Author: mikeljohnston1 (Page 72 of 269)
Back in the year 1966, Mao Zedong launched the Cultural Revolution, top song was “I’m A Believer” by The Monkees, movies to watch included Alfie, The Sand Pebbles, The Professionals and Fantastic Voyage, while the most famous person in America was probably Walt Disney. I was a freshman in high school at North Side where I ran the 60-yard hurdles for the track team. I only did that because they eliminated the 50-yard dash that had always been my best event. Apparently, those extra ten yards and a few obstacles in my way were not a winning combination. I hated running long distances so it’s even more remarkable that I can make it 3.1 miles even today. The result, however, is the same – slow.
Major League Baseball has officially cancelled the first week of the season, but there’s been little mention of Spring Training. Will it be pushed back or cancelled entirely? This has to be a pain for our local Atlanta Braves facility that relies on these games for revenue. My understanding is that it will not affect the team owners since it’s owned by the city of North Port. Workers will certainly be without paychecks, hotels will face cancellations, and restaurants will not benefit from the influx of fans for Grapefruit League games. My friends and I will have to find other options to entertain us when they come to town.
It’s millionaires vs. billionaires and the fans and local businesses will be the only losers. I’ll get another ticket credit, as was the case when Covid cancelled Cactus League Spring Training two years ago. I’m still waiting to use those credits for Santana/Earth, Wind, & Fire. Now I’ll have more to deal with. Between disease, fire, war, and now strikes, all of my recent plans have been disrupted. I’m just glad to have a vacation-like home in a warm spot with plenty of recreational opportunities. I’ll never suffer by staying home!
Today is another special Tuesday. Last week it was Two-Two-Tuesday while today is Fat Tuesday. Mardi Gras is in full swing and I’m sure we’ll see some tutus on Bourbon Street today. I’ve already discussed being there for the celebration 50 years ago (See Post #1950). However, in 1965 I was only 14-years old when Ford Motor Company first introduced the Mustang (actually 1964 1/2). Two years later I would take my driver’s license test in a Mustang convertible that my dad bought the year before. For this reason, 1965 will always be memorable for me, and a model of the car sits on my office shelves.
Many times, I’ve thought about buying a Mustang of my own, but even the 50th anniversary model was not to my liking. In retirement, I don’t feel like I need a new car, so the 2008 Solara will have to do for now. My wife’s 2005 Lexus SC 430 is also a popular ride down here in Florida. She’s had several offers to buy it, but it’s not a good time to buy a new car even though we really need a vehicle that can hold four or more passengers comfortably. We still plan to rent for our three-week drive to Upper Michigan this summer.
Our house guests want to play pickleball this afternoon, so I’ve reserved a court and plan to buy some equipment later this morning. We took them to Fin’s last night for dinner, a great spot for the sunset unless it’s hidden behind clouds as was unfortunately the case. We did some whisky tasting afterwards, so I woke up in a bit of a fog. As a result, this morning’s run (day 4,811) was a bit more of a challenge. Also, I stepped on the scale afterwards and found that I had gained a few pounds, so it truly was a Fat Tuesday.
For Indiana basketball this season, no second-half lead ever seems comfortable. It was a 27-point margin at the 13:49 mark after a Jordan Geronimo dunk with the score at 53-36. Minnesota scored an incredible 43-points from that moment on, one every 19.3 seconds, including 6-threes in the last seven minutes. It was nearly another Hoosier collapse, this time at Williams Arena, maybe even greater than against Wisconsin in Madison, except this time they held on for victory. IU even reached the magical sixty mark at 11:55, up by twenty-two. but it all came down to Xavier Johnson free throws for a narrow 84-79 win. The Golden Gophers had cut it to three, a one-possession game, with :05 remaining.
Regardless of the final score, IU got its third conference road win and evened their BIG record at 9-9. Most tournament experts considered them to be one of the last four teams in, with two regular season and at least one BIG tourney game remaining on the schedule. Both IU and Rutgers (10-8), sitting on that scary bubble, would meet in Bloomington next to earn a decisive edge from the selection committee. Michigan at 9-8 was also a factor in the overall scheme of conference opponents that might make the Big Dance. Was there room for nine BIG teams?
I don’t think anybody’s counting on IU to beat Purdue again this season, especially at Mackey on Senior Day with the conference title on the line. Most Indiana fans would be content with simply a win over Rutgers and an elusive invitation to the NCAA Tournament. Maybe we could even get revenge over Wisconsin, Illinois, Michigan, Michigan State, Iowa or Purdue to put some extra icing on the cake.
I admit to having a checkered past, after living in the Indianapolis area for over 25 years. I couldn’t help but become a race fan, but now I’m a spoiled one. I’ve traveled to most every Indycar track in the U.S. The last race that I attended was September 2, 2018 at the Portland International Raceway. In 2017, I took my grandkids to the Daytona 500. 2018 was the inaugural Formula One race in Austin, and in 2002 & 2004 I last attended the Indy 500 after years of practically living at the Speedway. Being in the media business, I always had total access to the drivers and I couldn’t remember the last time I paid for a ticket – until yesterday at the St. Pete Grand Prix. I went with a couple of neighbors, but felt left out without credentials or special seating. We sat on the metal bleachers with the other common folks on the airport straightaway and the only familiar face I saw was Mario Andretti.
