The Social Hour at Trinity Terrace: a history

          From humble beginnings, the Social Hour has grown into one of the best-attended, most-anticipated weekly events at Trinity Terrace.

      It began in 2008, and it was Martha Taylor's idea. Also credit Bill Starz for the start. (That's a tease; read below for the details).

      Whether the setting is Thursday-at-4 p.m. in the Longhorn Auditorium or the occasional evening venture outside on the terrace area, there are programs that draw up to 200 or so residents.

Trinity Terrace's ukulele players and singers

      Guests attend, too, especially when the "world-famous Trinity Terrace Ukulele Philharmonic Orchestra, Chorus, Marching Society and Drill Team" -- that's director Ken Knight's tongue-in-cheek description -- is featured (four times a year). 

      The uke group, which has grown from a dozen to some 40-plus residents, has been in existence since January 2010 and from its start a part of Social Hour. And it now usually draws a more-than-capacity crowd. So much so that two concerts -- Wednesday and Thursday -- are a new schedule feature.      

      Another great attraction: Resident Services director Behka Hartmann's program of songs ... be it jazz, classic or popular tunes and -- as in 2022 -- Christmas favorites. 

      Her annual program in late May, outside on a nice evening, has been tied to a meal for residents, sponsored and served in the past two years by home-care companies. 

      Since its very beginning, musical programs have been the core of the Social Hour schedule, and the main focus of those doing the scheduling.

      Bill Starz was the first Social Hour committee chairman, and the longest-serving: six years (2008-13). He was followed by Charles Kelley for a year (2014), Rev. Bill Gould for three years (2015-17), Ken Knight for two (2018-19) and currently Nico Van Thyn for four years (2020-23).

    There were two pandemic-forced interruptions -- four days short of one year, March 2020 to April 1, 2021, and then another eight weeks (last week of 2021, first seven of 2022).

     Lonely times at Trinity Terrace, right?

---

     Many programs feature speakers -- book authors, newspaper people, Fort Worth notables, residents sharing their travel adventures, medical experts, etc.

     Some have attracted full-house audiences, such as then-mayor Betsy Price and most recently Tarrant County Sheriff Bill Waybourn. Most memorably, in 2017, there was then-new resident Dr. Bobby Brown -- New York Yankees star-turned-Fort Worth cardiologist who went overtime sharing his wealth of humorous stories. 

      Back to music: There are a dozen "regulars" audiences appreciate -- such as resident classical pianist Patrick Stanford; songs by Lisa Garrett, the aforementioned Ken Knight, Nancy and Gregg Froman, and Bob McClendon;  piano-and-trumpet by Debbie and Ken Cockerham; piano duos (Nancy and Bruce Muskrat, Doris Gameiro and Jose Cubela), piano entertainer Buddy Bray, piano/music historian Beverly Howard (a resident), the "Warmin'  Up team (Morgan Sullivan and Jim Duff), TCU students (with vocals and wind instruments), the Camp Meeting Boys group (with yodeler Devin Dawson); and the always reliable Texas Winds Outreach programs.

      Give a huge assist for at least 10 programs in 2023 to the Trinity Terrace Foundation, which provided $2,500 to pay for music and speakers. That meant -- in many people's opinion -- a boost in program quality.

      It gave the Social Hour a budget, an unprecedented development. Previously, when payment was requested, funds were drawn -- occasionally -- from the Resident Services department.

Paschal High School's mariachi group, 2022

      Resident Services also has tied several events to the Social Hour -- Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Cinco de Mayo (which in the past two years has featured high school mariachi groups from Paschal and Northside), Octoberfest, Halloween, Christmas, New Year's Eve. Next year, too: Christmas in July.

     Another goal in scheduling is to have residents do the program. They have done at least a dozen almost every year; in some of the early Social Hour years as many as 20.

     And Trinity Terrace staffers have been the performers, too. Once upon a time, the omnipresent Alex Smith -- now the events setup coordinator, but younger then -- sang Al Green tunes ("I wowed them ... I was good," he said, laughing at the recall.) 

      A decade ago, it was Bobby Davis (director of facility services) playing guitar alongside his teacher, our house painter Arjan Golemi (the Greek native). (Bobby since has switched to drums, and plays for his church worship group.)  

      And coming in November, five staffers -- Dining Services workers Kristian Thomas, Jaelon Wingham and Emily Gonzalez, weekend security guard Jacob Montgomery, and package-deliver specialist Emmanual Ogunyomi -- will perform a program of "scenes" and music.

      For a third year in a row, there will be a "Resident Roundtable" -- four residents covering their life stories -- on November 9.

