Grumpy Old Men and Baseball

Ever since I could read a baseball box score I have been a baseball fan. I played the game until the competition exceeded my abilities.  Originally, I was a Brooklyn Dodger fan, then a Houston Colt .45s/Astro fan and eventually college baseball fan. After moving back to Beaumont in 1980 I started following the Lamar University Cardinal Team.  Being a LU graduate it was only natural that I throw my support to the locals. It didn't hurt that LU had a successful program and had made recent appearances in the NCAA tournament.

In 1982 I was coaching my sons in Little League.  As a fund raiser the coaches were asked to sell 15 tickets to a Lamar double header.  Rather than spend time hustling ticket sales, I bought all of them.  My wife was a teacher and I told her I would take the boys in her class to the game.  We crowded the eight year olds into our van and took them to the park.  I barely had time to watch the game. One of the kids slipped in with a can of skoal and got sick.  I knew Lamar was winning, but that was all.  When the game ended, the announcer said that Tony Mack had pitched a "No-Hitter".  I never realized it was happening.

As time passed I became more involved in following the Cards and in the early 90's became a season ticket holder.  A few years later I reconnected with my childhood friend, George Fortune.  His son-in-law to be was playing for Lamar.  Eventually, George bought season tickets and we made a few road trips.  We went to conference tournaments in Lafayette, LA, camped out to see one in Mobile, AL and made NCAA tournaments in Oklahoma City and Wichita, KS.  In a few years Billy Waugh and Richard Placette joined our group and we attended more road games, including NCAA tournaments in Austin and Houston.  Our little group started adding other road trips for some of the regular season games. 

Gilbert, Jay, Billy George and Abdul

Around 2000 we moved our seats to Section BB in Vincent-Beck Stadium.  Our little group grew and others started to make the road trips.  As you would expect when a bunch of guys get together,  a little smack talk, joking and practical jokes took place.  Anyone making a mistake could expect to be the subject of some abuse.
                                         

Chalk outline on the spot where George fell chasing a fould ball
at the Conference Tournament at Sam Houston State U.

Since most of our group had moved their seats to the same location, we became know as the Section BB gang.  We were joined by Jay O'Neal, Gilbert Garza, Richard LeBlanc and Master Chief Ted Parsons.  Typically we will make one weekend road trip during the regular season and also to the conference tournament.  A bonus trip is always added anytime we qualify for the NCAA regional tournament.  The last few years the Grumpy Old Men of Section BB has diversified by adding the Caywood Sisters,  and Johnny Massey and his wife, Arlene.  On occasion we would be accompanied by out of town high school classmates Bobby Katz and Buster Coats, Donnie Garcia, John Stevens and Christina Yancey.  We even have shirts indicating we are Section BB fans.

The group is made up of mostly 60+ retirees.  Some are tall, some are short. Some are thick and some are thin. ( I take that back, none are thin).  Some are democrats, most are republicans.  Some drink, most don't.  No one smokes.   Time permitting, we have visited local sites of historical significance and tried local cuisine.  During tournaments we have seen as many four games per day.  We have watched future major leaguers at the college level. 


The common thread of the group is the love of baseball.   We share stories at the others expense.  We have heard the story of Massey's minor league career where he gave up a spring training home run to Hank Aaron. (Actually, we have heard this story numerous times).  

GOM of BB John Massey, Richard LeBlanc, Jay O'Neal, Gilbert Garza,
Pattie Caywood Sistrunk, Jim Wright, George Fortune, Jim Wright,
Billy Waugh

Our last road trip was to Natchitoches, LA for the weekend series with Northwestern State, which included a stop at the Columbia Shuttle Museum in Hemphill, TX.  We had a record group of 13. 
Since there was only one game per day, we had time for sight seeing.  While Jay, Gilbert and Richard went to the Bossier City Casino, the rest of the group toured the sights.  We were even entertained by one of the local cast members of "Steel Magnolias". 

