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Tangled Up in the Schneid

23 Feb

When people think of men playing slow pitch softball, a few images might pop into their heads. A bunch of non-athletic guys hobbling around and drinking beer. A church league where there are a lot of swings and misses. An intramural league in college where the athletics team up to dominate everyone else.

That may be what people think about, but I grew up in a different kind of game. My dad sponsored a professional men’s slow pitch softball team, and we played at the highest levels of the sport. We flew throughout the country to play in the biggest tournaments and had players at the peak of their athletic form. When I try to describe how good these guys were, people can’t believe that most of the players could hit softballs out of baseball stadiums.

(Time for a little bragging. In recent years, my dad, his manager and four of his players have been inducted into the Tennessee Softball Hall of Fame.)

We played in a lot of big games, but a game was truly important when Ray Molphy, the Voice of Softball, was announcing the game.Ray Molphy

I can vividly remember playing under the lights on a Saturday night with thousands of people around the field. Ray’s voice would be booming through the air as he announced the game. While he didn’t take sides, Ray told me privately that he was also pulling for us. Our budget wasn’t as large as the teams we were playing, so we were a perpetual underdog that made sure our opponent was in for a fight.

Like all good announcers, Ray had catchphrases that everyone recognized.

If a player had hit for a single and a home run, then he had hit for “the minimum and the maximum”.

When a team was coming up to bat in an inning, the first batter was in the box; the second batter was on deck; and, the third batter was “lurking in the shadows”.

If a player had not yet gotten a hit, then he was “tangled up in the schneid”.

I have been thinking about Ray’s lines because I feel that I am tangled up in the blogging schneid. I am having a hard time coming up with anything that is interesting or original. My posts are lacking something that I can’t put my finger on. It just feels that there is something missing.

When a player stepped to the plate and heard Ray talking about the schneid, they would react a couple of ways. One, they would get mad and make it worse. Two, they would use it for motivation to get a hit. I don’t know which way I am going to react, but, right now, I feel like the schneid is all over me.

Bane, Beyonce and Buffalo Wild Wings

6 Feb

Everyone knows that the Super Bowl turned into the NFL version of Vicki Lawrence’s 1972 hit “The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia“. The biggest sporting event that the United States has to offer came to a screeching halt, and officials of all sorts began to scramble all over themselves. Well, Twitter didn’t come to a halt, and those in the Twitterverse began to scramble to come up with the wittiest comments.

Like millions, I scanned my Twitter feed during this dark time and, like millions, noticed that I was reading the same stuff over and over. Twitter people come up with some very imaginative and funny lines, but they can also become copycats. I noticed that a few themes began to emerge. The first person who tweeted this things were being original and funny. The next billion or so were a little late to the “Super Bowl of the Dark Ages” party.

Bane was everywhere. Or was it Baine. No, it could have been Bain. For a one syllable named villain, there sure were a lot of spelling versions. He was an obvious reference for the interrupted game. It the movie, he blows up the field during a kickoff return for a touchdown. In real life, the lights went out after a kickoff return for a touchdown. I understand the reference and found it clever the first time. But, I didn’t find it clever the 10,000th time.

SPELL MY NAME!!!

SPELL MY NAME!!!

Beyonce was also all over Twitter. Of course, she was all over Twitter before the lights went out. All of the tweets were about her pulling all of the power out of the stadium or about her booty bumping into the generator. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if either one of those were the actual cause.

We bow to you, Mrs Carter.

We bow to you, Mrs Carter.

I thought the references to Buffalo Wild Wings were the most ingenious. For those who don’t know, the restaurant chain has a long running advertising campaign where patrons delay sporting events to stay in the bar longer. If I was the CEO of Buffalo Wild Wings, then I would have a new commercial out a fast as possible.

Yes, it was us.

Yes, it was us.

