Do you?

It's natural.

We all do, I think.

We all fail.

And we get back up again.

Up and at 'em!

I have failed so many things in so many ways, but I will not give up.

I will not concede.

I will not give in.

I will succeed.

And so will you.

Some Opponnents on the Courts  of the Past

I remember playing Bill Maki. Mackey?  Childhood chum of Pete Wilhoit, who now drums for Plane Fiction. Or Piain Fiction? Maybe I played a bit with Pete, too? And some other Bryan Park buddies, like Jake Smith...yeah...

Is that how you spell his name? 10 year participant of the Bloomington rock group "the Cutters".

We played once or twice at Bryan Park.

As a child, I would play against my sisters and Jenny and Monique. And my farther a few select evenings.

I had some good games in the late nineties with Chad Card, and my doubles partener Paul Schumann.  We won a few games. That was back in Indiana.

I played my wife in West LA at the city park...And against my neighbor, the UCLA med student Kevin Kunz. Kevin? He was good. He would whip me.

I played some games with my uncle Bill and my cousins in Massachusetts, out in Cape Cod.

And down in Inglewood, Florida I had tremendous doubles matches with the old gys down there. That was back in the eighties. 20th century. Those guys were so old they are probably not around now.

Did I ever play my buddies in Ashburn, Virginia? Only table tennis, but that was fun. I need to get on the tennis court with them...

High school had some matches...Mostly forgettble.

I played Elder David Newton down in Santa Juana, Chile.

I think I played a few times in Utah...

Not too often, really.

But overall...

Oh, yes! San Bernardino and Redlands! Fun matches against Mitch Hayden and the young science teacher...And the tennis coach who was fired...

Did I play young David? My student assistant?

Maybe, maybe not. He was a whiner.

But those were good times in the early 2000s...

Good times on the tennis courts.

I hope to make it back some day.

Work on my serve. And net game.

I know I am forgetting a few more...

Clinch

Olympic Dreams, Memories and Applications

Where were you when you remember the first Olympics in your life? Did they inspire and excite you? Did they make you think of your potentials and dreams?

Did the Olympics ever put you in a place of nationalism or internationalism that has continued to play a part of your own identity, your station as a human, your position on the planet?

Have the Olympics made you a more complete individual and human being?

If not, I ask you to consider the following things about the international competition we know as the Olympics Games. The Olympiad, begun modernly the year my mother's parents were born, 1896.

In 1976 I was big five year old, and my family took a long road trip from southern Indiana through eastern Canada and the northeast United States. We took a stop in Montreal and thereabouts, and I remember seeing Olympic Stadium and the site of the events that year.

Watching the ceremonies and competitions on television was an introduction to a bigger world. Of course, everything was pretty big back then, because I wasn't that big a five year old.

Who is?

Bruce Jenner was bigger than life. Decathlete extraordinnaire and American hero. He was Captain America embodied.

Wheaties box legend.

I later saw a movie about him as a child, he had bed wetting problems and he would race home to hide his bed sheets hanging outside the window so his fellow classmates wouldn't see them from the bus.

I had bed wetting problems till I was six or seven years old. At the end of the show about this future world champion, little Bruce hides out in a furniture store and falls asleep on a big bed. It remains dry to the amazement of the parents when he is found the next morning.

He needed a bigger bed.

And perhaps that is what we all need.

How big a bed do we sleep in?

Our country celebrated its 200th birthday that year of the Montreal Summer Olympics.

It has been another 32 since then, and we should know and feel as well as at any time in our national history that we share this planet with many others. And sports are a measure of our unitedness and our greatness, our shared humanity and achievement as a race.

Oil and investments, stocks and energy, food prices and home rentals and purchases; whether we are middle class American citizens or Chinese peasants, Indian corporate gurus or starving Africans, we all are represented through the majesty, spectacle, lifelong effort and sheer determination of the athletes and delegations involved.

1980 was affected by politics. We pulled out of Moscow, which affected Los Angeles in 1984. Things related to the bogey man Osama were getting going back then. But it didn't stop the household names of Carl Lewis and Mary Lou Retton from arriving on the scene.

1988 and Seoul was good, but it was tainted by Ben Johnson being doped.

1992 was great in Barcelona, Spain. USA Basketball became a novelty of domination.

1996 was good in Atlanta, mired by a bombing and the Richard Jewell fiasco. On a personal note, a high school associate that I had a crush on back when won the silver in rowing.

That was a nice touch for me as a guy half way through his twenties, struggling to make a life for myself. Dedication and perspiration can lead to fame and glory. Even to a girl from my neighborhood. But more importantly, hard work and a dream, a goal of destiny may lead to something far more real: accomplishment.

Michael Johnson? Wow.

2000 was very cool in Sydney, Australia. Kathy Freeman was a huge symbol of what humanity can mean to us. Aborigines became a more accepted part of that great land, and thus to the world.

2004 finally made it back to "Hellas" (Greece), the impetus of it all. It was 108 years since the modern restoration of the games, and it was a fitting return.

