http://tedsillanpaa.blogspot.com/
That's the address where you can find things I've written recently.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Hey Kids...Check the New Site
It's too much hassle to post the same words in two different places, so I'm just posting at the new site...
I suppose this is the true test of interest in what appears here...making that commitment to cut and paste the new address and then wait the 10 seconds to get to it...it takes some want-to to get to my words now. Sorry.
ts
I suppose this is the true test of interest in what appears here...making that commitment to cut and paste the new address and then wait the 10 seconds to get to it...it takes some want-to to get to my words now. Sorry.
ts
http://tedsillanpaa.blogspot.com/
In the process of making some bizarre claims, a member of my fan club over on the T/S Topix Web spot complained, I guess it was a complaint, that my blog address was misleading because it isn't doesn't focus on the North Coast. So, I'm going to write at the blog address I grabbed and never really used:
http://tedsillanpaa.blogspot.com/
I'm willing to risk losing two of the five people who probably check this space regularly in order to make sure the goods come as advertised -- although, I don't actually advertise or promise to deliver anything.
http://tedsillanpaa.blogspot.com/
Check that Web address for the new, not actually improved spot for random thoughts and stories that might or might not have anything to do with my hometown.
Thanks,
TED
http://tedsillanpaa.blogspot.com/
I'm willing to risk losing two of the five people who probably check this space regularly in order to make sure the goods come as advertised -- although, I don't actually advertise or promise to deliver anything.
http://tedsillanpaa.blogspot.com/
Check that Web address for the new, not actually improved spot for random thoughts and stories that might or might not have anything to do with my hometown.
Thanks,
TED
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Making Stuff Up
Some people get mad if I write about stuff I see on the Times-Standard Topix site in this space, rather than on the T/S site.
Who cares if I write anything at all? Who cares if I write over there or over here?
The people, like the guy last summer who claimed I hadn't played any baseball in college 30 years ago, just want to argue where they figure they'll have the biggest audience. It's understandable, though, and part of what's wrong with our being able to write anything we want about anything or anyone without having to identify ourselves.
I doubt many people pay much attention to this site. People visit or stumble on the T/S comments section all the time, by the hundreds. So, I decided, the people who want to make a public case of their issues with me before hundreds or thousands, rather than here where maybe dozen people visit.
I just read on the T/S site a comment where a guy states without fear of equivocation that my "relatives" and I make anonymous comments on the T/S site. The nitwit wrote that I'm "shadowy."
I don't have any "relatives" I'm in contact with beyond my 4 kids and a couple cousins -- one in Fort Bragg and one in Minnesota. This knucklehead said my "relatives" and I posted anonymously and then that I posted using my real name and then asked mysteriously, "How do I know?" I guess that guy figures I'm scared about being outed or something on the T/S site.
"How do I know?" is intended to infer the poster is in possession of secret information that I'm trying to hide.
I don't know if I have relatives routinely posting anonymously on the T/S site. I God knows in the universal scheme of things, I've got bigger things to handle than orchestrating some covert plan to ... post comments on my hometown newspaper's Web site.
Some people seem jealous that folks sometimes ask me, specifically, a question about North Coast sports or the North Coast media. They think I think I'm important if somebody wonders what I think about, say, the Eureka High basketball team.
Um, I don't really feel important if somebody asks me a question about high school sports.
I like writing about this stuff, but ... that's it. I like doing it. It's that simple.
http://tedsillanpaa.blogspot.com/
Who cares if I write anything at all? Who cares if I write over there or over here?
The people, like the guy last summer who claimed I hadn't played any baseball in college 30 years ago, just want to argue where they figure they'll have the biggest audience. It's understandable, though, and part of what's wrong with our being able to write anything we want about anything or anyone without having to identify ourselves.
I doubt many people pay much attention to this site. People visit or stumble on the T/S comments section all the time, by the hundreds. So, I decided, the people who want to make a public case of their issues with me before hundreds or thousands, rather than here where maybe dozen people visit.
I just read on the T/S site a comment where a guy states without fear of equivocation that my "relatives" and I make anonymous comments on the T/S site. The nitwit wrote that I'm "shadowy."
I don't have any "relatives" I'm in contact with beyond my 4 kids and a couple cousins -- one in Fort Bragg and one in Minnesota. This knucklehead said my "relatives" and I posted anonymously and then that I posted using my real name and then asked mysteriously, "How do I know?" I guess that guy figures I'm scared about being outed or something on the T/S site.
"How do I know?" is intended to infer the poster is in possession of secret information that I'm trying to hide.
I don't know if I have relatives routinely posting anonymously on the T/S site. I God knows in the universal scheme of things, I've got bigger things to handle than orchestrating some covert plan to ... post comments on my hometown newspaper's Web site.
Some people seem jealous that folks sometimes ask me, specifically, a question about North Coast sports or the North Coast media. They think I think I'm important if somebody wonders what I think about, say, the Eureka High basketball team.
Um, I don't really feel important if somebody asks me a question about high school sports.
I like writing about this stuff, but ... that's it. I like doing it. It's that simple.
http://tedsillanpaa.blogspot.com/
Friday, January 16, 2009
Big Daddy Bob Barnett ... and Radio/TV Memories
There was a time when folks identified the North Coast with the people on KRED, KATA, KINS...or way back when...KDAN.
Few likely remember them, but my top five, all-time favorite North Coast radio personalities are...with some honorable mentions:
1. Big Daddy Bob Barnett...he was KRED AM and was the king of county Top 40 radio in the 1960s. Lots of contests. Lots of prizes. He had an out-sized personality and seemed, to me, to be way bigger than the market he served.
2. Dean Elliott...he was a senior statesman at KINS when I began following the San Francisco Giants, literally, on a tiny transistor radio. It seemed like he was on the air leading up to every single Giants' broadcast...and every broadcast seemed to be preceded by a Ducks Market jingle, "Ducks Market is open today! YES! Ducks is open tooooday!" Then, Elliott would intro the Giants lockerroom show. There was indeed a time when there was no way to get the score of a Giants game if it went final after the 6 o' clock news and before the morning paper came out. My mom made Dean Elliott's existence much more uncomfortable on the night in 1965 when I griped about not knowing if the Giants beat the Reds in Cincinnati and she said, "Why don't you call KINS and ask them who won?" So...I called...Elliott answered the phone and gave me the score. I called a lot ... like every night that my Midget League baseball game started at the same time the Giants game started in the midwest or back east. The last time I called Elliott, the sound in his voice made it really clear that he had been particularly pleased to hear the phone ring and ring and ring and ring until he put on song and could answer. He still gave the final score, though.
3. Tom Kenlon...TK! He was KATA when I was listening to Top 40 all the time and cheering the fact that the hidious country format on K-A-T-A (which was then pronounced like "Arcata," sans the "Ar"...sounded hillbilly, just like the music) had disappeared. Kenlon had a rich voice...pretty good sense of humor and sounded more like a Top 40 DJ than any Top 40 DJ of the time. Then, I met him when I did a daily sports report on KINS in the 1980s and, while he was a really nice guy, he didn't look like he sounded. By then, I guess, none of them look like they sound.
4. Bob Turner/Gary Meade...They both were radio and TV personalities of note in the 1960s and, in Turner's case, into the early 1970s. Turner did a lot of everything and, again, I thought he was better than being stuck in Eureka. Meade hit his zenith when he did the weather on KIEM, when it was still telecast in black and white. That was a big move for a radio DJ. They had the area temperatures written on a white board in grease pen...and Meade played it straight as an arrow, in his dark suit and thin dark tie.
5. Bob Wells...He was at KINS when I was doing that 5-minute daily sportscast. Great voice. Funny guy with a dry sense of humor that got lost as KINS slid further from music and more toward...yuk...talk radio. He had intelligence that, once I got past living and dying to hear Casey Kasem's American Top 40 on Saturday evenings, I appreciated. When I think of radio...I think of Bob Wells because, as mentioned, it's never what we imagine it to be. I was driving around one night, listening to Wells and the music. I had to stop at KINS for some work related thing. I pulled in and I could hear Wells talking and laughing and joking...and I could see him in the DJ booth through the glass on the front door of the KINS offices,er, the KINS broadcast center. Wells was in the building alone. There wasn't a car in the parking lot. He was just standing out there at the foot of the marsh...in the dead of night...sounding like he was at a cocktail party we all wished we could've crashed. That, my friends, is talent.
6. Brad Stanhope/Paul Bressoud...Brad and Paul did Humboldt Crabs baseball games on the radio while they attended HSU and did their best to ruin the reputation of K-HSU and the Humboldt Crabs. I wouldn't necessarily tell either of them this if I saw them...but, they were the only even adequate baseball announcers the Crabs have ever allowed to drive Don Terbush nuts calling games from the Arcata Ball Park. Now, I know that old Hoke Holcumb (Huck Hokum?) guy referred to former St. Bernard High pitchers David Sharp and Tyren Sillanpaa as "diaper dandies" and "fabulous freshmen" and all sorts of silly things when they first spent time with the Crabs...and no dad can knock anybody who'd give his son and his wish-he-was-my-son nicknames...but, Stanhope and Bressoud were better than Hoke or Hulk or whatever his name is. (And, I wish I knew his name because I'd use it correctly here.) And, Brad and Bressoud were just kids...or, as Hoke might say, "members of the kiddie corps." With the exception of the time something came unplugged and they did most of a game into dead microphones...and drove Don Terbush batty in the process...they were good.
7. Norm Souter...He did a little bit of everything for KRED and other stations in the early 1970s. At one point, he did play-by-play for high school basketball games. I really wanted to be a radio guy...or a TV guy...and play-by-play was my goal...then, I walked into the St. Bernard High gymnasium one night and saw Souter huddled on the end of the top row, headphones on, microphone in hand, scorebook perched in his lap...people bumping into him...calling a game as though he were at the NBA Finals. More power to Souter, but I immediately realized I didn't have the stomach for the climb up the play-by-play ladder.
8. Bill Terry...I know the guys who do prep sports back home now are famous, but Terry started the real committment to broadcasting local sports events out of the station in Fortuna. While I loved that a former Fortuna police chief would turn to doing high school and sometimes Little League games on radio, I also liked that Terry took the game seriously but didn't take himself seriously. There are some wildly popular guys doing broadcasts in the Napa area who are so wrapped up in being them that there's really no point in listening to the games on radio. The score, the details...are secondary to their personalities. But...Terry...ah...every game was the most important thing. I have cassette tape recordings of him doing the Little League Tournament of Champions ... with the team I coached, that included my then 10-year-old son Trent and his buddies, playing. Terry clearly couldn't memorize 18 Little Leaguers' names in a matter of minutes...but, he did a masterful job calling the game using their numbers and referring to them by their position. (Plus...we can hear a very, very young Ben Larson -- who went onto sports stardom at Eureka Hig -- shriek when we scored a run. He sounded like Casper the Friendly ghost.)
9. Dee Shanahan...She was on radio and, I'd bet, did TV later. She was the first woman I heard or saw on the air. Carol Olson followed her and built a respected career on the North Coast.
10. Don Michaels...He was county recorder to everybody else, but he was the Walter Cronkie of North Coast TV news to me when I was growing up. He certainly merits a special mention as the best newscaster, all-time.
At some point, Rollin Trehearne (who debuted as Rollin "The Rat" Trehearne with Dana Hall, er, Arcata Slim on KATA in the 1980s) will crack this list. Ah, Trehearne and Hall are on the list already...take away the numbers...they can't be in order. I remember when I enlisted "Slim" and "The Rat" to work the March of Dimes Walk-a-Thon in about 1979...and realized that "Slim" wasn't slim at all and that, I suppose, "The Rat" was a pretty good nickname for a very, very young Trehearne.
Few likely remember them, but my top five, all-time favorite North Coast radio personalities are...with some honorable mentions:
1. Big Daddy Bob Barnett...he was KRED AM and was the king of county Top 40 radio in the 1960s. Lots of contests. Lots of prizes. He had an out-sized personality and seemed, to me, to be way bigger than the market he served.
2. Dean Elliott...he was a senior statesman at KINS when I began following the San Francisco Giants, literally, on a tiny transistor radio. It seemed like he was on the air leading up to every single Giants' broadcast...and every broadcast seemed to be preceded by a Ducks Market jingle, "Ducks Market is open today! YES! Ducks is open tooooday!" Then, Elliott would intro the Giants lockerroom show. There was indeed a time when there was no way to get the score of a Giants game if it went final after the 6 o' clock news and before the morning paper came out. My mom made Dean Elliott's existence much more uncomfortable on the night in 1965 when I griped about not knowing if the Giants beat the Reds in Cincinnati and she said, "Why don't you call KINS and ask them who won?" So...I called...Elliott answered the phone and gave me the score. I called a lot ... like every night that my Midget League baseball game started at the same time the Giants game started in the midwest or back east. The last time I called Elliott, the sound in his voice made it really clear that he had been particularly pleased to hear the phone ring and ring and ring and ring until he put on song and could answer. He still gave the final score, though.
3. Tom Kenlon...TK! He was KATA when I was listening to Top 40 all the time and cheering the fact that the hidious country format on K-A-T-A (which was then pronounced like "Arcata," sans the "Ar"...sounded hillbilly, just like the music) had disappeared. Kenlon had a rich voice...pretty good sense of humor and sounded more like a Top 40 DJ than any Top 40 DJ of the time. Then, I met him when I did a daily sports report on KINS in the 1980s and, while he was a really nice guy, he didn't look like he sounded. By then, I guess, none of them look like they sound.
4. Bob Turner/Gary Meade...They both were radio and TV personalities of note in the 1960s and, in Turner's case, into the early 1970s. Turner did a lot of everything and, again, I thought he was better than being stuck in Eureka. Meade hit his zenith when he did the weather on KIEM, when it was still telecast in black and white. That was a big move for a radio DJ. They had the area temperatures written on a white board in grease pen...and Meade played it straight as an arrow, in his dark suit and thin dark tie.
5. Bob Wells...He was at KINS when I was doing that 5-minute daily sportscast. Great voice. Funny guy with a dry sense of humor that got lost as KINS slid further from music and more toward...yuk...talk radio. He had intelligence that, once I got past living and dying to hear Casey Kasem's American Top 40 on Saturday evenings, I appreciated. When I think of radio...I think of Bob Wells because, as mentioned, it's never what we imagine it to be. I was driving around one night, listening to Wells and the music. I had to stop at KINS for some work related thing. I pulled in and I could hear Wells talking and laughing and joking...and I could see him in the DJ booth through the glass on the front door of the KINS offices,er, the KINS broadcast center. Wells was in the building alone. There wasn't a car in the parking lot. He was just standing out there at the foot of the marsh...in the dead of night...sounding like he was at a cocktail party we all wished we could've crashed. That, my friends, is talent.
6. Brad Stanhope/Paul Bressoud...Brad and Paul did Humboldt Crabs baseball games on the radio while they attended HSU and did their best to ruin the reputation of K-HSU and the Humboldt Crabs. I wouldn't necessarily tell either of them this if I saw them...but, they were the only even adequate baseball announcers the Crabs have ever allowed to drive Don Terbush nuts calling games from the Arcata Ball Park. Now, I know that old Hoke Holcumb (Huck Hokum?) guy referred to former St. Bernard High pitchers David Sharp and Tyren Sillanpaa as "diaper dandies" and "fabulous freshmen" and all sorts of silly things when they first spent time with the Crabs...and no dad can knock anybody who'd give his son and his wish-he-was-my-son nicknames...but, Stanhope and Bressoud were better than Hoke or Hulk or whatever his name is. (And, I wish I knew his name because I'd use it correctly here.) And, Brad and Bressoud were just kids...or, as Hoke might say, "members of the kiddie corps." With the exception of the time something came unplugged and they did most of a game into dead microphones...and drove Don Terbush batty in the process...they were good.
7. Norm Souter...He did a little bit of everything for KRED and other stations in the early 1970s. At one point, he did play-by-play for high school basketball games. I really wanted to be a radio guy...or a TV guy...and play-by-play was my goal...then, I walked into the St. Bernard High gymnasium one night and saw Souter huddled on the end of the top row, headphones on, microphone in hand, scorebook perched in his lap...people bumping into him...calling a game as though he were at the NBA Finals. More power to Souter, but I immediately realized I didn't have the stomach for the climb up the play-by-play ladder.
8. Bill Terry...I know the guys who do prep sports back home now are famous, but Terry started the real committment to broadcasting local sports events out of the station in Fortuna. While I loved that a former Fortuna police chief would turn to doing high school and sometimes Little League games on radio, I also liked that Terry took the game seriously but didn't take himself seriously. There are some wildly popular guys doing broadcasts in the Napa area who are so wrapped up in being them that there's really no point in listening to the games on radio. The score, the details...are secondary to their personalities. But...Terry...ah...every game was the most important thing. I have cassette tape recordings of him doing the Little League Tournament of Champions ... with the team I coached, that included my then 10-year-old son Trent and his buddies, playing. Terry clearly couldn't memorize 18 Little Leaguers' names in a matter of minutes...but, he did a masterful job calling the game using their numbers and referring to them by their position. (Plus...we can hear a very, very young Ben Larson -- who went onto sports stardom at Eureka Hig -- shriek when we scored a run. He sounded like Casper the Friendly ghost.)
9. Dee Shanahan...She was on radio and, I'd bet, did TV later. She was the first woman I heard or saw on the air. Carol Olson followed her and built a respected career on the North Coast.
10. Don Michaels...He was county recorder to everybody else, but he was the Walter Cronkie of North Coast TV news to me when I was growing up. He certainly merits a special mention as the best newscaster, all-time.
At some point, Rollin Trehearne (who debuted as Rollin "The Rat" Trehearne with Dana Hall, er, Arcata Slim on KATA in the 1980s) will crack this list. Ah, Trehearne and Hall are on the list already...take away the numbers...they can't be in order. I remember when I enlisted "Slim" and "The Rat" to work the March of Dimes Walk-a-Thon in about 1979...and realized that "Slim" wasn't slim at all and that, I suppose, "The Rat" was a pretty good nickname for a very, very young Trehearne.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
EHS Uproar...Practically Speaking
High school athletes aren't public figures.
High school athletes shouldn't have off-court actions described in detail in public forums.
It's 2009 and people use the Internet any, ol' way they want.
My 13-year-old son begins his interscholastic sports experience as a 7th grader knowing that the only way to make sure he never has to defend himself over making bad decisions away from his sports is ... to make sure he makes good decisions.
I hate the idea of a Eureka High basketball star being raked over hot coals by jealous and spiteful critics for something that has nothing to do with sports. But, it's obvious he mad a decision at some point that provided his attackers with ammunition and...boy...have they used it to get after him.
Nobody's perfect. But, starting the minute you get on the court or on the field in the school's uniforms...in this day and age...you damn well better know that being anything except as close to a perfect citizen as you can be is asking for trouble.
If you don't do anything wrong, you can't get knocked for doing something wrong.
High school athletes shouldn't have off-court actions described in detail in public forums.
It's 2009 and people use the Internet any, ol' way they want.
My 13-year-old son begins his interscholastic sports experience as a 7th grader knowing that the only way to make sure he never has to defend himself over making bad decisions away from his sports is ... to make sure he makes good decisions.
I hate the idea of a Eureka High basketball star being raked over hot coals by jealous and spiteful critics for something that has nothing to do with sports. But, it's obvious he mad a decision at some point that provided his attackers with ammunition and...boy...have they used it to get after him.
Nobody's perfect. But, starting the minute you get on the court or on the field in the school's uniforms...in this day and age...you damn well better know that being anything except as close to a perfect citizen as you can be is asking for trouble.
If you don't do anything wrong, you can't get knocked for doing something wrong.
Eureka High Basketball ... Uproar
http://www.topix.net/forum/source/eureka-times-standard/T4HFJQM0L14OIQJKS
---------
The link goes to a Times-Standard Topix thread that began in response to the game story following St. Bernard's boys basketball win over Eureka High. It turned into a forum about the conduct of some Eureka High basketball players...on and off the court. One of the parents, apparently, got involved to defend his son. And, I can't blame the man, since his son is accused by anonymous sources of criminal activity.
Somebody involved in the conversation threw up a post asking for me to comment. I'm honored that somebody would think I might have something to add to a conversation that took on the most negative, vile tone of any I've read result from a sports story up there.
I don't think high school athletes are public figures. Just because Eureka High sports star Greg Allen is a sports star, and headed to play in college on scholarship, doesn't mean he's different from any other 17-year-old minor. There are all sorts of allegations and people swear, anonymously, that there was activity that the police responded to in some way or another.
Whether criminal activity took place or not, we agree to protect the identity of those under age 18 who are even accused of breaking the law. If a media outlet did opt to report on the allegation that a girl was physically abuse, no names would be used because the media protects the identities of minors.
The Topix comments are very specifically mentioning the athlete, and some of his teammates. I cited the libel laws in a brief post Wednesday because, honestly, if my son was being dragged through the mud in a Media News Group forum -- I'd file a lawsuit against Media News Group. It's not the Times-Standard's fault or the fault of Media News that the athlete's being called for criminal activity -- and various other transgressions I won't repeat here. But, we can't sue anonymous posters...so, the only way to address personal attacks in a public forum is by suing the folks responsible for providing the forum.
A poster, who remains anonymous, insists the allegations are true...that the father acknowledged there was an "incident." I don't care. The player's a minor. There are allegations that are a lot more pointed and vile than simply referring to an "incident." I think we need to stand up and try to change the course these public forums are taking before they become even more out of control.
Question the kid's jump shot...question his ability to play in college...question Eureka High's coach...that's fair and harmless and, actually, at the root of why sports fans enjoy sports. But, to drag an alleged incident involving a minor girl into the forum? And, then to read people trash the kid anonymously...with no avenue to get to the truth through actual reporting? That's unacceptable.
High school athletes didn't start making bad decisions at the dawn of the Internet age. Generations of athletes have gotten busted smoking dope or driving drunk or fighting in the parking lot ... and been dealt with by coaches and administrators without the public knowing anything about it.
I don't think the public has a right to know how Eureka High's coach, who I've always found to be a fine, honorable, upstanding man, dealt with problems within his team. It's not the public's right to know why players were kicked off a team in 2004 or why no players were kicked off in 2008.
I do feel like the public has the right to try to find out the answers to questions about the conduct of the players on or off the court. The public can call school administrators and ask them to explain why the athlete is still playing despite being involved an "incident" involving the police. Because...the coach and the administration are bound by laws that prevent them from treating high school students like public figures. If people really wanted to know what's been done to address what they see as problems...they can call Eureka High...have the folks there say they can't talk about such things...and...that's it.
What? Eureka High should suspend an athlete because of an alleged "incident" that apparently drew no criminal charges? How would that be fair?
Folks can call the police and ask about the "incident" and the police won't comment. The Times-Standard reporters could push to get answers and try to do a story -- but the story would have no substance. No one can comment on an "incident" allegedly involving two minors. It's not news for public consumption...even if making it a public affair embarrasses the star of the Eureka High basketball team and his family.
The general public in small towns across America has been trying to tear down well known high school athletes since high school athletics began. The Internet just allows the public an amazing easy way to simply trash people I consider kids.
This isn't the first incident involving a prominent Humboldt-Del Norte League sports star. It won't be the last. I hope it's the last time the court of public opinion puts a minor on trial in a public forum.
I was surprised that the athlete's father, apparently, got involved in defending his son in the Topix forum. Getting in the pit with the folks throwing mud and throwing it back didn't do anything but make things harder on the son. That's just my opinion, though, and I'd never presume to tell a dad how to protect his son.
It's unclear what people hope to gain from making such a big deal of the player's off-court actions...but, there's no story...nobody's done anything except follow the rules in allowing him to stay on the team, etc.
Just because a 17-year-old is a great athlete doesn't make him a public figure, nor does it remove from him the legal protection people his age are provided.
---------
The link goes to a Times-Standard Topix thread that began in response to the game story following St. Bernard's boys basketball win over Eureka High. It turned into a forum about the conduct of some Eureka High basketball players...on and off the court. One of the parents, apparently, got involved to defend his son. And, I can't blame the man, since his son is accused by anonymous sources of criminal activity.
Somebody involved in the conversation threw up a post asking for me to comment. I'm honored that somebody would think I might have something to add to a conversation that took on the most negative, vile tone of any I've read result from a sports story up there.
I don't think high school athletes are public figures. Just because Eureka High sports star Greg Allen is a sports star, and headed to play in college on scholarship, doesn't mean he's different from any other 17-year-old minor. There are all sorts of allegations and people swear, anonymously, that there was activity that the police responded to in some way or another.
Whether criminal activity took place or not, we agree to protect the identity of those under age 18 who are even accused of breaking the law. If a media outlet did opt to report on the allegation that a girl was physically abuse, no names would be used because the media protects the identities of minors.
The Topix comments are very specifically mentioning the athlete, and some of his teammates. I cited the libel laws in a brief post Wednesday because, honestly, if my son was being dragged through the mud in a Media News Group forum -- I'd file a lawsuit against Media News Group. It's not the Times-Standard's fault or the fault of Media News that the athlete's being called for criminal activity -- and various other transgressions I won't repeat here. But, we can't sue anonymous posters...so, the only way to address personal attacks in a public forum is by suing the folks responsible for providing the forum.
A poster, who remains anonymous, insists the allegations are true...that the father acknowledged there was an "incident." I don't care. The player's a minor. There are allegations that are a lot more pointed and vile than simply referring to an "incident." I think we need to stand up and try to change the course these public forums are taking before they become even more out of control.
Question the kid's jump shot...question his ability to play in college...question Eureka High's coach...that's fair and harmless and, actually, at the root of why sports fans enjoy sports. But, to drag an alleged incident involving a minor girl into the forum? And, then to read people trash the kid anonymously...with no avenue to get to the truth through actual reporting? That's unacceptable.
High school athletes didn't start making bad decisions at the dawn of the Internet age. Generations of athletes have gotten busted smoking dope or driving drunk or fighting in the parking lot ... and been dealt with by coaches and administrators without the public knowing anything about it.
I don't think the public has a right to know how Eureka High's coach, who I've always found to be a fine, honorable, upstanding man, dealt with problems within his team. It's not the public's right to know why players were kicked off a team in 2004 or why no players were kicked off in 2008.
I do feel like the public has the right to try to find out the answers to questions about the conduct of the players on or off the court. The public can call school administrators and ask them to explain why the athlete is still playing despite being involved an "incident" involving the police. Because...the coach and the administration are bound by laws that prevent them from treating high school students like public figures. If people really wanted to know what's been done to address what they see as problems...they can call Eureka High...have the folks there say they can't talk about such things...and...that's it.
What? Eureka High should suspend an athlete because of an alleged "incident" that apparently drew no criminal charges? How would that be fair?
Folks can call the police and ask about the "incident" and the police won't comment. The Times-Standard reporters could push to get answers and try to do a story -- but the story would have no substance. No one can comment on an "incident" allegedly involving two minors. It's not news for public consumption...even if making it a public affair embarrasses the star of the Eureka High basketball team and his family.
The general public in small towns across America has been trying to tear down well known high school athletes since high school athletics began. The Internet just allows the public an amazing easy way to simply trash people I consider kids.
This isn't the first incident involving a prominent Humboldt-Del Norte League sports star. It won't be the last. I hope it's the last time the court of public opinion puts a minor on trial in a public forum.
