BlitzBlog

They say “the third time’s the charm.”

Blitzblog is now located at it’s third address, having  migrated “home” to it’s author’s own website.

I welcome all you newcomers who are just now discovering Blitzblog. I thank all you intrepid souls who’ve followed Blitzblog around the Internet, and am glad tobe able to tell you that you can now rest your eyeballs here.

For those of you who are clicking here on Blitzblog after coming through the mBlitz business portal, allow me this caveat: My business persona and personal persona, while inextricably linked, are two different people. Yes, I am sometimes (ok, most of the time) a twisted human being with a bizarre sense of humor. I will spend time on this blog pushing (and often passing) the boundaries of good taste, and you might even think to yourselves after reading this “Oh man, that’s just wrong.” You may even feel the need, after reading Blitzblog, to go boil your mouse hand and eyeballs. Be assured that amongst the regular readers of Blitzblog, some have been offended, some have been amused, some have been bored to tears, but nobody has ever been physically injured or developed anything that might ooze.

That being said, if you’ve read the mBlitz website and are so impressed that you simply must do business with me, trust that I can pretend to be an adult for most of the time you’re shelling out your hard-earned dollars for my services.

Other’n'that, like I said, caveat emptor. Enjoy!

It was a high fly ball. Huge in fact. Major league high. It seemed to take forever to come down. Enough time for me to turn to the ump, Armen, and say, “How fitting is this?”  The ball was coming down, and our team’s namesake/sponsor was settling under it for the last out of the league championship game. The out that would finally crown us champs after 8 years of trying.

Our first year in the league, we won one game. In the second year, we went winless. Year 3, we were a juggernaut, going 2 and 14. While this sounds pathetic, we actually were improving. I’m guess that in the first 2 years, we got “mercied” about half the time. (Mercy-ing is when the Mercy Rule kicks in. When a team is ahead by 13 runs after 5 innings, the game automatically ends). So you see, by year 3, we were almost competitive. Our two wins undoubtedly came against the next worst team, who probably was playing a man short.

By year 4, however, we started to gel. We picked up a couple of new good players, pitchers, and lost a few lousy ones. Our positions started to become habit, and wth that, our mistakes started to become, well I wouldn’t use the term rarer, but at least not as commonplace. I found a home behind the plate, at catcher, after bouncing around from 3rd to 2nd to outfield. Our new pitcher, Mike (known as Wolfie), was somewhat wild, but he could bring some serious heat in our modified fast pitch league. (Pitch as fast as you want without windmilling). In years four and five we won 4 games each, and were at least starting to be taken seriously by our opponents.

Year 6, 2006, we got hot at the end of the season, winning 3 of our last 4, going 6-8 for the regular season and made the last seed in the playoffs. We took 2 of 3 from the top seed and advanced to the finals against Brazen Head Pub, where we won Game One. Game Two was close but we lost, and then we were blown out in Game Three to lose the championship. We knew we’d just gotten hot, and were happy just to be there, but losing stung nonetheless. See the original post about this here.

Year 7, last year, we went 11-5 on the season, with 3 losses coming to FGFP, who’d become our antagonistic rivals. They were The Hump we knew we’d have to get over to win it all, and as we headed in to the playoffs, we started looking past our 1st round opponent, and dropped game one. We quickly recovered to take the next two to advance to the Championship Round for the second straight year. At least this year, we knew we belonged. Wolfie had developed into one of the league’s more feared pitchers, and catching him was now a great load of fun. His control had gotten to the point, and I now had enough knowledge of the league’s hitters, where I could actually call a game behind the plate. In Game One we took control, giving FGFP a spanking, but Game Two turned that around. In the final deciding game, we couldn’t find our bats, and we lost in frustrating fashion. I consoled myself in that losing in the Championship was better than losing all season, and we’d come a long way.

This year, we added two excellent players. A hot-headed crazy man at 3rd base, who could also pitch, and a 4th outfielder with a cannon arm. They could also both hit. We steamrolled through the season, losing only 3 games, 2 to FGFP and the other to an upper division team that ultimately left us with the regular season crown. On to the playoffs!