A cooking demonstration: Dr. Loanne
 Chiu and chef Leon  Rivera III, 2022

    One more "in-house" program in the planning: Remember a year ago the cooking demonstration by resident Dr. Loanne Chiu and chef Leon Rivera III (with cookies by Diane Kessler). On the prospective 2024 schedule, February 1: a "cakes-cookies-pies" program featuring Elm Fork pastry chef Carol McFarland, with short segments by residents JoAnn Johnson, Jim Barker, Pat Adams and Diane Kessler (again). Plus, treats for the audience.

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      About those humble beginnings, and Martha Taylor. She is now the matriarch of Trinity Terrace. In 2008, she was a spy, energetic 90-year-old with a plan: a weekly gathering of residents for music and -- yes -- drinks, a social gathering.

Martha Taylor

     She took her idea to Bill Starz, who agreed to be the first chairman. And he could play harmonica, which he often did in the first few years of Social Hour.

      Their first meeting drew about eight people and was held in a room that no longer exists -- near the Elm Fork dining room on the Terrace Tower's main floor (the expanded library and mail area are there now).

     Word got around and the weekly attendance grew, and soon it was time to move to the bigger Worth Lounge.

     The name went from Happy Hour to Sundowners -- neither acceptable -- and then Social Hour was a fit.

      More music, more drinks, more people, and Bill Starz went to then-executive director Lee Patterson to ask if the Longhorn Auditorium could be used for Social Hour.

     The answer was yes, and Social Hour had a permanent home. 

     Martha Taylor taught herself to play piano, and she was the Social Hour program on several occasions. And much appreciated.

       "Someone would call sick at the last minute, or unable to come for another reason," recalled Bill Gould of his time as chairman, "and Martha would say, 'I can do the program.'

    "She could tear it up," Bill added. "She played ragtime. Couldn't read music, but she could play by feel, and people loved it. ... She would get after it."

     Also, he said, "She is one of the sweetest, most enjoyable, pleasant people to be with. ... She would play piano in her apartment with the door open, and her neighbors loved it."

      Another hero was resident Judy Norman, who was on the Social Hour committee and, said Bill, "saved my bacon a couple of times" by creating programs -- poetry reading, play acting, the "Goofy Geezers" comedy (?) troupe. She remains a help with program suggestions.

      Originally, the Social Hour plan was to have a program for some 25-30 minutes, then let people visit (drink) ... socialize. Bill Gould, as scheduler, found it increasingly difficult to bring in musical guests and limit them to a half hour. So gradually -- and continuing with Ken Knight as chairman -- the programs grew to 40-45 minutes (or more).

     Ken, who had begun visiting for Social Hour before he and Richard Morehead moved in as residents in August 2017, felt that not having a budget for Social Hour was a "major concern," and scheduling was "a constant, ongoing stressor." 

     But in one of his two years in charge, Ken lined up 40 musical programs (in 51 weeks). His first guest: classical guitarist Dr. Will Douglas, a program regular.

     "I got lots of tremendous feedback [from residents]," Ken said. "People thought I was walking on water. We were fortunate to have some good musical talent come in."

      With his leadership, the ukulele/vocal group has grown to the enthusiastic 40-plus.

      Currently, suggestions for programs are always welcomed, and usually followed up. With the help of Resident Services and the Trinity Terrace Foundation, programming will continue to be impressive.

     Humble beginnings to a weekly attraction. Who knows, we might get another Alex Smith sing-along or a Thai cooking demonstration by Sithichart Phatanapirom (our "Bob"). 

     Come to Social Hour, and check it out.

On this date 77 years ago ...

     On October 14, 1946, Rozette Lopes Dias -- then with the last name Lazer -- married Louis Van Thyn in war-weary Amsterdam.

    We are still grateful 77 years later.

The wedding photo: 1946

    Who knew on that day -- a Monday and a trip to City Hall for the wedding ceremony -- how long their lives would go, and how far they would travel.

     They'd known each other for little more than a year. And they had been through so much in the previous half-dozen years, some horrific experiences -- certainly not of their choosing.

     They each had lost so much, and they had precious little family remaining.

     So, who knows how deep their love was then. But they knew they needed each other.

      Their stories -- their combined story -- has a beautiful ending, of course: Almost 62 years of marriage, the last 51-plus in two homes they owned.

       And such good fortune: Two children they never expected -- me and my younger sister Elsa --  and from that, five grandchildren. From there, to the present-day nine great-grandchildren (but only a couple born while Louis and Rose still lived).

       Plus, a journey of almost 5,000 miles and two weeks from the wonderful place where they grew up (Hup Holland!) to the country  where Mom always dreamed of living, the result of how well American military personnel treated her and other women Holocaust survivors upon rescue in early 1945.

      And what culture shock -- from a busy center of a million people to a state and city of which they'd never heard (Louisiana? Shreveport?).

    They could not have known, did not know, how accepting, how helpful, those people in Shreveport would be. First, the Jewish community, but soon far beyond that, from all over. 

      It was a perfect fit, certainly moreso than it could have been in, say, the New York City melting pot of millions.           

