Willie Mays makes The Catch in the 1954 World Series
In his magnificent book “The Baseball 100,” author Joe Posnanski ranks Willie Mays as the top major league baseball player of all time. Better than Aaron. Better than Ruth. Better than Ted Williams.
Better than them all.
Here’s a sample of what Posnanski wrote about the Say Hey Kid:
“Who is the greatest player of all time? You know. Maybe your father told you. Maybe you read about him when you were young. Maybe you sat in the stands and saw him play. Maybe you bask in his statistics. The greatest player is the one who lifts you higher and makes you feel exactly like you did when you fell in love with this crazy game in the first place.
“The greatest player of all time is Willie Mays.”
Sure it’s Posnanski’s personal opinion, but who could argue? Mays played 23 seasons in the Major Leagues, from 1951 through 1973, but also played one season in the Negro Leagues. The list of the statistics he put together across the years is astounding.
To give his long career some perspective, I wasn’t born until 1953, and when I graduated high school in 1971, Mays was still playing.
Baseball and all of sports lost a titan this week in the death of Willie Mays at age 93.
It’s another loss of a part of my youth, which I’ve written about previously in this blog. I wasn’t old enough to be aware of Mays’ incredible back-to-the-plate catch in the 1954 World Series, but I’m pretty sure that by the time I developed an interest in baseball around the age of 8 or 9, I learned of The Catch.
Here’s a video clip that breaks down The Catch:
So we’re mourning more than just the passing of a bright star — maybe the brightest — but also the loss of another piece of our youth. Mays was a presence in box scores, sometimes on television and in baseball cards throughout my entire youth.
But it’s not just the death of Willie May that reminds me that time marches on. In the last month, the sports world has now lost three beloved giants of their sport. First was Bill Walton a couple of weeks ago, then Jerry West last week.
Time marches on, and we’re helpless to stop it.
So, the best we can do is preserve our memories, save our baseball cards and cherish our heroes who are still with us today.
When I was a kid in the mid 1960s, there was no music that captivated me like that of the Beatles. Even as a pre-teen, I couldn’t get enough of their upbeat music, harmony and hair. I listened and read everything I could about the Fab Four.
The only drawback was that I couldn’t get the lyrics down correctly from the songs I heard on Top 40 radio or their albums. But I didn’t realize it then.
For instance, I loved to sing along to “Can’t Buy Me Love,” but butchered a key line all the way into adulthood. I misheard “I don’t care too much for money” as “I don’t care to munch for money.”
I know, makes no sense. But I would hear that in my head and even sing it until it dawned on my in my 20s that I had it wrong. Boy, was I embarrassed.
There’s more. I always heard the lyric of “I can’t hide, I can’t hide” in the song “I Want to Hold Your Hand” as “I get high, I get high.” Of course, there was so much written and rumored about the Beatles and drugs that it couldn’t be anything else to me.
Finally, the most embarrassing admission of all. I loved the song “Ticket to Ride,” and played the 45 record I bought many, many times on my cheap little record player. But I sang it as “She’s got a figure to ride.” I cringe today. Must have been hormones and wishful thinking that turned the key line, which was the actual song title, into a suggestive translation.
Of course, about that time the Kingsmen had a rocking version of “Louie Louie,” in which the lyrics were all but indecipherable. But all the boys in my College Station, Texas, neighborhood couldn’t get enough. The rumor was that the song contained the Queen Mother of all bad words, and we listened and strained to hear it. There were the know-it-alls who even translated it into a version we all went crazy over.
Listen for yourself and then decide:
The song was banned in some places in the U.S., although the singing was so slurred that there was no way to know what was actually sung. Here’s a link to a post on the Rare Records website that puts it all into context.
My point of all this is that lyrics in popular music have been misheard and misinterpreted forever. The most famous may be the scene from Friends in which Phoebe sings a line from Elton John’s Tiny Dancer as “hold me closer, Tony Danza.”
