The opportunity to guest host a local sports radio show presented itself. How could I turn that down? It's a semi-regular deal. I'm the "third host" of a show hosted by two brothers. They only need me when they both can't be there. So, I never get to interact on the air with either of them. This means when I'm on, the show takes on a completely different personality.
This used to be easy stuff for me. Sports was my life and my livelihood. These days, I am not forced by my profession to pay attention to sports which do not particularly interest me. This means on the odd occasion I have the opportunity to speak extemporaneously about sports on the radio for a couple of hours, my focus has changed.
I never was a "break down the game" kind of host. My presentation was more philosophical than clinical. Nowadays, it's news driven. This means I got really lucky. The Alex Rodriguez steroid revelation is still fresh. This means it's generating interest and conversation, two things which are vital to the success of sports talk radio. Happily, there was plenty of sports news to discuss, despite the absence of football.
Being back on the air was not like riding a bike. Being able to talk about sports for a couple of hours used to be second nature to me. This time, I had to study. I was happy to do it, though. This will help lunchtime conversations. I'd prefer to talk about sports anytime. I'm sick of politics, economic troubles and octuplets.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Radio Daze
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Reapplying for My Man Card
Having spent the previous weekend in the company of my two favorite women doing decidedly non-manly things, Super Bowl weekend presents itself as an opportunity to muscle my way back to the masculine coordinates on the gender axis.
Saturday was spent enjoying a local sports twin bill: college basketball in the afternoon and hockey at night.
Centenary College boasts an NCAA Division 1 athletic program, but hardly anyone notices. It is the smallest school in the NCAA's most prominent level of competition, which could be a badge of honor for the school and the community. It has sent two players, Robert Parish and Larry Robinson, to the NBA. Both earned league championship rings. Parish has five of them , in fact. Now, the city has essentially forgotten about the Gents although there was a nice crowd on hand for this game against Oral Roberts University.
If Centenary's team could find a way to win consistently, it could capture the area's imagination. We really have something special here. People just need a reason to drive into the heart of the city and experience it.
Conversely, the minor league hockey team seems to be thriving. For more than a decade, the Mudbugs have attracted impressive crowds. On an ordinary Saturday night in January, traffic leading into the arena was so significant that police shut down nearby traffic lights to manage the flow themselves. It seemed like a special event, and I suppose an argument can be made that it was.
The team wins consistently and seems to always be in contention for its league championship. It gives people something to cheer about which is always a good thing. This was the first game I've attended this season. It was a pleasant way to spend an evening.
It did get me into a little pinch with my bride. There was a show downtown at the same time featuring Broadway stars singing memorable numbers from the Great White Way. She really wanted to go to that. We had dropped a chunk of change on the lodge and the spa the weekend before. The hockey game cost significantly less than the theater. Faced with the prospect of paying bills this weekend, that got her attention. Broadway can wait. Manhood sufficiently reasserted, I can strap in now for the last football game of the season.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Life's Little Twists
I spent a quarter century going as fast as I could back and forth from the Thomas Assembly Center in Ruston covering Louisiana Tech basketball. The women's team was nationally prominent and the men's team featured the likes of future NBA standouts Karl Malone, P.J. Brown and Paul Millsap. Ruston is 70 miles east of Shreveport, so to get highlights on the 10pm news, one typically drives a couple of hours to see about fifteen minutes of actual college basketball.
In my narrow view, this was often underappreciated by certain folks on campus, but I enjoyed doing it nonetheless. I've always thought it was vital to the legitimacy of local sports media as well as the athletic program at Tech for those games to be covered on a regular basis.
All of that philosophical blather is moot now since I no longer have a stake in the local media game, but I still feel strongly about it. I remember getting into a huge war of words with a news director and a general manager who were looking for ways to trim expenses. I was told in an unmistakably condescending tone, "You're going to have to cut out your little trips to Ruston." I stood my ground and continued to cover La. Tech's sports quite consistently. I wound up doing it myself, rather than assigning someone. This meant leaving after the 6:00pm news, driving an hour for a game that starts at 7:00pm, getting the end of the first half and turning right around to drive back. I had a major conflict with a campus cop one time when I arrived at a game with two minutes left in the first half and he didn't want me to park and run in. The idea that I would be leaving at halftime meant nothing to him. I have to admit my feelings were profoundly hurt that evening.
