In the process of cleaning stuff out of the house, I came across my blog. Imagine that... just over 2 years from my last post. (Major eye roll inserted here.)
My last post came in January of 2017, just after the inauguration of President Donald Trump. In that regard, it has certainly been an interesting 2 years but this post is not going down that avenue.
In late January of 2017, I took on a new role at work that occupied my time and kept me hopping long enough that I got away from writing and posting anything to the web. Needless to say I have missed it and now feel a little hesitant to jump back in. Kind of like my weight gain, and lack of exercise during the same hiatus from writing. It is hard to get going again, but all it takes is one little course correction and we can get back on track.
Speaking of course correction, I am using this blog post as a means of procrastination from getting back onto completing taxes. Thinking I should have paid more attention to the news reports about changes to the withholding amount during the year.
Turns out that is a big understatement as the amount to be paid for federal leaves my beloved and I a little perplexed and disjointed about the whole thing. From what I hear around the coffee machine at work and news media, we aren't the only people who found themselves at the toll booth of federal tax liability.
This may lead to a course of action to move away from the tax software and contact a tax professional. Not that we feel they will be able to find the magic method to drastically reduce or reverse the liability, but rather aid us in adjusting our exemptions and withholding to avoid a burden such as this in the future. A road map to less stress and worry for next year at this time.
Better to find a new route than to curse the pothole....
It seems the small changes being applied started last summer when I did in fact take a wrong turn.
We were in Sandusky, OH visiting my wife's family. My mother in law has not joined the digital age, thus she has no internet or WiFi. Hard to believe but it is true. In fact, she chooses to curse the internet as it has ruined everything. It seems that Nanny is no longer able to get a JCPenney Catalog because of the internet. That, in and of itself is indeed a travesty.
In search of WiFi to complete some certification training, I went to the McDonald's located on the Cedar Point Causeway. Upon purchasing a coffee and snacky, I inquired about the WiFi access. The very helpful employee who just served my Egg McMuffin looked at me and gave me an honest and accurate response. She said, "Our WiFi can be problematic." Joy not sparked. The next hour of start and stop video presentations left me convinced that 'problematic' was a gross understatement.
A quick search of the area revealed recommendations of a coffee shop in revitalized downtown Sandusky. Perfect, plug it into the GPS and off I go. Out of the parking lot and a right turn onto the Causeway and I will be there in less than 15 min. "Ohhhhhh, was I supposed to turn left there?"
No worries, we will turn around at the next opportunity and course correct. Then I noticed all of the traffic cones in the median. With the bay and Lake Erie on the right and no outlets to the left, I could only go forward, I couldn't go back. As the roller coasters began to rise into site in front of me, I knew I was getting close to the parking lot and would be able to swing around. Only after issuing the only phrase one can possibly say in the parking lot of an amusement park. "Look kids, Roy Wally World." I digress.
As I approached the parking attendant booth, I rolled down the window and chuckled as I began to explain my dilemma to Mary. "Well Ma'am, I missed a turn on 1st Street and had no other opportunity to turn around. Can I just swing through the lot and out the exit.?"
Mary looked at me and deadpanned, "No, we have a no-turnaround policy and you will have to pay the $20 parking fee."
My chuckle started to wither and die in my throat.....
Then before I could offer my best challenge to this outrageous policy, Mary smiled and said, "just hold onto your receipt, drive up to the end of the curb, turn left and left again to come back along side the other side of the building and the attendant will refund your money."
I blinked, smiled and said, "Ok, Sounds great!" and I thanked Mary for her time and information as I handed over $20. As Mary handed me my receipt, she commented, "Boy, you are much nicer about this than most people."
I explained to Mary, I saw it as being my issue because I was the one who missed the turn, which was certainly not her fault nor justification for me to curse her or the policy for no free turnarounds. (Which, I am certain, is in place for a reason.) We thanked each other and I made my two left turns, received my refund and on my way.
Through the last half of 2018 and especially going into 2019, I have thought about that exchange with Mary. We often take wrong turns. Whether driving, taking care of our health, tending to our taxes or finances, a wrong turn can take you down a road to a point you don't particularly want to find yourself.
With a little self assessment, admission of ownership for the wrong turn, application of a little course correction and you can find yourself back on the path to your desired destination. More importantly, you can feel good about not blaming the 'Mary's' of the world for the 'wrong turns' we have taken.
Small changes have a big effect....
Now, about those taxes... deep breath.
Sunday, March 3, 2019
Sunday, January 22, 2017
I-Day Plus One
The last 24 hours, as it has every four years for a very, very long time, brought change to our Great Nation. This change becomes more poignant, when there is a change in the occupant of the Oval Office.
I for one, am not a political aficionado. I do not claim to know it all. I don’t even claim to know what is best for all. I don’t like heated discussions where friendships or family ties will be forgotten or shoved to the side. You can probably tell that I am not an extremist, one way, or the other. The whole run for the White House campaign period wears on me quickly but I guess it is a necessary evil.
Having been in leadership roles, I certainly understand that you will never please everyone, all the time. For one, it is not possible. Secondly, if you do please everyone, then you are likely not doing your job in the best interest of your employer or customer. In the long run, that will catch up to you as well.
I could watch some of the Inauguration Day events for President Trump yesterday as I had access to a TV during the day. I like to observe grandiose events such as this, which put our nation on display. Whether it be a Fourth of July Celebration, Memorial Day remembrance or a Presidential Inauguration, I would tune in for the glimpse of the pageantry and content of the event. Especially when they talk of the past and compare it to the present.
That’s just me.
Later in the broadcast, they went to a live feed of a protest going on blocks from the parade route. The sound of the flash bangs caught my attention and then I watched, with concern, that it was a terrorist attack. My heart started to sink at the thought of it being an attack. Thankfully, it wasn’t a terrorist attack but it remained a disturbing occurrence in my opinion. It wasn’t disturbing because the protest was directed at President Trump, but that it resulted in such conflict. A conflict requiring the use of tear gas, flash bangs, protestors throwing rocks and bricks from what was described. Then the destruction of property along the street and later in the day, the scene of a limo burning. How does any of this help any cause???
People, who know me, know I love the music of the 60’s, maybe I wouldn’t have fit in with the ‘Power to the People’ crowd. I would have likely been more like Forrest Gump. I am just glad I found my Jenny. I digress.
I felt bad for those folks who wanted to attend the parade or a related event, only to find their way blocked by protesters in linked arms. Even men in uniform were blocked from access.
Ever since the election, I have seen many statements of ‘Not my President’ or some variation of that statement. It has been posted, tweeted, hash tagged, bumper stickered and t-shirted. I think I even saw it on a hat.
I also saw a sign that said, ‘America was never great.’ Good thing I don’t believe that because honestly, it made me sad.
Quite frankly, I am so thankful that I live in a nation which provides the freedom of speech in such a manner. The freedom to gather for a cause, to share your opinion. Embrace your freedom. But also, I feel, one should honor the freedom of others.
I get concerned or bothered when the protestors choose to enact violence towards others or push the limits that results in a consequence. Feel free to state your opinion but don’t force feed it to others. It bothers me when protests turn to damage of property which belongs to hard working people who have no impact on your cause one way or another. Please have some respect.
I am aware enough to know that whomever gets in the White House, will lead to protests. I am sure it occurred 8 years ago, just as it did yesterday. Most likely at every change in Presidency, whether a shift in party or not. Just as I saw disturbing sights yesterday, I saw them 8 years ago, as well. Bottom line, I don’t like anger and hate.
It makes me wonder if some of the people protesting yesterday also protested President Obama as well. Some folks aren’t happy unless they are involved in something radical. I would bet money on it. Kind of like the line of Alfred Pennyworth in “The Dark Knight’ when describing the Joker. “Some people just want to watch the world burn.”
Someone please tell me how blocking the way for someone to attend a parade helps your cause? I saw one video where an Air Force officer in uniform politely acknowledged the protestors who blocked the checkpoint to the parade. The officer turned to the left to go around, only to be met by another protestor in his face. The next protestor appeared to tell the officer that he would have to choose another path to enter. The officer politely acknowledged that person then continued another way. Why was this Air Force Officer and the enlisted man with him denied the opportunity to access the check point? What purpose did it serve? It appears to me they displayed the ability to organize, lock arms together in order to be rude and deny others the opportunity to attend a parade. What did it accomplish?? Respect others freedom to live.
I once started to have that feeling of ‘Not My President.’ But then I took a step back and took stock. At the time, I was an NCO in the Ohio Army National Guard. The person elected was now the Commander in Chief.
