Road Trips!

TIM’S AND ROD’S EXCELLENT SPORTS ROAD TRIP ADVENTURE!

   On the Road is a classic 1950s novel by New England writer Jack Kerouac. It’s based on the travels of Kerouac and his friends across America. Traveling the country “in search of America” is not unusual, although the search often turns out to be more about finding one’s own identity than about sight-seeing or having fun. (Recall the classic “Road Trip!” scenes from the 1978 movie Animal House.)

   So in the spirit of Jack Kerouac and the Delta Brothers of Animal House, NHTI-Concord students Tim Martin and Rod Malone recently took off and hit the road, in search not of America, but of sports action.

   “With a new baby due in September, I wanted to get in another summer baseball trip,” explained Martin. “Earlier trips took me to many Major League parks including PNC in Pittsburgh, The Great American Ballpark in Cincinnati and Camden Yards in Baltimore. This year Rod and I figured it was time to get to Chicago.”

   Chicago meant seeing the Cubs at Wrigley Field in the afternoon, and the White Sox at US Cellular Field in the evening. So Tim got up before 3 a.m. one June day and drove south from Laconia, first picking up Rod and then heading south on a near-deserted I-93 to make it to Boston Logan Airport in time to catch a 7 a.m. flight to Chicago. Once in the Windy City, the Granite Staters made their way to the Billy Goat Tavern and procured some tickets for that day’s Cubs-Reds game.

   “Being a Red Sox fan at Wrigley field was amazing,” said Tim. “I looked for Red Sox savior Theo Epstein, now the Cub General Manager, but he was nowhere to be seen. We sat on the third base line about 20 rows up. Seeing the Ivy on Wrigley’s walls for the first time was special. Wrigley took us back in time to when baseball was the only game in town and the best place to be was in the stands scoring a game. No giant electronic scoreboards at Wrigley, but they did have an old-fashioned organ.”

   The Reds’ 2-1 victory confirmed Martin’s preference for National League action.

   “NL ball is still pure,” Tim observed. “I think that a game should only take two hours and pitchers should hit. If pitchers throw at someone in the NL then also they have to face the music at the plate themselves!”

   After the White Sox game was cancelled due to weather, Tim and Rod had to go to Plan B—getting into Game One of the Stanley Cup Finals at the United Center, where the Black Hawks hosted the Boston Bruins. The NH boys had to spend some money, but they got tickets on opposite sides of the arena, and watched Chicago overcome a 3-1 Boston lead and eventually triumph in triple overtime.

   “Easily the best sporting event I’ve ever been to,” said Tim. “But the game got over so late we skipped going to a hotel and went straight to Midway Airport for a 6 a.m. flight to New York to see a Mets game.”

   Despite the weather Tim and Rod made it to the Big Apple and then to Citi Field, where the Mets hosted the St. Louis Cardinals.

   “Citi Field is great,” offered Tim. “The Mets couldn’t decide whether they wanted a throwback park or something more modern. But it was a fantastic place to watch a game. The Jackie Robinson Rotunda is a wonderful entryway. The park has interesting dimensions and fantastic  food.”

   Martin is a reliable food critic, as he works as a chef when not taking Sports Management classes at NHTI.

   After the Cardinals won the game 2-1, Rod and Tim went to Times Square and then hung out at Penn Station. Eventually, they caught a train to Boston and returned to Beantown after midnight. They drove back to the Lakes Region with their wallets a bit lighter, but with their lives enriched by a wondrous sports road trip.

   Jack Kerouac and the Delta Brothers would have been proud!

On Golf!

 Golfing ...

   The 2013 British Open will soon be upon us.  The third of golf’s four “Major” championship tournaments begins July 18 at the Muirfield Club in Gullane, Scotland.

   Professional golf tournaments, especially the Majors, are compelling to watch. Consider that it takes around eight months to crown an NBA or and NHL champion, and only four days to crown a Masters Champion. The drama at a Major really starts with the first round on Thursday, and continuously builds until the Sunday evening climax.

