Category: Chicago Cubs (Page 17 of 26)

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Old Sport Shorts: Beavers #535

May 20, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I’m bored with sports because my teams are either not playing or not winning. Today on television I watched my newly adopted team, the Oregon State Beavers, lose a tough college baseball game at USC. The “Beavs” had easily won the first two of the series, that I didn’t watch. In fact, I’m beginning to feel that there’s a connection. I’ve seen them win in person twice this year so watching on TV seems to be the problem. The same applies for the Cubs and White Sox but considering that the Sox are the worst team in baseball so far this season, it probably wouldn’t matter if I saw them on TV or in person – they would still lose. Come to think of it, I also watched them lose on TV to the Dodgers in the 1959 World Series, so this viewing curse dates back to childhood. The Cubs did at least just win 3 out of 4 games against the lowly Reds to ease some of my pain but had to contain myself not to turn each of these games on.

The Beaver game today was particularly disappointing because they had not been shut out for nearly two full seasons. Also, with a win, they would have moved up to the #1 spot in the polls after a winning streak. They could only muster five hits, matching a season-low, and gave up 8-runs after limiting the Trojans to just 2 total in the previous two games. Oregon State has yet to claim a sweep at USC in the history of the program. I feel bad for watching the game on TV and costing them a key victory.

As a result of these recent sports woes, I want to either go back in time or jump ahead. It’s intriguing to think about what’s ahead and rewarding to go back and revisit the past. I’ve had some great moments through the years and have tried to log them all. Here’s my top 10 moments of being there:

IU wins NCAA in New Orleans over Syracuse in 1987 on Keith Smart’s bucket (3/31/87)
IU upsets #1 and once-beaten UNLV in 1986 New Orleans Final Four (3/28/87) w/Bill
Cubs win game 5 of World Series over Indians (10/30/16) with my wife
Sammy Sosa hits home runs 61 and 62 with Adam and Dad at Wrigley Field (9/13/98)
White Sox win game one of 2005 World Series at Cellular One (10/22/05) with WAND crew
Pancho Carter’s Indy Car Pit Crew Elkhart Lake 1986
Indy Qualifying Picture 1986
Indianapolis Indians AAA Classic celebration on field with Randy Johnson and team 1988
Chopper into Indy 500 and Private plane to Bloomington for IU game
Finishing Detroit Marathon (10/14/79)

Retirement is not without Hassles: Homebody Heaven #530

May 16, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I could be described as a wordsmith, putting words together to make a statement. I enjoy word games, word puzzles, rhyming words, and finding the right word. It’s a craft where some people make a living, others just enjoy it, and still others are lucky enough to benefit from both. For now, I’m strictly in the category of enjoyment.

In last night’s Broadway presentation of Evan Hansen, the lead character is advised to write a letter to himself. It gets him in major trouble. I write a letter to myself every day in the same therapeutic manner. So for, I’ve gotten little feedback, except from my wife. It hasn’t jeopardized any relationships or friendships, but perhaps it could. I guess I’m living on the edge of danger. As I put words together every day, occasionally I will find some that compliment each other. For example, sometimes I’m seen as a “homebody,” where life is comfortable and safe. We travel a lot, so coming home can often be a relief. I used the alliteration “Homebody Heaven” in yesterday’s blog (See Post #529). I then frequently do searches to see if others have copyrighted or coined these phrases. Sure enough, there is a shopping website homebodyheaven.com and another that uses the variation Home Bodys. I want to make sure they get credit for their creativity, so I’ve included links. They express a similar bond about enjoying your time at home, and more specifically buying items to beautify your home.

I’m returning from five days in New York City, and wrote about some of my experiences. On the flight home I got restless watching video, and needed to write for awhile. I’m a bit A.D.H.D., an explanation of why I frequently waver between excessive travel to the other extreme of “homebody heaven.” Also, while I’m home I can’t stay still for long or focus on any one thing. I will go for a run, walk the dogs, clean, occasionally cook, read, watch a documentary, fold clothes, write lists or diaries, watch a movie, surf the web, play a game, shop online, watch sports, or play with financial spreadsheets. Many times, I’ll try to do all of these at once. To me, life is all about variety, and the real reason why I never get really good at anything……….