      In 1 1/2 years, they were home owners. In five years, they became U.S. citizens ... and darned proud of it.

      Parts of their hearts, though, was with the few family members and many friends they left behind in The Netherlands. And also with the friends -- and eventually some family -- in Israel, the Jewish-dominated state created in 1948.

       That included the very couple that had introduced them to each other in the summer of 1945. Those two people were the only married couple housed -- in an attic room -- at the former factory converted into a safe shelter for women Holocaust survivors who had returned to Amsterdam.

     The man knew Dad from boyhood days in Amsterdam. The woman was Mom's best friend at Auschwitz; they had been in elementary school together and had reunited while standing in line after they got out of the cattle-car transport to the concentration camp.

     After they survived the Holocaust, that couple moved to Israel, specifically to Narahija.

      Which brings us to today, to this past week and Hamas' invasion of Israel. 

       Because -- as I've been asked repeatedly this week -- we do have distant connections in Israel.

      That couple's granddaughter is now on active duty with the Israel military.

      A grandson and granddaughter of Mom's favorite first cousin (Maurits) in Amsterdam, and the granddaughter's husband (a tank driver) are reservists called to active duty. 

      Maurits' son married an Israeli girl; they live in Jerusalem. And Maurits' daughter, who lives in Antwerp, Belgium, has four children living in Israel, but -- because they are Belgian citizens -- none are in the service. 

     (Maurits' children are our second cousins, once removed. At least, that's the best we can figure.)

---  

      Can tell you this: Grateful that Mom and Dad are not around to endure this latest invasion of Israel. They would have been extremely concerned.

      Because that's how they were in 1967 (the "Six-Day War" and 1973 (the Yom Kippur War) when Arab military forces invaded Israel.

       Television news then wasn't 24-7 -- Shreveport had only three TV stations and three networks -- but Mom watched (and worried) every report. Dad was working at the pipeyard, but I know he and the people there were paying attention.

       I think about this now because we've had the news on constantly here. 

      Thought about writing about baseball -- how much I've watched this Texas Rangers' season -- or football (LSU, Louisiana Tech and the Dallas Cowboys are always topics of interest in this apartment). 

      Wanted to say how good the Rangers have been and how good it feels for their fans. Same for the Houston Astros and their Yankees-like dynasty of the past seven years.

       But writing about athletics just didn't seem right this week. (Maybe if a certain team had recaptured its glory of so many decades I might be more involved, but that hasn't happened in 14 seasons. So there.)

        No, there is sadness here for all those deaths and injured in Israel, in Gaza. Not only the Jewish people, but the thousands of innocent Palestinians. They, too, are victims of Hamas, and Israel's penchant -- determination -- for revenge.

       No winners in this. None. No end in sight.

       Sad.

       And when I heard on TV someone say that "people died just because they were Jewish," I thought, yes, that's how it was for our grandparents, uncles and aunts, Mom and Dad's first spouses, plus their many uncles, aunts and cousins.

      Even through many good times, Mom and Dad never forgot. Nor do we ever forget, and we shouldn't.

      We want Israel to survive and thrive. But we, too, want the Palestinians to have peace and good times.

      We are for peace, period.

      I know those two people who took those wedding vows -- who committed to each other -- on October 14, 1946, would approve of that.

      They were blessed, and so were we. We wish the same for millions of others.          

          

A hectic first night at the Star-Telegram

    When No. 3-ranked Texas and No. 12-ranked Oklahoma -- both 5-0 and on their Big 12 farewell tour -- meet Saturday afternoon at the Cotton Bowl, it will remind me of ... 2001.

     Similar scenario, another monumental Red River Rivalry football game.

    But what I remember about 2001's meeting is not the game; it's the night before. Friday, October 5, 2001.

     My first night working at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram. One of the most memorable -- and most important -- work shifts in a five-decade career.

    It would change lives, Beatrice and me and our kids. 

    As happened far too often, I needed a job. And here was a prospective one.

    Had been in contact with the Star-Telegram sports editor, Celeste Williams, and had an advantage -- a recommendation from a friend with a Shreveport newspaper connection.

    So when Celeste invited me for a "tryout" or "audition," I made the trip from Knoxville, Tennessee -- where we'd been for six years -- through Shreveport (to see my parents) and into a city where the West begins, but where I'd rarely been.

     (Had two other job chances then, in Marshall, Texas -- only 40 miles from Shreveport and the aging Rose and Louis -- and in Orlando, Florida. But neither felt like a fit.)

      It was an unsettling time for us; let's sum it up with "personal problems." But what great fortune the trip to Fort Worth was.

       And what an unforgettable night at the Star-Telegram. I'd never seen anything like it. It was a helluva challenge.

       Worked my tail off that night (we all did); met a whole bunch of strangers, some of whom would become very good friends. Found a staff so talented and so deep (numbers-wise). 

