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Category: Sherm Lollar (Page 8 of 9)

Chicago White Sox Catcher

Old Sport Shorts: The Uniform #494

April 15, 2018 / / 0 Comments

Another rainy weekend with little to do but watch movies. I did get out to a baseball card show but found little of interest at my limited budget. There are always lots of things that you’d like to have, but supply and demand dictates. I did go on E-bay and buy a Sherm Lollar signature catcher’s mitt that I saw once listed at twice the price. It will go nicely with the 63-year old jersey that I got for Christmas this past year. (See Post #257). It is one of my prized possessions. Here’s some history on it that I researched and included as part of the display in my office:

Sherm Lollar #10 Game Worn Jersey 1955

This uniform was worn in these first four home games at Comiskey Park in 1955:

4/14/1955 vs. K.C. Athletics W 7-1 1-3 with a triple, RBI and run

4/16/1955 vs. Cleveland Indians W 9-4 1-4

4/17/1955 vs. Cleveland Indians W 3-1 1-3

4/17/1955 vs. Cleveland Indians L 4-2 2-3 with an RBI

In this uniform, Sherm went 5-13 with a triple. The Sox team ended 1955 with a 91-63 record in 3rd place, 5 games behind the Yankees. 

Sherm Lollar was 30 years old in 1955 and played in 138 games, batting 426 times. In hitting only .261 he was still an All-Star and finished 11th in the AL MVP voting that was won by Yogi Berra. Teammates Nellie Fox (#7) and Billy Pierce (#18) also finished in the top MVP voting. Ted Williams finished 4th and Mickey Mantle #5.

1956 was Sherm’s best year as a hitter at .293. His 18-year career included 9 All-Star appearances, 3 Golden Gloves, and a .264 average. He also earned 2 World Series rings as a player and coach. He played 12 years with the White Sox, 3 years with the St. Louis Browns, 2 years with the Yankees, and 1 year with the Cleveland Browns.

This year’s White Sox team is off to another predictable slow start at 4-8. Since I first adopted Sherm Lollar as my favorite Sox player back in the 1959 World Series, it would be 46 years later until I finally saw them win the World Championship. I will give them another year to build a formidable team, and continue to support the Northside Cubs as a result of their success the past couple of years. Admittedly, I’m a fair weather fan, but Chicago baseball championships are a rarity, so unlike most city loyalists I support both teams to enhance my odds. I will struggle to determine a favorite when I see both teams play against each other in the Crosstown Classic later this year. I’m not sure what I’d do if they both made it to the World Series? The last time was 1906, only a hundred and twelve short years ago, so I won’t lose any sleep over that decision. 

Today is M.L.B. Jackie Robinson Day, so every player is wearing a #42 jersey, but both the White Sox and Cubs players did not take the field due to the cold, wet, wintry conditions in Chicago and Minneapolis. I wonder if they’ll wear their number 42 uniforms in the make-up games, since they are often sold to raise money for charity? The weather was definitely a strong factor in yesterday’s Cubs victory, fueled by an unbelievable 9-run 8th inning rally. I had checked the score after the 4th inning and found the Cubbies down 10-2 to the Braves, so like a true fair weather fan I gave up my intent to watch in favor of a movie. They ended up scoring 9 runs with just 3 hits and won 14-10. I had to buy the Topps Now card to document the victory, so another $9.99 invested in my sports collection. These particular high-quality, limited-edition cards are only sold during a 24-hour period and are a great way to document the season. So far, I’ve bought the Cub’s Ian Happ card showing his first pitch homer on opening day, the White Sox’s Matt Davidson’s 3-HR opening day card, and several Angel’s Shohei Ohtani highlight cards after the Babe Ruth like start by this rookie phenom from Japan. I’m sure there will be plenty of players featured on tomorrow’s Topps Now cards wearing #42 in honor of the player who broke the color barrier in baseball back on April 15, 1947 with the Dodgers, but none from the Cubs or White Sox. 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Ten Bani #413

January 28, 2018 / / 0 Comments

When I run in the darkness, I often don’t see the treasures that might be sitting at my feet.  When the sun is out, however, I often stumble across lost coins and trinkets on the streets and sidewalks along my route. I have always known the value of a penny ever since I was a young boy searching for the elusive 1909 S VDB Lincoln cent. Coin collecting was one of my first passions, and it’s impossible for me to walk (or run) around an abandoned coin. I always think of them as “Pennies from Heaven,” (See Post #183) and I collect them in a jar for good luck. I knew it was going to be a good day when I found one, and often finding pennies meant more than shiny quarters. Dimes, nickels, and quarters stand out more on the asphalt and often catch a glimmer of the sun’s rays.