I was surprised that the athlete's father, apparently, got involved in defending his son in the Topix forum. Getting in the pit with the folks throwing mud and throwing it back didn't do anything but make things harder on the son. That's just my opinion, though, and I'd never presume to tell a dad how to protect his son.
It's unclear what people hope to gain from making such a big deal of the player's off-court actions...but, there's no story...nobody's done anything except follow the rules in allowing him to stay on the team, etc.
Just because a 17-year-old is a great athlete doesn't make him a public figure, nor does it remove from him the legal protection people his age are provided.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Every Team Needs Managers, Coaches...
I assume that Lou Bonomini remains as manager of the All-Time team. I'd be interested to read who you select as pitching coach and hitting coach? Also, what North Coast baseball field would this team call home?
January 13, 2009 10:54 PM
The home field for the All-Time North Coast baseball team would be the original Albee Stadium. It featured a beautiful redwood seating structure that was raised above the playing field. The setting, in that redwood tree-lined bowl, remains unmatched.
Like the original V.F.W. Field, now the Eureka Babe Ruth League field, old Albee Stadium had a ticket booth underneath the bleachers and ramp leading from there up to the seating area. The dugouts were actually dug out of the ground and players had to walk down steps to get from the field into them. My earliest memories of North Coast baseball include walking down into the 1965 Crabs' dugout to have the team autograph a baseball for me on Scholarship Night. I've still got the ball -- and Bob Bonomini's autograph.
The baseball diamond faced the Albee Stadium football field. The left field line ran parallel to the extreme edge of the outside lane of the old dirt track that used to circle the football field. In my youth, there was a portable, wood fence up during baseball season -- from foul line to foul line.
By the time I played at Albee Stadium, the bleachers were torn down, the snack bar was gone...it was just the playing field and the dugouts. They even stopped putting up the fence, so I played right field at Eureka High standing at the base of the slope leading up to the redwood trees. (Let's say I wasn't really interested in having to go back on a ball.) I once saw Mark Lucich hit a home run that hit halfway up into those redwood trees. Pitching at the decimated Albee was great, because a fast outfield enabled you to get an out on a ball hit 420 feet -- from home plate to the 30-yard line of the football field. I didn't see anybody hit a ball that landed in the existing football bleachers, but I did it once. (Well, twice, in the same game...there was no ground rule, so I had to run while the centerfielder tracked the ball bounced off the cement.) Since I did it, then I'm certain it was done countless times by guys who hit prodigious clouts that landed up in the football seats. It was a long drive from home plate to the football seating -- and it's gotten longer every year in my mind.
I fell out of love with the dump Albee became when I realized that a line drive single over the third baseman's head could be misplayed into a home run that hit the dirt track and rolled and rolled toward the football locker rooms. (Rick Mohorovich, who was the slowest guy I knew, hit that type of homer off me. He could've circled the bases twice.)
Albee's football stadium used to have cement bleachers on both sides of the football field. So, I used to marvel at the little portion of those cement bleachers that were razed. I wondered how cool it must've been to have filled a football stadium that big, you know? How cool must it have been to go to a baseball game with a a full football stadium beyond the outfield fence? Back in the day, I think Albee Stadium even had baseball locker rooms -- a clubhouse. All that was left in my day was an equipment shed.
The original V.F.W. Field was cool, too. It had underground dugouts, so players would stand and peer through an eye-level screen to watch the game. Best thing about it, I figured, was that the coaches couldn't really see or hear what was going on in the dugout...so, very little need for the fake chatter and lots of time to really enjoy yourself. I just didn't like the enormous dimensions at the V.F.W. Field. Although...in the wood bat days, even the right field fence seemed a fair distance away. (I saw Mark Lucich hit a ball off the smaller Redwood Acres pavillion beyond the right field fence once.) The center field fence was a mile away before they started storing those football bleachers out there and, honest, before the advent of metal bats -- it was a big deal to get one out in left field ... and just hitting that fence was considered an epic feat for a Babe Ruth League player.
I never was a fan of the Arcata Ball Park -- even when it had redwood bleachers and all the same accommodations old Albee Stadium had. I did like that the Crabs had vendors walking the stands selling hot dogs, peanuts, etc. Initially, I guess I didn't like that Arcata got the Crabs...later I played the infield at the Arcata Ball Park and didn't like that it was about the worst infield I'd ever seen. (Hey...35 years ago...I'm sure it's fine now!)
Actually, if I could rebuild the original Albee Stadium at the site of the Rohner Park baseball field in Fortuna -- that'd be home to my North Coast All-Time team. I used to really love that I'd leave Eureka stuck in the fog and get out of the car in Fortuna to see blue skies and sunshine.
Don Terbush once told me that there was a full baseball stadium on the huge plot of land where Carson Park has been for decades. I had special fondness for the Haney-Jacobs Eureka Midget League field -- before Haney got his name attached to George C. Jacobs Field. It was a miniature version of old Albee Stadium, so we felt pretty big league playing in what seemed like an actual stadium. (Thus, high praise to the Arcata Little League for building that Brizard Complex. It captured the history of baseball in the area with redwood bleachers, etc.)
Coincidentally, the baseball complex I most depised was the St. Bernard High School facility. My sons played there and really liked it because their coach Al Brisack maintained it like most people maintain their vegetable or flower garden. I didn't like that screen hanging over me when I hit...I felt claustrophobic. I didn't like the tiny green wooden bleachers pressed up against the backstop. And, when I pitched, I despised the overhang above the dish even more because a pop foul out was simply impossible to achieve.
While, I'm sure it was no issue to (and likely helped) legendary pitchers like Billy Olson and Greg Shanahan...the mountainous pitcher's mound at St. Bernard really bugged me. They throw over the top -- and were incredibly skilled pitchers. I had only marginal talent and threw three-quarters and sidearm...so that big mound didn't do me any good ... just threw me off my game...what little there was to it.
I need to think more about the manager and coaches...because, this is my all-time team so ... nothing's automatic.
The all-time team would have to play in the Albee Stadium with the redwood bleachers and the fence because
January 13, 2009 10:54 PM
The home field for the All-Time North Coast baseball team would be the original Albee Stadium. It featured a beautiful redwood seating structure that was raised above the playing field. The setting, in that redwood tree-lined bowl, remains unmatched.
Like the original V.F.W. Field, now the Eureka Babe Ruth League field, old Albee Stadium had a ticket booth underneath the bleachers and ramp leading from there up to the seating area. The dugouts were actually dug out of the ground and players had to walk down steps to get from the field into them. My earliest memories of North Coast baseball include walking down into the 1965 Crabs' dugout to have the team autograph a baseball for me on Scholarship Night. I've still got the ball -- and Bob Bonomini's autograph.
The baseball diamond faced the Albee Stadium football field. The left field line ran parallel to the extreme edge of the outside lane of the old dirt track that used to circle the football field. In my youth, there was a portable, wood fence up during baseball season -- from foul line to foul line.
By the time I played at Albee Stadium, the bleachers were torn down, the snack bar was gone...it was just the playing field and the dugouts. They even stopped putting up the fence, so I played right field at Eureka High standing at the base of the slope leading up to the redwood trees. (Let's say I wasn't really interested in having to go back on a ball.) I once saw Mark Lucich hit a home run that hit halfway up into those redwood trees. Pitching at the decimated Albee was great, because a fast outfield enabled you to get an out on a ball hit 420 feet -- from home plate to the 30-yard line of the football field. I didn't see anybody hit a ball that landed in the existing football bleachers, but I did it once. (Well, twice, in the same game...there was no ground rule, so I had to run while the centerfielder tracked the ball bounced off the cement.) Since I did it, then I'm certain it was done countless times by guys who hit prodigious clouts that landed up in the football seats. It was a long drive from home plate to the football seating -- and it's gotten longer every year in my mind.
I fell out of love with the dump Albee became when I realized that a line drive single over the third baseman's head could be misplayed into a home run that hit the dirt track and rolled and rolled toward the football locker rooms. (Rick Mohorovich, who was the slowest guy I knew, hit that type of homer off me. He could've circled the bases twice.)
Albee's football stadium used to have cement bleachers on both sides of the football field. So, I used to marvel at the little portion of those cement bleachers that were razed. I wondered how cool it must've been to have filled a football stadium that big, you know? How cool must it have been to go to a baseball game with a a full football stadium beyond the outfield fence? Back in the day, I think Albee Stadium even had baseball locker rooms -- a clubhouse. All that was left in my day was an equipment shed.
The original V.F.W. Field was cool, too. It had underground dugouts, so players would stand and peer through an eye-level screen to watch the game. Best thing about it, I figured, was that the coaches couldn't really see or hear what was going on in the dugout...so, very little need for the fake chatter and lots of time to really enjoy yourself. I just didn't like the enormous dimensions at the V.F.W. Field. Although...in the wood bat days, even the right field fence seemed a fair distance away. (I saw Mark Lucich hit a ball off the smaller Redwood Acres pavillion beyond the right field fence once.) The center field fence was a mile away before they started storing those football bleachers out there and, honest, before the advent of metal bats -- it was a big deal to get one out in left field ... and just hitting that fence was considered an epic feat for a Babe Ruth League player.
I never was a fan of the Arcata Ball Park -- even when it had redwood bleachers and all the same accommodations old Albee Stadium had. I did like that the Crabs had vendors walking the stands selling hot dogs, peanuts, etc. Initially, I guess I didn't like that Arcata got the Crabs...later I played the infield at the Arcata Ball Park and didn't like that it was about the worst infield I'd ever seen. (Hey...35 years ago...I'm sure it's fine now!)
Actually, if I could rebuild the original Albee Stadium at the site of the Rohner Park baseball field in Fortuna -- that'd be home to my North Coast All-Time team. I used to really love that I'd leave Eureka stuck in the fog and get out of the car in Fortuna to see blue skies and sunshine.
Don Terbush once told me that there was a full baseball stadium on the huge plot of land where Carson Park has been for decades. I had special fondness for the Haney-Jacobs Eureka Midget League field -- before Haney got his name attached to George C. Jacobs Field. It was a miniature version of old Albee Stadium, so we felt pretty big league playing in what seemed like an actual stadium. (Thus, high praise to the Arcata Little League for building that Brizard Complex. It captured the history of baseball in the area with redwood bleachers, etc.)
Coincidentally, the baseball complex I most depised was the St. Bernard High School facility. My sons played there and really liked it because their coach Al Brisack maintained it like most people maintain their vegetable or flower garden. I didn't like that screen hanging over me when I hit...I felt claustrophobic. I didn't like the tiny green wooden bleachers pressed up against the backstop. And, when I pitched, I despised the overhang above the dish even more because a pop foul out was simply impossible to achieve.
While, I'm sure it was no issue to (and likely helped) legendary pitchers like Billy Olson and Greg Shanahan...the mountainous pitcher's mound at St. Bernard really bugged me. They throw over the top -- and were incredibly skilled pitchers. I had only marginal talent and threw three-quarters and sidearm...so that big mound didn't do me any good ... just threw me off my game...what little there was to it.
I need to think more about the manager and coaches...because, this is my all-time team so ... nothing's automatic.
The all-time team would have to play in the Albee Stadium with the redwood bleachers and the fence because
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
When I Was a Runner, I Was In Heaven...
From my early 20s to my mid-30s, I was a seriously recreational runner. I ran to stay in shape and because I was convinced I'd die young from heart disease and felt like running might buy me an extra day or two.
It was so nice, living in Humboldt County and being able to run whenever and wherever I felt the urge. Here...in a city-type atmosphere...sheesh...I run on a treadmill and still catch myself looking or my shoulder and listening for gunfire.
One afternoon in the early spring, I went to pick up my wife at the first Coast Central Credit Union office ... down a couple blocks from the Carson Mansion. Before the arrival of computers, it was possible that a teller might be in the branch quite long after the doors closed trying to balance the money she'd taken in during the day. My wife, as I've mentioned, would've been a bank president in her life if not for the anchor known as Ted...but, there were times when she was a few cents off here or there. I was, as I am, impatient.
So, since I was wearing shorts and had my old running shoes on...I decided I'd leave her the car and run home. We lived about halfway up Humboldt Hill, on Purdue Drive, with a beautiful view of the old nuclear power plant at the time. That's a long run...and...to avoid what amounted to Eureka traffic then...it got longer zigging and zagging.
I had to get around Highway 101 through Bucksport, naturally, so ... I decided to run through cemetary. My mom and dad are both buried in Oceanview Cemetary, so I knew quite certainly that everyone buried out there stayed buried. There were no ghosts. I wouldn't suddenly see a hand covered with dirt blast out of the ground and grab me by my Asics.
Still...there's nothing at all good to be said about spending even time running through a cemetary. People are dying to get in there and all, but ... the minute I saw the masoleum...I got the creeps. I remembered all the time I spent running around out there while my mom sat by my dad's grave.
Creepy. I hauled ass and decided I'd never jog through a graveyard again.
One night after work, when I was a child reporter/photographer for the Times-Standard, I decided I'd go run in the hills behind Humboldt State. My old friend Neil Gilchrist introduced me to running, when he was in his late 30s and I was still an athletic 20 or so. He ran me ragged in those hills. I'd never run, let alone on hills in the forest. So...it became my goal to train secretly to run with and, eventually, run past a 38-year-old guy I felt was an old fart who had no business running at all.
So, I took off on what I thought was the same ass-kicking 2-mile run Neil had taken me on before. There was a sharp turn to get up above where the tennis courts used to be, then a winding jog past the lake below the Foresty building. And, then there was a path into the woods and a fork in the path...and after I ran up a hill and took a hard left...I was into the run and pacing myself and worrying that I wouldn't get back to the car before the drizzle turned into pouring rain.
There was a point in Neil's course where the options where to run up what he called "Killer Hill" -- a steep, steep upward slope -- or to turn left and head downhill back to campus. I never got to that point where a decision needed to be made. In fact, after about 30 minutes, I realized the only decision I needed to make involved figuring out where in the hell I was.
I was lost in the forest. It was pouring rain. It was getting dark. Being a kid who grew up near around the forest, I didn't necessarily need a path to run on...particularly in full panic over being lost. So...I stopped...and just listened for a sound...any sound...a car...a door slamming...it was hard to hear over the sound of my heart thumping.
After a second, I just started running through the ferns and shrubs and jumped logs figuring the forest would lead to civilization if I head to my right and slightly backward...only a 20-year-old could have such confidence in such an utterly stupid plan. I was lost. I didn't know what was to my right and at a 45 degree angle head what seemed like down a hill.
I got lucky. I popped out ... at the top of Fickle Hill. I didn't know where I was because all I knew of Fickle Hill is that...it was in Arcata and my mom used to mention Fickle Hill Road. So, I had to run around a bit to get some bearings and...by then it was pouring and almost dark.
I'd run 4 miles, easy, figuring I'd run no more than 2 1/2 or 3 since that terrain was still tough for a novice runner. And, the run ended with me soaking wet...running up that nasty hill that used to lead from the parking lot to the East Gym and the fieldhouse.
OK, so maybe every run wasn't heavenly...but, looking back when I'm on a treadmill now...they seem to have been.
It was so nice, living in Humboldt County and being able to run whenever and wherever I felt the urge. Here...in a city-type atmosphere...sheesh...I run on a treadmill and still catch myself looking or my shoulder and listening for gunfire.
One afternoon in the early spring, I went to pick up my wife at the first Coast Central Credit Union office ... down a couple blocks from the Carson Mansion. Before the arrival of computers, it was possible that a teller might be in the branch quite long after the doors closed trying to balance the money she'd taken in during the day. My wife, as I've mentioned, would've been a bank president in her life if not for the anchor known as Ted...but, there were times when she was a few cents off here or there. I was, as I am, impatient.
So, since I was wearing shorts and had my old running shoes on...I decided I'd leave her the car and run home. We lived about halfway up Humboldt Hill, on Purdue Drive, with a beautiful view of the old nuclear power plant at the time. That's a long run...and...to avoid what amounted to Eureka traffic then...it got longer zigging and zagging.
I had to get around Highway 101 through Bucksport, naturally, so ... I decided to run through cemetary. My mom and dad are both buried in Oceanview Cemetary, so I knew quite certainly that everyone buried out there stayed buried. There were no ghosts. I wouldn't suddenly see a hand covered with dirt blast out of the ground and grab me by my Asics.
Still...there's nothing at all good to be said about spending even time running through a cemetary. People are dying to get in there and all, but ... the minute I saw the masoleum...I got the creeps. I remembered all the time I spent running around out there while my mom sat by my dad's grave.
Creepy. I hauled ass and decided I'd never jog through a graveyard again.
One night after work, when I was a child reporter/photographer for the Times-Standard, I decided I'd go run in the hills behind Humboldt State. My old friend Neil Gilchrist introduced me to running, when he was in his late 30s and I was still an athletic 20 or so. He ran me ragged in those hills. I'd never run, let alone on hills in the forest. So...it became my goal to train secretly to run with and, eventually, run past a 38-year-old guy I felt was an old fart who had no business running at all.
So, I took off on what I thought was the same ass-kicking 2-mile run Neil had taken me on before. There was a sharp turn to get up above where the tennis courts used to be, then a winding jog past the lake below the Foresty building. And, then there was a path into the woods and a fork in the path...and after I ran up a hill and took a hard left...I was into the run and pacing myself and worrying that I wouldn't get back to the car before the drizzle turned into pouring rain.
There was a point in Neil's course where the options where to run up what he called "Killer Hill" -- a steep, steep upward slope -- or to turn left and head downhill back to campus. I never got to that point where a decision needed to be made. In fact, after about 30 minutes, I realized the only decision I needed to make involved figuring out where in the hell I was.
I was lost in the forest. It was pouring rain. It was getting dark. Being a kid who grew up near around the forest, I didn't necessarily need a path to run on...particularly in full panic over being lost. So...I stopped...and just listened for a sound...any sound...a car...a door slamming...it was hard to hear over the sound of my heart thumping.
After a second, I just started running through the ferns and shrubs and jumped logs figuring the forest would lead to civilization if I head to my right and slightly backward...only a 20-year-old could have such confidence in such an utterly stupid plan. I was lost. I didn't know what was to my right and at a 45 degree angle head what seemed like down a hill.
I got lucky. I popped out ... at the top of Fickle Hill. I didn't know where I was because all I knew of Fickle Hill is that...it was in Arcata and my mom used to mention Fickle Hill Road. So, I had to run around a bit to get some bearings and...by then it was pouring and almost dark.
I'd run 4 miles, easy, figuring I'd run no more than 2 1/2 or 3 since that terrain was still tough for a novice runner. And, the run ended with me soaking wet...running up that nasty hill that used to lead from the parking lot to the East Gym and the fieldhouse.
OK, so maybe every run wasn't heavenly...but, looking back when I'm on a treadmill now...they seem to have been.
Monday, January 12, 2009
If People Only Knew: My Kids
My daughter, the basketball player, is starring as Rizzo this week in a youth production of "Grease" at the Vacaville Performing Arts Center. She'll walk the stage where such entertainment luminaries as Tony Orlando and the New Riders of the Purple Sage once performed.
She's actually a performer who, as mentioned previously, woke one day and decided to play basketball. She made the K.I. Jones Elementary squad today, attended her first practice...then split to head for a 4-hour rehearsal for "Grease." There are 4-hour rehearsals every night this week.
The stuff they put the kid performers through is rigorous. When cheerleaders started putting in that much effort, their parents started insisting cheerleading be considered a sport...and I laughed out loud. So, given that she had a 2-hour hoop practice and a 4-hour rehearsal, my daughter's at home with six of those Salonpas heat patches on various parts of her body.
We get a kick out of using Salonpas for sore muscles because a lot of people pronounce Sillanpaa "Salonpas." I don't know how much good they'll do for my 10-year-old daughter.
I'm thinking of how much hell I caught on the North Coast for what a guy who ripped me not long ago called "ranting" about my kids. If my 10-year-old daughter was doing all this stuff up there...her name would be in the newspaper for basketball results at some point and, eventually, for her appearance in a play. And, her effort and whatever talent she's developed on her would be diminished or, worse, completely dismissed by people who'd say she's only getting attention because her dad works for the newspaper.
It's funny, now, because I work for a newspaper in Napa and she plays ball in Fairfield ... and performs for a theater company located in Vacaville.
A local newspaper sent a writer over to interview some kids about the upcoming "Grease" performances. The woman who runs the theater company picks the youngsters she feels best represent the company so...she picked three eighth graders and my 10-year-old daughter. It'll be the third time she'll have been pictured or quoted in a newspaper story in the last few years.
It's such a relief for me to know she'll never have some parent, who'd probably be jealous or just bitter, lace her up for getting more attention than some other children. It's an equal relief knowing ... nobody would even think to dismiss her achievements because of her old man.
I got to thinking about the media attention when her mom called to tell me that the theater director picked the kids who she felt would give the best interviews. It's not as though little kids are automatically able to answer in complete sentences or explain the plot.
When my older kids were in school, the shit hit the fan whenever they got mentioned in the newspaper because I worked at the newspaper. Nobody ever stepped back and noticed that KIEM and KVIQ TV guys used to interview them all the time, after games and at practices. Like their little sister, my older sons were just good at giving interviews -- at answering in complete sentences that made for sound bites before we really knew what sound bites were. But...when they got attention in the newspaper...it was me "ranting" about my kids. Mark Dempske, who's on TV sports anchor in Sacramento now, interviewed my kids for TV quite often -- and he and I barely got along.
Ah, old times...best put in the rear view mirror. But, not before I point out that there are some things about the North Coast that I don't miss.
She's actually a performer who, as mentioned previously, woke one day and decided to play basketball. She made the K.I. Jones Elementary squad today, attended her first practice...then split to head for a 4-hour rehearsal for "Grease." There are 4-hour rehearsals every night this week.
The stuff they put the kid performers through is rigorous. When cheerleaders started putting in that much effort, their parents started insisting cheerleading be considered a sport...and I laughed out loud. So, given that she had a 2-hour hoop practice and a 4-hour rehearsal, my daughter's at home with six of those Salonpas heat patches on various parts of her body.
We get a kick out of using Salonpas for sore muscles because a lot of people pronounce Sillanpaa "Salonpas." I don't know how much good they'll do for my 10-year-old daughter.
I'm thinking of how much hell I caught on the North Coast for what a guy who ripped me not long ago called "ranting" about my kids. If my 10-year-old daughter was doing all this stuff up there...her name would be in the newspaper for basketball results at some point and, eventually, for her appearance in a play. And, her effort and whatever talent she's developed on her would be diminished or, worse, completely dismissed by people who'd say she's only getting attention because her dad works for the newspaper.
It's funny, now, because I work for a newspaper in Napa and she plays ball in Fairfield ... and performs for a theater company located in Vacaville.
A local newspaper sent a writer over to interview some kids about the upcoming "Grease" performances. The woman who runs the theater company picks the youngsters she feels best represent the company so...she picked three eighth graders and my 10-year-old daughter. It'll be the third time she'll have been pictured or quoted in a newspaper story in the last few years.
It's such a relief for me to know she'll never have some parent, who'd probably be jealous or just bitter, lace her up for getting more attention than some other children. It's an equal relief knowing ... nobody would even think to dismiss her achievements because of her old man.
I got to thinking about the media attention when her mom called to tell me that the theater director picked the kids who she felt would give the best interviews. It's not as though little kids are automatically able to answer in complete sentences or explain the plot.
When my older kids were in school, the shit hit the fan whenever they got mentioned in the newspaper because I worked at the newspaper. Nobody ever stepped back and noticed that KIEM and KVIQ TV guys used to interview them all the time, after games and at practices. Like their little sister, my older sons were just good at giving interviews -- at answering in complete sentences that made for sound bites before we really knew what sound bites were. But...when they got attention in the newspaper...it was me "ranting" about my kids. Mark Dempske, who's on TV sports anchor in Sacramento now, interviewed my kids for TV quite often -- and he and I barely got along.
Ah, old times...best put in the rear view mirror. But, not before I point out that there are some things about the North Coast that I don't miss.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
All-Time Baseball Thoughts & Moves
Not that there's an outpouring from North Coast baseball fans to actually piece together and complete my personal all-time baseball team, but I have been thinking about it and settled on a lineup...
1b...Mark Lucich...He harkens back to the days when small-town kids had heroes playing high school ball in the same town. In the early 1970s, everybody I knew admired Mark Lucich and wanted a brother like Gary Lucich.
Tad Sundquist's spot on the all-time team is jeopardized by the memory of how pissed he would get after making an out. God forbid he would strike out and then I'd have to take an infield spot and pick up groundballs he threw between innings. I doubt he even knew he was rocketing us wicked grounders to vent his frustration, but I do recall in Midget League and beyond intentionally bouncing throws back at him in the dirt to alert him that, "Let's make easy on each other, OK?"
2b...Bob Bonomini...If I mimicked his batting stance and he later coached my nephew and my oldest son...Bons is not only a starter, he's a North Coast Sillanpaa Hall of Famer -- first ballot.
SS...Garth Iorg...Hustle and work ethic are talents that he had in buckets. The fact that he was athletic by nature was icing on the cake. (You know he played basketball at CR between minor league seasons, right?)
3B...Scott Eskra...there's not a great deal of difference, I don't think, between Scott and Eureka High grad David Stone from the class of about 1977 who went on to play in the Mets farm system. I'd take either one at third base and enjoy watching them rake. I just thought Eskra ran a little better and that Stone, because he was on teams that had catchers and needed a third baseman, had to play out of position locally.
LF: Dane Iorg, Arcata...He's a Sillanpaa Hall of Fame first ballot guy, too. I have a soft spot for Arcata's Steve Van Deren, though, who was a catcher-outfielder for Garth Iorg's Arcata teams as well at CR. Van Deren spent time in the minor leagues. He had all the tools...all the tools.
CF: Paul Ziegler, Fortuna...With the exception of Lee Iorg, I can't think of anybody close to Ziegler.
Greg Lorenzetti, another Fortuna alum, starred at Stanford, for the Crabs and in the minor leagues...he'll be on the final team...assuming readers pay attention long enough for me to finish the team.
RF: ... Buster Pidgeon...If push came to shove, forget the position...I'd bump some guys way before giving any thought to a lineup without him in it.
C: ... John Jaso...a McKinleyville High star whose rise to the big leagues is indicative of the quality program Dustin Dutra has built over the years. A lefthanded hitter...strong arm...ran well. I didn't see the guys from the 1940s, so how can I rate them? Jaso's the first 21st century pick.
DH: David Stone and Nick Giacone...Stone and Giacone could play positions, and would if the team was real. But, if you could go with Stone's booming righty bat and Giacone's lefty bat...that's a potent DH combo. Then, you platoon Giacone at first base and Stone at third and behind the plate.
SP: Billy Olson, Eureka High...my oldest son met a guy in Lafayette the other night who coached a winter ball team that Olson and Buster Pidgeon would drive south to play on during the off-season. Small world.
SP St. Bernard's Greg Shanahan was the righty contemporary of Olson's. And...he pitched briefly for the LA Dodgers in a time when he would've cracked the pitching staff of almost any other team in the big leagues. The Dodgers were loaded with pitchers.