So here we are in the throes of 2008. Huge gas prices and fires and floods and earhtquakes and typhoons and droughts and wars and extremism and mortgage woes and stock insecurity...

But somehow the Beijing games will show that we have more to hope and dream for than to fear.

Right?

World War War 1 ended the hopes of 1916.

The Second World War knocked out two, 1940 and 1944. 1972 was blighted by the terrorist attack in Munich.

But we must keep striving.

Keep moving, running, swimming, jumping, bouncing, hurling, rowing, twisting, and working as a team, living for the chance, the moment, the culmination and the process...

For the dream.

We live in a big bed.

And there is no reason to fear.

Celebrate the Olympics and its competitors, from first to last, from biggest to smallest.

Celebrate the world.

Celebrate yourself.

Enjoy the best of yourself and humanity reflected in these games.

Do you remember the first time you saw the Olympics? I hope the child in you looks for those moments again. Because they are real and meaningful.

Victory and defeat, life on a stage of grand proportions, all signified by hidden toil and strife.

The Olympics.

Ain't nothing better.

Clinch

Fear the Weaver---Not Jeff, but Jered--Or Both!

I got confused, which is not uncommon.

I was mixing up Jeff Weaver, formerly of the...

Year Team G GS GF W L PCT ERA CG SHO SV IP BFP H ER R HR BB IBB SO WP HBP BK HLD

1999 Tigers 30 29 1 9Tigers 9 12 .429 5.55 0 0 0 163.2 717 176 101 104 27 56 2 114 0 17 0 0

2000 Tigers 31 30 0 11Tigers 11 15 .423 4.32 2 0 0 200.0 849 205 96 102 26 52 2 136 3 15 2 0

2001 Tigers 33 33 0 13Tigers 13 16 .448 4.08 5 0 0 229.1 985 235 104 116 19 68 4 152 3 14 0 0

2002 Tigers 17 17 0 6Tigers 6 8 .429 3.18 3 3 0 121.2 509 112 43 50 4 33 3 75 2 8 0 0

2002 Yankees 15 8 3 5Yankees 5 3 .625 4.04 0 0 2 78.0 840 81 35 38 12 15 4 57 6 3 0 0

2003 Yankees 32 24 3 7Yankees 7 9 .438 5.99 0 0 0 159.1 735 211 106 113 16 47 2 93 2 11 0 1

2004 Dodgers 34 34 0 13Dodgers 13 13 .500 4.01 0 0 0 220.0 935 219 98 103 19 67 9 153 9 14 0 0

2005 Dodgers 34 34 0 14Dodgers 14 11 .560 4.22 3 2 0 224.0 930 220 105 111 35 43 1 157 2 18 0 0

2006 Angels of Anaheim 16 16 0 3Angels of Anaheim 3 10 .231 6.29 0 0 0 88.2 397 114 62 68 18 21 0 62 4 4 0 0

2006 Cardinals 15 15 0 5Cardinals 5 4 .556 5.18 0 0 0 83.1 373 99 48 49 16 26 1 45 1 6 0 0

2007 Mariners 27 27 0 7Mariners 7 13 .350 6.20 3 2 0 146.2 657 190 101 105 23 35 5 80 3 8 1 0

Career G GS GF W L PCT ERA CG SHO SV IP BFP H ER R HR BB IBB SO WP HBP BK HLD

9 Years 284 267 7 93 114 .449 4.72 16 7 2 1,714.2 7,927 1,862 899 959 215 463 33 1,124 35 118 3 1

G AB R H 2B 3B HR GS RBI BB IBB SO SH SF HBP GIDP AVG OBP SLG

1999 Tigers 30 4 2 2 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 1 0 0 0 .500 .500 .750

2000 Tigers 31 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 0 0 0 0 .000 .000 .000

2001 Tigers 33 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 .000 .000 .000

2002 Tigers 17 7 0 2 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 4 0 0 0 0 .286 .286 .286

2002 Yankees 15 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .000 .000 .000

2003 Yankees 32 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .000 .000 .000

2004 Dodgers 34 70 3 15 2 1 0 0 2 1 0 26 7 0 0 0 .214 .225 .271

2005 Dodgers 36 70 6 16 2 0 0 0 7 2 0 19 6 0 0 0 .229 .250 .257 2006 Angels of Anaheim 2 3 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 .333 .333 .333

2006 Cardinals 17 27 1 3 1 0 0 0 3 3 0 12 5 0 0 1 .111 .200 .148

2007 Mariners 2 1 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 1 0 .000 .500 .000

Career G AB R H 2B 3B HR GS RBI BB IBB SO SH SF HBP GIDP AVG OBP SLG 9 Years 249 190 13 39 6 1 0 0 13 6 0 64 22 0 1 1 .205 .234 .247 Jeff Weaver