I polled friends here in OKC, and got some interesting responses. My friend Steve says his wife misheard “Suicide Blonde” by INXS as “Soup and Salad Bar.” I took a listen and could see how she could mistake it.
There’s another from Steve’s (unnamed to protect her identity) wife. She misheard the title line from George Michael’s “Father Figure” as “I’ll be your butterfinger.” That’s a stretch.
Another friend I’ll identify as “Ed,” says his wife (also unnamed to protect her dignity) has a long history of misinterpreting lyrics. The best example he gave me is hearing her enthusiastically singing the title lyric from Johnny Rivers “Secret Agent Man” as “Secret Asian Man.”
Of course, neither Steve nor Ed shared any misheard lyrics from themselves. Curious.
If you Google “misheard lyrics” or ask ChatGBT to give you a list, there are dozens of examples. Manfred Man’s “Blinded by the Light.” Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” The Beach Boys “Good Vibrations.” Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer.” The list goes on an on.
It shows that we’ve all misheard lyrics from some of our favorite songs over time. Maybe we just interpreted them into what we wanted to hear.
I’m heading off to listen to “Whiter Shade of Pale” one more time so I can sing along with “She skipped a line fandango.” I mean, that’s the line, right? Right?
Whenever weather threatens OKC or western Oklahoma, our local TV stations abandon network programming and go with wall-to-wall weather coverage.
My family tunes in every time, and not just for potential life-saving information. We’re fascinated by the combination of theatrical performance, legitimate weather warnings and relentless self promotion.
“We’re declaring a News9 tornado warning for you folks in Custer County!” weatherman David Payne practically screams as he directs Val and Amy into the path of the storm.
It’s like passing a car wreck on the Interstate, you can’t NOT look at it. Everyone has their favorite/least favorite TV meteorologist. Our go-to weather Drama Queens happen to be from Channel 9.
Anyway, it seems like programming has been interrupted every other night this Spring, but I would never suggest that it’s related to climate change, would I?
As we’ve watched the powerful color-coded radar scans and learned that we’re seeing details THAT NO OTHER STATION IN OUR MARKET CAN PROVIDE, the whole scenario got me thinking back to something I wrote about two decades ago.
Today, we’re in a digital world in which we can track incoming storms on color radar not only only our television screens, but on our phones, computers and tablets. That was all just emerging in 2004 when I was a Business News reporter at The Oklahoman who embraced the digital life.
Not all of my colleagues were ready to move on from their analog past, so I wrote the following column as an ode to the great digital divide:
It is autumn 2004, and a pair of coworkers are sitting in opposite cubicles facing each other. One has his back to the window. His name is “Digital.” His co-worker goes by the moniker “Analog.”
Digital: Hey, there’s a weather alert crawling across the bottom of my computer screen!
Analog: (looking out the window over Digital’s shoulder) It looks sunny to me. There’s a little cloud to the south.
Digital: Yeah, but the color-coded radar I’m looking at on my screen shows a major thunderstorm headed this way. It’s just north of Chickasha.
Analog: I trust my eyes. I’ll worry about the weather when I look out this window and see a big black cloud.
Digital: You are so 1990s. (picks up the phone to call his wife) Hello, honey, you better monitor the weather, it’s looking rough outside. Where are the kids? Outside playing? Well, bring them in. The radar on my computer screen is showing a big storm just north of Chickasha, and it’s headed this way.
Analog: I still only see blue sky out the window.
Digital: (still speaking into phone) I don’t care if it’s sunny out, I’m telling you my radar is showing a big storm brewing just south of here. I’ll call you with further updates. Bring the kids inside! Call my cell phone when you have them rounded up (hangs phone up).
Analog: I think you are scaring your family for no reason. You should trust your eyes. Look out the window! It’s sunny.
Digital: I don’t need a window! I’m wired into the weather service right here. I can zoom in on the screen and see within a half mile where the storm is, which way it’s moving and what the temperature is. See, it’s 62 degrees outside.
Analog: I can just walk outside and get a feel for the temperature.
Digital: Then I assume you aren’t concerned about your family’s welfare. They won’t be ready for this one when it blows through town.