Against that backdrop, we frame this photo:
This has nothing whatsoever to do with me personally. I was representing an organization at the game. But, there I was at center court with Karl Malone looking on from the front row. Tech presented the organization with a basketball autographed by the team. The crowd applauded politely, as the warm folks of Ruston are inclined to do. I enjoyed a self-indulgent moment, thinking of things like forgiveness.
I realized again how much fun it can be to take in a game at your own pace, without a deadline hammering you. I might go back and sit in the stands one night. Isn't that what most people do?
Monday, January 26, 2009
Leftovers From the Road
Somehow, I became confused and disoriented in Prescott, Arkansas. On the way home from a weekend in the minor mountains, we stopped at a travel plaza to fill up the car and grab some lunch. It was one of those places with three or four fast food franchises under one roof. The sandwich artist at the Subway counter was in full-blown ADD mode, keeping two or three conversations going at once. His boss had told him he had to step up his game, we were informed. His boss might have served customers better by asking the guy to bathe more often, but that's another story.
Already dizzied by the tempest behind the counter and his inability to focus exclusively on assembling my double-stack BMT, I went to fill my drink cup. That proved to be a challenge because the drink dispenser had not been filled with ice. So much for stepping up his game, right? A disheartened trickle of Five Dollar Footlongers wandered through the intellectual desert until we found ice over by Sonic.
Somewhere between eating my Doritos and buying a box of Whoppers for the rest of the trip, my wife and daughter disappeared into a vortex that from the outside appeared to be a ladies' room. It might as well have been the Bermuda Triangle because they were gone for an alarmingly long time. They were gone so long, in fact, that I forlornly loped to the vehicle, Whoppers in hand, figuring they would show up eventually. I made it to the driver's side door when I heard a familiar female voice beckoning, siren-like, from under an awning. Dancing on the wind came a request: "Can you come pick us up?" It's a long way from the Prescott Void to the parking lot, apparently.
I spotted them briefly, dreamlike faces in the distance, flushed in the cold and yearning for curbside service. Yet, like the apparitions they seemed determined to emulate, they simply vanished as I made my way across the vast paved wasteland. I pulled to the curb and they were nowhere to be seen. Frustrated and bewildered, I simply found my way into another parking spot and waited. Moments later they appeared, complaining of the cold but finally corporal again. They slipped into the car as if nothing unusual had occurred and we were on our way, the vagaries of Prescott becoming but a memory in the rearview mirror.
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I had a massage while I was in the Resort with the ladies. My therapist was named Bea and she was perfectly nice. About midway through the process she asked "You don't relax very often, do you?" Maybe not. I guess I need more massages. It was maybe my third. I'm not really sure what usually happens, but I feel like I need to send Bea flowers or something.
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We had a hot tub on the deck outside our condo. The air temperature was freezing cold and the hot tub was well, hot. So, the combination was soothing. Every time I get into a hot tub I think of buying one. Then, I wonder how many times a year I would actually use it and talk myself right out of it.
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For the trip, I randomly selected the book "In an Instant" by Lee and Bob Woodruff. It's about the ABC World News Tonight co-anchor who was gravely injured by an improvised explosive device (IED) while covering a story in Iraq. It hit me as I sat there that I was reading the book on the 3rd anniversary of the incident. I'm glad he's okay.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
A Chill in the Air
(While Joe College and the Mighty Guard Dog keep the homefront secure, the ladies and I are on the road again.) 
(Mt. Ida, AR)- My wife got a surprise sprung on her for her birthday. We brought her to a lodge on the shore of Lake Ouachita in in appropriately named Ouachita Mountains. We caught some kind of break with the weather. What kind of break, I'm not sure. A cold front moseyed through overnight and there's a persistent breeze here at the higher elevations. The detriment: it's cold! But, hey, it's January. What should we expect? The benefit? The lake is whitecapping, which means waves are lapping up onto the shore. So, we have sunshine, cool breezes and the soothing sound of moving water. That's a pretty nice combination.
The was set up to be a no-stress "chill" weekend and it's working out so far. The loft which we are renting is exactly what we expected. Our easily-entertained 17-year old is recovering from a weeklong sickness that has rendered her academically and socially useless. A change of scenery and a chance to sit around in serenity should really work to her benefit.
We have gone on long walks along the lakeshore, finished books and started new ones. There was a a nice, long hot tub session on the deck last night.We actually skipped stones for a while in the evening. Later today, the real reason we brought the birthday girl here: spa day! She has a massage, facial and pedicure lined up. The goal is to relax her. If this doesn't do it, nothing will.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
The D's: Big and Daddy
(Dallas) - It's kind of goofy. It's a little bit funny. It's a tradition now. It had to happen. The mascot photo. I've simply become shameless with this thing, even though essentially it amuses only me. You have to take life's little pleasures where you can get them.