Jeff Weaver Fielding Stats

Team #### G GS OUTS TC TC/G CH PO A E DP PB CASB CACS FLD% RF ZR

1999 Tigers P 30 29 491 27 0.9 27 9 18 0 3 n/a n/a n/a 1.000 1.48 1.000

2000 Tigers P 31 30 600 46 1.5 45 17 28 1 0 n/a n/a n/a .978 2.03 1.000

2001 Tigers P 33 33 688 49 1.5 49 21 28 0 4 n/a n/a n/a 1.000 1.92 1.000

2002 Tigers P 17 17 365 32 1.9 31 9 22 1 1 n/a n/a n/a .969 2.29 0.950

2002 Yankees P 15 8 234 16 1.1 14 4 10 2 2 n/a n/a n/a .875 1.62 0.818

2003 Yankees P 32 34 478 29 0.9 27 9 18 1 1 n/a n/a n/a .964 1.53 0.950

2004 Dodgers P 34 34 660 44 1.3 44 12 32 0 1 n/a n/a n/a 1.000 1.80 1.000

2005 Dodgers P 34 34 224 39 1.1 37 11 26 2 1 n/a n/a n/a .949 4.46 1.000

2006 Angels of Anaheim P 16 16 89 18 1.1 15 7 8 3 0 n/a n/a n/a .833 4.55 0.700 2006 Cardinals P 15 15 83 16 1.1 16 6 10 0 0 n/a n/a n/a 1.000 5.20 1.000

2007 Mariners P 27 27 147 17 0.6 16 5 11 1 0 n/a n/a n/a .941 2.94 0.909

Career #### G GS OUTS TC TC/G CH PO A E DP PB CASB CACS FLD% RF ZR P Totals 284 277 4,059 333 1.2 321 110 211 11 13 n/a n/a n/a .967 2.14 --

9 Years 284 277 4,059 333 1.2 321 110 211 11 13 n/a n/a n/a .967 2.14 -- Jeff Weaver

Jeff Weaver Miscellaneous Stats

Baserunning Statistics Other Positions Common Hitting Ratios Common Pitching Ratios Team SB CS SB% PH PR DH AB/HR AB/K AB/RBI K/BB K/9 BB/9

1999 Tigers 0 0 .000 - - 0 0.0 4.0 0.0 2.04 6.27 3.08

2000 Tigers 0 0 .000 - - 0 0.0 1.5 0.0 2.62 6.12 2.34

2001 Tigers 0 0 .000 - - 0 0.0 0.0 0.0 2.24 5.97 2.67

2002 Tigers 0 0 .000 - - 0 0.0 1.8 7.0 2.27 5.55 2.44 2002 Yankees 0 0 .000 - - 0 0.0 0.0 0.0 3.80 6.58 1.73

2003 Yankees 0 0 .000 - - 0 0.0 0.0 0.0 1.98 5.25 2.65

2004 Dodgers 0 0 .000 - - 0 0.0 2.7 35.0 2.28 6.26 2.74

2005 Dodgers 0 0 .000 - - 0 0.0 3.7 10.0 3.65 6.31 1.73

2006 Angels of Anaheim 0 0 .000 - - 0 0.0 0.0 0.0 2.95 6.29 2.13

2006 Cardinals 0 0 .000 - - 0 0.0 2.3 9.0 1.73 4.86 2.81

2007 Mariners 0 0 .000 - - 0 0.0 0.0 0.0 2.29 4.91 2.15

Career SB CS SB% PH PR DH AB/HR AB/K AB/RBI K/BB K/9 BB/9

9 Years 0 0 .000 - - 0 0.0 3.0 14.6 2.43 5.90 2.43 Jeff Weaver

Jeff Weaver Miscellaneous Items of Interest

Team [Click for Roster] Uniform Numbers Salary All-Star World Series

1999 Detroit Tigers 36 $200,000.00 - -

2000 Detroit Tigers 36 Undetermined - -

2001 Detroit Tigers 36 $425,000.00 - -

2002 Detroit Tigers 36 $2,350,000.00 - -

 2002 New York Yankees 18 Undetermined - -

2003 New York Yankees 18 $4,150,000.00 - Stats

 2004 Los Angeles Dodgers 36 $6,250,000.00 - -

2005 Los Angeles Dodgers 36 $9,350,000.00 - -

2006 Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim 36 Undetermined - -

2006 St. Louis Cardinals 36 Undetermined - Stats

2007 Seattle Mariners 36 $8,325,000.00 - - Jeff Weaver Stats by Baseball Almanac



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Well, all those stats and you might get bewildered, too.

But it now looks as though his 9 year major league career is over.

And who do we have to take his place?

Jered.

Any relation?

They both are quite blonde...

