Or should I say Hall of Shame?
I’ve often thought that Cooperstown should have a separate wing for the Bad Boys. After all, there are some “Bad Boys” in the Basketball Hall of Fame, with the induction of those Detroit Pistons of the late 1980s who earned this gritty nickname like Isiah Thomas, Joe Dumars, and Bill Laimbeer. They were just tough guys on the court and because they were hated and supposedly “played dirty” they were also accused of cheating their way to the championship. Sometimes, rough play can be considered cheating, just as being stronger, bigger, or craftier. The Bad Boys section for baseball, however, would be reserved for the guys who the writers and Hall of Fame executives shunned as cheaters, unworthy of a place on the hallowed walls of this upstanding institution.
So far, the “bad” have been left out in favor of the good, even in these times when bad can mean good, so certainly those currently banned players have their role in the history of the game. There are those guilty by association, groups and pairs like the Chicago Black Sox eight, Jack O’Connor and Harry Howell of the St. Louis Browns, along with Jimmy O’Connell and Cozy Dolan of the New York Giants. Those accused alone were Gene Paulette, Pete Rose, Horace Fogel, Lee Magee, Ray Fisher, Phil Douglas, Jerry Mejia, John Coppolella, Bennie Kauff, and Chris Correa. 24 players in all have been banned by Major League Baseball. Most of these men would not be known except for their indiscretion.
I can remember, as a child, encountering my first cheaters, those that bent the rules in their favor. They pushed and shoved, bullied their way to the front, even tried to trip you up. They peeked at your answers on exam day and stole the candy bar from your lunch sack, or worse yet your lunch money. Some got caught but too many others didn’t. “Rules are made to be broken,” was their philosophy, and they took every opportunity to make themselves a winner, especially in the sand lots where there were no referees. If not, they blamed you for their loss.
Sore losers and poor sports are part of every game, organized or not. Those looking for the easy way to victory are obviously under a lot of pressure to win at any cost. This was initially fueled by peers, parents, and even coaches.
Gambling has gotten many in trouble, as has stealing signals, leaving early on a tag, doctoring the ball or bat, bullying, doping, avoiding the tag, altering the grounds, and age fabrication. It extends from players to top level management and ownership. Those at any level who deliberately violate or circumvent the game’s rules to gain an unfair advantage against an opponent. However, there is also a fine line between cheating and gamesmanship that creates a gray area in reinforcement rulings. The million-dollar question becomes “What can I get away with?”
To be continued…..
Another day in the car but nearing the end. It started with what we expected was just an hour-and-a-half route into New Jersey. Instead, we failed to follow the directions and went more than an hour out of our way. We still had time for a hotdog and gas at WAWA before settling in the Flemington, New Jersey city known for the Lindbergh kidnapping. We enjoyed some snacks with our Florida neighbor friends in their summer home, and then promptly headed for the Unionville Winery to continue our afternoon grazing with a multi-bottle tasting. The evening was then spent over a salmon dinner and a game of Code Names. I was first to bed after once again nursing a painful leg all day and trying to negotiate more stairs.
After a restless night, I tried to get the blood flowing on their basement exercise bike. They served us a traditional Jersey breakfast treat of John Taylor ham on a sesame seed bagel. We opted out of adding ketchup like they suggested. They then drove us to nearby Asbury Park, where we all explored the boardwalk, pinball hall of fame, and a Bruce Springsteen museum. Nearby, was the famous Stone Pony where he and other local musicians like Southside Johnny still perform on occasion. It’s also the sight of unique artwork and a decorative glass dome where the beachside carousel was once housed.
We sat down for slice of Manuca’s spiral pizza, also known as a Trenton Tomato Pie, and wrapped up the evening with an authentic Jersey Italian Dinner, including a dish that they called “Sunday Leftovers” at Marinelli’s Restaurant. They are a couple that likes to play card games so we ended our Flemington stay with Five Crowns -I won! Winner, winner Italian dinner!
We finished off our leftover pizza in the car the next morning while passing through Delaware, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington D.C. on our way to Fayetteville, North Carolina. The short stint in Delaware took my wife’s total state count to 47 – only three to go – Nebraska and the Dakotas, as previously mentioned. Fortunately, nothing eventful happened in route before we stopped at Cracker Barrel and went to bed early in preparation for our last day of driving, the longest of our trip.