Those were funny, even though they got stale after a while. Another trend I did not find funny at all. Several tweets went out that mentioned how it was rich people who were trapped in the Super Dome this time. Obviously, this was a reference to people being trapped in the Super Dome during Hurricane Katrina. Also obviously, it was coming from people with a more liberal view of politics. I know this because there were some other tweets about it being the fault of the GOP.

Making fun of the GOP is fine, but I felt that the tweets took light of the situation during Katrina rather than making an overt political statement. It’s strange that those who consider themselves the most enlightened are sometimes the cruelest when attacking those who disagree with them. Folks on the extreme left and right will think this crazy, but I think they have more in common than they realize. Close-mindedness and refusing to understand the other view come to mind.

Ok, I didn’t mean to get on a political soapbox when I am actually on a Twitter soapbox. Now, back on track.

I’m not good at being funny on Twitter because I have an affliction. I think of clever stuff after the moment has passed. With that being said, here are some not clever things that I thought about after it was all over.

Andrew Jackson saved New Orleans once. He should have gone down there and saved it again. I know. History humor is not that humorous. Still, it took a Tennessee person to save New Orleans from the British, so I figure he could save it from Bane or Beyonce or Buffalo Wild Wings.

Hell, they already put up a statue of him down there.

Hell, they already put up a statue of him down there.

As an aside, it seems to always take a Tennessee person to get something done. Jackson saved New Orleans. Sam Houston brought in Texas. James K. Polk grabbed California. Cordell Hull created the United Nations. Tina Turner was Beyonce before there was a Beyonce.

I also thought of Marie Laveau, the witch queen of New Orleans. Redbone sang a song about her, but there is something better. If you knock on her grave three times, then she may grant you a wish. I knocked, but I didn’t get the wish. I figure she turned out the lights because the Super Bowl interrupted Mardi Gras.

Knock three times.

Knock three times.

However, I had another idea that was most fitting. The lights went out to honor Don Meredith, quarterback and Monday Night Football personality. Watch the video to understand why.

Turn out the lgihts. The party's over.

Turn out the lights. The party’s over.

That’s about it for my Super Bowl Twitter analysis.

A Plumber, a Presentation and Willie Nelson’s Book

11 Jan

I was going to write a post about the movies I saw this weekend. Three in three days. However, I don’t feel like putting a lot of thought into a cinematic analysis. Instead, this post is about today’s activities.

It started with the usual waking up process. It takes a while for me to get out of bed, but, when I do, I hit the floor running. There is no drinking of coffee or watching of the Today Show.

It's always weird to hear an announcer say, "Tomorrow on Today!"

It’s always weird to hear an announcer say, “Tomorrow on Today!”

It goes from bathroom activities to getting dressed to hitting the door. Getting up to flake around the house is not for me. It wastes good sleeping time.

I made it to campus in time for today’s in-service session. Several of the teachers who received summer grants talked about how they used to money. We learned about Chemistry, Biology, History, Economics and working with deaf athletes. Unfortunately, I had to go before the last presenter took the microphone.

They didn't use this kind of microphone, but it would have been cool if they did.

They didn’t use this kind of microphone, but it would have been cool if they did.

After a quick lunch, I returned to my office and worked on a few of the assignments for the upcoming semester. I have some new ideas that I hope will work out well. I also had to mess around with my iTunes. This new version got downloaded, and I am trying to figure out why songs that I deleted popped back up.

There was also an enlightening conversation with one of my History mates. We members of college faculties can have some interesting talks. I know the students would be surprised by that.

Once the conversation was over, I headed to the house to take care of some domestic issues. This included calling a plumber to work on a running toilet. It has already been looked at twice. You would think it would be tired of running by now. It also included calling someone to look at the gas logs. I need a little ambience around here.

On to the treadmill where I spent 45 minutes getting my heart rate up and reading Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die by Willie Nelson.

Appropriate title.

Appropriate title.

It’s not a scholarly work by any means, but it’s a good treadmill read. Yes, we members of college faculties like easy reads, too.

