Opening Day, and a long love affair renewed

         Let's go, Yankees.

     Life -- well, sporting life -- begins again today. This should be a national holiday.

Aaron Judge, the captain (photos from Pinstripes Nation)

     It is Opening Day for major-league baseball, and this begins my 68th season as a Yankees fan. Yes, almost a lifetime.

     Who's counting? So, since the start of the 1956 season -- when a small kid from a foreign country found out that baseball could be a second sports love -- this covers 10,581 regular-season games, 307 postseason games. Lots of glory, lots of agony.

     A friend, a fellow Yankees fan for life, noted that "[today] we get to start our daily suffering." 

     True. There is nothing better for a sports fan than to follow the adventures -- day by day -- of a favorite team. 

      Here, that could be LSU football or Dutch soccer or the woebegone Dallas Cowboys ... but, truly, nothing beats Yankees baseball. Not in this apartment.

     Love the team, love the franchise, love the tradition ... the best tradition in American sports. It is, humbly said, the premier franchise in the world.

     (OK, you could say the Green Bay Packers, Boston Celtics, Los Angeles Lakers, Montreal Canadiens, Manchester United, Brazil soccer, Alabama football, and -- concession here -- Boston Red Sox or New England Patriots. Also, the St. Louis Cardinals and Los Angeles/Brooklyn Dodgers and the San Francisco/New York Giants. You choose; you are entitled to your favorite.)  

      But we have had the Babe and Lou, Combs, Lazerri, Red, Waite, (where have you gone?) Joe D., Marse Joe, Casey (the Ol' Professor), Cro, the Milkman, Snuffy, Spud, the Major, Billy the Kid, Joe G. (two of them), Atley, Heinrich, King Kong, Super Chief, Vic and Eddie, Joe Page, Scooter, Gil, Mickey and Roger (the M&M boys), Yogi, Whitey, a perfect Don, Bullet Bob, Ryne, Ellie, Hank, Moose, Tony and Bobby, Clete, Hector, Mel, Pepi, Murcer, Sparky, Goose, Puff, Thurman, Reg-gie, Sweet Lou, Roy, Willie, Bucky, Mick the Quick, Louisiana Lightning, the great Mo, Derek Jeter, Bernie, The Warrior, Tino, Jorge, Andy P., Robby, Straw, Knobby, Gardy, Dr. Brown, Bob Sheppard, Mel Allen, Geno, etc., etc., a cast of thousands ... and now a guy who hit 62 regular-season home runs last season, the Judge ("All Rise.")

      Tradition, pride, and the Big Stadium in the Bronx (third version), part of the greatest city in the world (thank you, Hamilton).   

      The opinion here: It is the best day of the year, topped only by your team winning the World Series (congratulations, Astros fans).

     We know that feeling -- 27 times. I've been around for 11 of those (and for eight second-best disappointments). But we have not had that championship feeling in the past 13 seasons. Nuts. 

     So we're not the Houston Astros, defending champions, the team that four times in the past eight seasons has ended the Yankees' season in the playoffs. Hard to believe, hard to take.

      We have become what the 1940s/1950s Brooklyn Dodgers used to be for the Yankees: their postseason foils.

      But not surprising. The Astros were -- are -- that good.

     Gosh, the Astros were our favorite National League team for years, especially in the early 1960s when we listened to many of their games on radio -- Gene Elston, Loel Passe and, for a brief, a young Harry Kalas -- and saw a few of their games on Shreveport television. The teams weren't all that good, but they were fun.

     But now that the Astros are in the American League, not so much fun for us Yankees. 

     Wish I could say that this is going to be the year the Yankees displace them. But not so confident about our chances. Darned near forgotten what it's like to win an American League pennant or a World Series; hasn't happened since 2009. 

      The 13-season Series-winning drought is the Yankees' longest since I was a young man (14 seasons, 1963-76, which included three AL pennants and Series losses).

       And think of these numbers: In my first 18 years (1947-64), the Yankees won 15 AL pennants and 10 World Series. Oh, joy. Which is why one of my favorite books is titled Dynasty.  

     Last season was one of the weirdest for the Yankees that I can recall. They looked unstoppable, unbeatable, potential Series champions for three-plus months: On July 8, they were 38 games above .500 (61-23) with a 15 1/2-game lead in the AL East.

     After that -- when injuries and old age and mediocrity set in -- they were mostly terrible, a .500 team in July, 10-18 in August, and the division lead crept down to 3 1/2 games before a small surge at the end. But they were no match (no offense) for the pitching-strong Astros in the AL Championship Series ... out in 1-2-3-4 games. 