You see, I’m now back after another diversion, ready to write another paragraph. Has the mail come yet? Are the Cubs playing? How much of my retirement savings did I spend on this last adventure? Will the funds hold out? Did I book that flight, hotel, rental car for our next adventure? What else? My mind is always busy…even if I’m not. Likewise, my blog is divided into many different categories, so I can bounce around between travel, sports, running, pets, and retirement. There’s even some subcategories to further keep me from maintaining focus.

Should I be embarrassed that I have a lot of down time at this stage of my life? Should I be looking for more constructive ways to spend my time? There can be a lot of guilt in being comfortably retired. I wish there was a way for everyone to join me in “Homebody Heaven.” Stay tuned for the next episode, or go to the website and do some shopping from and for your home.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Grandpa J. #527

May 14, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I was devouring my last bite of porterhouse steak at Peter Luger’s Steakhouse in Brooklyn when I got the photo of my new baby granddaughter, Nora Grace. She is a 6 pound, 11 ounce, 19 3/4 inch bundle of cuteness. After the bacon appetizer, beers, fried potatoes, rolls, and cheesecake, I did what every retiree does to celebrate – took a nap. It can be exhausting being a grandfather thousands of miles away, so once I recovered from the delivery process, I immediately sat down to spread the news. Nora joins Gavyn and Maddux, the day after Mother’s Day, as my three little amigos. I felt guilty last night going to Gavyn’s favorite, SpongeBob SquarePants, at the Palace Theatre without him. After all, I wouldn’t even know the character if it weren’t for him. To help make up for my disloyalty, I bought him a t-shirt that says, “Best Day Ever,” knowing that today would be that day, with the planned birth of his new sister Nora. We also went to the M&M‘s store and splurged on gifts for all the kids that I’ll send along with a couple of new outfits for the baby.

I’m sure she’ll call me Grandpa J., just like the other two kids, because like any Modern Family they have several addressed by that grand title. I’m the only one that shares her last name of Johnston (J). Grace was my mother’s mother, and my son Adam’s favorite grandma, although I suppose she could have been named after Mark Grace, former Cubs’ great. I acknowledge this because Maddux is named after Cubs’ Hall of Fame pitcher Greg Maddux, since Cubs team loyalty runs in our family. Gavyn, on the other hand, probably wishes he would have been named after his hero SpongeBob SquarePants. He’s not a big baseball fan, although does have his name immortalized on a brick at Wrigley Field with his father and I – “Three Generations.” (See Post #511.)

I have to admit that I really enjoyed the SpongeBob SquarePants show, despite my concerns about its juvenile content. However, it seems to have fit my level of maturity perfectly, as many of these other recent Broadway productions have gone well over my head. The music was from Aerosmith, John Legend, David Bowie, Cyndi Lauper, and Lady Antebellum, to name a few. The Lady Antebellum song added further guilt since I had recently taken the kids to the Daytona 500 and we watched the pre-race concert by the group. It was Maddux’s first concert ever, so another memorable grandfather experience. I have also earned the title of “Disney Grandpa” (See Post #385), since the Orlando Airport is the most convenient way to visit them. As a result, we typically meet at Walt Disney World, where they are all annual pass holders. I’ll be looking forward to our first trip there with Nora Grace in several years. Hopefully, she’ll be braver than Gavyn and taller than Maddux in future visits. Maddux was always too short to ride the roller-coasters, and older brother Gavyn was afraid of the dark on their very first visits to the Magic Kingdom. Walt Disney is a much better baby sitter than I am, and as the kids have gotten older they seem to have never lost their love of the park. I know I certainly haven’t!

