College basketball

I wish I could remember when I fell in love with college hoops.

It was well before we lived in Memphis, home of the Tigers. Before our 1994-96 time in Tulsa when Tubby Smith used to wander through the KJRH newsroom on his way to lengthy interview segments with Al Jerkins. Before we lived in Miami, home of the Miami Hurricanes (1990-94). Even before the Nevada Wolfpack, back when Sonny Allen's miraculous journey to the NCAA tournaments in 1984 and 1985.

(Round one of the '84 game was played at Washington State and I convinced my then-News Director Ed Pearce to let me take a camera on the team plane for highlights. Incredibly, for that appearance, I took Carly, then aged 2, and we stayed with my grandparents in Pullman. There's more to this story and I will collaborate with my friend Patricia Clemm-McCrae to make sure my memories are...clear. Fodder for another blog...)

Now I live in Kansas City. A basketball-crazy town. An area divided by its love for the (Missouri) Tigers, the K-State Wildcats but especially, most especially "Rock chalk... Jay-Hawk... KU!"

My loyalty to the Memphis Tigers has been strained. First by my move to Syracuse where THERE'S NOTHING ELSE BUT TONS OF SNOW AND COLLEGE BASKETBALL. John and I saw a handful of games at the Carrier Dome (which should be air conditioned, by the way, but it's not). We were in The 'Cuse when Memphis lost to Kansas in the championship game. That's still painful because Chalmers never should have been allowed to shoot that shot.

When we moved to Baltimore, we tried to become Maryland fans but it just didn't happen.

Then last spring, the debacle of Calipari, Memphis and Kentucky. It was a week of Ugly. I hated seeing my former hometown folks grovel. (shudder)

And then the allegations of who took what test and where and when and the games vacated and it all boiled down to shame. I'm far away from Memphis now and don't know who knew what and when but dammit, the city didn't need that black eye. And yes, I think RC should go. Whatever.

I now live in nirvana for a college basketball fan. Kansas City MO!

So far here in KC, I've met Frank Martin and Mike Anderson. They both came by the station, submitting to the great Jack Harry. Bill Self still eludes me but it will happen.

I love this town!

Is blogging too old school?

Funny thing about "typing right into the internet." Once you have a taste, it's a hard habit to break.

Instead of blogging, for the past three-plus years, I've kept a journal. On paper. I carry the book throughout the day and write down thoughts and events as they come to me.

But it's not the same as this.

So here I am again. Since I last signed on, we've moved from Germantown, TN to Syracuse, NY to Baltimore to Kansas City.

For a time, it seemed like we were in a financial death spiral. Charlie went off to college in the fall of 2006. We've tried really hard to pay for the kids' school with cash and that plan went out the window! We sold our house in Germantown and rented in The Cuse. Then we bought a townhome north of Baltimore with our proceeds from the Southmoore Cove house and had to sell THAT just eleven months later in a sucky real estate market. Needless to say we didn't make money on that flip!

After I got fired from WMC I took a significant pay reduction when I accepted the ND gig at WSTM in Syracuse but it was a good opportunity for me to lick my wounds and work on Peggy 2.0. And so I did.

Now that we're in KC, the cost of living is more reasonable! For the first time in three years, I'm not always worried about money.

I had put this blog on the shelf and joined Facebook and Twitter. But I've missed it and so now, I'm back. For how long?

Who knows! I think I'll just see how it goes. And if blogging feels too much like shooting 3/4-inch video tape, I'll delete this and move on.

Have I Become Chopper 5?

The first time I heard the phrase "helicopter parent" was in June at our UT "orientation."

I fit the bill. We both do. We hovered over both kids and especially Charlie.

Here's John, loading the car when we took Chaz to UT.

Good think we had a big vehicle because it was jam-packed FULL.

On the way home, I stopped crying before we got to Nashville...

I live on the wrong side of the tracks

I live in Germantown. When we moved here in 1998, the "real estate experts" shooed us away from Midtown or East Memphis.

"Shelby County Schools," they said. And because we were looking for a high school with a strong girls sports program (Carly played softball) we ended up in the shadow of G-town High. No McMansion ours. It's a modest mid-70's style ranch, built when the men in charge probably thought two bathrooms in a four bedroom house was one too many.

But I digress.

Railroad tracks divide the city and we live on the south side. But most of the closest stores are on the north side. So oftentimes we spend a little time, waiting for freight to pass by.

At around 8:20pm Tuesday, Dottie and I had to run to the drug store for a trifle and were on the north side when the crossing arms lowered.

I turned the engine off and patiently listened to the Cardinals (who were losing again) on the radio for about five minutes. As the train lumbered east, I notice in my rear view mirror, a large maroon SUV in the turning lane (on the left side) moving slowly closer to my car. I was about five vehicles back from the crossing bars when they raised up and the Incredibly Impatient Person Behind the Wheel sped up, passed me and pulled into my lane, cutting me off.

Unfortunately, I did not see his/her license plate. If I had, I would have reported him/her here.

I hate the railroad tracks but I hate rude drivers more.

Godspeed Tom

Tom Walter died today.

The CA called for a comment and yes, my quote was somewhat misconstrued. Whatever. Tom was a good guy who unfortunately never stepped a foot inside our newsroom. I think he wanted to write his columns from a pure viewer perspective but I always felt that he measured us against what he knew about newsrooms from a that of a print guy.

It's not the same.

But Tom's misunderstanding is not the issue today. He was a brilliant writer and a devoted partner to his wonderful wife, Sara. He was, surprisingly, an outdoorsman, who loved to hike and to see the outdoors. He told me wonderful tales of the trip he and Sara took to the Canadian Rockies.

Tom was a Chicagoan to the end but he embraced The South. I know he was writing a book. I hope I get to read it some day.

Listening to the Twins

When I was a kid, television was still a relatively new technology and one of my early sports memories forged a love of the baseball team from the next state over.

In the summer, my family (two parents, and eventually seven kids) gathered around the 19-inch b/w set (a blonde cabinet model) to watch the Minnesota Twins. Mostly, the Twins lost.

I am not the biggest Twins fan in my family.


That honor belongs to my mother. She listens to or watches every game she can. She can quote stats like a baseball card collector.
It's really uncanny.

I was eight when the Twins went to the World Series (1965 if you're doing the math) to face Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale. Harmon Killebrew was the Twins slugger who initially was unstoppable but was stymied by the great Dodger pitching after the Minnesota boys won the first two games.

In adulthood, I've never lived close enough to consistently get Twins games on TV but for just $14.95, I can listen to the home town broadcasts on WCCO via the internet.

The Twins had a hideous start this year but 41 years after my first remembered World Series, my Boys of Summer have pitching too!
With Liriano (currently on the DL), Santana, Radke and closer Nathan, the Twinkies just might have a chance for post-season play.

Listening to the Twins on the internet makes me feel like a kid again.

It's time

or maybe not....