Analog: We have a “safe room” in our garage.
Digital: (wireless telephone rings) Hello. You’ve got the kids? Good. Now, what’s your plan for when the storm hits?
Analog: My eyes are telling me it’s still sunny outside.
Digital: (still speaking into phone) Will you have time to drive to the community shelter? Yes, I know it’s still sunny outside, but the radar shows the storm has moved closer to the metro area. Herd the kids to the hall closet if you need to. OK, love you. Bye.
Analog: Hey, I’ve got to run out on an assignment. I’ll be back this afternoon.
Digital: Well, let me have your cell phone number so I can contact you in case there’s a weather emergency or something.
Analog: I don’t have a cell phone. Never had a need for one.
Digital: (head bangs against desk; heavy sigh) I give up.
Analog: (starts to walk out of the office) Later.
Digital: (jumps up and runs after Analog) Here, take my umbrella just in case.
That’s how we rolled in 2004. It was a different era. Pre-iPhone. Pre-News9 tornado warning.
Any resemblance to actual people is mere coincidence.
I came across the obituary last week of Oklahoma City business leader Phil Scaramucci. I never met him, but his name was familiar. As I read further into his life story, I came across the name of his wife, Avis.
I don’t know Avis, either, but I know of her as the founder of the now departed Nonna’s Ristorante in Bricktown. That was in the obituary, as well.
And THAT led me to recall an event I attended at Nonna’s in 2009. It was called a “Tweetup,” one among many such events that sprang up across OKC and elsewhere in that era, which provided the opportunity to meet my new Twitter friends in real life.
The Tweetup at Nonna’s was such fun. Probably well over 100 people attended, and, as I recall, there was free food and drink. I don’t know who paid for it. Great networking opportunities.
Tweetups became such a thing that I received an invitation to attend a Tweetup at the 2009 International BIO convention that I attended on behalf of i2E and the Greater OKC Chamber.
What set Tweetups apart — and what I call Early Twitter of the late 2000s — was how positive and upbeat everyone was. Folks were eager to lift one another up, and the concept of Twitter trolls had yet to appear to spoil the fun.
Social media was emerging in importance in that era. In fact, my friend Russ Florence, President and CEO of the Consulting and PR firm Schnake Turnbo Frank, recently told me that his firm was among the first to hire a social media and digital media specialist.
I found my way onto Twitter in the Spring of 2008 at Russ’s invitation. I worked as a Business News reporter at The Oklahoman, and discovered Twitter to be an incredible fountain of information and news.
So, I jumped into the deep end and have never left.
About that same time, another phenomenon occurred with the rise of co-working spaces. The first I recall was OKC CoCo — for Coworking Collaborative — created in downtown OKC by Derrick Parkhurst.
Derrick began hosting what he called “OpenBetas” on a semi-regular basis. OpenBetas were events where anyone could pitch their innovation or new business concept. There was food and drink and a festive upbeat atmosphere.
For example, Oklahoma native and entrepreneur Noah Everett shared details of his company called Twitpic at an OpenBeta event back in those days. Twitpic was huge in early Twitter as a way to post your photos.
Oklahoman and Twitpic founder Noah Everett discusses his venture at OpenBeta in 2009.
Another friend, Dan Lovejoy, today an Enterprise Architect Expert for OG&E, also fondly recalled the era of Tweetups and OpenBetas.
“That really felt like an extension of the heyday of the blogosphere when so many people were blogging,” Dan told me. “I remember in those early days I would follow anyone from Oklahoma.
“I spoke at one of those (OpenBetas). They were fun.”
Fast forward to today’s Twitter, which is now known as “X” and owned by Elon Musk, who seems intent upon running into the ground. Many of my old Twitter friends have fled the site as the number of trolls increased exponentially and negativity is everywhere.
I’m still on Twitter (I refuse to call it “X”), if only because it remains a great source for breaking news, both local and beyond. I try my best to ignore the trolls, bots and MAGA acolytes.
