Lafayette, we are Here!

 

Lafayette, we are Here!

By Rep. Mike Moffett

“Lafayette, we are here.”

So said American army Colonel Charles Stanton in Paris on July 4, 1917, standing at the tomb of Gilbert du Motier—better known as the Marquis de Lafayette.

The Americans were in Paris as part of an advance World War I vanguard of Yankee doughboys. Over a million U.S. soldiers and Marines would soon be in France to turn the tide and bring victory to an allied coalition that was utterly spent and exhausted.

“We’ll be over. We’re coming over. And we won’t come back ‘til it’s over, over there!”

The people of France were thrilled so see the influx of all the motivated young Americans who gave them hope and eventually victory.

Stanton and company were at Lafayette’s grave that day to acknowledge a debt to a Frenchman who conversely had given a similarly exhausted American effort hope and eventually victory during our Revolution almost 250 years ago.

A wealthy young French nobleman, Lafayette was a romantic idealist captivated by the new American nation. His father had been killed in battle against the British and Lafayette requisitioned a ship to make his way to America.

In his current best-selling Revolutionary War tome, The Fate of the Day, Rick Atkinson describes the subsequent voyage thusly:

Night fell. The darkened boat beat on. His destiny lay west, over the horizon, where eventually his name would adorn some six hundred towns, counties, schools, mountains and other American landmarks. He had chosen to risk everything—for glory, for adventure, for an idea. Why not?

Lafayette made it to America and at the age of 20 became a Major General in our Continental Army. Wounded at Brandywine he quickly recovered and remained a favorite of George Washington until the triumphant end of the war, after the epic Yorktown victory in 1781.

After returning to France, Lafayette buffeted by the horrors of the French Revolution after 1789. He was imprisoned and would have been executed, but for the intercession of his American supporters. He eventually returned to favor.

In 1824 he accepted an invitation from President James Monroe to return to America, for a triumphant tour of every state to help celebrate the coming 50^th anniversary of our Declaration of Independence. By that time, every other American Revolution flag officer was dead, the last one being New Hampshire’s John Stark, who died in 1922 at the age of 94.

In June of 1825 Lafayette’s tour brought him to Concord, N.H. Accompanied by his son, Georges Washington, he was welcomed by passionate Granite State throngs similar to those that lined roads all over the country cheering his carriage’s journey from state to state.

Lafayette gave a wondrous speech at our new Representatives Hall—the very space in which our legislature still meets today. He went on to finish his tour and return to France, where he died in 1834.

On Sunday, June 22^nd, the American Friends of Lafayette will be joined at our State House by renowned Lafayette reenactor Ben Goldman, who will arrive in a horse-drawn carriage, just as the Marquis did in two centuries ago. He’ll be welcomed by our governor and legislative leaders before giving a reprise of Lafayette’s 1825 speech at the very spot in Representatives Hall where the original remarks occurred. This time the speech will be delivered in front of a huge painting of George Washington, whom Lafayette adored.

While I was not there in 1825, I will be in my Seat #23 in Representatives Hall Section 2 on Sunday to be part of a remarkable event that will connect us to our republic’s origins in a most profound way. And I already know what I’ll be thinking, as I sit and listen.

“Lafayette, I am here.”

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State Representative Mike Moffett (R-Loudon) is a former professor and retired Marine Corps infantry officer. He chairs the House Committee on State-Federal Relations and Veterans Affairs.

 The Four-Point Shot - Granite Grok

Mike Moffett for State Representative

 

                                     Mike Moffett for State Representative

State Representative Mike Moffett (R-Loudon) represents Canterbury and Loudon (Merrimack County District 4) in the New Hampshire House of Representatives. First elected in 2016, he served several terms on the House Education Committee. During the most recent term he chaired the House Committee on State-Federal Relations and Veterans Affairs.  During his tenure in office, he has successfully prime-sponsored numerous bills, many of them bipartisan, in a variety of areas. Education-related bills include a civics education measure, a gifted student measure, and a special needs measure. Among other veteran-related bills, he recently prime-sponsored HB1589, a "Veterans Court" measure designed to allow judges more discretion to avoid incarcerating military veterans for certain offenses.

"As a former history and government teacher, I really love being in the mix at the State House," said Moffett. "I've made some wonderful friends, and I feel my work has had very positive impacts. Constituents know they can count on me to be responsive and I'm proud of my 99+% attendance record for floor votes. Experience matters, in terms of knowing the necessary people and processes to get things done. I hope the good folks from Canterbury and Loudon will keep me on the job for them in Concord."

