Open Your Eyes That You May See

Okay, let me state up front that I believe Bobby Knight, former basketball coach at West Point, Indiana and Texas Tech is unquestionably one of the most brilliant basketball minds. When you start saying who may be the best basketball coach ever there pops up too many variables, which muddy any factual conclusions.

On the political front, I believe Trump getting Knight to visit Indiana to publicly endorse Trump was the smartest move of any Presidential Candidate this election cycle. The fact is obvious in Indiana, there's a helluva lot of blind allegiance to Bobby Knight. There's many 'Hoosiers' who would damn near do anything or believe anything Knight would tell them. Those people dismiss all logic and sound reasoning when Knight speaks.

I understand why Knight would be drawn to Trump's candidacy...they are both obnoxious, vulgar bullies.

Bobby Knight's mind belongs in any basketball hall of fame but I would not want his thinking or personality in the White House, neither would I want Trump there.

There is one myth about Knight's winning-style. After Knight won the NCAA Championship, I attended a Basketball Coaches' Clinic where both John Wooden and Bobby Knight were speakers. Before Knight was to conduct his session, Wooden was in the venues lobby autographing his Pyramid book. As the time approached for Knight to speak, Wooden glanced at his watch and said to those waiting for his autograph, "Coaches, one of our colleagues is about to speak in the auditorium. It would be unprofessional of us to remain out here. Shall we go listen to this presenter and afterward, I'll return to complete my visit with you." I remember going into the auditorium just in time to hear a vulgar-laced rant delivered by Coach Knight. I thought, how interesting the difference between these two basketball coaching icons. It does, indeed dispel the myth that somehow one must be a hard-nose ass to be a winner. Wooden was the ultimate classy gentleman who was undoubtedly a winner.

Had John Wooden ever endorsed someone for President, I'd pay attention to that one but then, John Wooden never dirtied his hands.

America's News 'IS' Comedy Central

The current American news is absolutely bizarre. To put it in a more simple vernacular; there's some 'crazy-crap' happening and being reported in the 'good old U. S. Of A.' My Grandpa E. V. Bennett would be totally 'confounded.'

A 'man' who won the 1976 Olympic Gold in the Decathlon representing America recently received another prestigious sports award for showing courage in declaring that 'he' wants to dress and be accepted as a 'woman.' This announcement fed the frenzy of many Americans who truly 'get into sexual matters' of their neighbor's. Of course, we now have a national debate about gender public restroom usage. Grandpa E. V. Bennett would say, "Well, I'll be go-to-hell if that ain't the damndest thing ever heard tell."

Just today, American newspapers report the 15-month prison sentencing of former high school wrestling coach turned politician and former United States Speaker of the House for bank fraud in connection to his raping of teenage boys he once coached. 'Hot Damn, that's right E. V.', the man could have been our President.

Speaking of President, Ted Cruz campaigning for that office has etched his name in Presidential politics history. Cruz has no mathematical chance to receive enough delegates going into the convention to get the nomination. Lo' & behold Grandpa E. V., the silly sumbitch announced  yesterday his Vice President running mate. Cruz thus becomes the 'only' mathematically eliminated Presidential candidate to pick a running mate. And...the lady he picked for his ticket was recently characterized by Cruz's opponent as 'having too ugly-a-face' to be President. I said bizarre!
I suspect by Mother's Day Cruz will announce his Cabinet appointments and Supreme Court Justice nominee.
'Dadgummit, I believe Grandpa E. V.  would 'reckon' today's news items are frightful and pathetic.
E. V. Bennett would also reckon life was much better when our President 'looked' like Abe and everybody used the outhouse. Actually, I'm always amused by Ted Cruz's speeches. Every statement he makes, he wishes it to be as profound as the Gettysburg Address and delivered with the speaking style and cadence of JFK.

Great Times with Great Folks

Went to Jacksonville (IL) yesterday. It was time for Toy Poodle, Yodie to have his teeth cleaned. Dr. John Alan Ebrey has been our family vet for better than thirty years. He has tended to Poodles, GiGi, Rueben, Percy and Yodie. Ebrey is an excellent vet and good man with a fine caring staff.

While waiting for Yodie's procedure to be completed, my wife, Gerry and I went to Hardee's for a breakfast bite. It was great to see long time franchisee owner, Dennis Hayes. Dennis took care of many Crimsons' basketball team meals during my 21-year stint as the coach.