   Yes, golf is an individual sport, and that’s fine. It’s part of its beauty. Phil Mickelson was entirely on his own playing during the closing holes at Merion Country Club near Philadelphia earlier this month, as the 43-year-old dueled with Justin Rose for a U.S. Open title. Five times a runner-up, Mickelson desperately wanted to reward his family, friends, and fans with that elusive US Open Trophy. Sadly for Phil, he again finished second. But many fans had to relate to Phil as an individual, knowing that time is running out on his career, knowing of his personal generosity, and knowing that he took time off from the tour to support his wife and his mom when they both had breast cancer.

   Modern broadcast technology with its superb graphics, expert camera-work, and high definition television makes watching a Major on TV a delight compared to the old days when it was so hard to follow the flight of the ball on black and white television sets.

   Yes, the individuals do make the sport. Tiger Woods may be the world’s most recognizable figure. And I don’t mind the occasional TV cutaways to his new girlfriend, Lindsey Vonn. But what really makes golf fun to watch are the venues, the courses themselves. A tennis match involves two players hitting a ball back and forth, trying to keep inside the lines, which are standard everywhere. In golf, every course—every hole—is different.  There are hills and dales, water hazards and sand traps, trees, spectators and more. Tennis is one on one. Golf can feature 36 (or more) players out on the course at the same time, with a like number of balls in play.

   Full disclosure: I have been playing more golf lately, which has increased my interest and appreciation for the sport.  Loudon Country Club.  Canterbury Woods. The Owl’s Nest in Campton.  And Den Brae, that wonderfully forgiving nine-hole course in Sanbornton. I played the same ball all nine holes, which especially nice. I’d earlier lost quite a few golf balls on a different course and am still battling the poison ivy problems I contracted from searching for them. Further, after borrowing a friend’s driver and almost reaching the green on the Par 4 fifth hole, I realized I needed to get a real driver to replace the ancient one-wood in my old golf bag. The nice folks at the Den Brae Club House gave me a deal on a real driver and extended it two inches with a new grip. This new weapon in my golf arsenal positioned me for more of those exhilarating 250 yard drives.

   I just need to keep them straight and out of the poison ivy.

 

   Bring on the British Open!

 

    (Predicted winner – Rory McIlroy.)

 

DEEP IN THE HEART OF TEXAS

 

The great city of Austin, Texas, hosted the annual convention for the North American Society for Sports Management earlier this month and yours truly was among the attendees.  While it was nice to experience the many interesting seminars and network with colleagues from around the country, it was also wonderful to sample a different sports culture.

Professional development, if you will.

 

Texas is football country to be sure, and NASSM scheduled an event at Darrell Royal–Texas Memorial Stadium, which has a seating capacity of over 100,000.  Built in 1924, the stadium was dedicated to Texas’ World War I veterans, and the 5280 Texans who gave their lives in that conflict have their names permanently displayed in bronze outside the north end zone. I walked an upper level of the legendary edifice, and felt the presence of many gridiron ghosts. The Longhorns have won 32 conference titles as well as national championships in 1963, 1969, 1970, and 2005.

The Texas State Capitol Building is a short walk from the stadium, but I took the scenic campus route to see the famous Texas Tower, where Charles Whitman killed seventeen people and wounded thirty-two others in a mass shooting rampage on the afternoon of August 1, 1966.

The Capitol was fascinating to visit. I wanted to get a photo of the portrait of former Yale cheerleader George W. Bush, who’d owned the Texas Rangers baseball team before serving as Texas governor from 1994-2000. Like the New Hampshire State House, the Texas Capitol hangs paintings of all its former governors. I was surprised to see that Texas had twice elected Miriam Ferguson—a WOMAN! —as governor, in 1924 and 1932. How progressive! (It wasn’t until 1996 that N.H. elected a female chief executive.) I later learned that Miriam was the husband of former Governor James Ferguson, who was impeached and removed from office during his second term. As part of his conviction, he was not allowed to hold state office in Texas again. After her husband's conviction, Ma Ferguson ran herself for the office. She told voters that said she would follow the advice of her husband and Texas thus would get "two governors for the price of one.” A campaign slogan was "Me for Ma, and I Ain't Got a Durned Thing Against Pa."

OK. Maybe the Texans were not that progressive after all.