SP: Randy Niemann...Fortuna's best pitching product, ever. Again...here's a guy parents and coaches could've learned from because he wasn't all-world at 10, 11, 12, 15, etc. He got bigger and stronger and worked on his game. He had the mentality needed to work patiently to transition from a kid power pitcher to a minor league control artist. He doesn't get the respect he deserves, and gets overlooked, because he pitched for the Southern Humboldt summer team and not for the Humboldt Eagles -- although I think he beat the Eagles when he faced them in the lone S. Humboldt v. Eagles series I can recall. No coach up there can take credit for Niemann...so, I guess, I'm the only one to recall his greatness.
1b...Mark Lucich...He harkens back to the days when small-town kids had heroes playing high school ball in the same town. In the early 1970s, everybody I knew admired Mark Lucich and wanted a brother like Gary Lucich.
Tad Sundquist's spot on the all-time team is jeopardized by the memory of how pissed he would get after making an out. God forbid he would strike out and then I'd have to take an infield spot and pick up groundballs he threw between innings. I doubt he even knew he was rocketing us wicked grounders to vent his frustration, but I do recall in Midget League and beyond intentionally bouncing throws back at him in the dirt to alert him that, "Let's make easy on each other, OK?"
2b...Bob Bonomini...If I mimicked his batting stance and he later coached my nephew and my oldest son...Bons is not only a starter, he's a North Coast Sillanpaa Hall of Famer -- first ballot.
SS...Garth Iorg...Hustle and work ethic are talents that he had in buckets. The fact that he was athletic by nature was icing on the cake. (You know he played basketball at CR between minor league seasons, right?)
3B...Scott Eskra...there's not a great deal of difference, I don't think, between Scott and Eureka High grad David Stone from the class of about 1977 who went on to play in the Mets farm system. I'd take either one at third base and enjoy watching them rake. I just thought Eskra ran a little better and that Stone, because he was on teams that had catchers and needed a third baseman, had to play out of position locally.
LF: Dane Iorg, Arcata...He's a Sillanpaa Hall of Fame first ballot guy, too. I have a soft spot for Arcata's Steve Van Deren, though, who was a catcher-outfielder for Garth Iorg's Arcata teams as well at CR. Van Deren spent time in the minor leagues. He had all the tools...all the tools.
CF: Paul Ziegler, Fortuna...With the exception of Lee Iorg, I can't think of anybody close to Ziegler.
Greg Lorenzetti, another Fortuna alum, starred at Stanford, for the Crabs and in the minor leagues...he'll be on the final team...assuming readers pay attention long enough for me to finish the team.
RF: ... Buster Pidgeon...If push came to shove, forget the position...I'd bump some guys way before giving any thought to a lineup without him in it.
C: ... John Jaso...a McKinleyville High star whose rise to the big leagues is indicative of the quality program Dustin Dutra has built over the years. A lefthanded hitter...strong arm...ran well. I didn't see the guys from the 1940s, so how can I rate them? Jaso's the first 21st century pick.
DH: David Stone and Nick Giacone...Stone and Giacone could play positions, and would if the team was real. But, if you could go with Stone's booming righty bat and Giacone's lefty bat...that's a potent DH combo. Then, you platoon Giacone at first base and Stone at third and behind the plate.
SP: Billy Olson, Eureka High...my oldest son met a guy in Lafayette the other night who coached a winter ball team that Olson and Buster Pidgeon would drive south to play on during the off-season. Small world.
SP St. Bernard's Greg Shanahan was the righty contemporary of Olson's. And...he pitched briefly for the LA Dodgers in a time when he would've cracked the pitching staff of almost any other team in the big leagues. The Dodgers were loaded with pitchers.
SP: Randy Niemann...Fortuna's best pitching product, ever. Again...here's a guy parents and coaches could've learned from because he wasn't all-world at 10, 11, 12, 15, etc. He got bigger and stronger and worked on his game. He had the mentality needed to work patiently to transition from a kid power pitcher to a minor league control artist. He doesn't get the respect he deserves, and gets overlooked, because he pitched for the Southern Humboldt summer team and not for the Humboldt Eagles -- although I think he beat the Eagles when he faced them in the lone S. Humboldt v. Eagles series I can recall. No coach up there can take credit for Niemann...so, I guess, I'm the only one to recall his greatness.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Sports Dad: "Crowning Achievement"
My 10-year-old daughter hasn't really any interest in athletics, so it was with great surprise that I watched her spin in circles worrying about missing her elementary school's basketball tryouts the other day.
She's busy...active...and she never seems to get tired. I thought that her angst over Thursday's first basketball tryout for fifth- and sixth-grade girls was the result of her having to make an appearance as vice-president of the student body. She was just beside herself trying to figure out how to work a 4:30 p.m. vocal lesson, a 5:30 rehearsal for "Grease" and the 3 p.m. hoop tryouts.
"What are you talking about? Why would you care if the tryouts are at the same time as your rehearsals?"
I'm rarely the dad who has absolutely no idea what's going on, but that day she lost me.
"I can't tryout for the team unless I skip the vocal lesson or something?" she said as, suddenly, my head began to spin and I felt like she could've floored me with a feather.
"You want to go to the tryouts and... TRY OUT? You want to play basketball? What kind of team is it if you ... I mean, you want to TRY OUT?!?!"
She's never been on an organized basketball team. I've had her shoot baskets with me at the gym a few times -- and four or five times in the last month. I'm interested in seeing how a young girl's hand-eye coordination changes without her paying any real attention to it, so we shoot and I think of creative reasons to get her to dribble. I've gently broached the idea of teaching her a little basketball because I've got this idea that kids can pick up a sport at 10 or 11 and be every bit as good as the kids who play on their first mini-hoops team at age 5.
I thought she was shooting baskets to amuse me, but there she was trying to squeeze basketball tryouts in her truly busy schedule. And, I bit my tounge when I started to belch, "What kind of team do you think YOU could play on? C'mon! Be serious!"
See, people told me that the bulk of a young girl's self esteem comes from her family and, particularly, from her dad. So, I've never missed a chance to tell my daughter that she's the cutest, smartest, funniest, most talented girl around. And, while I didn't really give it much thought, I did tell her that she had a nice little shot and that she dribbled sufficiently well that she could probably be a pretty decent basketball player if she took the game seriously.
I made the latter comment on Sunday Jan. 4. She came home fritzed out about trying out for the basketball team on Wednesday Jan. 7. She must listen really closely and take what I say to heart. She couldn't be taking it seriously, but she clearly thinks she IS a good enough player to make a team of girls her age.
We figured it out, rearranged schedules and the Sillanpaa Family Sports Machine kicked into gear. I called her three or four times from work with little pieces of information I thought she should know such as, "You can't dribble...stop...and then dribble again" and "You know you can't run with the ball, right?" She really doesn't know anything about the game that she hadn't heard me tell her brother.
Ah, her 13-year-old brother, who had basketball tryouts of his own going on in seventh grade was on the case. He offered to take her to the gym to shoot around and "coach" her. More surprisingly, she was willing to let him "coach" her. They get along really, really well...but, they don't generally bond over sports. She needed a ride to the gym at 7:30 at night and talked my oldest son into making the trip...still soaking wet in the clothes he'd worn running a baseball practice in the rain.
"I wasn't going to tell her I was too tired," Tyren said. "We've all wondered if she'd ever be interested in sports and...she is...so, I drove her."
He also stayed and joined his little brother in an hour-long session where they took turns thinking of tidbits of information to share with my daughter. Before they left, she peppered them with the tougher questions like, "What's a layup?" and "Where's the free throw spot?"
I have this long-held theory that kids who dress like players attract attention, they stand out, at any tryouts. I once selected Kristin Vandermolen No. 1 in the Eureka Hoopsters draft because she had expensive basketball shoes. I figured any 11-year-old girl with expensive shoes was serious about the game. So, I paid her a little extra attention and...she was a really good player.
It helps kids who aren't really good players to dress like good players. At some point, you have to show some skill, obviously. Still, in a gym filled with kids about the same size with about the same skill level...it pays to get in the front of every line, run whenever the coach calls for you and, moreover, dress like you're just coming back from the Nike/AndOne Scouting Combine.
So, my daughter...who hasn't been on a basketball team got together with her brothers and they coordinated a bitchin' basketball practice outfit. Under Armour beneath an Oregon basketball jersey...white/pink Starbury basketball shoes (those low-cost shoes NBA player Stephon Marbury markets), and some school's official basktball shorts. None of the stuff looked brand new so...when she showed up for tryouts with her hair in a ponytail like WNBA star Sue Bird wears, she looked like an experienced baller.
There are two simply amazing girls on that team of fifth- and sixth-graders. They're going to be high school stars. They are ... amazing talents, they can do it all. Then, there are two girls who can play some -- who wore street clothes to tryouts. After that, the 13-player was filled with my daughter and eight other girls with no really noticeable basketball skill.
All that my daughter has ever done is dribble in a straight line...pass the ball...shoot from maybe 8 feet out...and played a minimum amount of defense, usually while laughing at her brother.
Guess who somehow finished up two days of tryouts on top of the K.I. Jones Elementary School basketball world?
My daughter didn't do anything of note. She took my advice and shot her layups (that she'd learned the night before) without looking back to see if she'd made it. She didn't try to go 100 mph, but rather...controlled her body to minimize the small problem of having no real ballhandling skills. And, apparently, she made a couple shots ... at some point in the 90-minute session. Oh, and she was dressed like Sue Bird's little sister on her way to the Diana Taurasi Basketball Camp.
After Friday's tryouts, when it was announced that only eight of the 13 girls would make the squad, I talked to the coach. There was nothing I could say to help my daughter, but I did introduce myself and mention her name and my youngest son's name. The woman is an honor class teacher and she adored my son. It's a political game within a game, this business of making the team. I just told her I was happy Kyndall gave it shot and, the coach interrupted to say, "She's terrific! She's a starter as of now!"
So...my hunch paid off. My theory, if applied by a group of people who understand it, works. She learned the bare minimum about the game and hustled and smiled and listened -- made it clear she was having a blast playing ball. The basketball practice outfit, a bunch of stuff her brothers had worn over time, sold her as a real basketball player.
Amazing.
"If she makes that basketball team, it will be the crowning achievement of your life as a sports dad," my son Tyren said. "She hasn't even played before."
Well...I think those Starbury's dazzled 'em!
My guess has always been that dressing like a player attracts attention. When the coach looks at a kid in jeans making a mistake, they write the kid off as a non-player. My daughter made the same mistake, but got the benefit of the doubt because...she had to be a serious player, right, look at how she was dressed! And, when she made a couple shots, an achievement I can't fathom still, that sealed the deal...she wasn't just going to be the smallest, youngest kid on the team...she'd somehow joined those two eventual all-America girls as clear starters.
How we approach her continuing education as a player now so that she doesn't embarrass herself on the court is in question. Oddly, she's the most receptive of my kids to instruction so..who knows? If she listens, learns quickly and remains confident that she can do anything she sets her mind to...maybe she'll even play like "a starter."
She's busy...active...and she never seems to get tired. I thought that her angst over Thursday's first basketball tryout for fifth- and sixth-grade girls was the result of her having to make an appearance as vice-president of the student body. She was just beside herself trying to figure out how to work a 4:30 p.m. vocal lesson, a 5:30 rehearsal for "Grease" and the 3 p.m. hoop tryouts.
"What are you talking about? Why would you care if the tryouts are at the same time as your rehearsals?"
I'm rarely the dad who has absolutely no idea what's going on, but that day she lost me.
"I can't tryout for the team unless I skip the vocal lesson or something?" she said as, suddenly, my head began to spin and I felt like she could've floored me with a feather.
"You want to go to the tryouts and... TRY OUT? You want to play basketball? What kind of team is it if you ... I mean, you want to TRY OUT?!?!"
She's never been on an organized basketball team. I've had her shoot baskets with me at the gym a few times -- and four or five times in the last month. I'm interested in seeing how a young girl's hand-eye coordination changes without her paying any real attention to it, so we shoot and I think of creative reasons to get her to dribble. I've gently broached the idea of teaching her a little basketball because I've got this idea that kids can pick up a sport at 10 or 11 and be every bit as good as the kids who play on their first mini-hoops team at age 5.
I thought she was shooting baskets to amuse me, but there she was trying to squeeze basketball tryouts in her truly busy schedule. And, I bit my tounge when I started to belch, "What kind of team do you think YOU could play on? C'mon! Be serious!"
See, people told me that the bulk of a young girl's self esteem comes from her family and, particularly, from her dad. So, I've never missed a chance to tell my daughter that she's the cutest, smartest, funniest, most talented girl around. And, while I didn't really give it much thought, I did tell her that she had a nice little shot and that she dribbled sufficiently well that she could probably be a pretty decent basketball player if she took the game seriously.
I made the latter comment on Sunday Jan. 4. She came home fritzed out about trying out for the basketball team on Wednesday Jan. 7. She must listen really closely and take what I say to heart. She couldn't be taking it seriously, but she clearly thinks she IS a good enough player to make a team of girls her age.
We figured it out, rearranged schedules and the Sillanpaa Family Sports Machine kicked into gear. I called her three or four times from work with little pieces of information I thought she should know such as, "You can't dribble...stop...and then dribble again" and "You know you can't run with the ball, right?" She really doesn't know anything about the game that she hadn't heard me tell her brother.
Ah, her 13-year-old brother, who had basketball tryouts of his own going on in seventh grade was on the case. He offered to take her to the gym to shoot around and "coach" her. More surprisingly, she was willing to let him "coach" her. They get along really, really well...but, they don't generally bond over sports. She needed a ride to the gym at 7:30 at night and talked my oldest son into making the trip...still soaking wet in the clothes he'd worn running a baseball practice in the rain.
"I wasn't going to tell her I was too tired," Tyren said. "We've all wondered if she'd ever be interested in sports and...she is...so, I drove her."
He also stayed and joined his little brother in an hour-long session where they took turns thinking of tidbits of information to share with my daughter. Before they left, she peppered them with the tougher questions like, "What's a layup?" and "Where's the free throw spot?"
I have this long-held theory that kids who dress like players attract attention, they stand out, at any tryouts. I once selected Kristin Vandermolen No. 1 in the Eureka Hoopsters draft because she had expensive basketball shoes. I figured any 11-year-old girl with expensive shoes was serious about the game. So, I paid her a little extra attention and...she was a really good player.
It helps kids who aren't really good players to dress like good players. At some point, you have to show some skill, obviously. Still, in a gym filled with kids about the same size with about the same skill level...it pays to get in the front of every line, run whenever the coach calls for you and, moreover, dress like you're just coming back from the Nike/AndOne Scouting Combine.
So, my daughter...who hasn't been on a basketball team got together with her brothers and they coordinated a bitchin' basketball practice outfit. Under Armour beneath an Oregon basketball jersey...white/pink Starbury basketball shoes (those low-cost shoes NBA player Stephon Marbury markets), and some school's official basktball shorts. None of the stuff looked brand new so...when she showed up for tryouts with her hair in a ponytail like WNBA star Sue Bird wears, she looked like an experienced baller.
There are two simply amazing girls on that team of fifth- and sixth-graders. They're going to be high school stars. They are ... amazing talents, they can do it all. Then, there are two girls who can play some -- who wore street clothes to tryouts. After that, the 13-player was filled with my daughter and eight other girls with no really noticeable basketball skill.
All that my daughter has ever done is dribble in a straight line...pass the ball...shoot from maybe 8 feet out...and played a minimum amount of defense, usually while laughing at her brother.
Guess who somehow finished up two days of tryouts on top of the K.I. Jones Elementary School basketball world?
My daughter didn't do anything of note. She took my advice and shot her layups (that she'd learned the night before) without looking back to see if she'd made it. She didn't try to go 100 mph, but rather...controlled her body to minimize the small problem of having no real ballhandling skills. And, apparently, she made a couple shots ... at some point in the 90-minute session. Oh, and she was dressed like Sue Bird's little sister on her way to the Diana Taurasi Basketball Camp.
After Friday's tryouts, when it was announced that only eight of the 13 girls would make the squad, I talked to the coach. There was nothing I could say to help my daughter, but I did introduce myself and mention her name and my youngest son's name. The woman is an honor class teacher and she adored my son. It's a political game within a game, this business of making the team. I just told her I was happy Kyndall gave it shot and, the coach interrupted to say, "She's terrific! She's a starter as of now!"
So...my hunch paid off. My theory, if applied by a group of people who understand it, works. She learned the bare minimum about the game and hustled and smiled and listened -- made it clear she was having a blast playing ball. The basketball practice outfit, a bunch of stuff her brothers had worn over time, sold her as a real basketball player.
Amazing.
"If she makes that basketball team, it will be the crowning achievement of your life as a sports dad," my son Tyren said. "She hasn't even played before."
Well...I think those Starbury's dazzled 'em!
My guess has always been that dressing like a player attracts attention. When the coach looks at a kid in jeans making a mistake, they write the kid off as a non-player. My daughter made the same mistake, but got the benefit of the doubt because...she had to be a serious player, right, look at how she was dressed! And, when she made a couple shots, an achievement I can't fathom still, that sealed the deal...she wasn't just going to be the smallest, youngest kid on the team...she'd somehow joined those two eventual all-America girls as clear starters.
How we approach her continuing education as a player now so that she doesn't embarrass herself on the court is in question. Oddly, she's the most receptive of my kids to instruction so..who knows? If she listens, learns quickly and remains confident that she can do anything she sets her mind to...maybe she'll even play like "a starter."
Thursday, January 8, 2009
BART Shooting Victim Unlikely an Innocent
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nXWSgG-KNng&feature=related
The link will take you video of a Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) system police officer shooting and killing a 22-year-old man in an arrest that went terribly wrong.
You'll see, or have seen, two officers trying to subdue one last man who had been involved in a brawl at a BART station around 2 a.m. on New Year's Day.
Here's how the San Francisco Chronicle described the shooting in its Jan. 2 edition:
Jill Tucker, Kelly Zito,Heather Knight, Chronicle Staff Writers
(01-01) 18:41 PST -- A young man allegedly involved in a fight aboard a BART train was shot to death by a BART police officer on the platform of the Fruitvale Station early New Year's Day, in the midst of a brawl between two groups of young train passengers.
Watch the video, just pay attention the young guy laying on the ground and the officer who pulls out a gun and then pulls the trigger -- shooting the guy in the back. The obvious reaction is one of horror because as the officer's pulling his weapon, another officer has the victim on the ground with his knee on the back of the victim's neck.
The first three or four times I saw it, I agreed with people who were outraged by such an outlandish and unnecessary display of force by a policeman. Then, I paid more attention to the surroundings...the other men who were already subdued and handcuffed...the sounds of the, likely, hundreds of BART passengers who stumbled into the middle of a war betwen "two groups of young train passengers." And, before I had to hear the victim's mom explain how he was turning his life around and how he would never see his 4-year-old daughter again...I suddenly became a caustic, cynical, old man.
"Two groups of young train passengers," judging solely by the looks of the fellows who officers had arrested, translates into "two gangs." They might not be Crips and Bloods, but they were two groups of guys running together and had a major beef -- in a very public place -- which each other.
There was no reason to even pull a weapon with the guy on the ground. It's a tragedy that the young man was killed. His family, I'm sure, will win a case and get civil damages from BART to help raise the man's daughter. The officer was wrong. He'll lose his job. BART will probably start doing more than advertising for police officers in BART stations, probably put their officers through more training.
I feel no pity for "young train passengers" who chose to put themselves at risk. I'm absolutely safe from even the worst BART or city police officer because...I don't brawl in a BART station at 2 a.m. and if an officer ever needed to talk to me about anything -- I'd do whatever he asked of me whenever he asked. I'd make it really easy for them. They wouldn't even have to put their knee on the back of my neck.
It's outlandish to imagine that the victim and his other "young train passengers" are even close to innocents. They chose to put hundreds of innocent citizens at risk by brawling in a a public place. If the BART officers hadn't tried to subdue the brawling groups, it could've actually been an innocent bystander who took a bullet.
So, the officers mishandled the situation. It's sad that the man lost his life. But...he chose to put himself in a risky, dangerous situation. The video makes the young "passengers" look like what most people I know consider to be common street thugs. In spite of the sadness I feel for his death and his family's loss (even street guys have loved ones), part of me feels like the BART stations might be a little more safe now. The streets are free of one less "passenger" who thinks it's OK to throw down, throw punches and, maybe, pull a weapon...any damn place he pleases.
There are thousands of people protesting in the Bay Area. Not one protestor will state the obvious, however. You won't hear anyone say, "Well, OK...if they hadn't been fighting in a BART station at 2 a.m., this never would've happened."
At some point, I'm sure, we'll learn of the victim's history. We might learn he was leader of an inner-city Boy Scout troop, who knows? What do you think we'll find out?
If one of my kids or a friend said, "Hey...we're rollin' on BART on New Year's EVE...me and my boys..." I'd say, "That's a risky proposition. Be very careful."
Ultimately, policemen make mistakes. There are bad policemen. I don't know anybody who has ever had an altercation with a police officer. Why? Well, I don't know anybody who puts themselves in situations where policemen have to intervene.
Sadly, the shooting seems like an example of when bad things happen to apparently bad people. The victim might not have been the baddest dude at that BART station...but he took a bullet for whomever were the baddest dudes.
Don't cause trouble and trouble will rarely find you.
The link will take you video of a Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) system police officer shooting and killing a 22-year-old man in an arrest that went terribly wrong.
You'll see, or have seen, two officers trying to subdue one last man who had been involved in a brawl at a BART station around 2 a.m. on New Year's Day.
Here's how the San Francisco Chronicle described the shooting in its Jan. 2 edition:
Jill Tucker, Kelly Zito,Heather Knight, Chronicle Staff Writers
(01-01) 18:41 PST -- A young man allegedly involved in a fight aboard a BART train was shot to death by a BART police officer on the platform of the Fruitvale Station early New Year's Day, in the midst of a brawl between two groups of young train passengers.
Watch the video, just pay attention the young guy laying on the ground and the officer who pulls out a gun and then pulls the trigger -- shooting the guy in the back. The obvious reaction is one of horror because as the officer's pulling his weapon, another officer has the victim on the ground with his knee on the back of the victim's neck.
The first three or four times I saw it, I agreed with people who were outraged by such an outlandish and unnecessary display of force by a policeman. Then, I paid more attention to the surroundings...the other men who were already subdued and handcuffed...the sounds of the, likely, hundreds of BART passengers who stumbled into the middle of a war betwen "two groups of young train passengers." And, before I had to hear the victim's mom explain how he was turning his life around and how he would never see his 4-year-old daughter again...I suddenly became a caustic, cynical, old man.
"Two groups of young train passengers," judging solely by the looks of the fellows who officers had arrested, translates into "two gangs." They might not be Crips and Bloods, but they were two groups of guys running together and had a major beef -- in a very public place -- which each other.
There was no reason to even pull a weapon with the guy on the ground. It's a tragedy that the young man was killed. His family, I'm sure, will win a case and get civil damages from BART to help raise the man's daughter. The officer was wrong. He'll lose his job. BART will probably start doing more than advertising for police officers in BART stations, probably put their officers through more training.
I feel no pity for "young train passengers" who chose to put themselves at risk. I'm absolutely safe from even the worst BART or city police officer because...I don't brawl in a BART station at 2 a.m. and if an officer ever needed to talk to me about anything -- I'd do whatever he asked of me whenever he asked. I'd make it really easy for them. They wouldn't even have to put their knee on the back of my neck.
It's outlandish to imagine that the victim and his other "young train passengers" are even close to innocents. They chose to put hundreds of innocent citizens at risk by brawling in a a public place. If the BART officers hadn't tried to subdue the brawling groups, it could've actually been an innocent bystander who took a bullet.
So, the officers mishandled the situation. It's sad that the man lost his life. But...he chose to put himself in a risky, dangerous situation. The video makes the young "passengers" look like what most people I know consider to be common street thugs. In spite of the sadness I feel for his death and his family's loss (even street guys have loved ones), part of me feels like the BART stations might be a little more safe now. The streets are free of one less "passenger" who thinks it's OK to throw down, throw punches and, maybe, pull a weapon...any damn place he pleases.
There are thousands of people protesting in the Bay Area. Not one protestor will state the obvious, however. You won't hear anyone say, "Well, OK...if they hadn't been fighting in a BART station at 2 a.m., this never would've happened."
At some point, I'm sure, we'll learn of the victim's history. We might learn he was leader of an inner-city Boy Scout troop, who knows? What do you think we'll find out?
If one of my kids or a friend said, "Hey...we're rollin' on BART on New Year's EVE...me and my boys..." I'd say, "That's a risky proposition. Be very careful."
Ultimately, policemen make mistakes. There are bad policemen. I don't know anybody who has ever had an altercation with a police officer. Why? Well, I don't know anybody who puts themselves in situations where policemen have to intervene.
Sadly, the shooting seems like an example of when bad things happen to apparently bad people. The victim might not have been the baddest dude at that BART station...but he took a bullet for whomever were the baddest dudes.
Don't cause trouble and trouble will rarely find you.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Unfair to Bears
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28519221/
Reality is more bizarre than fantasy.
Check the link above because it will lead to a story about how the Discovery Channel's new TV show "Bear Feeding Frenzy"...is unfair to bears.
No kidding. Read from the Web site's story:
“The idea of a bear attack can be terrifying, and this show may not exactly ease those fears,” Alexander said. “It was meant to show bears in their natural environment, but experts say it misses the mark and instead reinforces the stereotype that most bears are looking to attack people.”
“It would be the very rare bear that would actually approach a person that closely,” Rick Sinnott of the Alaska Department of Fish and Game told NBC News.
As the lengthy explanation of how utterly ridiculous it is to actually worry that a TV show can "stereotype that most bears are looking to attack people," I realized...it's so utterly ridiculous that we should all step back and shout, "You gotta be kidding!?!?!"
It's the next step in a series of steps that never end. There are folks who insist that the eucalyptus trees along Highway 101 should be destroyed in part because they might threaten insects that naturally inhabit the area where the trees have existed for decades. Now, there are folks who are willing to state aloud, and for the record, that they fear that bears are being misrepresented in the media.
We should trust bears, I guess. Or, we should stop camping and give them space...because, maybe, there's that one bear who breaks the stereotype?
Good grief.
Reality is more bizarre than fantasy.
Check the link above because it will lead to a story about how the Discovery Channel's new TV show "Bear Feeding Frenzy"...is unfair to bears.
No kidding. Read from the Web site's story:
“The idea of a bear attack can be terrifying, and this show may not exactly ease those fears,” Alexander said. “It was meant to show bears in their natural environment, but experts say it misses the mark and instead reinforces the stereotype that most bears are looking to attack people.”
“It would be the very rare bear that would actually approach a person that closely,” Rick Sinnott of the Alaska Department of Fish and Game told NBC News.
As the lengthy explanation of how utterly ridiculous it is to actually worry that a TV show can "stereotype that most bears are looking to attack people," I realized...it's so utterly ridiculous that we should all step back and shout, "You gotta be kidding!?!?!"
It's the next step in a series of steps that never end. There are folks who insist that the eucalyptus trees along Highway 101 should be destroyed in part because they might threaten insects that naturally inhabit the area where the trees have existed for decades. Now, there are folks who are willing to state aloud, and for the record, that they fear that bears are being misrepresented in the media.
We should trust bears, I guess. Or, we should stop camping and give them space...because, maybe, there's that one bear who breaks the stereotype?
Good grief.