2006 23 LAA AL  11   2  19  19   0   0   0  0  123.0   94   36   35  15   33  105   3   2   490   1   0  2.56  4.56  178 1.033 RoY-5
2007 24 LAA AL  13   7  28  28   0   0   0  0  161.0  178   77   70  17   45  115   2   4   695   3   0  3.91  4.56  117 1.385
2008 25 LAA AL   7   8  17  17   0   0   0  0  102.7  100   51   49  12   30   77   2   1   428   2   0  4.30  4.08   95 1.266
+--------------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+--+---
---+----+----+----+---+----+----+---+---+-----+---
+---+-----+-----+----+-----+
  3 Yr WL% .646  31  17  64  64   0   0   0  0  386.7  372  164  154  44  108  297   7   7  1613   6   0  3.58  4.43  124 1.241
+--------------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+--+---
---+----+----+----+---+----+----+---+---+-----+---
+---+-----+-----+----+-----+
162 Game Avg    16   9  34  34   0   0   0  0  205.3  197   87   81  23   57  157   3   3   856   3   0  3.58  4.43  124 1.241
Career High     13   8  28  28   0   0   0  0  161.0  178   77   70  17   45  115   3   4   695   3   0  2.56  4.56  178 1.033

That's all.

Peace.

Clinch

My funny post is not that funny---but it will suffice (oh, and it is long---Not Herman Mellville but quasi epic)

This is my attempt at levity and humor to beat out the June 30th deadline for this competition.

I will call it, "The Catch and the Drop and the No-catch and the No-drop,", mostly related to baseball and life. Although football and basketball may be evoked as well, and perhaps the discus, the javelin and the hammer may come into play... 

Who can really know what will be shared in a blog?

The Catch and the Drop and the No-catch and the No-drop

by yours  truly

Perhaps I have been thinking about dramatic plays near the fences due to this hoax of a ball girl making the fabulous catch in foul territory right off the fair mark in a Fresno Triple AAA baseball game.

It was faked. She was a stunt woman, they had cables lifting her, and it was made for a commercial campaign. I found out this truth this morning, the day after viewing it on my wife's e-mail. And buying it for a short while. I was duped! Did you believe this?

But the fact that it was staged didn't stop my mother-in-law from sending it to my wife and later her encouraging me, nay insisting, that I check it out last night. These are people who would normally have as much interest in seeing a baseball highlight as me watching the "best" of a dog show. Not much zeal there. Or, perhaps a novelty and a smile at best.

I was duly impressed by the catch. But I did seriously doubt her position that close to the foul line and home run fences in a game like that. Triple A is not bush league. And Triple A should not be written Triple AAA. I just noticed that. Did you "catch" it?

Anyway, we have all seen great catches in the outfield. Tori Hunter, Jim Edmonds, Ken Griffey Jr, etc. My favorite player of all time, Tim Raines Sr had a few. We all now about Robby Thompson back in 1954 or so. At the Polo Grounds? And I hear that an outfielder named Willie Mays was not bad at making plays, many catches included. Some of those include making throws and reciprocal catches and tags at home.

And then there is Jose Canseco or Dave Parker.

Mr Cuban-Puerto Rican-American bash brother let a ball bounce off his head for a home run. While running to the fence.

If a part of you does not chuckle at this, you need to re-evaluate your standards of hilarity and hijinx.

A home run! Now there are errors, and gloves cause funny catches and drops, over the fence, in the ivy (Wrigley Field), and all the endless possibilities of fan interference, but Jose takes the cake. That is usin' yer noggin.

Dave Parker, famed power hitter in the Cinncinnati right field, at least once, let a routine drive drop while blowing a large bubble of gum while chewing and hence inflating said bubble gum from his lips and gums. Gum . Gum rhymes with dumb.

I consider that an excellent lesson in English.

Dave Parker, a man whose size could rival Canseco, pre -steroids era (well then again, maybe not), had this lackadaisical way of flipping his glove at catches anyway, kind of like a guy snatching his car keys when tossed over his head to him from five feet away.

Whoops. It slipped, boss! Bazooka madness.

And speaking of right field and greatness and Wrigley Field, I will never forget when I saw "the Hawk " Andre Dawson throw a guy out at first when he scooped up his line drive to right field and Andre gunned it to the first baseman, perhaps Leon "the Bull" Durham.

The play was amazing, and just thinking about the hitter trying to make it to first base and seeing this unfold on a normal solid base hit? Of course it would not have been complete without the teammate being ready in kind.

To make "the catch".

Good on ya, mate. They call him The Bull. Right next to Rhino, across the diamond from the Penguin.

Infielders are always playing catch.

A good skill to cultivate.

How fantastic would it be to hit a smasher to the "the Penguin" Ron Cey at third, he tosses it to Ryne Sanberg "the Rhino" at second who then finishes the double play to "the Bull" at first?

Sometimes The Hawk would back up a run down.

What a zoo.

But these were the Cubs of my youth. Small fuzzy bears.

Bears are great catchers. Especially at pickinet baskets. Although there are plenty of boo boos. Just ask the baseball sage catcher Yogi Berra.

Do I need to quote him? What does he have to say about catching?

"We made too many wrong mistakes." (Yogi doesn't deny he said this. He said that he won't deny that he said it because it gave him such a thrill when former president George Bush quoted Yogi as having said it.)

But you could counter this quote with:

"I didn't really say everything I said."

Well then, no need trying to correctly quote him, then.

But the Cubs in the 1980s were THAT cool. Worth a Yogi Berra quote.

What a zoo. Catching my drift?

Catching the spirit?

I remember two rather funny things about my freshman year of high school somewhat related to what I have gotten "caught up" into already.