     As my old friend, the late Jerry Byrd, would have said: No guts.       

     Going into this season, the Yankees' pitching looks shaky, questionable. Even Gerrit Cole, the supposed staff "ace" who is making a zillion dollars per season, wasn't all that great last year, but was among the MLB leaders in giving up home runs.

      Injuries already have dented a potential starting rotation and the bullpen, plus a defensive whiz in center field. 

       The regular lineup has the usual potential, but so many of the guys need to improve on last season when they particulary faded away in a miserable second half. Too many strikeouts, too many empty at-bats.

      It is a big ask to produce a traditional Yankees-like offense over the course of a full season. Lots to prove.

      Judge likely won't come close to 62 home runs again -- Roger Maris hit 33 in 1962 after his 61 in '61 -- but he can be a force again, and now -- starting on the field today -- he's the Yankees' captain. 

       And he has been a class act off the field, too, saying the right things and showing leadership. 

       This club might need some surprise elements, and the hope is that young shortstop Anthony Volpe -- after a strong spring-training showing -- is one. Will he be 1996 Jeter-like? Maybe some young pitchers will emerge as stars. That would be a boost.

       We like the way the Yankees go about their business, like that they always wear the pinstripes at home and the gray-with-blue trim on the road. No colored tops as an alternative, unless MLB has special across-the-board uniform demands.

      They almost always play the game the right way, they don't make excuses, they meet the media -- win or lose -- and they look business-like. OK, maybe the clean-shaven bit is a bit overdone for these days, but the ghost of George M. Steinbrenner (born on the Fourth of July) prevails.

      But there is this: The Yankees often have players that we don't like much. Uh, Roger Clemens, A-Rod, Aroldis Chapman ...  

      As for the game itself, we love the speed-up rules for pitchers and batters. Been saying for years that batters stepping out after each  pitch, to adjust batting gloves or dig in the dirt or to pick their nose, was a waste of time. 

      Don't like 3, 3 1/2, 4-hour games. Of course, if MLB really wanted to speed up things, cut the between-half-innings time from 2 1/2 minutes to one. But, hey, those breaks for TV/radio advertising, that's m-o-n-e-y. Gotta make millions to pay the poor players.

      Oh, glad that the infield shifts have been somewhat banned. Probably teams will find a way to adjust their defenses to take away what used to be sure base hits. 

       Bigger bases? That will mean more stolen base -- or at least attempts -- but the Yankees seldom have a base-running team worth a darn.

      Can't stand the runner-at-second-base-to-start extra innings rule. Cheap tactic. 

      A note about the local team, the Texas Rangers. They have many fans here in our facility, and I will watch some of their games on TV, provided cable access is available. And we might make a rare trip to the new barn-like ballpark with a roof ... (if someone gives us tickets). 

      The Rangers have spent plenty of free-agent money -- Corey Seager, Marcus Semien, Jacob deGrom and others -- and they have a Hall of Fame, three-time World Series champion manager (Bruce Bochy). Can't do better than him.

       They should be improved. Good luck to them ... but not too much luck. They are in the American League, so ...

      Personally, we have watched less baseball on TV in recent years ... or other sports. Don't watch anywhere as much as my friends might think. Other priorities, and less stress watching the teams I care about. Easier just to follow games via Gamecast on computer or the phone.

      And -- this is old school, old man talking -- just don't like the way today's athletes celebrate every good moment, the arm-waving, signaling to teammates, high fives, low fives, chest-beating, trash-talking, Gatorade-pouring. It is so much crap. 

      We were taught not to show up the opponent, the other team, or the refs (umps). 

      But we are relics, we are dinosaurs. People in my age range don't identify with today's athletes. Coaches, managers, management could control some of those antics, but they won't. Too much money involved.

       End of rant.

       It is baseball season. Glory be. Time to suffer some, time to relish the victories.

       ... And there it goes! See ya! 

       ... How about that!

       Let's go Yankees.

Basketball, murder, an everlasting mystery

Give Tommy Davis his due

     Start with this simple fact: Tommy Davis never has been inducted into the  Louisiana High School Athletic Association Hall of Fame.

    Ridiculous. A travesty.

    The recent announcement of 10 new inductees -- the Class of 2023 -- brought this point home again. Tommy Davis was ignored ... as he has been since this Hall of Fame was started in 1979.

     His senior year was 70 years ago. What are they waiting for? Is there an amount of time a candidate must wait, like four decades?

     He is -- our opinion, and that of many others -- simply the greatest football player, the most accomplished, in the history of what was Fair Park High School in Shreveport (1928-2017).  