Monday, January 5, 2009
All-Time Baseball Team: Brainstorming II
This isn't a definitive list...yet.
I sat down to finish, at least, what would be Ted's All-Time North Coast Baseball Team -- then, realized, it's naive to believe that the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s didn't contribute a single all-timer I have affection for as a player and, I suppose, as a person.
Here's the list...a lineup...with some additional notes because, hey, it's my team and I should include guys I saw a lot or heard great things about from people I trust...you can't really cancel your subscription, right? You can offer comments, argue and all that, though.
---
1b...Mark Lucich...no change from the team I picked in the 1990s for the newspaper. He was a classy, gifted, hard-working guy who seemed heroic to me in the late 1960s and early 1970s.
Odds are nobody could talk me out of Lucich as my favorite all-time. But, I realized I played on more different teams with former Eureka High first baseman Tad Sundquist than I did, probably, with any other player. We even went to Cutten Elementary School together. I was on Tad's team in the Eureka Midget League (Belcher's Giants), then for two years at Winship Junior High School. (Back when junior high sports were a really big deal in Eureka.) Then, I played with Sundquist at Eureka High and, briefly, at CR. Tad hit with power and fielded the position well. He ran better than most first baseman. It seemed cool, commendable, to me that he got drafted a few times and never signed a pro contract. I don't know why he didn't sign, but I thought it was intriguing that he didn't just go along with the rest. He was just...a ball of fury, a total stud. Since it's my team, I'd put Tad Sundquist on it.
2b...Bob Bonomini...He was a star for the Crabs, started at second base, for a fair portion of my youth. I didn't even know he went to Fresno State, he could just rake and
Nobody can or will challenge Bons for this spot. I just need a middle infielder to pinch-run after he lines a single through the hole to start the 7th inning.
SS...Garth Iorg...at the time I played against them, I thought Roger Hawkins and Mike Dolf were far better players than Garth Iorg at Arcata High. And, really, everybody agreed with me about Mike Dolf...I happened to think Hawkins was better than either of them. But, heck, Iorg made it to the big leagues and that's rare for North Coast players.
I can't emphasize enough, to modern parents or players, that Garth Iorg worked hard, perservered and learned the game...and worked his way to the big league. Lots of guys who faced the same challenges he did came home with stories about how he got screwed by the organization, etc.
3B...Scott Eskra..It's my list
I don't guess that many people are reading this because Eskra's a no-brainer based on sheer ability, but maybe came up lacking in other areas. Perhaps, I should've tested the size of the readership by putting some choir buy who drank Pepsi at third base?
LF: Dane Iorg, Arcata...
I still tend to think that Dane was always considered better than his brother Lee, but that it was hip to say, "Ahh...Lee was the best player, he just wanted to do other things." Actually, Lee was the fastest of the Iorg brothers and could really play centerfield...but Dane Iorg ... maybe my favorite Humboldt Crabs player ever...and...
CF: Paul Ziegler, Fortuna...he was faster
Greg Lorenzetti, another Fortuna alum, starred at Stanford, for the Crabs and in the minor leagues. He'll be on the finished team...I think Lorenzetti and Ziegler were both Fortuna football quarterbacks and basketball players. Ziegler was point guard on a team with a tough forward named Bob Wilson -- that got into an oncourt brawl in 1975 or 1976 with a good Arcata team. Fans were on the court. It was great fun for a teen sports writer!
RF: ... Buster Pidgeon had all the tools and he starred at Eureka High and for that great 1968 Eureka American Legion team. I'm sure Harold "Buster" Pidgeon wasn't a rightfielder...but, I'm sure he gave it a shot in his time in the Phillies organization. He could run. Gary Lucich, another Eureka High guy, is actually my favorite rightfielder. I was saddened when he died way too soon. His brother Mark was the superior baseball player, but Gary used to beat everybody else off the field -- from right field -- between innings. I didn't hustle, but I thought his hustle was the greatest.
This could be a spot for one of the old-time, all-timers.
C: ...again...still thinking...John Jaso is a nice pick, and would give the Humboldt Dukes a representative (as if 3 months on the Dukes supercedes his high school. N. Humboldt Giants and college careers). But, you know Carl Del Grande was a power-hitting catcher in the 1940s. He had a nice minor league career with two organizations after he left Eureka...then, he owned and operated "The Shanty" for decades -- and, he knew my dad back when my dad was tearing up 2 Street on a pretty routine basis. Greg Kane remains difficult to overlook...because I saw him hit his home runs. And...didn't Eureka's David Stone do some catching at some point in his career? Maybe in the minor leagues?
SP: I'd start with Eureka legend Billy Olson, the lefty
St. Bernard's Greg Shanahan was the righty contemporary of Olson's. Like Olson, he starred for the Crabs and, it's noteworthy that Shanahan starred at Humboldt State College -- when the baseball field was where the Science building has been for years now. Shanahan's probably the only choice for a No. 2 starter...you go lefty-righty...different styles of pitcher.
There are going to be pitchers on this list who didn't make the Times-Standard list because very little separates guys who excel locally and then go on to bounce around the minors for a few years. Having a brief pro career doesn't mean as much to me as being a stud on the North Coast from start to finish.
I sat down to finish, at least, what would be Ted's All-Time North Coast Baseball Team -- then, realized, it's naive to believe that the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s didn't contribute a single all-timer I have affection for as a player and, I suppose, as a person.
Here's the list...a lineup...with some additional notes because, hey, it's my team and I should include guys I saw a lot or heard great things about from people I trust...you can't really cancel your subscription, right? You can offer comments, argue and all that, though.
---
1b...Mark Lucich...no change from the team I picked in the 1990s for the newspaper. He was a classy, gifted, hard-working guy who seemed heroic to me in the late 1960s and early 1970s.
Odds are nobody could talk me out of Lucich as my favorite all-time. But, I realized I played on more different teams with former Eureka High first baseman Tad Sundquist than I did, probably, with any other player. We even went to Cutten Elementary School together. I was on Tad's team in the Eureka Midget League (Belcher's Giants), then for two years at Winship Junior High School. (Back when junior high sports were a really big deal in Eureka.) Then, I played with Sundquist at Eureka High and, briefly, at CR. Tad hit with power and fielded the position well. He ran better than most first baseman. It seemed cool, commendable, to me that he got drafted a few times and never signed a pro contract. I don't know why he didn't sign, but I thought it was intriguing that he didn't just go along with the rest. He was just...a ball of fury, a total stud. Since it's my team, I'd put Tad Sundquist on it.
2b...Bob Bonomini...He was a star for the Crabs, started at second base, for a fair portion of my youth. I didn't even know he went to Fresno State, he could just rake and
Nobody can or will challenge Bons for this spot. I just need a middle infielder to pinch-run after he lines a single through the hole to start the 7th inning.
SS...Garth Iorg...at the time I played against them, I thought Roger Hawkins and Mike Dolf were far better players than Garth Iorg at Arcata High. And, really, everybody agreed with me about Mike Dolf...I happened to think Hawkins was better than either of them. But, heck, Iorg made it to the big leagues and that's rare for North Coast players.
I can't emphasize enough, to modern parents or players, that Garth Iorg worked hard, perservered and learned the game...and worked his way to the big league. Lots of guys who faced the same challenges he did came home with stories about how he got screwed by the organization, etc.
3B...Scott Eskra..It's my list
I don't guess that many people are reading this because Eskra's a no-brainer based on sheer ability, but maybe came up lacking in other areas. Perhaps, I should've tested the size of the readership by putting some choir buy who drank Pepsi at third base?
LF: Dane Iorg, Arcata...
I still tend to think that Dane was always considered better than his brother Lee, but that it was hip to say, "Ahh...Lee was the best player, he just wanted to do other things." Actually, Lee was the fastest of the Iorg brothers and could really play centerfield...but Dane Iorg ... maybe my favorite Humboldt Crabs player ever...and...
CF: Paul Ziegler, Fortuna...he was faster
Greg Lorenzetti, another Fortuna alum, starred at Stanford, for the Crabs and in the minor leagues. He'll be on the finished team...I think Lorenzetti and Ziegler were both Fortuna football quarterbacks and basketball players. Ziegler was point guard on a team with a tough forward named Bob Wilson -- that got into an oncourt brawl in 1975 or 1976 with a good Arcata team. Fans were on the court. It was great fun for a teen sports writer!
RF: ... Buster Pidgeon had all the tools and he starred at Eureka High and for that great 1968 Eureka American Legion team. I'm sure Harold "Buster" Pidgeon wasn't a rightfielder...but, I'm sure he gave it a shot in his time in the Phillies organization. He could run. Gary Lucich, another Eureka High guy, is actually my favorite rightfielder. I was saddened when he died way too soon. His brother Mark was the superior baseball player, but Gary used to beat everybody else off the field -- from right field -- between innings. I didn't hustle, but I thought his hustle was the greatest.
This could be a spot for one of the old-time, all-timers.
C: ...again...still thinking...John Jaso is a nice pick, and would give the Humboldt Dukes a representative (as if 3 months on the Dukes supercedes his high school. N. Humboldt Giants and college careers). But, you know Carl Del Grande was a power-hitting catcher in the 1940s. He had a nice minor league career with two organizations after he left Eureka...then, he owned and operated "The Shanty" for decades -- and, he knew my dad back when my dad was tearing up 2 Street on a pretty routine basis. Greg Kane remains difficult to overlook...because I saw him hit his home runs. And...didn't Eureka's David Stone do some catching at some point in his career? Maybe in the minor leagues?
SP: I'd start with Eureka legend Billy Olson, the lefty
St. Bernard's Greg Shanahan was the righty contemporary of Olson's. Like Olson, he starred for the Crabs and, it's noteworthy that Shanahan starred at Humboldt State College -- when the baseball field was where the Science building has been for years now. Shanahan's probably the only choice for a No. 2 starter...you go lefty-righty...different styles of pitcher.
There are going to be pitchers on this list who didn't make the Times-Standard list because very little separates guys who excel locally and then go on to bounce around the minors for a few years. Having a brief pro career doesn't mean as much to me as being a stud on the North Coast from start to finish.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Save Those Eucalyptus Trees
My mom believed in all kinds of bizarre things. She felt that putting eucalyptus tree leaves under my mattress would somehow keep fleas from jumping off my dog and into my bed.
Naturally, she felt that the aroma of eucalyptus played a positive role in decongesting my sinus passages in a childhood spent sniffling and snorting and wondering if other kids' noses were always congested.
So, damned if I don't read that CalTrans is thinking about cutting down the eucalyptus trees on the south end of Highway 101 outside Eureka.
Now, I think it's ridiculous to consider them a danger because it's just not that busy on that portion of 101. If a tree falls on the highway and there are no cars for it to hit, is it a danger? Someone pointed out the cost to the state or country to trim and attend to the trees. I can't rightly recall ever seeing anyone near those trees trimming or pruning or cleaning up brush. But, hell, I only lived up there for 40 years, right?
When I see those trees, I'm reminded of visiting my Aunt Emily's house or going to see Uncle Dan and Aunt Betty. I smell that eucalyptus and think about going to watch the Humboldt Crabs play on Saturday nights in the summer. Dammit! They are not, and never should be, referred to simply as "non-native, invasive" species that never belonged along the highway in the first place.
Is nothing sacred now? Have people who think Eureka was founded in 1989 really taken over up there? Can't the dudes who fought to get that "You Are Entering a Nuclear Free Zone" sign posted outside Arcata band together and say, "Man...lighten up...them trees ain't hurtin' nobody...and they're part of the lifestyle..." or something?
I know people will gripe that I moved away and, thus, have no voice in the future of those eucalyptus trees. I'm a native, non-invasive member of a larger Humboldt County community that includes people who moved, for many reasons, but still love the area. They were my trees way before every tree in Humboldt County became the center of a battle between environmentalists and loggers.
My mom told me 40 years ago that they planted those trees as a wind break. I thought it was landscaping for the lumber mill behind the trees back then.
People who gripe about invasive species of trees or who want to send people to Willow Creek if they want to look at trees as they drive are missing the point...willingly and intentionally. And, yep, I'm quite aware that eucalyptus is a fine wood to burn...it burns hot and long. So, while I'm upset that my eucalyptus are being considered for extinction...I don't mind the idea of cutting that particular species to burn and warm my house.
Humboldt County's lost it's economic base, not it's losing its soul. The economic base can, I hope, be restored. But, if you keep removing the things that make Eureka clearly Eureka...or the things that make Fortuna recognizable as Fortuna...what's left? A generic stretch of Highway 101...that sends tourists flocking to Ferndale for the lone remaining taste of what Humboldt County actually once stood for.
No...I can't believe it either...I'm mad about the cavalier attitude toward cutting down my eucalyptus trees.
Naturally, she felt that the aroma of eucalyptus played a positive role in decongesting my sinus passages in a childhood spent sniffling and snorting and wondering if other kids' noses were always congested.
So, damned if I don't read that CalTrans is thinking about cutting down the eucalyptus trees on the south end of Highway 101 outside Eureka.
Now, I think it's ridiculous to consider them a danger because it's just not that busy on that portion of 101. If a tree falls on the highway and there are no cars for it to hit, is it a danger? Someone pointed out the cost to the state or country to trim and attend to the trees. I can't rightly recall ever seeing anyone near those trees trimming or pruning or cleaning up brush. But, hell, I only lived up there for 40 years, right?
When I see those trees, I'm reminded of visiting my Aunt Emily's house or going to see Uncle Dan and Aunt Betty. I smell that eucalyptus and think about going to watch the Humboldt Crabs play on Saturday nights in the summer. Dammit! They are not, and never should be, referred to simply as "non-native, invasive" species that never belonged along the highway in the first place.
Is nothing sacred now? Have people who think Eureka was founded in 1989 really taken over up there? Can't the dudes who fought to get that "You Are Entering a Nuclear Free Zone" sign posted outside Arcata band together and say, "Man...lighten up...them trees ain't hurtin' nobody...and they're part of the lifestyle..." or something?
I know people will gripe that I moved away and, thus, have no voice in the future of those eucalyptus trees. I'm a native, non-invasive member of a larger Humboldt County community that includes people who moved, for many reasons, but still love the area. They were my trees way before every tree in Humboldt County became the center of a battle between environmentalists and loggers.
My mom told me 40 years ago that they planted those trees as a wind break. I thought it was landscaping for the lumber mill behind the trees back then.
People who gripe about invasive species of trees or who want to send people to Willow Creek if they want to look at trees as they drive are missing the point...willingly and intentionally. And, yep, I'm quite aware that eucalyptus is a fine wood to burn...it burns hot and long. So, while I'm upset that my eucalyptus are being considered for extinction...I don't mind the idea of cutting that particular species to burn and warm my house.
Humboldt County's lost it's economic base, not it's losing its soul. The economic base can, I hope, be restored. But, if you keep removing the things that make Eureka clearly Eureka...or the things that make Fortuna recognizable as Fortuna...what's left? A generic stretch of Highway 101...that sends tourists flocking to Ferndale for the lone remaining taste of what Humboldt County actually once stood for.
No...I can't believe it either...I'm mad about the cavalier attitude toward cutting down my eucalyptus trees.
Friday, January 2, 2009
What About Sir Tom Jones?
Anonymous said...
Julio Iglesias DOES put on an amazing show! I saw him the first time in 1984 from a hillside in Cleveland, Ohio's Blossom Music Center and it got so cold people were lighting fires in trash cans--but nobody left! I've managed to get to about 50 of his shows, since then....
Lynda------------------------
OK, I'll grant Lynda that Julio Iglesias probably does put on a good show. She's seen him in concert 50 times.
But...if Julio Iglesias puts on "an amazing show," then what's left to describe Englebert Humperdinck in concert?
And, knowing already that there's super-fan out there who'll say Englebert Humperdinck's amazing...what's then left to describe a Sir Tom Jones in concert?
Granted, there are only so many adjectives to go around...but, the adjective that means he's The Man...sort of has to be reserved for Sir Tom Jones.
I dig Tom Jones. His voice is as good today as it was 40 years ago when he was 30 years old. He can still grind it and, boy, do the ladies love Sir Tom! He's No. 1.
Unless, I guess, Neil Diamond suddenly winds up in the mix. I saw his show in 1978 in Seattle, Wash. He rocked, therefore he still rocks. (If I allow for diminished talent due to the passage of time, I have to allow that I'm aging less than gracefully myself.)
So...you got enough money for one concert ticket...Julio Iglesias, Englebert Humperdinck, Neil Diamond and Sir Tom Jones are all in town...who do you pay to see?
Julio Iglesias DOES put on an amazing show! I saw him the first time in 1984 from a hillside in Cleveland, Ohio's Blossom Music Center and it got so cold people were lighting fires in trash cans--but nobody left! I've managed to get to about 50 of his shows, since then....
Lynda------------------------
OK, I'll grant Lynda that Julio Iglesias probably does put on a good show. She's seen him in concert 50 times.
But...if Julio Iglesias puts on "an amazing show," then what's left to describe Englebert Humperdinck in concert?
And, knowing already that there's super-fan out there who'll say Englebert Humperdinck's amazing...what's then left to describe a Sir Tom Jones in concert?
Granted, there are only so many adjectives to go around...but, the adjective that means he's The Man...sort of has to be reserved for Sir Tom Jones.
I dig Tom Jones. His voice is as good today as it was 40 years ago when he was 30 years old. He can still grind it and, boy, do the ladies love Sir Tom! He's No. 1.
Unless, I guess, Neil Diamond suddenly winds up in the mix. I saw his show in 1978 in Seattle, Wash. He rocked, therefore he still rocks. (If I allow for diminished talent due to the passage of time, I have to allow that I'm aging less than gracefully myself.)
So...you got enough money for one concert ticket...Julio Iglesias, Englebert Humperdinck, Neil Diamond and Sir Tom Jones are all in town...who do you pay to see?
People Are Dumb: Look Around, Read the Signs
There's a space-age Safeway in the shopping center up the street from my house. The store, which is way more than a store, has within it a giant pharmacy, a Starbuck's, a nice big deli and a branch of Wells Fargo Bank.
There's really no good time to shop at Safeway, or Raley's a mile in the other direction. The stores are busy all the time. I'm not sure when people all started shopping for three items at a time, but that's the trend. If people would shop, and fill a cart, they could shop once a week and not have to be in my Safeway at 11 o' clock at night buying milk and garbage bags. At 11 o'clock, I should own that Safeway. Well, me and nurses getting off the night shift at the hospital. Safeway makes a profit staying open 24 hours down here by keeping a skeleton crew on deck.
On Tuesday night, I had my cookies standing in a line that stretched halfway down the cleaning products aisle. I was behind people buying Tylenol and cupcakes, a fifth of Jack Daniels and a Zippo lighter, two loaves of bread and bologna and cheese ... and one guy who had a basket half filled with groceries. There always seems to be two relatively young women, in pajama bottoms and hoodys, giggling and buying something I would never have imagined people would leave their house to buy at 11 p.m.
That type trip to Safeway is nothing compared to hitting the joint in the middle of the afternoon -- needing to do business at Wells Fargo and the nicest pharmacist (arguably the most pleasant customer service individual) ever Christine Lum. This isn't my hometown where people are friendly and people know and remember people in stores and banks. I don't know Christine Lum personally, but I took time to learn her name because she's so damned helpful.
Oh, so, before I went to deal with Christine Lum's often not so helpful staff...I had to stop at Wells Fargo. The branch takes up as much room as your average McDonald's needs for half its front counter and a quarter of the kitchen. It's small, but it's understaffed...even with the nine employees and one branch manager I counted in there Friday afternoon.
The minute you get in line, a customer service person asks how they can be of service. Oddly, not one has ever smiled when I've said, "You could let me cut to the front of the line, for starters." Today, the guy whisked me into the office -- a tiny rectangle space with three computers at two tiny workspaces where personal bankers do, well, personal banking.
I heard one woman ask the same question six times...and, yeah, I counted.
"Will the money still go to my high-yield account?"
Each time, the personal banker answered the same way and each time I became increasingly moved to shout, "She doesn't get it...talk slower..."
Finally, the old woman got her high-yield question answered and I was up. I, literally, traded chairs with her. She needed a receipt or something. I needed to be with the personal banker. We looked like two people changing seats on a Southwest Airlines jet, "Excuse me. Pardon me. Excuse me."
Then, as I was sitting there waiting for my banker to ... bank ... a man and woman pushed into the office and mumbled, "Kin' we stand here?" The banker said, "Certainly! Someone will be right with you," because that's what all the employees said the entire time I was waiting at Wells Fargo.
Then, as I was doing my personal banking, I felt someone push against me and saw a tattered checkbook flop down on the desk beside me. Then, I heard the woman who'd pushed her way in ask, "How long's it gonna be? I can't be waitin' a half-hour in here!" I looked up and, surprise...she was in pajama bottoms and a gray hoody.
Seriously.
Then, she explained to the banker who made the mistake of making eye contact that her Social Security check had been accidentally deposited to her Wells Fargo account and..."How long do I have tuh wait? I gotta get to my other bank!"...her transaction involved the nefarious acquistion of funds from a government payout that involved her aunt. (If she invades my space, I'm going to listen very closely.)
If figures that my banker was quick, apologetic and alert. When I smirked, shook my head and mumbled, "Incredible!" he said, "I'm so sorry sir! It takes a moment to..." I mentioned I thought the customers they had to deal with were impolite and not really very bright. Of course, maybe if those people only had $18.21 in a personal checking account like mine, they'd be really polite and quick to understand things.
From Wells Fargo, I walked to the back of the store to the pharmacy. Christine Lum wasn't working, so I settled in for a long wait.
A couple years ago, I wrote a newspaper column about how rude it is for people in line at the pharmacy to crowd up on me when I'm getting prescriptions and talking to the pharmacist. It's impolite to crash anybody's pill party, you know? There's a reason that the doctor takes patients into a room and closes the door to do exams. It's private. Health issues are not for public consumption.
So, in the newspaper column, I suggested Safeway require that the line for the pharmacy checkout window begin a distance away from said window. Two weeks later...there was a sign and a rope telling customers that pharmacy transactions were private and that the line started 10 feet from the window. (And, I thought I couldn't make a difference?)
I was standing by that sign feeling good about the length of the wait I faced. There was a woman checking out and an old woman with orang'ish red hair and incredibly large bags under her eyes leaning all over the counter next to that woman. There are two cash registers, two places to slide your bank card. Since the red-head was literally brushing elbows with the other lady, I figured both checkouts were running.
I've always wondered why guys in movies waltz into a tavern, then lean all over the bar and whisper, "I'll take a whiskey." In real life, I've rarely ever been able to squeeze close enough to shout at a bartender. So, I thought it a foolish depiction of reality. Nobody gets that comfortable and stakes out that much personal space at a bar.
The red-haired woman had a body-width all around and called it her own. She was listening in on the other woman's transaction which well could've been for herpes medication or a salve for genital warts. At about the time the woman checked out, I noticed that the red-head was wearing a gray hoody and gray sweats...and that she was waiting in line...at the counter...eavesdropping. And, no, she wasn't sick. I've seen people too sick to stand up at the pharmacy. She just thought the sign was for everybody except her and walked up to press the clerk as if standing in the clerk's grill would get her moving more quickly.
I noticed that the sign, my sign asking for privacy, had been turned sideways. Maybe the old red head didn't see it. I turned it so that anyone who approached the rope could read, assuming they can read at all, the sign asking for privacy. When I approached the checkout window, the next person stopped -- respectfully -- at the sign.
Read the sign. Look around. Use your head. Simple rules, aren't they? Nobody really follows them.
There's really no good time to shop at Safeway, or Raley's a mile in the other direction. The stores are busy all the time. I'm not sure when people all started shopping for three items at a time, but that's the trend. If people would shop, and fill a cart, they could shop once a week and not have to be in my Safeway at 11 o' clock at night buying milk and garbage bags. At 11 o'clock, I should own that Safeway. Well, me and nurses getting off the night shift at the hospital. Safeway makes a profit staying open 24 hours down here by keeping a skeleton crew on deck.
On Tuesday night, I had my cookies standing in a line that stretched halfway down the cleaning products aisle. I was behind people buying Tylenol and cupcakes, a fifth of Jack Daniels and a Zippo lighter, two loaves of bread and bologna and cheese ... and one guy who had a basket half filled with groceries. There always seems to be two relatively young women, in pajama bottoms and hoodys, giggling and buying something I would never have imagined people would leave their house to buy at 11 p.m.
That type trip to Safeway is nothing compared to hitting the joint in the middle of the afternoon -- needing to do business at Wells Fargo and the nicest pharmacist (arguably the most pleasant customer service individual) ever Christine Lum. This isn't my hometown where people are friendly and people know and remember people in stores and banks. I don't know Christine Lum personally, but I took time to learn her name because she's so damned helpful.
Oh, so, before I went to deal with Christine Lum's often not so helpful staff...I had to stop at Wells Fargo. The branch takes up as much room as your average McDonald's needs for half its front counter and a quarter of the kitchen. It's small, but it's understaffed...even with the nine employees and one branch manager I counted in there Friday afternoon.
The minute you get in line, a customer service person asks how they can be of service. Oddly, not one has ever smiled when I've said, "You could let me cut to the front of the line, for starters." Today, the guy whisked me into the office -- a tiny rectangle space with three computers at two tiny workspaces where personal bankers do, well, personal banking.
I heard one woman ask the same question six times...and, yeah, I counted.
"Will the money still go to my high-yield account?"
Each time, the personal banker answered the same way and each time I became increasingly moved to shout, "She doesn't get it...talk slower..."
Finally, the old woman got her high-yield question answered and I was up. I, literally, traded chairs with her. She needed a receipt or something. I needed to be with the personal banker. We looked like two people changing seats on a Southwest Airlines jet, "Excuse me. Pardon me. Excuse me."
Then, as I was sitting there waiting for my banker to ... bank ... a man and woman pushed into the office and mumbled, "Kin' we stand here?" The banker said, "Certainly! Someone will be right with you," because that's what all the employees said the entire time I was waiting at Wells Fargo.
Then, as I was doing my personal banking, I felt someone push against me and saw a tattered checkbook flop down on the desk beside me. Then, I heard the woman who'd pushed her way in ask, "How long's it gonna be? I can't be waitin' a half-hour in here!" I looked up and, surprise...she was in pajama bottoms and a gray hoody.
Seriously.
Then, she explained to the banker who made the mistake of making eye contact that her Social Security check had been accidentally deposited to her Wells Fargo account and..."How long do I have tuh wait? I gotta get to my other bank!"...her transaction involved the nefarious acquistion of funds from a government payout that involved her aunt. (If she invades my space, I'm going to listen very closely.)
If figures that my banker was quick, apologetic and alert. When I smirked, shook my head and mumbled, "Incredible!" he said, "I'm so sorry sir! It takes a moment to..." I mentioned I thought the customers they had to deal with were impolite and not really very bright. Of course, maybe if those people only had $18.21 in a personal checking account like mine, they'd be really polite and quick to understand things.
From Wells Fargo, I walked to the back of the store to the pharmacy. Christine Lum wasn't working, so I settled in for a long wait.
A couple years ago, I wrote a newspaper column about how rude it is for people in line at the pharmacy to crowd up on me when I'm getting prescriptions and talking to the pharmacist. It's impolite to crash anybody's pill party, you know? There's a reason that the doctor takes patients into a room and closes the door to do exams. It's private. Health issues are not for public consumption.