One was my Cuban-Puerto Rican-American Spanish teacher, Pedro Sainz. He was a first year teacher coming from the great island Commonwealth of Puerto Rico. Like Canseco, he was a Cuban transplant via PR. From his plane flight to Chicago to my hometown five driving hours to the south, he accidentally took the bus to Bloomington, Illinois, instead of his real destination, Bloomington, Indiana.

An easy enough mistake to make.

Too bad it cost him 4 days to correct. Yes, the return visit to Chicago rather than the 4-5 hour correction across state lines, etc.

"Lost in translation" and stuck at the "terminal".

Bill Murray knows about baseball catches. So does Tom Hanks.

It just doesn't matter and no crying in baseball.

Pedro, as a new swimming coach at our public high school in 1986, Bloomington South, somehow ended up with many recruiting "catches" at our pool. There was a Puerto Rican back stroke Olympian named Manuel Guzman, a Brazilian wiz kid named Eduardo Silva, a Spanish swimmer whose name eludes me (Ed Sanchez, I believe), an outstanding breast stroke transfer from California, Steve Weir, plus a really good free style swimmer from Bedford, Indiana, a half an hour down south.

My locally born and bred friends all competed, but our teams were dominated by "foreign" talent.

Pedro retired from his postion before the rest of the state caught on and caught fire about the IHSAA (Indiana High School Athletic Association) rules on not recruting athletes to your school while in secondary education.

Good catch, Senor Sainz. You have to know when to drop a hot potato, after winning the state championships and breaking many state records with an international cast of competitors, many of whom were attracted to IU's swimming coach legend Doc Councilman and the Division I swimming program a mile or so from our school campus.

That same year as a 15 year old finding my own en media pubescence form as an "athlete", our physical education class had our spring unit playing baseball. I had normally been adept at playing the game that I inwardly feared failing and embarrassing myself in. I was an awkward teenager close to six footer and trying to get my body right, but I had naturally ability to catch and field. And hit. Always had been decently coordinated.

Evan Thomas was a different matter. Evan never had good coordination on the fields of play, and he would be the first to admit this.

His throwing form was herky jerky and ugly to witness. Sort of what a 1970s robot would do with a pitch. C*ck back, release...And the accuracy was not a constant. And the trajectory was never pretty or smooth.

We had observed it from 4th grade in the early eighties, and his catching and other motor skills were not much better. Most of our mutual experiences were on the football field, recess games of nerf football pick up games.

We liked to put him on the line.

So we played these PE games 9th grade year divided amongst other freshman, but then culminating our unit with an All Star game against some upperclassmen.

I don't know how Evan was allowed onto the outfield, but somehow it happened.Our high school coach and gym instructor, Jim Werner, somehow made the call.

Bazooka madness.

Evan, by then, may have been taller than me, at 6'1" or 6'2" and gawky. Not skinny, and not fat, but clumsy. He probably weighed 200 pounds. Non-athletic weight, to be sure, but to his credit, he could ride a bike well . He had some strength.

But sports with balls? And motor skills? He kind of ran like a duck. Or a guy with bad shin splints. Or nerve damage. But a really nice guy and a friend all the same, don't get me wrong.

By the end of the game against the big boys, we needed one out and they had guys on base to win the game at the last at bat. One more out and we would win.

It was a smash. High and rather shallow. I was playing deeper center right, and Evan was ahead of me maybe 20-30  yards. We put him there to be out of the way.

Had he not been there, I could have jumped up and made the play with a lot of effort and some luck.

But he was fixed there with his sights on the ball in the early morning spring skies, clear and greyish. The sun was up and menacing, if I recollect well.

The ball sored, and our hopes were diminishing as we saw who was there for the grab, or the imminent drop.

The catch to seal the game. Or dropped ball for shame and humiliation.

Our freshman pride. All or nothing. In the shadows of the mitt of Evan Thomas.

I ran up close, thinking I could maybe snag a deflected drop or a complete miss...But it took me a while to get there. I had to decide quickly if I would try to jump and make the catch above or around him. Catch or no, this would look c*cky and as poor sportsmanship on my part.

And Evan stood his ground, raising one single glove high above his head with a stiff arm instead of cradling it in two hands in front of his face as most coaches would prefer for a pop up.

And then the catch happened.

It stuck. Straight into the glove and it stuck.

Jubilation.

Few times in my life have I wanted to hug a guy so much, dance and sing and shout for joy. And frolic.

The catch!

Freshman year. 1986. Puberty is overcomeable.

And then there was the no-catch.

Fast forward to 1997.

My girl friend at the time, Jenni Davis, convinced me to play on the intramural softball team at Brigham Young University.

As a post grad, I got special waivers and paid a fee to participate. I was 26 and not in the best shape of my life. They put me at catcher a lot, and I would often platoon with another guy. I probably weighed in at 215 rather than a better shapely 195.

To put it into perspective, last year at 36 years of age I got down to  a svelt 178 and muscly (ahh, I suppose that should be muscular. But I was skinny). I am now at 205 but I will get down to 190 by the end of the summer.