It was wonderful to have a lengthy visit with Bob and Pat Neff. I suspect everyone in Jacksonville know the Neff"s. They are two of the best JHS Crimsons' basketball fans. More to that story gives it legs...you see Bob Neff is 93-years old and it was his construction company that built the beloved, iconic Basketball facility for the Jacksonville School District, which is called 'The Bowl.' That structure was completed in 1952 and stands proud today as one of the finest high school basketball venues in the Midwest.

One more quick Neff remembrance. During my final four years coaching the JHS Crimsons, I also had a four-hour daily morning show on WLDS Radio. No it wasn't a sports program but a DJ 50's Music format and call-in program. One morning I mentioned on air that when I was a young boy at home, I loved when my mother had ham & beans because late at night I'd make myself a 'cold-bean' sandwich. In less than 30 minutes, Bob and Pat Neff walked into my studio, while I was on the air, to deliver a 'cold bean sandwich.

I'm sure many of you reading this blog can identify...It's the little endearing moments that makes life's journey delicious.

Seems Like It Was Just Yesterday.

Perhaps it's just me but I'm missing some sights and sounds of days gone bye especially those of my youth...

I no longer hear the voice of a kid yelling out from under a street light, "1-2-3 on Terry behind Mrs. Leroy's porch." In fact, I don't hear kids yelling names of playmates to come out and play. The sound of a wooden bat falling to a side street pavement seems gone forever.  Can't think of the last time I heard a young girl gladly tell the neighborhood boy, "No! You forgot to say Mother May I?"

I don't hear street corner evening paper boys shouting, "Paper! Morning Globe!" Never does a push-cart street-vendor pass my home yelling out, "Hot Tamales, Get your Red Hots!" I don't hear parents calling out children's name to come in from play for supper...I suppose kids are mostly inside anyway. The 9 o'clock evening factory whistle seems to have echoed a final time across the night time sky.

I drive by parks and never notice the young playing sandlot baseball. Blacktop basketball courts are sparsely populated. I don't see young boys walking down streets with the family dog following behind. As I drive through many neighborhoods these past many years, I've noticed the 'alley' have disappeared from the suburban landscape. On various days of the week,  front yard views are compromised by garbage cans lined along manicured lawns. Fill me in...did the Federal Government legislate against the auto makers producing 'whitewall tires?'

I cannot help but wonder where have the lightning bugs and Caterpillars gone? Do young kids still put playing cards near the rear bike wheel to create that 'flapping' noise? Don't see hop scotch drawings on sidewalks I frequent. As the summer months bring the warmer temperatures, I will miss seeing adults sitting on backyard swings catching an evening breeze.

I remember when I was perhaps eleven years or so, I'd often fall asleep on a hot August East St. Louis night with a warm breeze filtering into my bedroom while listening to the clanking of nearby neighbor, Red Miller's horseshoes as they hammered home a 'ringer.'

Where have all those sights and sounds gone along with the wonderful stories and precious memories? What replacements now leave memories for later recall of my children and grandchildren? Will those rememberances bring a comforting feeling of security and love? I can only hope and pray...but I do more praying than hoping these days.

I Think He Knows What I Know

The past several days, I've spent time engaged in yard work. Completing a block front-yard fountain,  I moved to the backyard to till the garden. Toy poodle, Yodie follows me about wanting my attention. Also vying for attention is the next door neighbor's German Shepard, Tommy. I walked to the fence and waited for Tommy to hobble slowly to greet me. I suppose the Shepard is ten or eleven years old and his hips are giving him problems.

I remember vividly those days not long ago when Tommy the young pup would jump that three foot fence to visit with me. He also had a tendency to 'run.' Many times over the years, I'd drop what I was doing to chase Tommy down and bring him back to his yard.

Yesterday, before giving Tommy a treat, I patted his head and looked into the old dog's eyes. He's greying about the face these days. I pulled a treat from my pocket and gave it to him. Tommy hobbled towards a shady spot to enjoy the gift and I went about planting my tomatoes.

Spending much time on my knees, I grunted as I used a shovel to lift myself to an upright position. As I did, my right hip gave away, as it often does and I had to pause for a moment before hobbling around the shed towards a resting chair. As I took my second step, I saw Tommy sitting at the fence starring at me. I thought, there's a good friend. Tommy and I are the same age (77) nursing similar maladies...we're likely on the same train schedule.