The rest of the time was filled by eating.  We had meat pies, red beans and rice, burgers and a special trip to the "Trail Boss" for steaks.  During each trip we usually have at least one anecdote that is talked about.  In Huntsville it was the chalk outline, in Corpus it was the hop scotch, the ticket scalping at Austin, the snoring, Sheldon Arnaud talking in his sleep in French, the heat of Ft Worth, and so on.   This trip was no exception.   The Trail Boss Restaurant provided the venue.  All thirteen of us went to eat there right after the Saturday game.  Many were wearing their "BB" shirts.  Gilbert Garza was one of these. 

Gilbert being short of stature went to the rest room.  While he was standing in front of the urinal two small boys came up behind him and asked if he had gone to the game.  The 70+ year old Gilbert replied that he had.  One of the young boys then asked, "Were you the bat boy?" Gilbert almost wet himself.

LU won all three games.

The Cat's Out of the Bag

My cousin, Tommy Simmons, recently sent me a link to the real estate listing of his old house on Smith St.  in Grapevine, Texas.  The house is listed on the market for $375,000.  Not bad for the house his parents built in 1937.  A little remodeling and a few upgrades by the current owners didn't hurt the original value either. 

After my family moved to Beaumont around 1950, we made frequent trips back to Grapevine.  Almost every weekend to be exact.  So there was a part of my brother and me that never left. 
My brother, Bobby, was 3 1/2 years younger than me and Tommy was between us in age.  We spent a lot of time playing together.   The rural setting of Grapevine and the dairy farm Tommy's parents owned provided different playground activities than Beaumont. 

After seeing this picture I was reminded of one particular adventure.  At one time a small barn and pasture was behind the house.  tI provided a haven for some stray cats that were probably brought from the dairy.  These cats were usually wild and untouchable.  One time while exploring the barn, we came across a litter of kittens.  They weren't too friendly, but were small enough that we could catch and play with them.  In an adolescent attempt to domesticate the feline, we found a small collar and I put it on one of the kittens. 

When we returned to Grapevine a couple of weeks later, the kitten had grown.  My Aunt was rather small is stature, but when she told you to do something, you knew she meant business.  This particular day was one of those occasions.  She told me I had better catch that "cat" and take off the collar before it strangled.  Since I was the oldest, I was the one held responsible. 

The house was built on piers with a small crawl space underneath.  We chased the cat all over the yard until it ran under the house.  Knowing this was our best chance to catch the cuddly little creature, I sprung into action.  Bobby and Tommy were covering the openings and I crawled under the house to bring the little ball of fur out.  When I finally got to the corner where he was holed up, I grabbed the little fellow.  This is when I learned that the kitten had grown into a full fledged wildcat.
He clawed, scratched and bit me the entire time.  Since I was more afraid of Aunt Day than this cat, I was not about to let go. 

The cat was out, the collar off and I was bleeding like a stuck hog.  I never saw that cat again. 

I still don't like cats.

March Madness, Super Hero Style



CP 23 and betmacparks
Newly Weds.
One is a Fantasy FB loser.  One is a Winner.
CP's Dad played College Basketball.
Bet gets a pass this year
(Editors Note: This pic was supposed to be on
the bottom of the blog, but they looked so good,
I moved it to the top)

All across America millions of people are filling out NCAA Tournament brackets.  Each year The
G Man, Super Hero group features an array of diverse competitors.  I would like for everyone to meet the players.

Some of previous winners are shown below:



2012 Winner
Name: Comeback Kids
Favorite Food: Popcorn
Likes birdwatching, musuems,
mud wrestling and game shows.
Father played pro baseball

2011 Winner
Name: Bobcats
Favorite drink is tonic water.
Likes to crochet, collects ceramic pigs,
plays internet scrabble.
Father once bowled a perfect game.

Name: Evil Doc
Favorite Food: Nuts, Berries, Collard Greens
Likes the color mauve, things that are shiny, has a glass menagerie collection,
wears women's panties.
Mother hit big slot jackpot at Louisiana Casino

Other Money Winners:



 G-Man's Kryptonite, EFunkWright
Aggies
HE: Sings in the shower, Collects small horses.
Once took out three mailboxes with a Toyota
And drove over a cliff in Tennessee.
SHE: Wears earplugs when he showers.
Bartender, Often seen wearing combat boots.
Wants to run in the sausage race in Milwaukee
 



Movie Star
Always wears same underwear
when the Cards are on a streak.
Owns a tanning bed.




