We’re packing our things and getting ready for a move.
That’s all I can say for now. More in a couple days. Promise!
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The Only Constant is Change
Sunday, December 6th, 2009Michigan, As Advertised
Monday, August 3rd, 2009I have to say, those commercials featuring the voice of Tim Allen creating vivid images of an idyllic Michigan were right on the money. In our stress-filled lives a little “Pure Michigan” can be just what the doctor ordered.
When I mentioned on Facebook that my wife and I were about to leave for Michigan on vacation, two people from the Wolverine State immediately posted comments. The first said, only half-kidding, “Please bring lots of money.” The second had a similar request, “Bring along some friends and your wallets.” Indeed, Michigan is one of the states hardest hit by the economic downtown.
But you’d never know it, judging by the people we encountered in the towns we visited: Saugatuck, Holland, Grand Haven. Dropping by our favorite outlet mall in Holland, we were shocked to find nearly all the storefronts empty and deserted. Out of over a hundred stores only four or five were left, giving the place the grim look of a shopping center one step away from the wrecking ball. Yet, when we stopped in at one of the surviving stores, the Reebok outlet, the woman behind the counter was upbeat, telling us, “We’re gonna be here for as long as we possibly can.” She rang us up cheerfully, gave us a coupon to return and sent us on our way with the same positive attitude that’s been welcoming us back to Michigan each summer since 1993.
My wife and I could write our own Michigan commercials based on what we get whenever we’re there. Spectacular sunsets. Incredible blueberries and cherries. A restorative sense of quiet. And there’s a list of things we know we won’t get when we’re there. A rush hour. Long lines for anything. People in a constant hurry.
I’ve got to hand it to Michigan. Anyone can put on a happy face when things are good. This summer, in what’s been the worst of times for them, the people we met in Michigan rose to the challenge and made us feel like nothing had changed.
The State of Chicago Baseball on August 1st
Monday, August 3rd, 2009Jake Peavy can instantly bolster anyone’s rotation. But I’m not convinced the White Sox did what would improve the team the most. Their offense—not their pitching—was what needed a boost. And, even though Kenny Williams gets credit for a heck of a deal in landing Peavy, would the Sox have needed to trade for a frontline starter had they kept Javier Vasquez (3.01 ERA, 1.05 WHIP this year for Atlanta) during the offseason?
Things I can do without:
1. The Brewers’ routine of untucking their shirts the minute they win a game at home. Dumb.
2. The latest ad campaign for
G
AT
ORADE.
3. The Yankee announcer who calls home runs this way: “Seeeeeee yah!”
Things I love:
1. The MLB Network. “Quick Pitch” and the “Capital One Plays of the Day,” in particular.
2. Guest announcers Keith Moreland and Scott Sanderson. Both were surprisingly good in the broadcast booth.
I remember when Ryan Theriot saw action for the first time in spring training in 2004. No one (not even Pat Hughes) was quite sure how to pronounce his name. I heard “Tair-ee-ot”; “There-ee-out”; “ Tair-eye-ot.” In a couple years, when another LSU product, D.J. LeMahieu, makes the team (and he will—he’s that good), you’ll know how he pronounces his name. It’s “Le-MAY-hue.”
The St. Louis Cardinals have been winning since they got Matt Holliday, Julio Lugo and Mark DeRosa. But acquiring better starting pitching would have been a smarter move, I’m thinking. Also, from our standpoint, we need to realize the Cubs weren’t in position pull the trigger on any of those player (if they had wanted to) because they didn’t have the goods to offer in trade. The Cards were able to use Chris Perez and Brett Wallace, first round draftees from 2006 and 2008, respectively (as well as Chris Duncan), as trade bait, whereas the Cubs had no one as big league ready and as valuable in trade from their 2006-2008 drafts.
Shooty Babbitt. Razor Shines. Choo Choo Coleman. Mookie Wilson. Van Lingle Mungo. They’re all classic baseball names. But how ’bout these: Josh Outman, Bob Walk and Eric Plunk, who are/were all pitchers, no less.
Speaking of names, here are a few names I wouldn’t want to have: Ethan Faggett, Peter Fatse, Antonio Bastardo.
John Grabow, in the end, will probably turn out to be an average pitcher for the Cubs. But here’s where he’ll really help the team: every inning he takes away from Aaron Heilman.
Why is the word “gamer” always used to describe someone like Koyie Hill or Reed Johnson? Why isn’t it ever used to describe someone like Derrek Lee, a player who, every day, actually is the essence of the game of baseball?
The fact that Koyie Hill is still playing baseball is a medical miracle. And he’s been the iron man behind the plate during Soto’s rehab. But that’s where the discussion should end. By that I mean can we stop referring to the Cubs’ won-loss record (at one time, 43 and 23) when Koyie plays? He’s the Cubs’ equivalent to Craig Krenzel and Kyle Orton—guys with winning records who were just lucky to have a strong team around them.
Don’t look now, but the player-everybody-loves-to-hate, Aaron Miles, might be coming back up soon. He’s hitting .311 in his last ten games for Iowa, bringing his average in Triple A up to .259 for the season. It’d be nice if he’d get anywhere close to .311 for the Cubs; otherwise, he’s useless.