An eleven-hour driving day, that was supposed to be only ten, wrapped up our round-trip to Maine. The odometer read 25,112 as we departed the Fayetteville Spring Hill Suites. We passed quickly into South Carolina with only two last states to traverse, Florida and Georgia, soon seeing signs for an out-of-the-way Buc-ees. We planned to pick up the dogs, unload, and return the Rogue rental first thing in the morning. Oops – wrong turn and we end up at Buc-ees for the third time this trip, costing us an extra hour on the road. Maybe the cheaper gas and brisket sandwiches made up for the delays.
The final odometer reading was 25,830, just about 4,100 miles, the longest we’ve ever traveled together by car. It probably is comparable my roundtrip excursion from Indiana to California as a teenager. Once again, I thank my lucky stars for another hassle-free, safe journey where little went wrong and most everything was right. Winner, winner, Italian Dinner!
While my better half went shopping in charming downtown Ogunquit, Maine, I hit the Marginal Way Trail, a mile and a quarter scenic coastline path. It was suggested by an acquaintance that lives here. My wife then met me for lunch at Splash Food & Spirits on the rainy beach. According to the GPS, a four-hour drive would take us to White Plains, NY and the home of friends we met while living in Decatur, Illinois. It turned out to be nearly six with heavy traffic and rainy conditions. We’ve visited them before, unlike our other stops on this trip spent with neighbors met in our current Islandwalk neighborhood.
We eventually arrived in White Plains, just in time for happy hour. After getting out of the car, my left leg was incredibly stiff and sore with lots of stairs to negotiate. Dinner was across the street at Via Garibaldi, and bedtime couldn’t have come sooner. In the morning, I limped my way down the street until the muscles finally relaxed and took the pressure off my sciatica. The girls went into the city by train for a tour of the Morgan Library. The guys had lox and bagels at the White Plains Deli and took a drive out to the Hudson River Marina in preparation for the next day’s boat ride. Once we navigated our way by train and walked to the Bryant Park area, dinner was at L’Adresse before the Water for Elephants performance on the Imperial stage. Uncomfortable in the seats, I thought the show would never and the slow train back to White Plains didn’t get us home until 1a, 3-hours past my bedtime.
Our last day in New York featured boating on the Hudson with fried chicken and Fresca, a “dining” tradition with these White Plains friends who treated us to many boating adventures back in Decatur. Maris, their dog, went with us. I finally got a black & white cookie, as we anchored near West Point. What a beautiful day on the water that ended with a fabulous sunset. We elected to stay an extra night and drive into New Jersey the next afternoon with clean laundry thanks to their Broadlawn Co-op amenities.
Vermont was my wife’s 45th state on her way to 46 and 47, before the day was done. We picked up a celebration magnet and enjoyed the BLT lunch that was packed for us by our overnight hosts. We’ll eventually get her to Nebraska and the Dakotas, so she can join me in the prestigious “50 State Club.” Our overnight reservations were at Otter Creek in the Acadia National Park. We also picked up a New Hampshire magnet on the way there. We had finally arrived at the northernmost point of this journey with the odometer reading 23,960.
When we first crossed the state line, any chance for a photo of the welcome sign was obstructed by a MEN WORKING warning. There were indeed lots of road delays along Hwy. 1, but we did see a covered bridge along the way. Due to our remote location and late arrival, dinner was a disappointing cheeseburger under warming lights and re-heated chowder in a Styrofoam cup. The inn was charming on the outside but had cheap towels, no hair dryer, and a lumpy mattress. On the positive side, there were at least fresh blueberry muffins at check out.
August 8th was our 25.5 first-date anniversary (Eddiversary) and the 11th day of this journey. My wife had lunch with a best friend at Eddy’s Restaurant in Fishers last week, where this particular occasion gets its name. We had also acknowledged the 10-year date when we first moved to Portland, Oregon in 2014 while passing by “sister-city” Portland, Maine.
Our second and final Maine reservation was at Ocean Acres in Ogunquit. Road construction had slowed our progress into scenic Boothbay after shopping and walking around Bar Harbor. We were searching for last night’s elusive lobster roll and found it at the Nautilus Restaurant in Belfast. Dinner was also lobster at the Ogunquit Lobster Pound. My wife picked one out of the tank while I ordered lobster pie. We were pleased to find that our room even had a hair dryer, tub, and a TV that worked without multiple remotes. However, you would think that with a name like Ocean Acres, it would be on or even near the Atlantic, especially with the inflated price tag. Not the case!