This morning I found a 10 Bani coin from Romania, the equivalent of a penny. I’ve found Canadian and Mexican coins on the ground, and maybe even a French Franc, but never a Bani.  The State Mint issued Romanian Leu coins starting in 2005 in 4 different denominations, including the coin I just found. The date on mine is 2010, the year Bulgaria finished third in Eurovision with the song “Playing with Fire” by Paula Seling and Ovi, while 21 people died in floods.  As I put it in my pocket, I wondered about the message, thinking of the song “Pennies from Heaven” and good fortune from angels above. “Make sure your umbrella is upside down.” Should I be thinking about travel plans to Romania, as I recall my Romanian buddies Agata and Beata from Toastmasters?  They were using the program to improve on their second language, while I was still struggling with my first. Is Transylvania and Dracula’s Castle in my future? “I vant to suck your blood” I just gave blood to the Red Cross vampires last week, so “Count” me out for a few more months. Are there Banis from Mecca?

I’ve neglected my coin collecting in favor of sports memorabilia, and should probably fill those few remaining slots in my coin books. I also have a stamp collection, a lapel pin collection, a cuff-link collection,and a ticket collection. In fact, I have a collection of collections! I’m surprised that I don’t still have my bottle cap collection from childhood. In 1962 when I was 11 years old, there was a Coca-Cola “Tour the World” contest. If you collected 100 bottle caps from different countries and glued them the matching spot on the giant game card folder you could win cases of Coke or up to $150,000 in cash. I remember it being sticky work, removing the cork liners from the caps to reveal the destination. There was a gas station down the block from us that had a vending machine with a built-in bottle opener, and the attendant would let us go through the collection box each week. We also had a magnet on a string that we would use to fish bottle caps out of these vending machines around town. If memory serves me correctly, there was another Coca-Cola contest to collect bottle caps from all the states, as well as one for sports figures like Jim Brown. Come to think of it, I also have a collection of quarters from the 50 states, when those were made by the U.S. Mint back in 1999 and 2000. I’m still missing a few of those that I’m sure I could fill on Ebay.

Ebay has made it so easy for collectors to buy, sell, and exchange collectibles. You no longer have to fish treasures out of vending machines or visit garage sales and antique shows. I lost a bidding war yesterday for a signed letter by my White Sox catcher hero Sherm Lollar on official Chicago White Sox stationary. I was willing to go up to $25 and I think it ended up selling for $57. It’s good to know that there are other nutty people out there willing to pay big bucks for memories. I guess I’m not the only one who cares about Sherm Lollar, who’s been dead now for 40 years, so it’s difficult to get signatures from him anymore. It’s a supply and demand world, so if you’re willing to pay the price you can get just about anything. I’m just glad I got my penny’s worth this morning.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Fantasize #406

January 25, 2018 / / 0 Comments

I was soaked to the bone by a cold, wet rain this morning, despite some waterproof outerwear. It was day 3,315 of my running streak, according to www.runeveryday.com. I was relieved to get it over with and into a hot shower and warm clothes. Despite all the rain in the Northwest, in most cases I’m facing just a mist or somehow able to dodge the raindrops, but this morning there was a lot of puddling. If it were easy, anyone could do it. Instead, somehow I manage to get through another day, fortunate to avoid injury, sickness, and laziness. As they say, “one day at a time.”

The cleaners have now arrived, so I’m prepared for a day of annoying background sounds, as they distribute water and cleaning agents through hoses to their truck parked in front of our house. The dogs are cowering, and the cat is locked in the bedroom. The neighbors have to be covering their ears from the obnoxious humming noises, as well. In its wake, at least it leaves behind a pleasant clean smell.  Like a new car smell, I wonder how long it will last?

It will probably take some time for my “second family” to absorb the impact of my recent certified letter, documenting my undoubtedly secretive existence all these years. I’m sure that the son of my birth mother will need to evaluate my intentions, and discuss what to do with close friends and/or family. I can almost hear the conversations in my imagination. I will be relieved once the shock wears off and reality sets in. At that point, perhaps further communication can take place. I remain apologetic in dropping the initial bombshell, but I want to know the truth about my existence.

Yesterday’s trip to the mailbox yielded a 1957 The Saturday Evening Post magazine that I bought on EBay, with an article comparing the Yankee’s Yogi Berra with White Sox catcher Sherman Lollar, a favorite of mine. (See Post #5). It was probably more fascinating for me to look at all the ads from that era that included a lot of automobile and appliance lay-outs. It was not a Norman Rockwell illustration on the coverThe original cost was fifteen cents, originally delivered to a subscriber in nearby Cresswell, Oregon. Slightly off the subject, I happen to know a woman who was also named after John Cresswell, the 23rd United States Postmaster General. He was appointed by President Ulysses S. Grant, and mentioned in his biography that I’m currently reading by Ron Chernow. The focus of the magazine was on integration – The Deep South Says Never! I paid a little more that fifteen cents for this little piece of history; in fact shipping was $5.00 alone. I think it’s interesting that Grant fought for integration and a hundred years later the South was still fighting against it, not to mention for the next sixty years up until today. An article on baseball seemed unusual for a publication of this nature, but The Post continues to exist even today, although as a not-for-profit.