The day trip to Dallas certainly was one of them. I saw my first NHL game and had a prime spot for the Mavericks' game against the Utah Jazz.
Both contests were closely contested and the home team won each time, so what more can you ask?
The Mavericks game was much more lively than the Stars'. That's no doubt because there were significantly more people there. Plus, my new buddy Mark Cuban places a premium on his Mavericks games being a total entertainment event. Like him or not, he puts on a show.
I kid around about Cuban because we passed in the hall and spoke briefly, but we actually do have a mutual friend. I thought about pausing for a moment to make the connection with him. But, all kidding aside, it was game day and that seemed inappropriate. Since it's unlikely we will ever be in a social setting together, I guess the hello in the hall with a affable nod will suffice.
I thank him for making NBA games interesting. This was my first Mavs' game since they moved from Reunion Arena, so that says something about how high they are on my list of sports priorities. Still, I'm glad I went and I appreciate my friend Roy for asking me along.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
A Big D Afternoon
(Dallas) - The frigid weather of the past week is a memory now and this January afternoon in north Texas was spectacular. With several hours to pass between our hockey-basketball double dip, my buddy Roy and I decided to walk through Dallas' trendy West End.
Did I say walk? Yes! we had a fantastic parking space at the arena, so why give it up?
If you're in this part of Dallas with some time to spend, there are a couple of things you can do: visit a restaurant or a club, or go see where JFK was shot. Well, we did both.
At Roy's insistence, I had a photo taken at the legendary grassy knoll and it felt perfectly silly. 
I was surprised at the number of people who were there, though. Most had cameras or video cameras. Forty-five years after the fact, the Kennedy assassination endures as one of the most compelling periods in American history.
So, the grassy knoll it is.
We are here for basketball, though. We walked right past the Dallas Mavericks' larger-than-life owner, Mark Cuban. That was a celebrity sighting for me. He's a rich guy and a famous guy. So, I'm pretty sure he qualifies as a celebrity.
I did not ask to pose with him for a photo. He's an owner, after all...not a mascot.
Ice in the Afternoon
(Dallas)- Certainly, I've been blessed over the years to witness high-level sporting events. However, until today I had not been to a National Hockey League game. When presented with an opportunity to attend an NHL-NBA doubleheader, how could I refuse? So, off we go to American Airlines Arena to watch the Dallas Stars. The Stars and their opponents, the Los Angeles Kings, are among the lowest-scoring teams in the league. Hockey purists, if there are any in Texas, will surely enjoy great goaltending and tenacious defense.
If that makes them happy, at least they got their money's worth.
Having seen my share of minor league hockey, I know a little about the game but I'm no expert. If every player at this level is more athletic, quicker, faster and a better skater than what we minor league afficiandos are accustomed to, then so be it. I take it on faith, because all things being relative it apepars to me to be the same game.
Who am I to say? I'm just grateful for the chance to see it. Tonight, arena workers will plop a court on top of the ice and many of us will reconvene. Sounds like fun. 
Friday, January 16, 2009
Happy Reunion
The dog and cat who live in our house can rest easy. The visitor cat has been reunited with its own family. We found out that "lost cat" signs were planned for the weekend, but it was modern communication that brought about a happy result. Better late than never, I suppose, the cat's owner sent out an e-mail blast to the neighborhood association describing the wayward kitty. Thanks to Smartphone technology, the e-mail hit my pocket and the cat was back home within an hour. I wonder what the lady was waiting for.
There was some concern that the little guy, named "Pepper" we discovered, had in fact been eaten by coyotes. Happily, he was not. The good news, for those near us who were not-so-secretly hoping he was a stray, is that he lives just a few doors down. So, he is easily visited.
One less bell to answer. One less vet bill to pay. Everybody's happy.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Interloper
The look you see on our dog's face means "what is that furry thing that my family has brought into the house?" The answer is a stray cat, which I am forbidden to show you for reasons which are diabolically logical.
A few nights ago, I was in the back yard doing grill duty when there was a commotion in the shrubbery. I was thinking "bunny," but much to my surprise a kitten came slinking onto the patio. The little guy was skinny, starving and thirsty. I know this because I put some dog food out and it pounced. I gave it some water and it plunged face-first into the bowl. I watched it for a while thinking it would go home. It did not.