Anyway, a big brawly guy on the opposing team smashed the ball over our outfielders heads and kept rounding the bases. This was the first of two championship games. His confidence or arrogance rubbed me wrong. I had a plan.

We had really good female talent, the least of which was my girlfriend. And some decent guys, too. I was among the least of them. But I thought I had savvy and pluck.

So my plan was to pretend to catch a toss in from the outfield to his dismay, all the while assuming he had a clear path to home on a inside the park home run.

I wanted to fool him by chasing him back to third.

But he was so dead set in lumbering into home plate, by the time he got there he really didn't think I could have possibly gotten a ball there that fast from our outfield, which was chasing his smash a mile away in a ditch.

I faked the catch and applied the tag on his leg as he passed me to the plate. Empty glove. Whoops.

Bazooka madness.

What the flip?

He looked back at me, and within an instant went ballistic upon realizing my trick.

He almost struck me. He was up in my grill, ranting and raving while multiple people from both teams, including some umpires, were separating us from sure physical brutality.

He was mad.Frothing at the mouth, I would say.

I was apologetic.

Sorry, I said, that is how we play basketball sometimes! I am from Indiana, that is what we do!

He went off on a tirade how his knee had been messed up because of sliding on a fake play like that a few years back, and that was cheating, and it took him a long time to recover from that terrible incident.

I stood corrected. I said I was sorry and wrong.

And evicted.

I felt contrite. But no blows were landed.

We won the game after our mutual eviction. He was more valuable to his team than I was to ours. The wind was sucked out of their sales, it seemed.

And we won the subsequent and following match, which I was allowed to play in.

We won the championship shirt, which I wore proudly thereafter for years.

The "no-catch".

A few weeks earlier than that championship series, I had an ignomious drop, but only warming up.

I was throwing and catching with a fellow teammate on the sidelines waiting for our game upcoming. He was a nice enough guy, who could not not throw the ball respectably slow, but he would zip the thing really fast. Despite my warnings.

I told him more than once to slow it down; to no avail.

He would pepper his practice throws at me. I couldn't catch all of them. Only make sure they didn't plunk me.Finally, one went sliding away to my upper right, my mitt deflected it by a bit and it promptly struck a female co-ed in the head, sitting on the sidelines watching the current game on the third base side.

She was a bit upset and hurt and teary eyed and glowering, not necessarily in that order.

I apologized to the best of my ability, but at that point it didn't matter much. The blow was dealt, the damage was done.

I dropped the catch. I was both mad at my own teammate and myself.

What a dumb thing to do to an innocent bystander!

I was 26 years old. My teammate was maybe 22 or 23.

What is seniority for, but to protect the weak and the innocent?

I dropped the errant pitch.

I "dropped the ball"on  reigning in this kid's over-enthusiasm.

Someone got hurt. That is not cool.

No bazooka madness.

Last part. Catch or drop?

Later that year, I was back in the great Midwest and my dad and I drove the seven hours to Detroit to see my favorite player of 16 major league years play at Tiger Stadium. Tim Purple Raines.

My dad and I sat behind first base.

Sometime in the middle of that Friday night game against the Yankees, third baseman Charlie Hayes popped up a towering high foul into the crisp autumn air. It was dark already. The white lights were glaring.

It was a moon shot, and was coming our way.

Many people gathered around to get the ball, but I was the tallest and had the best position.

I stuck my left arm straight up, much like Evan Thomas did of so many years prior.

Perhaps because of the smaller people around me, I did not use proper form on my catch.

No cradling, no "can of corn" technique. Just like Evan Thomas! Only he had a glove.

Maybe I felt like by pulling in the catch properly I would end up hurting someone below me or they would simply jostle my catch and I would lose it in a jarring mess.

I tried the Evan Thomas straight arm squeeze, only this time bare handed.

I tried to the best of my ability to clamp on to the ball while straining with my outstretched arm.

Nope.

It popped out and some kid got the ball off the subsequent caroms under the seats.

Just as well. He would get a bigger thrill out of that ball than me.

My dad and a guy next to us that we had befriended chided me for the drop. It seemed other fans behind us did, too.

So close to greatness!

I attempted to get my pride back, and I nursed my burning palm back to normal.

I dropped the ball.

But it didn't go to my head.

It's OK to sw@llow your pride in life and baseball.

Right, Mr. Canseco?

Can you get that embarrassing moment back?

No way, Jose!

Your brashness will accompany you with that play forever. No matter how many good things you did on and off the field. You needed to learn how to "drop" things like airing dirty laundry when it was yours that was the dirtiest.

Let it drop. Don't get caught up in finger pointing.

Don't blow it. Sorry. A game by Parker Brothers.

Bazooka madness.

Catch it!

And keep dropping by!

And don't drop out just because you catch a hint of sarcasm, sentimentalism and nostalgia.

These are things not to be dropped. Catch your breathe and the sense of yourself and life, and catch up with what you know is yours.

What is the catch?

The catch is probably your family.

Go play catch with them, and never drop the ball...with them.