A Granite State native, Moffett graduated from Groveton High School before attending the University of New Hampshire and Plymouth State College, where he was an all-conference basketball player who still holds the Plymouth State single season rebound mark. He went on to teach in public, parochial, and military schools as well as on the community college and university levels.

A decorated Marine Corps infantry officer, Moffett served in both the Persian Gulf and Afghanistan areas of operation.

Moffett remains active with the VFW, American Legion, Loudon Lions, Knights of Columbus, and Plymouth State and Groveton High School Alumni Associations, as well as numerous boards and commissions.

              Signing ceremony for Civics Bill -- with Mike's mom!                   Beth and Mike

“STORMING THE COURT”

 

“STORMING THE COURT / SWARMING THE FIELD”

Jim Lonborg  #16:  Oct. 1, 1967 (Fenway Park)

“Eleven conferences -- the Atlantic 10, Big East, Big South, Big Ten, Big 12, Conference USA, Mid-Eastern Athletic, Pac-12, WAC, Southeastern and West Coast -- recently told ESPN that a home school with a post-game celebratory court storm could be subject to a fine under certain circumstances. Some have precise penalties, while others have general language regarding disciplinary measures and their applicability.” – ESPN.com

I love watching fans storm a court or swarm a field after a big win. The primal, elemental, and spontaneous outpouring of joyous humanity celebrating a special sport triumph always moves me.

Watch the end of the movie hoop classic “Hoosiers” when the Hickory High fans storm the court to embrace their heroes. Or the old Boston Garden after “Havlicek stole the ball!” Or Fenway Park on that magical October 1, 1967, after Rico Petrocelli caught a popup setting up the BoSox for their first World Series in decades. Six-foot-6 pitcher Jim Lonborg was swept away to centerfield and a mad mosh-pit of delirium.

Primal. Elemental. Joyous.

There are, of course, dangers when waves of humanity are unleashed, overpowering 70-year-old ushers and the lone security cop. Mob mentalities take effect. Havlicek was battered and bruised by fans after he stole the ball. He called them “ruffians.” Lonborg’s uniform was ripped to shreds. I’m sure that today in various New England locales, grandfathers share pieces of cloth with their progeny, explaining “This is what Jim Lonborg wore when he pitched the Sox to the pennant in 1967.”

Seriously.

And when those gridiron goalposts come down, they can injure even the most hard-headed football fan.

Hence the need for court storm policies.

“This is why we can’t have nice things, people!”

These outpourings, these court storms, aren’t entirely spontaneous. When the Celtics beat the Lakers at the Garden in 1984 for the NBA title, fans surrounded the court for a while before the final buzzer, waiting to pounce.

On the college level, one can be sure that ne’er-do-wells have court storm strategies that involve not hoisting a hoopster but hugging a cheerleader. Truth.

But for the most part the joyous storms and swarms are unscripted. Who knew Havlicek was going to steal the ball?

Next month marks the 50^th anniversary of Hank Aaron breaking Babe Ruth’s career home run mark. Film/video of that milestone moment in Atlanta will be shown everywhere. And accompanying Aaron on his historic round trip you’ll see Britt Gaston and Cliff Courtenay. The two Brave fans were only 17 when they ran onto the field from the first-base stands and caught up with Aaron. Now Britt and Cliff are immortal. They even made this column five decades later.

Court storms and field swarms are de rigueur everywhere at countless high school championship events. Players, parents, and peers no doubt dream of that ultimate title moment marked by Gatorade showers and heroes hoisted in celebration.

Like so many others, I also dreamed of such a moment. But most of us never taste that sweet championship nectar.

My high school senior year saw me and my Groveton High School Purple Eagle basketball teammates in a state tournament semifinal game at Plymouth State, trying for a spot in the title tilt. Half the gym was purple, as busloads of fans came down from the North Country. Sadly, we fell way behind, 27-12.

Still, in the second half we chipped away at the lead and the purple clad folks took heart. Closer and closer we came and louder and louder were the GHS fans. I remember scoring in the last minute to cut the lead to 47-46 as the gym exploded. A dam was about to break to release a purple flood onto the floor.

But we ran out of time. The white-clad players enjoyed a court storm as the purple rain fell not.