After a while, the little cat drew something of a crowd. Watching it eat became a spectator sport. It walked around and greeted everyone, so I became convinced that it is someone's cat and it has just wandered away from home. I was sure it would leave the same way it came and we would be done with it. That has not happened.
It has been abnormally cold this week, and the other people in my house would not sit idly by and watch the cat stay outside in the freezing nighttime, even though it has obviously made it this far in life without us. So, they brought it inside. I have been saying several times a day, "Somewhere there's a little girl named Emily or something who is crying herself to sleep because her kitty is gone. She thinks it has frozen to death or has been eaten by a coyote. Put it out and let it go home."
Their position is they are keeping the cat safe and warm, and if it lives nearby then Emily will put up "lost cat" signs. I say "Emily is too little to make her own signs." The counter is, of course, that Emily's parents will make signs. So far, no signs. So, I say, "Let's make 'found cat' signs." They say no, that the people at LSU Health Sciences Center will see the signs, claim the cat is theirs and take it back to LSUHSC to do live experimentation. I am not making this up.
They have not been allowed to give this cat a name. After all, Emily is out there somewhere. I've been semi-twittering about this by mentioning the cat in my Facebook status, and today I got a friend request from someone down the street whose neighbor is missing a cat. Did the internet relieve Emily's emotional pain? No. The description of the cat offered by my newest Facebook friend isn't even close.
This is why I am not allowed to show you the cat. As the thinking goes, anyone who reads the blog could claim the cat by describing it from a photo posted here. This tells you everything you need to know about the intentions of the other people in this house. The little thing is skinny and it didn't have a collar. It has been said more than once that cats adopt families, so maybe we've been chosen.
If Emily doesn't surface soon, I have another mouth to feed, another vet bill to pay and more pet hair. The population of this house is supposed to be getting smaller as the kids get older. Instead, it seems to be going in the opposite direction.
The other people here are sick of my Emily speech, so now I just drop a random sigh and say, "poor Emily." My declarations are now falling on deaf ears.
Emily, wherever you are, break out the magic markers.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Shiver Me Timbers!
The fine folks at Fair Grounds Field are doing what they can to resurrect significant interst in minor league baseball in Shreveport. They're bringing back the name "Captains," which is cause for celebration. For a couple of seasons, the team was known as the Swamp Dragons. That flew like a frozen turkey. When that franchise moved away, another one came to town and went way back in history to grab the name "Sports," which did very little except confuse people.
So now, with an updated logo and a mascot that looks more like a pirate than a riverboat captain, here we go again. 
You can take that a couple of ways. The whole Pirate thing was done in the 1990's when the Candian Football League had a team (The Pirates) in Shreveport for two seasons. It was great fun and nobody disliked the logo, so maybe this new incarnation of baseball branding homogenizes the two.
Personally, I'm rooting for this to make a difference. Some of the happiest days of my life have been spent inside that ballpark, especially when the old Captains were prominent. In fact, in 1987, we took our wedding guests to a game so we could relax and enjoy one another's company.
A lot of people are saying "it's about time" on this move. The club's ownership had an "aha!" moment in 2008 when they did a "turn back the clock night," featuring throwback uniforms. They threw back to the Captains and it was their best-attended game of the season.
Oh, and for the record: they're hoping to tie in both communities by expanding the name to "Shreveport-Bossier Captains." Both mayors spoke at the announcement. Hey, it can't hurt.
It seems that people really don't care about the quality of baseball. Winning makes a difference in attendance for the other minor pro franchises in town. It's just more fun if you win Arena Football or hockey games, but baseball is a different kind of experience. Maybe just feeling good about the team's image will help.
Let's hope so.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Awkardness and Frustration
I have an elderly father, which has come to mean frequent trips with him to doctors' offices. I don't mind that part so much. It comes with the territory. Having spent an extraordinary amout of time in physicians' waiting areas recently, I have become acutely aware of a circumstance that I just can't reconcile.
People talk about their problems in these settings, strangers and eavesdroppers be damned. Throw in an old guy who just can't hear and it becomes almost ubearable for me.
On our most recent trip to the doctor, I met my father in the common area some time after he had arrived for his appointment. I asked him how long he had been waiting. He said almost an hour. I asked him, "Do you know if the doctor is even here?"
He didn't understand me. Four times, I repeated the question. There were people all around us. He still didn't hear me, although everyone else did. Heck, people in the room across the hall heard me. Not fifteen seconds after the fourth attempt to get a simple yes or no answer, an office nurse came out to assure me the doctor was indeed in the building. Innocent small talk had become something of a scene, and I was just plain embarrassed.
