Sentimentality and Nostalgia

I may be younger than most nostalgia nuts but my nostalgia consists of the 1990’s. I miss this era of sports because it was when I discovered sports for the glory and wonderment that they were. Yes, I was dressed in Packer green and gold from a young age and knew who Paul Molitor was before I knew who Ronald Reagan was but my love for sports blossomed in the 1990’s.
My first love was baseball. The need for a connection to my father is one which every boy can relate to. My father’s life revolved around baseball because it was his career. I grew up in ballparks and club houses. The game was filled with fun mascots (thats my pops with the San Diego chicken) and good people. I however wouldn’t be a true fan of the game until the 1990’s. My mother and I were living in Denver and, as far as pro sports were considered, Denver was a veritable ghost town. Though Denver had the AAA Denver Zephyrs, I longed for a major league team to arrive so I could see the teams I only witnessed on WGN telecasts and in my extensive baseball card collection.

In 1993, The Colorado Rockies came to town as an expansion team and it is the first moment I can remember being excited about a local sports team. I paid close attention to the players that were being drafted and signed. I couldn’t wait to attend a game. I can still name the entire opening day lineup from that first team. Players that probably had no right being in “the show” were on that team. They were young, they wore plain black and white uniforms. Simple with no striping, piping or names on the backs of jerseys. They were a thing of beauty. Freddie Benavides played shortstop, Alex Cole with his bug eyed rec specs in centerfield and “EY” Eric Young at second. David Nied was our ace and David Neid would only ever be called “ace” on an expansion team. Not too mention our other characters like our manager Don Baylor (the most beaned player in history) and Don Zimmer (two words: Pay-Dro!).

The ballpark they played in was no ballpark at all. They would play their first few seasons in Mile High Stadium, home of the Denver Broncos. This is part of the reason that the Rockies set attendance records like crazy for those first few seasons. The allure of a professional baseball franchise and the wealth of seating of an NFL stadium made it possible. Those first few teams were absolutely terrible but I didn’t care. I remember falling asleep listening to night games being broadcast over the radio. I could see the sky above Mile high from outside my bedroom window and on the fireworks games, could take in the same fireworks that “my team” was enjoying (albeit from a distance). My mother, bless her heart, did the best she could on a limited income to allow me to experience the Rockies as much as possible.

She purchased a membership for me into the Rockies Rookies Club. The club wasn’t much. We received an occasional t-shirt, some reading material on the team and a few rights and privileges to meet some players. I don’t know if she remembers it but that club meant so much to me. I remember one sunny spring Saturday she woke me up and went to Mile High Stadium for an autograph signing on the field. I had two favorite players at that time. The first was Joe Girardi. Joe was a tough nut kind of guy. Was the stockiest guy on the field outside of “Fat Elvis” Dante Bichette and for some reason, spoke to me. My other player which I loved was Walt Weiss. Walt did everything for the Rox. He played second base, shortstop, some third base. Never heralded as a member of the Rockies but he was tough in his own sort of way (which he would demonstrate to the world later). I don’t know where Joe Girardi was that day but Walt Weiss was there signing autographs and surrounded by a mob of people. I couldn’t get near him and my mom, sensing that I would be crushed if I couldn’t get an autograph from him, snapped the baseball out of my hand and forced her way through the crowd. She returned a minute later with a fresh black signature on the ball. And people wonder why I have an affinity for tough players… need just look at the tough one I was raised by.

Later in the 90’s, Denver would host the All Star Game and my family attended it. Walt Weiss was with the Braves then and was experiencing the best season of his career and made it on the roster. His 3 year old son was stricken with, at the time, an unknown illness but Walt made it to the game nonetheless. Upon his being introduced, I along with everyone else stood and cheered for him because he was a truly great member of our franchise, because of everything he had gone through and because of one autograph.

I have never turned my back on the Rockies. These past few years have been the best in franchise history but I still remember and love those “lean years.” In a way, I have my mother to thank for my affinity for the team. And I have the team to thank for those memories with my mom.

Adventure Time! (make sure to enjoy the links)

It has been entirely too long since I posted anything so here it goes. I am a football coach which means that you would assume that football is my favorite sport as a fan. This would be a fallacy. Most coaches love the game but due to time restraints, can’t follow the game the way a fan would. For this reason, and the general feeling by coaches that fans are fairly moronic, means that football is relegated to the middle of my favorite sports. My favorite sport to be a fan of is not what you might think. I love NASCAR. It has all of the appeal that I require. It has fast speeds, teamwork, rivalry, strategy and even an occasional fistfight.