I’m on my own tonight, as my wife enjoys the Fox television “upfront,” where they launch new shows and discuss network programming strategy for the upcoming season. There’s a party in Central Park that I’m not invited to attend. I did catch her earlier trying to sneak a man into our room. As it turned out, they had gone to lunch at The Bacon Bar and had leftovers that needed refrigeration. Since I couldn’t join them for dinner, they felt that I might enjoy a later snack, so they stopped by unexpectedly. I was supposed to be still at lunch, so it was quite a surprise to all of us when I heard the door open. I appreciated their thoughtfulness, and will remember that logical excuse the next time I invite a woman to our room. I’m of course teasing, because I know both of them. The leftovers will have to go untouched until we get another room for my stomach. The 23 year-old son of a friend’s that I took to lunch could really pack it in, and old, Grandpa J. tried to stay step-for-step with him. I just might need my old family friend Speedy Alka-Seltzer…plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh what a relief it is! (See Post #201).

Diary of an Adoptee: Mother’s Day #526

May 13, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

Today is Mother’s Day, and I bought my wife a silly “I’m a Cool Mom” t-shirt at last night’s Mean Girls performance on Broadway. With two grown daughters, she certainly deserves much more, but I’ll leave that up to them. I’m not her mom, nor the father of her children, but she is a remarkable woman, having raised her kids as a single, working mom. By the same token, I hope my son remembers to acknowledge the love for his special mom. My wife will call her 96-year old mom tonight, but we won’t see her again for a few months. We sent her flowers from Hawaii, and maybe the Cubs will win today for one of their oldest and biggest supporters.

My mom passed away a few years ago and I think of her often. She was another special woman in my life, having adopted me at birth and then raised me as her own. I Love You, Mom and Dad. All those years together I also knew that there were two unknowns who initially gave me life, and out of loyalty waited to pursue their identities. However, there were other people in my life who strongly felt that I shouldn’t wait. My adopted sister, for example, included her birth mother in her marriage, that I thought was a little awkward for our adopted parents. She saw it as her right to know and easily connected with a second family, while I was perfectly content with one. By the same token, a friend of mine became more curious about my birth mother than I was thirty years ago. Despite the fact that adoption records in Indiana were sealed, she used her media credentials to access those files and give me the name Edna Faye Bannister along with an address.

Yes, I was curious and took this friendly lead and made some inquiries, but my heart was not into it. It was still with the two people who made me who I am, rather than the two who gave me life. In retrospect, I was also looking for a Bannister with two n’s and a person who has gone by two other last names, so I never found her until just recently. There were detours along the way, including a lead from the wrong state, an address that was only the adoption agency, and other information that turned out to be inaccurate. The adoption agency gave me general data on the birth parents like ages, hair color, interests, and siblings. All this ever led to were fantasies about what life might have been like if circumstances had been different?

Ultimately, I realized that I was probably better off with the adoptive family. My birth mother was only 18 years ago and had not yet graduated from high school The father was two years older and a Marine, as was outlined on the descriptions that the adoption agency provided. Their relationship apparently didn’t last. Once both of my adopted parents had died, I was encouraged by another friend to take a DNA test. The results led to a distant relative connection, who was also a professional genealogist. He sent me some historical birth and census records that matched up exactly with the seven brothers and sisters along with their age differences, from the initial adoption agency description. Because it was such a large family and included twins, there was little doubt that I had found her, and she was still alive, with an 85th birthday about to happen. Over the past six months, as described in the other other entries in this blog (See Diary of an Adoptee entries), I was able to connect with her through her family. In the process, I probably embarrassed her by exposing this secret of my existence to others. Apparently, she is not interested in any direct communication or contact with me.