     He was the star fullback and linebacker on the 1952 team that won the only Fair Park football state championship, and set a state record for points scored. 

    He was a star at LSU -- a key player on the 1958 national championship as the "Go" (offensive) team fullback and, more importantly, the Tigers' placekicker and punter. He turned pro and was missed by another great LSU team in 1959 when it could have won another national title.  

      With the San Francisco 49ers, he was one of the NFL's last combination placekicker-punters for a decade, twice a Pro Bowler, set the league record for most consecutive PATs, and was one of the best punters in history.

      If you pick the best high school running backs in Louisiana in the 1950s, you'd start with Billy Cannon, John David Crow and Jimmy Taylor. Might add Johnny Robinson and Tommy Mason. Tommy Davis is right there with them.

      (And to show how haphazard -- and frankly, dumb -- the selections for this Hall of Fame have been, consider that Cannon and Robinson were not chosen until 2020, so some 65 years after senior seasons. Also in that 2020 class: quarterback Doug Williams, a senior in 1973, and baseball star Rusty Staub, a 1961 graduate.) 

      Davis was inducted into the Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame in 1988, a year after his death (of lung cancer) in California at age 52. He was inducted into the American Kickers Hall of Fame in 2014.

       When we learned a year ago that he had never made this Hall of Fame, we also were told there was  one major reason: He'd never been nominated.

       Took care of that last December. (See nomination listings below.)

       But he apparently remains invisible to the selection committee.

       We are sure that the 10 people chosen for this class are deserving. So are -- we say diplomatically -- the 340 selected (athletes, coaches, principals, administrators, referees/officials, contributors and, yes, even four sportswriters over 44 selection "classes."

        (Likely the average sports fan in Louisiana will not even have heard of most of these people; this Hall is very oriented to school principals and coaches. Even more knowledgeable fans might be clueless on these names.)

       But no Tommy Davis. That's not right.

       Also, if you can believe this, the only athlete from Shreveport's Byrd High School -- one of the great producers of talent and championships for almost 100 years -- was a baseball player, but is in this Hall for his coaching success in girls basketball.

        In fact, there is scant representation of athletes from Caddo and Bossier Parish schools (see list below). Two Bossier High athletes were chosen for their coaching careers.

       Actually, Fair Park has done as well as any school from northwest Louisiana in this Hall of Fame: running backs and all-around athetes Lee Hedges, Rogers Hampton and A.L. Williams (although Hedges and Williams' selections were based more on their outstanding high school football coaching careers); baseball/football coach James C. Farrar; Olympics high jumper Hollis Conway; and sportswriting legend Jerry Byrd Sr.

     Fair Park people would tell you that the Louisiana High School Sports Hall of Fame also should include coaches F.H. "Homer" Prendergast (football), Clem Henderson (basketball/principal), all-around athlete and coach Jimmy Orton, and stars such as Leo Sanford (football), Charles Beasley, Kenny Simpson and Stromile Swift (basketball), and 

Joe May, Jerry Dyes and Rod Richardson (track and field).

         Oh, and Tommy Davis, a state and national championship star. Yes, he has been nominated.

      So, to the selection committee members -- Keith Alexander, Jimmy Anderson (standing chairperson), Eddie Bonine, David Federico, James Simmons, Robin Fambrough, Kim Gaspard, Kenny Gennuso, Kathy Holloway (chairperson), Karen Hoyt, Eric Held, Philip Timothy and Ken Wood -- as Mr. Byrd would have said: You blew it!

    Wait 'til next year (again).

    This is an incredible years-long oversight. 

    

         

TOMMY DAVIS qualifications:

High school --Three-year starter at linebacker and fullback, and also the team’s punter and placekicker; Fair Park played in the state championship game, Class AA, each year. Won the state championship in 1952 (the only football state title in the school’s history). As a senior, Davis rushed for a state-record 1,650 yards in the regular season and set a state record with 184 points.

College -- LSU running back, 1953-54, and 1958; also the team’s punter-placekicker in 1958. In the national-championship season of 1958, he was the “Go Team” (offensive unit) fullback, and rushed 69 times for 243 yards, scored four touchdowns. His kicking was the difference in two of LSU’s victories (a field goal against Florida, 10-7; an extra point against Mississippi State, 7-6. His deep punts were a key to Coach Paul Dietzel’s conservative, defense-first philosophy.  

