My nephew who is hiking the Pacific Crest Trail and his comely co-hiking, trail friend recently spent five nights with us. I met them in South Lake Tahoe after they had completed about 40% of the trail. After some home cooking, Santa Cruz-beach and San Francisco-city excursions, I delivered them back to the bus station . . . → Read More: Trekkers Passing Through
I’m not sure why I’m still a sports fan. Oh, wait, I know precisely why I’m still a sports fan. In one six-hour span Friday, the Giants completed a three-game sweep of the Dodgers with a 3-2 10th-inning walk-off victory and…AND!… the Warriors came back from a 20-point deficit (on the road) at the start . . . → Read More: Holy Cow Thursday
It’s all about how you spin it, right? Or what you name it.
Golf, I’m pleased to share, has been reclassified by some household observers from “selfish waste of six hours” into, voila, “family activity.”
This is largely — and by “largely” I mean solely — due to the interest my nine-year-old son has shown . . . → Read More: When Golf Gets Reclassified
So, our team in the less-competitive, participation-oriented local instructional youth basketball rec league is 5-0. This is our third year playing in the league for 3rd and 4th graders. By “our” I mean a group of three boys, including my son, whom I have coached and who first played in the league as 2nd graders, . . . → Read More: Getting Kicks Coaching Up the Junior Set
For the last three winters — this will be the fourth — weekends have had a comforting continuity. Each Saturday — probably for an eight- to ten-week stretch — our day would take shape around a youth-league basketball game. For three straight seasons, I was fortunate to coach my son and daughter on the same . . . → Read More: The Seasons of Basketball
Depending on your portal of hype, forecasts are, varyingly, calling for 2.5″, five inches or possibly eight inches of rain in the coastal mountains. People are passing along information on sandbags and there’s talk of flash floods in creeks, on roads and down watersheds.
Having lived so far through only one epic rainy season . . . → Read More: The Mountain Rain Event
Here’s the craziest part — okay, there are a lot of crazy parts — but it’s also one of the great things about baseball. Each position has its competencies. You play third base, you have to know how to charge the slow roller up the line, barehand it and make the snap side-arm, off-balance under-your-bent-over-chest . . . → Read More: The No-Panic, Joe-Panik Flip
“How frustrating it must be to pitch to Pablo Sandoval,” — Tom Verducci, during game 5 of the 2014 World Series.
Only if you’re cheering for the Royals.
What a bunch of knuckleheads!
Here I’m referring to the Joe Buck-Harold Reynolds-Tom Verducci trio handling the World Series broadcast for Fox.
Buck, I think, has arrived . . . → Read More: Gilded Voices, Tin Ears
Humble, I’m okay with humble. I like humble.
I don’t mind when the golf shop is a double wide, or the screen door slams (okay, I mind a little when it slams on my backswing), or the spartan premises of the not-so-lavishly appointed muni or daily fee golf course don’t offer logoed caps and shirts.
. . . → Read More: Garrettstown at Ballinspittle