I will respect her decision, as I continue to seek photos and information on her life through other sources. In a way, I’m a bit disappointed that she wants to remain disconnected, but in another way it’s a relief to not have the responsibility of knowing her. Obviously, what is important to me is not as important for her. Granted, I do not know her state of health or the circumstances of her relationship with the Marine. It could have been rape, the nature of their break-up, or it might have been a one night stand that makes her want to remain distant? Memories of me perhaps are not pleasant, yet she did name her first legitimate son Jerry Lee, the very same name she had them put on my birth certificate. Regardless of the how’s and why’s of my conception, I am just grateful that there wasn’t the decision to abort, allowing me to live a full life. As a result, I am thankful to the loving couple that raised me, as well to the mystery pair that made me.

Today I only have one living mother, despite the fact that we’ve never had a relationship. It’s also the very first Mother’s Day that I actually know where she lives, in addition to being alive and safe. I would still like to know something about the father, but only my birth mother and maybe her year-older sister are left to share that knowledge. I may be eventually able to find out through DNA comparisons, but I’ve found that not everyone who shares DNA is willing to respond to my inquiries. I would just like to say “Happy Mothers Day” to this stranger that gave me a start in life, and to let her know that she made the best possible decisions in giving me up for adoption. Fortunately, I met the nicest people who gave me everything I needed to succeed. Finally, it’s the best day to acknowledge that the two mothers in my life who have never met, gave this love story a happy ending, since any new chapters are unlikely to be written.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Aloe #522

May 8, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

Another day in retirement paradise, but is there enough aloe to soothe my burning skin? I feel like I’m picking up the Hawaiian language, as words like macadamia, mahalo, pineapple, hibiscus, luau, hula, hang loose, and aloha now roll easily off my tongue. Considering all the sunscreens and lotions I have applied, maybe aloha is actually spelled aloe-ha. Ha. When I think about it, I’m standing on a volcanic island where not far below the surface is 2,000 degree molten lava, combined with a blistering sun above. No wonder I was soaked in sweat following my 5k run this morning. It felt good to jump in the pool once I had reserved our lounge chairs that would allow us to lie in the sun like the giant sea turtles on the nearby craggy shoreline.

The heat was not as bad as yesterday. I found a path that had some shade and a refreshing breeze. I was also entertained by a herd of wild goats, “the feel good island music station,” and a row of what I believe to be sun-bleached banyan trees. The gnarled branches were reminiscent of how my muscles felt this morning, as I continued to procrastinate in taking that first step forward. My stomach was also a bit upset after a combination of beer, white wine, red wine, martinis, and rich island food. In fact, the glassware surrounding my dinner plate was lined-up like a crystal xylophone. After our dinner at Brown’s Beach House, I knew that I would pay the price on this morning’s run, but instead it was rather pleasant. I took several wrong paths yesterday, including a dead-end archaeological trail through a field of black pumice and the black asphalt hotel parking lot. I’m now in the process of cooling off with a refreshing Diet Coke as I write these words. The only draw-back of Marriott Hotels is that they only serve Pepsi products. At least the Fairmont has my brand even though it’s at twice the price.

I promised my wife a birthday gift, even though it’s more than a month away. She was probably going to buy herself some jewelry anyway, so at least my purchase will “kill two stones with one bird.” She initially wanted a chocolate pearl ring to match her earrings that we purchased on another island trip, but quickly got distracted by a glitzy band of colorful sapphire stones. It’s more than twice the budget I planned to spend, but I’ve got to distract her from dwelling on my “kept-man” status that is a key element in my current retirement plan. Plus, she deserves it for letting me tag along on her business trips. Next week we travel from the Big Pineapple to the Big Apple for more meetings.

I’m finishing up Veeck as in Wreck, my second book about the controversial baseball team owner from Chicago. There has to be a little bit of baseball in every trip I take, so it seemed like an appropriate beach book. I left the hot sun to watch the Cubs continue to score runs against the Marlins, something they failed to do against the rival Cardinals. Kerry Wood sang “take me out to the ballpark,” to commemorate his historic 20 strike-out game twenty years ago. I have a framed picture of that record-tying performance on my home office wall. Tonight is the convention luau finale before our six-hour flight home tomorrow. Before I put on the customary Hawaiian shirt and begin to shake some hands, I will be slathering my body in aloe-ha lotion to get some of the red out.

