THERE WERE PLENTY OF HEROES IN THE 50'S

But maybe none like Davey Crockett, King of the wild frontier. Nobody else could have played him like Fess Parker either. Back when Disney was Disney, and Sunday night was The Wonderful World of Disney and The Ed Sullivan Show, well that was just the best.

How could you not like someone like Davy Crockett? I mean, he killed a bear when he was only three! He would look at a guy straight in the eye, and tell him the way it was. He could use an old musket like an AK 47 machine gun. He didn't care much for women, because like a lot of us back then in my 8 year old years, he just didn't have time for them. And, no, when I was 8, it lasted longer than one year. Time didn't move so fast back then

The world was black and white back then, too. All tv shows, many cars, most suits. They were all black (and white) except the suits. White belts didn't come along until later. White bucks, too.

But Davey was in politics, too. Back in Tennessee. He always tried to do right and help people. He had to fight the bad guys who were dishonest. He always won because back in the day, that's the way it was. The bad guys might have the upper hand, but in the end, they lost because they deserved it.

At the Alamo, well, he killed about a zillion of those bad guys. But it was futile. When it came time for Davey to die, Disney didn't spill his guts all over the screen, they just went to music--Davey's theme song. Kinda like Lara's Theme in Doctor Zhivago.

Maybe that's what's missing today. Theme songs. I think I'll work on some myself.

WHAT'S THE BIG DEAL? NBC--CBS WHAT'S THE BIG DEAL?

Who cares outside of the major networks? Katie Couric goes from NBC to CBS. Wow! That's huge! Just flip the channel if you're a Katie fan.

Actually, I thought the only people who watched The Today Show anyhow were those without ESPN. I mean why would you want to watch morning news? It's so depressing and slanted that that's the last way I want to start my day.

Now if you want controversy, then turn to ESPN and find out that Pedro is a Met and not a Red Sock. That's a trade that matters. But CBS for NBC? Naugh. Where will The Rocket wind up? Houston? Boston? New York? Tune in for that one because that makes all the difference.

Flipping channels at commercials one morning, I did catch (no pun) the little SIU cheerleader who fell in the MVC title game. I don't recall if it was Katie or John(?) conducting the interview, but the little girl from Springfield was the star and so that makes good TV journalism. So maybe Katie's better than I thought.

And how could she not improve 60 Minutes? How has that show lasted all these years? Actually, I didn't realize it was still on.

I watch the news; I really do. I watch Channel 10--the doom and gloom news. If they don't have a local depressing/horrific/terrible event locally or statewide, then they are not above going to file tape from New Jersey or some other outpost that had a tragedy. I certainly don't watch for that reason. I watch for the weather. Is that the easiest job in the world? I mean, in Phoenix. Especially in the Summer. But I need to know whether to put on 10 or 15 sunscreen.

Anyway(s), I'll flip channels to avoid that terrible takeoff commercial with The Gilligan's Island theme song, and catch Katie, now a star at CBS. I hope she's happy there with all the stir she's caused. But if she's not, she can always make a fuss and I can see it on Channel 10.

VOLGERBALL RULES !

I know, this is just an old leather soccer ball, but it is the right color for a great German game invented by a fromer professor of mine: Volgerball. I don't even know if I spelled it right, or if the shape of the ball is like a soccer ball or football, but I know the rest of the rules.

I had a lot of classes in Gifted Education and Summer Institutes at SIU. In one I learned about the game.

The reason that I'm writing about it today is because of a couple of ten or eleven year olds I watched while eating at an Italian restuarant this week. We had a window seat without much of a view, but the two kids were playing baseball with a tennis ball and an orange rubber cone used by street workers to block off areas. They played for quite a while. It took me back to basement ball when we would shoot down at a clothes basket partially filled with dirty laundry. Or wastebasket ball where aluminum foil basketball, much smaller obviously, would caroom off a metal wastebasket when misfired. Or even sock ball where wadded up socks served as the ball fired into a cigar box supported by door closure. We used to play games like that all day.
I don't know how many time Sy Hugo Green made buckets in my house, certainly not as many as Cliff Hagen or Bob Pettit, but appreciably more than Bill Russell or Satch Sanders.

But I never knew that was a sign of giftedness until I took that class. Volgerball was perfect for the kid who always got picked last. If he was smart. Volgerball had basically the same rules as American football, but after, say a five yard run, the running back would have to answer a question, similar to the ones asked in Scholar Bowl (or the old G. E. Quiz Bowl) or he would have to go back to the original line of scrimmage with loss of down. The more yardage made on the play, the tougher the question. I can't recall how the linemen or others on the offensive unit not directly involved in the individual play got questionned, and it may have been after a touchdown had been scored. But with the gifted, creative play would be a sign that you were intellectually superior.

And to think, we just did it because of economics, weather, or to combat boredom.

SPRING BREAK

It seems a little odd that I would be spending Spring Break in Mt. Vernon. To think of all the years I couldn't wait for Spring Break when I could leave the hometown for fun in the sun.

But I couldn't resist the call of my son, who's moving into his new law office, the grandkids who are on Spring Break (well, two of the three anyway), and the opening of the New Busch Stadium.
Family-wise Spring Break was the best. What better way than to spend one week 24/7 in Florida, Arizona, or the Bahamas? Sometimes a Spring Training game, sometimes sandcastles (although that was not my forte), sometimes beach volleyball, sometimes a boat ride (once sailing), but always fun in the sun. Watching sunsets always called for me to recite Frost's poem "Nothing Gold Can Stay," which Scott changed one break to "Nothing green is gold/nothing new is old," at least something like that.