Let’s see. Treadmill. Willie. Then, the second shower of the day before a dinner of salad, chopped steak and a baked potato. Now, I am blogging and watching the Tennessee Lady Vols basketball team beat the crap out of the Missouri Tigers. The Lady Vols are pretty good this year, but it isn’t the same without Pat Summitt prowling the sidelines.

She is Tennessee basketball.

She is Tennessee basketball.

After the game, I may watch the original Ocean’s 11 with the Rat Pack.

Some real cool cats.

Some real cool cats.

Or, I may read some blogs. Or, I may think of a better blog post for next time.

Miracle at South Bend

2 Jan

While reading this blog, some of you may have realized that I am a fan of the University of Tennessee. However, I am not just a fan. I am a fanatic. As a certified fanatic, I have been lucky enough to attend numerous football games throughout the country. I don’t know how many games I have attended. The best way to describe it is to say that if there has been a game played over the past 38 years, then chances are good that I was there.

Bunches of games have been forgotten, but a few, both wins and losses, stand out. One of those is the 1991 game against Notre Dame. It has gone down in Tennessee history as the Miracle at South Bend. Tennessee fans throughout the nation remember that game and have a story that goes along with it. However, my story is a little more supernatural.

My brother and I took an RV with some people that we did business with. The trip northward was filled with food, drink, laughter and anticipation. Notre Dame, coached by Lou Holtz, came into the game with an 8-1 record, while Tennessee stood at 5-2. It was the 300th game to be played in storied Notre Dame Stadium and was Senior Day for players like Jerome Bettis.

We arrived in South Bend to find temperatures in the single digits and snow spitting from the sky. Most of our group, including my brother, wanted to hang around the RV and tailgate. I remember one of our crew wearing a short-sleeve shirt, thin khakis, loafers without socks and a windbreaker. He should have been cold, but I’m sure that he wasn’t.

I didn’t want to tailgate. I had never been to Notre Dame and wanted to walk around the historic campus. There was Touchdown Jesus.

After the last field goal attempt, he was crossing his arms.

After the last field goal attempt, he was crossing his arms.

There was the grotto.

It's a beautiful place.

It’s a beautiful place.

Of course, there was the stadium.

It was filled with people when I was there.

It was filled with people when I was there.

I walked into the stadium as soon as the gates opened and found my seat in the end zone. There was an old man sitting in the seat next to mind, but I was too busy taking in the scene to say anything to him. Finally, he spoke and said:

“What part of Tennessee are you from?”

“I live close to Nashville. Do you live close by?”

“You could say that. How do you feel about the game?”

“I don’t feel very good about it.”

He smiled slightly and said:

“Don’t worry. Your team is going to win 35-34.”

That’s the last thing we said to each other. As game time approached, more people filled the seats, and my brother showed up. Then, the game began. At least, it began for Notre Dame. They ran and ran and ran. Up and down the field they went. With the first half coming to a close, Notre Dame was up 31-7 and was lining up for a field goal. My brother said that if something dramatic didn’t happen, then he was going back to the RV.

Something dramatic happened. Craig Hentrich, who would later punt for the Tennessee Titans, had his field goal blocked and Tennessee returned it for a touchdown. Everybody went crazy, but the man next to me never moved. Throughout the game, he never stood. He never talked. He never did anything but watch.

At the half, Notre Dame led 31-14, and my brother did not go back to the RV. It’s a goog thing because the second half belonged to Tennessee. They gradually cut into the lead, and, for some reason, Holtz abandoned the run and started throwing. Tennessee crept closer and closer. Coming toward our end zone, Tennessee scored to go up 35-34. I remembered what the man had said and turn to tell him that he was a genius, but he never looked at me.

Notre Dame got the ball and went back to the run. They should have been doing it all day because they drove straight down the field. With a few seconds left, they lined up for a short field goal to win. However, Notre Dame had a problem. Hentrich had been injured on the earlier field goal, and the backup kicker had to come in.