When I enlisted, the following oath was administered:
An oath, whose wording is largely intact since 1789, modified in May, 1960 and again in October, 1962 to the current version which I took in December of 1986.
So regardless of how I personally felt, The President of the United States was in fact The Commander in Chief.
As citizens, we are able to cast our vote. I cast my vote on a very consistent basis. That is what I own and what I possess actual control over. I am not quite sure that you can ever possess a President of a large nation and world power. Even if you voted for them, are they ever really ‘Your President?’ I don’t believe so. They are The President.
Even if you voted for them, I am pretty sure that they won’t always make you happy. So if they don’t make you happy, do you disown them if you ever declared they were ‘My President?’ I am sure it happens.
Essentially, I came to realize that once the vote was cast; the oath was administered; the weight of being The President of the United States of America was now upon their shoulders. This person was now The President of the United States. Whether their last name was Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush, Clinton, Bush or Obama, they were in fact, The President of the United States of America.
Anyone having the courage and willingness to take on the responsibility, in and of itself deserves an enormous amount of respect and commendation in my opinion. It is certainly not a comfy chair day in and day out. You can see that by how the men who hold the office age and change while in office.
I had that thought yesterday as Donald Trump took the oath of office to become The President of the United States. My hat is off to anyone who can take on the responsibility of the office. I may tweet President Obama to acknowledge his terms in office and thank him for his service to our nation. When I got the internet way back when, visited The White House online and saw a link to send a note to The President. So I sent a message to President Clinton. I recall telling him, ‘even though I didn’t vote for you, thank you for taking on the responsibility.’ I may still have the return letter in a file somewhere.
So when I see the messages of ‘not my President’, it just makes me wonder if they went and bought their own president at Target or something.
Regardless, while The President is in office, I will choose to support the office whether the candidate I cast ‘my vote’ for occupies the office or not. I maintained that for the last 8 years. I will maintain it for the next four years and then see where it goes from there. If someone chooses to argue that I am only saying this because the candidate for whom I cast my vote is in office, go ahead. What I have said is true. As with any leader, I am sure I will agree with some things they say and do while disagree with others.
I also know that every day I will give thanks for this great nation and I will pray for The President of the United States and the leaders of our nation to guide us effectively. Regardless of the year, regardless of party, regardless of the last name, I will continue to be an American and support The President of the United States.
I celebrated Inauguration Day +1 in an appropriate fashion. I checked Facebook.
I saw many message of support for The President; I saw messages against The President; I saw ‘#NotMyPresident’ posted several times. I saw supporters of the The President swapping posts with those who are not in favor.
I saw that Scott, my college roommate was lamenting a tough 9 months. Earlier this year, he lost his sister after her battle with cancer. Something I wish no other families would have to experience.
Recently, Scott and his family also mourned the loss of Sam, their family dog. Scott referred to Sam as his best buddy.
I posted a message to Scott, offering my condolences, support and wishes for a brighter future. I chose to ignore all those other posts.
I would rather offer words of support and wishes for a brighter future to a friend in need. Try in some way to make the world a better place in a positive manner. Hope that my action reduces the strife and rage that seems to be so acceptable across many mediums.
Try to live my life and lead my family in the best manner possible. Create and environment based on Faith, Hope and Love.
From the way I read some of the posts or messages, whether related to this recent election or one of the past, the status of the author’s existence is solely based on who is in The White House.
In all actuality it is up to you. Instead of being angered or filled with strife, take a moment to just be nice to someone. Maybe someone you disagree in regard to this most recent election. Or just do your best, to live your life to the best of your ability. Find one thing to do better today than you did yesterday. If we all do that, it all adds up.
It may just brighten your day.
Try it, you may like it.
(Also, find your Jenny, it is one of the best things to happen in my life. :-)
I for one, am not a political aficionado. I do not claim to know it all. I don’t even claim to know what is best for all. I don’t like heated discussions where friendships or family ties will be forgotten or shoved to the side. You can probably tell that I am not an extremist, one way, or the other. The whole run for the White House campaign period wears on me quickly but I guess it is a necessary evil.
Having been in leadership roles, I certainly understand that you will never please everyone, all the time. For one, it is not possible. Secondly, if you do please everyone, then you are likely not doing your job in the best interest of your employer or customer. In the long run, that will catch up to you as well.
I could watch some of the Inauguration Day events for President Trump yesterday as I had access to a TV during the day. I like to observe grandiose events such as this, which put our nation on display. Whether it be a Fourth of July Celebration, Memorial Day remembrance or a Presidential Inauguration, I would tune in for the glimpse of the pageantry and content of the event. Especially when they talk of the past and compare it to the present.
That’s just me.
Later in the broadcast, they went to a live feed of a protest going on blocks from the parade route. The sound of the flash bangs caught my attention and then I watched, with concern, that it was a terrorist attack. My heart started to sink at the thought of it being an attack. Thankfully, it wasn’t a terrorist attack but it remained a disturbing occurrence in my opinion. It wasn’t disturbing because the protest was directed at President Trump, but that it resulted in such conflict. A conflict requiring the use of tear gas, flash bangs, protestors throwing rocks and bricks from what was described. Then the destruction of property along the street and later in the day, the scene of a limo burning. How does any of this help any cause???
People, who know me, know I love the music of the 60’s, maybe I wouldn’t have fit in with the ‘Power to the People’ crowd. I would have likely been more like Forrest Gump. I am just glad I found my Jenny. I digress.
I felt bad for those folks who wanted to attend the parade or a related event, only to find their way blocked by protesters in linked arms. Even men in uniform were blocked from access.
Ever since the election, I have seen many statements of ‘Not my President’ or some variation of that statement. It has been posted, tweeted, hash tagged, bumper stickered and t-shirted. I think I even saw it on a hat.
I also saw a sign that said, ‘America was never great.’ Good thing I don’t believe that because honestly, it made me sad.
Quite frankly, I am so thankful that I live in a nation which provides the freedom of speech in such a manner. The freedom to gather for a cause, to share your opinion. Embrace your freedom. But also, I feel, one should honor the freedom of others.
I get concerned or bothered when the protestors choose to enact violence towards others or push the limits that results in a consequence. Feel free to state your opinion but don’t force feed it to others. It bothers me when protests turn to damage of property which belongs to hard working people who have no impact on your cause one way or another. Please have some respect.
I am aware enough to know that whomever gets in the White House, will lead to protests. I am sure it occurred 8 years ago, just as it did yesterday. Most likely at every change in Presidency, whether a shift in party or not. Just as I saw disturbing sights yesterday, I saw them 8 years ago, as well. Bottom line, I don’t like anger and hate.
It makes me wonder if some of the people protesting yesterday also protested President Obama as well. Some folks aren’t happy unless they are involved in something radical. I would bet money on it. Kind of like the line of Alfred Pennyworth in “The Dark Knight’ when describing the Joker. “Some people just want to watch the world burn.”
Someone please tell me how blocking the way for someone to attend a parade helps your cause? I saw one video where an Air Force officer in uniform politely acknowledged the protestors who blocked the checkpoint to the parade. The officer turned to the left to go around, only to be met by another protestor in his face. The next protestor appeared to tell the officer that he would have to choose another path to enter. The officer politely acknowledged that person then continued another way. Why was this Air Force Officer and the enlisted man with him denied the opportunity to access the check point? What purpose did it serve? It appears to me they displayed the ability to organize, lock arms together in order to be rude and deny others the opportunity to attend a parade. What did it accomplish?? Respect others freedom to live.
I once started to have that feeling of ‘Not My President.’ But then I took a step back and took stock. At the time, I was an NCO in the Ohio Army National Guard. The person elected was now the Commander in Chief.
When I enlisted, the following oath was administered:
"I, Joseph A Koesters, do solemnly swear, (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God."
So regardless of how I personally felt, The President of the United States was in fact The Commander in Chief.
As citizens, we are able to cast our vote. I cast my vote on a very consistent basis. That is what I own and what I possess actual control over. I am not quite sure that you can ever possess a President of a large nation and world power. Even if you voted for them, are they ever really ‘Your President?’ I don’t believe so. They are The President.
Even if you voted for them, I am pretty sure that they won’t always make you happy. So if they don’t make you happy, do you disown them if you ever declared they were ‘My President?’ I am sure it happens.
Essentially, I came to realize that once the vote was cast; the oath was administered; the weight of being The President of the United States of America was now upon their shoulders. This person was now The President of the United States. Whether their last name was Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush, Clinton, Bush or Obama, they were in fact, The President of the United States of America.