NFL -- 11 seasons (1959-69) as punter and placekicker for the San Francisco 49ers. Twice All-Pro (1962, 1963). He made a still-standing NFL record 234 consecutive PAT kicks over his first six-plus seasons; for his career, he made 348 of 350 PAT kicks and made 130 field goals in 276 attempts. As a punter, his career average of 44.7 yards is second lifetime, bested only by Sammy Baugh’s 45.1. His 45.6-yard average led the NFL in 1962.                                         

Louisiana High School Sports Hall of Fame inductees, primarily from Caddo-Bossier schools (by year inducted):

1980 -- Joe Ferguson (Woodlawn football, track and field)

1981 -- Terry Bradshaw (Woodlawn football, track and field)

1986 -- J.D. Cox (Byrd coach, football and baseball)

1987 -- Lee Hedges (Fair Park athlete, multi-sport coach, four Shreveport  schools)

1987 -- Robert Parish (Woodlawn basketball)

1989 -- Frank Lampkin (Bossier basketball coach/principal)

1991 -- Billy Montgomery (Haughton basketball coach)

1995 -- Woodrow Turner (Byrd coach track-field and football)

1996 -- James Farrar (football-baseball coach, three Shreveport schools)

1997 -- Rogers Hampton Sr. (Fair Park athlete)

2000 -- Bobby Ray McHalffey (Bossier athlete, Haughton football/track-field coach)

2001 -- Jerry Byrd Sr. (Fair Park grad, sportswriter/editor)

2005 -- Rick Huckabay (Bossier baseball; basketball coach at several schools) 

2008 -- Tommy Henry (Bossier coach, LHSAA commissioner)

2011 -- Alana Beard (Souhwood basketball)

2011 -- Hollis Conway (Fair Park track-field)

2014 -- A.L. Williams (Fair Park athlete, Woodlawn coach)

2016 -- Kenny Guillot (Jesuit football, coach in Baton Rouge)

2016 -- Steve McDowell (Byrd baseball, Southwood girls basketball coach)

2016 -- Todd Walker (Airline baseball)

2020 -- Brock Berlin (Evangel football)

That's the old ballgame, Shreveport -- a book for sale!

           Happy to announce That's the old ballgame, Shreveport has been published, and is now for sale.

      I have the first three copies -- they arrived today -- and can tell you that the type is large enough for easy reading.

       It is 231 pages of Shreveport and North Louisiana pro baseball history. Many photos and capsules on the players and officials significant to the teams that represented Shreveport, the city's ballparks, and the area players who played pro ball -- in the majors and minor leagues.

---

       When people suggest that writing this book has been "a labor of love," they are correct.

       Loved doing it, the writing and even moreso the research. Proofreading was a task. To the final read, there were corrections to make.

       And, yes, it was a labor. Putting together the book -- formatting it -- took the first seven months of 2022. No technical wizardry here; let's say that the Publisher and Word programs often were more in charge than the formatter.

       But with lots of help, it is done. Thankfully.

       Going back even further, the project began four years as a series of chapters on my blog, Once A Knight. But much material was updated and corrected, and there are many more photos than in the blog series.

        While finishing up in the past couple of months, three of the 1959-61 Shreveport Sports passed away -- Dave Wickersham, Frank Cipriani and the popular Leo Posada. Sad, but all were in their 80s. We updated their player capsules.  

       So many great names in this book, many great memories ... and the issues that led to the demise of pro ball in the city. 

---      

       Two ways to buy the book:

       (1) You can buy the book on Amazon ($35 per copy, plus shipping costs);

       (2) Preferably, you can buy the book from me. Let me know, and I will order it and then send it to you (send $35 and your mailing address).

       (To be honest, we benefit more if you order through me. Amazon Publishing, which printed the book, gets a greater share with a direct order.)

       But who's counting?

       Here is the link to the Amazon order page, if that's the way you want to go:       https://www.amazon.com/dp/1791838391

       Hope you will be interested in the book. 

The Best Game Ever

     Just finished reading The Best Game Ever, a book we came across 3 1/2 months ago the day before the men's NCAA Tournament basketball championship game.

      North Carolina vs. Kansas, remember?

      The 2022 final matchup was the same as the 1957 championship game that was the subject of my April 3 Facebook/e-mail post ... and this book.

      That '57 game was a classic, the only NCAA title game to go three overtimes. A classic matchup, too -- an undefeated North Carolina team vs. a Kansas team featuring the incomparable, imposing, awesome 7-foot giant, Wilt "The Stilt" Chamberlain. 

     The book's subtitle: "How Frank McGuire's '57 Tar Heels beat Wilt and revolutionized college basketball."

     No national TV coverage then,  scant newspaper coverage. But, as I wrote in my April 3 post, it was the first college basketball game I remember. (Reading about it then, when I was 9 and had never seen a game in person, it made an impression ... and a memory).