I’m not sure why I’m so fascinated with history and collecting memorabilia. At first, I thought it was a safe, round-about way of finding my roots. I still find it odd that a grown man like me has such a strong fascination with athletes, and collects pictures, autographs, articles, and clothing relating to them. It’s not as if I expect them to be worth something to anyone but me. It’s like I’ve adopted Sherm Lollar into my family, and his album of photographs and cards sit right next to the pictures of my parents. I didn’t even know him or have met him, yet I feel like he had some kind of influence on my life. His #10 became my #10, and all the result of simply watching him play in the 1959 World Series. It was only 8 years old and somehow he made an impression on me.  I guess that’s why they say that young children are extremely impressionable. It’s still not a sane justification for paying big bucks for a dirty, sweaty jersey worn by him 63 years ago. Would it make it better if he was in the  Hall of Fame, and I had paid even more? At the very least, it’s exactly my size! I must must still fantasize that my birth father was an athlete, yet I was perfectly happy with being the adopted son of an accountant. What would Freud say?

Retirement is not without Hassles: My Ten CommandMEnts #387

January 8, 2018 / / 0 Comments
As I continue to learn more about the Knights Templar quest for the Holy Grail through the History Channel’s Knightfall series, and follow the modern day hunt by brothers Rick and Marty Lagina  on The Curse of Oak Island, I find myself curious about other biblical stories. In the process, I thought I might put my own personal twist on the original Ten Commandments.  As a courtesy reminder here they are:              
  1.           You shall have no other Gods before ME.
  2.          You shall not make idols.
  3.          You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain.
  4.          Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.
  5.          Honor your father and your mother.
  6.          You shall not murder.
  7.          You shall not commit adultery.
  8.          You shall not steal.
  9.          You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.
  10.          You shall not covet.
Now, here is my silly take on the Ten Commandments. What I call the CommandMEnts – because they’re all about ME:
  1.          I shall live like GOD is looking over ME to keep ME honest.
  2.           I shall have IDOLS like my dad, catcher Sherm Lollar, and Billy.
  3.           I will not use offensive language, except with I.U. basketball
  4.           I will RUN on the Sabbath and every other day of the week.
  5.          I shall honor adopted father & mother and find my birth parents.
  6.          I shall not murder, with the exception of mosquitoes.
  7.         I shall not commit adultery – it’s childish to fool around.
  8.         I shall not steal, unless it’s second base. 
  9.         I shall not be a nosy neighbor, and to pay the HOA fees on time. 
  10.         I shall always COVET Diet Coke and an Arby’s Jamocha Shake.
I hope I’m not struck by lightening for being so sacrilegious, but I tend to make fun of things I don’t understand. I do feel somewhat safer since I did go to church and leave an offering on one occasion last year – a big improvement over the year before. Furthermore, as I’m already on very thin ice, let me continue with Ten Final Thoughts on Religion:
  1.         Never criticize another’s beliefs of any kind.
  2.         Study the Bible as an important historical document.
  3.         Never waste prayers on your team to win because one team always loses.
  4.         Keep an open mind and forgiving heart for those whose beliefs are different.
  5.         Hope there is no Hell and never wish that someone goes there.
  6.         Be thankful that you don’t work on Sundays, and for heathens that do.
  7.         Enjoy any religious holiday, especially if you get gifts. 
  8.         What would travel be without Churches and religious artifacts to see?
  9.         What would comedians joke about without religion and politics?
  10.         Religion is the greatest mystery of all. What would we do without it?

 

 

 

 

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Sanitizer #378

December 28, 2017 / / 0 Comments

I thought the rental car debacle would be our biggest hassle of the holidays, but things managed to get worse. Snow and ice made driving difficult, and below-zero temperatures blasted Indianapolis. It made me wish I was back in Portland, whose weather apparently didn’t fare much better. My wife’s daughter stayed with our dogs and experienced a lengthy ice-related power outage. She usually agrees to stay at our house for two reasons: to watch premium tv channels and to do laundry. She was not able to do either.

Christmas Day was quick to pass following a delicious turkey dinner for seventeen and six excruciating hours of gift opening. This seems to get a bit more excessive every year, as Santa’s Semi pulls up to the door, since the reindeer can’t carry everything that goes under the tree. I got a new Columbia Cubs long-sleeved running shirt that will fit in nicely with my retirement wardrobe, a wine aerator, and a stack of Fandango cards. I’d say they know me pretty well, but unwrapping my take only took about 5 minutes.

I picked up my wife’s gift to me the next day from my sports collector friend. It was the mystery gift that had mounted in anticipation over the last six months. Mostly, it was disbelief that we had spent so much on something unknown, and then waited that long to finally learn what it was. The surprise turned out to be a 1955 Chicago White Sox game-worn, wool jersey with #10 on the back. (See Post#5). I then spent the rest of the afternoon with my cousins and dinner with a good friend. This fabulous day was then rudely interrupted by a call from my wife, whose mother was unexpectedly being admitted to the hospital with what they initially thought was pneumonia. It was reminiscent of Thanksgiving many years ago when her father suddenly passed out in the kitchen and needed an ambulance.