      Had the privilege of working for a sports editor who was wise and organized and loyal, and would become a person we so loved and admired (and lost far too soon). Made our home in an area where I'd always wanted to be, and at one of the most-established newspapers in this part of the country.    

      Had interviewed with the Dallas Morning News sports department in early 1982, and had a brief dalliance with Star-Telegram sports in summer of 1995. Neither was the right time, right place.

      But this time -- early October 2001 -- was my chance. Boom!

---

      The country was in a mess, the September 11 attacks still on everyone's mind. Travel by airplane was still uncertain, so I made the long drive (11 hours to Shreveport).

The tornado-wrecked Tower

     Fort Worth had a visible scar, too -- the many shattered windows of The Tower, the 35-story building a long foul ball away from the Star-Telegram office in downtown. It had been struck by the F3 tornado a year and a half earlier; the talk was that it was going to be demolished (it wasn't). 

     My connection to the S-T was Lois Norder, a managing editor (in charge of terrorism-related coverage) and also editor of the paper's Northeast edition. In the mid-1980s, we had been at the Shreveport Journal; she was a star reporter/writer, and so was her husband, Steve. It was a wonderful time at the Journal.

      So, a Friday night in Fort Worth, and I quickly was amazed at the personnel in the sports department. More than 30 people -- four assistant sports editors, three copy "chiefs" (final proofers, approve or rewrite headlines), a Sunday-section editor, three high-school editors, nine copy editors (like me), eight page designers, three "agate" scoreboard editors ... and later a dozen parttimers to take high school call-in statistics and game details.

     (Came to learn that we had 85 fulltime people in sports, and about 40 "stringers" or parttimers. Not making this up. The Star-Telegram, in the early 2000s,  was what I called "fat" in personnel. And, yes, we were among the best sports sections in the country. The awards received in those years proved that.)

     What an operation it was, especially that night.  (Turned out, there were many nights like this.)

     What made it extra challenging was this: A Barry Bonds "special" section that was pending.

     Bonds, with 70 home runs, needed one to break  Mark McGwire's single-season record (set in 1998).  The San Francisco Giants were playing on the West Coast, and would not start until 9 p.m. our time.

    A four-page section was planned, if it happened.  

    But also there was a 16-page regular sports section, and an eight-page high school section (with three separate "zone" editions). I'd never experienced that kind of volume.

    So when I got the "duty roster," with copy-editor assignments, it was just a bit daunting. 

    Plus, a bunch of strangers around me, and yet another strange computer system to battle.

    Vince Langford was one of the sports copy desk assignment gurus, and a great help. He would become one of my best friends there (and a super talent, with words and sports knowledge). 

     He was sitting closeby, guiding me through stories.  I work quickly, so he kept giving me stories. I hadn't worked in a couple of months, so I was eager, and it was exciting.

       We were waiting on the Bonds saga, but meanwhile, here is the scope of what that night was like, how many stories we worked ...

Sports front page -- Oct. 6, 2001

      -- The Texas-OU advance pages, several stories, a position-by-position breakdown. It was the first Longhorns-Sooners game with both teams ranked in the top five in 17 years (OU was No. 3; UT No. 5); the Sooners were the defending national champion and had a 17-game winning streak, but had squeezed past Kansas State 38-37 the week before.

     -- College football advance stories ... Wendell Barnhouse's whole page of stories (he was covering Florida-at-LSU that Saturday, features (one on Tennessee wide receiver Kelley Washington, who had caught 11 passes for 256 yards against LSU the previous Saturday, a game the kids and I attended in Knoxville; Vols won 26-18. But LSU got even that December in the SEC Championship Game).

    -- It was a Texas Motor Speedway weekend -- a NASCAR Craftsman Trucks race that night, an Indy Racing League 300 on Saturday.

    -- The Dallas Stars played their first-ever regular-season game at the $46 million American Airlines Center, a 4-1 victory against Nashville. So a Jim Reeves column and several stories on the game.

     -- The Texas Rangers were playing a late game at Seattle; the Mariners had beaten them 16-1 on Thursday night (coverage in the Saturday paper). Alex Rodriguez hit his 52nd home run for the only Rangers run; Rafael Palmeiro had two of their four hits. Seattle had a spectacular 114-45 record; the Rangers were only 42 games behind them in the standings.)

   -- The Dallas Cowboys, with Dave Campo as head coach, were 0-3 and getting ready to play at Oakland, and rookie QB Quincy Carter was about to make his first start. (They lost 28-21 that Sunday.)

    -- The Dallas Mavericks were in training camp, with a young owner (Mark Cuban), an innovative head coach (Don Nelson), and three star players (Michael Finley, and two young superstars-in-the-making, Steve Nash and a 7-foot German guy who had a great shooting touch, Dirk Nowitzki.

    -- There was quarter-horse racing at Lone Star Park.

    All these elements had one or multiple stories.