Anyone having the courage and willingness to take on the responsibility, in and of itself deserves an enormous amount of respect and commendation in my opinion. It is certainly not a comfy chair day in and day out. You can see that by how the men who hold the office age and change while in office.
I had that thought yesterday as Donald Trump took the oath of office to become The President of the United States. My hat is off to anyone who can take on the responsibility of the office. I may tweet President Obama to acknowledge his terms in office and thank him for his service to our nation. When I got the internet way back when, visited The White House online and saw a link to send a note to The President. So I sent a message to President Clinton. I recall telling him, ‘even though I didn’t vote for you, thank you for taking on the responsibility.’ I may still have the return letter in a file somewhere.
So when I see the messages of ‘not my President’, it just makes me wonder if they went and bought their own president at Target or something.
Regardless, while The President is in office, I will choose to support the office whether the candidate I cast ‘my vote’ for occupies the office or not. I maintained that for the last 8 years. I will maintain it for the next four years and then see where it goes from there. If someone chooses to argue that I am only saying this because the candidate for whom I cast my vote is in office, go ahead. What I have said is true. As with any leader, I am sure I will agree with some things they say and do while disagree with others.
I also know that every day I will give thanks for this great nation and I will pray for The President of the United States and the leaders of our nation to guide us effectively. Regardless of the year, regardless of party, regardless of the last name, I will continue to be an American and support The President of the United States.
I celebrated Inauguration Day +1 in an appropriate fashion. I checked Facebook.
I saw many message of support for The President; I saw messages against The President; I saw ‘#NotMyPresident’ posted several times. I saw supporters of the The President swapping posts with those who are not in favor.
I saw that Scott, my college roommate was lamenting a tough 9 months. Earlier this year, he lost his sister after her battle with cancer. Something I wish no other families would have to experience.
Recently, Scott and his family also mourned the loss of Sam, their family dog. Scott referred to Sam as his best buddy.
I posted a message to Scott, offering my condolences, support and wishes for a brighter future. I chose to ignore all those other posts.
I would rather offer words of support and wishes for a brighter future to a friend in need. Try in some way to make the world a better place in a positive manner. Hope that my action reduces the strife and rage that seems to be so acceptable across many mediums.
Try to live my life and lead my family in the best manner possible. Create and environment based on Faith, Hope and Love.
From the way I read some of the posts or messages, whether related to this recent election or one of the past, the status of the author’s existence is solely based on who is in The White House.
In all actuality it is up to you. Instead of being angered or filled with strife, take a moment to just be nice to someone. Maybe someone you disagree in regard to this most recent election. Or just do your best, to live your life to the best of your ability. Find one thing to do better today than you did yesterday. If we all do that, it all adds up.
It may just brighten your day.
Try it, you may like it.
(Also, find your Jenny, it is one of the best things to happen in my life. :-)
Saturday, September 24, 2016
The Moms of Fall...
I grew up in the small town of Coldwater, located in the western part of the great state of Ohio. It was what you could call, a clothesline town.
Each week, weather permitting, the baby boomer Mom's in town would hang out the laundry to dry. Walking home from school in the fall, I couldn't help but notice when the football jersey's and pants started to appear. After attending the high school game on Friday night, you began to notice which gridiron heroes lived near you. At that time, I started to think about the days when I would have my own jersey hanging on a clothes line. To me, it meant that I was part of the ultimate game and more importantly, a Coldwater Cavalier. Little did I know that there was so much more behind it.
In 2010, Kenny Chesney released his classic song the Boys of Fall. This song has hit home for all who have played the game. The lyrics address the inner feelings which grow within the team, the unity and the timeless bond. Kenny includes other aspects of the game such as the fans, the old men who know it all and he mentions the young girls who dream about the boys of fall.
Kenny, you are great and all, but I am sorry, you missed one very large aspect of the game and more importantly a key member of the football family unit which grows in importance from the group of young men who step onto the gridiron.
I am speaking of course about the Moms of Fall.
Mom up in the stands, who lives and dies with every play. Who has held her breath so hard one moment and yelled so loudly the next, her voice is unmistakable to her son amidst several thousand in the stands. Mom who prays for her son to both be given a chance and receive the best of protection in that quiet moment when they turn and face the stars and stripes.
The same person who has taken that grimy, dirty practice uniform from the gym bag with a look of aversion only to produce a uniform that is worthy of her son to wear to practice and of course on game night. Even when that uniform is produced from a gym bag leaking a muddy brown form of liquid from one corner after a monsoon like practice. (True Story)
My friend Brian told me his Mom had a special process to remove the grass and mud stains from his white game pants. A football mom wants nothing but the best for her young man on the field. Football season could be particularly tough on that washer and dryer.
I have overheard Moms in the stands who worry their son needs water or a towel. A worry voiced repeatedly until the need is met. I have seen those same Moms thank the person providing the water or towel after the game, just because it eased her concern. Those worries soon replaced by the fact that a linebacker is bearing down on her boy and he better just BACK OFF!! Then there are those Mom's who may not be 100% sure what a linebacker is if her son doesn't play that position. The pride runs no less deep.
The meals provided, the game day routine observed, an extra snack for the bus ride to the game. An extra special one for the bus ride home. The victory meals or the consoling fare to ease the sting if things didn't go their way. Mom seemed to know what worked best.
Let's not forget the cookies. Baked goods of all kinds are welcome by a gridiron gang but in our football family circle, the cookies were the bomb. Those don't just happen. For our boys, there were the game day cookies made by Missy, (some of us Dad's benefited from these as well.) Once we reached the playoffs, there were the 'Playoff Cookies' that my wife Kelly brought to the games. The reasons for victory run deep.
You see them in the crowd as you enter the stadium, The Moms of Fall. A number on her shirt, a button worn with pride, the special good luck item that will bring her son and his team the bit of luck, or 'Mojo' as we like to call it. Even the mother of the Head Coach will wear her son's button from his high school or maybe college playing days. They beam with an unmatched pride and cheer like no other, they are the Moms of Fall.
As their son moves from the youth leagues, through junior high and up to the varsity ranks, Mom learns how to celebrate the victories and more importantly, how to navigate the troubled waters of a painful loss or less than desired level of performance. The grumpy slouch, the one word answers, the brooding silent stare of resolve. Mom would like to talk, to make it better but understands that space, and probably a snack, will be best for now.
It is not until years later, that the Boys of Fall begin to understand, your loss, was her loss, your victory, was her victory, your mistake, was her mistake, your pain became her pain.
The worst pain, coming in the form of injury, especially a season ending injury. Even beyond the injury itself, Mom deals with pain of being unable to take away the mental pain that goes with it.
My friend Deb faced this not once but twice when her two oldest sons suffered season ending knee injuries in the first games of their senior year. Beyond the medical procedures and the physical therapy sessions, many countless hours spent just wanting to do something, anything to give them back their season. The constant desire to get beyond the surly exterior caused by the harsh reality becomes the new playing field for Mom to be the best she can be for her son. The trepidation for Deb remained however as her third son took the field on Friday nights. Each week came the frenetic rise and fall of emotion through the game to make sure that he walked off the field at the end of the game.
Today, at the end of each game, you see photos being taken with teammates, friends and classmates. Perhaps some special family members who traveled to see the game. Mom recording all of these moments to keep them treasured forever. Mom gets her rightful place in several photos for she wants to hold onto the moment forever. The triumphs on the field fueling the smiles and joy. Only Mom can deliver a post game hug so tight that it penetrates the armor worn by the Boys of Fall.
Other than senior night, I am not sure I have any photos with my Mom while I was in uniform, It wasn't as prevalent to do so in the mid 80's. We headed to the locker room and saw Mom and Dad when we got home. But there are those memories.
On the morning of October 21, 1983, I had returned from my morning job at Bettie's Restaurant uptown. In time to get cleaned up for school and put on my game-day jersey. It was week 8, the Cavs were 7 - 0 heading into New Bremen to take on the Cardinals that night. Mom was at the stove in her housecoat making that special gameday breakfast. Dippy eggs, bacon and toast is a staple in our family on the weekend. On Friday morning, it was special.
My orange juice ran low and I asked Mom if I could please have more. ( I am sure I said please.) Her reply more than caught me off guard. She said, "You can have more juice if you promise to score a touchdown for me tonight." Said with her grin that my siblings and I miss so much.