     Looking for a photo to go with my April post, I found a copy of this book cover. Soon, we had the book ... and there is a reason. 

      First, though, a summation: Published in 2006, this was written by Adam Lucas (billed then as publisher of the newsletter Tar Heel Monthly, author of books on North Carolina basketball and still today writer of the blog page goheels.com). 

     So, yes, this book is written from a North Carolina view, about its 1956-57 team, and the covers have Carolina blue ink on black backgrounds.

       It is a good read, an interesting history lesson ... and I am not, never have been, a North Carolina or Kansas fan. But basketball and Wilt, yes.

---

     George Barclay was our friend here at Trinity Terrace, our seniors residency in Fort Worth. He was always in our media/computer/copy machine room, spent much of his waking days there, helpful to anyone who needed to work the machines. He had a long, successful career in banking and financial institutions, he had traveled the country, and he was very interested and very knowledgeable -- and very opinionated -- about athletics. Particular interests: horse racing (he was an owner), track and field (he ran in high school and college) and -- aha! -- basketball.

     So we spent many hours -- as I worked on books and blogs in that room -- discussing sports. And George had many stories about his life, his work, and his sports involvement.

      Many stories. He was from Philadelphia, he had seen the young Wilt Chamberlain -- a high school phenom -- play pickup games on the Philly hardcourts. George had attended, he counted, 11 colleges/universities, and one of the early ones, in the mid-1950s, was North Carolina (where he ran track, as a quartermiler). So he was there as coach Frank McGuire recruited the half-dozen New York City kids who were the nucleus of this Tar Heels program.

    When I mentioned my North Carolina-Kansas post and finding this book, George took note.

     We watched the April 4 NCAA final together, stunned -- as many were -- by Kansas' quick comeback from a 15-point halftime deficit and the Jayhawks' eventual 72-69 victory. 

     It was a get-even outcome, 65 years later, for Carolina's 54-53 3-OT title victory against Wilt & Co.

      A day or two later, George had a surprise for me: He had gone online and ordered the book. Paid $9 for it, plus shipping cost.

      "You want to read it when I'm done?" he asked. Sure.

      A week later, April 15, our friend George Barclay, 86, collapsed at lunch in our dining room. MedStar medics came quickly, and rushed him -- unconscious -- to a nearby hospital. I didn't see the collapse, but knew there was an emergency. A couple of hours later, I learned it was George.

      Called the hospital twice the next morning to check on him. No record of a George Barclay. Huh?

       An hour later, someone downstairs told me: George had died. 

      Next day I happened to see his daughter, son and spouses as they came to his apartment. They told me it was a brain aneurysm that ruptured. He went as he had desired: quickly.

      Helped them find his storage area in one of our parking garages. In the apartment, he had every detail written for them -- financial records, what to do with his belongings (a car donated to kids who care), request for cremation, no funeral, just a memorial dinner for family and friends.

     I told them about the book. It was on a table next to his couch. They graciously gave it to me.

      George's bookmark was on page 42. It is still there.

---

       There are many familiar names and connections in this book, including -- of course -- a couple to Louisiana. 

       I did not know much of the history of college basketball in North Carolina. Did not realize that the Tar Heels only had occasional basketball success -- an NCAA Tournament title-game loss in 1946. But the NCAAs had only a limited field and limited interest through the 1940s and much of the 1950s.

     The big event in that time was the Christmas-time Dixie Classic, an eight-team, three-day tournament that always included the four "Tobacco Road" schools (Duke, Wake Forest, North Carolina and North Carolina State) and four "outside" schools from around the country. That was the tournament to win.

     That, and the postseason tournament in the widespread Southern Conference and, beginning in 1953-54, the new eight-team Atlantic Coast Conference. The tradition was that only the tournament winner -- not the regular-season champion -- would go to the NCAA Tournament.

    The postseason tournament for years was played at North Carolina State because (1) it was the league powerhouse team; (2) its coach, Everett Case, was the dominant figure, one of the earliest proponents of fast-break, running offenses and an innovator (such as cutting down the nets after significant victories and having a pep band play at games); and (3) NC State's Reynolds Coliseum was the first modern and sizeable (12,400 seats) arena in that area.

     But slick Frank McGuire -- smooth talker, fancy dresser, dynamic motivator, explosive manner -- came to Chapel Hill in 1953 and in a couple of years had a program to match Case's.

        And Case's program was never the same after 1957 and an NCAA penalty for recruiting violations. And here is a Louisiana connection (some of my friends will know this -- think Minden High School, mid-1950s, and a 6-7 superstar player ...)