     And then there was high school football. I knew what Friday nights were like in the fall, but this was a mad scramble -- game after game story to work, first-come basis.

    So, about 40 games covered, with 20 full stories to work. I remember editing a Brownwood vs. Stephenville story, not knowing how huge a rivalry that was. 

   All this, and -- while high school games are coming in -- we're watching Bonds' at-bats in San Francisco. 

     Luckily, in the first inning, he hit No. 71 off Chan Ho Park. So, the Bonds special section was in play. More work for everyone. And while we started editing that copy, Bonds hit No. 72 -- again off Park -- in the third inning. More work.

     One memory: The deadline for pages to go to print was midnight. As I recall, we finished up closer to 1 a.m. We were a bit overloaded.

---

     I sat across from a veteran sports department guy named Don Bowman. Didn't take long to realize he was funny, outrageous, knew his sports, was an extreme University of Maryland/Oakland A's/Washington baseball fan, and was talented. We lost him far too soon, too, and too suddenly.

     As it happened, the desk where I was working was Jeff Wilson's. He was helping with auto-racing coverage that night. He would become a friend, and his talent has him now covering the Texas Rangers and TCU. And one of the S-T's top sports columnists was Gil LeBreton, an old friend from LSU and New Orleans.

     One guy not working that night came in with his kid in a stroller to see his wife (who also worked at the paper). I knew his face, couldn't remember his name. Asked, and -- aha! (Andy Clay) -- I had worked with him in Jacksonville, Florida, about a decade earlier.

      And one funny moment: One of the sports copy editors came up to introduce himself: Jerry Barnes. "Nice to meet you," I said. "Oh, we've met before," Jerry said, smiling. "I was sitting next to you at the [Centenary College] Gold Dome the night you threw the basketball at an official (who was a friend of his)."

      Oops. Yes, in 1979, Barnes was an assistant sports information director at University of North Texas; I was the SID at Centenary. UNT's players that night were beating the hell out of our 6-11 center, Cherokee Rhone. I didn't like it. When the ball came bouncing over the media table right to me, I (not) gently directed back at an official with a (not) soft remark. I was excused from the table. (I have written a blog on that.)

    "Please don't tell anybody," I asked Barnes that night. I think he's tattled on me a few times since. We're still laughing about it.

---

    So, I ended up working some 14 to 16 stories that night ... and made an impression.

    Michele Machado, one of our page designers, laughingly recalled that when the shift was finished, she told people in the department, "That guy will never be back."

    But I knew that I wanted to work at the Star-Telegram, and told Bea that when I got back to Knoxville.

     When the shift ended, I drove to Carrollton where our son Jason was living (he had graduated from LSU and found a job in Dallas -- with travel to Tarrant County -- a few years earlier). Got up the next morning and drove to Shreveport, picked up Dad and we went to the San Jose State-at-Louisiana Tech football game that night, a one-sided Tech victory.

     Meanwhile, OU beat Texas 14-3 at the Cotton Bowl, with the memorable "Superman" tackle by OU safety Roy Williams that resulted in linebacker Teddy Lehman's 2-yard pass interception return near the end of the game clinching the victory for the Sooners.

    In a few days, Celeste called and offered me a position as a "contract" worker, not fulltime. But the pay was good, and we quickly decided to make the move from Knoxville to Fort Worth. 

     That meant leaving our Rachel behind in Knoxville, where she was a junior at the University of Tennessee. It meant being closer to the Van Thyns in Shreveport and even closer to Jason.

      No insurance coverage came with the job, but Celeste promised that the first copy-editor opening she had would be mine. Two weeks later, a copy editor left and I went fulltime, with insurance benefits. Good thing because only a few months later Bea was diagnosed with colon cancer. That insurance was a saver.

      What followed was Bea surviving two surgeries in four years, and a beautiful life still. For me, a decade at the Star-Telegram and a fulfilling end to a career. 

      Lots of good luck involved, and a first night at the S-T to remember.     

"Tanking" is still a dirty business

What Mavericks don't want to see: Team owner Mark Cuban, Luca Doncic and Kyrie 
Irving sitting togeter during another Dallas loss. (Getty Images photos)

      This blog usually focuses on the positive, trying to tell what we think is a good story.

      Not much positive about today's tale because I am writing about the state of the Dallas Mavericks.

    And that state -- pardon me -- is a bunch of crap.

     Love the team, and love the owner. Mark Cuban -- my opinion -- is one of the best team owners in sports. Or he was until a week or so ago.

      The Mavericks "tanked," no question. 

      Here is the definition I had in a blog dated July 14, 2015, on which the title was: "Tanking -- it's a dirty word."

         ("Tanking" -- losing games intentionally or not trying to bring in the best players and have the best roster possible. This, in order to finish near the bottom of the league and get a potential top-three or so draft choice next year to begin rebuilding the franchise.)