For many players, this could be, while not a guarantee, much more likely than it was for me. I played defensive tackle which, as many will attest provides very limited opportunities to touch the ball let alone score. Nonetheless, I gave her my assurances, "I will do my best Mom,"
The game that night progressed to the third quarter and the Cavs mounting a 35 - 7 lead. Our defense had New Bremen backed up facing fourth and long from their own 13 yard line. The Cardinal punter caught the snap and the sound of his foot hitting the ball was soon followed by another 'Thump!'
BLOCKED!!!
Kevin Dues blocked the punt and the chase for the ball was on. Linebackers Mike Kaiser and Chuck Alig knocked each other down going for it and I dove over the top of the them and found it! The Holy Grail, the Holy of Holies, the football on the ground. I covered it up and saw the official raising his arms!! I was in the end zone!!!! TOUCHDOWN!!! Chaos ensued as my defensive teammates and I went to the bench.
I sat on the bench and it took about two seconds to remember the bartering for more orange juice. How?, How did she know? I looked up in the stands and saw Mom, cheering, smiling, beaming with pride. Like a Mom of Fall. Can all of the Mom's of fall see the future?
Later in the year, our tenth game as we finished undefeated, I intercepted a pass. Another unexpected occurrence for a defensive lineman. Through an unusual chain of events, the ball somehow made it to our sidelines and was given to me later on the bus ride home to Coldwater. I brought the ball into the house and put it on the kitchen counter. figuring I would get it later. My parents were gathered there with their close friends. After chatting for a bit, my friends and I left to celebrate. The next day, I couldn't find the football.
I looked around and soon gave up and asked Mom. Without looking up from her work, she said it was in her curio cabinet. My eyes got wide. The curio cabinet was pretty much off limits to anyone but Mom. It contained her most precious treasures and nick knacks. It turned out that their friend Leroy Kessen thought the ball deserved a place of honor and he put it in Mom's curio. I asked nervously if she wanted it taken out of there. She replied, "No, its fine." I said, "Cool," and walked away thinking that was pretty neat. A football in Mom's curio.
The ball stayed in their for a few years after it was autographed by all of my teammates. One summer, I returned home from college and it had found its way to my bedroom. Moved by a Mom of Fall.
Each year, as September fades, I especially think of my Mom and all the wonderful things she has done for me, for our family. I see her every Football Friday night, in the faces, the scarves and jackets. I see her in the ones wearing the buttons with their son's face on them, cheering, praying, hoping.
Twelve years ago on this date, I received the call from my family, the worst call I think I could have ever received. There had been an accident. Mom hadn't gone to the Coldwater vs St Henry game that night but had been on her way to meet family and relatives at a post game party.
The street was dark, the driver didn't see her. There had been an accident.
The next week we found a way to get by, we found a way to take a breath, to take another step, to hold each other closer than we had ever had before. We made sure we took care of each other as Mom would want us to. We also made sure to give forgiveness to the young man involved, as Mom taught us.
I was given solace from the Cavaliers as I stopped by the practice field. They knew my Mom as she worked in the school cafeteria. The Boys of Fall had my back, they referred to her as the 'Nice One' in the lunch line.
Each fall,the season starts and the season ends. The Mom's of Fall live on in bright shining moments forever etched in our football lore.
Through a playoff run, the rituals and the Mom Mojo takes on an even bigger meaning. With each week, the nerves and anticipation builds early in the week.
With victory, the Mom's will celebrate tremendously and swell with pride. As the stage gets larger, the breath gets held longer, the voice gets louder.
It would be nice if Kenny could add a verse. I feel the Moms of Fall need immortalized as well.
If for no other reason, for when things don't turn out like they had hoped, especially on the largest stage, the hearts of the Mom's of Fall are breaking just like those of the boys................
maybe a little more.
Addendum:
10/4/16
Each week, weather permitting, the baby boomer Mom's in town would hang out the laundry to dry. Walking home from school in the fall, I couldn't help but notice when the football jersey's and pants started to appear. After attending the high school game on Friday night, you began to notice which gridiron heroes lived near you. At that time, I started to think about the days when I would have my own jersey hanging on a clothes line. To me, it meant that I was part of the ultimate game and more importantly, a Coldwater Cavalier. Little did I know that there was so much more behind it.
In 2010, Kenny Chesney released his classic song the Boys of Fall. This song has hit home for all who have played the game. The lyrics address the inner feelings which grow within the team, the unity and the timeless bond. Kenny includes other aspects of the game such as the fans, the old men who know it all and he mentions the young girls who dream about the boys of fall.
Kenny, you are great and all, but I am sorry, you missed one very large aspect of the game and more importantly a key member of the football family unit which grows in importance from the group of young men who step onto the gridiron.
I am speaking of course about the Moms of Fall.
Mom up in the stands, who lives and dies with every play. Who has held her breath so hard one moment and yelled so loudly the next, her voice is unmistakable to her son amidst several thousand in the stands. Mom who prays for her son to both be given a chance and receive the best of protection in that quiet moment when they turn and face the stars and stripes.
The same person who has taken that grimy, dirty practice uniform from the gym bag with a look of aversion only to produce a uniform that is worthy of her son to wear to practice and of course on game night. Even when that uniform is produced from a gym bag leaking a muddy brown form of liquid from one corner after a monsoon like practice. (True Story)
My friend Brian told me his Mom had a special process to remove the grass and mud stains from his white game pants. A football mom wants nothing but the best for her young man on the field. Football season could be particularly tough on that washer and dryer.
I have overheard Moms in the stands who worry their son needs water or a towel. A worry voiced repeatedly until the need is met. I have seen those same Moms thank the person providing the water or towel after the game, just because it eased her concern. Those worries soon replaced by the fact that a linebacker is bearing down on her boy and he better just BACK OFF!! Then there are those Mom's who may not be 100% sure what a linebacker is if her son doesn't play that position. The pride runs no less deep.
The meals provided, the game day routine observed, an extra snack for the bus ride to the game. An extra special one for the bus ride home. The victory meals or the consoling fare to ease the sting if things didn't go their way. Mom seemed to know what worked best.
Let's not forget the cookies. Baked goods of all kinds are welcome by a gridiron gang but in our football family circle, the cookies were the bomb. Those don't just happen. For our boys, there were the game day cookies made by Missy, (some of us Dad's benefited from these as well.) Once we reached the playoffs, there were the 'Playoff Cookies' that my wife Kelly brought to the games. The reasons for victory run deep.
You see them in the crowd as you enter the stadium, The Moms of Fall. A number on her shirt, a button worn with pride, the special good luck item that will bring her son and his team the bit of luck, or 'Mojo' as we like to call it. Even the mother of the Head Coach will wear her son's button from his high school or maybe college playing days. They beam with an unmatched pride and cheer like no other, they are the Moms of Fall.
As their son moves from the youth leagues, through junior high and up to the varsity ranks, Mom learns how to celebrate the victories and more importantly, how to navigate the troubled waters of a painful loss or less than desired level of performance. The grumpy slouch, the one word answers, the brooding silent stare of resolve. Mom would like to talk, to make it better but understands that space, and probably a snack, will be best for now.
It is not until years later, that the Boys of Fall begin to understand, your loss, was her loss, your victory, was her victory, your mistake, was her mistake, your pain became her pain.
The worst pain, coming in the form of injury, especially a season ending injury. Even beyond the injury itself, Mom deals with pain of being unable to take away the mental pain that goes with it.
My friend Deb faced this not once but twice when her two oldest sons suffered season ending knee injuries in the first games of their senior year. Beyond the medical procedures and the physical therapy sessions, many countless hours spent just wanting to do something, anything to give them back their season. The constant desire to get beyond the surly exterior caused by the harsh reality becomes the new playing field for Mom to be the best she can be for her son. The trepidation for Deb remained however as her third son took the field on Friday nights. Each week came the frenetic rise and fall of emotion through the game to make sure that he walked off the field at the end of the game.
Today, at the end of each game, you see photos being taken with teammates, friends and classmates. Perhaps some special family members who traveled to see the game. Mom recording all of these moments to keep them treasured forever. Mom gets her rightful place in several photos for she wants to hold onto the moment forever. The triumphs on the field fueling the smiles and joy. Only Mom can deliver a post game hug so tight that it penetrates the armor worn by the Boys of Fall.
Other than senior night, I am not sure I have any photos with my Mom while I was in uniform, It wasn't as prevalent to do so in the mid 80's. We headed to the locker room and saw Mom and Dad when we got home. But there are those memories.