I'm glad Tommy can no longer bolt that fence because his buddy's chasing-down days are long gone meanwhile, we both shall hobble to that fence from time to time and share a moment...not to forget Tommy's treat.

Hokey Pokey Guys

"You put your right foot in you put your right foot out you put your right foot in and shake it all about, you do the hokey pokey and turn yourself around that's what it's all about..." The Hokey Pokey is one of those late-in-the-night party dances that seems easier to do for the fellas, much like the 'Bunny Hop' because enough beer has been consumed.

Republican Presidential candidate, Donald Trump and his advisors are 'doing' the Hokey Pokey thinking the American voters are intoxicated. It would be difficult even for the staunchest Trump supporter to deny that 'The Donald' has been a whining, bullying asshole with his attack-hate rhetoric for the entire campaign. Now, his advisors are pleading with the RNC to embrace their guy because "he is evolving into a more Presidential-style persona." In other words, every thing about Trump up until this time is untrue, false and some kind of act. However, just give him a chance and he will turn on a dime and begin acting more like Ronnie Reagan and Abraham Lincoln..."and you turn yourself around, that's what it's all about... Hokey Pokey and Hocus Pocus!"

Not to be out done by Trump's total disregard for the American people's common sense, Former  U.S. House Majority Leader, Tom Delay wrote a support letter in behalf of Former U. S. Speaker of the House, Dennis Hastert to the Judge who will sentence Hastert this week. You'll recall Hastert, when coaching high school wrestling sexually violated young boys and later paid hush money, which violated some banking rules. Delay said in his letter, "He (Hastert) is a good man that loves the Lord and he (Hastert) gets his integrity and values from HIM. He (Hastert) doesn't deserve what he's going through." ...."You put put your whole self in you put your whole self out, you put your whole self in and you turn yourself around, that's what it's all about...Hocus Pocus!" Excuse me, I need another beer.

Looking for Abe

When he was frustrated or perturbed, Grandpa E. V. Bennett would often say, "Dadgummit!" Well, I say, "Dadgummit" to all this 2016 political campaign poppycock. I am weary of the constant 24/7 news coverage of the clowns running for the United States presidency.

Instead of talking about the foolish nonsensical subjects such as candidates' wives, the size of one's hand, a wall, which will never be built, racist comments about minorities and religious groups, using phrases, i.e.  Bomb the shit out of them or bomb then until the sand glows, I prefer my next President to be of a different ilk. I'd like that leader to be so cerebral that he/she sleeps with one eye open reading government reports.

You readers know that person. He was the 'nerd' sitting next to you in high school chemistry who on the first class meeting memorized the Periodic Table while the teacher was taking role. He was the guy who walked the college campus oblivious to homecoming. I want my next Nation's leader to be a person who answers the 'Red Phone' on the first ring at 3 AM because he/she is sitting up in bed playing Sudoku puzzles. We are in trouble.

It is easy to see that our American voters are also lacking in brain power. How else would we explain that voters are motivated, by in large, by hate messages rather than substantive messages. The nature of the beast is to first process 'how does it affect me?' That said, most people feel angry with circumstances and wish to assign blame while rallying around the candidate who vents with ugly verbal attacks. Go figure. In a country whose philosophy is based on Judea-Christian principles, it's people surely embrace the voices of separation and hate.

Of course, the next President must hit the pavement running. That person must address the ISIS terrorist problem and convince Congress to develop a PSA...that is a Potty Security Administration similar to the (TSA) Transportation Security Administration. The PSA Agents will be assigned to public restrooms to body scan crotches before entering public pottys.

Subtle as a Punch in the Nose

I've never been sure what the gall bladder does but I am sure mine is layin' down on the job. After a three hour ER visit and some tests, the Doctor said you've got gallstones, lots of them. Apparently, they are fighting for space, lookin' for a home somewhat like the Bollweevil. The good Doctor suggested that surgery might be my best option.

Yesterday morning, I was googling general surgeons in the Decatur area. I came across the name of one fella and yelled at my wife who was in another room that a local general surgeon had a rating of 4-out of-5. She said, "So?" I said, "So, I'd like one with a 5-for-5 rating." My wife yelled back,
 "Ya, and So why didn't YOU win all the games you coached?" Speechless, in my Rodney Dangerfield moment, I thought about how little respect I have received from my family members over the years. I recall several years ago, I had an auto license plate that read: "COACH 16."
When my brother, Tom saw the plate he commented,"I know what the 16 means but what the hell does COACH mean?