Johnny the Mouse
with his Caretaker
Wife picked bracket.
Favorite athlete is Greg Louganis,
Enjoys moonlight walks on Proctor St
Hank Aaron hit a HR off him

Other entries in this years tournament:


 Show Me the Money
Idolizes G Man
Rides a Scooter
He really does like girls
Single

13Dunks
Reads comic books.
Loves to watch the sunrise.
Once made a hole-in-four
Father is a Super Hero
 

 Kool Kat, HoosierDaddy, Kowpady
Sisters taught Dad how to drive cart.
HOF BB coach. This is not a cutout



 Beach Bum
Hates dogs, collects grass clippings
Has 10 tattoos



L

 Super Chick Debbie
Biker Chick, enjoys
burning things,
has button collection

Linda Fay
Likes to play on computer and cook.
Once danced on tables in NO.
Got kicked out of Shaky's for same

James C
Retired From Insurance Co
Works part time for car company
Grandson made game winning shot at the buzzer

H Mann
Wears head phones to avoid hearing fans
Favorite book: Curious George
Likes to cook gourmet food
Dies his hair gray to look smart

 



Pamela W
Likes to check the mail.
Cannot Curse in Spanish.
Long distance runner.
Knows all the words to
North Carolina Fight Song

reMarkable
Favorit Music Genre: Blue Grass
Studying to be an Undertaker
Can't stand the sight of blood
Favorite Color: Orange

 

 

Likes to dress like a man and pretend to hunt.
Sells toilets.
World class canasta player
Father-in-law sleeps in the nude

My Last Rodeo

It was in the early '80's and I was in my late 30's.   One of my co-workers, Doug, approached me during the week and asked me if I had anything planned for the upcoming Saturday.  It was early Spring and the weather was forecast to be nice.  I told him no and asked what he had in mind.   He said that his Father had a small spread in East Texas and needed some help in rounding up his cows to vaccinate.  He also said that another friend was coming and his Dad was cooking gumbo.  I said I would be there and he gave me directions.

 



Most kids that grew up in North Texas either wanted to be a cowboy or had no choice.  Since my family moved from the farming community when I was five, I had a choice.  Although I maintained my rural roots and from time to time would work on my uncle's farm and play cowboy.  Truth be known,  as I grew up, I was more of a "drug store" cowboy, than the real deal.  Nevertheless, I still knew a little and was ready to breath some fresh air.

We all arrived at the small farm outside Spurger, Texas and Doug's Father immediately put us to work.  He had a small herd of about 30 cows and we spread out "on foot" and herded them into a small pen in one corner of the pasture.  Some of the cows had calves.   We moved the herd through the "squeeze chute", which holds the cow's head while they are treated.  When each bovine has its shots, it is released into the open pasture.   A fairly easy process to get them in, give the shots, etc. and release them.

Once all of the cows were treated and released we had about seven or eight bull calves left in the pen.  Doug's Dad wanted to castrate the calves before turning them out.   They weighed about 100 pounds each.  Doug, Clyde and me took turns grabbing the calf by the leg and flanks and putting them on the ground.  Then Doug's Dad would apply a rubber band like o-ring to their private area.  This stopped the blood circulation to their private parts and they would fall off painlessly, so I'm told.

Everything had gone smoothly until we got to the last calf.  This little bull was a little bigger than 100 pounds.  Early estimates was that he probably weighed about 300-400 pounds.  Doug and Clyde both looked at me and said, "It's your turn!"  I really didn't want to try and throw that big bull calf, but was not going to admit that I was afraid.  So, I told them to put him in the squeeze chute and I would tie one end of the rope to the post at the chute and one around the bulls horns.  Yep, he had horns.  My plan was to let him out of the chute and when he hit the end of the chute, I would have followed him down the rope and using my best steer wrestling move, throw him to the ground.