On the morning of October 21, 1983, I had returned from my morning job at Bettie's Restaurant uptown. In time to get cleaned up for school and put on my game-day jersey. It was week 8, the Cavs were 7 - 0 heading into New Bremen to take on the Cardinals that night. Mom was at the stove in her housecoat making that special gameday breakfast. Dippy eggs, bacon and toast is a staple in our family on the weekend. On Friday morning, it was special.
My orange juice ran low and I asked Mom if I could please have more. ( I am sure I said please.) Her reply more than caught me off guard. She said, "You can have more juice if you promise to score a touchdown for me tonight." Said with her grin that my siblings and I miss so much.
For many players, this could be, while not a guarantee, much more likely than it was for me. I played defensive tackle which, as many will attest provides very limited opportunities to touch the ball let alone score. Nonetheless, I gave her my assurances, "I will do my best Mom,"
The game that night progressed to the third quarter and the Cavs mounting a 35 - 7 lead. Our defense had New Bremen backed up facing fourth and long from their own 13 yard line. The Cardinal punter caught the snap and the sound of his foot hitting the ball was soon followed by another 'Thump!'
BLOCKED!!!
Kevin Dues blocked the punt and the chase for the ball was on. Linebackers Mike Kaiser and Chuck Alig knocked each other down going for it and I dove over the top of the them and found it! The Holy Grail, the Holy of Holies, the football on the ground. I covered it up and saw the official raising his arms!! I was in the end zone!!!! TOUCHDOWN!!! Chaos ensued as my defensive teammates and I went to the bench.
I sat on the bench and it took about two seconds to remember the bartering for more orange juice. How?, How did she know? I looked up in the stands and saw Mom, cheering, smiling, beaming with pride. Like a Mom of Fall. Can all of the Mom's of fall see the future?
Later in the year, our tenth game as we finished undefeated, I intercepted a pass. Another unexpected occurrence for a defensive lineman. Through an unusual chain of events, the ball somehow made it to our sidelines and was given to me later on the bus ride home to Coldwater. I brought the ball into the house and put it on the kitchen counter. figuring I would get it later. My parents were gathered there with their close friends. After chatting for a bit, my friends and I left to celebrate. The next day, I couldn't find the football.
I looked around and soon gave up and asked Mom. Without looking up from her work, she said it was in her curio cabinet. My eyes got wide. The curio cabinet was pretty much off limits to anyone but Mom. It contained her most precious treasures and nick knacks. It turned out that their friend Leroy Kessen thought the ball deserved a place of honor and he put it in Mom's curio. I asked nervously if she wanted it taken out of there. She replied, "No, its fine." I said, "Cool," and walked away thinking that was pretty neat. A football in Mom's curio.
The ball stayed in their for a few years after it was autographed by all of my teammates. One summer, I returned home from college and it had found its way to my bedroom. Moved by a Mom of Fall.
Each year, as September fades, I especially think of my Mom and all the wonderful things she has done for me, for our family. I see her every Football Friday night, in the faces, the scarves and jackets. I see her in the ones wearing the buttons with their son's face on them, cheering, praying, hoping.
Twelve years ago on this date, I received the call from my family, the worst call I think I could have ever received. There had been an accident. Mom hadn't gone to the Coldwater vs St Henry game that night but had been on her way to meet family and relatives at a post game party.
The street was dark, the driver didn't see her. There had been an accident.
The next week we found a way to get by, we found a way to take a breath, to take another step, to hold each other closer than we had ever had before. We made sure we took care of each other as Mom would want us to. We also made sure to give forgiveness to the young man involved, as Mom taught us.
I was given solace from the Cavaliers as I stopped by the practice field. They knew my Mom as she worked in the school cafeteria. The Boys of Fall had my back, they referred to her as the 'Nice One' in the lunch line.
Each fall,the season starts and the season ends. The Mom's of Fall live on in bright shining moments forever etched in our football lore.
Through a playoff run, the rituals and the Mom Mojo takes on an even bigger meaning. With each week, the nerves and anticipation builds early in the week.
With victory, the Mom's will celebrate tremendously and swell with pride. As the stage gets larger, the breath gets held longer, the voice gets louder.
It would be nice if Kenny could add a verse. I feel the Moms of Fall need immortalized as well.
If for no other reason, for when things don't turn out like they had hoped, especially on the largest stage, the hearts of the Mom's of Fall are breaking just like those of the boys................
maybe a little more.
Addendum:
10/4/16
In the last decade, I belonged to a message board hosting
site which centered on Ohio High School athletics. I spent most of my time on the football
message boards.
In September of 2010, while thinking about my Mom, I started
a thread about ‘Moms and their football playing sons.” I shared my stories as
provided in the blog above. I asked for
them to share their stories. Many of
which contributed to this blog which has been so well received. Other than a spelling correction or minor
format change, these are the comments as provided by the individuals who posted
them. (Poster Name in italics)
candoattitude
09-08-2010
Cool thread, no doubt.
My freshman year it became evident that we were not going to
have enough kids to field a freshman team. As a tailback, I feared getting my
butt kicked on Saturday mornings, and of course, getting it handed to me every
day in practice as the scout team RB.
So, I decided to quit just as two-a-days were gearing up. My
Mom (and Dad) couldn't change my mind. After three missed practices my Mother
had the head coach come to the house that evening. Coach Zody convinced me to
come back to the team that evening under the watchful eye of my Mother at her
kitchen table.
I went back to practice the next day, had a great
season....10 touchdowns and a 5-1 record if I remember correctly. By the time
my senior season concluded, I ended my football days as a First Team All Ohio
Wide Receiver.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Post from a Mom included
Central66
09-08-2010
I think it is the sweetest thing ever, thanking your mom's.
Mine is a former Tiger and now in college (football).
Speaking as a mom, I can honestly say..........your loss was
her loss, your victory was her victory, your mistake her mistake, your
pain.....hers.
I don't bother explaining it to my son yet, as he will only
FULLY understand this when he has a kid of his own.
Thanks for giving me hope fellas, that one day he will see
without me having to point it out.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
MACster
Location: Buzzard's Glory ( I left this in because it is a
Coldwater thing. J)
09-08-2010
In our playoff run during my senior year, my mom came across
a photo of when myself and about 8 other senior friends who were on the team
were in elementary. It was a photo from a friends' birthday party in which we
went mud diving in the woods with just our shorts on. None the less, we were
covered from head to toe in mud.
My mother copied the photo and made a small sign out of it
that said "whoopin butt since we've been 12!" The sign made it's way
to Paul Brown Tiger Stadium that year and won a state title.
Another good one, as I was walking down the 50 yard line
with my parents on Senior Night we got to the end and I turned to give my
father a hug, then I turned to give my mother a hug, but she wanted a kiss on
the cheek too. She forgot that it was 80 degrees out and my cheek was dripping
with sweat.
Here's a story from the group of Senior Moms during my senior
year. During the playoffs and a few away games the Senior Mom's would pack a
meal for us on our way home. The meal always included a sub, and everyone
wanted a mayo packet for their sub. Well after a few road games the mom's had
quite a few mayo packets left. At a get together after a game, one of the
Senior Mom's started hiding the extra mayo packets in another Senior parents
house. This went on throughout the season and to this day, 3 years later, one
of those Senior Mom's told me that she just found another mayo packet!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
D'Oro
09-08-2010
This is a story of two Mom's, Two or three years ago while attending a UA
football game I sat a few seats down from a lady who had two of those buttons
Mom's wear on their coats to show support for their sons, you know they have
pictures on them of the player. Well I
couldn't see who was on the buttons.
The game started, another woman sat in front of the woman
with the buttons and pulled out a book to read. Now I know this second woman is
most likely a band mother, so as the game goes on the first lady is cheering
and yelling at the refs, calling out the names of most of the players,
genuinely being a good fan (wish there were more) while the woman with the book
at first ignored this woman it became clear as time went on that she was
perturbed that this lady was ruining her read.
When half time was over the book lady resumed her reading
and the football mom resumed her cheering, now the book lady turns around and scowls,
while the football Mom says, "Who in the hell brings a book to a football
game!!"
Cooler heads prevailed and Book Lady leaves escorted by her husband. I also noticed at that time that this woman
was probably a grandma and not a mom. When the game was over I was curious to
see who her grandkids were. To my surprise,
they weren't players they were coaches, Mike Golden (head coach) and Ed Golden
(asst. coach)of the Upper Arlington Golden Bears were the pictures that she
displayed so proudly.