Over the past few days, my poor wife has spent the night in a bed-side chair, after her sister also got sick. While she’s proved to be a loving daughter, I’ve been trying to finish the “jigsaw puzzle from hell” that was started over a year ago. No one seems to work on it unless I’m not in town, so the pressure was on to get it done and off the family-room table. In the meantime, the diagnosis was changed to the very contagious influenza B, and we’ve since worn surgical masks in her presence. It makes me feel like I’m living out a Stephen King novel. On the lighter side, it also reminds me of the letter I wrote to the Baseball Hall of Fame titled, “Who was that Masked Man?” and the reason for my unique Christmas gift.

I’m trying to avoid any hypochondriac tendencies, as I sit across from my masked wife, reeking of hand sanitizer. The only one not wearing a mask in the room is my mother-in-law, who has a nasty cough that neither of us wants to catch. What’s wrong with this picture? Well, it’s her room and she’s having trouble breathing, so they don’t want anything restricting that process, while I’m thinking a gag! When she coughs and wheezes, it makes us both want to hack out a response. The patient also can’t hear and with everyone in masks she can’t even read lips. We write on an erasable board for her, talk in whispers to each other, and try to pass the time in silence. We were so bored at one point that we started to clip and file our nails. Plus, the TV is stuck on one channel, and my wife is exhausted following back-to-back-sleep-deprived nights. Could it possibly be less “Merry” or “Happy” at the end of the year? At least, the masks keep us from continuing to stuff sweets in our mouths.

Our dog has diarrhea back at home (See Post #371), but my wife’s daughter has gracefully agreed to continue watching them while we’re stuck back in Indiana. We had to cancel our return flights, and extend the rental car agreement. Also, we couldn’t make the drive up to see my sister and her kids. They’re sick too! I had the flu a few months ago, so I’m hoping to avoid a repeat, although I don’t have to worry about missing work. All of us have cancelled any New Year’s Eve plans.

We’ll probably end up returning the rental car to Hertz in Indianapolis, rather than Chicago, certainly adding to our growing “Christmas Vacation” expenses, but there’s little chance we’ll encounter “Counter Lady” and her fondness of Cadillacs (See Post #376). I can’t help but think of another holiday movie favorite “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles” and comedian Steve Martin’s f***ed interaction with the “Gobble, Gobble, Gobble” rental car counter lady, a comparable experience to ours, come to think of it.

The puzzle was finally finished last night, so it can be put back in the box, and I’ll have little to do but blog and patiently sit in the hospital room wearing a surgical mask. I won’t be able to attend Friday’s leadership meeting, so I’ve set one up here in Indy. I will also miss the Les Schwab Invitational High School Basketball Tournament and left the comp tickets for my buddies locked in the car at the Portland International Airport, adding further to the holiday follies. Finally, the repair of our broken washer has been rescheduled to just after the first of the year, so I’ll try to pack clean laundry for our return home- whenever that might be? Could you please pass the hand sanitizer?

Old Sport Shorts: Rivera #338

November 15, 2017 / / 0 Comments

The baseball glove that I used in Little League was factory autographed by Jim Rivera of the Chicago White Sox. He passed away yesterday at age 96, the same age as my mother-in-law, who we just visited, and both of my deceased parents. They all lived in my home state of Indiana, within about a 50 mile triangle, so this partially explains why I was a nearby Chicago sports fan growing up. “Jungle Jim” was an outfielder on the 1959 “Go-Go Sox” team that lost in the World Series to the evil Los Angeles Dodgers. His teammates included Luis Aparicio, Nellie Fox, Early Wynn, Ted Kluszewski, Jim Landis, Gary Peters, Billy Pierce, and Sherm Lollar – the heroes of my youth. (See Posts #118 and #257)

Rivera led the AL in triples with 16 in 1953 and stolen bases in 1955 with 25, both good indications of his speed and base running skills.The nickname “Jungle Jim” was given to him by a Chicago sportswriter due to his unorthodox playing style. However, he much preferred the moniker “Big Jim,” even though his given name was Manual Joseph Rivera. He was 38 when Bill Veeck’s White Sox finally won the Pennant, and sadly went 0-for-the-World-Series on legs that allowed him to play the sport at 40 years old. He didn’t make his MLB debut with the St. Louis Browns until he was 30, due in part to World War II, a boxing career, and 5 years in the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary on an attempted rape charge.  In the off season of 1950, he played in the Puerto Rican Winter League, impressing opposing manager Rogers Hornsby who brought him to Seattle in 1951 and then to the Browns, where he started his pro career.

I saw him make several game saving plays in Right Field, a position that I often played, and enjoyed imitating his head-first slides into the bases. He finished his career with the Kansas City Athletics in 1962, but his mitt model that I used bearing his autograph stamp was a fielding essential for me for many years after.  I also had a Jim Landis mitt, as if I could put one on each hand.