I stood watching the other team get swarmed while a lone figure hurried to me from the purple side—tears streaming down her face. Her back to the celebration, my girlfriend offered a very public embrace. I’ll always remember that.

So, most athletes never experience a court storm. But sometimes kids offer opportunities for parents to vicariously experience “swarm joy” when offspring win titles denied to their dads and moms. When my daughter’s Concord High School softball team won a state championship, I (thankfully) did not run out and leap onto the growing pile of players celebrating a title. But that was also, in a way, my storm/swarm moment as well.

And, upon further review, perhaps the lonely gesture of a teary hug offered to a losing basketball player is perhaps of equal—if not more—value than a leap into that fleeting mosh pit of sports joy experienced by that happy few band of brothers (or sisters) fortunate enough to grab sports’ ever-so-elusive brass rings.

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                                                 John Havlicek 

                                                

                                                       Hank Aaron   

TED, TAIWAN, AND SPORTS

 

TED, TAIWAN, AND SPORTS

Remember Ted Kennedy? The Massachusetts senator was a progressive icon—a liberal lion who endured the tragic killings of his three older brothers, all in their respective primes.

Ted ran for President once, in 1980, when he challenged our sitting 39th President, Jimmy Carter, a fellow Democrat. This, of course, required him to run in the New Hampshire Primary, something expected of any prospective President—at least up until Joe Biden.

That mid-February Ted’s Granite State campaign brought him to Groveton, N.H., where he toured the paper mill and then met with a few Groveton High School folks—including me, then a GHS history teacher.

The Lake Placid Winter Olympics were ongoing, and Ted compared his campaign effort with that of the miracle U.S. ice hockey team. Then he took questions.

Always a sports guy, I immediately followed up on his Winter Olympic reference with a query about Taiwan’s exclusion from that competition.

(The International Olympic Committee wouldn’t allow the small contingent from Republic of China/Taiwan to compete unless it forsook its name and national flag, out of deference to the Communist People’s Republic of China—the PRC—which was competing in its first Winter Olympics.)

Ted glared at me.

“Well, er, ah, we perhaps should consider how both the USA and Puerto Rico have separate Olympic teams, even though we’re all Americans,” replied the Massachusetts senator.

I quickly responded.

“But Puerto Rico’s never been prevented from competing under its own flag, unlike Taiwan.”

The liberal lion further glared at me, perhaps regretting that the road to the White House required him to travel through Groveton, N.H., to be hassled by an impertinent citizen over an issue that certainly then wasn’t as important to most Americans as inflation or the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan.

Ted then came back with what I believe was a very honest reply.

“I frankly don’t care whether or not Taiwan competes in the Olympics or not,” he snapped. “Next question.”

I resurrect this old sport-thought because I was recently privileged to visit Taiwan with a New England legislative delegation as guests of the ROC’s Foreign Ministry. The trip was timely and informative, given current international geopolitics. And the Taiwanese were wonderful hosts on their island of freedom—surrounded by hostile waters dominated by a PRC committed to conquering the ROC.

For the record, the Republic of China/Taiwan did eventually return to the Olympics in 1984 as “Chinese Taipei,” a compromise the Taiwanese reluctantly agreed to so as to allow their athletes opportunities to compete.

Fast forward to 2021 and an international swimming and diving competition in Cyprus involving 40 countries. Bullied by the PRC, officials there wouldn’t allow Taiwan’s flag to be shown on displays or scoreboards. Taiwanese divers could compete under an Olympic flag or under no flag at all. The ROC athletes chose to compete under no flag.

Then came one of those inspiring “I am Spartacus” episodes where the sports world separates itself from the political realm. The Japanese athletes issued a statement of support for the Taiwanese and indicated they, too, would compete without their flag being displayed anywhere. Subsequently, divers from other countries voted likewise to similarly have their flags removed to show their solidarity with Taiwan. 

Australia, Croatia, Germany, the USA, and others followed Japan’s lead. Even the French. Even the Russians!

The shows of support were the results of impromptu athlete actions, not government policy directives. That’s what made it all so inspiring to so many—except for the elephant-bully in the room: the Communist PRC.

Carpe diem!

And I want to believe that even Ted Kennedy—from wherever he may have then been watching—was similarly inspired!

                                                                              #####

                    Ted Kennedy was a decent football player for Harvard back in the 1950s.