 

I picked up a local paper and read a sports column reminiscing about the Dallas Chaparrals ABA hoop team, which later became the San Antonio Spurs. Despite the fact that the Spurs are in the NBA Finals, some feel they are the third most popular NBA team in Texas, behind the Dallas Mavericks and the Houston Rockets. (The Spurs are easily the SECOND most popular NBA team in N.H., right behind the Celtics, due to the presence of Concord’s Matt Bonner on the roster.)

 

Beyond sports, I also sought to expand my cultural horizons by visiting a Honky-Tonk. As an erstwhile country music fan and loyal listener of Mountonborough’s WSCY—Super Country 106.9 FM—I’d heard the term before but wasn’t quite sure what a Honky-Tonk was. Turns out it’s a southern bar that plays country music. The concierge at the Hilton shared that Austin’s “Broken Spoke” had been voted “Best Honky-Tonk in Texas.” So I had to visit.   

“The Best Honky-Tonk in Texas” also had the lowest ceiling in Texas, but I ducked as necessary and was delighted to be able to buy a pitcher of Lone Star for only $6.50. And I bravely took some dance lessons from The Spoke’s own Terri White. Turns out that I dance even worse than I golf, but Terri was very patient with me and the other novices. I’ll eventually master the Texas Two-Step, just as I’ll eventually master my seven-iron.

 

One of the Texas Two-Steppers looked familiar. She looked just like Teri Hatcher, the Desperate Housewife. Turns out that she WAS Teri Hatcher, whom some readers will also remember from the TV show “Lois and Clark.” I learned that Teri had a football connection—of course, this being Texas—having once been a cheerleader for the NFL’s San Francisco 49ers.

Her two-step was much better than mine. But I’ll bet she can’t hit that seven iron!

Anyway, Austin was wonderful. Next year’s NASSM Convention will be in Pittsburgh and “I Ain't Got a Durned Thing Against Pittsburgh.”  I’ll be there.

 

Professional development, if you will!

 

 

 

 

 

Tessie and the "Royal Rooters!"

To follow up a bit on previous post ... the lyrics to "Tessie" stem from the first World Series, 1903, Boston vs. Pittsburgh ... when Boston's "Royal Rooters" got in the heads of Pittsburgh players by singing "Tessie" incessantly ... Here's a You-Tube link to a modern version of the song ... the end of the video has images of what I described at the end of my previous BLOG!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6EIN3EeE78

 

(Boston won that first World Series, BTW!)

FENWAY MANIA

Years ago I was at Fenway Park for a Red Sox game with some friends. One of them got on me late in a one-sided contest.

 

“I’ll bet you don’t dare run out on the field and slide into second base,” he said. Like the rest of us, he may have had an adult libation or two. The friend knew I had an impulsive streak and that I also didn’t mind being noticed, occasionally.

(Note: Every columnist is an attention seeker. Regardless of content, every column also says “I’m here. Notice me. I want to make a statement.”)

I pondered running onto the field and sliding into second base, but I knew I’d probably be arrested, so I demurred.

“You’re a big chicken,” said my friend. “Bawk bawk bawk. You call yourself a Marine?”

He knew what buttons to push.

“Okay,” I responded. “I’m game. I’ll go if you go.”

Now it was his turn to demur.  “I can’t slide in my shorts!” So no one ran on the field and slid into second base. Thank goodness.

Still, the seed was planted in my mind. Since then, every time I go to Fenway I stare wistfully at second base, and imagine running out and sliding into that bag during the eighth inning rendition of “Sweet Caroline.”

Most Red Sox fans have seen the movie “Fever Pitch.” Remember the Drew Barrymore character dropping from Fenway’s centerfield stands to run past Johnny Damon on her way to stop her boyfriend (the Jimmy Fallon character) from selling his season tickets late in Game #4 against the Yankees in 2004? The scene was the movie’s climax and it reminded me of my destiny to run on to the field and slide into second base during a Red Sox game.

It’s on my Bucket List. I’d jump on the field from that place down the left field line where the stands are just a few feet from the diamond. I’d run onto the field and slide into second base and then run back and jump into the stands. That would finally exorcise the sliding demon that’s been in my brain ever since my friend made that challenge, lo, those many years ago.

But I’d still probably be arrested. So if I was going to get arrested anyway, I might as well make the most of it. After sliding into second base I would jump up and head back towards the left field stands, from whence I came, facing the elderly ushers and portly cops who would be seeking to apprehend me. Then I’d do a quick turn and make a dash for the Pesky Pole area, thus drawing security personnel from THAT area.