But that’s where we are in 2024. Far removed from the naivety of Tweetups and OpenBetas.
So, I’m sorry for the loss of Phil Scaramucci, but I’m glad I got to read his life story in the paper. And how it reminded me of that 2009 Tweetup at Nonna’s.
Tweetups and Nonna’s are now only fond memories. Sadly, neither will ever be replaced.
Paula Stafford stands close to the television as the Thunder-Mavericks games plays ojn
Watching the televised Thunder-Dallas game with my wife this past Saturday afternoon turned out to be a personal treat for me.
Not because the Thunder won or lost (they lost).
Paula and I were both disappointed to see our Thunder lose and go down 2-1 in their NBA second round playoff series to the Mavs.
Rather, it was the rare shared experience of watching a game together and being able to see Paula’s passion for the Thunder as the game progressed.
As a fan, Paula is a Thunder veteran. She’s attended a vast majority of Thunder games in the arena since the team relocated here in 2008. This year she saw most of their home games live as she accompanied her mother to the Paycom Center.
I mostly watched from home, and saw only a handful in person.
So, we watched separately most of the time. As for televised out of town games, they are usually played at night when we are trying to wind down and get our 4 year-old grandson in bed for the night.
It’s even worse for the playoffs when start times for NBA Western Conference teams like the Thunder are at 8:30 pm or later.
So Saturday afternoon brought us together in front of the TV for a rare shared watching experience.
Paula made it fun by wearing her passion on the sleeve of her Thunder T-shirt, so to speak.
Before the game, she offered a coaching tip to Thunder coach Mark Daigneault. Send Gordon Hayward out on the court to give Luka Doncic a couple hard fouls early and protect Lu Dort from accumulating fouls.
And when the Thunder have the ball, go hard at Luka, whom she perceives as soft on defense.
Later, we both decided that Hayward wasn’t tough enough to rough up Luka, so we settled on Kenrich Williams as a good matchup.
Daigneault did not heed her coaching tip.
Still, the Thunder hung with the Mavs throughout the game, even taking the lead several times.
Paula took to barking whenever Jalen Williams — J-Dub to fans — made a great play. J-Dub started the barking trend in post-game interviews, and it has spread to fans, even those at home.
As the game progressed, Paula would call her sister or our friend Donna and break down what just happened with them or celebrate a good play. Sometimes, they called her.
She chanted “Let’s go Thunder” periodically like they do in the arena, or “Rebound Thunder!” when they needed a boost.
The phone line was hot. In fact, out of the blue, her sister, JoAnne, suggested that the Thunder put Hayward on Luka to give him some hard fouls.
Where had I heard that?
But the Thunder couldn’t hold off the Mavs in the second half, and Paula was indignant over how the game was called by the refs.
“It’s hard to win when you are having to play against both the Mavericks and the refs,” she said. “Every call has gone Luka’s way because he’s getting star treatment.”
And so it went. I enjoyed watching her reaction as much as the game itself.
When it was over, Paula called her sister and our friend Donna, and they all commiserated over the loss and the unfair star treatment Luka received. The consensus was that Luka is a drama queen. I concur.
As for me, I enjoyed Paula’s enthusiasm for the Thunder to the end of the game and beyond.
The treadmill at the fitness center is calling my name.
When it comes to physical fitness and exercise, I’ve always gone by the motto “no pain, no pain.” The decal on the back window of my car shows my preferred marathon distance: “0.0.”
Yep, I’m that guy.
But saying all that, I have made meager attempts to hit the gym in recent years. My record is spotty. I’ll hit the gym twice a week for a few weeks, then not go back for months.
In recent years, I’ve had some ongoing health issues that have been addressed by medical professionals with a stern admonishment to do some walking.
“You need to move more,” the doctor said.
Well, yeah.
I’ve got a boat load of excuses for my sedentary lifestyle in my hip pocket, but I think I’ve run out of alibis.
When I was a kid, I heard people laughing about “dunlap” disease, where their stomach had “done lapped over their belt.” Ha ha.