We swept our opponent (PruRand Realty) in the first round and were now set up to meet the team that had knocked us out 2 years ago, Brazen Head, who’d upset FGFP in their first round matchup. Brazen Head was not to be taken lightly, as they had a potent lineup of big boppers. Wolfie came out strong and we took Game one 10-7. They came back to win game two 11-5 in a game where everything we hit just seemed to go right to a fielder. In Game Three, the final and deciding game, they quickly jumped ahead 2-0, but we answered back in the bottom half of the 1st. The game went on like that- back and forth, until we stretched it to 10-5 lead. They closed to 10-7, and we answered back with 2 more in the 6th. In their last at bat, Brazen Head clawed back, with a huge 3-run homer with 2 outs to make it 12-10, and we were sweating.

The next batter swung, hitting that high, high pop to 2nd base.

After what seemed an eternity, the ball came down out of the heavens. How fitting it was going to be, 2nd baseman Paul Nebrasky making the last catch for the championship for Nebrasky Plumbing/Bourbon Street Cafe’s softball team. Paul’s head was tilted as far back as it’d go, calling “I got it!”  for all to hear. And the ball came down into his glove.

And popped out and fell at his feet.

He picked it up to throw to first, but Rob, our first baseman had already skipped over to celebrate between Paul and Wolfie. No matter, as the ball was so high the runner had had enough time to jog to first.

So now the tying run came to the plate. It was crunch time, and I walked out to Wolfie, pumped my fist and gritted “Let’s END this thing!” I turned and trotted back to the plate, squatted down, threw out a target.

Strike 1!

One more pitch, a high outside target and Wolfie chucked what looked like a fat one right to it. The batter bit, and got under it. A lazy fly ball that 3 seconds later settled into our right-center fielder Gary Cole’s  glove, and we all ran like little kids to the mound for the traditional pig pile. I’d waited 8 long years, and was  one of only three original players left from our first year’s pathetic squad (Paul and our leftfielder Kevin being the others) and it FELT SO GOOD! Like a dream I’d been chasing, playing through the aches and pains of an almost 50-year-old body, enduring the snide remarks from friends and spouse, the endless parade of opponents runs scoring behind me like a simpering doorman, all of it was now a memory! Washed away by one glorious season. And then washed down with a lot of beer, Patrón, and Johnny Walker Blue! What a wonderful hangover.

This is what a champion looks like.

So after our time spent at Mid-Ohio Raceway in Lexington, Zac and I drove the hour and a half to Cleveland. We checked into the Hampton Inn Downtown, just a few blocks from the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, at about 5 o’clock.

Now I’d looked at all the info for the R&RHOF online, and what surprised me the most were the hours operation. 10am-5:30pm. Yes, my friends, a Rock & Roll place closes in time for the Early-Bird Special. Something is just not right. I mean, if it’s going to be authentically Rock & Roll, it should open at about 4pm and close at 4am. You know, drinking hours. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch. I guess on weekends, drinking hours could start at 11am.

So I’d hoped we could check out the HOF that evening, but alas, we’d have to get up at the ungodly hour of 9 in the morning to get there when the place opened at 10 on Sunday.

In the mean time, two boys with time to kill took a stroll in hoppin’ downtown Cleveland, to get some eats and see what’s what. So we head out the door of the hotel on East 9th, make a left and walk towards Euclid Ave. The first thing we notice is how clean Cleveland’s downtown is. Sparklingly so. We comment on this to each other, but then realize the reason for the street’s pristine state.

On this beautiful, cool autumn evening, a Saturday night, at 8 o’clock, there’s nobody else on the street! Of course the place is clean! There’s nobody to make a mess fer’cryin’outloud! I mean, new York may have some of the most disgusting sidewalks in the country, but at least there thousands of people walking on them on any given Saturday night.But, no, not here. In the 6 blocks we walk to the “restaurant row” of the city- East 4th Street, we pass perhaps a dozen people, one of whom was a panhandler. I fund this all a shame, as the downtown area has been revitalized and is obviously on the comeback. Lots of cool architecture, kitchy bars and restaurants. Just a nice city. Hopefully, it’s got more life to it in the summer.