I suppose I shouldn't be. Sitting around there, I learned about some lady's sciatica, another one's apnea and a man's Parkinson's. I don't want to know their business, and they were not speaking to me. But they were speaking to people with them and that's a pretty wide open space. As we learned, sound carries. Even more than I don't want to know their business, I don't want them to know ours. But, like the rest of them, Dear Ol' Dad has no hesitancy whatsoever about discussing his health or just about anything else in a room full of strangers. I just don't get it.
Why can't we just sit there and read or watch the TV they provide and wait our turn? I don't mind making small talk, providing you can make it within the framework of common manners and not be forced by circumstance to shove it down other people's throats. Doctors' waiting rooms have become the most awkward psuedo-semisocial settings in my life.
There should be rules:
1. If you're going to have some kind of public conversation in this space, confine it to something of widepsread interest like the weather or LSU football.
2. Don't presume you know something about my particular health issue. You didn't go to medical school.
3. If you must speak in the common area about your personal issues, keep your voice down so that only people in a one-person arc with its midpoint being your face can hear you.
4. You are under stress. We are under stress. Otherwise we wouldn't be at the doctor. This is all the more reason for you to keep it light.
Okay, I know this sounds harsh. I'm venting and confessing here. Believe it or not, in that context I just want to kind of walk in, not call attention to myself, get my personal business done and get out of there. I wish everybody else was the same way. If we want to talk about our problems, we can go grab a cup of coffee or something after the appointment. Is that too much to ask?
Friday, January 02, 2009
Leftovers from The Road
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We spent about twenty hours on highways in five states this week. Road kill was abundant. I saw a fox and a small bear on the side of the road in addition to the usual deer, armadillos and raccoons.
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I've concluded that Burger King has surrendered its standards. I've stopped in Burger King restaurants in three states over the last month. All of them were alarmingly dirty and the quality of the food and service has dropped precipitously. Given the starting point, that's saying something. Burger King, which I once really enjoyed, is dangerously close to becoming a last resort for me.
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A moment from the Vanderbilt tour which confused me: a parent asked the tour guide about intercollegiate sports. The guide patiently explained that Vanderbilt has 16 sports and competes in the Southeastern Conference. If you don't care about sports, that's one thing; but if you are interested enough to ask about it, how can you not know that Vanderbilt is in the SEC?
Besides, earlier the presenter has asked for a show of hands from people who planned to go to the bowl game. How did the guy miss all that?
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At breakfast the day of the game, some people in line were talking about the number of people wearing Vanderbilt gear. We were staying in the official alumni hotel. One lady asked where the game was being played. Another said, "I guess at Dudley Field..." which is Vandy's on-campus stadium. This was incorrect, because the game was in fact being played at the NFL stadium in town. Again, how can you not know that? I actually didn't say anything to them. I wonder what that lady thought when she showed up to an empty stadium that afternoon.
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On the way home, we saw Kentucky and East Carolina fans driving into Memphis for the Liberty Bowl. Cars were decorated and flags were flying. College football is just a lot of fun.
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Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Wow! What a Day!
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(Nashville, TN) - Vanderbilt won its bowl game, 16-14 over nationally-ranked Boston College. It was the Commodores' first bowl game since 1982 and their first bowl victory since 1955! It was the school's second bowl win ever. My wife, a long-suffering Vanderbilt graduate, saw every moment of it and was thrilled. My daughter and I were pleased to be in her company. We had to earn it, though. It was COLD!.JPG)
During the second quarter, temperatures were in the 30's with a stiff wind..JPG)
I started to shiver and my daughter said her toes were numb. We thought we were prepared, wearing many layers of warm clothes; but were a little uncomfortable to put it mildly. It was the coldest I had been for any sustained period in at least fifteen years, probably more.
That's okay, though. The conditions made the experience more memorable. The truth be told, if it had become unbearable, we would have been okay..JPG)
We had club level tickets, so we had the option to go inside and watch the game on television at any time. Why would you want to do that, though? It wasn't a particularly well played game, but it did go down to the final seconds. Vanderbilt intercepted a BC pass with less than two minutes left in the game to seal the victory. At that moment, the temperature didn't really matter..JPG)
It really meant a lot to my wife, who stayed long after the final horn to watch the trophy presentation, see a fireworks show and to find out who the Most Valuable Player was. Her phone starting buzzing immediately with text messages and calls from friends and co-workers who knew we had made this trip..JPG)
It's been a blast, to be honest. Given Vanderbilt's pace for winning bowl games, it may truly be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Let's hope not, but either way I'm glad we were here to share it.