After taking a deep breath, I told them to let him out.  He bolted out the chute with me running down the rope.  When he hit the end, it stopped him and I was there to grab one horn and with his nose in the crook of my arm, easily throw him to the ground.  All was well until my arm slipped off his head and I fell with my right arm wrapped around the rope.  The bull dragged me all over the pen.  He stepped on the back of my leg while Doug kept hollering, "LET GO OF THE ROPE, LET GO OF THE ROPE!!!"  Finally, I got my arm lose and came to rest in the middle of the pen with cow manure all over me.   Still on the ground, Doug asks me, "why didn't you let go?"   In a profanity laced response, I told him,  "I couldn't let go!"  

Since my plan hadn't worked we all cornered the little bull and put him on the ground.  Since he was much larger and more developed than the previous calves, Doug's Dad surgically removed his "bullness"!  This did not make the little fella happy as he chased us all up the fence.

Once we turned him out, my arm and leg both began to swell up and I knew it was not going to be pleasant.  But, he had promised us gumbo and that would help relieve a little of the pain.  After washing-up and heading to the kitchen of the little farm house, Doug's Dad brought in the gumbo.  I got a heaping bowl of rice and filled it with gumbo.  The gumbo had a great flavor, but there was some strange meat in there.  One thing was some small animal as there were little rib cages in the bowl.  There was something else in there that I did not recognize.  I took a bite but it was a little chewy and didn't taste that good.   I asked what was in the gumbo. I was told it was squirrel and guinea gizzards.

I ate around the gizzards.

The next day I could hardly walk and my forearm was twice its normal size.   I haven't done any "Steer Wrestling" since. 

 



The Heat Was On at Disch-Falk Field.

For nearly twenty years George Fortune, Billy Waugh, Richard Placette and me have been following Lamar University Baseball.  We usually would make a road trip and always attend the conference tournaments.  When Lamar would qualify for the NCAA regional tournaments, we were there. 

Billy, George, Richard, Jay O'Neal, Gilbert Garza and me
in a road trip to conference tournament



Due to geographic location, Lamar usually ended up playing at the Regional tournament in Austin.  This is not a friendly place to play as Texas usually draws the big crowd and usually got the "home cooking" from the umpires. 

George Fortune

In 2002 our foursome had made the trip to Austin where we won one game and were eliminated

10-9 by Baylor in the semifinals.  This set up the championship game between Baylor and Texas the next day.  The temperature was hovering around the 100 mark.  Since we had bought tickets to the entire tournament and had paid for the rooms for one more night, we planned to attend the championship game.   As we were hanging outside the sold out stadium prior to the game.  Billy and George informed Richard and me they had sold their tickets to the game.  Richard and I wanted to see the game and discussed what we would do.  We all drove together and we decided if we could sell our tickets for a profit, we would would leave.  Some people call this "scalping", I prefer to call it Keynesian Economics.  As I stood around the crowd holding up the tickets, people would approach and ask, "How much?"  I wasn't going to give them away and the price was too high for the the first UT fans that asked. 







After a few minutes I was approached by a guy in shorts.  Immediately I knew he wasn't interested in attending the game when he showed me his badge.  He said, that it was against the law to sell tickets on university property, and he really didn't want to take me to jail.  Since I didn't want to go to jail, I gathered up Richard and we told Billy and George we were going to watch the game.  They would have to stay outside and wait until it was over before we could head back home. 

Richard Placette



That was only part of the story.  Richard and I found our seats while our traveling buddies were left outside.  About the second inning, I look down the stands and George is walking up.  It turned out they had run into one of Lamar's coaches' family and were given one ticket to the game and one to the VIP tent which had air conditioning and closed circuit TV of the game.   A little later Billy got a ticket from someone and he came up.

Not only did they sell their tickets to the final game, but they got in the game free anyway. 

At least I didn't go to jail. 

Texas won.

Billy Waugh



SMOOOTH!!!