So, in the newspaper column, I suggested Safeway require that the line for the pharmacy checkout window begin a distance away from said window. Two weeks later...there was a sign and a rope telling customers that pharmacy transactions were private and that the line started 10 feet from the window. (And, I thought I couldn't make a difference?)
I was standing by that sign feeling good about the length of the wait I faced. There was a woman checking out and an old woman with orang'ish red hair and incredibly large bags under her eyes leaning all over the counter next to that woman. There are two cash registers, two places to slide your bank card. Since the red-head was literally brushing elbows with the other lady, I figured both checkouts were running.
I've always wondered why guys in movies waltz into a tavern, then lean all over the bar and whisper, "I'll take a whiskey." In real life, I've rarely ever been able to squeeze close enough to shout at a bartender. So, I thought it a foolish depiction of reality. Nobody gets that comfortable and stakes out that much personal space at a bar.
The red-haired woman had a body-width all around and called it her own. She was listening in on the other woman's transaction which well could've been for herpes medication or a salve for genital warts. At about the time the woman checked out, I noticed that the red-head was wearing a gray hoody and gray sweats...and that she was waiting in line...at the counter...eavesdropping. And, no, she wasn't sick. I've seen people too sick to stand up at the pharmacy. She just thought the sign was for everybody except her and walked up to press the clerk as if standing in the clerk's grill would get her moving more quickly.
I noticed that the sign, my sign asking for privacy, had been turned sideways. Maybe the old red head didn't see it. I turned it so that anyone who approached the rope could read, assuming they can read at all, the sign asking for privacy. When I approached the checkout window, the next person stopped -- respectfully -- at the sign.
Read the sign. Look around. Use your head. Simple rules, aren't they? Nobody really follows them.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Manny Ramirez and the San Francisco Giants
There's been no reason for other fans to pay attention to the San Francisco Giants the last few years, so here's what I've gathered as a member of the Bay Area media who pays really close attention to what the club says is its plan...and, I know, this isn't anything about what this space is usually devoted to, but I feel like knocking bloggers and "rumors" merits me doing something that's, at least, based in fact...since the big sports news story of New Year's Day resulted from one sentence mention of Ramirez and the Giants in the Denver Post...
The Giants love left fielder Fred Lewis. If they are pursuing Ramirez, it's not about Aaron Roward or Randy Winn, it's about Lewis. And, Lewis is a below-average defender who would have to move to a spacious right field at AT&T Park in San Francisco. Lewis will play everyday for the Giants in 2009, based on what GM Brian Sabean said. If they are pursuing Ramirez...they're saying they believe Lewis is an athlete who can learn to play right field. Sabean said on KNBR radio recently that they love Lewis because he can hit at the top or in the middle of the order.
The Giants signed Aaron Rowand to a big free agent contract...he is their centerfielder. He had an off year with the bat in 2008. There's not the slightest hint from anybody in the organization that they'd trade him or even consider using somebody like Dave Roberts in some sort of platoon. It doesn't matter whether they overpaid to get Rowand...he's the centerfielder. They aren't trying to trade him to make room for Ramirez or anything.
And, Dave Roberts is just a part-time guy with a star player's contract. Even if they don't sign Ramirez, if a couple young players produce in spring training, the Giants would just unload Roberts. They put him on waivers late last year and nobody claimed him. Roberts has nothing to do with signing Ramirez.
Randy Winn's a professional ... he hit over .300 and drove in runs in a really really weak lineup in '08. People who mention him and Roberts in the same breath, as though they're the same type player, haven't followed Winn's career. He was often the only true big leaguer in the lineup in '08. They'd trade him, but...why? It's hitters they need and he's a hitter. His contract is too big to make him very marketable to start with...but, if they're pursuing Ramirez, they're saying they believe they can trade Winn. Winn's in the last year of his contract and...as mentioned, Lewis is going to play every day...he's the first guy to emerge as the Giants committ to their farm system.
The idea of spending Ramirez-type monoey on guys like Adam Dunn and third baseman Joe Crede doesn't make sense. They could get those two for the cost of Ramirez, but...why?
Dunn's a lefthand power hitter who would likely view cavernous AT&T Park as the last place he'd want to play 81 games. I believe his batting average in SF shows he just doesn't hit here. The Giants made an attempt to get Crede last winter when he was coming off the back injury. They passed and, really, they figure that they're OK with Pedro Sandoval at third and some platoon at first base.
Sandoval's a hitter who should be a catcher or at first base, but the Giants have to believe until they see if their second 2008 first-round draft pick Conor Gillespie's going to become a big leaguer. Plus...they have what they feel is an adequate first base platoon in Travis Ishikawa and Rich Aurilia. They have no such thing at third base...so, the young catcher who's the first star-potential prospect to come out of the Giants system in years is the third baseman for now.
Everything the Giants do now to the lineup is done with their belief that Buster Posey's going to make it to the big leagues very quickly. He was their first No. 1 in 2008...he's a catcher...he could, I think, play a corner infield spot as long as Benji Molina's finishing his contract in SF. Molina's a valuable trade piece, though, so when Posey's ready...Molina goes.
Sabean sounds like they could conceivably count on Posey making it to the big leagues this year. So...don't just list the anticipated everyday lineup...put Posey at the top of the lineup with a question mark as his position...then write in Sandoval with "3b-1b-c" after his name...then list a lineup...that's what the Giants are looking at as we wonder if they'd really sign Ramirez.
Sabean says he expects the free agent field to develop late and offer "bargains" like, as the San Francisco Chronicle's Henry Schulman pointed out Wednesday at sfgate.com, they got in right fielder Reggie Sanders and third baseman David Bell in the spring of 2002. They signed them around spring training time for very affordable deals. They were productive for that Giants World Series team. You can bet that, especially after signing Barry Zito on ownership's whim, Sabean will be really patient now.
This market's making it a lot harder for Dunn, Pat Burrell, Bobby Abreu and even Ramirez to get anywhere near the cash or the years they expected. So...sure...the Giants would sign Ramirez if he becomes what they consider a bargain given his overall value.
It's silly to say, "The Giants would NEVER sign Ramirez," because...the NL West's weak and a hitter could put them over the top. And, don't forget, these are tough economic times and folks aren't going to flock to AT&T Park just to soak the ambience by the bay to watch a 75-win team...ownership must realize they need to win games to attract fans in between Lincecum's starts...and Randy Johnson's starts as he chases those five wins to get to No. 300. And, really, they're looking at crowds of under 20,000 with the current lineup on nights those two aren't pitching. And, if Johnson's over the hill...it's a Lincecum sellout, then lots of empty seats.
Ownership didn't use public money to build the SF ball park. They're paying off the stadium. So...maybe..they see a short, expensive contract for Ramirez as spending money to make money.
The Giants love left fielder Fred Lewis. If they are pursuing Ramirez, it's not about Aaron Roward or Randy Winn, it's about Lewis. And, Lewis is a below-average defender who would have to move to a spacious right field at AT&T Park in San Francisco. Lewis will play everyday for the Giants in 2009, based on what GM Brian Sabean said. If they are pursuing Ramirez...they're saying they believe Lewis is an athlete who can learn to play right field. Sabean said on KNBR radio recently that they love Lewis because he can hit at the top or in the middle of the order.
The Giants signed Aaron Rowand to a big free agent contract...he is their centerfielder. He had an off year with the bat in 2008. There's not the slightest hint from anybody in the organization that they'd trade him or even consider using somebody like Dave Roberts in some sort of platoon. It doesn't matter whether they overpaid to get Rowand...he's the centerfielder. They aren't trying to trade him to make room for Ramirez or anything.
And, Dave Roberts is just a part-time guy with a star player's contract. Even if they don't sign Ramirez, if a couple young players produce in spring training, the Giants would just unload Roberts. They put him on waivers late last year and nobody claimed him. Roberts has nothing to do with signing Ramirez.
Randy Winn's a professional ... he hit over .300 and drove in runs in a really really weak lineup in '08. People who mention him and Roberts in the same breath, as though they're the same type player, haven't followed Winn's career. He was often the only true big leaguer in the lineup in '08. They'd trade him, but...why? It's hitters they need and he's a hitter. His contract is too big to make him very marketable to start with...but, if they're pursuing Ramirez, they're saying they believe they can trade Winn. Winn's in the last year of his contract and...as mentioned, Lewis is going to play every day...he's the first guy to emerge as the Giants committ to their farm system.
The idea of spending Ramirez-type monoey on guys like Adam Dunn and third baseman Joe Crede doesn't make sense. They could get those two for the cost of Ramirez, but...why?
Dunn's a lefthand power hitter who would likely view cavernous AT&T Park as the last place he'd want to play 81 games. I believe his batting average in SF shows he just doesn't hit here. The Giants made an attempt to get Crede last winter when he was coming off the back injury. They passed and, really, they figure that they're OK with Pedro Sandoval at third and some platoon at first base.
Sandoval's a hitter who should be a catcher or at first base, but the Giants have to believe until they see if their second 2008 first-round draft pick Conor Gillespie's going to become a big leaguer. Plus...they have what they feel is an adequate first base platoon in Travis Ishikawa and Rich Aurilia. They have no such thing at third base...so, the young catcher who's the first star-potential prospect to come out of the Giants system in years is the third baseman for now.
Everything the Giants do now to the lineup is done with their belief that Buster Posey's going to make it to the big leagues very quickly. He was their first No. 1 in 2008...he's a catcher...he could, I think, play a corner infield spot as long as Benji Molina's finishing his contract in SF. Molina's a valuable trade piece, though, so when Posey's ready...Molina goes.
Sabean sounds like they could conceivably count on Posey making it to the big leagues this year. So...don't just list the anticipated everyday lineup...put Posey at the top of the lineup with a question mark as his position...then write in Sandoval with "3b-1b-c" after his name...then list a lineup...that's what the Giants are looking at as we wonder if they'd really sign Ramirez.
Sabean says he expects the free agent field to develop late and offer "bargains" like, as the San Francisco Chronicle's Henry Schulman pointed out Wednesday at sfgate.com, they got in right fielder Reggie Sanders and third baseman David Bell in the spring of 2002. They signed them around spring training time for very affordable deals. They were productive for that Giants World Series team. You can bet that, especially after signing Barry Zito on ownership's whim, Sabean will be really patient now.
This market's making it a lot harder for Dunn, Pat Burrell, Bobby Abreu and even Ramirez to get anywhere near the cash or the years they expected. So...sure...the Giants would sign Ramirez if he becomes what they consider a bargain given his overall value.
It's silly to say, "The Giants would NEVER sign Ramirez," because...the NL West's weak and a hitter could put them over the top. And, don't forget, these are tough economic times and folks aren't going to flock to AT&T Park just to soak the ambience by the bay to watch a 75-win team...ownership must realize they need to win games to attract fans in between Lincecum's starts...and Randy Johnson's starts as he chases those five wins to get to No. 300. And, really, they're looking at crowds of under 20,000 with the current lineup on nights those two aren't pitching. And, if Johnson's over the hill...it's a Lincecum sellout, then lots of empty seats.
Ownership didn't use public money to build the SF ball park. They're paying off the stadium. So...maybe..they see a short, expensive contract for Ramirez as spending money to make money.
Blogging's Writing, but Rarely Reporting
So, I wake up at like 10:30 in the morning and do what every American does on New Year's Day -- tune my high-def TV to the National Hockey League Winter Classic on NBC.
The game was played on an outdoor rink in the center of Wrigley Field in Chicago. The Red Wings were playing the Blackhawks and ...
OK, so almost no one would tune into the Winter Classic first thing New Year's Day. I did, though, because I'd heard that last year's Winter Classic outdoors in Buffalo, N.Y. was really amazing to watch. I barely find hockey interesting, let alone amazing. So, I tuned in out of curiosity. (I'd tune in to watch Julio Iglesias in concert on an iceberg is people said he was putting on an amazing show.)
There wasn't anything really different about the hockey match, beyond that it was being held outdoors. Quick flip to one of the meaningless college football bowl games...and, yeah, I know this doesn't have anything to do with the North Coast...and I see that ESPN's reporting that the Denver Post is reporting that the San Francisco Giants are "pursuing" free agent star Manny Ramirez.
And, like I just wrote, I know this doesn't have anything to do with Humboldt County or anything. It has something to do with blogging and writing and just writing and reporting.
I've only been a Giants fan since 1963, so I don't believe they'll do the right thing just because I read they are on ESPN. So...I get online and check the Denver Post. The Post baseball writer had, literally, a throw-away sentence at the end of his notes column stating that an anonymous source inside big league baseball said that the Giants are "pursuing" Ramirez.
Realizing a bat boy, equipment manager or the head of the grounds crew could be "an anonymous source inside big league baseball," I moved to MLBrumors.com -- a go-to spot to get a compilation of baseball notes, rumors and, sometimes, actual news. I go to the comments portion of the report...where one sentence became a story someone post on the rumors site...and read hundreds of comments from people who took the Giants/Manny story as the gospel truth.
That's what bugs me! Well, it bugs me that I'm technically a blogger...as opposed to a writer using a new forum to write about all kinds of things. It bugs me more that one sentence in a beat writer's column can become news and that the not-even-real news crosses the country like wildfire.
I checked Google news for Manny Ramirez stories and saw...links to blogs...commenting on the "story" that grew from one sentence in the Denver Post. Nobody reported anything. No one tried to shed light on how the rumor did or didn't tie into what the Giants have been saying they're willing to do to better the club. And, I guess, given that almost no one with a baseball blog seems to know anything about my Giants -- how could they shed any light on the rumor?
Nothing like a New Year's Day rant...but, I don't understand how people can write (or blog) about the same topic all the time. Oh, I know there are folks who check this spot for North Coast baseball stuff and then ignore everything else...and I'm even more aware the stories I write for my own amusement probably get overlooked. But...I just can't write about the same things all the time because I bore really easily. I'm easily distracted because...
What was I writing again?
Oh, I'm thinking about this all-time North Coast baseball team thing...and I'm always thinking about stories about stuff that went on back home...but, damn, I'm distracted by the fact that this Giants-Ramirez deal became a national story without a hint of journalism to be found.
Oh, journalism...how high and mighty are those people who call themselves "journalists" and talk about how they need to discuss things with "my editor." They bother me almost as much as bloggers...and, technically, I'm both a journalist and a blogger.
I laughed at the lead paragraph in the Times-Standard's piece about the top news stories of the North Coast year. It started with, "Journalists like lists." (Maybe "love lists," I forget.)
a) Who cares?
b) How is that sentence going to draw readers into the story?
c) It's editors who love lists, especially at the end of the year when there's no real news and lists of top stories, top personalities and best movies can fill pages that would otherwise be filled with wire stories about events in Iowa or Israel. (And, I'm in favor of us all paying attention to stories about the little fracas in Israel, right now.)
d) Lists have taking the place of writing in most newspapers.
e) See? I just made a list a, b, c, d, e...instead of actually explaining what bothers me about lists that get passed off as stories.
Happy New Year.
The game was played on an outdoor rink in the center of Wrigley Field in Chicago. The Red Wings were playing the Blackhawks and ...
OK, so almost no one would tune into the Winter Classic first thing New Year's Day. I did, though, because I'd heard that last year's Winter Classic outdoors in Buffalo, N.Y. was really amazing to watch. I barely find hockey interesting, let alone amazing. So, I tuned in out of curiosity. (I'd tune in to watch Julio Iglesias in concert on an iceberg is people said he was putting on an amazing show.)
There wasn't anything really different about the hockey match, beyond that it was being held outdoors. Quick flip to one of the meaningless college football bowl games...and, yeah, I know this doesn't have anything to do with the North Coast...and I see that ESPN's reporting that the Denver Post is reporting that the San Francisco Giants are "pursuing" free agent star Manny Ramirez.
And, like I just wrote, I know this doesn't have anything to do with Humboldt County or anything. It has something to do with blogging and writing and just writing and reporting.
I've only been a Giants fan since 1963, so I don't believe they'll do the right thing just because I read they are on ESPN. So...I get online and check the Denver Post. The Post baseball writer had, literally, a throw-away sentence at the end of his notes column stating that an anonymous source inside big league baseball said that the Giants are "pursuing" Ramirez.
Realizing a bat boy, equipment manager or the head of the grounds crew could be "an anonymous source inside big league baseball," I moved to MLBrumors.com -- a go-to spot to get a compilation of baseball notes, rumors and, sometimes, actual news. I go to the comments portion of the report...where one sentence became a story someone post on the rumors site...and read hundreds of comments from people who took the Giants/Manny story as the gospel truth.
That's what bugs me! Well, it bugs me that I'm technically a blogger...as opposed to a writer using a new forum to write about all kinds of things. It bugs me more that one sentence in a beat writer's column can become news and that the not-even-real news crosses the country like wildfire.
I checked Google news for Manny Ramirez stories and saw...links to blogs...commenting on the "story" that grew from one sentence in the Denver Post. Nobody reported anything. No one tried to shed light on how the rumor did or didn't tie into what the Giants have been saying they're willing to do to better the club. And, I guess, given that almost no one with a baseball blog seems to know anything about my Giants -- how could they shed any light on the rumor?
Nothing like a New Year's Day rant...but, I don't understand how people can write (or blog) about the same topic all the time. Oh, I know there are folks who check this spot for North Coast baseball stuff and then ignore everything else...and I'm even more aware the stories I write for my own amusement probably get overlooked. But...I just can't write about the same things all the time because I bore really easily. I'm easily distracted because...
What was I writing again?
Oh, I'm thinking about this all-time North Coast baseball team thing...and I'm always thinking about stories about stuff that went on back home...but, damn, I'm distracted by the fact that this Giants-Ramirez deal became a national story without a hint of journalism to be found.
Oh, journalism...how high and mighty are those people who call themselves "journalists" and talk about how they need to discuss things with "my editor." They bother me almost as much as bloggers...and, technically, I'm both a journalist and a blogger.
I laughed at the lead paragraph in the Times-Standard's piece about the top news stories of the North Coast year. It started with, "Journalists like lists." (Maybe "love lists," I forget.)
a) Who cares?
b) How is that sentence going to draw readers into the story?
c) It's editors who love lists, especially at the end of the year when there's no real news and lists of top stories, top personalities and best movies can fill pages that would otherwise be filled with wire stories about events in Iowa or Israel. (And, I'm in favor of us all paying attention to stories about the little fracas in Israel, right now.)
d) Lists have taking the place of writing in most newspapers.
e) See? I just made a list a, b, c, d, e...instead of actually explaining what bothers me about lists that get passed off as stories.
Happy New Year.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Brainstorming: My All-Time Baseball Team...Inc.
This isn't a definitive list...but, I spitballed a bit...and came up with this personal version of a skeleton all-time North Coast baseball team...no listing criteria, it's my team...the list is started to invited disagreements...
1b...Mark Lucich...no change from the team I picked in the 1990s for the newspaper. He was a classy, gifted, hard-working guy who seemed heroic to me in the late 1960s and early 1970s.
2b...Bob Bonomini...He was a star for the Crabs, started at second base, for a fair portion of my youth. I didn't even know he went to Fresno State, he could just rake and, despite lacking foot speed, played a sterling second base. I had to work with him as writer covering a coach...and my nephew and oldest son both played for him...but, Bonomini was always my childhood hero. I even used to mimic his batting stance when I played wiffle ball.
SS...Garth Iorg...at the time I played against them, I thought Roger Hawkins and Mike Dolf were far better players than Garth Iorg at Arcata High. And, really, everybody agreed with me about Mike Dolf...I happened to think Hawkins was better than either of them. But, heck, Iorg made it to the big leagues and that's rare for North Coast players.
3B...Scott Eskra..It's my list and, really, I thought Scott was the best hitter of his generation (the 1990s). He was a fine defensive third baseman and, I thought, ran the bases well. A tough kid I tried to get my own kids, and kids I coached, to pattern themselves after. He got to the University of Mississippi and starred. I hope the stories on the T/S Web site mentioning all the partying don't somehow result in Eskra being reduced in the minds of others to that of one of Eagles stars who partied and played and stuff. The others reached the point where they weren't good enough to play. One of his co-star infielders on the great Eagles teams got to College of the Redwoods and then coach Scott Dwyer told me, "He's not a college infielder. He can hit some, but he has no position." Eskra was different. He was special. I wish his story ended where Garth Iorg's story ended.
LF: Dane Iorg, Arcata...if you need an explanation, you shouldn't be reading this.
CF: Paul Ziegler, Fortuna...he was faster than the devil and as consistent a lefthanded top-of-the-order hitter I ever saw. He starred at Southern Cal. And, anyway, he wasn't always a big-shot in the world of finance in Humboldt County. He could really play.
RF: ... I don't want to fill this slot with just somebody who comes to mind...I'm still thinking it over...
C: ...again...still thinking...I thought Greg Kane, from Arcata, was great back in the '70s. But, and this is because I knew him, you couldn't go wrong with David Bills, who played at Eureka High and Chico State, in your lineup. He was born to catch and lead a team.
SP: I'd start with Eureka legend Billy Olson, the lefty, but...after him...it requires a great deal more thought...let's just say Olson would be my Game 1 starter...and my starter in any must-win game...
1b...Mark Lucich...no change from the team I picked in the 1990s for the newspaper. He was a classy, gifted, hard-working guy who seemed heroic to me in the late 1960s and early 1970s.
2b...Bob Bonomini...He was a star for the Crabs, started at second base, for a fair portion of my youth. I didn't even know he went to Fresno State, he could just rake and, despite lacking foot speed, played a sterling second base. I had to work with him as writer covering a coach...and my nephew and oldest son both played for him...but, Bonomini was always my childhood hero. I even used to mimic his batting stance when I played wiffle ball.
SS...Garth Iorg...at the time I played against them, I thought Roger Hawkins and Mike Dolf were far better players than Garth Iorg at Arcata High. And, really, everybody agreed with me about Mike Dolf...I happened to think Hawkins was better than either of them. But, heck, Iorg made it to the big leagues and that's rare for North Coast players.
3B...Scott Eskra..It's my list and, really, I thought Scott was the best hitter of his generation (the 1990s). He was a fine defensive third baseman and, I thought, ran the bases well. A tough kid I tried to get my own kids, and kids I coached, to pattern themselves after. He got to the University of Mississippi and starred. I hope the stories on the T/S Web site mentioning all the partying don't somehow result in Eskra being reduced in the minds of others to that of one of Eagles stars who partied and played and stuff. The others reached the point where they weren't good enough to play. One of his co-star infielders on the great Eagles teams got to College of the Redwoods and then coach Scott Dwyer told me, "He's not a college infielder. He can hit some, but he has no position." Eskra was different. He was special. I wish his story ended where Garth Iorg's story ended.
LF: Dane Iorg, Arcata...if you need an explanation, you shouldn't be reading this.
CF: Paul Ziegler, Fortuna...he was faster than the devil and as consistent a lefthanded top-of-the-order hitter I ever saw. He starred at Southern Cal. And, anyway, he wasn't always a big-shot in the world of finance in Humboldt County. He could really play.
RF: ... I don't want to fill this slot with just somebody who comes to mind...I'm still thinking it over...
C: ...again...still thinking...I thought Greg Kane, from Arcata, was great back in the '70s. But, and this is because I knew him, you couldn't go wrong with David Bills, who played at Eureka High and Chico State, in your lineup. He was born to catch and lead a team.
SP: I'd start with Eureka legend Billy Olson, the lefty, but...after him...it requires a great deal more thought...let's just say Olson would be my Game 1 starter...and my starter in any must-win game...
North Coast New Year's Memories...
Nothing screams Humboldt County like the arrival of New Year's Eve.
My memories of ... um ... ah ...
Those wild midnight celebrations where we ... oh ... we ...
My most vivid memory of New Year's Eve in Humboldt County involves little kids going outside at midnight to bang on pots and pans and, then, me cringing at the sound of gunfire. It was unsettling to consider that the new year's arrival was hailed by someone under the influence of alcohol using a firearm in a populated area. Gunshots don't rattle me nearly as much after living in the Bay Area for eight years.
My mom was a waitress who spent my early New Year's Eves working -- mostly at the Baywood Golf & Country Club, but some at the Eureka Inn. (I hope she was actually out partying and only telling me she was working so that I wouldn't insist I be allowed to come to the party, too.) So, I'd sit around all night messing with my Topps NFL football cards and then, one of goofy half-sisters would wake up my nieces and nephews from a dead sleep to go celebrate the arrival of the new year.
Later, much later, my oldest sons would actually stay awake -- they come from heartier stock than my half-sisters' kids -- until midnight. We'd usher them outside...they'd bang on the pots and pans, I'd cringe when I heard the gunfire...same thing, different year.
I was hit by a massive panic attack after Amy and I got back from a Clint Eastwood movie at the Eureka Theater, in the 1980s when it was cut up into a tri-plex type arrangement. There are feelings of panic and full on panic attacks that left me convinced I was dying -- and the granddaddy of panic attacks involved me staying up all night wishing I was dead. I greeted that New Year with a pulse rate of about 150 and the increasing sense I was having a heart attack.
Oh, I had my first sexual encounter on New Year's Eve in 1972...or 1973. (I warned Amy that she'd get mentioned here if she started reading this stuff.) My mom was babysitting for the McKeowns, who'd had move to then luxorious Lunbar Hills. Amy and I drank some beer that I'd scored from a guy who always got beer from his uncle or something.
Relax. I'm not going X-rated. Note I referred to a "sexual encounter." It couldn't possibly live up to the hype when two drunken 16-year-olds try to do the big nasty. Honest to God, I hadn't really thought about...what it entailed. Now, cripes, my 10-year-old daughter knows what goes where in the act of sexual intercourse. It was awkward and, I think, we just stopped because there was an element of physical discomfort involved.
I remember, too, that New Year's Eve because my mom called breathlessly to tell me that Orlando Cepeda, one of my favorite baseball players, had died in a plane crash taking food to the needy in Puerto Rico. Cepeda didn't do charity work...I was relieved to point out it wasn't him, but...it turned out, sadly, to be Roberto Clemente who'd been killed. (Small World Dept: Orlando Cepeda literally lives only a couple miles from me here in Fairfield now. The kids ran into him shopping at Safeway one day.)
There was a New Year's Eve in Portland, Ore. where Amy and I went out with Dennis Bills and his wife. I remember disco music and thinking, "You could never party like this in Eureka!" I also remember it snowing for all of December and into January and missing Humboldt County a great deal.
To show what New Year's Eve has meant to me, the only other real memorable one spent in Eureka came in the early 1990s. I went to a fairly big, fairly wild, party at the home of the 24-year-old girl I was ... involved with ... when I was a divorced 35-year-old. I remember it for three reasons:
1) I liked the young woman, but I spent the first couple hours of the party at a movie ("Tango & Cash") with Trent at the Bayshore Mall.
2) A bunch of kids I'd coached and knew to be under legal drinking age showed up and my insistence that letting them liquor up was ill-advised left me feeling like the adult chaperone at the party.
3) While the 24-year-old flirted around (the price of a grown man being involved with a younger, flightier woman) -- an absolutely beautiful, red-haired young woman began to chat me up. And, remember, I don't normally chat with much ease. But, I was ... smitten. Really. All of a sudden, the 24-year-old decides to invoke her involvedness on me. She pulls me aside and begins to chastise me for clearly being interested in the red-head. As I began to invoke the universal "It's a free country" defense...it was short-circuited with the revelation that the girl was barely 18 years old. She seemed much, much...well, I hadn't given any thought to hitting it off in that way with someone who might well have been in high school.