    From page 37: "The NCAA Tournament was growing in popularity, and to gain notoriety teams had to succeed on the national stage. Case struggled to do that. Soon, he would find his program embroiled in a recruiting scandal. Jackie Moreland, a Louisiana native, originally had signed a letter of intent with Texas A&M but  also had committed to Kentucky. He showed up somewhat unexpectedly at NC State in 1956 and immediately landed the program in trouble. The [Wolf]Pack had just finished a one-year probation for holding illegal tryouts when reports of cash gifts to Moreland and scholarship offers to his girlfriend hit the papers. The ramifications were serious: The NCAA leveled State with a five-year probation deemed 'the most severe ever assessed' by the athletic association."

     (Another Case connection to Louisiana: He coached through two games in the 1964-65 season when cancer forced his retirement. He was succeeded by his assistant coach ... Press Maravich.

    Similarly, when McGuire's program was hit by recruiting violations in 1961 and he was forced to resign, he was succeeded by his assistant, Dean Smith. You might have heard of him.

     Smith, incidentally, was not rooting for North Carolina in the 1957 title game. He was an assistant coach at Air Force then and attended the national semifinals and finals -- not yet known as "The Final Four" -- in Kansas City with a couple of friends of McGuire. But he made it clear he was rooting for his alma mater, Kansas. He had been a little-used guard on the Jayhawks' 1952 NCAA championship team.

      But when McGuire, impressed with the young man, offered his assistant's job a year later, Smith became a Tar Heel ... for life.

---

     Amazing thing about North Carolina's 32-0 season in 1956-57 is that four of its victories went overtime, and its last two games (Michigan State and Kansas) were triple overtimes.

      Also amazing: The Tar Heels played the last 1:45 of regulation and all three OTs vs. Kansas without their star player and leading scorer, 6-5 forward Lennie Rosenbluth, who fouled out with 20 points.

      And yet, they held off the mighty Wilt, who finished with 29 points and 13 rebounds. Of course, they surrounded him whenever they could, but at the end, Wilt's foul led to Carolina's decisive two free throws.

     Chamberlain, already a future NBA "territorial" draft pick by his hometown Philadelphia Warriors, wound up at Kansas when recruited by legendary coach Phog Allen and -- secretly -- cash payments by KU boosters.

    As a freshman, not eligible for varsity play, he had 42 points and 29 rebounds to lead the freshmen to a 10-point victory over the varsity.

     A year later in his varsity debut against Northwestern, Wilt shattered KU and Big Seven Conference records with 52 points and 31 rebounds. He was a record-setter in many ways, always.

     But as throughout his NBA career -- which began after he left Kansas after the one varsity year and title-game loss, and a year with the Harlem Globetrotters -- Wilt could be difficult. He was his own man, a super-strong force.

    "Wilt was politely disobedient," a Kansas assistant coach said. "He was a prodigy long before his time. He was well beyond his years physicially, but he still had so much he could learn. Most people learn to accept that they have to be patient with change. Wilt could not be patient with change because he had so much pride in being able to do something well. He had taught himself to shoot the ball, and he had pride in that. That could make him difficult to coach."

    (Funny, I always rooted for Wilt.)

     Kansas lost road games at Iowa State and Oklahoma State -- both times Wilt was stymied by physical play -- and that is why it lost the No. 1 ranking to North Carolina. But Jayhawks' fans were convinced that Wilt would lead them to the national championship.

     Didn't happen. The Best Game Ever tells us why.

       Thanks for the book, George Barclay. Miss you.

Eating at the trainer's table

"Our Janice" was always a champion

     Came across a fond memory of a spectacular woman ...

     Janice Cahn was as close to a grandmother as we -- my younger sister Elsa and I -- ever had.

     She was Mom's surrogate mother, the beloved angel our mother needed so badly after she lost her mother -- and the rest of her immediate family -- to Nazi-made deaths in the Holocaust.

     Mrs. Cahn -- "Granny Cahn" to us, "our Janice" to Mom -- was one of our lives' greatest blessings, as she was to several immigrant families in Shreveport for decades.

     Almost 10 years ago, I did a blog piece on her. And here is an update because two nights ago while researching Shreveport pro baseball material in May 1970, I came across this photo.

      This was a heart-tugging, tear-inducing moment. A memory of someone so dear to us. There she was -- again -- on the sports page of The Shreveport Times. And by that time, I was on the sports staff there.

     It reminded of something I knew, but had never really researched:

     Janice Cahn -- or Mrs. Abry S. Cahn, as the newspapers in the 1930s, '40s and '50s called her, every time -- was a helluva competitive golfer. 