This explains the #1 reason why I have a dog. In fact, I'm headed to the backyard swing with a cup of coffee and Yodie right now.

The Girl Can't Help It !

Let me state up front that my love for my three children has always been strong and the loving relationship is undeniable. That said, I still scratch my head, at times, wondering how little they paid attention to their father's coaching career and sports in general.

My oldest daughter, Dawn lives in the Northwest Suburbs (Chicago) where she and husband Shawn parent seven children; four daughters and three boys. Dawn is a good mother but is guilty of too much pampering of her kids. (Note: Please forward names of any mothers of school-age kids that do NOT pamper their kids. That's what I thought...you don't know any non-pampering mommies!)

Last Thursday, Dawn's senior Barrington high school baseball pitching son pitched a couple of relief innings and pitched very well even though he took the loss. My daughter telephoned me somewhat distraught by the game's outcome because her boy 'got the loss.' (Note: The only thing good about my daughter's over-the-top sensitivity blood flow is she will undoubtedly vote Democrat thus canceling her husband's vote.) I attempted to explain baseball nuances to no avail. I told her it appeared the lad pitched well enough to gain his Coach's confidence. Well, indeed that was the case. The boy was used in two innings of relief Monday against Schaumburg high school. He entered a tied game and no-hit the opposition picking up the victory.

My daughter was not at the game but that was not her fault. If the baseball teams had 'Ball Girls' dressed in Disney characters, i.e. Cinderella and Snow White hosted a 'Cup Cake Tea Party' between innings, daughter, Dawn would be all over that like a mother planning for her daughter's September wedding...oh yes, we're doing that also.

Since Dawn was not at the game, a mother of another player decided to text some play-by-play to Dawn when son, Connor entered the game. Dawn said she was immediately relieved when an early text-message read: 'K.'  Dawn believed thar meant 'OK' your son's pitching...of course, 'K' means strike out.

Now, later this spring the family will gather in those Northwest Suburbs for a Dance Recital. It will be my twenty-fourth dance recital, but who's counting? Dawn will fuss over little Ashlyn's hair like a dog covering a prized bone. The little girl will get bouquets and have her photo taken with everyone who'll stand beside her. I will sit next to Dawn a notice her body movement coordinated with the child's dance move performance. Afterwards, I will say, "Dawn, Ashlyn 'hit it on the sweet spot,'"which will cause Dawn's look of bewilderment.

Okay sister Pamela, don't get smart and make fun of Dawn...remember those high school cheerleading days when your sideline chat, "Hold that line, hold that line" was being yelled when your football team was on offense?

Uh...Dah!

I read a report this week stating that a Walmart associate manager earns approximately $20,000.00 per year. A family of four with that income qualifies for food stamps. I would suspect those food stamps will be redeemed at Walmart.

Okay, I await the economic lectures on how the $15.00 per hour minimum wage increase is going to cost me more for fast food sandwiches. Hell, I'm already paying for the food stamps. Dah!

I welcome all rebuttals except if you are the individual who recently equated Facebook's, Mark Kruckeberg's home residence 'wall' to that of Donald Trump's proposed 'wall' at the Mexican-American border, you are still relegated to the 'logic time out corner' and cannot comment.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back!

In the 'Life Section' of Sunday's Decatur Herald-Review Newspaper, the article's headline read, "Parents: Your Kids Don't Want Your Stuff." No exaggeration, over the years, I spoke the same sentiment to my wife with dozens of times. Observing my own children through their young years, I got a strong sense that they had different taste in furniture did not particularly care for other furnishings. I knew good and well that our 'old stuff' would not be good enough for my grandchildren. Consequently, I missed some great garage sale opportunities throughout the years and today various rooms in our house looks like a pumpkin farm hay stack maze.

I will fudge on the opinion that the kids want 'nothing' of ours. The girls like some antique teapots their mother collected. I am sure the 'old man' has nothing to tweak a next generation interest but I can imagine some items will be tossed on an empty bed one day and each child will take 'some thing' believing they are showing respectful honor.