I moved to East Tennessee in 1966.  During the first year I was there, the local news would feature some remote moonshine still that the Revenuers had busted up in the mountains of Tennessee, North Georgia and Alabama.  I eventually got to know some locals and a couple brought me some "black pot" moonshine.  I don't know what that meant, but was assured that it was the good stuff and would not make you go blind.

I have never been much of a drinker, but I did sample some of the local products.  I can honestly say, I didn't care for it.  To me, it tasted like real strong Saki.  One of my co-workers brought me a gallon of "shine" from Alabama.  He delivered it in a plastic one gallon milk jug.  I brought it back to Texas on vacation and gave it to my Dad.  He took it to a local lab and it was analyzed to be 90 proof. 

After 14 years in Tennessee, we moved back to Texas.  I had not thought much about home grown whiskey until I got a call from an old Tennessee friend some years back.  We will call him Wes.
Wes and several of his brothers had grown up on Mowbray Mountain just North of Chattanooga. They exposed me to a culture you don't see very often in Texas.  All were hard working men, that got jobs in the city but never left their mountain roots.  Wes was driving through Texas on his way to visit his military son in California and said he would like to see me.  I was thrilled and offered to put him and his wife up for a few days. 

They spent two nights and I showed them the "Southeast Texas" Sites and culture.  Had a most enjoyable visit reliving the 60's and 70's in Tennessee.

When it came time for them to leave and say our good-byes, Wes said,  "I got something for you".  He pulled out an old Jim Beam bottle that was full of Moonshine.  To demonstrate the quality of the gift, Wes took a sip, made an awful face, stomped the floor and replied, "Smooooth!"  I never found out for sure.  I asked Wes how in the world he got that stuff since Moon shining was almost a lost art.
Wes said that it was pretty hard to find.  When he started planning his trip, he visited a couple of old mountain men.  One said that he only made it for special occasions and to come back in a month and there would be such an occasion.  The other one he approached told him, "Wes, I don't make that stuff anymore.  You know, that you can make a lot more money growing dope".
PROGRESS in the Mountains.

I kept the bottle for several years at our beach house and offered any visitor a sip.  No one ever took me up on it.  That stuff was so strong that it survived Hurricane Ike.

What We Need Is A Great Vision

I remember reading the book "Black Elk Speaks".  In the book the Great Oglala Sioux Holy Man described his vision.  I don't remember much about the vision other than it had something to do with "Blue Men" and the destruction of the earth's resources.  I also recall that the Sioux Chief, Crazy Horse had a vision about a white owl protecting him or something like that.  These visions to Native Americans were powerful motivators. 

As I was thinking about these visions, it dawned on me I could recall only two Great Visions in my lifetime.  One was J F Kennedy's goal of putting "A Man On the Moon" in ten years.  An entire nation was energized and the technological benefits from the Space Program have been immense. 

The other great vision was that of Martin Luther King.  His "I Had A Dream" speech provided REAL "Hope and Change" for the World's Greatest Nation.

Today, we have no such Vision.  All we have are personal agendas and party line voting.  The most recent Presidential election just confirmed that.

What we need is a great Vision!  Something that can energize a nation.  Something can provide long term, lasting benefits to our entire country.  Not just benefit certain demographic or political groups.

I have a proposal:

Become Energy Independent by 2022

The Mission would be to generate enough energy such that our entire country becomes an energy exporter.  The implementation strategy would include the use of all known sources of energy; green and hydrocarbon.  The primary focus would be in utilizing the abundance of natural gas and the development of the technology and infrastructure to support this and other types of energy utilization.

It is my belief that this effort would create many new jobs as new technologies were developed and implemented.  The trade deficit would be reduced by exporting products and technology.  Without any dependence on trade with  foreign countries such as Venezuela, Saudi Arabia, etc., we would be able to make better decisions without regard to impacting our economy.

I have this personal vision of being able to power my well water irrigation system with wind energy,
solar energy providing the electricity to operate my natural gas compressor in the garage while it refuels my pick up overnight.