I was talking with my mother not too long ago when she not only suggested that I go to the race in Richmond, Virginia. In fact, she demanded it. I think it was a little bit of living vicariously through her son, as she is more of a fan than I am, and also her desire to know I have some semblance of a life away from work. Richmond is only about an hour away from Murfreesboro so the travel expenses were extremely minimal and tickets were only $45 so I really had no excuse whatsoever.

The mission was on to find someone, anyone who wanted to attend it with me. Don’t get me wrong, I am a loner by nature (only child syndrome) but a race is something to share and experience with others because it truly is a spectacle. After canvassing the campus, with lots of prodding and bribery, I finally convinced a coworker to attend the race with me. She had never been to a race despite growing up in NASCAR heaven her entire life. I saw this as a great opportunity to potentially expand the sports fan base even if it was just by a little bit.

The race was on Saturday night so we hitched up the wagons and headed out at noon on Saturday. If you are wondering why we left so early, you have never been to a race. We arrived and found parking behind a liquor store about a mile from the track and took in all the festivities. NASCAR races are like traveling carnivals. Tons of activities, booths, shops, shirtless fat men drinking beer and equally fat women also drinking beer. I threatened to take off my shirt but at the insistence of my guest, I refrained. I did however take in a few beers as we wandered around. After a couple of marines who clearly had nothing better to do than skip out of their volunteer trash duty and hit on my friend, we found our way to our seats (long story). I soon realized why our seats were priced lower than most. They were amazing and you could see the entire track but it was a smoking section. I am not bothered by a little cigarette smoke considering that I have lived around it since my earliest memories but our section was one big cloud of tobacco haze. I felt like I was at a damn Dave Matthews concert but the Sweet smell was replaced by ash.

The pre race festivities went on with everything that is standard. Driver introductions, invocation, national anthem, fly over, the greatest four words in motorsports “Gentlemen Start Your Engines!”. Like I said, NASCAR is an event.

The race was probably boring to the viewers at home but in person, there was always something to keep you enthralled. My guest cheered for Jeff Gordon, for no other reason than the number 24 was her old number for the Tar Heels (or as I like to call it, “The Other UNC”). I of course was decked out in black to show that I was a follower of my man “Rocketman” Ryan Newman. Gordon lead about 100 laps and Newman struggled through most of the race but finished with a top 10. Kyle Busch emerged with the victory which left everyone who follows NASCAR pissed. Kyle Busch is the ultimate villain. If you watched wrestling and cheered for the Undertaker instead of Hulk, or cheered for Miami instead of Notre Dame, Kyle Busch is your man. For that reason, people were pretty angry.

We ventured back to the car and said that the first place we find still serving food, we would stop. It turns out that due to traffic, we wouldn’t see anywhere to eat until around 1 am. Low and behold, Waffle House beckoned us. It was the perfect place to eat after a NASCAR event. No two institutions hold as much southern nostalgia as NASCAR and WoHo. After gorging ourselves a little too much, we found our way back to “the Boro” and I slept for the next day and a half. All in all, I am glad my mother demanded I go.

Dixieland Delight...

For those of you unaware as to where I have been, I figured an update was well overdue. I just moved to a quiet hamlet of Murfreesboro, North Carolina. It is peaceful here. The town is not much more than a main street and the campus. I am a football coach by trade and the nasty truth about the profession is that you are constantly moving early on in your career. I think I have found somewhere, however, that I could spend some time in and be perfectly comfortable. Though it is winter and the chill is not quite how I envisioned the American South, the grass and trees are still green. This is foreign for a guy who has lived his entire life in various frigid climates.

There is a sort of romanticism to the town. There has always been a level of romanticism to the American South as it is. Whether it is the easy-going way of it’s inhabitants, the rich history, or even Daisy Duke and the ‘General Lee’ the American South can be very captivating and alluring. I had experienced this element of southern living while visiting my parents in Arkansas but they live in a tourist and retirement community and, though it is a great place, lacks the authenticity of the area I am in now.