Last Sunday, I read in the Church bulletin that they were having a 'Dumpster Day' at Church. You can bring 'stuff' and dump it. Even if you need, a Church volunteer will pick your stuff up and take it to the dumpster. I was so excited, one morning, I gathered up some 'stuff' from the basement. As soon as my wife got home from volunteering at the Church's Economy Shop, I thought I'd pack the car and head to the Church Dump spot. In minutes, I heard my wife enter the house. Before I could tell her of my plans, she spoke, "I BOUGHT some things at the Economy Shop that I think the kids might use. Will you help me bring the 'stuff' in?"

Rules 'cut both ways.'

The past few days, I've heard much debate about this year's political primary process. I have limited knowledge and even less understanding of things like caucuses and the distribution of delegates. That said, I keep hearing the chairpersons of both National Party's state emphatically that the 'rules' for their respective primary process were established well in advance and known to candidates.

Still we hear Republican Presidential Candidate, Donald Trump rail against the GOP for establishing and promoting an unfair nominating process. He believes the rules reflect a "crooked system." Well, Mr. Trump I'll just bet there is a bunch of your creditors from your four business-filed bankruptcies that believe the rules, which permitted you to stiff them out of great sums of money were unfair rules that favored you in a very crooked system.

Be Smart

Several weeks ago, I noticed that one television channel had one Murder Mystery episode after another about murder by poisoning. One lady wanted to start a new life and instead of catching the first bus out of town, she decided she'd put strychnine in his cereal to collect insurance and buy some new clothes. That 'love story-gone-badly was followed by concoction tales of strychnine, arsenic and such. Now those are some sick-creepy minds doing that crap. The next day while out shopping, I stopped at a local florist and bought a bouquet of flowers for my wife and wrote on the card: 'Thanks for all those little things you do...keeping a wonderful home, cleaning our clothes and providing such great meals.' Love you...just trying to keep on the good side of the chief cook.

Let me state upfront that I get it about constitutional rights. If the law requires me to have a marriage liscense or a driver's liscense, then the government official hired in a position to execute that service must comply regardless of my race, religion, sexual orientation or if I'm wearing that horrible University of Tennessee 'burnt-orange' color. If I don't get my dues them I'm raising hell.

When it comes to the issues of insisting that the cake baker and photographer (both of whom oppose my life-style), I'm not going the distance against these bigots' resistance. Here's my logic: Whereas the liscense needs are simple 'contract-qualifying ' forms; the photographer and cake baker presents a whole different circumstance.  I will not debate the constitution on these.

Anger the photographer and every photo proof is going to find someone's eyes closed. And when it comes to ANY food (cake or otherwise) I never wish to be a war with the cook. Use some common sense here.

Just 'Go & Get'

If you have ever eaten at McGuires' Irish Pub, in Pensacola or Destin (Florida), you've discovered two things: (1) the food is terrific and (2) the restrooms are purposefully 'miss-labeled.'
On the food side, I like the famous 'Senate Bean Soup' and Rueben sandwich. Regarding restrooms, it's not unusual to see folks walking into the incorrect gender bathroom because those facilities are intentionally miss-marked for a 'joke.'

It's no joke that many states across the country are up in arms with the possibility that transgenders are finding guys in 'drag' entering the women's potty and gals with 'butch-cuts' are going into the urinal room. I suppose many 'uptight' Americans would have those folks join the Bears in the woods.

Forgive me for not joining this goofy-hysteria. After many years of using public restrooms, I am positive that I have often times been in the presence of gays, transgenders, straights and undeterminds. On occasion some of those folks struck me as real weird-asses, especially the one waving under the nearby stall. None of that has ever concerned me. When I gotta 'go,' I gotta 'GO!' I have always feared 'messing my britches' ever since I was a child and my mother warned me to be in 'clean' under wear in case I was in an accident and she had to visit me at the hospital.

Let's accept the notion that all kinds of people are everywhere...we need to chill out. It is well documented that stress can cause us all sorts of physical maladies, i.e. Constipation and the 'holler-in' skitters.' We already have enough worries without this 'who's in the restroom with Dinah.'

A Boy, A Dad and A Game

I watched the St. Louis baseball Cardinals' opening day ceremonies yesterday. I have followed the Redbirds since 1946, when as a seven year old boy,  my dad began teaching me the game. I cannot begin to recall the number of games I've attended and I will see one this week. Of course, I have had my favorite players each season but every time I see the 'Birds-On-The-Bat,' I cannot help but remember that first team I fell in love with: Stan Musial, Red Schoendienst, Marty Marion, Whitey Kurowski, Harry Walker, Terry Moore, Enos Slaughter, Del Rice, Joe Garagiola and pitchers like Harry Brecheen and Howie Pollet.