So, yeah, my North Coast New Year's memories leave a little to be desired.
Now, I'm 52...live close to places folks associate with big parties...and I'm still considering that I might turn out the lights about 8:30 tonight and just lay in my bedroom with the blankets pulled over my head.
My memories of ... um ... ah ...
Those wild midnight celebrations where we ... oh ... we ...
My most vivid memory of New Year's Eve in Humboldt County involves little kids going outside at midnight to bang on pots and pans and, then, me cringing at the sound of gunfire. It was unsettling to consider that the new year's arrival was hailed by someone under the influence of alcohol using a firearm in a populated area. Gunshots don't rattle me nearly as much after living in the Bay Area for eight years.
My mom was a waitress who spent my early New Year's Eves working -- mostly at the Baywood Golf & Country Club, but some at the Eureka Inn. (I hope she was actually out partying and only telling me she was working so that I wouldn't insist I be allowed to come to the party, too.) So, I'd sit around all night messing with my Topps NFL football cards and then, one of goofy half-sisters would wake up my nieces and nephews from a dead sleep to go celebrate the arrival of the new year.
Later, much later, my oldest sons would actually stay awake -- they come from heartier stock than my half-sisters' kids -- until midnight. We'd usher them outside...they'd bang on the pots and pans, I'd cringe when I heard the gunfire...same thing, different year.
I was hit by a massive panic attack after Amy and I got back from a Clint Eastwood movie at the Eureka Theater, in the 1980s when it was cut up into a tri-plex type arrangement. There are feelings of panic and full on panic attacks that left me convinced I was dying -- and the granddaddy of panic attacks involved me staying up all night wishing I was dead. I greeted that New Year with a pulse rate of about 150 and the increasing sense I was having a heart attack.
Oh, I had my first sexual encounter on New Year's Eve in 1972...or 1973. (I warned Amy that she'd get mentioned here if she started reading this stuff.) My mom was babysitting for the McKeowns, who'd had move to then luxorious Lunbar Hills. Amy and I drank some beer that I'd scored from a guy who always got beer from his uncle or something.
Relax. I'm not going X-rated. Note I referred to a "sexual encounter." It couldn't possibly live up to the hype when two drunken 16-year-olds try to do the big nasty. Honest to God, I hadn't really thought about...what it entailed. Now, cripes, my 10-year-old daughter knows what goes where in the act of sexual intercourse. It was awkward and, I think, we just stopped because there was an element of physical discomfort involved.
I remember, too, that New Year's Eve because my mom called breathlessly to tell me that Orlando Cepeda, one of my favorite baseball players, had died in a plane crash taking food to the needy in Puerto Rico. Cepeda didn't do charity work...I was relieved to point out it wasn't him, but...it turned out, sadly, to be Roberto Clemente who'd been killed. (Small World Dept: Orlando Cepeda literally lives only a couple miles from me here in Fairfield now. The kids ran into him shopping at Safeway one day.)
There was a New Year's Eve in Portland, Ore. where Amy and I went out with Dennis Bills and his wife. I remember disco music and thinking, "You could never party like this in Eureka!" I also remember it snowing for all of December and into January and missing Humboldt County a great deal.
To show what New Year's Eve has meant to me, the only other real memorable one spent in Eureka came in the early 1990s. I went to a fairly big, fairly wild, party at the home of the 24-year-old girl I was ... involved with ... when I was a divorced 35-year-old. I remember it for three reasons:
1) I liked the young woman, but I spent the first couple hours of the party at a movie ("Tango & Cash") with Trent at the Bayshore Mall.
2) A bunch of kids I'd coached and knew to be under legal drinking age showed up and my insistence that letting them liquor up was ill-advised left me feeling like the adult chaperone at the party.
3) While the 24-year-old flirted around (the price of a grown man being involved with a younger, flightier woman) -- an absolutely beautiful, red-haired young woman began to chat me up. And, remember, I don't normally chat with much ease. But, I was ... smitten. Really. All of a sudden, the 24-year-old decides to invoke her involvedness on me. She pulls me aside and begins to chastise me for clearly being interested in the red-head. As I began to invoke the universal "It's a free country" defense...it was short-circuited with the revelation that the girl was barely 18 years old. She seemed much, much...well, I hadn't given any thought to hitting it off in that way with someone who might well have been in high school.
So, yeah, my North Coast New Year's memories leave a little to be desired.
Now, I'm 52...live close to places folks associate with big parties...and I'm still considering that I might turn out the lights about 8:30 tonight and just lay in my bedroom with the blankets pulled over my head.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
John Jaso's Not 16: He's an All-Timer Now
John Jaso is every bit deserving of a spot on the North Coast all-time baseball team.
No doubt about it. No question. He starred at McKinleyville High School, went onto star at a community college and he reached the big league roster of the Tampa Bay Rays late last summer.
The damndest thing is that Jaso should've been the first guy I thought of as worthy of adding to the list I compiled when I worked up there at the newspaper...because he played for the Humboldt Dukes Junior American Legion coach that Duane Hagans and I started, and coached, in 1998 and 1999.
I had nothing to do with the sweet-swinging left-hand hitter's development into a star, into a big leaguer. But, he was on the team that no one can dispute was my brainchild. And, I did have the foresight to register the American Legion team as the Humboldt Dukes so as to potentially attract players to practices in Eureka — and Jaso did come to the Eureka-based team from McKinleyville. I also used great wisdom and listened to Roger Hawkins when he said, "There are a couple really good 15-year-olds in McKinleyville who could help the Dukes. One's name is John Jaso and..."
So, back to the all-time team, I didn't mention Jaso along with Nick Giacone because, in my mind, John Jaso's just a kid. It's hard to consider him an all-time, all-timer when it seems as though I just coached as a 15-year-old five minutes ago.
Jaso could do everything on a baseball diamond at 15 and, obviously, nothing changed as he grew older. And, clearly, he loved the game and did the things he needed to do to put the game first -- to show he respected the game he played so very well.
There might be one or two others I'd add to the all-time list using the criteria I came up with when the team ran under the newspaper's banner. Or, I might just eliminate the oldtimers I never saw play and do a list of my own -- with my own criteria.
No doubt about it. No question. He starred at McKinleyville High School, went onto star at a community college and he reached the big league roster of the Tampa Bay Rays late last summer.
The damndest thing is that Jaso should've been the first guy I thought of as worthy of adding to the list I compiled when I worked up there at the newspaper...because he played for the Humboldt Dukes Junior American Legion coach that Duane Hagans and I started, and coached, in 1998 and 1999.
I had nothing to do with the sweet-swinging left-hand hitter's development into a star, into a big leaguer. But, he was on the team that no one can dispute was my brainchild. And, I did have the foresight to register the American Legion team as the Humboldt Dukes so as to potentially attract players to practices in Eureka — and Jaso did come to the Eureka-based team from McKinleyville. I also used great wisdom and listened to Roger Hawkins when he said, "There are a couple really good 15-year-olds in McKinleyville who could help the Dukes. One's name is John Jaso and..."
So, back to the all-time team, I didn't mention Jaso along with Nick Giacone because, in my mind, John Jaso's just a kid. It's hard to consider him an all-time, all-timer when it seems as though I just coached as a 15-year-old five minutes ago.
Jaso could do everything on a baseball diamond at 15 and, obviously, nothing changed as he grew older. And, clearly, he loved the game and did the things he needed to do to put the game first -- to show he respected the game he played so very well.
There might be one or two others I'd add to the all-time list using the criteria I came up with when the team ran under the newspaper's banner. Or, I might just eliminate the oldtimers I never saw play and do a list of my own -- with my own criteria.
A Very Limited Husband
The defining scene in Clint Eastwood's "Dirty Harry" scenes, for me, wasn't one of the many that have gained elite status in pop culture. Not so much a fan of, "Go ahead...make my day," or "Feelin' lucky, punk?"
There's a scene in one film where Det. Harry Callahan's in the police chief's office getting reamed for stopping a crime and, in the process, shooting up the bulk of downtown San Francisco. The chief's a pencil-pushing, paper-shuffling geek and despises Callahan's more aggressive, pro-active approach to crimefighting. Callahan wants to beat a hole in the chief's face and, I figured, leaving him bloodied in his chair.
The chief's lecturing Callahan about proper police procedure and, I think, makes the mistake of telling Harry how he would have handled the crime scene. Harry does the Eastwood squint...shows absolute disgust for this ass trying to sit behind a desk and tell him how to do his job.
So, Harry slams his fist on the chief's desk and says, teeth clenched in that hushed, but threatening tone Eastwood uses: "A man's gotta know his limitations." Then, he spins around and leaves the chief flabbergasted.
From the moment I saw that scene, I took Dirty Harry's edict as a rule to live by. A man, this man ... I ... need to know my limitations.
It was a long journey from being the dorky kid who couldn't form sentences in a swimming pool with Nancy Nielsen in 1971 to falling in love early (twice, really,...slightly different levels of love, though)...to living with Amy...marrying Amy...divorcing...going through a "Big Lebowski" type experience at age 35 with a 24-year-old single mom named Carole (I was the Dude and the damndest people were in and out of my life whenever Carole was around and, more than once, saw things that left me saying something along the lines of "The Dude abides, man!" like the night a bunch of kids I'd coached showed up to have a few drinks at a New Year's Eve party at her house. Lebowski fans know that the Dude, who really doesn't know much, always winds up being the voice of reason in the company of people who don't seem to know anything.)
Then, the journey continued to living with Pam...Pam and I marrying...then we divorced...sometime around, oh, I don't know when, but I realized I had severe limitations as a husband or as a man on whom a woman could fairly rely on completely.
I actually became so aware of my strengths (a helluva guy to hang out with like a boyfriend...although no 52-year-old should ever call himself or be called a "boyfriend") that were attractive to women. Having been married and in a serious of committed relationships, I'm good at listening to women talk about their problems -- I only rarely try to fix them, which is something Oprah Winfrey says women enjoy.
My fatal flaw, however, is that I'm not a good husband. I'm a good dad. I breed well, apparently. I just can't get a handle on that 50-50 split of responsibility -- maybe because I'm irresponsible? I've never done more than argue loudly with a woman, and I didn't even argue with Amy in the decade-plus we were together. My biggest displays of temper were breaking a picture frame during my break-up with Amy and throwing a running shoe on the bedroom floor -- my best fastball -- arguing with Pam. (The shoe bounced up and hit the cheap closet door so hard it made a hole in it. Nice memory of what an ass I can be.)
When Tyren and Trent were born, I virtually stopped being a husband and became a dad with a wife. Man, that's brutally unfair to a woman, isn't it? Being a dad was easy. Being a husband, for me, was hard. That might be why I didn't think I'd ever get married. Oh, well...who knew Amy would be there to literally save my life when my mom died when I was 17? You know? When I vowed to remain single, I didn't consider a woman giving me the will to live.
I'm an only child of a single mom. So...can you imagine how many ballgames and stuff Amy had to sit through? She actually would go cover H-DNL football games with me when I first started at the Times-Standard. I have a photo of us somewhere, sitting side-by-side on top of a truck...her keeping stats and me jotting play-by-play...in the rain at a St. Bernard game at the Babe Ruth Field. Looking back, I think that was probably the type of moment from which a lifetime of devotion could've sprung.
I check out of relationships really easy, especially if I'm pushed to connect even more. Pam hates that I write about my personal life...but, I consider it a tutorial for young guys who read it. Don't do what I did. She also hates that I'd say whatever I thought she wanted to hear, even if I had no intention of doing what she wanted me to do. And, it bothers her that I thought doing a task was enough...doing it well, or like she wanted it done, was...too much trouble. I did some work in the garden for her once...she followed me in and re-did the job. Instead of apologizing or asking to help, I said, "I'll never work in the garden again." Very mature for a guy who was over 40 at the time.
As hurt as I was when Amy left, I look back and wonder what took her so long. She bounced around to low-level bank jobs because I bounced around looking for happiness that I really needed to find inside myself. Take me out of her life and Amy would be a high-powered bank executive today.
Pam wanted, and deserved, a grown-up for a husband. She wanted children...but, really, my vasectomy reversal and our two beautiful kids isn't exactly enough to allow me to say, "Hey...I did my part!" I didn't do enough and then, I broke the one vow I actually did hold sacred, and I left her. (I only moved around the corner, but a divorce is a divorce is a divorce.)
Amy wanted very, very little from a husband. And, I couldn't give it. I was hell on wheels as a boyfriend, though, I think. You'd have to ask her. Pam wanted a great deal from a husband and I couldn't come close and, I did try ... a little. As a beau...I rocked. I was different than her other guys. More stable. More mature. Didn't party. Then, we got married.
A man's gotta know his limitations. I wished I'd learned mine before my mid-40s.
There's a scene in one film where Det. Harry Callahan's in the police chief's office getting reamed for stopping a crime and, in the process, shooting up the bulk of downtown San Francisco. The chief's a pencil-pushing, paper-shuffling geek and despises Callahan's more aggressive, pro-active approach to crimefighting. Callahan wants to beat a hole in the chief's face and, I figured, leaving him bloodied in his chair.
The chief's lecturing Callahan about proper police procedure and, I think, makes the mistake of telling Harry how he would have handled the crime scene. Harry does the Eastwood squint...shows absolute disgust for this ass trying to sit behind a desk and tell him how to do his job.
So, Harry slams his fist on the chief's desk and says, teeth clenched in that hushed, but threatening tone Eastwood uses: "A man's gotta know his limitations." Then, he spins around and leaves the chief flabbergasted.
From the moment I saw that scene, I took Dirty Harry's edict as a rule to live by. A man, this man ... I ... need to know my limitations.
It was a long journey from being the dorky kid who couldn't form sentences in a swimming pool with Nancy Nielsen in 1971 to falling in love early (twice, really,...slightly different levels of love, though)...to living with Amy...marrying Amy...divorcing...going through a "Big Lebowski" type experience at age 35 with a 24-year-old single mom named Carole (I was the Dude and the damndest people were in and out of my life whenever Carole was around and, more than once, saw things that left me saying something along the lines of "The Dude abides, man!" like the night a bunch of kids I'd coached showed up to have a few drinks at a New Year's Eve party at her house. Lebowski fans know that the Dude, who really doesn't know much, always winds up being the voice of reason in the company of people who don't seem to know anything.)
Then, the journey continued to living with Pam...Pam and I marrying...then we divorced...sometime around, oh, I don't know when, but I realized I had severe limitations as a husband or as a man on whom a woman could fairly rely on completely.
I actually became so aware of my strengths (a helluva guy to hang out with like a boyfriend...although no 52-year-old should ever call himself or be called a "boyfriend") that were attractive to women. Having been married and in a serious of committed relationships, I'm good at listening to women talk about their problems -- I only rarely try to fix them, which is something Oprah Winfrey says women enjoy.
My fatal flaw, however, is that I'm not a good husband. I'm a good dad. I breed well, apparently. I just can't get a handle on that 50-50 split of responsibility -- maybe because I'm irresponsible? I've never done more than argue loudly with a woman, and I didn't even argue with Amy in the decade-plus we were together. My biggest displays of temper were breaking a picture frame during my break-up with Amy and throwing a running shoe on the bedroom floor -- my best fastball -- arguing with Pam. (The shoe bounced up and hit the cheap closet door so hard it made a hole in it. Nice memory of what an ass I can be.)
When Tyren and Trent were born, I virtually stopped being a husband and became a dad with a wife. Man, that's brutally unfair to a woman, isn't it? Being a dad was easy. Being a husband, for me, was hard. That might be why I didn't think I'd ever get married. Oh, well...who knew Amy would be there to literally save my life when my mom died when I was 17? You know? When I vowed to remain single, I didn't consider a woman giving me the will to live.
I'm an only child of a single mom. So...can you imagine how many ballgames and stuff Amy had to sit through? She actually would go cover H-DNL football games with me when I first started at the Times-Standard. I have a photo of us somewhere, sitting side-by-side on top of a truck...her keeping stats and me jotting play-by-play...in the rain at a St. Bernard game at the Babe Ruth Field. Looking back, I think that was probably the type of moment from which a lifetime of devotion could've sprung.
I check out of relationships really easy, especially if I'm pushed to connect even more. Pam hates that I write about my personal life...but, I consider it a tutorial for young guys who read it. Don't do what I did. She also hates that I'd say whatever I thought she wanted to hear, even if I had no intention of doing what she wanted me to do. And, it bothers her that I thought doing a task was enough...doing it well, or like she wanted it done, was...too much trouble. I did some work in the garden for her once...she followed me in and re-did the job. Instead of apologizing or asking to help, I said, "I'll never work in the garden again." Very mature for a guy who was over 40 at the time.
As hurt as I was when Amy left, I look back and wonder what took her so long. She bounced around to low-level bank jobs because I bounced around looking for happiness that I really needed to find inside myself. Take me out of her life and Amy would be a high-powered bank executive today.
Pam wanted, and deserved, a grown-up for a husband. She wanted children...but, really, my vasectomy reversal and our two beautiful kids isn't exactly enough to allow me to say, "Hey...I did my part!" I didn't do enough and then, I broke the one vow I actually did hold sacred, and I left her. (I only moved around the corner, but a divorce is a divorce is a divorce.)
Amy wanted very, very little from a husband. And, I couldn't give it. I was hell on wheels as a boyfriend, though, I think. You'd have to ask her. Pam wanted a great deal from a husband and I couldn't come close and, I did try ... a little. As a beau...I rocked. I was different than her other guys. More stable. More mature. Didn't party. Then, we got married.
A man's gotta know his limitations. I wished I'd learned mine before my mid-40s.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Some Notable Athletes I Knew...
There are all kinds of memories about North Coast sports stuff that I knew I would never be able to tell. And, damn if they aren't some of the best stories.
For two of the years I was particularly lost and confused, to the point my first wife most justifiably left me, I was a part-time P.E. teacher at Cutten School and a 7th grade boys basketball coach at Winship Junior High School. It would've been about the best time in my life...if I had stuck to my pledge to go to college, finish my degree and become an actual reliable, adult husband. As usual, I let Amy take care of the hard stuff and I did the fun stuff...and, eventually, I had to do the hard stuff and the fun stuff when she left our marriage. It must've been hard carrying me on her shoulders for years.
I had the good fortune to get to know, and coach, an extraordinary collection of kids who went on to be famously known H-DNL athletes. The first class of Cutten sixth-graders was highlighted by Shawn Thompson. I did P.E. classes for kids from third grade on up, but I most enjoyed the older kids. Being a bit more "coach" than "teacher," I used to marvel at how clearly the great athletes stand out -- in action and attitude -- from the rest.
Thompson, and a fifth-grader named Mike Mari, took every single activity in every single P.E. class as a test...a challenge. It didn't matter if they were running a mile or playing disc soccer -- they gave it 100 percent and insisted everybody else at least try their best. Jason Morrow was in Thompson's age group -- like Mari, he went on to be a sports star at St. Bernard. Thompson, of course, became a baseball-football star at Eureka. I think some of my popularity with kids who hated P.E. came from letting them do their own thing. Actually, I enjoyed paying more attention to Thompson, Morrow and classmates like Brandon Banducci.
I used to think of sports-related things those kids could do because...they enjoyed sports-related P.E. games. I turned the President's Physical Fitness tests into a school-wide competition. I believe a sixth-grader named Liz Smith ran the fastest 50-yard dash and Thompson couldn't believe. Liz could run. Thompson must've made me time him 20 times to see if he could run a better time. (He eventually did, but I didn't tell him until he'd run his absolute best. How far would he push himself, I wondered?)
Mari just stood out as a leader. There are kids who don't like "jocks." People didn't look at young Michael as a "jock" so much as an athletic kid who followed the rules, played hard and didn't do things to hurt others. Surprise! Mari's a college football coach after a great football career at St. Bernard and Humboldt State. Leaders are born...and their families nurture that which they were born with.
That first Winship team I coached had a kid named Don Ciancio -- who happened to be a youth football quarterback who eventually played varsity football as a sophomore at Eureka High. He actually had limited athletic ability compared to Thompson, who was just stronger, faster and tougher than everybody else. But, Don was a winner, you know? He absorbed whatever I tried to teach the team and busted his ass every single day.
It was my personal pledge to try to develop kids who, maybe, weren't naturally the biggest, strongest kids. So, I didn't take Ciancio and make him a point guard. I grew immediately attached to crew-cut, wildly willing Ross Killingsworth...and he became a 7th grade point guard who pleased everybody, all the time, but never seemed pleased with himself. Gosh, he tried so hard. It was impossible not to like him. Guys like Ross, and there were a few, sent me hustling to learn more and more and more about basketball so that I could teach them more than I came to practice knowing.
Ryan Baum? When I saw his name on the tryout list, I thought, "I went to school with his mom and dad!" So, I was ready to make sure I didn't favor Ryan. He made it impossible not to favor him because he curried favor with his athletic ability and desire. He had a fire not all little kids had. And, I believe, he played second base when Thompson played shortstop for a truly great Humboldt Eagles baseball team.
It made me laugh when people would write or otherwise bitch that I didn't like the Eagles, didn't pull for them. One of my favorite Winship basketball kids was Scott Eskra...arguably the North Coast's best baseball player of the 1990s and biggest star on that great Eagles team.
I'd followed Eskra through Little League. So, I knew he was athletic. I didn't know if he could play basketball, but...in seventh grade in Eureka...back in the 1990s you picked athletes and winners and tried to use what they could do to win games. Eskra wasn't one of the top five basketball players, and everybody knew it, but he started for us because I suspected he'd be on top of any loose ball before everybody else on the court could blink. He was ... again ... a winner.
We never beat Zane! In two years, we beat everybody else -- avenged every loss. We never beat Zane. The Falcons had great teams and Duane Peterson was a superior coach. My teams were at a coaching disadvantage, obviously.
I've never seen a better kid athlete than Shawn Thompson...and I probably never will. Now, the "star" kids are entitled and they don't listen to anybody except former pro and college players who get paid to coach. Thompson listened to anybody who might help him and his team win. The same held for Morrow, Killingsworth, Banducci, Baum, Ciancio, Eskra, Mari and a bunch of others I knew as kids and had to root for (quietly) from afar in their high school careers.
Morrow, Banducci, Baum, Eskra...wasn't that the bulk of the great Eagles teams in the 1990s? Oh, no...I didn't like the Eagles. Of course, to me, they were Winship basketball players...
I loved coaching kids like that because they inspired me to learn more so they could learn more. Nothing bothers me more than coaches who only teach what they learned in 1974, you know? I read books and studied videos because, obviously, the sky was the limit for those kids ... if their coach could keep up.
I'm sure I'm forgetting kids who should be mentioned. But, I have to mention a kid who tested me, challenged me, questioned me and did every single thing I asked -- thus leading his Winship team past better teams. He wasn't a fanastically skilled basketball player, and he wasn't afraid to question the coach, but ... he had swagger before swagger was cool. His name was Eric Karjola. Man, that guy was something else! I remember arguing with him on the bench, then him going out and playing harder than ever.
I have no problem with kids questioning me. I mean, if I couldn't explain why a 1-3-1 zone trap was going to work better than man-to-man...what kind of coach was I? Eric Karjola would ask me to explain it...sometimes during timeouts in the fourth quarter.
These kids followed me, or I followed them, from basketball to baseball for a couple years. I remember helping coach a Babe Ruth All-Star team. I was the nominal pitching coach, pushed on a staff of guys who didn't know me or care what I knew. At any rate, Ciancio pitched the first game over in Weed...Eureka won. (Jay Brauning was our second baseman. There's a North Coast baseball kid who should've been playing in this era when the only thing keeping you from learning is your willingness to find knowledgable coaches. Brauning was amazing.) So, we go through the weekend with the guys who run the team pitching the kids they liked and relied on all year.
We finally lost a tournament game and faced elimination. I'd mentioned that Eric Karjola hadn't pitched yet. Nothing. The guys went back and forth about maybe pitching Shawn Thompson -- who utterly and openly hated pitching, even though he did it well enough in Babe Ruth League baseball. Finally, I said, "Look...the kids are tired. They're looking for a reason to lose. We need somebody who can't believe you can beat him on the mound tomorrow. And, I'm telling you, Karjola's the only guy we have who believes the other team can't beat him."
The guys I coached with were OK with starting Eric...if I swore to get him ready, warm him up, talk to him before the game and stay on him as long as he pitched. They weren't big fans of his swagger or his questions, I guess. But...Karjola got to pitch.
I remember it being like 106 degrees and thinking, "This is an impossible situation to throw Eric into!" I can't remember who won, in part because I only remember Karjola's response to me telling him he was going to start that game. He snapped, "It's about time!"
Save that I lost my first wife and wound up living in a one-bedroom apartment with my two sons, those were glorious times. In fact, my sons love the memory of the tiny apartment because they connect it to memories of all the kids mentioned here. These kids were my kids' heroes.
That's something you'd only get in Humboldt County.
For two of the years I was particularly lost and confused, to the point my first wife most justifiably left me, I was a part-time P.E. teacher at Cutten School and a 7th grade boys basketball coach at Winship Junior High School. It would've been about the best time in my life...if I had stuck to my pledge to go to college, finish my degree and become an actual reliable, adult husband. As usual, I let Amy take care of the hard stuff and I did the fun stuff...and, eventually, I had to do the hard stuff and the fun stuff when she left our marriage. It must've been hard carrying me on her shoulders for years.
I had the good fortune to get to know, and coach, an extraordinary collection of kids who went on to be famously known H-DNL athletes. The first class of Cutten sixth-graders was highlighted by Shawn Thompson. I did P.E. classes for kids from third grade on up, but I most enjoyed the older kids. Being a bit more "coach" than "teacher," I used to marvel at how clearly the great athletes stand out -- in action and attitude -- from the rest.
Thompson, and a fifth-grader named Mike Mari, took every single activity in every single P.E. class as a test...a challenge. It didn't matter if they were running a mile or playing disc soccer -- they gave it 100 percent and insisted everybody else at least try their best. Jason Morrow was in Thompson's age group -- like Mari, he went on to be a sports star at St. Bernard. Thompson, of course, became a baseball-football star at Eureka. I think some of my popularity with kids who hated P.E. came from letting them do their own thing. Actually, I enjoyed paying more attention to Thompson, Morrow and classmates like Brandon Banducci.
I used to think of sports-related things those kids could do because...they enjoyed sports-related P.E. games. I turned the President's Physical Fitness tests into a school-wide competition. I believe a sixth-grader named Liz Smith ran the fastest 50-yard dash and Thompson couldn't believe. Liz could run. Thompson must've made me time him 20 times to see if he could run a better time. (He eventually did, but I didn't tell him until he'd run his absolute best. How far would he push himself, I wondered?)
Mari just stood out as a leader. There are kids who don't like "jocks." People didn't look at young Michael as a "jock" so much as an athletic kid who followed the rules, played hard and didn't do things to hurt others. Surprise! Mari's a college football coach after a great football career at St. Bernard and Humboldt State. Leaders are born...and their families nurture that which they were born with.
That first Winship team I coached had a kid named Don Ciancio -- who happened to be a youth football quarterback who eventually played varsity football as a sophomore at Eureka High. He actually had limited athletic ability compared to Thompson, who was just stronger, faster and tougher than everybody else. But, Don was a winner, you know? He absorbed whatever I tried to teach the team and busted his ass every single day.