Back on the road to Maine, we “shuffled off to Buffalo,” 7-hours away from Indianapolis to visit Islandwalk neighbors at their Upstate NY lake home. I had so far managed to get in a walk every morning, but only a mile on two occasions. My leg continued to bother me, particularly when I first got out of bed, so this limited exercise was not nearly enough to counter all the tenderloins, tacos, candy, wings, cookies, and alcohol consumed. On the way, we passed through Cleveland with memories of visiting the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
21,750 was our starting odometer reading from Venice. It was about 1100 miles from there to Indy and another 500 to Buffalo (23,170). The side trips to Rochester, Kokomo, and North Vernon added 400 more, and by the time we reach Acadia National Park another 800 will pass. It was already the 9th day of our journey. The next stop will be Maine, my 50th state to visit.
Once we left Buffalo and dined at Johnson’s Landing on Lake Erie, we experienced miles of new countryside for both of us. Rochester was about as far north and east I’ve been in New York state. Lake George took us close to Vermont where my travel was limited to ski areas. I did fly into Burlington, but the scenery was mostly snow on the bus ride to Stowe (3,625 ft.). Mount Washington (6,293 ft) is the highest point as we continue east towards New Hampshire and Portland, Maine. This will complete the Portland, MA (43:40 latitude) to Portland, OR (45:30 latitude) circuit, the two cities, one named after the other, are more than 3,000 miles apart but at similar northern points.
We shared what I called a “Buffalo sampler” at dinner that included wings, pizza, and beef on weck. It was great to spend time with our former neighbors that also spend their summers in NY, the first of two such overnight visits in a row. I managed to get a 2-mile walk in before our next 5-hour segment in the car.
While driving in the rain, it had struck me that our current travels had taken us from Rochester, Indiana to Rochester, NY, once home to my Indy friends. Years ago, I came on two occasions to nearby Lake Canandaigua (Can-You-Dig-It?) for a week of partying at their family summer “cottage” of at least twenty small bedrooms, once a fishing lodge or most likely a bordello. I remember a ghostly presence – maybe a result of the drugs and alcohol?
We arrived for Happy Hour at the beautiful Grosso Camp House, constructed of pine, on Great Sacandga Lake, just west of Saratoga Springs and south of Lake George. They made us a delicious salmon dinner before the bourbon put me to sleep. The next morning, I stumbled through a short, hilly walk before we all stopped to take-in a majestic view of the Adirondack Mountains on our way into Vermont.
A 9-hour drive took us from Atlanta to Indianapolis, followed by short jaunts to New Castle, North Vernon, Scipio, and Rochester over the next four days to sample as many breaded tenderloins as possible. The only delays so far had been heavy rainfall in mid-Kentucky and brief, mysterious computer glitches with the rear hatch. We stopped at Cracker Barrel for dinner as we passed into the Hoosier state – “Back Home Again!”
My addiction to baseball cards was evident, as we rolled along, squandering $50 here and there on upcoming Topps Chrome breaks. Lady Luck was not on my side with the cards but kept us safe throughout this journey. I proceeded to devour breaded tenderloins at a Moose, an Elks, and two other casual restaurants with expectations of wings when we finally got to Buffalo and of course Lobster in Maine. I “wandered” the back roads of Indiana, while visiting local landmarks and the homes of two half-sisters. My wife took advantage of my absence and dined with her old pals. We next headed north to her big high school reunion at another small-town Elks Club, passing more cornfields along the way and spending the late night in Kokomo.
I expected to meet many familiar faces from our past while in the Hoosier state, greeting nearly 50 at the Mousetrap, with more to come at the HS reunion gathering. Along the way I had already amassed a collection of gifts including cookies, caramels, a numbered bottle of Field of Dreams bourbon, a glass sculpture made from my birth father’s ashes, and one of his controversial swastika-labeled golf balls. I never knew the man but enjoyed hearing stories about him. He liked to call himself, “Bad News Banister.” I’m glad I wasn’t raised by him. Four of his daughters and I gathered at the Brick House in North Vernon, once the local train finished going back and forth, blocking the way there. You can always expect to be delayed by trains in Indiana.
Six days in Indiana before the next long drive to Buffalo. Before we left, we got to meet our newest family member, as I became G.U.M (Great Uncle Mike) once again. We also lunched with friends from our Egypt trip at Dick’s Drive-In, my wife’s hometown favorite (another tenderloin and Spanish fries). She grew up not personally knowing these Rochester neighbors until we were in a foreign country under coincidental circumstances. 78 classmates then attended my wife’s reunion at the Country Club (in reality just another Elks), near where my Mother-In-Law once lived on Lake Manitou. I dutifully manned the bar and tried to stay out of the way. 25-years prior to the previous reunion, I proposed to my wife on a lake pier.