Rivera was just a step behind my favorite hero, Sherm Lollar, who inspired me to wear #10. (See Post #5). I was never a Catcher because of my relatively weak arm usually relegated me to positions like Right Fielder or Second Baseman. I did some slow pitch softball hurling as I got older, as all these positions were simply a compromise for my ability to get on base. As a result, to have owned a catcher’s mitt like Sherm’s was never practical, but certainly now worth consideration in my growing museum collection.

Old Sport Shorts: Veeck #257

September 12, 2017 / / 0 Comments

One of my baseball heroes is Sherm Lollar, who played catcher for the Chicago White Sox from 1952-1963 and wore number 10. He was the second best catcher in the American League in the 1950s, behind Yogi Berra of the Yankees.  Earlier this year, I wrote a letter to the Golden Era Committee of the Baseball Hall of Fame, hoping to spur some consideration for induction.  (See Post #5).  I’m currently reading the book Bill Veeck Baseball’s Greatest Maverick by Paul Dickson, and I ran across several references to Lollar.  On August 24, 1951 (three days before my birth), Veeck organized a promotion to give fans the opportunity to manage his team, the St. Louis Browns.  He placed manager, Zack Taylor, in a rocking chair near the dugout and provided selected fans with placards marked YES and NO, which they would hold up to determine what the Browns should do next.  Sherm Lollar had come to the team after the 1948 season from the Yankees, because manager Bill Dickey determined that Berra’s left-handed swing was more compatible with Yankee Stadium.  Lollar earned a World Series ring , despite only 11 at bats and 1 home run in 1947.  Finally in 1948, the year Babe Ruth died and Sherm’s last year in New York, he only got to play in 22 games,  The Browns got him for virtually nothing, but he was still limited to only a part-time role.

Veeck was known for his promotional stunts, including the very controversial “midget” game less than a week earlier.  He used three-foot-seven-inch, sixty-five pound, Eddie Gaedel, as a pinch hitter against the Detroit Tigers.  Because of his narrow strike zone, Gaedel easily walked. and then was replaced with a pinch-runner.  The “fan vote” event was Veeck’s much tamer follow-up, but still irked the other baseball owners.  Bill Veeck had previously owned the Cleveland Indians, taking them to a World Series Championship in 1948, so Lollar would have been part of his 1946 squad, the year he bought the team.  Veeck then orchestrated one of his characteristic “bundled deals” that sent Lollar and Ray Mack to the Yankees in exchange for Hal Peck, Al Gettel, and Gene Bearden.  Veeck re-inherited Lollar when he bought the White Sox in 1959, so their baseball paths are strongly intertwined.  In fact, a cricket promotion that Bill staged in Comiskey Park between games of a double-header with Kansas City, involved both Lollar and Luis Aparicio taking at-bats, while the crowd chanted “That’s not cricket.”  At least, they were not part of the circus show he put on the week before!

The first decision of the fan jury was to determine the starting line-up for the game.  They chose to go with Sherm over Matt Batts at catcher.  After the season, the Browns traded Lollar to the White Sox where he became a regular starter, including the 1959 World Series against the Dodgers.  It just shows how perceptive the Browns fans were in promoting him to a starting role.  According to his 1951 Bowman baseball card, he played in only 126 games in 1950 and hit .280 with 13 home runs.  In 1949, he batted .269 in 109 games.  More importantly, he made only 4 errors in 322 total chances (.988).  Defense would become his trademark, and what should have gotten him into the Hall of Fame.

Veeck added Slugger Ted Kluszewski late in the season to the 1959 White Sox team that he inherited. (See Post #118)  His White Sox lost the series to the Dodgers, despite home runs from both “Big Klu” and Lollar.  After the season, he installed what I consider to be his greatest contribution to Chicago White Sox baseball, “The Monster,” an exploding scoreboard of fireworks in center field to celebrate each home run blast. (See Post #156).  Disco Demolition Night in 1979 was Bill Veeck’s other infamous promotional contribution to Comiskey Park lore, when a stoned mob wrought havoc on the field.  Sherm Lollar died in 1977 and has yet to be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame, despite a lifetime .992 fielding percentage.  Bill Veeck was inducted in 1991, five years after his death.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Birthdays #187

July 24, 2017 / / 0 Comments

Most of last week’s hassles are now behind me.  The plantation shutters are going to be replaced, the dog has stopped itching, and the air conditioning is working.  Costs were under $500, but there was a lot of dining out, and even some antique shopping to expand on that total.  It just goes to prove that when you dodge a bullet of expense, it is logical  justification to spend it on something else.   I will someone spend all this retirement money I saved – and quickly – even if it kills me!  Let’s hope it doesn’t.

I’m celebrating a birthday today – my son turned 43.  He just reminded me that I was a year off, having  turned 21 for the second time last year, so that was worth a toast.  I can’t even remember his 21st birthday, although I think we went to a baseball game.  Since he has never been a drinker, it was not a much-anticipated event.  He is probably working today at his restaurant, anxious to get home to some cake.  It’s hard to believe that half of a lifetime has passed since he was born, and that I will be very fortunate if I can live long enough to see him reach my age. We’ll celebrate his 43rd in San Francisco in two weeks, and work on spending more of my retirement nest egg.