      This is the Mavericks, 2023. They purposely didn't field their best lineups to try to win games. Didn't care if they won; they actually didn't mind losing.

      For the April 7 "must-win" game against the Chicago Bulls, the Mavericks sat out five regular players and Luka Doncic, who is one of the NBA's most talented players, was in the game for 13 minutes, then sat out the rest.

      Those Mavs who did play worked hard, let for much of the first 2 1/2 quarters, and then wilted as the Bulls won 115-112.

     That sealed Dallas' non-playoff fate. Wait 'till next season. 

     Need to qualify this: I no longer care for the NBA. Haven't watched a game all season -- several seasons, actually -- and occasionally only had a game on for a few seconds when the TV accidentally went there.

     Still root for the Mavericks, but not much. I know Doncic is a wonderful, amazing offensive player. But he's too big a showoff, too big a whiner, a collector of technical fouls, for me.

      And, as with most of the current Mavericks, defense is a foreign language.

     This season's team went from a 31-26 record and fourth place in the Western Conference to a 7-18 finish after the huge trade for Kyrie Irving. Six games below .500 adds up to 11th place in the West ... and so long.

      When Doncic and Irving were in the lineup together, they were 5-11. Considering that Luka averaged 32.4 points, 8.6 rebounds and 8 assists a game, and Irving averaged 27 points and 6 assists in 20 games, that doesn't say much for the rest of the bunch. 

     Still, they were on the edge of the playoffs until ...

     But what Cuban and almost-new general manager Nico Harrison (nice first name, pal) did at the end of this NBA season just sucks.

        But to sit out five regular players -- purportedly for injuries and "rest" -- and then limit Doncic to a mere 15 minutes of play in the regular season's final game, with a glimmer of hope for winning and making the playoffs just isn't what sports should be about.

     The NBA "investigated" -- as if that was necessary -- and just announced a $750,000 fine for the Mavericks. Chump change for Cuban. Yeah, three-quarters of a million dollars.

       And it's not the first time we've had this scenario. Just hinting at it in 2015 prompted my blog then; a Metroplex columnist or two, and the radio sports talk show hosts suggested it then, maybe because Cuban mentioned it "off the record."

     Then in 2018, Cuban again raised the possibility -- on the record -- and the Association hit the Mavericks and him with a $600,000 fine.

    Here is a link to what I wrote in 2015: 

     https://nvanthyn.blogspot.com/2015/07/tanking-thats-dirty-word.html

     Said then that I could not imagine the Mavs' coach, Rick Carlisle, would have anything to do with not trying to win games.

     Carlisle took his NBA championship credentials back to the Indiana Pacers a couple of years ago -- one of my guesses is that he found Doncic hard to handle -- and so it is Jason Kidd who I guess had to follow orders and go along with the "tanking plan." 

    Kidd said "the organization" -- Cuban and Harrison -- decided to sit the half-dozen players.

     "It's not so much waving the white flag," Kidd said, according to a USA Today story. "It's decisions sometimes are hard in this business. We're trying to build a championship team. With this decision, this is maybe a step back. But hopefully it leads to going forward."

      So they are hoping for a higher draft pick, a great draw in the NBA lottery. No guarantee of that, so I question if missing the playoffs is worth it.

     And maybe this is fitting because this Mavericks team was a loser. Let's put Irving in that category (despite an NBA championship in his history when he was teamed with LeBron James in Cleveland).

      But Irving has been a malcontent at every stop. Here is a guy suspended by the NBA or his team for refusing the covid vaccinations and for endorsing an anti-semitic movie and not apologizing for doing so. 

     You'd think Cuban might've been leery of having his GM make the trade for Irving. But talent rules in the NBA, and Cuban -- always brash and innovative and, yes, fun -- is unafraid of taking chances.

      At least he kept an open mind for the trade. Then he closed that mind and had his team give less than its best effort. 

      He is a billionaire who is one of the most-fined people in NBA history. 

      Meanwhile, Irving is a free agent and the Mavericks hope to re-sign him, and hope that he and Doncic -- who might grow up one day -- will team with the No. 1 draft pick they'll add as a reward for missing the playoffs. (What are the chances?)

      Knowing Irving's past, it would be a shock if he plays in a Mavericks uniform again. 

      My view on all this: No tanks.    

Ross and Edwin: forever friends

  ...

Fr

    From their time in third grade together to lives in their early 70s, Ross Oglesby and Edwin Tubbs were best friends.

       Not inseparable -- because they had their own lives and families -- but darned near.

       They were my friends, too, because Sunset Acres (in southwest Shreveport) was that kind of neighborhood in the late 1950s and through the 1960s.  

     And -- heck, yes, I'm partial to them -- they were among the best people and the best athletes to come out of Sunset Acres. Especially together.

       It so happened that their third-grade year (fall 1957) began a couple of months after the Van Thyn family moved into the neighborhood.