Does anybody read the sports section of the Sunday Chicago Tribune anymore? Is it worth the time? Back in the day, it was packed with news. In the summer, there were multiple columns on baseball, a full page of box scores, and the weekly rankings of batting averages and ERAs for players in both leagues. What used to give me almost an hour’s worth of Sunday morning pleasure is now a ten-minutes-and-into-the-recycling-bin routine.
I Think I’m Going to Start Wearing a Helmet
Monday, August 3rd, 2009
Let this be a warning to my friends: if you’re ever out walking with me, beware of dive-bombing birds.
Why? First, listen to this incredible story on NPR. Click here. Researchers at the University of Washington have discovered that crows have the ability to tell one human from another–they actually remember and recognize faces. Cause a crow some grief and, no kidding, it’s bound to remember that slight. Cross paths with that crow again (keeping in mind that it’s a lot more likely to recognize you than you it), and you risk being attacked or, at the very least, cackled at at alarmingly high volume. Yes, it’s been shown they hold grudges. And they even communicate these grudges to other birds.
Last year, I was down in St. Lucia covering their annual jazz festival for WNUA. At the hotel where we were staying I happened to be walking to the pool on a path that—unknown to me at the time—took me by a blackbird’s nest. Perhaps it was the cologne I was wearing. Or the color of my shirt. Or the black hair atop my head. All I did was walk by, but I somehow set off some kind of alarm in the nest. Before you know it, one of the parents let out a cackle and then zoomed down so close to my head that I could feel the rush of the wind near my right ear. I thought nothing of it until it happened to me again on the way back to the room: a blackbird let out a bird scream and flew right past my head.
The next morning it happened a third time. This time, the bird made slight contact with the side of my head, flying so close to me that I could actually smell that animal-like smell on the way by. By the afternoon I was becoming wary of the routine and had begun avoiding that particular route to and from the pool. I avoided that path the rest of the weekend, and there were no further dive-bombing incidents. Until this past June, that is.
On June 19 I was out at Navy Pier for the Guitars and Saxes concert. In the middle of a conversation with a group of listeners, a blackbird came out of nowhere, descending at high speed, and clipped me on the back of the head. We were all stunned. It took a moment for us to process what had just happened. It was another bird swooping down, trying to send me a message.
I wrote it off as coincidence . . . until I heard the story about the crows. I don’t know what I did to them, but I’ve somehow become persona non grata in the bird community. And, apparently, word has gotten around.
As a result, I’m taking no chances. You’ll find a pile of fresh breadcrumbs on our porch from now on. And I’m even thinking about installing one of those birdbaths that circulate a constant flow of fresh water. Hopefully, that’ll show our fine feathered friends I come in peace.
Preparing to Succeed
Wednesday, June 24th, 2009You can tell when someone’s prepared, can’t you? And can’t you just as easily draw a line separating those in your life who are always prepared from those who aren’t.
I was reminded of this as I read the various quotes about John Callaway following the news of his death this morning. Those who knew John knew how thoroughly he liked to prepare, especially when it came to what he was most famous for: the interviews he did on Channel 11. Carol Marin, in particular, spoke with great reverence about John’s willingness to go to any length to prepare for one of his interviews.
Although I met him only once, John was somebody I bet I would’ve liked. I’ve always admired people who prepare, who like to be ready for any outcome, who put in the time up front to enhance the chances of a positive outcome. My folks were the ultimate preparers, and I learned a lot from them. They were constantly thinking one or two moves ahead–preparation by anticipation, I like to call it–whether it was something as simple as a visit to the doctor (my dad always wrote down a handful of questions he wanted to ask) or as substantial as saving for their two sons’ college education (they were always doing cost estimates, right down to the penny). They lived by the rule that it was much better to be over-prepared than under-prepared. I feel the same way.
There have been lots of famous quotations featuring the word “preparation.” My favorite comes from John Wooden, who was a legendary basketball coach at UCLA: “Failing to prepare is preparing to fail. Now, in some cases, the other fellow is just better than you are, and that’s no failure.”
My Dad in One Word
Sunday, June 21st, 2009I learned a new word in the ‘70s: imperturbable. Interestingly, it came from a press kit mailed to me by WLS after I sent them a lengthy fan letter chronicling my devotion to their radio station. The page of the press kit devoted to their midday personality characterized him as “imperturbable Tommy Edwards.”
As accurate a description of Tommy Edwards as that was, Tommy’s being the smoothest, most inviting midday host I’ve heard to this day, I’ve always felt that “imperturtable” was the perfect word to describe my father. Unflappable, balanced, cool under fire, imperturbable—that was my father.
I’ve really grown to appreciate that aspect of my father as the years have passed, especially since I recall how often I put his imperturbability to a test on a regular basis. The night I tripped and split open my forehead running from him and he had to take me to the emergency room. The night I crashed his car into a guard rail on an icy street. The year my grade in Latin took a nosedive after I simply decided to stop attending class. How I tormented him from time to time! I gave him plenty of chances to lose his temper or just freak out entirely. Somehow, he never came unglued.
My father had rules that were never to be disobeyed. You knew where you stood with him, and he made it clear how he felt whenever you disappointed him. It wasn’t that he was unemotional. Not at all. But, when the chaos was at its peak and it would have been easier to raise a voice and a hand, my father was always able to rise above it all, to summon an uncommon ability to remain calm.
On this Father’s Day I’m going to spend a few minutes remembering what my dad meant to me. And, among the things he was that I wish I could be, imperturbable remains high on my list.
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