Murfreesboro’s demographics are something I was prepared for but did not truly comprehend. As a child, the only association I could make to the American South was it’s association with the abomination of slavery. Perhaps that is why "The Boro", with a population of exactly 50% White and 50% African Americans would seem to be difficult to grasp. Shouldn’t there be racial tension? Shouldn’t there be resentment on the part of the Black population towards the White population? Out of shear naivete, I asked these questions of a few trustworthy coworkers and they explained that the perceptions of the hostility were formed a hundred years ago and that Selma, Alabama does not speak for the rest of the South. I have been greeted with smiles, open doors, and even on a few occasions, a hug. Southern hospitality at it’s finest.

I have read the work of William Faulkner and see how he could cherish his home here in the South. I am 2 hours away from the mountains, an hour from the Atlantic Ocean, I have a driving range a mere 20 yards from the door to my office and somewhere, someone is shoveling snow. Will I be in the South for the rest of my life? I doubt it, but if that were the case, I wouldn’t complain.

Tiger Woods Made a Mistake!

I have followed the Tiger Woods saga with baited breathe and cannot get enough of the juicy details. Part of this is my desire to see the infallible, perfect, God of Golf get his empire crumbled to nothing. The other reason why I am following the story is because I am a red-blooded, American male who feels like Tiger Woods is an idiot. I am going to say what every husband, boyfriend and coworker is too afraid to say about the Tiger Woods scandal... Tiger made a mistake... He got married.

Tiger Woods is pulling in $100 million a year. He owns nearly a dozen homes and a yacht. That’s right, a yacht. Tiger Woods is recession proof! He is at the top of his game and his popularity is untouchable. He is marketing gold. He spouts profanity like an 18^th Century sailor in front of millions of people every Sunday when he catches one a little too fat or has a slice into a bunker and is still the most beloved athlete in America. Why then, would Tiger ruin all of this by getting married?

He has dozens of 18 year old bikini models and heiresses waiting for him at every clubhouse. If he is going to have sex with these girls, which obviously he did anyway, why would he get married? If Tiger were to have sex with all of these women and never have gotten married, the Mickey Mantle Syndrome would have set in. The media would love him. He would have been the best player and the Playboy of the PGA. He would be held to a standard that could never be matched by another man. Men would want to be Tiger even more than they already did before the scandal hit. Women would want to be near him because of his money, power, and influence.

Some people may be offended by my view on the scandal but there is truth in these statements. My next point of why he made a mistake on getting married is this: He would not have to fear the countless women running to the tabloids. Ok, so some of them kept the secret for a while but he had to figure that it would come out eventually. If he were a bachelor, he would not have had to pay off all of these women to attempt to keep them quiet. If he were a bachelor, the National Enquirer would have posted it on page 6 instead of page 1. If he were a bachelor, he would have even more sponsors than he already has. Every advertisement in Maxim Magazine would be of Tiger, in a duster surrounded by countless models and hocking any number of products. The Axe company comes to mind.

Why then did Tiger marry this Swedish nanny? I think he fell into a common trap that so many young men fall into. He is successful in his career, he has financial stability, and he feels as though the next step has to be marriage and kids. This is a real and prevalent problem because he was not ready. He had too much to lose from this and not enough sense to realize that he would be setting up the empire to crumble. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not against the institution of marriage. Someday, this crass cynic will walk down the aisle (probably several times). The issue that exists for Tiger, which I will never have an issue with, is that I will never have thousands of groupies and temptation anywhere. When this gargoyle finally gets married, it will be because I truly love the individual I am marrying and that I feel like I could never do any better. Tiger clearly felt he could do better, and did about a dozen times.

Nugg Life

To this point in the NBA playoffs, I have come across something that I couldn’t pass up writing about. The Denver Nuggets have had quite a run to this point and I think the season can best be described through song. I know, I know... This is kind of weird but I can describe the Nuggets to you through the songs of Tupac Shakur or as the kids call him "2Pac".

"Keep Ya Head Up" is over DJ Daryl’s rendition of Zapp & Roger’s "Be Alright". The message in the song is about staying ahead of the struggle. The Nuggets came into this season with a rather large chip on their shoulder having failed to get past the first round of the playoffs since Dikembe Mutumbo’s era. They came in with a very questionable lineup which was missing Marcus Camby and still held onto Allen Iverson. Nevertheless, The Nuggets soldiered on like the Tupac preached and held on, waiting for a change.