Well, my “front porch” has grown to the size of the White House portico. I need to be fitted for a manzier. Or is it a “bro?” I’m looking down the barrel of a Type 2 diabetes gun.
So, this week I showed up at my local fitness center for the first time since December. Twice.
And this time, I will stay after it.
I know what you are thinking. “Yeah, right.”
But it’s a promise I made to myself, and I intend to be a promise keeper.
There’s a great scene in the Pixar flick “Toy Story 3” in which Andy’s toys find themselves in the “New Toy Room” at the Sunnyside Daycare center. The toys eagerly awaited the children to arrive so they could be played with once again.
Turned out, the New Toy Room was where the youngest, loudest and most rambunctious of the Sunnyside kids played.
So, when the door opened, dozens of rowdy youngsters raced in, screaming at the top of their lungs. Within a few seconds, every one of Andy’s toys were being slammed against the floor, pulled apart or otherwise abused.
You can watch that scene below:
I’ve written all of that because last week I got to live a real life version of the Toy Story 3 scene with my 4 year-old grandson Solomon.
We visited the Leonardo’s Children’s Museum in Enid on Friday as my wife, Paula, was engaged in a conference at a nearby Enid school. Opened in 1995, Leonardo’s is located on the fringes of downtown Enid and features two floors of interactive displays geared specifically for elementary-aged children.
Leonardo’s offers displays about potential careers like plumbing, construction, energy, medicine, finance and more. Each display features a hands-on experience for visitors. There also is a two-story indoor playground and a massive 3-story tall “Castle” playground across the street.
In addition, it has a huge Thomas the Train set that kept Solomon occupied for a good 45 minutes.
Anyway, Solomon and I arrived just before the museum’s opening at 10 am. As we were walking in, I noticed a group of children getting off a school bus and entering through a different entrance.
We didn’t realize it at the time, but it was field trip day at Leonardo’s. Elementary aged students — maybe kindergarten through third grade — were waiting in an adjacent room to enter the exhibit areas.
Solomon was playing with a Lego’s exhibit when the doors burst open. Dozens of kids raced in, screaming in excitement. Within 30 seconds or so they were climbing, turning handles, pounding displays that provided tools, all while babbling loudly.
It was like deja vu all over again, because all I could see was that scene out of Toy Story 3. The decibel level was incredible.
Solomon was a little intimidated because he’s only 4, but continued to play with the Legos before we moved on.
We toured exhibits that show how oil and gas is extracted from the ground (sponsored by Koch Industries), how crops are grown across Oklahoma and displays that let you crank a generator that turns a wind turbine and actually powers a light display. Solomon even piloted an airplane on a computer game-like display.
As we waited for the elevator to take us to the second floor displays, a docent told us a bit about the museum’s history. She said it was 29 years old now, and had more than doubled the exhibit space with a multimillion dollar expansion about eight years ago that was funded by Enid-area donors.
After taking a lunch break around noon, Solomon and I returned so he could play on the outdoor playground. The young woman who served as playground gatekeeper told me that the museum staff is assisted by hundreds of volunteers who keep things going.
Solomon overcame some early playground hesitation and then joined dozens of other children climbing, sliding and exploring the upper floors of the massive Castle. When he discovered an area of the playground that featured a swimming pool-sized sandbox, it sealed the deal.
He never wanted to leave. Really.
But eventually, a teacher told the children that it was time to board the buses for the return trip to Okarche or Okeene or wherever their schools were located. Solomon was left with about a half dozen other kids, while I sat alone in the helicopter parent section.
That’s when I realized how abruptly the noise level dropped, too. So, I sat and enjoyed the quiet.
Plus, my favorite teachers are now deceased. I loved you, Judy Massey and Tom Oliver.
I’m not so big on family reunions, either, although I’m not sure why. Maybe, it’s because you have to listen to your Crazy Uncle yammer on about what’s wrong with the world?
But there is a reunion that warms my heart every time. It’s the impromptu reunion of unexpectedly running into an old colleague or friend from your past life. It can set off shouts of joy and hugs all around.
