THE DRAFT

Only hours away now. From our Rotisserie Baseball Draft. And I'm sweating bullets. I know I'll be exhausted by the time our first pick is made.

You see, I'm the oldest guy in a 12-team league that's been in existence since 1991. Which makes it one of the longest running leagues in the country. It's very competitive as you can imagine. In fact, for years we kicked out the team that finished in last place.

We've had various owners throughout the years, but the core has stayed the same. In fact some have been in the league every single year, including me, though I took over a team towards the end of the first year. Yet I've never won a title in baseball.

So with protected players Albert Pujols, Chris Carpenter, Carlos Zambrano, Adrian Gonzalez, and Brian McCann already in the stable of the Flying Chaucers, I have to be one of the favorites to capture this year's crown.

But I'm on edge. One bad pick and I'm doomed. I have to be on my game. No wonder they call the NFL Draft, the War Room, where multi-million dollar decisions are made.
Ours are a lesser magnitude, but nonetheless intense. And when they announce "and with the seventh pick of the 2007 baseball draft, the Flying Chaucers select..." I'll have to resort to all the research I've done and choose wisely.

CONGRATS GARCIAPARRAS

My old neighbors, Nomar and Mia, are parents of twin girls. I'm sorry they moved. Our old neighborhood could use the youth.

I only saw Nomar twice when he lived there for a few Winter months. Once at the grocery store where we traded hellos and another time while I was walking the hood. He threw up a hand then.

I saw Mia once. It was 106 degrees or so in July. Sitting at the computer, facing the street, I saw a young woman running by. At 4:00 PM. Notice I said running. Not jogging. It was Mia. And she was scooting. She was much prettier in person. And obviously in great shape.

Once our gate guard wouldn't let her in because he questionned her identity. She had three or four women friends with her and he thought they were college girls. She showed him her driver's license and he was embarrassed.

I toured their house when it was for sale. A good friend of mine was their real estate agent. I tried on a Nomar glove and swung some of his bats.

I know some of this info has been written about before, but I wanted to re-visit the Garciaparras in honor of their twins. They are a cool couple joined by another cool couple.

NOT 100, BUT CERTAINLY 50

Since I moved to AZ, I've had many people ask me why I still root for the St. Louis Cardinals, and for that matter, the St. Louis Rams. My response,"It's hard to change 50 years of cheering for one team." Or in the Rams' case 11 years.

But one friend still can't understand. And I do root for the Diamondbacks, I mean I'm a partial season ticket holder, and yes,I still root for the Arizona Cardinals and the Bidwells (Ok, don't buy into that last name). Just not when they're playing my St. Lou teams.

And I can't wait to go to Chase Field in Phoenix when the Cardinals play in September. There's a "Get your scorecard" salesman that gives fans wearing opposing team jerseys a hassle. "It's been a long time since 1988," he yells at Dodger fans, emphasizing how long it's been since they won a World Series. And I can appreciate the humor. Hey, it's a good line.

But if he makes any comment to me this season, I'm ready with "it's a long time since 2001."

HAWKINS BAKERY

I'm not sure why one bakery has held such a fond memory of my youth. It wasn't even close to being the best bakery in town. It was one of several. It had no appeal as to my sweet tooth either.

It was Hawkins Bakery, located just down the street from the Fire Dept. For some reason several of my high school friends and I would go to the bakery on Friday or Saturday nights and for one quarter we would buy a small loaf of fresh, hot baked bread.

Normally we wouldn't go to the back door before 11:00 PM or so. We'd get our bread, not even sliced, and walk home from the Sub. The Sub was a teen hangout where records were played, plans were made, stories were embellished, friendships were made or broken, and dates were taken. Some danced, but most just hung out.

But Hawkins Bakery was the last call to at least two of my teenage years. When Rich Archer and I would walk home after our night at the sub, we would eat the hollowed out bread as it was. That is, no butter or jelly. That might serve as breakfast the next morning around 9 or 10 AM, but that night it was warm bread and night air.

I don't know why we ever started doing that or why we ever quit. But it was great. I can almost smell the bread as I reflect.

HE'S TOAST OR HE'S THE TOAST OF THE TOWN

I wonder how many, if any, faithful reader(s) will think of Shawn Taylor when they see the picture on the right which spawned today's blog entry. Well, here's the story.

At MTV High in the early 90's, some Black students searching to make a style statement started wearing a necklace with a map outline of the continent of Africa. It was pretty big and noticeable. I never understood what it meant, but I never understand a lot of things done in the name of style.

I never saw anything offensive about them. They did seem like a lot to carry around the neck, but, hey, they made more sense to me than grills do today. No others countries or continents were in vogue or displayed as far as I remember.

Then there was Shawn. He took a string and one piece of toast and made a necklace that he wore around his neck. I mean it was just a single piece of toast. A personal statement of style? A counter reaction to the Africa necklaces? A form of protest? You'd have to ask Shawn. But it wouldn't do any good. He wouldn't tell you anyway.

WHAT WOULD MAKE A PELICAN DANCE?

Besides a pelican of the opposite sex. Maybe he's Jonathan Livingstone Pelican. It's too bad that book/movie has fallen into oblivion.

What a great story about overcoming the mundane. About challenging oneself to achieve greatness. About being an inspiration to others. I also think there were some religious overtones, but it has been too long since I read it. I even taught it in a course called Literature of the Supernatural.

But why aren't there seagulls and pelicans and even cows and pigs that could do so much more than hunt and eat. And live for the day. And take and take and never give. And never care for others. And never think of a higher being (other than the ones who may be food providers).

Why can't there be more dancing pelicans and Jonathan L. Seagulls? And people who will take up a cross and follow?

SO WHAT IS IT? GUMBALLS OR GUMMY BEARS?

That is the pivotal question, you know. And you cannot be both. Unless you're under the age of 6, but only then can you be in the camp of gumballs and gummy bears.

The sweetness of gumballs would seem to favor the females. Texture, smooth and round, would also seem more feminine. Sweet taste with no hint at tartness and only a little aftertaste would seem to put the gumballers firmly on the side of the y-chromy set.

Gummy bears by name is oxymoronic. The tartness co-mingled with sweetness perfectly describes most males. We can be that way--sweet that is, but it's against our nature and our tartness, our nastiness seeps through. No discernible shape would also describe the male gender. Aftertaste? Well, you'll have to ask someone else, but I know our before taste is sometimes pretty nasty. Gummy bears seems to fit the mold of males.

There's also a chance that you could lose a filling biting into a gummy bear. Gum balls might be bad for your teeth, but you should have them, plus fillings, plus any dental appliances firmly in place after your culinary experience.

You know where I'm going with this. And it's all about da (gummy) bears.