Old Sport Shorts: The Thrill is Gone #519

May 6, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

A 6-hour airplane ride to Hawaii is a great way to get some writing done. There’s only so much you can do stuck in a seat for that long. Wi-fi is weak over the ocean, so I can’t even monitor the Cubs at Cardinals series today. Last night’s opener was a disappointment, as has been the start of the season in general. Today, Kolten Wong hit a game winning homer against Brandon Morrow in the 10th, causing me to further question his ability as the Cubs new closer. Other than a four-game sweep of the Brewers, the Cubbies have essentially played .500 baseball, unworthy of a team with that much talent. Last season’s World Series hangover somehow continues to linger, as the “W” flag fails to wave over Wrigley Field.

The Cubs starting rotation has shown little promise, other than stingily allowing the then Division leading Brew Crew only one earned run and eleven hits in four games. I thought it was a renaissance, but they only managed a five-game winning streak. The Rockies took the next two games and St. Louis handed out the third straight loss last night and the fourth today. Yu Darvish has been the weakest link, showing the same vulnerability that lost the Dodgers last year’s World Series. Only Kyle Schwarber has shown improvement in an offensive lineup that hasn’t changed much from last year. Thankfully, it’s a long season.

My other Chicago baseball favorite, the White Sox, have been even worse coming out of the blocks. My man Yoan Moncada #10 has shown some promise, but the organization continues to remain a cellar-dweller. There were not heavy expectations this year, as fans like me start to already look to next year. Attendance at Guaranteed Rate continues to deteriorate along with their place in the standings.

For me, there hasn’t been much to root for in the Wide World of Sports. The Trailblazers lost in four and the Pacers found LeBron to be too much. The Timbers no longer have an Indiana University connection, and I’m afraid that despite the city’s optimism and money, Major League Baseball will probably not find its way here. For a while, it was College Baseball that struck my fancy. Oregon State continues to perform at the top of the charts, but my alma mater I.U. has fallen to the middle of the low- ranked BIG conference, after recently peaking at #10 in the nation. Tiger’s return to golf has been relatively uneventful, and the NFL draft sparked little interest. You may have also noticed that I skipped right over College Football. I honestly seem to have lost interest and enthusiasm around my favorite ball-hobbies. In the words of B.B. King, “The Thrill is Gone.”

If there was one positive this past week, it’s been coach Archie Miller and Indiana University basketball recruiting. A new potential savior, Romeo Langford has put the Hoosiers back in the spotlight, if even just for a year. My expectations may be too high for a kid to make an impact in such a short period of time, but it’s renewed my faith in the program. A 6’10” graduate-transfer big man, and perhaps the return of leading-scorer Juwan Morgan, after he finished dipping his toe in the NBA pool, could signify a resurgence. The bad news is that I may have to wallow through six more months of sports mediocrity before I catch the Fever again. By the way, how are they doing?

Retirement is not without Hassles: Venus #516

May 4, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 1 Comment

As much as I insist that every day is the same in retirement, Friday still seems to stand out as the best. It may eventually lose its special status once my wife joins me in retirement and there’s no longer a reminder that it’s a workday for everyone else. However, until then, it will continue to signify the end of weekly labor and the beginning of the weekend. Plus, everyone seems to be in a better mood on Fridays.

As the Dutch group, Shocking Blue, sang back in 1970, “She’s got it, Yeah baby, she’s got it, Well, I’m your Venus, I’m your fire, At your desire.” The name Friday means the “day of Frige,” associating the Old English goddess Frigg with the Roman goddess of love, Venus. In Latin it translates to “day of Venus.” Workers in the United Kingdom and Australia refer to it as POETS day – “Piss Off Early Tomorrow’s Saturday.” It makes me think of Detective Sergeant “Joe” Friday on Dragnet, Friday Night Lights, Friday the 13th, Good Friday, Black Friday, and Casual Friday. It’s also apparently a stoner movie starring Ice Cube and Chris Tucker.