Anyway, as I was watching the honorees take the stage for a brief moment in the spotlight, I noticed a couple of photographers who were recording the event.
Although his back was to me the entire time, I recognized one of the photographers as Rip Stell, whom I knew from my tenure at i2E, Inc., here in OKC. I couldn’t miss him because he was taller than the other photographer and wearing his signature black shirt.
So, after Steve and all the other CEOs had been honored, I saw Rip sitting at a table not too far from where the Care Providers Oklahoma team was seated.
I jumped up and began walking toward Rip when he saw me and quickly jumped up himself. Rip gave me a big bear hug and then gave me a photographer’s pose with his camera to his eye while I shot my usual bad iPhone pic.
We had only a few seconds to chat, but it was a grand reunion.
The Love’s Cup was sort of a rapid-fire event, which required Rip to be ready for group and individual shots one after the other. His photos were outstanding year after year, with an eye for both the posed and the candid shot.
The Chickasaw Bricktown Ballpark scoreboard says ‘Pick the Winner’ as it shows the dots and course before the Dot Race starts.
Back in December, I published an article on this blog about the history of baseball’s Dot Race and how it was created here in OKC by Larry Newman in the early 1980s. You can read it here.
Larry was an employee of the Oklahoma City 89ers in those days, as well as working part time on the Sports desk at The Oklahoman.
That’s where my path crossed with Larry’s, because I worked on The Oklahoman’s Sports desk as a copy editor for most of the 1980s.
So, I saw the Dot Race in action on the 89ers scoreboard many times and learned that it was created by Larry. The Dot Race often created almost as much in-game excitement for the 1980s Oklahoma City baseball fans as the game itself.
After the blog post was published — and also mentioned on the 3 Old Geezers podcast, of which I am a part — the current-day Oklahoma City Baseball Club contacted Larry. He offered to re-create the original Dot Race for use during the 2024 season and the team accepted.
Larry went to work and created a perfect replica of his work from 40-plus years ago.
The OKC Baseball Cub plays as the Oklahoma City 89ers on Thursday nights, and the team decided to play the Dot Race during each “89ers” game.
That brought Larry and his family, along with me, my fellow Geezer Ed Godfrey and Ed’s son, Cade, to the ballpark this past week to watch the first 2024 Dot Race.
Dot Race creator Larry Newman and his wife, Stephanie, at the Chickasaw Bricktown Ballpark on Thursday night before the Dot Race.
To me, it looked exactly the same as the 1980s version, although maybe a little smoother with the better technology and scoreboard capabilities in 2024. It was a small crowd that witnessed the rebirth of the original Dot Race, but I could see and hear some excitement as the dots rounded the final turn for home.
Anyway, I asked Larry to share his thoughts on the whole experience. Here’s what Larry Newman had to say about going Back to the Future to watch his 1980s Dot Race in 2024:
Larry Newman’s Dot Race thoughts
“First, I was quite surprised when you contacted me this winter to learn more about the origin of the Dot Race. After all, it had been over 43 years since I did the first Dot Race and about 38 years since I had done my last one. It was an enjoyable experience meeting with you and recalling the events that occurred to set the stage for the creation of the first Dot Race.
Thoughts about seeing other teams adopt the dot race
“By nature, I spend very little time thinking about the past, so after I left the 89ers to take a technical writing position in Phoenix, AZ. in 1987, the Dot Race became a small footnote in my mind and simply a fond memory of the eight years I spent working for the 89ers at All Sports Stadium. The only time I thought about it was when I would go to a Texas Rangers game or other major league sporting event and see a Dot Race in those other venues. I got a kick out of seeing how various teams improved the race over the years, and I enjoyed watching the fans cheering on their selected dot during the races. That always brought a smile to my face.
Thoughts about how the Dot Race came back to OKC
“Fast forward to early 2024 when AJ Navarro from the Oklahoma City Baseball Club contacted me after either listening to your podcast or reading your blog about the origin of the Dot Race.