The snap. The hold. The kick. One of our guys flew in, and the ball hit him in the hip. The ball kept going but was wide left. Tennessee fans went crazy. We were jumping, hugging, giving out high fives. Tennessee won 35-34, just like the man said we would. I turned to hug him, but he was gone. The man had vanished into thin air.

Then, my brother was pulling at me. As the Notre Dame band played, Tennessee fans were storming the field. We had to go with them. We hugged players, coaches and other players wearing orange. We mingled with the band and Notre Dame players. We grabbed grass to keep as a souvenir.

It was the greatest ever comeback against Notre Dame. It was one of the greatest wins in Tennessee history. It was a game that made me wonder. Who was that guy? How did he know what the score would be? How did he suddenly disappear? I have always heard that there are ghosts in the stadium at Notre Dame, and I am convinced that I met one of them.

Choices

18 Dec

My nephew is home from his first semester of college, and we decided that tonight would be a good time to get together. The question was – what to do?

Our first choice was to watch Monday Night Football.

Are you ready for some football? Not really.

Are you ready for some football? Not really.

I don’t mean watch it on television. I mean watch it at the stadium. Tonight’s game was our Tennessee Titans against the New York Jets. Both teams suck, so we went with another option.

That option included a meeting of the Agriculture Center Management Committee. This is government at its highest level as we discussed putting in a bid for a championship rodeo. The presentation went on and on until I finally asked if we needed to vote on this. My comment included something about how we had been talking about it for 45 minutes. It was time to vote.

As soon as it passed, my nephew and I left. On the way out, he said that we didn’t follow parliamentary procedure and could have taken the vote about 40 minutes sooner. Look, if it takes that long for a county level committee to decide something, then think about all of the crap that goes on in Washington. It’s a wonder that anything gets done. Maybe, we would be better off if it didn’t.

After the meeting, we went to an Asian restaurant for fried rice and sweet and sour chicken.

I wonder if they really eat this stuff in China.

I wonder if they really eat this stuff in China.

Once dinner was devoured, we saw “The Hobbit”. My nephew has not seen the original trilogy, and I wondered if that would make a difference. It didn’t. He kept talking about how cool the special effects were and asking how long the movie was going to last. It did last a long time. They spent a lot of time talking in the middle of spending a lot of time fighting.

I won’t spoil the movie for those who haven’t seen it or read the book, but a few things stood out. First, no matter the situation there is always a magical or miraculous way out. Second, Gandalf seems to want people to struggle.

You must struggle before I save you.

You must struggle before I save you.

With a little magic, he could make things a lot easier. Of course, that’s the way it is with all magic stories. It is a struggle throughout but turns out to be simple in the end.

After the movie, I told my nephew that he should watch the trilogy. His first question, “Is Dumbledore in them?” I told him that Gandalf cam before Dumbledore and that Dumbledore was probably some kind of copy. I ended my little speech with, “Yes, Dumbledore is in them.”

The Cullman Comet

15 Oct

This weekend, my friends and I drove to Starkville, Mississippi to watch the University of Tennessee play Mississippi State University in football. The best way to get there from here is to go through Alabama. Yes, Mississippi borders Tennessee but going through another bordering state is the fastest route. Weird, I know.

It is also the best route because it allows us to stop in Cullman, Alabama and eat at the All Steak Restaurant, home of the world-famous orange marmalade rolls.

Passion on a Plate

We got a lot of looks as we walked in because we were wearing the colors of our team, and that’s not something seen very often in Alabama. An elderly man wearing a crimson University of Alabama shirt took special notice and walked to our table when he was finished eating. He was a nice man who asked us where we were from and what we thought about our team. After a few minutes, we offered him a seat.

He introduced himself as Tom Drake, and we spent the lunch hearing the story of his life – one of the most interesting stories I have ever heard.