"My Block" is a jam that hears 2Pac say, "Cause all these little babies goin’ crazy and they suffering in the game." It wasn’t long before the trade was made and Chauncey Billups was able to come home and represent for his block. Out were the babies which 2Pac spoke of (Allen Iverson) and in was a point guard with the ability to disperse the ball to teammates.

"Trapped" by 2Pac describes the Nuggets in the Western Conference. With all but one team (the Lakers) being so tight and anybody who loses a couple of games going from 3rd in the conference all the way to 9th, the Nuggets knew there was nowhere to go. As 2Pac screams, "I’d rather die than be trapped in a living hell, they got me trapped!"

"Brenda’s Got a Baby" which was written about a young mother forced to raise a child on her own because the father ran away. I just used this as an example because I guarantee that someone on the Nuggets has done this at some point. JR Smith, I’m looking at you.

"Dear Mama" by 2Pac is an apologetic piece to his own mother for being so wild and out of control. On the other hand, Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban felt that since Nuggets forward Kenyon Martin hadn’t written the song, he would tell Kenyon’s Mother for him. He berated Mrs. Martin saying, "Your son is a thug!" No, uhh Mark... Her son is a Nug. Get it straight.

"Me Against The World" 2Pac sums up what everyone outside of the 303 believed about the Nuggets. No one gave them a chance. Sure, they were the #2 seed in the Western Conference but the Lakeshow won the season by almost 10 games. The world believed they could not and should not win. It was the Nuggets against the world.

"To Live and Die in L.A." fully encapsulates the Western Conference Finals to me. The Nuggets have shown they can live by beating the Lakers at the Staples Center but they have also shown they can play utterly sloppy and uninspired basketball while "California Dreamin’and hearing hoochies screamin’". Those aren’t my words. Those are 2Pac’s words.

Finally, I hope the series is summed up by brighter songs than "So Many Tears" or "Life Goes On" but rather by the song "Changes" which states that, "Some things will never change" but even 2Pac might agree that the Nuggets in the NBA Finals would be a pleasant change. Another song that might work would be "Picture Me Rollin’" which would be a good summary of what the Nuggets could do all the way to the Finals.
Who will prevail can be anyone’s guess but That is the final song in 2Pac’s repertoire, "Lord Knows".

Lastly, Since I am like every other white Nuggets fan... here is a picture of my favorite Balla...

Randomness

I woke today because I had to. While the rest of the world was able to sleep in, I had to go to work. In my profession, there is always something to do. I have spent the first few hours in a daze. I think my brain knows it’s a holiday and it has essentially asked my body to take the brunt of today’s labor. The other night, I went out to the local bar. My mother, of all people, encouraged me to go. I consumed a mere three beers simply because I didn’t have the cash. FYI bars in Iowa still haven’t discovered that credit cards are a form of money.
In the bar, I was glued to the TV. The Nuggets were playing a pivotal game 3 against the Los Angeles Lakers and I think I scared people away because of my incessant screaming at the lowly Nug-puppies. I have been a fan of the Nuggets as long as I can remember. This has been a difficult life for a Nugget fan. The last time they were this far into the playoffs, I was 6 months old. I still remember the upset of the (defunct) Seattle Supersonics in 7 games back in the early 90’s. Dikembe Mutumbo and Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf were names I couldn’t read but worshipped. Likewise, I remember attending 12 games in 1997. That year, the Nuggets became the worst team in NBA history. 9 wins and I saw none of them. The funny thing was, people went to the games to see the debacle of the Nuggets. They had plenty of pokes and puns at their expense that year. They may have been the No-guts but they were my No-guts.
Anywho, after the ensuing loss to LA, I wasn’t in a great mood and the bar is a bad place to be when in a bad mood. My coworkers were there and, as usual, hitting on every double-bagger in the place. That is fine... for them. I refuse to hit on girls in Iowa. An attractive female in Iowa has a false sense of confidence. They seem to think they are something amazing but if they go on vacation to places like Las Vegas or Miami, they would be referred to as the ugly friend. I am not going to hit on a girl who thinks she is the cat’s meow when she is just the best available option in Iowa.
I stayed for the rest of the night because I could tell I would have to be a DD for my coworkers. I don’t mind. It is better than the alternative. By alternative, I mean having to hear that we need to hire another new coach because our last one got a DUI. We make a quick stop by the Kum N Go. For those of you who are not familiar with what that is, it is a gas station, I kid you not. The other coaches, possibly inebriated, probably just desperate, proceed to hit on the thick girl working at the gas station. I mean, seriously, will I be reduced to that if I stay here to long? I pray not.
After dropping off the last of the coaches, I fell into bed and couldn’t sleep. Nothing that normally makes me tired was working. Hot shower, read a little, attempt to clear my head. I couldn’t. You hear about coaches who work for hours and hours and pull all-nighters working on god knows what. I understand why. I was thinking about everything that had to do with work. Not my menial day to day responsibilities but about next season, the season after that and 20 seasons from now. It was said that “Dreamers, typically, are not doers.” Well, I like to think that isn’t true. I am constantly getting ahead of myself, my plans, my goals. The problem is, it was these dreams that are effecting my sleep dreams. I finally fell asleep about 5 am. This seriously threw off my sleep pattern and could be another excuse as to why my brain has essentially called in sick.