It was my personal pledge to try to develop kids who, maybe, weren't naturally the biggest, strongest kids. So, I didn't take Ciancio and make him a point guard. I grew immediately attached to crew-cut, wildly willing Ross Killingsworth...and he became a 7th grade point guard who pleased everybody, all the time, but never seemed pleased with himself. Gosh, he tried so hard. It was impossible not to like him. Guys like Ross, and there were a few, sent me hustling to learn more and more and more about basketball so that I could teach them more than I came to practice knowing.
Ryan Baum? When I saw his name on the tryout list, I thought, "I went to school with his mom and dad!" So, I was ready to make sure I didn't favor Ryan. He made it impossible not to favor him because he curried favor with his athletic ability and desire. He had a fire not all little kids had. And, I believe, he played second base when Thompson played shortstop for a truly great Humboldt Eagles baseball team.
It made me laugh when people would write or otherwise bitch that I didn't like the Eagles, didn't pull for them. One of my favorite Winship basketball kids was Scott Eskra...arguably the North Coast's best baseball player of the 1990s and biggest star on that great Eagles team.
I'd followed Eskra through Little League. So, I knew he was athletic. I didn't know if he could play basketball, but...in seventh grade in Eureka...back in the 1990s you picked athletes and winners and tried to use what they could do to win games. Eskra wasn't one of the top five basketball players, and everybody knew it, but he started for us because I suspected he'd be on top of any loose ball before everybody else on the court could blink. He was ... again ... a winner.
We never beat Zane! In two years, we beat everybody else -- avenged every loss. We never beat Zane. The Falcons had great teams and Duane Peterson was a superior coach. My teams were at a coaching disadvantage, obviously.
I've never seen a better kid athlete than Shawn Thompson...and I probably never will. Now, the "star" kids are entitled and they don't listen to anybody except former pro and college players who get paid to coach. Thompson listened to anybody who might help him and his team win. The same held for Morrow, Killingsworth, Banducci, Baum, Ciancio, Eskra, Mari and a bunch of others I knew as kids and had to root for (quietly) from afar in their high school careers.
Morrow, Banducci, Baum, Eskra...wasn't that the bulk of the great Eagles teams in the 1990s? Oh, no...I didn't like the Eagles. Of course, to me, they were Winship basketball players...
I loved coaching kids like that because they inspired me to learn more so they could learn more. Nothing bothers me more than coaches who only teach what they learned in 1974, you know? I read books and studied videos because, obviously, the sky was the limit for those kids ... if their coach could keep up.
I'm sure I'm forgetting kids who should be mentioned. But, I have to mention a kid who tested me, challenged me, questioned me and did every single thing I asked -- thus leading his Winship team past better teams. He wasn't a fanastically skilled basketball player, and he wasn't afraid to question the coach, but ... he had swagger before swagger was cool. His name was Eric Karjola. Man, that guy was something else! I remember arguing with him on the bench, then him going out and playing harder than ever.
I have no problem with kids questioning me. I mean, if I couldn't explain why a 1-3-1 zone trap was going to work better than man-to-man...what kind of coach was I? Eric Karjola would ask me to explain it...sometimes during timeouts in the fourth quarter.
These kids followed me, or I followed them, from basketball to baseball for a couple years. I remember helping coach a Babe Ruth All-Star team. I was the nominal pitching coach, pushed on a staff of guys who didn't know me or care what I knew. At any rate, Ciancio pitched the first game over in Weed...Eureka won. (Jay Brauning was our second baseman. There's a North Coast baseball kid who should've been playing in this era when the only thing keeping you from learning is your willingness to find knowledgable coaches. Brauning was amazing.) So, we go through the weekend with the guys who run the team pitching the kids they liked and relied on all year.
We finally lost a tournament game and faced elimination. I'd mentioned that Eric Karjola hadn't pitched yet. Nothing. The guys went back and forth about maybe pitching Shawn Thompson -- who utterly and openly hated pitching, even though he did it well enough in Babe Ruth League baseball. Finally, I said, "Look...the kids are tired. They're looking for a reason to lose. We need somebody who can't believe you can beat him on the mound tomorrow. And, I'm telling you, Karjola's the only guy we have who believes the other team can't beat him."
The guys I coached with were OK with starting Eric...if I swore to get him ready, warm him up, talk to him before the game and stay on him as long as he pitched. They weren't big fans of his swagger or his questions, I guess. But...Karjola got to pitch.
I remember it being like 106 degrees and thinking, "This is an impossible situation to throw Eric into!" I can't remember who won, in part because I only remember Karjola's response to me telling him he was going to start that game. He snapped, "It's about time!"
Save that I lost my first wife and wound up living in a one-bedroom apartment with my two sons, those were glorious times. In fact, my sons love the memory of the tiny apartment because they connect it to memories of all the kids mentioned here. These kids were my kids' heroes.
That's something you'd only get in Humboldt County.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Christmas and a girlfriend
Remember when Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were days you only left home, and family, for real emergencies? Well, you left home with family to go visit family...but you didn't go hang with friends or go to the movies.
I went out on Christmas Eve to buy my first girlfriend a gift -- because I didn't know I hadn't known in advance that I should've bought one until her step-mom mentioned it to my mom.
"Karen bought Ted a gift," Mrs. McKeown told my mom.
"Get yer' ass dressed because the McKeowns are going to Daly's. Here's $10!" was my mom's response to me. "Don't buy anything stupid."
I waded through crowded Daly's in the late afternoon and bought a choker I'd have bet money was a nice necklace. I hated every minute of the trip because I was only buying the gift because Karen had bought me something. I was 15 and clueless about how girls and boys relate. I felt it presumptuos to buy her anything because...you know...were we a couple? Or, had we just got to the Eureka High Christmas Prom in 1971? These were questions that haunted me then. And, honestly, I really, really, really like Karen McKeown...but, I couldn't believe any girl really liked me -- even if we did share laughs, talk and do things I enjoyed ... my self-esteem wasn't high, not even after Karen became the first girl I ever kissed...in the McKeown's family room, with their bitchin' Peanuts Christmas Carol lawn display visible through the kitchen window.
Karen was spending Christmas with her dad Jerry McKeown at my pal Berk's house, I got a holiday furlough to go exchange gifts with Karen who, my mom assured me, was probably figuring herself to be my "girlfriend." Remember, now, I'd spent a couple hours finding an ugly choker I thought was a nice necklace, OK? So, I was anxious to get over there and ... just see her. Once I found a girl I could talk to, it sort of changed my interest level in girls overall.
I rode my 10-speed over to Christmas Carol Lane, much more excited about the prospect of having a "girlfriend" I enjoyed being around than about the lawn displays.
So, I get to the McKeowns and Karen's gift was...a salami. She'd noticed I ate the bulk of the salami on the appetizer tray when I'd eaten dinner out with the McKeowns. So, she bought me...a salami. I questioned the whole girlfriend-boyfriend thing because...a salami? Then, I gave her the necklace and put it on and said, "Oh...a choker," that came out sounding more like, "Eww gawwwd...who'd wear this choker?"
So, my first trip outside the family for Christmas didn't go so hot, but I did it to please her -- er, after my mom said I should please her -- and because, hey, I liked pleasing her.
As it turned out, Karen is a thoughtful yet sometimes harried shopper to this day. She's got this giant family. So, now, I know she probably got frazzled (at 14 1/2 in 1971) and thought, "He likes salami...OK. Now, what about my little brother's gift?" The sight of her wheeling a cart frantically through Target in Lincoln the other day was quite something. My 10-year-old daughter and I were there for support, I guess, and to help her buy really, really last-minute gifts.
I figured that gift exchange in 1971 would be a one-time thing that killed the deal for both of us. On Wednesday, I sort of thought that going out shopping and later wrapping gifts for her was one of those things that would make a man more appealing...something that would seal deals, not break them. And, my mom wasn't even there to point that out to me! I figured it out on my own. I thought incorrectly, but my heart was in the right place.
There's a really interesting story in there about how I wound up shopping on Christmas Eve 2008 with the my first girlfriend -- whom I didn't see or speak to really at all from 1973 to 2004.
Well, it's interesting to me.
I went out on Christmas Eve to buy my first girlfriend a gift -- because I didn't know I hadn't known in advance that I should've bought one until her step-mom mentioned it to my mom.
"Karen bought Ted a gift," Mrs. McKeown told my mom.
"Get yer' ass dressed because the McKeowns are going to Daly's. Here's $10!" was my mom's response to me. "Don't buy anything stupid."
I waded through crowded Daly's in the late afternoon and bought a choker I'd have bet money was a nice necklace. I hated every minute of the trip because I was only buying the gift because Karen had bought me something. I was 15 and clueless about how girls and boys relate. I felt it presumptuos to buy her anything because...you know...were we a couple? Or, had we just got to the Eureka High Christmas Prom in 1971? These were questions that haunted me then. And, honestly, I really, really, really like Karen McKeown...but, I couldn't believe any girl really liked me -- even if we did share laughs, talk and do things I enjoyed ... my self-esteem wasn't high, not even after Karen became the first girl I ever kissed...in the McKeown's family room, with their bitchin' Peanuts Christmas Carol lawn display visible through the kitchen window.
Karen was spending Christmas with her dad Jerry McKeown at my pal Berk's house, I got a holiday furlough to go exchange gifts with Karen who, my mom assured me, was probably figuring herself to be my "girlfriend." Remember, now, I'd spent a couple hours finding an ugly choker I thought was a nice necklace, OK? So, I was anxious to get over there and ... just see her. Once I found a girl I could talk to, it sort of changed my interest level in girls overall.
I rode my 10-speed over to Christmas Carol Lane, much more excited about the prospect of having a "girlfriend" I enjoyed being around than about the lawn displays.
So, I get to the McKeowns and Karen's gift was...a salami. She'd noticed I ate the bulk of the salami on the appetizer tray when I'd eaten dinner out with the McKeowns. So, she bought me...a salami. I questioned the whole girlfriend-boyfriend thing because...a salami? Then, I gave her the necklace and put it on and said, "Oh...a choker," that came out sounding more like, "Eww gawwwd...who'd wear this choker?"
So, my first trip outside the family for Christmas didn't go so hot, but I did it to please her -- er, after my mom said I should please her -- and because, hey, I liked pleasing her.
As it turned out, Karen is a thoughtful yet sometimes harried shopper to this day. She's got this giant family. So, now, I know she probably got frazzled (at 14 1/2 in 1971) and thought, "He likes salami...OK. Now, what about my little brother's gift?" The sight of her wheeling a cart frantically through Target in Lincoln the other day was quite something. My 10-year-old daughter and I were there for support, I guess, and to help her buy really, really last-minute gifts.
I figured that gift exchange in 1971 would be a one-time thing that killed the deal for both of us. On Wednesday, I sort of thought that going out shopping and later wrapping gifts for her was one of those things that would make a man more appealing...something that would seal deals, not break them. And, my mom wasn't even there to point that out to me! I figured it out on my own. I thought incorrectly, but my heart was in the right place.
There's a really interesting story in there about how I wound up shopping on Christmas Eve 2008 with the my first girlfriend -- whom I didn't see or speak to really at all from 1973 to 2004.
Well, it's interesting to me.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Basketball: A City Game...And This Isn't Eureka
Trying out for the 7th grade basketball team was a rite of passage at North Coast schools for time in memoriam. I barely squeaked onto the 7th and 8th grade teams a hundred years ago at Winship in Eureka. My oldest son earned a spot on some type of "reserve squad" at Zane in 7th grade and quickly realized his basketball days were done. His brother Trent got cut from the Zane 7th grade team, but came back to make the club and play sparingly in 8th grade.
In between, I coached at Winship for a couple years. Junior high, or middle school, basketball is really a big deal in Humboldt County. I miss that living in Solano County because -- basketball's a city game and AAU teams and really competitive youth leagues make preparation for becoming a basketballer in Eureka over the years seem prehistoric.
I couldn't shoot -- at all. I know why coach Warren Smith didn't play me except during garbage time at Winship my first two years. I thanked God that Coach Smith kept 15 players on the roster. That's unheard of today. In 9th grade, I'd matured physically and Winship coach Rudy Diaz grew aggravated our our key guards' complete inability to defend Jacobs stars Simon Abittan and John Zink. They were good athlete, scorers, aggressive...and Abittan was a shooter.
Diaz called me to him in the second quarter of a game at Winship where Jacobs -- particularly Zink -- was killing us. Abittan killed everybody with a silky smooth jumper. Diaz told me to do whatever was necessary to keep Zink from scoring. Diaz told me he didn't want to shooting or handling the ball...just wanted me to see if I could defend Zink.
I'd never been in a game that early. But, I'd watched enough NBA on TV to know that the best defense was physical and in-your-face. Fouls? Who cared? I noted that great defenders threw scorers off their game any way they could. With no discernible basketball skill, I became the team's defensive stopper that day.
I managed to quiet Zink, with liberal use of fouls, bumps and use of my hands. (Suddenly having some athletic ability was a boon to my hoop career.) At one point, Glenn Matsen got in foul trouble for us and Diaz put me on Abittan. I remembered thinking, "I'm guarding the best player in town...with the game on the line." I banged and bumped and, while nobody stopped Simon, I made it hard on him.
I also fouled out in just 2 quarters of play. But, I'd made my mark. I'd also sat in a huddle, with the game tied, and heard Diaz design a play that ended with, "Sillanpaa! I don't want you shooting the ball! No matter what!" I agreed completely.
On the North Coast, back then and even into the 1990s, there weren't many refined basketball players in junior high or even early high school action. So, a guard (like me) who was willing to play hard defense -- accentutate his positives and conceal his negatives -- could get some attention.
Boy, it's not like that in my new home area now.
My 13-year-old son's fixing to tryout for the middle school 7th grade team in January. He's the 5-foot-11, 155-pound kid who would be an automatic to make a North Coast junior high team. He's a mediocre shooter and not so good handling the ball. He really hasn't played much and when he has played...he was totally overshadowed by inner-city (read: African-American kids) who live for hoops like my son lives for baseball.
Kellen, my youngest, is the most athletic of us all. He's actually got some explosion ...he jumps pretty good, if he were trying out at Sunny Brae or Winship...he's willing to mix it up...but, we can't convince him that he can't compete if he insists of playing the city game and take the ball out by the 3-point arc and try to make magic. But...the game's played out there by literal children with mad handles. And, under the hoop, his ability to leap...and his size...are offset by kids who, I swear, can jump out of the gym.
I saw 5th and 6th graders who could leap more quicly and higher than any 7th grader I ever saw on the North Coast. They have a knowledge of the modern, perhaps less team-oriented game, you know? So, while my youngest son would likely be a sure bet to make a North Coast team...he's in a pretty gray area making his team down here.
White kids don't do much on school teams down here. To mimic Chris Rock, "That's right! I said it! It a game African-American kids dominate down here."
So...what can we do to prepare my son?
He can't do what I did and get in a guy's grill defensively...the kid'll go between the legs and blow past him.
He can't use his leaping ability because there'll be guys who can leap better.
Heaven knows...he can't make the team as a scorer.
So...he can be really physical (which will make him unpopular)...hope the coach has some understanding that role players have value...set screens...help on defense...he'll have to figure out his strengths and hide his weaknesses.
My son really wants to be a basketball player. He could skip it, knowing it's tough for him to compete here, to say, "I want to concentrate on baseball." He wants to play 2, 3 sports. I like that!
If he were trying out in Humboldt County, he'd be on the team...as the big, athletic kid who scores 14 a game and gets 15 rebounds...without getting more than 10 feet from the hoop. He'd be a game-changer on defense because there aren't many athletic taller kids (he's not going to be a "tall kid" much longer, he's about done growing) back home.
Down here...he's trying to figure out how to just make the team.
It's a city game and the kids he'll compete for spots with aren't coming out of Youth Hoopsters rec leagues...they've been playing AAU ball, etc.
Come to think of it, while I think he'll figure out a way to make a mark in tryouts, I think lots of kids become one-sports athletes really early because they're afraid of getting cut trying a sport they aren't sure they're very good at...and their parents let them. On the North Coast, the top athletes try everything and learn which sports they're best at...which is how it should be.
Basketball's a city game. My son's a real North Coast baller. Be interesting to see how it all shakes out.
In between, I coached at Winship for a couple years. Junior high, or middle school, basketball is really a big deal in Humboldt County. I miss that living in Solano County because -- basketball's a city game and AAU teams and really competitive youth leagues make preparation for becoming a basketballer in Eureka over the years seem prehistoric.
I couldn't shoot -- at all. I know why coach Warren Smith didn't play me except during garbage time at Winship my first two years. I thanked God that Coach Smith kept 15 players on the roster. That's unheard of today. In 9th grade, I'd matured physically and Winship coach Rudy Diaz grew aggravated our our key guards' complete inability to defend Jacobs stars Simon Abittan and John Zink. They were good athlete, scorers, aggressive...and Abittan was a shooter.
Diaz called me to him in the second quarter of a game at Winship where Jacobs -- particularly Zink -- was killing us. Abittan killed everybody with a silky smooth jumper. Diaz told me to do whatever was necessary to keep Zink from scoring. Diaz told me he didn't want to shooting or handling the ball...just wanted me to see if I could defend Zink.
I'd never been in a game that early. But, I'd watched enough NBA on TV to know that the best defense was physical and in-your-face. Fouls? Who cared? I noted that great defenders threw scorers off their game any way they could. With no discernible basketball skill, I became the team's defensive stopper that day.
I managed to quiet Zink, with liberal use of fouls, bumps and use of my hands. (Suddenly having some athletic ability was a boon to my hoop career.) At one point, Glenn Matsen got in foul trouble for us and Diaz put me on Abittan. I remembered thinking, "I'm guarding the best player in town...with the game on the line." I banged and bumped and, while nobody stopped Simon, I made it hard on him.
I also fouled out in just 2 quarters of play. But, I'd made my mark. I'd also sat in a huddle, with the game tied, and heard Diaz design a play that ended with, "Sillanpaa! I don't want you shooting the ball! No matter what!" I agreed completely.
On the North Coast, back then and even into the 1990s, there weren't many refined basketball players in junior high or even early high school action. So, a guard (like me) who was willing to play hard defense -- accentutate his positives and conceal his negatives -- could get some attention.
Boy, it's not like that in my new home area now.
My 13-year-old son's fixing to tryout for the middle school 7th grade team in January. He's the 5-foot-11, 155-pound kid who would be an automatic to make a North Coast junior high team. He's a mediocre shooter and not so good handling the ball. He really hasn't played much and when he has played...he was totally overshadowed by inner-city (read: African-American kids) who live for hoops like my son lives for baseball.
Kellen, my youngest, is the most athletic of us all. He's actually got some explosion ...he jumps pretty good, if he were trying out at Sunny Brae or Winship...he's willing to mix it up...but, we can't convince him that he can't compete if he insists of playing the city game and take the ball out by the 3-point arc and try to make magic. But...the game's played out there by literal children with mad handles. And, under the hoop, his ability to leap...and his size...are offset by kids who, I swear, can jump out of the gym.
I saw 5th and 6th graders who could leap more quicly and higher than any 7th grader I ever saw on the North Coast. They have a knowledge of the modern, perhaps less team-oriented game, you know? So, while my youngest son would likely be a sure bet to make a North Coast team...he's in a pretty gray area making his team down here.
White kids don't do much on school teams down here. To mimic Chris Rock, "That's right! I said it! It a game African-American kids dominate down here."
So...what can we do to prepare my son?
He can't do what I did and get in a guy's grill defensively...the kid'll go between the legs and blow past him.
He can't use his leaping ability because there'll be guys who can leap better.
Heaven knows...he can't make the team as a scorer.
So...he can be really physical (which will make him unpopular)...hope the coach has some understanding that role players have value...set screens...help on defense...he'll have to figure out his strengths and hide his weaknesses.
My son really wants to be a basketball player. He could skip it, knowing it's tough for him to compete here, to say, "I want to concentrate on baseball." He wants to play 2, 3 sports. I like that!
If he were trying out in Humboldt County, he'd be on the team...as the big, athletic kid who scores 14 a game and gets 15 rebounds...without getting more than 10 feet from the hoop. He'd be a game-changer on defense because there aren't many athletic taller kids (he's not going to be a "tall kid" much longer, he's about done growing) back home.
Down here...he's trying to figure out how to just make the team.
It's a city game and the kids he'll compete for spots with aren't coming out of Youth Hoopsters rec leagues...they've been playing AAU ball, etc.
Come to think of it, while I think he'll figure out a way to make a mark in tryouts, I think lots of kids become one-sports athletes really early because they're afraid of getting cut trying a sport they aren't sure they're very good at...and their parents let them. On the North Coast, the top athletes try everything and learn which sports they're best at...which is how it should be.
Basketball's a city game. My son's a real North Coast baller. Be interesting to see how it all shakes out.
Friday, December 26, 2008
The One Guy Who Meets All-Time Baseball Criteria
I've written a lot here about great, great, great hitters I've seen on the North Coast. Some of them were mentioned here as potential additions to an all-time North Coast baseball team.
I've thought about it a lot in the last few days and, knowing there are people who'll scream bloody murder to read it here, I've decided that the 1990s-2000s player who best fits the criteria for being added to the all-time baseball team list...is former Eureka High/CR/New Mexico Highlands/Humboldt Crabs star Nick Giacone.
First, he was a great lefthanded hitter. Second, he was a good catcher in high school who became an even better first baseman. Third, I'm certain that he loved the game to the point that he didn't let anything stop him from playing it. You know? As I read the posts on the T/S Topix sites about the great parties on the road with various baseball teams...I'm struck that epic displays of talent sometimes include epic appetite for parties.
You can chase the parties until your head explodes...as long as you get your head together quickly enough to be in uniform (or in class) so that you don't let your baseball career get off track. So, please, don't go through the all-time team or this story gritting your teeth about how much this player or that player partied, OK? Some guys partied and fell off the baseball map. They, sadly, don't meet the criteria for the all-time...in my opinion, anyway.
Giacone played as long as he could and reached the highest level that he could. I watched him play and knew him enough to know that the game was important to him. He ran well for a catcher, then ran well for a first baseman. He had the sweetest left-hand swing I can remember...ranks up there with all-timer Mark Lucich.
Giacone played for the Crabs until he was, I guess, too old to play for the Crabs. That means he accomplished what guys like Reco Pastori, Ed Oliveira, etc. accomplished. Had he played in the 1950s or 1960s...Giacone would've played for the Crabs for 10 years. Age had nothing to do with it back in the day. Bob Bonomini played well at second base for the Crabs years after he'd graduated from Fresno State.
So, Nick Giacone's the one guy who has been mentioned by readers who merits, based on the criteria, to be put on that list of all-timers that appeared in the T/S years back.
It's got to be really, really hard to crack that list. Don't you think?
If everybody got on the list...if there were no criteria...being on the all-time team wouldn't be special, would it? I can live with seeming to be a stodgy old fart who sets what some people are going to think are incredibly stupid standards. Hey, the all-time team thing was my idea to start with...so, I got to set the criteria based on the thoughts of people who know more about the game's history than I do.
Nick Giacone meets the criteria.
I've thought about it a lot in the last few days and, knowing there are people who'll scream bloody murder to read it here, I've decided that the 1990s-2000s player who best fits the criteria for being added to the all-time baseball team list...is former Eureka High/CR/New Mexico Highlands/Humboldt Crabs star Nick Giacone.
First, he was a great lefthanded hitter. Second, he was a good catcher in high school who became an even better first baseman. Third, I'm certain that he loved the game to the point that he didn't let anything stop him from playing it. You know? As I read the posts on the T/S Topix sites about the great parties on the road with various baseball teams...I'm struck that epic displays of talent sometimes include epic appetite for parties.
You can chase the parties until your head explodes...as long as you get your head together quickly enough to be in uniform (or in class) so that you don't let your baseball career get off track. So, please, don't go through the all-time team or this story gritting your teeth about how much this player or that player partied, OK? Some guys partied and fell off the baseball map. They, sadly, don't meet the criteria for the all-time...in my opinion, anyway.
Giacone played as long as he could and reached the highest level that he could. I watched him play and knew him enough to know that the game was important to him. He ran well for a catcher, then ran well for a first baseman. He had the sweetest left-hand swing I can remember...ranks up there with all-timer Mark Lucich.
Giacone played for the Crabs until he was, I guess, too old to play for the Crabs. That means he accomplished what guys like Reco Pastori, Ed Oliveira, etc. accomplished. Had he played in the 1950s or 1960s...Giacone would've played for the Crabs for 10 years. Age had nothing to do with it back in the day. Bob Bonomini played well at second base for the Crabs years after he'd graduated from Fresno State.
So, Nick Giacone's the one guy who has been mentioned by readers who merits, based on the criteria, to be put on that list of all-timers that appeared in the T/S years back.
It's got to be really, really hard to crack that list. Don't you think?
If everybody got on the list...if there were no criteria...being on the all-time team wouldn't be special, would it? I can live with seeming to be a stodgy old fart who sets what some people are going to think are incredibly stupid standards. Hey, the all-time team thing was my idea to start with...so, I got to set the criteria based on the thoughts of people who know more about the game's history than I do.
Nick Giacone meets the criteria.
Baseball State of Mind: All-Timers
Once I make it through Dec. 21, or whenver the first day of winter arrives, it's only a matter of hanging on through Christmas...then making it through the New Year holiday. From there, I can see baseball season and figure I'll make to my own personal springtime celebration of a new year.
I'm buoyed this holiday grind by finding that North Coast all-time baseball squad I pieced together a decade or more back for the Times-Standard. I enjoyed re-reading it and recalling how hard it was to make sure the team reflected the entire North Coast and not just my feelings. I've equally enjoyed considering the names of players some folks have suggested where overlooked or, maybe, would merit consideration if their more recent accomplishments were taken into account.
Hey...it's Dec. 26...I ate something at Christmas dinner that gave me diarrhea overnight. There can't be a better time to think about baseball -- to take my mind off real life. (Ted Note: You know you're completely on your own when you get sick...make a mess...and have to clean up the mess yourself.)
Somebody mentioned Barry Scarpellino as a guy who deserved to be on the all-time list. First, he didn't go to high school on the North Coast and that was the first criteria for choosing players. Second, nobody I talked to about all-time, all-timers mentioned him. I knew his game...his power, his strong arm. Looking at that list from the 1990s, I don't see an outfielder clearly inferior to Barry.
There's a level of gravitas, of depth and importance, to the guys on that all-time list I did for the T/S. There are some outstanding players I just couldn't rank next to the Iorg brothers, Buster Pidgeon, Mark Lucich, Greg Kane, Randy Niemann, etc. And, to hear the old-timers talk about guys like Ed Oliveira and, naturally, Lou Bonomini -- I became quite quickly aware that the guys on the list had to have real meaning and have made a real impact across the board and through generations.
There were a few players of more modern vintage I thought absolutely belonged on the list. I followed Dave Stone's career from Midget League forward. Naturally, he was on my personal all-time list ... but, I had to make room for guys like Oliveira, Reco Pastori, Wally Scott and the guys who were stars when my mom was running wild in Arcata in the 1940s.