And when you do drop it, pick it up, apologize and keep on keeping on. Don't dwell on it too much.

Catch my drift? Bazooka madness.

Clinch

Hoosiers Make the West Coast Better--part one

And the saga of basketball continues.

We should all know that the icon John Wooden was weened on hoops in Indiana, both in high school in Martinsville and then up the road at Purdue University.

And then Westwood beckoned. You have heard of the Bruins: Lou Alcindor and Bill Walton, and many others...10 rings.

It happened to me, too, in  a sense.

But not so much basketball, really. And just one ring. A wedding one. Eight years ago.

Just as a fan, I guess, of basketball.

From southern Indiana to the city of Los Angeles.

And now Eric Gordon, Junior.

Clippers.

Did Elgin Baylor find his lightning in a bottle?

Will Maggette and Kaman have their little assassin? He weighs over 220 and rocks the rim like a #### blaster, and he rains threes as well as Reggie "Riverside" Miller or Jason Kapono...

DJ White got traded to Seattle...More on that later. Of course, he is an Alabama transfer...

But when it is all said and done, the next ten years will be crazy Hoosier madness between Portland with Oden, LA with Gordon and Seattle with White.

Enjoy, Left Coast!

Maybe the Warriors should look for a Hoosier, or even a Boilermaker...Or someone from IUPUI...All those Hoosiers.

Clinch

The NBA Draft and Future Hopes: The Case for EG and DJ

Who are these two blokes?

You know I am an Indiana homer, but I think I can honestly say that Eric Gordon Junior (often know as EJ for this nomenclature) and DJ White are both going to be huge plusses for their future respective teams.

Eric Gordon, 6'3" SG/PG freshman 19 year old, will be like a Dwayne Wade or Ray Allen. His first step is killer, he will light anyone up on the line, and his three range is unstoppable. Don't leave him open.

He weighs 215 now, and has been listed as 6'4". He is a keeper in the first five picks of the draft and he will hurt a lot of defenses for the next 15 years. You want this guy.

Somebody compared him to the Bull's Ben Gordon.

Wrong. He's better. And bigger.

Speaking of bigger, DJ White is 6'9" and beefy. He shoots the 15-18 foot jumper well and posts up well. He can rebound and block shots.

I have predicted he will have a better NBA career than Ty Hansbrough. Time will tell.

He needs to go in the top 20 in the draft next week.

One guy, and alleged sports writer, didn't have him selected in the first round!

Ridiculous.

This guy will make you a winner for the next 12 years.

Blog it.

Peace, bloggerini.

Clinch

Boston and the Cycle, Things are OK and College

Where were you when the Boston Celtics (presumably of Irish origin) first won their very first NBA ring?

If you are at all near my age, you were not born yet. What year was it?

1957, as I check my ESPN Sports Almanac.

My dad was a 19 year old from Wilmington Mass, (North Boston) and soon to be twenty. He would end up attending approximately five colleges, including four years of the Air Force and 2 1/2 years of the Peace Corps before moving to Indiana. Hence me.

And meanwhile, the Celts of Red Auerbach fame was racking up the wins.

Bill Russell won the last two of the sixties, and then they got two more in the seventies with Bill Cowens, 3 more in the eighties with Bird, McHale, Parrish, DJ and Ainge...

And the nineties came and went, sans Bias and Reggie Lewis...

And then Ainge came back (after Red had died) and got the right pieces.

And it happens again. #17.

Last time for me in 1986, I was 15. Now I am 37.

Put up another banner.

My dad never got any college degrees. I have three so far. I am in the running for a fourth (an Associates), and we shall see.

Ironic, this cycle of life.

I don't know if Red Auerbach ever earned a college degree.

Doesn't matter in the end.

Does Kevin Garnett have one yet? Doesn't matter right now. He is a tenured veteran of one of the most demanding schools in the world.

Paul Pierce attended Kansas. Ray Allen, Connecticut. Rajon Rondo, Kentucky. Kendrick Perkins? Not sure.

PJ Brown and Sam Cassell? I think the latter went to Cinncinnati. Like the Big "O". Eddie House? Leon Powe attended UC Berkeley, and Glenn Big Baby Davis LSU.

Pollard was a Jayhawk and Scalabrine a Trojan of Southern Cal.

Tony Allen got his training at OK State, right?

We have been to college, paid a few dues, and we win our championships in cycles.

My boy is almost two now. Celtics win it, like they did in 1973 when I was that little almost.

Congrats to the continuing cycle.

Gleen Doc RIvers? You tell me.

Danny Ainge? I'll tell you. He went to the university where we of my faith credit an 18th century visionary, Brigham Young.

No more cigars lit by the GM for now.

Just another ring for the Celtic finger and another banner in the rafter.

At the Garden.

Peace. Clinch rogers out.

This would bring the most recognition to the NBA and its players.

Garnett and Pierce and Allen.

They are not lawyers, but they have some powerful associates.

Peace in the Middle East.

Clinch

The following was one of my first posts over two years ago, and I must amend it and update it...