Random thoughts. I haven’t done one of these in a while. I doubt anyone was losing any sleep over the fact that my random thoughts were not written and documented for the world to see in well over a year. There is no time like the present. It is said that a man has a sexual thought every 6 seconds. I thought I would let you delve into my thoughts that had nothing to do with sexuality at all. These are all thoughts I have had run through my head recently and I have taken the time out of my day to jot them down for being either quirky, inane or insane. Here we go...

-The last time Swine flu came to America, the vaccine killed more people than the virus did. Seriously. It was a wonderful and marvelous time when Gerald Ford was in the White House, bell-bottom pants were still in style and the world had not a care in the world... except the emerging economic crisis and the incredible lack of nationalism found in a failed war and a crooked presidency. At least everyone was still clinging to Disco right?

-How come there are so few bands named after geographical locations anymore? Did we tap the market in the 70's and 80's. Kansas, Boston, Chicago... I am waiting in intense anticipation for a band named something like Sacramento or Birmingham. Dont forget Asia. They were big enough for an entire continent. The biggest one was perhaps Foreigner. They laid claim to everyone who was not an American and made us ponder what the "First Time" really felt like.

-Have the creative directors at VH1 been on vacation for about 5 years. If every show you air has a 2 or 3 after the title, it can’t be considered original programming. Do you really think Bret Michaels is looking for true love? Do you think that anyone who competed for his love belongs on television or in a mental institution? I mean, now they have a charm school show that does not truly try to rehabilitate these lost souls, instead, it shoves booze down their throats and lets them, well do their thing. Also, I am 65% sure that "New York" is a guy in drag.

-If the world is supposed to end in 2012, I will be more angry than sad or scared. Think about the line we will have to endure at the pearly gaits. I picture it being run like the Department of Motor Vehicles. I will take a number and it will be something like ‘4,543,896,002' and the little digital read out will say something like ‘43.’ My reaction would be to suspect I had ended up in hell.

-If I leave my room now and drive to the gas station, I may be involved in a fatal accident which changes the course of history forever. If I wait two minutes, the accident may avoid me but then we just travel down another alternate future which could lead to worse things than my own death. I watched Back To The Future entirely too much growing up.

-Is it possible to pull a muscle without actually doing anything? I realize that I have been living a fairly sedentary lifestyle of late but when I suddenly grab a joint in pain while sitting, that is a bad sign, right? I think I have that disease from the movie "Jack" where he ages incredibly fast. If that is the case, I hope I get Alzheimmers. At least I will meet new people every day.

-Shamwow is looking for a new spokesperson. How hard could that job be? In case you hadn't heard, the creepy skinny guy they used to have doing the commercial was recently seriously bitten on the tongue by a prostitute in Florida. Turns out the Shamwow people think that this could hurt their image. I say, the product speaks for itself. I could sell the shit out of that spongy rag.

-Who were some of the actors on "Chicago Hope"? I can name a bunch from ER but none from that terrible show. Hector Elizondo...ok, there’s one. That is all for that thought.

-Dire Straits could have either been one of the most insightful groups ever or one of the most random. Listen to "Sultans of Swing" or "Bug" and tell me they aren’t either deep or lost.

That is all for now. Piece y’all.