(Once a Mom of Fall, it stays with you.)
lmavcch3
09-09-2010
Heard a story from a Mom at tonight’s game. She made her son
bring every piece of equipment issued home after a week or two of practice to
clean it because, "it had to be nasty". She scrubbed it all up,
brought it to school the next day so he wouldn't have to deal with it on the
bus. She had it all nicely folded and organized. To her horror he came home and
told her he had to practice without his hip and butt pads. He went on to
explain that he didn't know how to put them in his girdle so he went without
them. She assured me next time; the pads would be installed after the next cleaning!!
Gotta love those Moms!!!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Walt
09-09-2010
I don't think my stories can touch some of these.
Here are some of my random memories....
My mom took pride in making sure my pants were clean each
week. We wore white game pants my first three years and played all of our games
on grass/mud. She had a special process for getting the grass & mud stains
out of my pants. I think she also went through two washers & dryers from
the time I was in 7th grade until I graduated.
Despite there being a couple thousand fans at the games, I
could always distinctly hear my mom's voice cheering. Against Bellaire I caught
a pass and had one man to beat for a TD. I just remember hearing her yell
"Go! Go!" and I kicked it into 5th gear and out ran him to the end
zone for a 54 yd. TD.
In the final regular season game of my senior year we had to
win to make the playoffs. We were on the road and ended up winning in double
overtime. All of our fans ran onto the field when we won and my mom was the
first person I saw. She was crying and hugging me so tight it hurt.
Other than that, I just remember always finding my parents
in the stands before the game started. I would always look up at them when we
ran onto the field. At home it was easy because they had the same season
tickets every year. On the road it was a challenge but a ritual. I wouldn't
feel ready to play until I saw them.
My Dad made all my football games, but his work schedule kept
him from attending every track meet. My mom never missed a single sports event
of mine and I remember her sitting in the cold & rain all by herself at the
early April track meets.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
04goldball
09-10-2010
Cool thread! My Mom always made spaghetti dinner every
Friday after school for me throughout high school. My mom washed my practice
jersey and pants too many times to count! Throughout the ten years I had the privilege
of playing football on game days always made a special lunch with 5 alive in a
thermos! The thing I will always remember most is that she was always there! No
matter what! My favorite thing now is that I can still thank her for the way
she raised not only me but for all 7 of us! Sound like we all have alot to be
thankful for!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Moose73
09-10-2010
You guys keep going with this thing and you'll have old
Moose in tears! My mom worked in the evenings and was never able to come to
games. She'd always ask me on Saturday mornings, "who won?" (Knowing
full well who DID win because she'd already seen the Dispatch sports page).
It's a tough thing for guy to lose his mom -no matter how old you or she is.
Love and respect her like there's no tomorrow because one day, she'll be gone.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Devilfan_4
09-12-2010
I love this thread! Football moms definately deserve a lot
of credit! My mom couldn't tell you what a Linebacker was, and that was my
position but she never missed a game, she washed the most disgusting stinking
a** uniforms for me, and she was there to give me a big hug after every game
weather it was a win or a loss and knew me well enough to know that if it was a
loss to just have a large pizza waiting for me at home and let me be pissed at
the world for the rest of the weekend and not bug me about it! She didn't
understand the game but she undrstood what it meant to me, and supported me in
every way imaginable!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Another Mom of Fall contributes her thoughts.
zambrown
09-16-2010
Too late. LOL As a sports mom, it's wonderful to hear all
you big, tough football players showing appreciation for all that your moms
have done for you.
Quote: (from the above post by Central66)
Speaking as a mom, I can honestly say..........your loss was
her loss, your victory was her victory,your mistake her mistake, your
pain.....hers.
I absolutely second this. When his heart breaks, so does
mine and when he succeeds, my heart wants to burst with pride!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Drewline
09-16-2010
Mom=MVP
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kill0331
09-16-2010
Every night during football season, my mom washed my
practice stuff, it didn't matter what time I got home from practice she always
cleaned it and had it ready for me the next morning.
I never had to wonder where my mom was going to be sitting
on those Friday nights, right at the 50, and 13 rows up. She would be there
every game by 5:00pm home or away. She would be waiting there to give me a kiss
and remind me "Play Every Down Like Its Your Last" and tell me
"She loves me and how proud I make her".
After my senior season, my last home game, we won 27-7. Her
and I sat there for about 2 hours on the sideline, talking, laughing, and
crying. What a ride it was. Nothing is better then Playing Ohio High School
Football on Friday Nights.
Thank you Moms!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
truland72
09-16-2010
Great thread, great posts. My mom used to make me steak
dinners for lunch. Understand we were a poor family but still every Friday at
lunch I’d come home from school and it would be there, steak and tators.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Coke72
09-16-2010
(This is another of my stories that I shared on the thread.)
While in College at Capital, one spring I caught some nasty
bug and was down and out for about a week. Once it ran its course, I still
couldn't get back on my feet, so to speak, on cafeteria food. Just still didn't
feel right. 100 miles from home with little money, not much I could do.
A teammate of mine from the Columbus Area saw what was going
on and picked up the phone and left the room. Came back in a minute later, said
grab your coat and wouldn't tell me where we were going. About 20 min later, we
pulled into his Mom and Dad's driveway. We walked in the house and his Mom had
whipped up two big steaks, potatoes and veggies. I felt like a million bucks
after that.
Thanks Doghead for seeing what I needed. Thanks Mrs.
Lombardi for that awesome meal and God Bless you and your family. In the early
90's, I attended her funeral. Heaven gained one heck of a lady.
I will also never forget the trip to Shadyside with another
teammate. John’s Mom fed us like kings
from the moment we walked in the door and filled our arms when we left to head
back to Columbus. The Goulash she made
was tremendous to say the least. Thank
You Mrs Haswell!!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
JATeufelHunden
09-17-2010
Awesome Thread by the way.
Coke, sorry for the loss of your mother.
I don’t know if I have any specific stories really but my
mom was at every game regardless, that was from pee-wee through HS. In HS after
every game when I came home she always had either potato soup, chili, or vegetable
beef soup waiting which as you all know was amazing after a chilly late Sept.
or Oct. game in Ohio .
She was for sure my biggest supporter and biggest fan coming to every game ringing
a big cow bell from the time the team stepped on the field until the final whistle
blew. She was there rain or shine and blowing snow ringing that bell. Even when
I started coaching she was there, every game I coached she was there in true
form ringing her bell cheering for kids she never knew just because her son was
involved in the team.
Good luck to everyone's team this year!!
Thank you to all the mothers who braved Ohio Falls
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I believe that last post sums it up pretty well.
To our Beloved Moms of Fall…..
Dirty pants and jersey’s
torn,
Mom scrubs them up and
sews with pride
Snacks and meals always
around
Mom takes care of her
boy of fall
She wears your button,
brings her bell
Carry’s blankets,
scarves and fights the cold
You hear her voice,
above the throng
Cheering on her boy of
fall
(Chorus:)
Well it's turn and
face the Stars and Stripes/
It's fighting back
them butterflies/
It's call it in the
air, alright yes sir we want the ball/
And it's knocking
heads and talking trash/
It's slinging mud and
dirt and grass/
It's I got your
number, I got your back when your back's against the wall/
Knowing that for our Mom’s, we’ll give our all
We’re the Boys of Fall….Friday, September 2, 2016
North of the Border Football
So, I found myself in Canada for work. The assignment brought me to Leduc, Alberta
in the western half of Canada to be more precise. Pronounced Leh-Duke, the village is located approx. 35 km south of the heart
of Edmonton.
Being the curious sort, I looked around the wide sweeping
plains of Alberta for something to do for entertainment. Being of a football state of mind, I checked
the schedule for the Edmonton Eskimos of the Canadian Football League. (If you say it in your best Chris Berman
dramatic voice, it is kind of fun.)
Lucky me, they were playing the Montreal Alouettes, on
Thursday night! Just in time before my
flight home on Friday. To add to the
benefit, I found the Canadian Brewhouse restaurant in Leduc offered a ticket
for $25 CAD (Canadian Dollars) including a free bus ride to and from the game. Score!!!!
Following dinner and a couple choice beverages at the
Brewhouse, I went to board the bus. Let
me rephrase, I went to board the school bus to the game. I was big time, seat to myself!! Only one person commented on my Cincinnati
Bengals shirt, and that was to talk about team founder Paul Brown. No harassment for my allegiance, life is
good.
We arrived at the stadium after a harrowing ride through the
streets of Edmonton. It seems that
highways end at the edge of the city and from there is it city streets as we
made our way.