LEGISLATIVE GOLF, GEORGE PATTON, AND GOOD WEATHER

 

                        LEGISLATIVE GOLF, GEORGE PATTON, AND GOOD WEATHER

by Mike Moffett 

Sports can be divisive. Yankees vs. Red Sox. Michigan vs. Ohio State. El Salvador vs. Honduras.

 

What?  

 

Yup. These two countries went to war in 1969 after El Salvador beat Honduras 3-2 in a FIFA World Cup (soccer) qualifier.

 

Then there was that preseason NFL game in San Francisco. After the 49ers hosted the Oakland Raiders, football “fans” got into some parking lot fights and several people were shot.

 

But sports can also bring folks together. Like when our USA Olympic ice hockey team beat the Soviets in 1980. That “Miracle on Ice” truly united Americans—from Maine to California to maybe even Hawaii!

 

A local example of sports bringing people together occurred on June 26 when Loudon Country Club hosted the Legislative Golf Classic. This “scramble” event brought together Republicans, Democrats, libertarians, vegetarians, males, females, friends, relatives, lobbyists, good golfers, bad golfers, young golfers, and older golfers. One participant even celebrated his 90^th birthday at LCC.

 

The golf event was a charity fund-raiser for Manchester’s Liberty House, which supports homeless and transitioning military veterans. I was happy to be on the event planning team as well as on a golf team—the Legislative Beer Caucus Founders.

 

As a former sports management professor, I know there are many crucial parts to these fundraisers. Numerous people must tend to many aspects including player/sponsor solicitations, publicity, registrations, goodie bags, signage, raffles, and contest monitoring. Someone must watch the Hole-in-One competition to document any aces worth $20,000. (Before buying clubhouse drinks for all.) And someone must supervise the all-important traveling beer cart and the all-important Beer Cart Girl.

 

(One may wonder why there are never Beer Cart Guys. And one can probably figure out why.)

 

Fortunately, LCC had the extremely capable Alina in charge of the extremely important traveling beer cart.

 

But there is one variable that even the best planners in the golf world struggle with.

 

The weather.

 

Ten days out I woke up and the first thing I did was check was the 10-day forecast. There was a 90% chance of precipitation on June 26. A couple days later an 80% chance. A couple days later there was a projected 100% chance of precipitation. My heart sank. It rained on a different golf scramble at LCC on June 24. The two-day forecast called for more rain on June 26.

 

Even the best golf planners can’t control the weather. Or can they?

 

I recalled that General George Patton summoned a chaplain during the darkest days of the Battle of the Bulge in 1944 and ordered him to come up with a prayer that would bring good weather for air support. Father James O’Neill was the chaplain who answered the call, and he wrote a beautifully solemn entreaty asking the Almighty to “restrain these immoderate rains with which we have had to contend.”

 

The skies cleared and the battle was won.

 

So, a la Father O’Neill, I offered up a weather prayer. I acknowledged that there were folks facing more dire situations than our scramble golfers. Certainly, the suffering people in Ukraine rated more divine intervention than our legislative linksters. But we wanted to bring folks of different political persuasions together to raise money for the homeless! I ultimately left things in the hands of the Great Greenskeeper in the Sky.

 

I awoke early on June 26 and looked out the window. It was cloudy but dry. And it stayed dry through the morning and into the afternoon, as Republicans and Democrats laughed it up, hitting golf balls up and down the hills of Loudon Country Club.

 

My foursome encountered the extremely capable Alina and the extremely important traveling beer cart at least four times in five hours. And we all hit at least a few good shots. Such fun.

 

And it stayed dry for the post-golf social, where Democrats and Republicans literally and figuratively embraced and laughed it up. We’d raised around $20,000—along with a few libations. After the final award was given, the legislative linksters headed for their cars when suddenly the heavens burst forth with heavy rain.

 

Perfect timing.

 

Somehow, I think Father O’Neill was watching from somewhere.

 

                                 Pictured in the LCC clubhouse after the Legislative Golf Classic was a foursome     

                                 which included State Senator Tim Lang of Sanbornton, State Representative Mike Moffett 

                                 of Loudon, LCC's Alina (who piloted the "refreshments" cart), State Senator Howard Pearl 

                                 of Loudon, and former State Representative Reed Panasiti of Amherst. The event raised 

                                 $20,000 for the cause.