     She didn't talk about it much in our many visits from the late 1950s through her passing in June 1986. She wasn't one to brag. 

     Looking over the clippings I found Friday, she had so much she could have said. For starters, she was the first from Shreveport to win the Louisiana women's state amateur (in 1932). 

     She knew I loved sports, and so we'd talk about golf in the early 1960s when I was a fan only because of TV coverage and because of Arnold Palmer. 

     Among the many, many gifts Mrs. Cahn gave me was a book, The Gilded Age of Sport, written by Herbert Warren Wind. He was considered the finest golf writer in the country for decades (yes, before Dan Jenkins) and was one of Sports Illustrated's stars for a few years after its 1954 inception. 

     This book was first published in 1945, and updated every year. Mrs. Cahn gave me the 1961 version. I was 14; the book -- honestly -- was a bit above my level then. But it aged, and so did I, and it has been re-read often. It sits within reach of where I am typing this blog.

     Mrs. Cahn knew how to pique my reading interest ... among many other things this wise woman knew.

     Please read my 2012 blog piece on her (and know that we now have four grandchildren; it was three then):

https://nvanthyn.blogspot.com/2012/06/granny-cahn-set-example.html

     And I am adding these clippings and photos that will tell you much more about Janice Cahn, and what a powerhouse she was, what a contribution she made to Shreveport-Bossier and to life itself.

     It is this simple: She was one of the greatest people we've known.

 

From a golf column in The Shreveport Times, 1953

December 1959, Shreveport Journal

From a 1970 Shreveport Journal story

One October day in 1962, Ralph Terry stood tall

     Ralph Terry died this week, another of our 1960s baseball heroes gone. Their days, and their ranks, are dwindling.

     There was a special personal affinity for Ralph Terry, for several reasons. Primarily because he was the hero of the 1962 New York Yankees' season and World Series championship team.       

     If you've watched the '62 World Series film -- and it's played on this computer about, oh, 62 times -- you know that Ralph threw the last pitch of Game 7, and that the San Francisco Giants' big man, Willie McCovey, knocked the heck out of that pitch ... a screaming line drive right to -- thank goodness -- Yankees second baseman Bobby Richardson.

     Sweet redemption for Ralph (and the Yankees).

     Because two years earlier, he also threw the last pitch of the World Series. That ball ended up sailing off the bat of the Pittsburgh Pirates' Bill Mazeroski and over the wall in left field at Forbes Field. So ... 10-9, Pirates, and an immortal baseball moment.

     Another reason Ralph Terry was one of our guys: (roll your eyes) He once pitched, at age 17, for the Minden Redbirds in the summer semipro Big Eight League, based in North Louisiana. (Yes, we are partial to that area.)

     He was an Oklahoma kid, tall and rangy, a pro prospect looking for good competition. A year later he had signed with the Yankees and was pitching for their Class A farm team. Two years later, he made his major-league debut.

     But he never had a winning season in "the bigs" until 1960, and -- see above -- that season didn't end well (no thanks to Mr. Mazeroski).

 However, when my top  personal memory of
Ralph Terry goes to 1962, specifically Tuesday, October 16, Game 7, and the victory ride his teammates gave No. 23 off the field at Candlestick Park.

      That was, as happens so often, a tense, dramatic, memorable Game 7.

      And my memory takes me to the football practice field at Woodlawn High School, a few minutes -- if I recall -- past 2:30 p.m.

---

     Sophomore year, football manager (equipment dispenser, tower picker-upper, etc.). Innocent (naive) 15-year-old, a sports maniac. Really, the only interest in life, and baseball (Yankees) was the No. 1 concern (Woodlawn was 1-A).  

     But on that Tuesday afternoon, at  practice, my mind wasn't on football. It was on the baseball game on my transitor radio -- brown case -- that I had to my ear.

     Practice? Who cares? There were other managers around.

     We had a helluva good team, a carryover from the "Cinderella" district champions the year before. We were 5-1, 4-0 in district, and that week was a tense one at Woodlawn because our opponent on that Thursday was Byrd High School, the arch-rival.

     Uh, we didn't like Byrd. 

     We had routed a good West Monroe team 26-0 the previous Thursday. Byrd was 2-0 (and had a big, bad team that -- spoiler alert -- would go on to play in the state-championship game). 

     We knew we'd have to play without our promising sophomore quarterback, our friend Trey Prather. He had been the backup QB the first six games, and against West Monroe had emerged as a star, 3-for-3 for passing with two touchdown connections to Edwards Walker (12 and 23 yards). Trey also ran four times for 28 yards. But on his last run, Trey was knocked out of bounds across the field at the West Monroe bench. He didn't get up. Result: broken left wrist.