With all eyes on me, and with would-be apprehenders converging from two directions I’d turn left and sprint toward the vast open regions of right-center field. By this time, the fans would be on their feet, cheering me on.

 

(We all know that most of us secretly root for the outnumbered outlaw to get away from the authorities, from the police … from the MAN!)

Pumped up by adrenaline, I’d use my speed to put distance between me and my pursuers as I headed towards the bullpen. I’d tear off my windbreaker and throw it in the face of the nearest chaser, thus letting all the fans see me wearing my number “8” Yastrzemski Red Sox shirt.

I’d dodge the authorities as long as I could, while the crowd went crazy, as I anticipated the inevitable You-Tube videos that would immortalize me the next day--after the security goons finally surrounded and apprehended me, near the 420 mark in center field, from whence Drew Barrymore emerged in 2004.

“I’m here. Notice me. I want to make a statement.”

Fast forward to Mothers Day, May 12, 2013. A friend and I watched the Red Sox get drilled by Toronto, 12-4. We had great seats behind home plate, so we stayed until the bitter end. Yes, I looked at second base a few times, but it was not yet the day for that Bucket List second base slide.

When the game ended, field personnel quickly set up some ropes and opened a door to the field, through which streamed little kids and their mothers. The Red Sox were letting moms and kids run the bases! We walked down to the edge of the field and I noticed a DAD (heaven forbid!) joining his daughter for a run around the bases.

“That’s it,” I said. “I’m going in!”

With alacrity and my old athletic prowess, I leapt onto the field and headed for first base and then … THERE IT WAS!  Second base!  I sped up and darted around toddling tykes and waddling moms and closed in on the bag of my dreams. I thought of sliding, but I had shorts on, and was also carrying a video cell phone, recording the historic event for You-Tube. I turned the bag and headed for third.  Then home. Then back into the stands.

No one arrested me.

Did that dash around the Fenway infield exorcise the second base demon that has been haunting me for years?

Sadly, no.  I still need to do it.  Alone.  Someday.

I just have to remember to wear my Yastrzemski shirt—and long pants!

 

 

DON’T WALK ON THE CELTS!

 

   A California  friend was visiting the east coast when the Celtics forced a playoff Game Six in Beantown against the Knicks on May 3. Could the Celtics become the first NBA team ever to overcome a 3-0 playoff series deficit? With visions of the 2004 Red Sox dancing in my head, I paid big bucks for a couple tickets to witness some possible Boston sports magic.

   It didn’t happen. Boston scored just ten points in the first quarter and trailed 45-27 at halftime. The sell-out crowd kept waiting for the Celts to DO something—anything—so they could let some noise and love flow to their heroes, but the home team wouldn’t cooperate.

 

   The lead swelled to 67-47 after three periods. There is nothing better than the sound of the TD Garden exploding with noise, but most of the noise was coming from scattered Knick partisans. I cringed as I imagined Spike Lee watching gleefully on television.

 

   “Let’s give them two more minutes, and then let’s beat the crowd out of here,” I said. “This is too painful. They’re killing me.”

 

   With 9:47 left to play, Iman Shumpert dunked for the Knicks to give the New Yorkers a 75-49 lead.

 

   “Let’s go,” I said. We followed a bunch of other dejected Celtic fans toward the exit and then to the subway station. We boarded the “T” and headed toward Sullivan Square, where my car was parked.  As the subway car slowed to a stop, a guy with an I-Phone said “They’re down by four!”

 

   I was dumbfounded and flabbergasted. Right after we left the Celtics went on a 24-2 run. The Garden surely exploded multiple times. We hustled to my car and turned on the radio. We had just walked out on what was shaping up to be the greatest come-back in NBA history.  By far.

 

   Sadly, the comeback fell short and the Knicks won 88-80. Perhaps it was just as well. While I am very much opposed to suicide, had I missed the Celtics pulling off a win on May 3, I’m pretty certain I would have hung myself and you would not be reading this column now.  Seriously …

(So when I saw the Bruins trailed Toronto 4-1 late in Game 7 at the Garden, I kept the TV on ... and watched the greatest NHL playoff comeback ever!)

for 4/18 

Sport -Thoughts    by Mike Moffett

BOOKS, WOMEN’S BASKETBALL, AND MEN COACHING GIRLS

Let’s get the shameless self-promotion out of the way first.