BALTIMORE BASEBALL, BEER, POT, AND YAZ

                        BALTIMORE BASEBALL, BEER, POT, AND YAZ

The Granite State debate on marijuana legalization continues. There are many aspects to it all which we won’t get into here, except that—as with so many issues—there is a sports component.

 

Consider the outcry a couple years ago when American sprinter Sha’Carri Richardson faced disqualification from the Tokyo Olympics after testing positive for marijuana. She supposedly smoked pot after her mother’s tragic death.

 

Drug testing has abounded for decades. Most sports folks don’t want performance enhancers providing Russians with unfair advantages. And that’s also why home run king Barry Bonds’ steroid use keeps him out of Cooperstown’s Hall of Fame.

 

But is pot really a performance enhancer? The debate will continue.

 

Full disclosure: I’m not a fan of legalizing pot. I’m sure my low-tolerance for weed stems from being drug-tested for many years as a U.S. Marine.

 

Which brings us to Saturday, June 18, 1983, when I boarded a bus in Quantico, Va., along with 50 other Marine Corps lieutenants, to ride up to Baltimore’s Memorial Stadium for an Orioles game. The O’s were hosting my Red Sox and it was Carl Yastrzemski’s 23^rd and last season. I wanted to see Yaz play one more time.

 

Yes, there was beer on the bus. Would one expect differently from 50 young Marine Corps lieutenants out on liberty?

 

One of the pro-pot arguments is “Alcohol is worse!” Prohibition failed! But there are many differences. Comparing pot to booze is like comparing apples to oranges.

 

Anyway, we fifty Marines sat as a group in Memorial Stadium’s upper deck, on the first base side—where we’d hopefully avoid trouble. But I was pleased to discover that, unlike Fenway Park, Memorial Stadium had a liberal beer policy. One could buy two 24-ouncers at the same time! The O’s treated beer drinkers as adults

 

After making an early inning head call, I walked back towards the upper deck when I saw a beer vendor strapping on a giant tray with numerous libations to sell in the stands. This inspired an idea.

 

“Yo! Beer vendor. I’ll sell those beers for you!”

 

The beer vendor laughed and explained that such action would surely be frowned upon.

 

“But I’m with those Marines up there. I’ll sell every beer in no time.”

 

The beer vendor laughed and said okay, but he’d need to follow me at a discrete distance.

 

“Excellent!”

 

I strapped on his giant tray and donned his beer vendor cap and started up the steps, hawking brewksis.

 

“Beer!” I yelled. “Get your beer here!”

 

After a couple sales I was inevitably recognized by my Marine brethren, who naturally cracked up.

 

“Moffett is selling beer!”

 

As predicted, the Marines immediately bought all I had. I returned to the tunnel and gave the delighted beer vendor a bunch of money, loaded up the tray again and went up and again sold out. The section of Marines gave me a standing ovation, which drew the attention of many of the 36,668 attendees. What was going on up there on the upper deck?

 

(The Orioles drew good crowds in 1983 and would win the World Series that year.)

 

I was fortunate that all this beer business predated social media. A viral video of me selling lots of beer in the Memorial Stadium stands may not have enhanced my military career. And my friendly beer vendor would likely have been fired.

 

Still, it was such fun. But there’s more.

 

Sitting a few rows behind us near the top of the stadium were some hippies. Midway through the game the hippies did what hippies do. They started smoking pot. This immediately got the attention of fifty regularly drug-tested, buff and burly Marine Corps officers—all quite concerned that inhaling second-hand pot smoke might end their careers.

 

Our group turned and stood as one to confront the hippies. A big Texan with a deep voice yelled “You G--- D--- hippies better stop smoking that pot or we’ll throw your asses over the top of the stadium!”

 

Peer pressure? Or beer pressure?

 

Rather than confront 50 agitated Marines who were clearly ready to rumble, the hippies decided that discretion was the better part of valor and wisely moved to another part of Memorial Stadium to get stoned. All the commotion must have drawn the attention of many of the 36,668 attendees. What was going on up there?

 

Marines on liberty. Always an adventure.

 

It was a night to remember. Jim Rice hit a homer and BoSox pitcher John Tudor went all the way to win 3-2.

 

And I got to see Carl Yaztrzemski in action one last time. The 44-year-old future Hall-of Famer walked twice. He would hit ten home runs that season to finish his career with 452 round-trippers.

 

And I’m also pretty sure that not one of Yaz’s 3419 career hits was aided by any performance enhancer, whether imbibed, injected, or inhaled!

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