Original print in red. Favorite Champion Teams...
Jan 12, 2006 | 4:05PM - Edit | Delete

to qualify, I had to like the team previously... as in, before the season (started).

(years I liked the team)

1) 1987 IU Hoosiers, college b-ball (1975-present)

My hometown and eternal love. The reason my parents moved to Bloomington in the first place in 1967? A guy in Sierra Leone in the Peace Corps told my father that if he wanted to attend IU, he had a connection. I guess that was it! And then he quit his studies and established his career there. And there I was. Home.

Hoosiers is home. Anywhere in the world, the roundball takes me back. And 1987 was my best moment of victory. My sophomore year of high school at Bloomington South. Steve Alford, Daryl Thomas, Ricky Calloway, Dean Garrett, Keith Smart and the bench players Joe Hillman and Steve Eyl.

Wow. 

2) 1984 BYU Cougars, college football (1978-present)

I didn't follow this team as closely as I would have liked. I was not as invested in college football as I would soon be. Perhaps this result lead to it. I saw BYU beat Michigan in the Holiday Bowl on TV, and it was a perfect season, enraging the future BCS leagues to be.

History, all right. LaVell Edwards deserved the credit for so many great teams from the late 1970s until that pinnacle year with Robbie Bosco.

They were perfect. They beat ranked Pittsburgh and everyone else, including the annual PAC 10 opponent.

They shall make it there again.

Bronco is on a mission. I heard him speak. He's powerful.

3) 2005 Chicago White Sox, MLB (1992-present)

Tim Raines not only got me to switch alliances with teams, from the Montreal Expos to the Chicago White Sox, but eventually to prefer the AL over the NL.

Raines, Sr. did not last in Chitown too long, just long enough to really enjoy Frank Thomas and Ozzie Guillen and the organization.

10 years after his departure from the snake bit Pale Hose, they have their breakthrough season while I was back down in Chile.

I missed most of the second half of the season, but through the Internet and a fortuitous friend in the Angol City of the 9th Region, I was able to see history achieved. Just a little over 5000 miles to the south. Maybe six.

4) 1996 New york yankees, MLB (1994-1998)

Rock Raines, childhood hero since his his rookie year of 1981, got picked up with the resurgent Yanks. I had started pulling for the Yankees a couple years prior, due largely to guys like Don Mattingly, a native Hoosier who was simply fun to watch play the game. Pettite and a few others were a fun team to see come together, like Big Cecil Fielder.

And Raines helped these guys come back against the Braves and snag their first ring since the 70s of Reggie Jackson, the first World Series for my guy Timmy in his fifteen year career. I was 26. I had waited for this since I was 10.

5) 1981 IU Hoosiers, CBK (1975-present)

I was young but I appreciated this team more as time wore on. Isaih Thomas, Ray Tolbert (my favorite), Landon Turner, Ted Kitchell, Randy Wittman and bench player Jim Thomas were the first 9 loss team to win it all.

Reagan was shot and then the Tar Heels cam up short.

Zeke had his day in Philly and went pro. Knight had his second championship in Philadelphia.

And this pushed me to want and expect more from my Hoosiers. The hunger and expectation has been there ever since.

6) 1976 Indiana Hoosiers, CBK (1975-present)

I was a tike of five years old. But this championship, the first for the General and the last undefeated team in NCAA basketball made its mark.

Kent Benson was a giant who entered my parents' copy shop. Quinn  Buckner went on to play with Larry Bird in Boston. Scott May was the All-American who had broke his arm the year before.

Other names float around, including the names established by the '73 Final Four Hoosiers...Bobby Wilkerson, John Laskowski...

7) 1989 Detroit Pistons (1981-1994)

Zeke, Dumars and the Microwave, OH MY!

Laimbeer, Rodman, Spider Salley and Rick Mahorn made them the "Bad Boys", but I was so relieved at the change of the guard from the Celtics and Lakers.

All hail Isaih! He got his rings. And Rodman and the other big guys were pushy but you had to love Joe and Vinnie Johnson.

8)2004 Boston Red Sox (1975-1980s, more or less 90s, 2002-present)

Ahhh, put the ghosts to bed. My grandpa can rest easy in his grave. What a relief. So much talent, so little gratification.

About time, Beantown!

9) Hmmmm... Honestly, that might be it No. There are many more favorite teams that should be added. But: do conference and league champions count? Hmmmmm...

Conference champions count, right? Like the 2000 Pacers and the Utah Jazz in 1997 and 1998...

There are other conference champs that I must include.

 .There are other teams that I have enjoyed immensely in seeing win it all, but they were bandwagon victories...I guess there are a few IU and BYU teams in there, but not necessarily .........................."Champions"overall......
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Oh yeah, 2005-6 Indy Colts (1984-present)--but not by getting upset by Pittsburgh! An then the Wild Card goes all the way... My sister wants to own them..someday... (updated March, a month and more later).

You know what I just realized? I totally negected the sports of tennis, the Olympics, soccer and boxing!

There are a few that I could remark on.

Maybe abother blog post...