Low-Key Little Trip
(Nashville, TN)- This bowl game experience has been very nice so far. It's interesting to attend a "minor" bowl game as an outsider, since I've been so close to the one at home for such a long time. As a bowl visitor, it would be easy to note the absence of any kind of "buzz" around the game, but that's not something to complain about.
There was a significant gathering of fans on Nashville's famed 2nd Avenue for an outdoor concert and a "battle of the bands."
You would think in Music City, USA you wold get frontline entertainment. Diana Degarmo sang the national anthem and hosted the event.
The featured entertainers were the Carter Twins, who are poised to release their first CD. Front line? Depends upon your perspective, I guess.
It was harmlessly entertaining. There was nothing wrong with it and there was very little intensity. This is how I imagaine many visitors to the Independence Bowl must feel.
On a personal level, the highlight of the trip has been catching up with old friends. My old Friend Tommy drove in from just across the Kentucky state line to join us for dinner. 
My friend Dave, a Nashville sportscaster, joined us in the Big Suite late last night to catch up.
It's been exeedingly pleasant so far and that's all you can really expect. 
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Confusing Hotel Matters
Over the last few years, I seem to have developed a loyalty to Hilton Hotel properties. I keep coming back, so I must be happy. I know exactly what I can count on at a Hampton Inn, for instance.
There are two things which confuse me, but they're not important enough for me to ask about them. I think I would get blank stares from the help if I did.
Number one: at Hamptons and other "lesser" properties, internet access is free. But, at the hotel like the one we're enjoying in Nashville and other "higher end" facilities in the chain in which I've stayed recently, internet access is ten bucks a day. That makes no sense to me.
Here's the one that gets me, though. I've recently stayed in "nice" Hilton properties in places like Austin, Lexington, Birmingham and Nashville. They've put these state of the art, flat-screen televisions in the rooms..JPG)
They're BIG TV's, and they're High Defintion capable, obviously. But, in the rooms, standard definition. What's the point?
That's all.
Memory Lane and Maybe A Glimpse Into the Future
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(Nashville, TN) - Our daughter, a junior in high school, made her first official university visit today when she sat through an information session and took a long guided tour of Vanderbilt. This is exciting and scary for a lot of reasons. She really liked the place, but it's expensive! Also, she has to get in if she wants to attend. She probably will have the academic credentials, but the place is intensely competitive.
Her mother graduated from Vandy, which is why we find ourselves here for the football team's first bowl game since 1982. I wonder if having a parent as an alumna will work in the favor of an applicant? It can't hurt, can it? .JPG)
There was a nice moment for my wife. We walked through the some of the buildings where she had classes and found a composite photo of her graduating class. She was front and center as class president! It was neat for her daughter to see that. It was also nice for me, because that's the year I met her. I told my daughter, "Look, that's the girl I met." Very sentimental..JPG)
There was a beautiful reunion with my wife's college best friend. I told our daughter this would be noteworthy because no one makes her mother laugh as hard as Dana does. The occasion did not disappoint. The hilarity started on the phone and less than five minutes into lunch, my wife had tears shooting cartoon-like out of her eyes. It was immesnsely entertaining for near observers, who can only imagine what life must have been like when thosse two were together on a daily basis..JPG)
Soon, we will turn our attention to the business of football. I hope the Commodores cap off an already memorable trip with a nice victory. It doesn't seem likely, but a Vandy fan can dream. My wife and her schoolmates have been waiting more than a quarter-century for this. Win or lose, it's been worth it.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Quick Hitter From the Road
(Nashville, TN)-My wife is true blue, no doubt about it. She has long vowed that the next time her school's football team won its way into a bowl game, she would be there to witness it. After all, The Vanderbilt Commodores haven't been to a postseason game since 1982, which was before we even met (and we've been married a long time). As luck would have it, Vandy finally makes it and fate leads them across town instead of across the country. They're in the Music City Bowl, so we are in Nashville.
It works out well. Her College Best Friend lives here, so she's excited about seeing her. I have a good friend who works at a TV station here, so we will spend some time with him. Another old friend lives about an hour away. So, like the song says, "Through the years, we all will be together if the fates allow." So, fate creates a set of happy reunions. Plus, our daughter can look over the campus while she's here to see if she wants to consider following in Mom's footsteps.