Mr. Drake was born in Cullman County and found his way from there to Chattanooga, where he played football and wrestled in college. After college, he was drafted by the Pittsburgh Steelers, but the army drafted him, as well. In those days, the federal government was more powerful that the NFL, so off to the army he went.

After being honorably discharged, Mr. Drake was hired by Bear Bryant to coach wrestling and football for the Crimson Tide. When we asked who was the best player he ever coached, he did not hesitate to say Joe Willie Namath. However, coaching was not his calling, and Mr. Drake went to law school.

Bear Bryant and Joe Willie Namath

While still enrolled in school, he won a seat in the state legislature and continued to be elected for 32 years.  During that time, Mr. Drake served as Speaker of the House and worked closely with infamous governor, George Wallace.

In Birmingham, they love the governor.

Now, that is an event filled life, but there was more. Mr. Drake spent his spare time as a professional wrestler. Fighting under the name “The Cullman Comet”, Mr. Drake fought against some of the most famous wrestlers of the era. He was later inducted into the International Wrestlers Hall of Fame.

The Cullman Comet

With such a wide array of talents and experiences, Mr. Drake made a perfect contestant for What’s My Line?, and he appeared on that show in the 1970s.

We barely had time to ask questions as he told story after story. However, his most important story was about his wife. They did everything together, but she died a year ago from brain cancer. He said that he still hasn’t recovered from the loss, and I got the feeling that he just needed someone to talk to. He needed to talk about his life and his memories, and I felt honored that he picked three strangers who were wearing the wrong colors.

Mr. Drake said that he is writing a book, and I hope that he finishes it. The book would chronicle a man’s life but also a piece of our history. I was reminded during lunch that history can be found anywhere. It can be found in old documents, but it can also be found in a conversation at the All Steak Restaurant in Cullman, Alabama.

Now Taking the Field, the Fighting Imbeciles!

20 Sep

The Natural was on television the other night, and I caught the ending. For those who don’t know, it is an 80s movie starring Robert Redford and is about an aging baseball player who finally makes it to the major leagues. Honestly, the ending still makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck, and I have seen it a thousand times.

After it was over, I had this bright and original blogging idea. I wondered what the starting lineup would look like on an All-Movie baseball team. Unfortunately, the idea wasn’t all that original because these things can be found on blogs all across the Internet. It doesn’t matter because I can’t let a good, unoriginal idea go to waste.

Here are the parameters:

The players have to be fictional characters. There are a bunch of movies about real baseball players.

The players have to be in a movie that I have seen.

There was an attempt to have each player be from a different movie, but that didn’t work out.

This is only the starting lineup, and there is no designated hitter. There are tons of people who have filled out an entire team, but I’m not that interesting in this project.

In no particular order, here is the starting lineup for the Fighting Imbeciles.

From The Natural, Roy Hobbs plays right field. Great left-handed hitter. Decent fielder. Suffers from the effects of old injuries.

Manager’s quote: “The best…hitter I ever saw.”

From Major League, Willie Mays Hayes plays center field. Tremendous speed. Needs to be more disciplined at the plate.

Player’s quote: “I hit like Mays, and I run like Hayes.”

From Field of Dreams, Moonlight Graham plays right field. Contact hitter. Unproven defensively. High baseball IQ.

Smart enough to be a doctor one day.

From For Love of the Game, Billy Chapel is on the mound. Future Hall of Famer. Allows outside troubles to affect his focus.

Has a real connection with his catcher.

From Bull Durham, Crash Davis is behind the plate. Good bat. Can handle a pitcher. Deserves a shot at the big time.

Could be Billy Chapel’s younger brother.

From Mr. Baseball, Jack Elliot plays first base. Great bat. Spending time in Japan gives him a better attitude.

Player’s quote: “We’re not athletes! We’re baseball players!”

From A League of Their Own, Marla Hooch plays second base. Great hitter. Great team player.

And there’s Marla Hooch. What a hitter!