We did recently travel to Paris, visited the Louvre Museum for a third time, and marveled at the ancient Greek statue of Venus de Milo, thought to be the work of Alexandros of Antioch created sometime between 130 and 100 BC. It was found on the Greek island of Milos that our cruise ship passed nearby, as we motored from Santorini to Athens. It still strikes me as a Greek Tragedy that many of these treasures have ended up in French and British museums. The French did return the Medici Venus to the Italians after it had been looted by Napoleon Bonaparte. We know that he had “short-man’s syndrome, but also apparently some Venus envy! In the process of giving back, the French began to selfishly promote how “their” remaining Venus de Milo was an even greater treasure, even though it was found in Greece. This was also the case with many pieces of the Parthenon’s facade that were moved to England for safe keeping and never returned. The Greeks still consider it to be theft, as is probably the same situation with Venus. After all, she was unarmed!

Friday is the day of our weekly “Leadership Meeting” or “Early Happy Hour,” so even us lazy retirees continue to celebrate its special place at the conclusion of the work week. While we could do it everyday, we chose the day of Venus to “love” cold beer, hot wings, and casual conversation. It’s still our day to “piss off” and solve the world problems. We have a lot to discuss today including the recent success of Indiana University basketball recruiting, the possibility of Major League baseball in Portland, the change in broadcasting rights for University of Oregon sports, movies & documentaries we all should watch, the Cubs/Cardinals series, the Kentucky Derby, Indianapolis 500, and any upcoming antique & collectible events. It should be just three of us for today’s luncheon, with no guest speakers expected. I’ll also make an exchange of empty wine bottles for full ones from the exclusive Walleye Winery.

My wife and I head for the Big Island of Hawaii tomorrow, hoping we won’t be greeted by a river of hot lava following yesterday’s intense eruption of Kilauea volcano. Several thousand people have been evacuated from the other side of the island from where we’ll be staying in conjunction with the Oregon Auto Dealers Association convention. While my wife attended some meetings, I had intended to rent a car and drive over to the Hilo area, but now I think I’ll stay as far away as possible. In other words, I have no “desire” to see the “fire.”

Retirement is not without Hassles: Brick #511

April 29, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

The other night when I was walking the dogs, I picked up a brick cast aside in a nearby woods. I needed it for the recipe that I’m preparing next week called Chicken Under A Brick so I brought it home with me. Apparently, the Italians have figured out magical way to grill chicken that uses the weight of an aluminum foil covered brick to press the bird forcefully against the the grill. After my success with Beer Can Chicken, I’m hoping for another “winner-winner-chicken-dinner.” It also got me thinking about bricks.

Eleven years ago I got a unique birthday present from my wife, when the Cubs were offering personalized commemorative bricks to be placed on the grounds of Wrigley Field. “3 Generations – Mike Adam Gavyn 9/10/2007.” My dad, Burt, should probably have been included as the Fourth Generation and his dad, Bill, the Fifth in a long line of family Cub fans. However, as my wife explains, it was the date of the first Cubs game for my grandson in the company of myself, my son, and my only nephew (three generations). In a similar manner, I bought my parents their own brick in front of Nick’s on the campus of Indiana University where they met, and I’m pretty sure they included my name on one of the pavers in the downtown plaza of our hometown of Elkhart, Indiana.

I grew up in Indiana as a fan of both basketball and auto racing. The one-class Indiana High School basketball tournament and the Indy 500 were both captivating annual Hoosier traditions. I certainly launched my fair share of “bricks” off the rim trying to perfect my round-ball shooting skills on the basketball court. A “brick” is an errant shot but not as bad as an “air ball.” I grabbed a ball at a local fitness club recently after years of not touching one, and the result was nothing but “bricks and/or air balls.”