It's a long drive and we spent the day in the car. It's an easy drive, though. Once again, I connot recommend books on CD enough. The time just flies by if you pick a good one.
It's colder here than I would like, and I'm not sure how to dress for cold weather. I'll figure it out. Now, it's late and we are road weary. More to come.
32 of 33's not Bad
I went to my first Independence Bowl in 1976, when I worked as an usher as part of my school's commitment to community service.
I've been to every one, except the 1984 game. I had traveled to Charleston, SC to cover a Louisiana Tech football game that day. So, there's a nice little bow to tie things up, wouldn't you say? In 1984, I did drive past the stadium during the 3rd quarter on my way home from the airport. So, I can say I have personally witnessed at least part of every Independence Bowl.
It's much more fun to be a spectator than to cover it, although this year might have been a little different because a local team was in it. There seems to be more pressure when big-name schools from power conferences come to town.
It was a rather unremarkable day, although the people around us were consistently entertaining.
I plan to see number 34 next year.
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Monday, December 22, 2008
Best Dog Ever
In my life, I have buried six dogs which lived long, happy lives. I loved them all and each had a distinct personality. None of them compares to our golden retriever.
This is the smartest, sweetest, most expressive and affectionate dog I've ever known. She is remarkable. Her only flaw is an annoying tendency to shed, but she just can't help it. Other than that, she is essentially flawless. She will be six years old later this week, just about middle age for a dog.
We have been advocates of what I call "doggie overlap." This means you get a puppy or young dog long before your current dog runs out of days. It serves many purposes, but mostly it's to soften the blow when that sad, sad day comes.
We agreed long ago to get a second dog when this one was six years old. Now that the day is upon us, I'm not so sure. Our relationship wtih this great llittle friend is so good, I don't want to do anything to alter it. Plus, if she lives a long doggie life, we will be well into our fifties and the children will be well into their twenties before we don't have her anymore. By then, we may have grandchildren. We also may not want the responsibilty of another mouth to feed and another life for which we will be responsible 24 hours a day.
I just don't think we can do any better. I think we just go out on top (hopefully a long time from now) and then take some time to reassess.
I hope every dog lover is fortunate enough, at least once, to have a pet like ours.
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Wednesday, December 17, 2008
The Truth Hurts
My daughter turned seventeen this week, and I'm having trouble dealing with that. Seventeen (17!) is just different from sixteen. Think about it. How are movies rated? The worst film these days is rated "NC-17," which means no one under 17 is allowed in. Reverse that logic. The people who rate movies think it's okay for a 17-year-old to see serious pornography and/ or violence. That's where my baby is right now.
She said, reflecting on reaching seventeen, "This means if I get a ticket I don't have to go to traffic court." I guess not. Daddy just pays the fine.
Did I say "Daddy?" Forget about it. I've been "Dad" for a long time now, unless she wants something. Then, conveniently, I'm "Daddy" again, but only for a moment.
Janis Ian sang that at seventeen, she learned the truth. I'm not sure my daughter knows the truth yet, but if you ask her she will tell you she does.
I'm proud to have known her for seventeen years. That's the truth, for sure.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Surrender Your Manhood at the Door
The show had its moments. Production value was high. It was colorful and lively. I could not identify a single masculine moment.
I feel compelled to explain how I wound up there. A lady we know, the mother of one of our daughter's friends, bought a row of floor seats for the show and invited the crew of girls to go. They all showed up last night, but their tickets wouldn't scan. It seems the tickets were for Tuesday, not Monday. Oops. Sadly, several of the girls had plans for the next night and couldn't attend.
Seeing the unused (and expensive) tickets sitting on the counter was too much for me to bear. The waste was just eating away at me. A futile attempt to sell them was made, so there they sat. What else did I have to do on a December Tuesday? Off to the show we went.
It was old fashioned, you might say "tradtional" and not very stirring. Still, it was wholesome and basically harmless. There was actual livestock in the show: a camel, a donkey and some sheep. I guess the only shot I had at being manly would have been to pull out a shotgun and go hunting. But, really, would that have helped anyone?
Maybe it will spark my Christmas spirit. If you see me high-kicking at the mall, you know things have gone too far.
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Monday, December 15, 2008
Still a Thrill
When you hear a coach say, "I had the worst seat in the house," he has a point. One can actually see each play develop much more clearly from an elevated vantage point. Still, nothing gives you a sense of the size of the players or the speed of the game like standing right there with 'em.