       Over the next few years, those of us participating in schoolground touch football games and makeshift track meets on our streets learned this: Ross and Edwin were the fastest runners in our area.

       If you competed against them, you had no chance. Only Edwin could catch Ross; only Ross could catch Edwin. 

     When they were teammates -- as they soon would be at Oak Terrace Junior High and Woodlawn High School -- they were stars ... and winners.

        And they were great kids -- even-tempered, reliable, funny, not argumentative like some (guess who?), no trouble for teachers or parents.

       They would be that way, always. And always loyal to each other. 

       My opinion: Ross Oglesby was the best athlete ever to come out of Sunset Acres, high school All-State in two sports (football, track), a college football player. He was "Ross The Hoss."

       Edwin Tubbs was a terrific high school football player, a medal winner in Vietnam, one of the thousands of American unsung heroes in that woebegone war. 

       They would become husbands and fathers and grandfathers, working hard to support their families. It didn't always work out for them, and there were health and mental issues. They weren't especially book-smart, but they were smart, gentle and kind.

       It was a beautiful friendship.

       And I was proud to call them my friends forever, although the years and time separated us. 

      Because I was two years older, they were sort of like little brothers for me, and I was so proud that they were two of the biggest stars on the teams representing our schools. They were "my guys."

      Here is how close together we lived: First, both Ross and Edwin lived almost directly across from the Sunset Acres Elementary School grounds; all they had to do was walk across the street.

      On the blocks in the square around the
school:  Ross' family lived on West Canal (east side of the school); Edwin's family lived on Sunnybrook (north side); our close friends Johnny and Terry Tucker lived on Burke (west side, their backyard fence bordered the school); we lived on Amherst (south side). Ross' house was a half-block away from us. Visited there often.

       Lots of good times with those boys. Lots of laughs, lots of stories (a couple mildly x-rated). Lots of memories.

       We don't exactly have a happy ending here, except to say Ross and Edwin lived long, happy, productive lives. But ...

       Ross Oglesby, 74, died last Thursday after dealing with cancer -- and other ailments -- for several years. 

       Edwin doesn't know his best pal is gone. 

       For years, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) after Vietnam made his life, and his family's life, hell at times. More recently, dementia set in. 

        He is now in a veterans' home in Bossier City, well-cared for, still -- as his wife Kathie and their three daughters will say -- the sweet guy they adore. 

       But the PTSD has kicked in stronger than ever, and hospitalization and changes in medicine have been required lately. 

       Edwin's travails were not a subject Ross, in his final year and dealing with illnesses, could discuss. 

       Edwin and Kathie spent 44 years living in Southern Hills, which in the 1960s was Woodlawn territory. They then moved to Haughton -- which is where Ross has lived for years. (Haughton, for those who might not know, is in rural Bossier Parish, and it's the home of Dallas Cowboys QB Dak Prescott).

     Ross, in a marriage and re-marriage, had two sons and a daughter and now four grandsons and six granddaughters. Edwin and Kathie have seven grandchildren and one great-grandchild.

        "They loved each other like brothers," Kathie Pollard Tubbs says of our guys. "Ross became one of our family; he spent a lot of time here with our grandkids. He'd come over 3-4 times a week, and he'd go to the refrigerator and grab some cake or a soft drink."

     And, of course, there was lots of discussion of old times, of Sunset Acres and Woodlawn ... and stories.

       There was this interplay: "Ross was the aggravator," Kathie said, "and Edwin loved to be aggravated. It was a game they played, and they need an audience." 

       It was a battle of teasing appreciated by a closely knit group of Woodlawn football players who were seniors on the 1966 team, a dozen-plus who have stayed in contact through the years. They were all familiar with the Ross-Edwin dynamic.

     Size-wise, they were different. Oglesby, as a high school senior, was a muscular 6-foot-2, 200 pounds. Tubbs was compact, listed on the 1966 All-City team at 5-7 (he actually was 5-9) and 170 pounds. His strides were nothing like Ross', but he too could move. 

---

      Many of the '66 football seniors also were together in junior high at Oak Terrace, where as eighth-graders in track-and-field in 1963 they won that school's first city championship of any kind. Tubbs and Oglesby were key runners on the relay teams. They were ninth-grade champs the next year, with Tubbs winning both sprints (100 and 220 yards, plus two relays) and Oglesby on all three relay units.  

      In junior high, Tubbs was the star running back; Oglesby was an end. 

     At Woodlawn, running back was a position deep in talent, so Tubbs -- speedy and aggressive -- became a perfect fit at linebacker in defensive coach Jerry Adams' gambling/blitzing scheme. He was part of a junior-filled unit that struggled early, then became tough enough to balance a QB Terry Bradshaw/WR Tommy Spinks-led offense.