We bypassed another Tropical Storm with our travels. This was the third time since we moved to Florida three years ago, including Ian, Idalia, and now Debby. Chicken legs on the grill and the houseful of young, rambunctious boys (Cole, Carter, and baby Calvin) kept G.U.M. entertained on Sunday, along with more Olympics action. Our last full day in Indy included Torchy’s Tacos for breakfast and a fill-up of the tank at Costco on our way back from Kokomo. We spent the night there at the Courtyard after the RHS reunion, taking advantage of Marriott Rewards Points. It was time to “Shuffle off to Buffalo.”
It all started with a busy morning of making last minute preparations for the drive to Maine and back. We dropped the dogs off at Schnauzerville, picked up the Nissan Rogue rental SUV, and packed for 19-days on the road. Our first leg was essentially a straight shot up I-75 to Atlanta. My wife’s niece was home for the 2024 Olympics after years of coordinating all the torch runs, so we were able to stay with her for the night and watch the events on TV.
It was the first road trip when I didn’t even bother to pack my running gear, replaced with a cold pack and heating pad. Hopefully, I can do some walking and gym visits along the way while still battling a sciatica issue in my left leg. I took along three last days of steroid medication, but beyond that was expecting pain and frustration. Lunch was at Freddy’s in Ocala, before I took over the wheel, just another pound added to my already overworked, under-exercised and growing frame. Fortunately, traffic was not an issue even in the typical rough construction spots like Sarasota and Tampa. I was pleased with the rental upgrade, offering plenty of room for hanging clothes and survival supplies like water and Diet Coke. A chocolate shake was my Freddy’s splurge on top of the cheeseburger and fries. My wife’s app got her a free burger.
Our first Georgia stop was a rest area, followed by a brisket sandwich at Buc-ee’s – no road trip is complete anymore without a stop to visit “The Beaver.” That put us just a little over an hour from our overnight stop for manicotti, Buc-ee nuggets, and the Olympics. Vodka, wine, ice cream, and Limoncello made for a restless night’s sleep with an upset tummy. I got up for a walk before we made our way to the next Buc-ee’s for breakfast kolaches.
Shohei Ohtani joined the 30-30 Club, despite a recent draught that has hopefully only temporarily dropped him out of the Triple Crown race. In Chicago related sports, the Cubs took the series from the Cardinals to at least rise from the cellar to face the Twins and White Sox, while bed-ridden Steve McMichael was honored by the HOF and the Bears won a rain-shortened game over the Texans in Canton. Former Cubs World Series hero, Kyle Schwarber, now a Philly, hit his 41st career leadoff homer, and the 10th of this season in a 6-0 victory over the trade-depleted Marlins. Alfonso Soriano’s 13 in 2003 as a Yankee is the record he is chasing. Schwarbs and Ohtani faced each other in LA, both in a DH role.
Schwarber homered once in game two and three times in game 3 to boost his season total to 27 (11 lead-off shots) while Ohtani homered in the opener (#34).
Currently tied for seventh on the single season leadoff homer list, Schwarber joined Soriano as the only players with multiple seasons of 10-plus leadoff homers and is not done yet. If Schwarber can get to 3 more home runs from the top of the batting order at any point this season, he will be the first player since at least 1974 to have three consecutive such years. In addition, he’s the first Phillies player since Jayson Werth in 2008 with 3 homers and 7 RBIs in a game. He ties a career high and delivers his first ever 4-4 game. He is batting 364 over the last 15 games.
Ohtani and the Dodgers are slumping, as the surging Diamondbacks and Padres, both with 9 wins in their last 10 games, have closed the gap to two games — the smallest margin since late April. Ohtani’s batting average has slipped to .294 after the Brewers series and from .316 since the All-Star break. He and his teammates travel to St. Louis and Busch Stadium for Players Weekend where he has yet to have a career homer.
Gavin Sheets matched a career high with four hits and drove in four runs, Korey Lee and Brooks Baldwin homered and the Chicago White Sox gave interim manager Grady Sizemore his first win, pounding the New York Yankees 12-2. This was of course after losing 24 of 25.
The Little League World Series is underway, and as we passed through New Jersey, I couldn’t help but think of 1998 when Toms River, New Jersey, defeated Kashima, Ibaraki, Japan in the championship game of the 52nd Little League World Series. The title game was punctuated by a standout performance by future White Sox and 2015 MLB Home Run Derby champion Todd Frazier, who went 4-for-4 with a lead-off home run, and was also the winning pitcher. He retired from baseball in 2022.