All that being said, the event seems much bigger when viewed on television, especially in HD.
The Cowboys found a way to win in prime time and the assembled crowd raised quite a ruckus. I don't know if I'll ever get back to the sidelines, but I'm glad I made my way to the floor of Texas Stadium one more time before the Cowboys move out.
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Saturday, December 13, 2008
The Mouth of the South
If you've watched basketball in person or on TV, you know it's hard to miss the PA guy a lot of the time. There are similarities to ring announcers in boxing. You have to really sell it hard when the home team makes a big basket.
You also have to pay attention and know the rules. If the PA guy blows a call, he can impact the game. In my game, for instance, a foul was called on number 30. None of us on press row saw the referee make the hand size for the "zero," so we thought the foul was on number 3. It would have been his fourth foul, which means trouble. It was 30's first foul. When I said, "the foul is on number three, so-and-so, his fourth personal...." the game came to a halt. Coaches, players and refs all stared at me.
"Correction. The foul is on number thirty..." and everybody felt better.
It's not as easy as it looks, plus now I'm hoarse. But it was fun and I had the best seat in the house. Next time, we'll watch those hand signals from the guys in stripes a little more closely.
And for all those teachers who gave "B's" in conduct because I couldn't keep my yap shut: The foul's on you.
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Through The Years, We all Will be Together
He had a voucher for a flight, so why not come back to Shreveport where he made many friends?
We rectified an obvious oversight. He claimed (and this is an outrage) that all the years he lived here, he never went to Herby K's. So, he rounded up his crew and to Herby's we went.
Being on vacation, he was able to relax, enjoy the company and a big mug of beer.
It has been almost three years since I had seen him, and happily it will be a just three weeks until I see him again. We're going to Nashville for the Music City Bowl!
That trip works out well for everyone. The Daughter gets to look over a university or two and Joe College gets to live in the house without family encumberance for a few days. Who knows what he will do? That's a little scary. As long as there's no damage and the place is cleaned up when we get back, we'll be okay.
By the way, We saw Dave two days in a row. On the second day, he was wearing a very familiar sweater.
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Sad Times In Shreveport
Sadly, the last man standing, Bob Griffin, was shown the door by KSLA this week. He had been there for 48 years. His goal was to make it to 50, and he had gone part time a few years ago in an effort to get there. The fact that he wasn't allowed to leave on his own terms is a shame.
The bowl game has also fallen on hard times. Its sponsor squirreled out with almost two million dollars in debt hanging over the organizers. The football gods conspired to deny the game teams from major conferences, to boot. So, instead of SEC vs. Big XII, it's MAC vs. WAC.
Maybe things will improve and a year from now the stadium will be full once more and everyone will be ready to smile again.
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Gone But Not Forgotten
That may say something about salaries in local television, or it may say something about temperate southern climates. Who knows?
Cool weather gear notwithstanding, there is something more noteworthy: All of these people worked at a local TV station in 2001. None of them works there now. Moreover, Daddy D is the only one still in town.
There was talent assembled there. They have all moved to bigger cities, and I hope they have found happiness.
Back row (l to r): Providence, Memphis, Nashville, Shreveport (me).
Front row (l to r): Nashville, Denver, Denver (different stations, a happy coincidence).
Maybe their wardrobes have improved. As for me, I wore that sweater this week!
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Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Reluctant Unclehood
There's a new member of the family named Grant. I'll spare the details because I don't really have permission to go all up in somebody else's privacy, but let me make one thing clear: We are not yet grandparents. The fact that we have the potential to be so in less than a year hangs over our heads at all times, but I can honestly say we're have not been emotionally prepared for the arrival of a newborn. Yet, here he is, a nephew. The guy has a 16-year-old sister. It saddens me at this moment that her name is not "Denise," because I have no legitimate reason to call the new kid "DeNephew," a joke which always cracks me up even though it's stupid and ancient.
Let me make another thing clear: nobody around here is pregnant, as far as I know. I'm just saying that things can happen quickly. I'm looking forward to being a grandfather, I just don't want it to happen anytime in the next five years or so.
For now, Grant's arrival is the most momentous thing to happen in the family in a while. Let's hope things settle down around here now. I've spoken to his mother only briefly since she came home with the baby, because I assume she's losing sleep. I will be interested, in a month or so, to depose "Denise" about how she's dealing with all of this.
For now, let's just say congratulations to the excited family. Welcome to the world, Grant.