I should mention that yes, as it got later, a crowd did start to form around the entrance to the theater for The House Of Blues, consisting mainly of the 20-something crowd, so there IS hope.

Zac and I walked down East 4th, which is a cute alleyway with lights and cobblestones. Lots of outdoor restaurants (empty on this cool evening) but inside, doing a decent business. Since we’d never actually been in a House of Blues- amazingly there is none in NYC- we went in and scarfed down some authentic corporate Southern-style cuisine. The food was at least as good as that which could be found at, oh, any Hard Rock Cafe.

We braved the crowd (yeah right) back to the hotel and sacked out for the evening. After all, we had to be up early to Rock & Roll!

After a quick buffet breakfast, we made the short walk to the R&R HOF.

We’d gotten our tickets at the hotel, so we stopped to take this photo, which, as it turns out, was the only photo we could take at the R&RHOF, as cameras are strictly forbidden inside. Apparently, taking a photo of oneself in front of Elvis’s purple Lincoln is a financial threat to the integrity of the museum’s collection.

The building itself is a spectacular pyramid, even nicer in person that the pictures suggest. We walked inside the bright airy atrium, and headed downstairs to the coat check and into the museum. We were in the lobby checking out a couple of guitar displays, and one of the docents came over, saying, “I notice you’re checking out that James Burton Telecaster. Isn’t that an amazing instrument?” He went on to talk about the guitar and its owner, the history of it and Burton’s career (lead guitarist for Elvis’s TCB band, played with Ricky Nelson, John Denver, many others, was inducted into HOF by long-time admirer Keith Richards). The docent was really knowledgeable and friendly, and his enthusiasm made me really look forward to going inside and seeing more.

We went in and sat down in the theater that begins the experience. The movie began with a nice homage to R&R’s Blues and Jazz roots, then continued to a quick history in interviews and film clips. About 15 minutes long, it was a good primer to get us in the mindset to tour the place.

The HOF has it all covered. Virtually every aspect of R&R’s history is covered, with just about every influential group you could name given its due. It’s possible Zac and I missed them, but the only groups we felt that were given “short shrift” were Led Zepplin and The Who. That being said, the “tour” begins with a walk through of the earliest history of R&R, proceeding to a large room of Elvis memorabilia, the centerpiece of which is a purple/white ‘75 Lincoln Mark IV, the requisite guitars sheet music, hotel bills, poster and such. From Elvis, we moved on to the 60s room, with an extensive Jimi Hendrix display, then on to a room that was divided by geography- showing the Rock scenes from New York, LA, Seattle. I was impressed with the New York one, of course, as I grew up here, and I was taken back to my teenage and early 20s years prowling the clubs in NYC. Seeing the NY Dolls, The Clash, Talking Heads, Blondie, The Ramones and the whole Punk era come back to life was a trip. There was some great video from what looked like CBGBs, of the Sex Pistols and Patty Smith on stage, and I was compelled to tell the story to Zac of one of the times I’d spent there. The place (CBGBs) was crowded, and I was able to get to the front of the stage as Patty Smith sang (sort of) and read her ranting poetry. What I recall was her armpit hair and the fact that, - well, let me preface this by saying I’d been spit on from stage by Johnny Rotten, hit by tossed sweat from any number of acts, but for the first time ever, I could actually smell the musical act’s body odor onstage. Patty Smith was truly Nasteeee!

Anyway, we walked through the place, coming to a nice large diorama of Beatle artifacts, and the same of The Stones. There was a small electronic section covering radio and Deejays, and it was fun to go back to hear Allison Steele (that voice!) Scott Muni, Dave Herman and Carol Miller on the headphones. Blasts from the past.

On to the other smaller dioramas of stuff from everyone from U2 to ZZ Top. Bowie, Tom Petty, Allman Brothers, Aerosmith, even Madonna. At the very top of the building pyramid was the actual Wall used by Pink Floyd in Concert, along with the giant blow up balloon of Teacher, hanging high above Pink in his motel chair in front of the crappy TV (from the movie of The Wall). Also hanging in space in the pyramid were a bunch of the Trabants from U2’s concerts.

