Thunderbolt

When your child has a certain disease, your eyes become trained to see it in print and immediately read the newspaper or magazine article. Out here in Los Angeles, Bill Plaschke is on of the great sports columnists for the L.A. Times. I have read his columns periodically and always enjoyed his opinions. I did not know that his brother has cystic fibrosis, so it surprised me when I read it in the wonderful article he wrote for Sunday's edition of the Times. Cf does not factor into the point of the article, but the fact that Plaschke's brother is 34 and "winning the battle" is wonderful to hear. The article is about Tony Gwynn, the great San Diego Padre ballplayer who was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame this past Sunday. I wish there were more players like Gwynn in every sports league. Enjoy: A Hall of Famer as sweet as his swing Bill Plaschke July 29, 2007 (LA TIMES) This is a Tony Gwynn story. But, as with every Tony Gwynn story, it is about somebody el...

While searching for a Jonathan Franzen short story sent to me a couple years ago, I came across a folder of old journal entries that date back to my senior year of high school. Included amongst this drivel is a letter to an ex-girlfriend and a lot of bad poetry. So, I thought I would share with you all, my ode to Roy Orbison. But first, a bit of history. When Roy Orbison died in December of 1988, I was a freshman at Bowling Green State University. I had become attached to his music ever since hearing "In Dreams" featured in "Blue Velvet" and seeing the great Orbison perform on Saturday Night Live soon thereafter (I believe that Dennis Hopper was the host). Orbison had just been involved with the Traveling Wilburys and performed his final concert in Cleveland when he died. I can't explain why I became so moved by his death. Looking back, my reaction made no sense to me. The night of his death, I called the BG radio station to get some Orbison played... and they d...

The day was spent preparing for the birthday party of my father. He turns 70 on August 1 and since mom and dad are in town, it was a perfect (and rare) opportunity to celebrate with him. The disappointment he felt last week when I told him we wouldn’t be able to drive to Tucson next weekend wasn’t visible tonight when he entered the house to banners Sophie hung, two huge mylar balloons, handmade cards and a crown Soph constructed out of printer paper. Buying any gift for him has become more and more difficult as the years go by. The man has everything he’s ever wanted. I wound up buying him the recent autobiography of Benjamin Franklin and a collection of Artie Shaw’s best music. He seemed genuinely excited about the Shaw cd. In fact, he told me (as we were listening to the music) that he’s always preferred Shaw’s clarinet playing to Benny Goodman’s. I guess that thirty minutes I spent wandering through Barnes and Nobles scarce music department was worth it. Reading over the l...

If you should find yourself in North Olmsted, Ohio with a few extra minutes, you can drive past the North Olmsted high school. There, if you know where to look, you can see a brown brick, perfectly centered between two windows on the way to the soccer practice field at the back of the school. Because it is brown, this brick blends in nicely with the rest of the orange and tan skin of the school. That layer of burnt umber, oil based paint was applied to the wall on a humid, scorching afternoon in August 1990. At the tail end of my time working on the North Olmsted Board of Education summer maintenance crew, I decided to leave my mark on the school in which I grew up and started the path to adulthood. For three years, I worked alongside a group of college guys my age and a group of men in their 40’s and 50’s (“lifers” as we called them) who were the full time maintenance men for the school system. Each year, our summers were spent sweating our asses off in the Ohio heat, primarily ...

An exceptional effort by C.C. Sabathia was wasted last night when the Inidans once again wasted scoring opportunites with men on base. I guess you can't really complain about a 1-0 loss to the best team in baseball, but at some point, these guys are going to have to put up some runs if they hope to make it to the World Series. This isn't 1997 anymore. And man, I dread saying this, but we have to keep an eye out for those damn Yankees.

One of the visits I was looking forward to on our trip back to Ohio was with Matt's brother and his mother. As is always the case, schedules were hard to coordinate and I wasn't able to see them until late Wednesday night. 11:00 pm, to be exact. Rain came down on a surprisingly dry Northeastern Ohio, just in time to salvage dead lawns and relationships gasping for life. The time we spent at Matt's mom's house was very pleasant. The three of us just hung out, having some laughs and catching up. By about midnight, though, we decided to leave and go have some beers at a local bar. I bid Matt's mom good bye and off we went into the drizzling night. She appears to be coping as well as can be expected. I was happy to see her. It was off to Arturo's, a dark watering hole that has a kitchen and serves up half way decent food, if memory serves me well (it was actually one of three places Julie and I went to on our first date). The place was empty and the bartend...

The Indians lost last night. However, I believe they were destined to lose no matter how erratic Jake Westbrook pitched. Boston pitcher Jon Lester, who left the bigs last year to battle lymphoma, was returning to the majors for the first time since defeating the cancer. HE was the story of the night and being the optimist that I am, I wanted the guy to win the game. The entire WORLD wanted the guy win. It's just the way things should be in this messed up world. That said, I have to ask how much longer the Indians can put up with the inconsistent pitching of Cliff Lee and Westbrook. Although Lee showed some signs of his former self in the late innings on Saturday (after a 5 run 1st inning), Westbrook has been miserable. And folks, I love Jake Westbrook. Since the day we got him in the trade with the Yankees, I've thought the guy was scrappy and earned his way to that nice fat contract he received this year. I don't want the guy to fail. In fact, I would love to see...