     That team, after mid-season struggles, walloped Byrd 39-0, Woodlawn's first-ever victory over the arch-rivals in six tries. It didn't lose again -- with one close escape at Neville (a 9-7 victory on a final half-minute field goal) -- until the Class 3A state-championship game. Sulphur won 12-9 in a hard rain at State Fair Stadium.

     So the defense was especially seasoned for the 1966 season, and the linemen -- offense and defense -- were the biggest physically Woodlawn had had in its seven years. The result was the best Knights' team ever -- a 10-0 regular season and a defense which had six shutouts and gave up only four TDs.

    Plus, a punishing running game on offense, led by Oglesby, who -- after tries at end and tackle, found the position he loved.

     Powerfully, he could run through tacklers or, with his long strides and speed, beat them to the outside. Three other backs also could play. 

     Twice both Oglesby and Tubbs were the "players of the week" selected by The Shreveport Times.

     Ross, with 1,308 yards rushing (5.2 per carry) -- 528 more than anyone else in Shreveport-Bossier -- became Woodlawn's first first-team All-State running back (Tommy Linder had been a second-team choice in 1962). 

     Edwin, shooting gaps and chasing down opposing QBs and RBs, was the Shreveport-Bossier "Defensive Player of the Year," chosen by the Shreveport Touchdown Club. He was second-team All-State -- the highest honor ever then for a Woodlawn defensive player. 

     The only preseason question marks for the '66 team were quarterback and one cornerback.

      The QB spot was filled by a promising, poised sophomore -- Joe Ferguson. The cornerback spot was filled by a transfer from North Caddo, Ronnie Alexander.

    Ferguson was steady, but not the passer he would become. In the next two seasons, he was the best high school football player -- passer -- many of us have ever seen. Turned out he was the real deal; he went on to 19 years in the NFL.

      A dozen of the players on the 1966 team would play college football, some at major schools. Alexander, All-City at cornerback, became a small-college All-American linebacker at Louisiana Tech and then was one of North Louisiana's best-ever defensive coaches (college and high school).

      But the 1966 Knights were the best Woodlawn team not to win the state championship. After a playoff-opening victory, disaster came in a lengthy trip to Bogalusa (345 miles, 6 1/2 hours one way). The trip back was longer.

     Bogalusa would haunt us forever. Ross and Edwin -- all of us -- often talked about it, ruefully.

     The score was 18-14, the Lumberjacks scoring the game-winning TD with about 5 minutes remaining after a long drive against a proud Woodlawn defense that wasn't the same as it had been.

     One major reason: two injured leaders. Tubbs had injured a calf early that week in practice. He played, but he limped at about half-speed, unable to do what he had done all season. And Alexander, a ferocious hitter and cover corner, left the game in the first quarter with an injured leg.

    Another factor: Bogalusa's junior quarterback. Terry Davis cut up the Knights' defense with 258 passing yards and another 59 rushing as he turned corners that Tubbs and Alexander might have filled. Davis also was for real; a couple of years later he started at QB for Coach Paul "Bear" Bryant at Alabama. 

    (Ironic, because Edwin Tubbs for life was an Alabama fan.)

     Oglesby, though, had a productive game with 112 yards rushing on 22 carries. But Woodlawn that night could not quite control the ball -- or game -- as it had all year.

---

    Ross, in the spring of their senior year, was one of the state's outstanding hurdlers -- the Class 3A state champion in the 120 highs (14.1) and second in the 180 lows (18.9), close to the best times ever in Louisiana, and All-State in both events. He was bigger than most hurdlers, but speed and athletic ability is what it is.

      He signed to play football at Louisiana Tech, and stayed two years, but played sparingly, not used to a new coaching staff there which was louder, more aggressive than the highly regarded Woodlawn staff that had nurtured him. He transferred to play two good seasons at Southern (Ark.) State in Magnolia.

     He would go into coaching -- a couple of

times -- and worked several other jobs, including truck driving, so he got to see much of the country. 

      He also gained much weight, almost double the 200 from high school, to an unhealthy point that affected his breathing. Urged to lose weight, he did -- but still was around 250. A hernia bothered him for years; when finally he submitted to an operation, cancer was found in his intestines. 

     Two rounds of chemo followed, until he had had enough. He had hospice care the last couple of months. 

       His great friend never knew. 

       Edwin wasn't college material, so he joined the U.S. Army right out of Woodlawn, and was patrolling in Vietnam a few months later. He survived it, but paid a price.

     He came home to marry Kathie on June 2, 1969, and they lived out his Army days at Fort Polk, La. Back in Shreveport, he began his own construction company and, for years, worked projects in town and throughout the Southeast as they raised their family. 

     "He was our hero," says Kathie. "He had all these medals for his military service, but he never showed them off. He was so humble. He wouldn't talk about it." But the PTSD at times made life more difficult.

      Ross helped him deal, too. How close were they? Each was the best man in the other's wedding. 

      "They stuck together all those years," Kathie says. 

       It all began in our beloved Sunset Acres days.