The birthday of a son or daughter is a mortality wake-up-call, often more sentimental than our own birthday celebrations.  After all, I’ve stopped celebrating my birthday!  (See post #58)  I do remember, as if it was yesterday, the rush of excitement the day he was born.  I wasn’t quite 24 years old, working in a factory while I searched for a career in-line with my college marketing degree.  I was certainly not ready to be a father, but I was surely proud to be one, and shared my enthusiasm with my co-workers by passing out blue bubblegum cigars. He’s much bigger than I am now, but I prefer to see him as that tiny, helpless bundle of joy.   He’s given me more birthdays to celebrate with a daughter in-law and two grandchildren.

With my wife out of town on business for a couple of days, I’m being a temporary slob.  It’s four o’clock in the afternoon and I haven’t shaved or showered.  I’m not usually this lazy, but the dogs can relate to me better when I’m sweaty and stinky.  I just finished my second run of the day (see Post #186), that was hot and grueling.  I’ll relax here at the computer for a while longer before I hit the showers.  I’m trying to lose about 10 pounds by the end of August, but had a bit of a setback yesterday evening with a typical bachelor’s dinner of fried chicken, deep-fried potatoes, biscuits, and beer.  I’m staying in tonight and watching the calories.  Another training day tomorrow-maybe I can get up that hill!  I thought that at age 40, you were over the hill – I guess I’m not there yet.

The only things that I have that are older than I am are in my collections.  Some Photos, a baseball bat, jewelry, a cash register, coins, stamps, baseball cards, and some antiques have all “out-lived” my years.  When I’m gone, they will become unwanted, sold, or donated.  It doesn’t bother me what happens to my “stuff,” since they can’t be buried in some tomb along with me.  I also won’t need them to pay the tolls on my final journey to the afterlife. Besides, a Sherm Lollar baseball card isn’t going to get me far.  My only legacy will be these daily posts that will also someday disappear from the internet cloud.  Today, however, I will celebrate the birth of my son, wishing that his life turns out as good or better than mine.

 

 

 

 

Old Sport Shorts: Rolaids #184

July 22, 2017 / / 0 Comments

O.K., I was wrong, again!  The Cubs win streak did not get to 23.  It didn’t even get to 7!  The 1935 Cubs 21-game game streak didn’t happen until September, so there is still time for the 2017 squad to equal that record.  The 1935 Cubs managed to win seven straight games in the month of July, exceeding the 6-game current steak that just ended yesterday.  All was going well until the top of the 8th when the Cardinals suddenly erupted for 9 runs and an 11-4 victory.  The Cubs somehow outhit them and had two fewer errors, but “relief” pitching was hardly comforting.  It was a real momentum killer! (See Post #181)

The battle today against the arch-rival Cardinals had the right outcome, but the ending was equally disturbing.  It had a happy ending, but the Cubs pitching once again failed in the 8th, with John Lester giving up two solo home runs.  He had a one-hitter through 7, and maybe that extra inning of work was a mistake.  Who could blame Madden for sticking with him after yesterday’s relief debacle?  The Cubs rallied in the bottom of the 8th with 3 runs to take the lead, and Wade Davis finally shut down Yadier Molina, after back-to-back walks.  (See Post #174)  We were once again on the edge of our seats, getting out the Rolaids! (See Post #174).  Rolaids offered an annual “Relief Man Award” from 1976 to 2012.  Cubs winners included Bruce Sutter in 1981 & 1982 and Randy Myers in 1993.  “R-O-L-A-I-D-S spells relief.”

It was a similar scenario that we saw at the All-Star Game.  Wade Davis was on the mound with the game on the line, and Yadi was at the plate – this time with a bat.  The two things that were different : Yadi was not wearing his obnoxious, gold plated amour and Davis did not give up a game-deciding home run.  It started a streak of one for the Cubs, with the series-deciding game tomorrow night.  Jose Quintana will make his Wrigley Field debut for the Cubs after a sterling 12-strikeout performance in Baltimore.  Quintana was traded from the cross-town White Sox, so finding a new home won’t be a problem.  He may also get to face his old teammates next week.

The White Sox continue to struggle, losing their seventh straight game since the All-Star break.  The wrong kind of streak!  In the course of this disastrous run, they are beginning to build for the future.  Yoan Moncada, their brightest new star, tripled in yesterdays loss showing-off some of the power and speed he displayed in the minors. White Sox fans are excited to watch him play, with little else to look forward to this year.  Although, the team will probably quickly rebound, if only for the short-term, just in time for the Cubs series next week.  It’s why they play the game!