From The Sandlot, Benny Rodriguez takes the field at shortstop. Knows how to go get a ball. Plays the game like a kid.

Player’s quote: “Chuck it like you throw paper.”

From Major League, Roger Dorn covers third base. Wily veteran. Needs to be more of a team player.

Player’s quote: “I don’t have to do any calisthenics.”

From The Bad News Bears, Morris Buttermaker manages the team. Can make a team out of any combination of players.

Quote: “This quitting thing, it’s a hard habit to break once you start.”

I wonder if this bunch can win.

Baseball, Crazy Horse and a Great Big Rock

7 Aug

I have returned from my ventures in Montana and can report that a great time was had by all. The best part was spending time with my dad, my brother and my nephews. We picked on each other, laughed and learned a few things along the way.

The trip began as we landed in Billings and found our way to the hotel. It was immediately apparent that my oldest nephew would be the navigator of the trip as we felt our way through the town. We had planned a journey through history, agriculture and different landscapes, but first we needed to do something for my youngest nephew. That meant going to a baseball game.

Good looking bunch, isn’t it?

We saw a Rookie League game between the Billings Mustangs and the Helena Brewers, and you could tell from the quality of play that this was about as low in professional baseball as someone could get. There were dropped balls, balks and wild pitches. However, the action is not what caught my attention. These guys were living the dream of playing pro ball and trying to move up through the ranks. Then, I realized that the Brewers are part of the same organization as Nashville’s AAA team. Those guys were working hard to get to Tennessee on their way to Milwaukee.

While living their dream, the players were offering entertainment for the community. The stands were filled with people of all ages, from the very old to the very young. The outfield fence was lined with people in lawn chairs. We found ourselves in a real community event, and that is one of the things I like about these kinds of trips. At times, you can avoid the typical tourist destinations and immerse yourself in another lifestyle.

We talked to the people around us and learned about life in and around Billings. We got free t-shirts for being among the first 500 fans. We paid reasonable prices for food and paid a dollar to enter the pitching cage. For one night, we were honorary citizens of Billings.

The next morning, our driving journey began as we headed down Interstate 90 toward the Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument. This is where George Custer and the 7th Cavalry was defeated by Sioux warriors led by Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse. It is my favorite historic site and an event that I have read many volumes about. We drove to Last Stand Hill, where my nephew wanted to film me giving my lecture on the battle. I talked about the events that led to the fight. I talked about the battle as I looked over the land and pointed out where different stages took place. When I finished, I turned and discovered that about 20 people had gathered around to listen. Then, I spent time answering questions.

As a historian and a teacher, there is nothing better than being able to talk about an event where it took place. I wish I could beam my classes to different places as we cover them.

The site of two big events – Custer’s Last Stand and my lecture.

After a drive through the battlefield, we went across the street to KFC. Yes, the Sioux won the battle but the Colonel won the war. Unfortunately for the Kentuckians, the KFC didn’t open when the sign said it would, so we went to the Custer Battlefield Trading Post instead. I had fry bread stuffed with meat, cheese and beans. After that, I had fry bread covered with honey. It wasn’t as good as the sopapillas of New Mexico, but beggars can’t be choosy.

As we dined, a photograph of an imposing Native American looked down on us.

This is a Native American warrior – not a founder of a chain of strip clubs.

I didn’t pay much attention to the photo because images like this can be found in books and places throughout the West. Then, the owner of the trading post came by the table to see how we were. My brother told him that I was a historian of the West, and the guy asked:

“Do you know who that is?”

“I don’t think I do.”

“That’s Crazy Horse.”

Here’s the thing. Every book I have read and every teacher I have heard tell the same story. Crazy Horse refused to have his picture taken. Now, the owner of a tourist trap is telling me that I am looking at the image of Crazy Horse. After the meal, he took us to another room; pointed out the smaller original; said that the descendants told him privately that it is a photo of the warrior; and, gave me a free copy to put in my classroom. Is it really Crazy Horse? I don’t know, but I hope it is.