There were sacrifices, of course. No trips were ever perfect. The long drives in early trips thankfully giving way to flights. Some arrived quite late after delays, but hey, like I said.
Spring Break caused Courtney to have to give up two years of varsity softball when a new coach wouldn't allow it. It cost Scott even more when the coach wouldn't hear of him missing practice and maybe one game. Courtney got over it; I'm not sure Scott ever did. Sidebar: after his almost-coach resigned his baseball job, he set the record for the shortest time from MTV to Atlanta on his way to Spring Break. He broke the previous record held by Sam by 45 minutes.

But Spring Break was about anticipation and return as well. It always got me through freezing Winters and got my wife through brutal tax time. Although we never talked much about it around others not going, we knew we were and that was all that mattered. And when we got back (Courtney sporting a tan that earned her the nickname Burnt Cookie as a freshman), there were stories to share with other Spring Breakers and tans to show off. Okay, maybe a little hedonistic, but if things were never perfect, neither were we.

So instead of having the car packed and being picked up from the school as soon as the last bell rang, I'll be up at my normal time and head to Sky Harbor on Saturday. No rush. Until I see my family and that place the St. Louis Cardinals call home.

1-2-3-4-5-6 OR WHEN COMES SUCH ANOTHER

S.E. Hinton wrote two great adolescent novels. One was The Outsiders. The other That was Then, This is Now. Not as good as the first by the 17 year old girl, yup, S. E. stands for Susan Elizabeth. Shocking to me that any young lady would understand the workings of a teenage boy's mind, but she did in her two novels.

Well, so what does that have to do with anything? I wanted to give my faithful readers a head's up for tomorrow. Just to keep you on the cutting edge. Twice tomorrow, at least once for the rest of the world, the time and date will be 1:23/4/5/6. How cool is that? So for the purists to witness, set your alarms for 1:23 am to live part of numerical history. If you don't care that 1:23 pm is really 13:23, then don't set your alarm. But don't miss it either.

So why is it important? I don't know. I'm always sharing with my wife when I notice the time is 12:34 on a digital clock and tell her it's the coolest time of the day. She used to give me that "Big Deal" look, then it morphed into "What's up with him?" to now "It's just a phase." This, from the same woman who reminds me that "Today isCharles Spencer Sulser's birthday," an obscure person from her high school days when some desperate teacher had them memorize classmates' birthdays.

But I think even C.S.Sulser would appreciate 1-2-3-4-5-6. Enjoy the day. It's special.

PLAY BALL !! OPENING DAY!!! GO CARDINALS!!!!

If you can't get pumped up for Opening Day, then your heart must not bleed Cardinal red. And this year, for the opening of a new stadium! The only way it gets any better is to have Opening Day tickets. Thanks to my daughter, I have them!
So Scott and I will be there, probably several hours early to take it all in. I can't imagine being there for the opening of a brand new stadium, that by all indications is one of the very best in major league baseball. Courtney was there for the opening of Petco Park last season and said it was awesome. She'll be attending the Padres opener today, but she knows it can't match last season's inaugural event.
Go back to a time when you attended your very first major league game. Remember how huge the stadium looked, how beautiful the green grass, how bright the lights? It looked just like daylight. The food, the souvenirs, (gotta have a scorecard), the sounds, the smells. Magnify it by ten and that's what those of us fortunate enough to be at the opening of The New Busch Stadium are expecting. And that's good, too. When I went to one game, maybe two a season, I marked it on the calendar, even though I didn't have to. I knew when we were going. And I've known about April 10 for a long time, too.
Two years ago I attended the Diamondbacks' home opener. Yesterday at our ticket draft for shared season tickets, the home opener date went first. But it's not the same. Arizona tries, but they don't get it when it comes to baseball. There just wasn't anything special about Opening Day. Maybe we haven't suffered through a too long winter to enjoy Opening Day which can be played indoors anyway. Maybe because we know, like several franchises, that we have little opportunity for playoff baseball. Maybe because we have ten teams here for Spring Training, plus a great college baseball team-- Arizona State. Maybe because we have the Arizona Fall League. We even hosted the World Baseball Classic this spring.
For whatever reason, baseball in St. Louis is and will likely always be the best. I cried at Old Busch Stadium once in a tribute to Jack Buck. I hope I can stop with the lump in my throat when I set my sights on the new one.

MAN, I MISS WEARING TIES

To church that is. But this morning I'll be headed to Scottsdale Baptist Church wearing an open collared shirt. No socks, of course. Well, who said I was a clothes horse?
I used to wear ties every Sunday. I even bought one of those little neck extenders to make it more comfortable breathing when the numbers on my age and necksize both increased. But a former Youth Minister that I played golf with told me that his friends wouldn't even come to our church if they saw a bunch of (old)--he spared me--guys wearing ties. I haven't worn one since.
I used to wear ties when I taught school. Often in my early years when I was five years older than some of my students. But even in my later years. Once I decided to wear a tie everyday for the month of February. Why? Why not? It was cold; I was waiting for Spring. Some of them would be like Speed Racer's. I know I wore a Tazmanian Devil one once.

I never could tie a great tie. Some guys could do that double Winsor knot. But knot me. I loved the big old fat ones that anyone could tie. I could never get the length just right either. Six inches above my waist or ten inches below would be how it came out. Or my favorite ties were the ones that hit you just perfectly. Until about an hour later and they shrunk up. Or the ones you tied so tight around your neck that you could barely swallow, and an hour later it looked as if you'd loosened it for a tax audit. Or the ones you thought were clean until someone pointed out a tomato stain on them.
Hey what was I thinking. I hated ties. I'm so glad I don't wear them to church anymore. Now if I could only wear shorts...