I always struggle with these Sox-Cubs games every year.  It’s like my conscience splits in half, with the 10-year old me rooting for the Sox, and the retired me pulling for the Cubs.  Normally, I would be content if they split the series, but the Cubs need to sweep to maintain any chance to win the Central Division.  Given the talent they have, the White Sox will have their chance in two more years.  I will say that if I had become the Cubs fan that my dad wanted me to be, I would have had to wait an additional 11 years for a World Series victory.  As luck would have it, I was running an NBC affiliate in Illinois during the 2005 World Championship season, and was able to attend both games in Chicago, featuring home runs by Jermaine Dye, Joe Crede, Paul Konerko, and Scott Podsednik.   Two great victories set the stage for the sweep in Houston.  I made the decision to become a White Sox fan in 1959, despite their World Series loss to the Dodgers.  I was able to tell my dad that I made the right choice 46 years later.  Unfortunately, he wouldn’t live long enough to see the Cubs win in 2016. (See Post #25).

I can’t imagine the mind-struggles I would have and the Rolaids I would need if the Sox and the Cubs played in the World Series.  It hasn’t happened since 1906, so don’t buy me a case yet!  I had the same problem when the Bears and the Colts met in Superbowl XLI.  I grew up a Baltimore Colts fan, following the aging Johnny Unitus.  It was his replacement, Earl Morrall, that eventually pulled out the victory in Superbowl V, following a rib injury to Unitus in the second quarter.  I was much more a baseball than football fan, with White Sox catcher Sherm Lollar a much bigger sports hero to me than Unitus,  (See Post #5).   Maybe my dad had the same influence when he convinced me to move my allegiance from the New York Yankees to a team closer to home?  For some unknown reason, I began to follow another Chicago team, the Bears, and temporarily abandoned the Colts.    When I moved my family to Indianapolis in the mid-80’s, the Colts moved there as well.  My job involved selling for the Colts radio network, and began to get to know the coaches and players quite well.

The teams you associate with in childhood always seem to win the battle of allegiance.  Even though I watched the Bears win the 1985 Superbowl, and was a huge fan of Dick Butkus, Walter Peyton, and Jim McMahon, I drifted back to the home-team Colts and Peyton Manning.  I was living in Decatur, Illinois, the original home of the Chicago Bears, when Superbowl XLI in February of 2007 happened.  I was miserable trying to decide who to support, electing not to attend in person.  The people in Illinois were for the Bears, and my friends back in Indiana were for the Colts.  I was like a ping-pong ball – talk about the need for Rolaids!

I’ll write more after tomorrow nights Cubs vs. Cardinals game.  In the meantime, hopefully the White Sox will get it together against the Kansas City Royals and stop the bleeding.  As you can see, there are a lot of emotions that come into play for me in the world of sports fan-hood.  It’s Young Me vs. Old Me, Cubs vs. White Sox, and Bears vs. Colts.  You need a program to follow-along, while I just need a couple of Rolaids!  “R-O-L-A-I-D-S spells relief.”

Retirement is not without Hassles: Another Day in a Routine Life #179

July 19, 2017 / / 0 Comments

I’ve settled back into my routine the last couple of days, as have the dogs.  Tinker was napping on the rug in the warm sunlight off the back deck, while Tally was asleep on the couch, content in the cool shade.  They are resting up from a busy day at the dog spa, sporting their stylish haircuts.  Tally played hard with the other dogs, while Tinker showed little interest in interaction.  Two very different dogs that are now my 8 to 5 co-workers, along with Frankie the cat that prefers the darkness of the bedroom.   I wonder if they know that it’s “Date Night” day.

While the dogs were getting groomed, my wife had some serious dental work yesterday, so we will dine-in tonight.  It will make the pups happy to have our company on a night that we’re typically out on the town.  I prepared a corn and tomato salsa to be served over a grilled flank steak.  I also joined my wife for a light lunch today at the Cornell Cafe Oaks located near her office.  I broke the news to her that we would be baby-sitting my grand kids our first night in San Francisco in a couple of weeks.  She was expecting something more romantic, but we settled on a Mary Poppins sing-along to keep her and them entertained.  I’m just glad to have some one-on-one time with them next month.  My son tends to be a bit possessive of his kids, but he’s also a good father.

I’ve been slowly increasing my mileage and speed in anticipation of the Hood to Coast relay.  I’m a potential last minute substitute on a team of 12 that will race 199 miles from Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood to the Seaside, Oregon beach.  Each team member will run about 17 miles over the course of two days.  Since it ends the day before my 66th birthday, I will most likely get to run a portion of the relay, as several of the regulars are nursing injuries.  It will be something to cross off my bucket list. Today was my 3,125th consecutive day (8.556 years) of running at least one mile a day.  I’ve easily averaged 2.5 miles a day over this time frame, with my current daily mileage exceeding 3.25.  In total, I’ve “easily” run over 7,800 miles since I started my present streak, more than enough to get to New York City and back.  As part of preparation for this relay, I’ve concentrated on steeper inclines the past few weeks, as the Hood to Coast route will be extremely hilly.