In the 1940's and early 1950's baseball fans went to the ball park very early because the gates opened for batting practice and 'yes' the starters took a pre-game infield practice. Those baseball staples have long disappeared as has the doubleheader. Today's players apparently are simply too valuable or fragile to embrace such wear and tear.

The Cardinals' home was at Grand Avenue and Dodier Street in North St. Louis back in those days. As a teen, I would ride the East St. Louis city bus crossing the Mississippi River on the Eads Bridge into St. Louis where I'd take a St. Louis city bus to Grand Avenue and transfer onto a North bound street car that dropped me off near the right field pavilion. When the Cards were playing on the road, I would sometimes take the same route to watch the Browns play at the same Sportsman's Park. I especially made that effort when Ted Williams was in town with his Red Sox or Joe DiMaggio and Yogie Berra's Yanks invaded.

As the National Anthem was being played yesterday, I did what I did every time I attended a game with my father. I closed my eyes and thanked God for my dad and asked that the moment would never end. Of course, I knew those days would end, however the game (baseball) continues to allow me all those precious memories.

Play ball! There's a father and son rooting for the Redbirds today.

Polo: Good Place, Great People

My wife and I visited granddaughter, Lindsay who lives in Polo, Illinois. Lindsay is engaged to Reid, who works near Rockford but lives in his hometown of Polo. Lindsay and Reid's wedding date is mid-September. Lindsay moved to Polo nearly four years ago when she accepted a fourth grade teaching position. Lindsay fell victim to a school district cut back and lost her job. However, she landed on her feet and took a fourth grade teaching position in nearby Dixon.

Okay, let me share my impressions of Polo and that group of people who will soon be known as Lindsay's 'in-laws:'

Reid's dad, Papa Paul is unquestionably one of the easiest people with whom to engage in conversation. An intelligent gent with a terrific sense of humor.

Reid's mother,  'Nancy-Nowhere-In-Sight' was 'missing in action.' Wrap your brain around this...Nancy was vacationing in Florida with husband Paul's family. Therefore, I can only make some judgments of Reid's mom based upon Reid's maternal grandma, Shirley Gentry. Shirley is absolutely delightful. Upon meeting her, she asked that Gerry and I guess her age and weight. We both missed stating 71 & 98lbs...the correct numbers are 87 & 93lbs.  Shirley would not be cornered with my question, "Which one of the three Mitchell grandsons is the smartest?" ...although she did indicate Drew takes after the Gentry's whereas Reid and Dane favored the Mitchell's. You're welcome to process Shirley's comment as you wish.

Reid's brother, Dane and girlfriend, Victoria made an offer Saturday on a house near Rockford, which  I learned a day later was accepted...happy for them. Hope Dane has enough money left-over to buy his sweetie a big ring.

Lindsay's mom (our daughter, Dawn), father Shawn, brother, Colin and little sisters, Alexa and Ashlyn joined us for the day, which was great...it also made the sides even in case a premature war erupted, i.e., Hatfield's & and McCoy's.

Early evening, all minus Lindsay's folks made an appearance at Polo's nortorious 'Jeff's Refs' the local pub with  'Cheer's' flavor. My wife was proud of my behavior while at the local wartering-hole. Knowing I was surrounded by Cubs' fans and Republicans, I did not utter one word about the NRA, Hillary or that whinny-ass manager of the Cubs who trail the Cardinals in World Series titles 11-0.

Now, let me tell you readers who may not know. Anytime you can eat food in a small rural community do not pass on the chance. Beef is freshly butchered and I plan to return to Polo next spring for the Polo Firemen's annual community breakfast of homemade sausage, biscuts & gravy, eggs and pancakes.

Polo folks: See y'all at the wedding. Meanwhile, tell the local school officials that I will present two lectures to the school district's athletes, coaches and players...just arrange for a local beef-burger and a bottle of Ale.

A Real Candyman

Oh my gosh! Chicago Cubs' manager, Joe Maddon is a whimpering candy-ass. Two days ago, Cubs' outfielder, Kyle Schwarber tore two knee ligaments, which will require season ending surgery. Yes, this is a most unfortunate injury but those who follow any sport knows two things about sport competition: (1) there are no guarantees but (2) there are risks.