“He said they are dedicating every Thursday home game to honor the legacy of the 89ers and were doing all they could to integrate as many elements of 89ers history on these nights.
“During our conversation, I asked Mr. Navarro if he would like me to create an authentic replica of the first generation 89ers Dot Races that he could run on their video system. He was enthusiastic about the idea.
“After receiving the video resolution specifications from Mr. Navarro, I set off to create a race that would look as much like the original dot races as possible. This meant it needed to be in black and white, no color, and a little jerky. After all, creating a Dot Race in the 1980s involved creating a 400-frame black and white animation one frame at a time. It was also a bit jerky due to computer processing limitations — very crude tools compared to today. The data was also stored on audio tape—there were no reasonably affordable disk drives or rewritable flash memory in those days! So even storing each race took a bit of time.
And the winner is…!
Thoughts about the fan reaction
“During the dot race Thursday night at the Chickasaw Bricktown Ballpark, I was mostly watching the reaction of my two adult children, Matt and Haley. Matt was born in 1989, and my daughter several years later, so neither of them had ever seen a first generation Dot Race created by their dad. My kids got quite a kick out of watching the race, so I was happy. My wife (Stephanie) also came to the game, but since we were dating in the 1980’s, she had seen many of my Dot Races at All Sports Stadium.
“The general fan reaction in the ballpark was muted but better than I expected. It was evident that some of the fans either recalled the Dot Races at All Sports Stadium or enjoyed Dot Races at other venues and enthusiastically cheered for their selected dot.
“The Oklahoma City Baseball Club does such an incredible job of filling every moment between innings with great entertainment that I suspect some fans will continue to look forward to watching the Dot Races, but it will probably struggle to stand out or gain much momentum with the fans throughout the season. There are simply so many other things competing for the attention of the fans. It’s an amazing environment for baseball and elevates the fan experience far above what I have ever experienced in any other ballpark, so it’s a good trade-off.
“I plan to attend many more games this year.”
Thank, you Larry Newman, for creating the Dot Race and for sharing it with the 2024 audience. It’s a great memory for me from days long past, and I’m sure it will create some memories for today’s fans.
Even RoboNiner made a 2024 appearance at the ballpark on Dot Race night.
Instant Karma got the driver of the blue Silverado that cut us off on Penn. (not the actual vehicle)
Instant Karma’s gonna get you Going to look you right in the face Better get yourself together, darling Join the human race
How in the world you gonna see Laughing at fools like me? Who on earth d’you think you are? A superstar? Well, right you are
— Instant Karma by John Lennon
This past weekend, my wife and I were headed south on Pennsylvania Ave. toward the Quail Springs Mall area when a blue Chevy Silverado pickup suddenly changed lanes right in front of us, then raced to the light at NW 150th.
“Hey, that guy just cut us off!” my wife said with some righteous indignation.
I was right behind the Mr. Blue Pickup at the light, but what are you going to do to get some justice? Nothing but fume.
The light turned green and Mr. Blue Pickup shot off like the green flag dropped at Daytona. This is on Penn, mind you, in a very busy corridor with cars constantly turning on and off of the street.
The speed limit is 40 mph, and Mr. Blue Pickup was roaring away at least 50. We watched him racing far ahead against no one when, suddenly, the lights of a police car in the northbound lane started flashing.
As a character named Earl from an old favorite TV show of mine often said: “Karma is a bitch.”
The police car did a U-turn and pulled over Mr. Blue Pickup before it reached the next intersection.
“You don’t see that very often,” Paula said. “The guy cut us off, sped down Penn and was nailed by a cop right in front of us.”
I resisted the temptation to pull into the parking lot where the cop was just getting out of his car so I could wave and smile at Mr. Blue Pickup.
Besides, there’s always the chance that Instant Karma would bite me, as well.
But it was a satisfying ending, so I will treat you to John Lennon’s Instant Karma.
“That really felt like an extension of the heyday of the blogosphere when so many people were blogging,” Dan told me. “I remember in those early days I would follow anyone from Oklahoma.
Jim Stafford's BlogOKC 