As a final note or two, TruTV has agreed to broadcast five Savannah Banana games. I’ve set my record function in hope of catching some of the action. After all, tickets are both expensive and hard to get. Plus, Da Bears are now 3-0 in the preseason. It could be a good year.
July marked the end of the MLB trade deadline, so I was keeping an eye on the wire while we traveled. The Cubs picked up a reliever, Nate Pearson, and All-Star Isaac Paredes in exchange for popular Christopher Morel. The White Sox, after 14-straight losses and only 27-wins in 108-games had yet to make a move until the last few days… pitcher Erick Fedde and Tommy Pham to the Cards, along with Michael Kopech to the Dodgers in a 3-way swap, while the Cubs dealt Mark Leiter, Jr. to the Yanks for futures. The Sox got more prospects in exchange but nothing to rescue this pitiful season.
As the trade deadline loomed, Pham was back with the Cards, former teammate Paul DeJong, also with the Pale Sox, went to the Mets, and Jorge Soler was reunited with the Braves. Danny Jansen of the Blue Jays, sent to the Red Sox, could end up playing for both teams in the same suspended game. This has yet to happen in the 121-year history of the MLB. Injury-prone Eloy Jimenez is moving his medical baggage to Baltimore.
The chump White Sox lost their franchise record 15th, no 16th, no 17th, no 18th, no 19th, no 20th, no 21st straight game, swept by the Mariners, Royals, Twins, and A’s, dubiously besting Baltimore’s 1988 swoon. It beat their previous mark of 14 set less than two months ago, another of the Top-40 all-time losing streaks in MLB history (tied at #38). It’s been that kind of year! They matched the 1988 Orioles with 21 consecutive losses after becoming the seventh team in MLB history to lose 20 games in a row. They join the company that includes:
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1961 Philadelphia Phillies, 23 games
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2024 Chicago White Sox. 21 games
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1988 Baltimore Orioles, 21 games
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1969 Montreal Expos, 20 games
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1943 Philadelphia Athletics, 20 games
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1916 Philadelphia Athletics, 20 games
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1906 Boston Americans, 20 games
The pain and embarrassment finally ended on the threshold of the 1961 Phillies record with a 5-1 win over the A’s. Jonathan Cannon gave up one run over six innings to stave his personal drought while helping the White Sox to their first victory since early July. One straight win! Never mind, “One Straight Loss” thanks to the A’s, followed immediately by the firing of Manager Pedro Grifol, just in time to play the Cubs, another two losses and perhaps the beginning of another record slump by the chumps.
My thigh feels like it’s on fire this morning and my stomach uneasy. Taking both dogs out was a painful chore. The doctor prescribed another round of steroids that I will pick up today, hoping that it will give me at least a few days of relief like the first batch. I feel like I’m being penalized for all those mornings when I could get moving with relative ease. I even slept on the heating pad last night and reapplied the cold pack on my way out the door, both with minimal effectiveness. Sitting down to write is the only normal part of my mornings these days.
Yesterday, we went to the beach, sitting in the back yard of 32-Gasparillo Island billionaires. We were with friends who shared a fried chicken picnic lunch. It was a great day, but moving in and out of the water was a chore for me. I spent a half-hour on the phone with the doctor, confirming the need for an additional prescription. I’m concerned about the upcoming long drive to Maine and being without my chiropractor for three weeks. Floating in the salty water should have taken the strain off my back and legs, but fighting the current and getting back to my beach chair was exhausting. I stumbled trying to get back on my feet, feeling like a Weeble-Wobble. I’m more than frustrated with this recovery process.
Tonight, we go to the Englewood Moose for dinner and tomorrow evening we celebrate my son’s belated 50th at Pinchers. Monday morning we hit the road in our rental car with an overnight stay in Atlanta. Tuesday we’ll arrive in Indiana. As this Friday morning wears on, I should get back enough flexibility in my leg to go to the gym. Fortunately, the pain slowly subsides as I sit upright and let the cold pack numb my thigh. My wife is headed to the beach again, a luxury thanks to where we live, although I hadn’t been there for six long months until yesterday.
The Olympic Opening Ceremonies are tonight from Paris. I’m, of course, not eligible to participate again due to steroid ingestions these past two weeks, but I wish my fellow Americans good luck. It will be good to have some fresh TV to watch, having caught up on all our current series including The Land of Women, Presumed Innocent, and House of the Dragon. Some of these finales will be put on hold until we get back home in three weeks. See you on the Road!