On a couple of special occasions I’ve driven a race car, but never as part of a race. I once got to drive my personal car on the famed Indianapolis Motor Speedway known as the Brickyard. In 1909 the original surface of crushed rock and tar was replaced with 3.2 million bricks. In October 1961, it was all topped with asphalt leaving only a 36” strip at the start/finish line now known as the “yard of bricks.” It’s worth kissing! I also attended the inaugural Brickyard 400 back on 8/6/1994 won by a Hoosier high school graduate named Jeff Gordon. This year it will be known as the Big Machine Vodka 400 at the Brickyard Powered by Florida Georgia Line. The naming rights must have cost a pile of gold bricks! .

When I think of brickyards, for some reason I recall a former neighborhood in East Chicago, Indiana primarily inhabited by African Americans, many of which were employed by a nearby brickyard. When I was in high school, the East Chicago Roosevelt Roughriders were the top basketball team in the state, including the championship in 1970. The East Chicago Washington Senators won it the following year. The area was a basketball hotbed, with great shooters who rarely laid a brick. Speaking of Chicago, I also recall WGN TV and Radio play-by-play sportscaster Jack Brickhouse on Cubs and White Sox games growing up. He was the predecessor of Harry Carey, who are both enshrined as Hall of Fame broadcasting legends.

The long lasting endurance of brick construction dates as far back as 7500 BC, while the tallest brick structure in the world is the 1,046 foot high Chrysler Building in New York City, also home of a gastropub named The Brickyard. Nearby Newark, New Jersey is nicknamed “Brick City.” Plus, everyone knows the story of The Three Little Pigs and how the Big Bad Wolf huffed and puffed but couldn’t blow down the brick house, after destroying the others made out of straw and sticks. You’ve also heard the phrase, “Built like a brick sh**house,” and sang along with the The Commodores 1977 dance hit, Brick House. On a similar note, Jethro Tull’s album Thick as a Brick was released in 1972, and Pink Floyd’s rock opera Another Brick in the Wall came out in 1979. Finally, there is an Atlanta-based band named Brick that coined the word “dazz” after their unique disco-jazz style of music.

You don’t have to go far to find a restaurant, bar, or pizza joint named “Brick House” – just “follow the yellow brick road.” It not only leads to Oz, but also takes you to the slot machines at the Las Vegas MGM Hotel. All the big stars are promoted on the giant marques that you find only in Vegas, and engraved on what could be considered to be “star-shaped bricks” on the sidewalks of Hollywood. Does a brick have to be square or rectangular? No matter what shape, it’s a form of immortality that you can buy. The bottom line is if you can’t have your name in lights, at least put it on a brick.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Adventure #509

April 27, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

Five straight days of being a homebody. There was no evening dining out, with the only outside events of my choosing. A college baseball game, a dental appointment, a leadership meeting, and some errands were the only things that interrupted my lazy, binge-watching this week. I sat through a couple of Lost in Space episodes with my wife in the evenings and several seasons of Justified during the daytime hours. From “Danger Will Robinson” to the “Dixie Mafia” of the Kentucky backwoods, there couldn’t be much more range in this week’s viewing habits. Even though the weather was perfect, I ventured outdoors only to run, walk the dogs, get the mail, read on the back deck, and ride around in the convertible. I’m glad I don’t have to deal with the hassles of outer space aliens and poison moonshine.