I stood at the pit access entrance for an hour, hoping for an encounter with an old friend. I was cheering for Conor Daly, a friend’s son, but he had a disappointing day. Most of the drivers I had never heard of, except for the sons and grandsons of those from my era. Parnelli Jones’ grandson was on the podium for the Indy Lights competition. Graham Rahal was competitive most of the day. Jimmie Johnson made the transition from NASCAR. Teams from Andretti, Penske, A.J. Foyt, and Ed Carpenter Racing created some sense of familiarity. As the cars flashed by, I couldn’t recognize their color schemes or sponsors since it was the first race of the year. Scott McLaughlin scored his first career Indycar victory, after winning Rookie of the Year in 2021. I was a stranger in a strange land of about 150,000 spectators.
I wore an old Red Bull racing shirt that was purchased at the Austin Formula One event, but that team is not even involved in Indycar this year. As a result even my clothing choice was out of date. I’m apparently now a dinosaur, even as a fan, with little association with the sport any more. For years, I sold sponsorships and knew the players, but yesterday I was just part of the crowd. I didn’t have a stinking badge for VIP access or a suite seat to get out of the sun, and even had to pay for a beer. I didn’t arrive by helicopter as was the case for one Indy 500 or in a custom motorhome. I also wasn’t part of the pit crew or hang with the team. There was no police escort, special parking pass, or golf cart. I was just a regular, old race fan for once, but with a checkered past.
The year 1962 was quite eventful in my life, some of which I actually remember. “Telstar’s first live trans-Atlantic television signal, First Beatles single “Love Me Do” released, Oral Polio Vaccine used to combat Polio, Marilyn Monroe is found dead, and the Cuban Missile Crisis takes world to brink of war” were some of the headlines. Standing at the Southernmost point of the Keys last week, we were only 90 miles from Cuba and you could imagine all the action at the Naval Base during those breath taking moments of uncertainty. It’s what made Kennedy such a beloved President.
We have guests for the next week, having picked them up at the Tampa Airport last night. I-75 was like a parking lot so it took an extra 45 minutes to get there, plus I made a wrong turn and mistakenly followed the wrong airport signs, adding an extra fifteen minutes. A late dinner was on the way back at Dockside, a Venice favorite of ours. They are currently out biking and running, while I finish this blog. It’s a beautiful day here in Florida, so we may end up at the beach this afternoon. We’ll crack some stone crabs for dinner.
In trying to make last minute plans to travel to Orlando, the Marriott resorts seem to be full, so a day at Universal later next week may not be possible. Spring Training is also still up in the air, but a decision will be made by Monday in an attempt to resolve that dispute. At this point, the start of the season is in jeopardy. There are numerous music festivals that may end up to be our entertainment instead of the baseball games, or we might possibly see some college or rookie action. Everything is up in the air.
We’re now down to the “Do or Done” portion of the 21-22 season. I would use the phrase, “Do or Die,” but that’s a bit radical for basketball. Four games remained before the BIG tournament and a win in the critical first road game against Ohio State might have sealed our ticket to the Big Dance. Instead, it made another mockery out of the “Rule of Sixty.”
I.U. had already beaten the Buckeyes in Bloomington, but the selection committee is looking for road victories. Only Nebraska and Maryland at the bottom of the conference were such accommodating victims. A win at Value City Arena might have turned some heads, but Ohio State was up by 5 at the half. I.U. was without point guard depth due to injuries to Trey Galloway, Khristian Lander, and Rob Phinisee injuries. Additionally, Xavier Johnson got into foul trouble, but Tamar Bates hit a triple with 5:09 remaining to make it 59-55. This was after the Buckeyes had gone up by 11 at the 13:32 mark. The Hoosiers went on a 20-5 run and looked like they might grab victory from the jaws of defeat. They passed the magical sixty level on a Race Thompson jumper with only 3:29 remaining, in command at 61-57. The lead stayed at four as just under a minute remained, but missed opportunities and free throws allowed E.J. Liddell to tie it at 63 on a dunk with :06 left. Trayce Jackson Davis had all but disappeared and the game was in the balance of poor outside shooting, or no shot at all as was the case when the game went to overtime.
In OT it was all Ohio State, as the Hoosiers only managed 6-points, while the Buckeyes sealed victory with 8 free throws at 80-69. If a game goes to overtime, the “Rule of 60” no longer applies, and it certainly didn’t get us a win in this one. Now, three straight victories over Maryland, Minnesota, and Rutgers are imperative. With five consecutive losses, it was DO or DONE, as far as NCAA hopes are concerned. Otherwise, it’s the NIT.