We left the trading post and got into the SUV. Unfortunately, our door hit a red truck parked next to us. The woman in the truck jumped on us pretty good, and we got out of there as fast as possible. George Custer could only wish that he had our instincts.

We drive north and hit a back road (interstates suck on these kinds of trips) toward Pompeys Pillar.

Did Sean Connery and Nicholas Cage make a movie about this place?

This rock was seen by William Clark on his return voyage with the Corps of Discovery. As Meriwether Lewis traveled on the Missouri River, Clark went down the Yellowstone River.

The Yellowstone River

Clark climbed the rock; named it Pompeys Tower in honor of Sacagawea’s son; and, carved his name on it. People say that it is the only permanent mark the Corps of Discovery made on the land they explored.

William Clark was here.

I’m not sure about that. They told the Native Americans that the land they lived on was owned by the United States. Over 70 years later and only a few miles away, the Battle of Little Bighorn would be one of the results of that statement.

Blankety Blank

21 Jul

My mind is blank, and I can’t think of anything to write about. I have tried every prompt that comes to mind – checked my documents; clicked through Inspiro; surfed the television guide; et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. All of that, and my mind is blank.

Let’s see, I woke up this morning and looked at Twitter. As you probably know, it was filled with news of the shootings in Aurora, Colorado. I don’t know what to say about that, and whatever I write has probably already been written. Somehow, I feel that the more it and other tragedies are tweeted and televised – the more unreal they become. We read and watch with fascination more than horror. Perhaps, we have become too accustomed to such events, or we have become a “reality show” culture and watch true events the same way.

I didn’t turn on the news. Instead, I watched the Tour de France. Does that make me cold and uncaring? I’m not sure, but I really didn’t want to watch carnage.

After watching some cycling, I took a shower and logged into WordPress. I saw some interesting posts by the people who I follow and read a few. Soon, it was time to head for lunch.

I eat lunch every Friday with my dad, brother and some of our friends. Lunch is always in the backroom of Gondola Restaurant. As a result, we have come to be known as the Gondola Mafia. We talk about local issues, politics, economy, sports. It seems that we cover the same topics every week. In fact, I have been counting how many times I hear the same stories and complaints.

When lunch was over, I returned home and read The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, a great book that I started yesterday. I should be finished soon and will post about it. It is an amazing story that has impacted everyone reading these words.

I read while I waited for the delivery of a piece of furniture. I needed a new bedside table and got one earlier in the week. The store said it would be between 3:00 and 5:00. I was prepared to wait until 6:00, but they hit the middle at 4:00.

Eventually, I turned on the news and caught up on the events in Colorado. It is a tragedy, and I wish the information providers would show respect and let the police do their jobs instead of trying to be the first to know everything. On top of that, I am probably too cynical, but I am not comfortable watching the two guys running from president falling all over themselves in an attempt to show the country who could be the most sympathetic.

So, that was the extent of my day. Maybe, my mind is blank because I killed too many brain cells with a day full of blankness.

Lou Gehrig, the Babe and a Girl Named Jackie

13 Jun

Did you know that a girl from Chattanooga, Tennessee struck out Lou Gehrig and Babe Ruth? In 1931, Jackie Mitchel, a seventeen year old hurler, signed a minor league contract with the Chattanooga Lookouts. A few days later, the New York Yankees arrived in town to play an exhibition game.

After seeing the starting pitcher struggle, the manager put Mitchell into the game, and she struck out the first batter she faced on four pitches. That batter was Babe Ruth. She struck out the next hitter, Lou Gehrig, on three pitches. Although the Yankees won the game, the story of the female pitcher who struck out the two legends dominated the headlines.

When Kennesaw Mountain Landis, commissioner of baseball, heard the news, he immediately voided Mitchell’s contract. His excuse was that baseball was too strenuous for women to participate.