As a long time St. Louis Cardinals baseball fan, I don't recall a season with the plethora of injuries like the Cardinals 2015 season. Pitcher Adam Wainwright, Matt Adams and Jordan Waldon were lost for the season. Other St. Louis baseball players missing significant time last season were Molina, Piscotty, Grichuk, and Matt Holiday. This 2016 spring saw the Cardinals' starting shortstop and number 4-hitter go down with a thumb injury-surgery that will cause Peralto to miss half the season.
A year ago, the St. Louis team 'laced-them-up' and ended up winning the Central Division with 100 wins...in spite of the numerous injuries.

Holy crap, the World Series deprived Cubs just lost a  .246 hitter for 2016 and Manager Joe Maddon is crying a river: "We're going to miss him (Schwarber) no doubt." "A young man in his sophomore season...most talented...out for the rest of the season...it's not easy." "We love this guy...it's a sad day in our locker room." OMG!!!

Hey, Joe, act like a grown up.

A Kind Friendship Gesture

Yesterday, I had a luncheon date with John Conklin and Len Bogle. Conklin is a former basketball player I coached at Mason City high school 1965-67. He was a bonifide all-state player who later served briefly as my assistant at Jacksonville high school before moving into that school district's administration. Bogle was a long time elementary principal in Jacksonville who came from a coaching background orchestrated by his own father. Len has always been an avid JHS and Illinois fan.

John and his wife, Rose split retirement days between Athens, Illinois, Jacksonville, Florida and Marquette, Michigan...you guessed, they have adult children and grandchildren in the latter two communities.

Several weeks ago, John telephoned me to begin the orchestration of an agreeable date and place for our luncheon. As it would work out, Len drove one hour from the Bloomington, Illinois area to Decatur while John made the hour trip from Athens. I think both were 'showing' respect for the older fella.

John arrived in Decatur an hour ahead of the scheduled luncheon so that he could visit with his old coach and show concern and respect for the coach's wife, Gerry. I have stated before that God blessed us with three children of our own but God called me to a profession which allowed hundreds to become my boys; John will always be one of those boys.

The luncheon-time went quickly as story after story rushed a crossed shared memories. We laughed as we reminisced and upon departing made overtures of perhaps 'doing-it-again.' Maybe we will and then again who knows? I do know this, I shall cherish with grateful recall the kindness of two friends.

I will share one of the stories told. Several years ago, our son, Steve was coaching basketball at Peterburg, Illinois. Attending one game was my wife and I along with daughter, Pam, son-in law, Tim and the Conklins. In the middle of a hotly contested game, my daughter, Pam leaned over John's shoulder and said, "John, my sister, Dawn, brother, Steve and me want you to give dad's eulogy." What a priceless moment! Rose, John's wife said, "Oh my goodness, John will go home tonight and start a draft." Today, I reminded John of the eulogy request. John asked, "Coach, Do you have any notes on the subject to share with me?" I answered, "Nope, you're on your own but I'd appreciate your best effort." John began to chuckle and spoke, "Coach, back in the day when you had that whistle and kept running us back and forth for conditioning, I am sure had you choked on that whistle, no player was coming to your rescue...we'd a had that eulogy a long time ago."

Why The South Won't Rise Again

In recent years, we note many businesses refusing to provide goods and/or services to gay and lesbian couples. We have seen this anti-gay attitude even surface in the government arena when a Kentucky Court Clerk refused to issue a marriage license to a gay couple. The argument defines two camps: (1) the gay community rights vs. (2) perceived freedom of religion rights.

This past week the Mississippi Governor signed into law a bill, which protects the religious rights of businesses against the federal civil rights granted to gay Americans. Therefore, we perpetuate a conflict. We have federal laws on the books guaranting gay rights and State laws that can be used to shield against gay rights.

This past week while Mississippi was legislating against activities in American bedrooms, the States of New York and California passed laws raising the minimum wage to $15.00.

Blame Game

Yesterday, I spent time with a landscaping project. I began at 8:30 AM and knocked off at 3:00PM. That may seem to be a long day for an old fart of 77, but these days find me taking more frequent work-breaks, which last longer. During one of those breaks, I gave thought to my past life as a 39-year high school basketball coach. I briefly second guessed that career choice only because that job puts the 'Coach' in a precarious position of having parents trust their kid to his care with the expectation that the kid will become a shining star. Whoa-be-tied if the star fails to shine because there is but one person to blame and that would be 'Coach.' The kid's DNA factors and work ethics is never a consideration for athletic mediocrity.