Maryland was the end of the losing streak, but it didn’t come easy. Once again, Lander, Galloway and Phinisee were out of action and it was all up to Xavier Johnson to lead the team from the point. The Hoosiers jumped out to a commanding 10-point bulge with 4:49 on the first half clock, but nearly squandered it by halftime. This inconsistent pattern continues to be a frustrating standard practice. “X” only managed four points before foul trouble put him on the bench. Fortunately, he got 20 more in the second half, including the magical sixtieth on a free throw with 6:53 to go and an 8-point lead. With good Hoosier defense, the Terrapins finally got to 60 with less than a minute remaining and lost 74-64. Next up are the struggling Golden Gophers.
Here is the wrap-up poem for our adventure to Key West – most of the details are found in the previous four posts (See #1956, #1957, #1958, and #1959):
Key West
High speed ferry,
Key West and back.
Marriott Beachside,
Bags to pack.
We’d had a better,
View of the sea.
If it weren’t for,
My missing ID.
Then we encountered,
A disagreeable zinger.
And my tongue got caught,
In the washer’s wringer.
Alonzo’s dinner,
Conch fritters.
Everywhere around,
Those Rooster critters.
One eventually,
Went after you.
Jumped on your back,
Cock A Doodle Doo.
Six-toed cats,
A manatee!
So much to see,
On the Key.
Southernmost Point,
Scarlet and Rhett.
Spanish Treasure.
Mallory Square Sunset.
Floating Tiki huts,
Boardwalk Moonlight.
Truman retreat,
Where’s the cockfight?
River taxis,
Shuttle stops.
Conch Express,
Flip flops.
Blue Heaven,
Oysters raw.
Shrimp Fettuccini,
La-Te-Da!
Toes in the sand,
Key Lime Pie.
Papa Hemingway,
What a Guy!
Margaritaville,
Duval Street.
Haagen-Dazs Ice Cream,
For a late night treat.
Sloppy Joe’s,
More French fries.
Fancy yachts,
Seagull cries.
We’ll go back,
For what we missed.
And as for the argument,
We made up and kissed.
copyright 2022 johnstonwrites.com
In a blink, it’s 1959 and I’m eight years old. President Eisenhower and Nikita Khrushchev sat at a state dinner with their wives that year – could there be world peace? No – Russia is in the news still today, declaring war on the Ukraine. America is growing with the addition of both Alaska and Hawaii as states in 1959. Plus, NASA announced the “Mercury Seven,” as the space race between the two rival countries begins to take form. We’re supposed to visit both Alaska and Russia later this year on a Viking Cruise from Vancouver to Tokyo. Will war somehow jeopardize this trip, as Covid and fires have claimed others?
I signed up for the Wellen Park St. Patrick’s Day 5k, another neighborhood race to further support our community. Tonight is Hippie Fest, a fundraiser for Relay for Life, an additional way to interact with my new neighbors. My wife’s youngest daughter and husband arrives tomorrow evening. We pick them up at the Tampa Airport after I finish my stint babysitting for my granddaughter. On Sunday, I’m headed to St. Petersburg for the Indy Car Grand Prix. It will then be a busy week of family dinners and entertaining guests.
Tonight is also another make or break game for the Indiana Hoosiers. They face Maryland hoping to break a five-game losing streak. Because of Hippie Fest, I won’t be forced to watch it but will keep an eye on the score. Maryland was the last team that they beat, so there’s little to gain and much to lose.
I’m back in the saddle – my home office chair – after 3 days in Key West. It was a nice break from the routine, but I’m always glad to be back in my own bed, running the familiar route, and writing at my desk. We spent yesterday wandering the Key West side streets and waiting patiently for breakfast at Blue Heaven. The town is all about Ernest Hemmingway and the places he frequented. There is the annual Papa look-alike contest every year at Sloppy Joe’s where he spent much of his leisure time, a whiskey named after his boat, Pilar, his polydactyly cats, and Blue Heaven where he refereed boxing matches.
We never got to Better Than Sex after too much rich food, key lime pie, and alcohol. We enjoyed Twos-day 2/22/22 and smiled at men in tutus celebrating tutu Tuesday. It was every bit as weird as Austin and Portland on any given day of the week. The sunsets were beautiful especially when you sat on a floating tiki hut. Music filled the air, in the vicinity of Jimmy Buffet’s recording studio where he once sang about Caroline Street and Margaritaville. It was also National Margarita Day, adding to the festivities on Duval Street, where his original restaurant sits. In three short days, we saw a manatee, lots of plastic sharks, parrots, pirates, six-toed cats, tarpons feeding, roosters, chickens, seagulls, flamingos, pelicans, dogs, jugglers, acrobats, and street musicians. My wife was attacked by a hungry gypsy chicken that jumped on her back out of nowhere.
I had my last margarita at the Boat House on the marina boardwalk just before our ferry back to Ft. Myers departed. The terminal was near Alonzo’s where we had dinner our first night. Most of the fellow passengers were still in full party mode on the way back, as we caught our last sunset from the deck. Once it was dark, I watched bits and pieces of the movie Ford vs. Ferrari, hoping for a nap that never happened. The hour-and-a-half drive into Venice got us home before midnight and back in the saddle again.