Did I mention I wrote a book?

Alert Weirs Times readers may recall that I recently co-authored “FAHIM  SPEAKS: A Warrior-Actor’s Odyssey from Afghanistan to Hollywood and Back.”  Brendan Smith wrote a wonderful Weirs Times story about the project last year.

(So what does that have to do with a sports column?  Please keep reading.)

A couple weeks ago I got a call from a friend in southern California, who explained that she knew a radio personality at KTLK-AM Talk Radio in Los Angeles who’d had a cancellation for her show, leaving an opening in the second hour. Was I interested in calling in to the show to talk about the book?

“Of course!”

But it meant calling L.A. at 1:30 p.m. EDT on a Wednesday, when I’m in the middle of a three hour “Sports and Society” class.  I’d have to bow out.

“My class meets at that time. Sorry. Maybe if it was about sports I could have taken a bit of class time.  Too bad.”

 

Then I was told that the host, Teal Marchande, had a daughter who played basketball for Cal-Berkeley, which was headed for the NCAA Women’s Final Four in New Orleans.

 

“OK.” I replied. “If there’s a sports component I can try to call during class, if we can make it interactive with my students.”

So I explained to my students that we were going to be on a major L.A. talk radio station, and that the scheduled quiz would be delayed a bit.  While we waited for our assigned call time, Jessica--an NHTI Lynx women’s college basketball standout--got her computer out and looked up Teal’s daughter’s information.

“Talia Caldwell is 6-foot-3,” said Jess. “She has over 1000 career rebounds and shoots 62 percent from the floor. And her father, Ravin Caldwell, was a linebacker with the NFL's Washington Redskins from 1987 to 1992, winning Super Bowl rings in 1987 and 1991.”

Sports component?  I THINK!

When we finally went live I explained I was sitting in the middle of class with my cell phone on speaker, and we first wanted to know how it felt to be the mom of a hoopster bound for the FINAL FOUR! Teal seemed delighted by the question and spoke at length of her excitement and anticipation.  As the parent of a couple of daughters who enjoyed some sports successes, I could relate. I thought of Concord’s Dave and Paula Bonnor, whose daughter Becky enjoyed some high level women’s basketball success at Stanford University (Cal’s big rival) over ten years ago. Becky’s brother Luke played big-time basketball at West Virginia and UMass. And older brother Matt is still making his parents proud, playing for the San Antonio Spurs and almost winning the NBA three-point shooting contest during All-Star weekend.

Teal and I did eventually talk about the “FAHIM SPEAKS” book and movie projects, of course, but we came back to sports.

 

“I’m in a room filled with Celtic fans who want to know what’s wrong with the Lakers,” I explained.  Teal laughed and put in a plug for the Clippers before her producer and engineer weighed in on the Lakers.

 

“Horrible coach.”

I thanked Teal for the air time, and explained that the pending quiz could be delayed, but not avoided, and our class went back to business.

 

But we now had a personal interest in the women’s Final Four. I went to ESPN the next Sunday and saw the Louisville Cardinals overcome a big Cal lead to knock off the Bears and advance to the Finals against UConn, where the Huskies easily triumphed.  I loved watching Cal coach Lindsay Gottlieb, and noted that she was once a basketball assistant at the University of New Hampshire, under Sue Johnson.  Small world!

I was disappointed that Gottlieb didn’t get a chance to face UConn and its coaching legend Luigi "Geno" Auriemma. In our “Sports and Society” class, we sometimes discuss the concerns of folks who feel that women should be coached by women, folks who especially chafe at Auriemma’s success, and who look for a great female hope to put him in his place. Maybe Lindsay will someday get the chance that she just missed out on in 2013.  But that’s a different story for another day.

Go Bears!

Bear Fact …

 

Cal-Berkeley and Stanford played one of the first-ever women's college basketball games in 1896. Stanford won, 2-1. Men were excluded, as women guarded the gymnasium windows and doors to keep out curious male students.

 

And …

Did I mention that I wrote a book?

 

Lindsay ...

Geno ...