Upon arrival, things are about the same as football in the
US. Stadium, gates, team gear stand to
get a hat for my and to pay my good buddy @MikeTodd614 as payment for some
awesome vinyl albums he donated to my collection. (I consider myself a curator of music on
vinyl now.) Of course, there would have
to be a visit to a beverage stand before climbing up to my seats. Of course.
The game is underway, here we go, good crowd on hand, which
I could see most of them from my seat in the upper half of the upper bowl.
And then it happened, I started to notice some subtle
differences in the game. Like, someone
put an extra line on the field and forgot to put in the back line of the end
zone. And then the goal post is in the
front of the end zone, was this an NFL films replay from the 50’s? Holy Cow!
Someone could get hurt.
I start to shout out to get a penalty for all the offensive players moving
before the snap but no one else seemed to care. They just looked my way concerned about my
calling out, “PROCEDURE!!!” What in the
name of Curly Lambeau is going on here??
The crowd cheered wildly when the Eskimos went for it on
third down early in the game. I said, it
was about time, both teams kept punting on third down? What was up with that? I didn’t see either team go for it on fourth
down at all. No guts, no glory I
say.
Just when I thought I had things figured out and the Eskimos
were driving for the first score of the game.
The running back was heading for the pylon when the unthinkable
happened, FUMBLE!! No worries it is head
for the sidelines, it went out of bounds before Montreal got a handle on
it.
Then the official awards the ball to Montreal because they
touched it before it went out of bounds.
Touched it! No control, just
touch it. Now I am confused again.
Settle in, if the Eskimos D can man up, they
may come out with good field position.
The Esks D holds!!
Yes ‘Esks.’ That is what the faithful call their beloved Eskimos. The D only gave up a couple yards so the
Alouette punter is kicking from his own end zone. Edmonton should get good field position. Here’s the snap, the punter has the ball and
holds it, and runs around a bit and then out the back of the elongated end
zone!?!?!?! It’s the first quarter, why
take a safety already?? 2 - 0 the home
team is winning!!!
Did I mention the end zones are huge? Can the goal post be used for a pick
play? I am being told yes.
As with most football games, a red challenge flag is thrown,
wait the ref is calling a penalty. Then
the sideline throws a yellow flag, the coach is challenging the call by the
officials. So they call penalties with
challenge flags and challenge the call on the field with a penalty flag. I need a rule book please. Where am I?
Canada? Oh, wait…
It seems with a yellow challenge flag, the coach can call
for another look to see if roughing the passer occurred? It was confirmed, First Down Eskimos!!! One for the home team!
During the game, the in game entertainment was good. They had some good music in their playlist
but then they rose to the top of the charts when they queued up Shot Down in Flames by AC/DC. A great song, from one of my favorite bands
and a track from one of the best albums of all time. This game up north just got a little
better.
As the game went on, I did notice that the PA announcer took
just a little bit of latitude in his content.
After one errant pass by the Montreal quarterback, the announcer noted
that he threw it at the receiver’s shoes.
It must be okay to speculate on penalties, as it ‘may’ be a personal
foul and he really got excited on first downs.
For anyone in the OCC whose team has played at Lancaster, you know what I am talking
about.
As I pondered the PA behavior, they fired up my jam, Party Up by DMX. “This
games gonna make me lose my mind, Up North in Here, Up North in Here!!” Or something like that.
During a timeout, I noticed the cheerleader squad on the
sideline. While the NFL cheer squads
have become more dance oriented, these cheerleaders performed cheers and
stunts. This squad had more in common
with a college squad from south of the international border.
But this squad literally had the big gun.
A T-shirt cannon with 8 barrels which launched projectiles into the
crowd at a rapid pace. It operated like
a Gatling gun from the old west. Nothing
spreads excitement in the stadium like a multi barreled T shirt cannon. Advantage CFL!
As the first half ended, I noticed that the referee twirls
his red flag over his head like a wannabe Steelers fan. I wonder who thought that one up. Perhaps that idea resulted in a bonus?
As the game progressed in the second half, the Eskimos
fumble on the goal line again. Agony for
the home crowd! The defense saves the
day and holds the Alouettes to a 2 and out!
I am starting to get the hang of this CFL lingo. You bet I am.
But strategy is another thing.
Down by 2, punting from their own end zone, Montreal takes
another safety!!!! Sweet Fancy
Moses!!! Eskimos up by 4, the game took
on a new turn. Eskimos 13 Alouettes 9 at
the end of the third quarter.
I spent the second half sitting with a group of season
ticket holders, one of which was a co-worker for the past week. Colby, Gordon, Brett, Katie, Scott and
Michelle were great hosts. Brett and
Scott both appreciated my Bengals shirt as they are fans of Andy Dalton. More specifically fans of the ginger QB in
the NFL as they have similar hair coloring.
Whatever it takes to put a few more folks in Andy’s corner is fine with
me. Who
Dey!! The group also helped me sing
the Eskimos fight song at the end of the third quarter. Fun stuff.
It’s a good thing I sat with them because Colby helped me
out with this next one. The Alouettes
were forced to punt at a critical juncture in the fourth quarter. Apparently, the CFL has no fair catch rule on
punts. As the Eskimos returner fielded
the ball and was tackled immediately.
Colby jumped up and started yelling, “No Yards!!! No Yards!!! Yes!!!” I said, “Colby, why are you so excited, we
wanted him to gain yards, didn’t we??”
Then I received my education on the ‘No Yards’ rule. Similar to the Halo Rule, the gunner didn’t
give the returning a buffer of 5 yards!
15 yard penalty, First down Eskimos!!!
Woo Hoo!! Molson Canadians all
around!!
Getting down within three minutes it was a tight ball game,
I learned that the ‘Command Center’ would review any questionable plays versus
the coaches challenging the call. The
‘Command Center,’ that sounds serious.
These guys mean business inside of three minutes. The clock even stops for first downs. No Tick Tick Tick Tick. Sorry Chris Berman.
Edmonton answers the Montreal field goal from early in the
fourth quarter with one of their own to put the lead back to 4 points at 16 –
12.
Following the kick off, Montreal ran off six plays before a Kevin
Glenn pass was intercepted by Eskimo J.C. Sherritt at the Eskimo 25 yard
line. EUPHORIA!!!! Sherritt returned the ball 79 yards and then
had the ball hacked out of his arms, AGONY!!!!
Montreal recovers and are scrambling to get a score with 1:05 left to
go.
After an incomplete pass, Glenn dropped back again for the
Alouettes. Deon Lacey of the Eskimos
intercepts and returns it for a pick six to seal the game!! Eskimo Mania!!!!
With the extra point, the Eskimos put it away 23 – 12!!
ESK!! ESKS!!! ESKS!!!!
I made my way back to the bus parking zone and amidst the
sea of school buses, managed to find the one with the tag for Leduc in the
window. On the ride back, I pondered the
evening.
Some of the rules may have been different, but the game is
essentially the same. It was a beautiful
night, the crowd was charged, people were having fun, cheering on the home
team.
It was Football, and it was good.
The Eskimo Fight Song
We’re cheering fight, fight, fight on Eskimos
We’re marching right, right, right on Eskimos
We’re charging down the field for all to see
And shouting rah, rah, rah, fight on to victory
We’re fighting on ‘til every game is won
The green and gold is bold and when we’re done
We’ll tell the world we’re proud of Edmonton
And the Edmonton Eskimos.
Eskimos Fight Song
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Are You Going to the Bus Stop?
The last week in April led up to my son Jacob's graduation from the University of Cincinnati.
Our first child, graduating from college. It still hasn't really sunk in yet.
One of those moments in time that you never really thought would get there. When you thought about it, you tried to picture what life would be like at that moment, what you and your wife would look like in the moment. Thankfully, we didn't turn out to be as old and gray as I thought we may be. Face it, when you are twenty or thirty something, 50 seemed light years away. Or less than 50 in Kelly's case.
The reality of college graduation seemed so far off, even at the point of high school graduation. I mean, 4 years ago, who would have thunk it?? (..... yes, you read correctly, he finished his degree in 4 years!!! So proud!)
I took the day prior to graduation off from work to get some things done in the morning. We were leaving early in the afternoon for a dinner event with Jacob in Cincinnati. So when I got up on Friday morning, the house was quiet and I began to think about things, you know the big picture that was becoming clearer as this milestone event approached.
Then the picture reminded me it was trash day and I hadn't taken the cans down to the street. After collecting the trash throughout the house, I proceeded to take the can and the recycling bin down to the curb on this damp and chilly April morning. Wearing shorts and slides along a sweatshirt, it is Ohio of course. To complete the 'day off' ensemble, a ball cap. Suburb chic I like to call it.