There was an abundance of good sports on TV this morning.  The Cubs won their 6th straight, a first for this season, and the first time since 1935 that the team has won six consecutive games following the All Star break.  The 1935 team fell short, losing to the Detroit Tigers in the World Series, but managed to win a hundred games, a Cubs feat that wasn’t accomplished again until last year – 81 years later.  They also achieved a 21-game winning streak late in the 1935 season to clinch the pennant, tying the franchise record set in 1880 when they were the Chicago White Stockings.  This year’s team will need a similar run to return to the World Series.   Later in the day, I also watched the debut of Chicago White Sox prospect, Yoan Moncada.  (Post #157).  I participated in a charity drawing in a recent visit to Guaranteed Rate Stadium in Chicago, formerly Comiskey Park, and received an autographed baseball from this Cuban phenom.  I’ve been following his progress in the Minor Leagues, anxious for him to get the promotion that happened yesterday.   He wears #10 – the same number as my White Sox childhood hero, Sherm Lollar.  It seemed almost prophetic that I randomly selected his baseball from a “mystery” stack of current and prospective players.

I also watched the Tour de France this morning, reminding me of my high school and college days on a bicycle.  My friends and I would do 50 and 100 mile rides on our non-geared bicycles, navigating a very flat Indiana terrain.  It was Stage 17 of the Tour today, and the route was through the scenic Alps.  It was mesmerizing to watch them cruise at 60 miles an hour along narrow, winding mountain roads.  I held my breath in anticipation of a life-threatening accident over the steep drop.  We didn’t have those bicycling concerns back in Indiana.  The truly painful part was watching them ascend to the peak, knowing the muscle strain and conditioning necessary to get there.

After these summer bike marathons, thee next stage of my bicycling career came entirely by accident.    Before the movie Breaking Away, the Little 500 at Indiana University got limited attention.  I had never heard of the event when I transferred to Indiana in 1971.  It was my only connection with the fraternity, since I had pledged at another college, and saw this as an opportunity to make some new friendships.  A two-week trip to Florida to train sealed the deal, but I had no idea what I was getting into.  It’s now the largest collegiate intramural sporting event, and part of the “World’s Greatest College Weekend.”  It’s been going on for 66 years, with the women’s race celebrating 29 years.  The event started the year I was born, and was founded by the son of an Indianapolis 500 winner, hence many of the similarities, including 33 four-person teams and 500 laps.  The race was originally run on a cinder track, and I have the scars to prove it.  The fact that there were no gears to shift made it a grueling experience that led to embarrassing hemorrhoids instead of the winner’s circle.

I’m no longer an athlete and don’t even own a bicycle.  I’m just a retired guy who has faint aspirations of running another marathon, contributing to the Hood to Coast relay team, hitting a home run, and maybe even winning a bicycle race.  I now live vicariously through the accomplishments of others in the sporting world, imagining that I was better at sports than I actually was.  As they say, “the older you get – the better you were.”   Sherm Lollar #10 will forever be my baseball hero and Lance Armstrong once dominated my cycling dreams, but turned out to be a grave disappointment.   I was reminded of this poem, although it’s a repeat from Post #120.   Even though tomorrow’s another day of my routine life, I don’t want to relive any portion of it.  I’m truly satisfied with what I’ve accomplished and content in simply watching the Super Hero of tomorrow take shape.  Right…Yoan Moncada?

Super Hero

.

The older you get,

The faster time goes.

Anyone who’s been there,

And done that…knows.

.

Many a decision,

Is made on the spot.

You just have to know,

When to take your shot.

.

Don’t hesitate,

Bask in the sun.

Take it in now,

Have some fun.

.

From the moment you’re born,

Until your last day.

Don’t let “I can’t,”

Get in your way.

.

Time will fly by,

Middle age will pass.

Make some memories,

Get off your ass.

.

Cause when you get older,

You’ll start to reminisce.

And you’ll be sorry,

For chances you miss.

.

Just go out and do it,

Grab the brass ring.

Then you’ll never regret,

Having missed a thing.

.

Sometimes success,

But often you’ll fail.

And you’ll try to recall,

Every detail.

.

But if you miss out,

It won’t really matter.

Your memory fades,

As you grow fatter.

.

The older you get,

The better you were.

Your flaws from the past,

Become a big blur.

.

You were faster,

Sexier and stronger.

So Much Braver,

And lasted longer.

.

A Bronze God

Our Super Hero.

When you really,

Were a big ZERO.

.

So you stretch the truth,

Exaggerate a bit.

When you struck out,

It’s now a hit.

.

The older you get,

The better you were.

You were the best,

You remember for sure.

.

You made more money,

Drove fancier cars.

Where there was darkness,

You now see stars.

.

You’ve seen the sights,

Even if not.

You don’t know it all,

But you know a lot.

.

The older you get,

The better you were.

Did it happen like that?

You’re really not sure.

.

And that’s the beauty,

Of growing old.

No one can counter,

White lies that you’ve told.

,

Copyright May 2015 johnstonwrites.com

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