     Trey easily was our best passer. But the starter, Joe Geter, came back in and found Walker for his third TD catch. (Our friend, Ed Walker, who passed away in Houston just a month ago.) 

     We digress. Sorry. Byrd High was on everyone's mind. Mine was on the Yankees-Giants Game 7.

     Great game, great Series. Rain-delayed for three days before Game 6 in San Francisco. Giants won that one to force Game 7.

     Ralph Terry had been the Game 2 loser at Candlestick and he'd never won a World Series game (his Series record was 0-4)... until a complete-game victory in Game 5 at Yankee Stadium, helped by rookie Tom Tresh's three-run home run to break a 2-2 tie in the bottom of the eighth.

     In Game 7, Ralph was the right guy on the mound in the right place. He had won 23 games in the regular season (23-12 record), pitched almost 300 innings, by far his greatest season. Also gave up 40 home runs, but so what?

     On this day, he stopped an outstanding Giants team -- the first San Francisco National League champion -- on four hits. Some defensive gems helped him.

     Tresh saved him in the seventh inning
with a running backhanded catch in left field on a drive hit by ... Willie Mays. McCovey followed with a long triple, but he was stranded at third. Thus, the Yankees' 1-0 lead was preserved.

      Classic ninth inning. Yankees failed to score after loading the bases with no outs -- forceout at home, double-play grounder (5-U, 5-3 if you're scoring, baseball fans). Bottom nine: Matty Alou pinch-hit, perfect drag bunt single. Terry struck out the next two batters. 

     Up comes the mighty Mays (oh, Lord, I'm shaking listening to this). Lines a hit to right field. Roger Maris, a terrific outfielder, rushes over to the corner, cuts the ball off before it can get to the fence and hurries his throw to the cutoff man -- Richardson, in short right, relays it home and Alou has to stop at third. Phew!

     Mays is at second, the potential winning run on a single. 

     McCovey, an awesome man, is up. First base is open; Orlando Cepeda is on deck. Yankees manager Ralph Houk goes to talk to Terry, and they decide to forgo the "percentage" move (walk McCovey, get a righty-on-righty matchup with Cepeda). Huge gamble.

     First pitch McCovey hits a long, long drive ... foul. I'm listening, and really shaking now. Second pitch: the line drive to Richardson.

     Game over, Series over ... the Yankees win! (World Series title No. 20, the 10th of my lifetime. Would have to wait 15 years for  another one. Damn.) 

     Radio goes flying in the air as high as I could throw it, but I didn't yell. Didn't want to disrupt football practice. Probably the coaches and the guys didn't notice. I didn't care. I loved Ralph Terry then, and I loved him forever.

---

     Another scene, two years earlier: Junior high eighth-grade math class, Maurice K. Nickels the excellent teacher, sometime before 2 p.m. We're taking a test, Game 7 of the '60 World Series is going on. I know the Yankees were ahead 7-4 in the eighth inning. Mr. Nickels leaves the room, comes back in after a while and announces to the class that the Pirates have won the Series on a home run by Bill Mazeroski.

     One kid, age 13, in Mr. Nickels' class sinks in his seat, feeling ill. Doesn't want to believe it. Doesn't know that Ralph Terry gave up that home run.

     Two years later, we forgive Ralph.

---

     Met him in the early 1990s when he was playing the Seniors PGA Tour and was in an event at the Valley Course at TPC Sawgrass in Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida. He was that good a golfer, maybe the best-ever baseball player-turned-golfer. It was the day I followed Arnold Palmer's round, but sought out Terry afterward.

     Thanked him for 1962, mentioned Minden, which brought a laugh. He said it was a good memory.

     He was 86 when he left us this week. The only other Yankees who played in that Game 7 in 1962 still living also are 86 -- Bobby Richardson and Tony Kubek. Giants players from that game still with us are the greatest player I've seen: Mr. Mays, and Felipe Alou and "The Baby Bull," Cepeda. 

     Heck, they're all legends. But on October 16, 1962, Ralph Terry was The Man.

--- 

      One postscript: Talk about tense, what we didn't know that day, but would learn by the following Monday ... This item taken from history.com, a "This Day in History" listing:

      "In a televised speech of extraordinary gravity, President John F. Kennedy announced on October 22, 1962, that U.S. spy planes have discovered Soviet  missile bases in Cuba."

       (The Soviets. The Russians. Troublemakers. Some things don't change.)

       Yikes. And we thought the World Series and Byrd-Woodlawn football were tense. Right.