There's probably a lesson here for people who automatically assume everything I wrote at the T/S was a direct reflection of my personal feelings. The truth is that the all-time teams, the all-county teams -- they required that the entire North Coast be represented when at all possible. But, people didn't understand that...or just didn't want to believe that the teams that appeared under the T/S banner did really reflect what coaches said off the record. It's easier to think I'm out to give a deserving guy that shaft than to say, "Well, I guess Sillanpaa had to balance out players from different eras...different schools." It's easy to think, "Sillanpaa's an ass! That guy's doesn't deserve to be on that all-county team the newspaper picked! He's being unfair!" It's harder to admit, "Well...if guys who coached against the guy said he belongs on the newspaper's team...OK. I guess South Fork has one player that could start for Eureka's football team. I get it."
The Ted Sillanpaa All-Time Baseball Team has never appeared anywhere. That list I posted...that's the Times-Standard all-time team, circa 1994 or so. Same with other sports...there wasn't the Ted Sillanpaa all-H-DNL football team, there were teams that were chosen by talking to coaches, talking to players, etc.
Unlike today, I didn't poll other members of the media to select the T/S teams. Who knows more -- coaches who'll talk off the record with honesty or a small-time radio guy or young sports writer who needs to keep sources of news open? I never really mastered the art of brown-nosing and puffing up sources. Heck, we argued things out within the T/S staff on players on various teams. Ultimately, readers will never know how much weight was given to respected college or prep coaches who told me who the best players were, why they were good and why there was no point in wasting my time selecting newspaper all-star teams if all I was going to do was reflect the coach' all-county picks, stats and team's records.
(Ted note: Best coach...all-time...for giving the straight scoop in selecting T/S all-league basketball teams...the late Bill Treglown. We weren't pals or anything, but he was media savvy and understood that it was my job to make each year's best players out to be mythical figures...he made it his job to point out that H-DNL history is filled with slow, 5-foot-10 guards...6-foot-4 centers who couldn't make an inner-city school's roster, etc. He never...never ever...led me astray. He did argue that it's not my fault if School A doesn't have a decent basketball player on its roster...and...never mind...there were guys you'd never guess giving me insight, background and sometimes fodder for stories that caught me all kinds of hell.)
More modern-day players who could be added to the all-time squad have been mentioned. (Check the comments on the all-time team post.)
Go back to the gravitas, the depth of the legend the player created...and how he represented the area. That has to count for a great deal, don't you think?
Garth Iorg was not, by a longshot, among the greatest pure talents to play baseball in the H-DNL. He was a gifted athlete who understood the game and learned the minute he got drafted that there's a world filled with guys as good as he was. So, Iorg went out making himself one of the most noted players in North Coast history. He got all the way to the big leagues and, honest, coaches I talked to didn't expect he would. That's an achievement.
Conversely, and sadly, there are great talents who ... fizzled out ... who didn't play as long as they should or gotten as far as they apparently could have. Randy Niemann wasn't near the talent Del Norte High lefthander David Brous was -- in high school or in summer ball. Brous threw harder and had better breaking pitches. Plus, Brous could hit and, having played against Niemann, I'm sure Randy was a very, very, very average H-DNL hitter. When the old Humboldt Beacon newspaper did a story about the best H-DNL pitchers of 1998...featuring Eureka's Jeff Noga, St. Bernard all-stater David Sharp, my son Tyren and David Brous -- lots and lots and lots of people heard me say that Brous was, by far, the best of the bunch at that point. I wrote it...in the newspaper. He had stuff that set him apart. (Oddly, no one seems to remember that.)
Brous got drafted by the San Francisco Giants and signed for a nice amount of cash. Niemann signed after two years at College of the Redwoods. Niemann worked his way through the minor leagues and into a big league career that lasted the bulk of the 1980s. Sadly, I lost track of David Brous. I hope he's doing well. Niemann's a coach in the New York Mets organization.
That leads to a point people forget. There are always great high school players who seem on the road to great college careers...or professional careers. There are kids every season who start on the road to greatness -- it's staying on the road that gets you on an all-time team, I guess.
I'm buoyed this holiday grind by finding that North Coast all-time baseball squad I pieced together a decade or more back for the Times-Standard. I enjoyed re-reading it and recalling how hard it was to make sure the team reflected the entire North Coast and not just my feelings. I've equally enjoyed considering the names of players some folks have suggested where overlooked or, maybe, would merit consideration if their more recent accomplishments were taken into account.
Hey...it's Dec. 26...I ate something at Christmas dinner that gave me diarrhea overnight. There can't be a better time to think about baseball -- to take my mind off real life. (Ted Note: You know you're completely on your own when you get sick...make a mess...and have to clean up the mess yourself.)
Somebody mentioned Barry Scarpellino as a guy who deserved to be on the all-time list. First, he didn't go to high school on the North Coast and that was the first criteria for choosing players. Second, nobody I talked to about all-time, all-timers mentioned him. I knew his game...his power, his strong arm. Looking at that list from the 1990s, I don't see an outfielder clearly inferior to Barry.
There's a level of gravitas, of depth and importance, to the guys on that all-time list I did for the T/S. There are some outstanding players I just couldn't rank next to the Iorg brothers, Buster Pidgeon, Mark Lucich, Greg Kane, Randy Niemann, etc. And, to hear the old-timers talk about guys like Ed Oliveira and, naturally, Lou Bonomini -- I became quite quickly aware that the guys on the list had to have real meaning and have made a real impact across the board and through generations.
There were a few players of more modern vintage I thought absolutely belonged on the list. I followed Dave Stone's career from Midget League forward. Naturally, he was on my personal all-time list ... but, I had to make room for guys like Oliveira, Reco Pastori, Wally Scott and the guys who were stars when my mom was running wild in Arcata in the 1940s.
There's probably a lesson here for people who automatically assume everything I wrote at the T/S was a direct reflection of my personal feelings. The truth is that the all-time teams, the all-county teams -- they required that the entire North Coast be represented when at all possible. But, people didn't understand that...or just didn't want to believe that the teams that appeared under the T/S banner did really reflect what coaches said off the record. It's easier to think I'm out to give a deserving guy that shaft than to say, "Well, I guess Sillanpaa had to balance out players from different eras...different schools." It's easy to think, "Sillanpaa's an ass! That guy's doesn't deserve to be on that all-county team the newspaper picked! He's being unfair!" It's harder to admit, "Well...if guys who coached against the guy said he belongs on the newspaper's team...OK. I guess South Fork has one player that could start for Eureka's football team. I get it."
The Ted Sillanpaa All-Time Baseball Team has never appeared anywhere. That list I posted...that's the Times-Standard all-time team, circa 1994 or so. Same with other sports...there wasn't the Ted Sillanpaa all-H-DNL football team, there were teams that were chosen by talking to coaches, talking to players, etc.
Unlike today, I didn't poll other members of the media to select the T/S teams. Who knows more -- coaches who'll talk off the record with honesty or a small-time radio guy or young sports writer who needs to keep sources of news open? I never really mastered the art of brown-nosing and puffing up sources. Heck, we argued things out within the T/S staff on players on various teams. Ultimately, readers will never know how much weight was given to respected college or prep coaches who told me who the best players were, why they were good and why there was no point in wasting my time selecting newspaper all-star teams if all I was going to do was reflect the coach' all-county picks, stats and team's records.
(Ted note: Best coach...all-time...for giving the straight scoop in selecting T/S all-league basketball teams...the late Bill Treglown. We weren't pals or anything, but he was media savvy and understood that it was my job to make each year's best players out to be mythical figures...he made it his job to point out that H-DNL history is filled with slow, 5-foot-10 guards...6-foot-4 centers who couldn't make an inner-city school's roster, etc. He never...never ever...led me astray. He did argue that it's not my fault if School A doesn't have a decent basketball player on its roster...and...never mind...there were guys you'd never guess giving me insight, background and sometimes fodder for stories that caught me all kinds of hell.)
More modern-day players who could be added to the all-time squad have been mentioned. (Check the comments on the all-time team post.)
Go back to the gravitas, the depth of the legend the player created...and how he represented the area. That has to count for a great deal, don't you think?
Garth Iorg was not, by a longshot, among the greatest pure talents to play baseball in the H-DNL. He was a gifted athlete who understood the game and learned the minute he got drafted that there's a world filled with guys as good as he was. So, Iorg went out making himself one of the most noted players in North Coast history. He got all the way to the big leagues and, honest, coaches I talked to didn't expect he would. That's an achievement.
Conversely, and sadly, there are great talents who ... fizzled out ... who didn't play as long as they should or gotten as far as they apparently could have. Randy Niemann wasn't near the talent Del Norte High lefthander David Brous was -- in high school or in summer ball. Brous threw harder and had better breaking pitches. Plus, Brous could hit and, having played against Niemann, I'm sure Randy was a very, very, very average H-DNL hitter. When the old Humboldt Beacon newspaper did a story about the best H-DNL pitchers of 1998...featuring Eureka's Jeff Noga, St. Bernard all-stater David Sharp, my son Tyren and David Brous -- lots and lots and lots of people heard me say that Brous was, by far, the best of the bunch at that point. I wrote it...in the newspaper. He had stuff that set him apart. (Oddly, no one seems to remember that.)
Brous got drafted by the San Francisco Giants and signed for a nice amount of cash. Niemann signed after two years at College of the Redwoods. Niemann worked his way through the minor leagues and into a big league career that lasted the bulk of the 1980s. Sadly, I lost track of David Brous. I hope he's doing well. Niemann's a coach in the New York Mets organization.
That leads to a point people forget. There are always great high school players who seem on the road to great college careers...or professional careers. There are kids every season who start on the road to greatness -- it's staying on the road that gets you on an all-time team, I guess.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
All-Time North Coast Baseball Team
This is the story featuring the all-time North Coast baseball team I pieced together with research, in discussions with people who'd followed the game for years, etc. It runs up through the early 1990s...but, since I found it on the H-DNL Web site, I thought I'd snag and share it here...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Boys of summer
By Ted Sillanpaa
The Times-Standard
Selecting the best North Coast baseball players of the century is no more difficult than picking the prettiest star in the evening sky.
Still, as 2000 nears, it's worth taking the time to consider the best of the best who have been the region's "Boys of Summer" in the last many years.
While Major League Baseball has copious statistics going back to 1900, the process of selecting the all-time North Coast baseball team falls to recollections of former players and coaches or media members.
"There have been some great players here through the years," the Times-Standard's longtime sports editor Don Terbush said. "How can you compare them through the years with the change from wooden bats to aluminum? It's tough, but the great ones could have played in any era."
Players are honored here for what they did on the local scene, while considering what they accomplished outside the area, too. The majority of the stars of the last century played pro baseball, although some drew high praise simply for their excellence on the North Coast scene.
The team was chosen after polling local baseball players, baseball historians and media members who have watched this area's finest baseball stars through the century.
The late Carl Del Grande described the 1949 semi-professional Humboldt Crabs in a 1984 newspaper story.
"The club had intensity and brute strength," Del Grande said. "It also had finesse and skill."
Some things never change. That could describe any championship team from any era.
Here's a look at the Times-Standard All-Time North Coast Baseball Team:
First base: Two players who starred at Eureka High before becoming standouts at Stanford University and then enjoying careers in professional baseball earn the nod.
Mark Lucich, who graduated from Eureka in 1972, and Rick Lundblade, who starred in the late 1980s, both left their mark locally and then starred for the Cardinal.
"Mark was just a great hitter. He hit for average and with power," said former Alaska Summer League teammate Lee Iorg, who played against Lucich at Eureka High.
Lundblade, at one time, held the all-time Stanford career home run record.
Lucich spent time in the Cincinnati Reds organization while Lundblade was a Philadelphia Phillies farmhand.
Infielders: Although he's best known as a legendary Humboldt-Del Norte League coach, Bob Bonomini ranks among the greatest players in history. He was a superb player at St. Bernard High (Class of 1958) before shining at Fresno State and, then, for years as the second baseman for the Humboldt Crabs.
Wally Scott was a shortstop for Arcata High School and Humboldt State in the 1940s. He was a brilliant fielder with an outstanding bat. He wound up playing professional baseball.
"You can't pick an all-time team without Wally on it," Terbush said.
John Schlesinger (Eureka High, 1968) was among the first in a crop of standout Loggers to shine in the infield and then go on to play professionally. This Loggers grad spent years in the Yankees farm system.
One player stands head-and-shoulders above the rest at this position -- former Eureka and Humboldt Crabs sensation Reco Pastori. Pastori was a brilliant middle infielder in the 1940s for the early editions of the semi-pro baseball powerhouse. He played second base for the Crabs.
"Reco was our Ty Cobb," Del Grande recalled. "He was a good percentage hitter and could convert a walk or single into two bases with his exciting base running."
Garth Iorg was a shortstop for Arcata High from 1971-73, then moved on straight from high school to the minor leagues.
He spent a long, storied career as a third baseman for Toronto Blue Jays.
Once again, a player from years gone by is considered by many the best in North Coast history at the hot corner.
Former Arcata High star Eddie Oliveira was a brilliant third baseman for the Tigers in the 1940s and remains, in the opinion of many, the best at the hot corner in the history of the Humboldt Crabs.
"Oliveira had excellent bat control," Del Grande recalled. "He usually led our team in hitting. He was very good at the hit-and-run play. He was a great athlete."
Catchers: After a brilliant career at Eureka High and with the Humboldt Crabs, Carl Del Grande earns a spot on the all-time team as a catcher. He was power hitter in the 1940s here before playing professional baseball with the Detroit Tigers and Pittsburgh Pirates organizations.
"Carl could play the infield, the outfield, and he was a catcher, too," Terbush remembered. "He could really hit the long ball."
Greg Kane was a home run-hitting sensation for Arcata High in the early 1970s before moving on to a professional career where he showed defensive prowess to go with a booming bat.
Outfielders: Dane Iorg was a star at Arcata High (1968), was a standout for the Humboldt Crabs and Brigham Young University and then had a long and successful big league career with the St. Louis Cardinals and Kansas City Royals. While with the Royals, he played against younger brother Garth, who was with the Blue Jays, in the American League Championship Series.
"I think Dane was the best all-around player ever to come out of this area," said Iorg's brother Lee.
Some would disagree.
"Lee Iorg was considered by many the best overall talent of the three Iorg brothers," Terbush said.
Lee Iorg was not to be outshined as a center fielder from Arcata High (1970) with great speed, fine defensive skills and strong bat. He is considered by some baseball historians here as the most physically gifted of the brothers. He played in the New York Mets organization.
"Dane and I played different positions. I prided myself on my defense and my hitting," Lee said. "It's kind of nice that people remember you were a pretty decent player."
Buster Pidgeon was as outstanding a multisport athlete as the area has ever produced, starring for great Eureka High teams in the 1960s. It was as a baseball star at Eureka High, College of the Redwoods and then in the Philadelphia Phillies organization that he made his mark on North Coast history. He continues to leave his mark on area baseball with son Matthew pitching in the Florida Marlins organization and by Buster tutoring many young players -- on his own time out of his love for the sport and youngsters.
Paul Ziegler was another multisport hero for Fortuna High (1976). He was a mercurial center fielder who led many Humboldt Crabs teams to glory while starting in center field in a four-year career at the University of Southern California.
Greg Lorenzetti is another Fortuna grad who, like Ziegler, was a football quarterback and a basketball star, coming along in the 1980s. He went on to become a baseball standout at Stanford University, and played for the Crabs, before signing professionally with the Toronto Blue Jays.
Shane Zerlang is the third Fortuna High grad to crack this mythical squad. He was a superior lefty swinger with speed and power. He went on to play professionally in the Los Angeles Dodgers organization in the mid-1980s.
Pitchers: Joe Oescheger came out Ferndale High to pitch for decades in the major leagues in the 1900s. The right-hander pitched in the longest game in major league history for the Brooklyn Dodgers.
"He gained so much recognition nationally for the longest game that some people don't remember he pitched here," Terbush said.
Wade Hammond was named California's Medium School Player of the Year in 1956, leading Eureka High through a magical season in which he pitched five shutouts before signing a professional contract.
Greg Shanahan went from St. Bernard High (1968) to Humboldt State's now defunct baseball program. His career didn't end until he had worked his way through the Los Angeles Dodgers system and into the big leagues.
Bob Wilson was a versatile player at Eureka High (1969) but really earned his stripes as a pitcher in one of the most gifted groups of baseball players the area has ever produced. He signed and played pro ball for the Phillies.
"Bob Wilson just had a great fastball," Lee Iorg remembers. "Back then, we didn't know how hard guys threw without a radar gun to measure speed. We just knew it was hard to hit. Bob had a good curve, but you really respected his fastball."
Bobby Box was a dominating left-hander for Arcata High and still holds many College of the Redwoods pitching records. He had a long career in the Atlanta Braves farm system.
Randy Niemann is another lefty who had a long big league career, pitching for a number of teams.
He starred at Fortuna High (1973) and then headed to College of the Redwoods before signing first with the Yankees.
Burt Nordstrom pitched at Arcata High and for Humboldt State. The right-hander wound up his career playing professionally for the Cleveland Indians system.
"Burt was one of the best pitchers of the era I played in, for sure," Lee Iorg said of his former Arcata High teammate.
Gary Wilson, Arcata High's versatile righty, was a star in the 1980s who went to Sacramento City College and, eventually, found his way to a stint on the big league roster of the PIttsburgh Pirates.
Billy Olsen is remembered as one of the best high school pitchers ever here. He was a star at Eureka High School (1967), then jumped directly to be the No. 1 starter for the Humboldt Crabs where he dominated foes. He was signed by the New York Yankees before arm injuries cut short a brilliant career.
"Billy Olsen was the best pitching prospect I've seen," said Crabs chief scout and former general manager Ned Barsuglia last spring.
"Olsen was one of the best pitchers the Crabs ever had -- and that's saying something," Terbush said.
Gene Johnson, out of Eureka High, starred for the 1949 Crabs as one of the finest hurlers ever produced here.
"Gene had a variety of deliveries," said Del Grande in that 1984 story. "He had a good fastball and refused to be intimidated by batters."
Johnson reached the highest level of minor league baseball in the Triple-A Pacific Coast League.
Head coach: This was the easiest choice of all, with Humboldt Crabs founder Lou Bonomini the clear choice. Bonomini was a star player at Eureka High School in the 1930s and, rightfully, deserves a spot for his exploits as an infielder and pitcher before founding and managing one of the greatest semi-pro baseball organizations in America.
"Lou's philosophy was that a club that doesn't settle for less than victory will be a winner," Del Grande recalled 25 years ago. "That philosophy made winning a fetish for Lou and his teams. That makes for real enjoyment of the game. He wanted that effort from every player on the team."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Boys of summer
By Ted Sillanpaa
The Times-Standard
Selecting the best North Coast baseball players of the century is no more difficult than picking the prettiest star in the evening sky.
Still, as 2000 nears, it's worth taking the time to consider the best of the best who have been the region's "Boys of Summer" in the last many years.
While Major League Baseball has copious statistics going back to 1900, the process of selecting the all-time North Coast baseball team falls to recollections of former players and coaches or media members.
"There have been some great players here through the years," the Times-Standard's longtime sports editor Don Terbush said. "How can you compare them through the years with the change from wooden bats to aluminum? It's tough, but the great ones could have played in any era."
Players are honored here for what they did on the local scene, while considering what they accomplished outside the area, too. The majority of the stars of the last century played pro baseball, although some drew high praise simply for their excellence on the North Coast scene.
The team was chosen after polling local baseball players, baseball historians and media members who have watched this area's finest baseball stars through the century.
The late Carl Del Grande described the 1949 semi-professional Humboldt Crabs in a 1984 newspaper story.
"The club had intensity and brute strength," Del Grande said. "It also had finesse and skill."
Some things never change. That could describe any championship team from any era.
Here's a look at the Times-Standard All-Time North Coast Baseball Team:
First base: Two players who starred at Eureka High before becoming standouts at Stanford University and then enjoying careers in professional baseball earn the nod.
Mark Lucich, who graduated from Eureka in 1972, and Rick Lundblade, who starred in the late 1980s, both left their mark locally and then starred for the Cardinal.
"Mark was just a great hitter. He hit for average and with power," said former Alaska Summer League teammate Lee Iorg, who played against Lucich at Eureka High.
Lundblade, at one time, held the all-time Stanford career home run record.
Lucich spent time in the Cincinnati Reds organization while Lundblade was a Philadelphia Phillies farmhand.
Infielders: Although he's best known as a legendary Humboldt-Del Norte League coach, Bob Bonomini ranks among the greatest players in history. He was a superb player at St. Bernard High (Class of 1958) before shining at Fresno State and, then, for years as the second baseman for the Humboldt Crabs.
Wally Scott was a shortstop for Arcata High School and Humboldt State in the 1940s. He was a brilliant fielder with an outstanding bat. He wound up playing professional baseball.
"You can't pick an all-time team without Wally on it," Terbush said.
John Schlesinger (Eureka High, 1968) was among the first in a crop of standout Loggers to shine in the infield and then go on to play professionally. This Loggers grad spent years in the Yankees farm system.
One player stands head-and-shoulders above the rest at this position -- former Eureka and Humboldt Crabs sensation Reco Pastori. Pastori was a brilliant middle infielder in the 1940s for the early editions of the semi-pro baseball powerhouse. He played second base for the Crabs.
"Reco was our Ty Cobb," Del Grande recalled. "He was a good percentage hitter and could convert a walk or single into two bases with his exciting base running."
Garth Iorg was a shortstop for Arcata High from 1971-73, then moved on straight from high school to the minor leagues.
He spent a long, storied career as a third baseman for Toronto Blue Jays.
Once again, a player from years gone by is considered by many the best in North Coast history at the hot corner.
Former Arcata High star Eddie Oliveira was a brilliant third baseman for the Tigers in the 1940s and remains, in the opinion of many, the best at the hot corner in the history of the Humboldt Crabs.
"Oliveira had excellent bat control," Del Grande recalled. "He usually led our team in hitting. He was very good at the hit-and-run play. He was a great athlete."
Catchers: After a brilliant career at Eureka High and with the Humboldt Crabs, Carl Del Grande earns a spot on the all-time team as a catcher. He was power hitter in the 1940s here before playing professional baseball with the Detroit Tigers and Pittsburgh Pirates organizations.
"Carl could play the infield, the outfield, and he was a catcher, too," Terbush remembered. "He could really hit the long ball."
Greg Kane was a home run-hitting sensation for Arcata High in the early 1970s before moving on to a professional career where he showed defensive prowess to go with a booming bat.
Outfielders: Dane Iorg was a star at Arcata High (1968), was a standout for the Humboldt Crabs and Brigham Young University and then had a long and successful big league career with the St. Louis Cardinals and Kansas City Royals. While with the Royals, he played against younger brother Garth, who was with the Blue Jays, in the American League Championship Series.
"I think Dane was the best all-around player ever to come out of this area," said Iorg's brother Lee.
Some would disagree.
"Lee Iorg was considered by many the best overall talent of the three Iorg brothers," Terbush said.
Lee Iorg was not to be outshined as a center fielder from Arcata High (1970) with great speed, fine defensive skills and strong bat. He is considered by some baseball historians here as the most physically gifted of the brothers. He played in the New York Mets organization.
"Dane and I played different positions. I prided myself on my defense and my hitting," Lee said. "It's kind of nice that people remember you were a pretty decent player."
Buster Pidgeon was as outstanding a multisport athlete as the area has ever produced, starring for great Eureka High teams in the 1960s. It was as a baseball star at Eureka High, College of the Redwoods and then in the Philadelphia Phillies organization that he made his mark on North Coast history. He continues to leave his mark on area baseball with son Matthew pitching in the Florida Marlins organization and by Buster tutoring many young players -- on his own time out of his love for the sport and youngsters.
Paul Ziegler was another multisport hero for Fortuna High (1976). He was a mercurial center fielder who led many Humboldt Crabs teams to glory while starting in center field in a four-year career at the University of Southern California.
Greg Lorenzetti is another Fortuna grad who, like Ziegler, was a football quarterback and a basketball star, coming along in the 1980s. He went on to become a baseball standout at Stanford University, and played for the Crabs, before signing professionally with the Toronto Blue Jays.
Shane Zerlang is the third Fortuna High grad to crack this mythical squad. He was a superior lefty swinger with speed and power. He went on to play professionally in the Los Angeles Dodgers organization in the mid-1980s.
Pitchers: Joe Oescheger came out Ferndale High to pitch for decades in the major leagues in the 1900s. The right-hander pitched in the longest game in major league history for the Brooklyn Dodgers.
"He gained so much recognition nationally for the longest game that some people don't remember he pitched here," Terbush said.
Wade Hammond was named California's Medium School Player of the Year in 1956, leading Eureka High through a magical season in which he pitched five shutouts before signing a professional contract.
Greg Shanahan went from St. Bernard High (1968) to Humboldt State's now defunct baseball program. His career didn't end until he had worked his way through the Los Angeles Dodgers system and into the big leagues.
Bob Wilson was a versatile player at Eureka High (1969) but really earned his stripes as a pitcher in one of the most gifted groups of baseball players the area has ever produced. He signed and played pro ball for the Phillies.
"Bob Wilson just had a great fastball," Lee Iorg remembers. "Back then, we didn't know how hard guys threw without a radar gun to measure speed. We just knew it was hard to hit. Bob had a good curve, but you really respected his fastball."
Bobby Box was a dominating left-hander for Arcata High and still holds many College of the Redwoods pitching records. He had a long career in the Atlanta Braves farm system.
Randy Niemann is another lefty who had a long big league career, pitching for a number of teams.
He starred at Fortuna High (1973) and then headed to College of the Redwoods before signing first with the Yankees.
Burt Nordstrom pitched at Arcata High and for Humboldt State. The right-hander wound up his career playing professionally for the Cleveland Indians system.
"Burt was one of the best pitchers of the era I played in, for sure," Lee Iorg said of his former Arcata High teammate.
Gary Wilson, Arcata High's versatile righty, was a star in the 1980s who went to Sacramento City College and, eventually, found his way to a stint on the big league roster of the PIttsburgh Pirates.
Billy Olsen is remembered as one of the best high school pitchers ever here. He was a star at Eureka High School (1967), then jumped directly to be the No. 1 starter for the Humboldt Crabs where he dominated foes. He was signed by the New York Yankees before arm injuries cut short a brilliant career.
"Billy Olsen was the best pitching prospect I've seen," said Crabs chief scout and former general manager Ned Barsuglia last spring.
"Olsen was one of the best pitchers the Crabs ever had -- and that's saying something," Terbush said.
Gene Johnson, out of Eureka High, starred for the 1949 Crabs as one of the finest hurlers ever produced here.
"Gene had a variety of deliveries," said Del Grande in that 1984 story. "He had a good fastball and refused to be intimidated by batters."
Johnson reached the highest level of minor league baseball in the Triple-A Pacific Coast League.
Head coach: This was the easiest choice of all, with Humboldt Crabs founder Lou Bonomini the clear choice. Bonomini was a star player at Eureka High School in the 1930s and, rightfully, deserves a spot for his exploits as an infielder and pitcher before founding and managing one of the greatest semi-pro baseball organizations in America.
"Lou's philosophy was that a club that doesn't settle for less than victory will be a winner," Del Grande recalled 25 years ago. "That philosophy made winning a fetish for Lou and his teams. That makes for real enjoyment of the game. He wanted that effort from every player on the team."
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