We did venture out for carry-out burgers & onion rings from Skyline last night. I made chicken with barbecue sauce for dinner one night, had hot dogs and the nachos at the ballpark, and enjoyed lunch at Buffalo Wild Wings today with some friends. The Cubs beat the Brewers while we were eating, and preparations were being made for Round 2 of the NFL draft, while we sipped on cold beers and solved most of the world problems. This is what leadership is all about! On the more constructive side, I did do some laundry, vacuuming, dusting, weeding, dish-washing, picked up the dry cleaning, and fixed the water heater, so don’t even begin to think that retirement is spent strictly on the couch. I also was able to wrangle a $150 in Amazon Gift Cards from Delta Airlines customer service after repeated efforts to resolve our travel complaints from a month ago. I was not as successful as I hoped to be, and I hope there will be additional compensation as they continue to review our case. This is something that I would not have time or motivation to do if I was still working. I’ve yet to get into coupon-clipping and contesting, but I suppose those will be the next steps in retirement.

I will be able to enjoy one more week of relaxation before we head to Hawaii, and deal once again with airline schedules, rental cars, and hotel accommodations. Sometimes these arrangements suck the energy out of me, so couch potato time can be a welcome relief. I’m kidding, of course! I still ADORE (See Post #396) travel and the sense of adventure associated with it. Just as the dogs like to GO – so do I. (See Post #506). Good things do not necessary come to those who wait! You have to GO out and search for them. I wish we had the resources to do more travel, and fortunately we’re restricted by my working wife’s vacation schedule, otherwise I probably would have already spent our nest egg. Being at home gives me time to reflect on where we’ve been and where we’re going next. Days on the road go by so fast that life becomes a bigger blur than it already is, while staying at home slows down that hectic pace. Also, the dogs miss us when we’re gone, as they are currently waiting by the garage door for the sound of my wife’s car. We don’t get that kind of a greeting in hotel rooms or on cruise ships. There’s no place like home, at least until the next retirement adventure!

Old Sport Shorts: Gold Glove #505

April 23, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

In 1957, sporting goods manufacturer Rawlings worked with Major League Baseball to create an annual Gold Glove Award. Last year was the 50th anniversary of the prestigious defensive award, issued each year by position. The very first award for an catcher was won by Sherman Lollar of the Chicago White Sox. It was the only year where there were not individual position awards in both the National and American Leagues, so Sherm was the sole catcher recipient that year. Other notable 1957 winners included Gil Hodges, Nellie Fox, Willie Mays, Al Kaline, Minnie Minoso, and Bobby Shantz. There were three White Sox players (in bold) out of the nine positions awarded. Historically, the player to earn the most of these awards in a career is Chicago Cubs Hall of Fame pitcher Greg Maddux with eighteen.

Sherm Lollar went on to win the award two more times as a catcher, but would have won many more if the honor would have been established earlier in his career. Recent Hall of Fame inductee Ivan Rodriguez won 13 Gold Gloves to lead all catchers. Other backstop greats recognized by Rawlings include Johnny Bench with 10 awards, Yadier Molina 8, and Jim Sundberg 6. The catcher position has always fascinated me, even though it was a position that I never played. Sherm Lollar was my favorite player growing up, starting with his World Series appearance in 1959. Over the past couple of years, I’ve been collecting some of his memorabilia that I proudly display in my office. I also wrote several letters to the Golden Era Hall of Fame Committee suggesting that he be considered a Hall of Fame candidate. (See Post #5), especially in light of the fact that that he is one of the top defensive players in the history of the game.

For Christmas this year, my wife bought me a game-worn Sherm Lollar #10 Sox jersey from 1955. (See Post #494). I also have autographs, photos, cards, pins, and a drink cup in honor of his 18-year career as a catcher plus several more years as a baseball coach and manager. I don’t really understand this fascination with a man I never met, but I now joke about having one of the world’s largest collections of his merchandise. It’s really not much of a museum, but you’re certainly welcome to visit it. Today, I just received a 1950’s era Rawlings leather catcher’s glove endorsed by Sherman Lollar that I purchased on e-Bay. I just couldn’t resist displaying it next to the pin-striped, #10 wool jersey and a Hillerich & Bradsby Louisville Slugger bat autographed by Hall of Fame shortstop Luis Aparicio, another of my White Sox idols from the 1959 World Series. They may have lost to the Dodgers, but they won my heart!