I thought I had heard a truck while I was in the house and hoped that the recycling hadn't already been picked up. So I walked towards the neighbors driveway, to see if their bin was empty or full. Still full, didn't miss it, good to go. I walked about 20 feet down the street towards my house, ready to go back to my coffee and chase away the chill, when I heard it.... a little voice called out,
"Hi Joe!"
Busted!! Caught red handed checking the status of the recycling....
Slowly I turned, there he stood, at the top of his driveway, bag of Goldfish Crackers in his hands, the red haired 4 year old boy from next door. We'll call him M.
Trying to play off my sneaky bin check, I responded, "Good Morning M. What's going on?"
"Nothing." M replied. Followed quickly by a very poignant question, "Are you going to the Bus Stop?"
As M asked, his Mom and first grade sister R, came down the porch steps from the house.
Now R, being the good big sister that she is, taught M how to say 'Hi Joe!' whenever they see me. I have heard it many times, sometime several times a day or even several times within an hour, and I answer every time. I look forward to it, like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. I am hopeful that if I continue to respond cheerfully, I can avoid curmudgeon status in the neighborhood.
Since M was a couple of years younger and a little on the shy side when they moved in next door, it took a little time before he would belt it out like he did on this fine morning. Then to add this very important question.
"Are you going to the bus stop?" A simple question from M, but it held a big meaning in my melancholy state of mind that morning.
"Of course I am going to the bus stop!" I informed M. Since it had been quite awhile since I was 'needed' to walk to the bus stop, I felt it was more than appropriate to do so by choice this fine morning.
You see my daughter, our youngest, just finished her freshmen year at The Ohio State University, so you can say it has been some time since my last walk to the bus stop.
Off we went, moderate pace, R leading the way, Mom and I talking about this and that, M sauntering along snacking on the Goldfish crackers, offering his observations on the scene, filling me in on the bus stop protocol if you will. M introduced me to some of the other kids, then ran off in an impromptu footrace as the first graders hung out at the corner, you know, playing it cool.
The neighbors, who knew I really had no need to be at the bus stop welcomed me with a laugh.
It had been awhile, going to the bus stop, quite the social event I must say. After a suspense filled five minutes of chaos and anticipation, the school bus arrived and the kids loaded up. We waved, said our goodbyes and advised the kids to have, 'A Great Day at School.'
I turned for the journey back home as some of the other parents stayed to talk. Mom, M and I started back down the sidewalk to our little section of the street. The crunch of Goldfish crackers breaking the post bus stop silence. (ok, we were talking but that sounded more dramatic, just go with it.)
I looked down and saw a worm on the sidewalk. I called to M, who was walking out in front of us, setting the pace. M returned to inspect the worm.
Mom asked M, if he wanted to save the worm. M quickly agreed that this was the best course of action and picked up the worm and placed him in the cool comfort of the grass.
To insure the worm was well nourished, M reached into his bag of Goldfish crackers and placed one next to the worm for nourishment. Of course M used the same hand he used to pick up the worm, so the cracker would have the appropriate worm scent and thus subsequently accepted by the worm. Such a smart lad!
Soon we arrived back at M's driveway, and the journey to the Bus Stop came to an end. Quite an eventful journey at that.
Looking down at M, I could see the little boy that would walk across the University of Cincinnati Stage the next day.
Although not quite so small anymore and ready to start a job on the next Monday versus saving worms. Everything he wants is in front of him, his goals are set and he is off to storm the tower, as he did so many times, charging up the hill in our front yard. 'To the Keep!' he would yell if the tide of battle would turn. Regroup and ride out to win the day! He is ready.
Are you going to the bus stop?
Of course, every chance I get.
Our first child, graduating from college. It still hasn't really sunk in yet.
One of those moments in time that you never really thought would get there. When you thought about it, you tried to picture what life would be like at that moment, what you and your wife would look like in the moment. Thankfully, we didn't turn out to be as old and gray as I thought we may be. Face it, when you are twenty or thirty something, 50 seemed light years away. Or less than 50 in Kelly's case.
The reality of college graduation seemed so far off, even at the point of high school graduation. I mean, 4 years ago, who would have thunk it?? (..... yes, you read correctly, he finished his degree in 4 years!!! So proud!)
I took the day prior to graduation off from work to get some things done in the morning. We were leaving early in the afternoon for a dinner event with Jacob in Cincinnati. So when I got up on Friday morning, the house was quiet and I began to think about things, you know the big picture that was becoming clearer as this milestone event approached.
Then the picture reminded me it was trash day and I hadn't taken the cans down to the street. After collecting the trash throughout the house, I proceeded to take the can and the recycling bin down to the curb on this damp and chilly April morning. Wearing shorts and slides along a sweatshirt, it is Ohio of course. To complete the 'day off' ensemble, a ball cap. Suburb chic I like to call it.
I thought I had heard a truck while I was in the house and hoped that the recycling hadn't already been picked up. So I walked towards the neighbors driveway, to see if their bin was empty or full. Still full, didn't miss it, good to go. I walked about 20 feet down the street towards my house, ready to go back to my coffee and chase away the chill, when I heard it.... a little voice called out,
"Hi Joe!"
Busted!! Caught red handed checking the status of the recycling....
Slowly I turned, there he stood, at the top of his driveway, bag of Goldfish Crackers in his hands, the red haired 4 year old boy from next door. We'll call him M.
Trying to play off my sneaky bin check, I responded, "Good Morning M. What's going on?"
"Nothing." M replied. Followed quickly by a very poignant question, "Are you going to the Bus Stop?"
As M asked, his Mom and first grade sister R, came down the porch steps from the house.
Now R, being the good big sister that she is, taught M how to say 'Hi Joe!' whenever they see me. I have heard it many times, sometime several times a day or even several times within an hour, and I answer every time. I look forward to it, like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. I am hopeful that if I continue to respond cheerfully, I can avoid curmudgeon status in the neighborhood.
Since M was a couple of years younger and a little on the shy side when they moved in next door, it took a little time before he would belt it out like he did on this fine morning. Then to add this very important question.
"Are you going to the bus stop?" A simple question from M, but it held a big meaning in my melancholy state of mind that morning.
"Of course I am going to the bus stop!" I informed M. Since it had been quite awhile since I was 'needed' to walk to the bus stop, I felt it was more than appropriate to do so by choice this fine morning.
You see my daughter, our youngest, just finished her freshmen year at The Ohio State University, so you can say it has been some time since my last walk to the bus stop.
Off we went, moderate pace, R leading the way, Mom and I talking about this and that, M sauntering along snacking on the Goldfish crackers, offering his observations on the scene, filling me in on the bus stop protocol if you will. M introduced me to some of the other kids, then ran off in an impromptu footrace as the first graders hung out at the corner, you know, playing it cool.
The neighbors, who knew I really had no need to be at the bus stop welcomed me with a laugh.
It had been awhile, going to the bus stop, quite the social event I must say. After a suspense filled five minutes of chaos and anticipation, the school bus arrived and the kids loaded up. We waved, said our goodbyes and advised the kids to have, 'A Great Day at School.'
I turned for the journey back home as some of the other parents stayed to talk. Mom, M and I started back down the sidewalk to our little section of the street. The crunch of Goldfish crackers breaking the post bus stop silence. (ok, we were talking but that sounded more dramatic, just go with it.)
I looked down and saw a worm on the sidewalk. I called to M, who was walking out in front of us, setting the pace. M returned to inspect the worm.
Mom asked M, if he wanted to save the worm. M quickly agreed that this was the best course of action and picked up the worm and placed him in the cool comfort of the grass.
To insure the worm was well nourished, M reached into his bag of Goldfish crackers and placed one next to the worm for nourishment. Of course M used the same hand he used to pick up the worm, so the cracker would have the appropriate worm scent and thus subsequently accepted by the worm. Such a smart lad!
Soon we arrived back at M's driveway, and the journey to the Bus Stop came to an end. Quite an eventful journey at that.
Looking down at M, I could see the little boy that would walk across the University of Cincinnati Stage the next day.
Although not quite so small anymore and ready to start a job on the next Monday versus saving worms. Everything he wants is in front of him, his goals are set and he is off to storm the tower, as he did so many times, charging up the hill in our front yard. 'To the Keep!' he would yell if the tide of battle would turn. Regroup and ride out to win the day! He is ready.
Are you going to the bus stop?
Of course, every chance I get.
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