Many years ago, we were introduced to the phrase, 'no-fault insurance.' I like the phrase, 'no fault' but  I challenge the reader to think of personal experiences with fellow-man...it's usually somebody else's fault. Rare is the individual willing to accept blame. If I had a do-over, I think I would have chosen the career of politician or surgeon. Politicians always blame the 'other Party' and surgeons are covered by a 'code-of-silence.'

Well it was back to my ledge rock stacking and enough of those pondering moments during work breaks. I do that often these days but always know in my heart-of-hearts, I did what I wanted to do choosing a coaching career and I sure the hell did 'it' like I wanted to do it!

If you're in the area, stop by and I'll take a 'break' to visit a spell. If you just drive by check out the front yard landscape. You can blame it on me.

What A Wonderful Feeling

The first time I heard the stated parental philosophy, I was 24-years old, coaching and teaching in Assumption, Illinois. My wife, Gerry and I had a two year old son, Steve. We were visiting with our good friends, Sam and Marilyn; Sam was also a teacher. During a conversation, Sam said, "You guys should make sure that you don't raise just one child because when you are 'gone' that child is left alone." Throughout the years, I have heard other parents state similar attitudes. My own mother always concerned herself that her three boys might not 'stay' connected.

Well, Gerry and I are blessed with three adult kids with terrific spouses, 15 grandkids and two great-grandkids. They are all very close and connected as siblings, in-laws, cousins, nieces, nephews, Aunts and Uncles. I have watched with warmth in the knowledge that it's all good...it's all good in my sight and it will remain good in my darkness.

At age seventy-seven, I am at great peace. Praise God.

Put a Tent Over It

As this 2016 Presidential 'campaign carnival' continues with insane gibberish-jabber, I find so many statements disingenuous and foolishly contradictory. Consider...

Trump..."I will build a wall on the border and make Mexico pay for it." The United States is never going to build a wall between America and Mexico. It's not going to happen because no one will pay for it. And furthermore, it would be embarrassing one day for the President of Mexico say to a United States' president, 'Mr. American President: Tear down this wall!'

There are 59 listed terrorist organizations World Wide, which are identified by the USA. The Muslims Brotherhood is NOT a U. S. Government designated terrorist group as suggested by Ted Cruz.

Ben Carson said, "Most men go into prison 'straight' and come out 'gay." There are two (2) irrefutable  facts regarding Ben Carson: (1) He was a brilliant brain surgeon and (2) He is socially challenged if not a fool.

Rubio equates male genitalia size to hand size. I suppose he has some simpleton beliefs about masturbation and blindness.

Since the National Inquirer endorsed Donald Trump for President can we expect Playboy and Hustler to follow suit?

Trump and Cruz use low-brow claims and innuendos about each other's wives. When challenged about this by Anderson Cooper, Trump answered, "He (Cruz) started it." The last time I heard that 'explanation' was from a elementary third grade classmate.

A well known fact is that minorities tend to distrust the Republican Party...just look at voting stats. Why then would Donald Trump make the statement: "Mexico sends us their drug dealers, rapist and criminals."

It's Blasphemy!

Somebody...anybody, square this up for me.

I hear Politicians talk and pander to the evangelicals. All make personal claims about their own Christianity. Then I hear some of the 'same' speak boldly about monitoring Muslims with neighborhood police patrols. I hear other voices suggest that the United States should put a ban on Muslims entering our country. Finally, there are many would who oppose any number of Syrian refugees being allowed entrance and into America.

However, the Jesus that these politicians tell us they follow said this: "For I was hungry and you gave me meat; I was thirsty and you gave me drink; I was a stranger and you took me in; Naked and you clothed me; I was sick and you visited me; I was in prison and you came unto me."
Then shall the righteous answer Him, saying, Lord when did we see you hungry and feed you? or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see a stranger and take them in? Or naked and cloth them? When did we see you sick or in prison and come to you?

And the King shall answer and say unto them, "Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as you have done it unto the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto Me."

I'm sorry but a Christ follower does not get to change the teachings, they are either  'all in' or NOT!