Some more movies that they showed with various poignant moments: Chrissie Hynde talking about drugs and the road, and that so many musicians grow up as outcasts and then when they get successful, young and quickly, they’re thrust out into the world, in unfamiliar places far from home, lots of cash, hangers on and free drugs, and it’s no wonder a lot of them never make it to old age. Another was Pete Townsend opining: “Jimi’s dead, Janice is dead, Kieth, John, all these people are dead. To you they’re all icons, But to me, these people were my fucking friends. I knew them. I played with them. I miss them. It just makes me    sad.” Both these statements really humanized the whole Rock Star death syndrome.

All-in-ll, the R&RHOF is a great destination. It’s well done and covers all the bases. From history to memorabilia to technology and the music, I wasn’t disappointed with anything, except the inability to take pictures. I recommend anyone who’ into music to get there.

So Zac and I finished up in, where else? The gift shop, where I spent way too much on crap and t-shirts, but hey, ya gotta have something to remember the trip by even after the credit card bill is paid.  From there, we walked back to the hotel, got the car and headed for The Road, for the 8-hour drive back home.

“You’re going to Ohio for what?” it seemed everybody asked. You’d think that with my history of traveling for pleasure to places like Mississippi in August, people would be less surprised by Ohio in October.

But no, I had to explain myself.

“The a teen defensive driving class I’m taking my son to.”

The follow-up was always, “Aren’t there any closer to home?” Okay, if there was one closer, dontcha think I’d be going to it? Duh! But no, I’d explain, there are only classroom courses offered locally, and while yes, I could get the same insurance discount from those classroom courses, I don’t think they have the same value as an actual course behind the wheel.

As I posited to my friend Petunia, an expert horse-woman, as we returned from a riding lesson, “If I sit in a classroom and take a 4 hour horse riding lesson, and you take a 6-hour riding lesson on a horse, which one of us will be a better rider?”

So in Friday morning, Zac and I left for the 8+ hour drive from home to Mid-Ohio Raceway in Lexington Ohio. The ride, mostly on Route 80, was uneventful and we arrived at the Comfort Inn and then went to dinner at the cavernous Amish Country Inn next door.

We awoke early the next morning for the 10 minute ride to the track, We checked in and waiting in the classroom in the control tower of Mid-Ohio Raceway. Mid Ohio is an historic track- one of the premier road courses in the country, and a pretty track at that. The school runs this particular course- called the Honda Teen Defensive Driving Course- in one of the side paddock area (basically a big open parking lot). Sorry- no race track time for these teens (or me- as my insurance company informed me I’d also receive a discount for attending the school, and this particular weekend was a 2-for-1 deal, so I was also a student). The track itself was being used for a BMW club event, so our perch in the tower afforded us a nice view of the cars as they sped by us on the main straight.

At 9am, Dave Roush introduced himself, and began a discussion of car control, mainly the behavior of tires under various conditions like braking, accelerating, turning, etc. After about an hour discussing the theory of weight transfer between tire contact patches, we were led out to the paddock for some practical application.

The paddock was filled with about 20 new Honda Civic Coupes. Our class was split into 3 sections, each heading for one of the 3 areas that we’d rotate through. Zac and I went over to the slalom and lane-change area, where we all took turns being put through the cone course. The first exercise, the Slalom, which our instructor, Tom, led us through, was a series of 5 cones set about 40 feet apart. We’d slalom the cones a quickly as possible, getting the feel for the car under hard transition conditions. This “loosened us up” and got our elbows flying, showing the students how to work the wheel vigorously to avoid obstacles. Basically this was an exercise set up to drive out the fear (literally) of the car skidding or rolling out of control. From there, we progressed to the Lane-Change exercise. This was a set of cones, laid out to demarcate 3 lanes. The 3 lanes were split into tow sections, each about 50 feet long. There were 3 lights set up (red/green) at the end of the course, aligned with each lane. As we drove through the center lane of the first section, one of the lights would change, and we would quickly shift to that lane.  Zac became known as King Cone Killer, as he repeatedly tried to anticipate which lane he’d have to shift to, and would invariably guess wrong and then try to switch back. It got to be hilarious after a while. In the end, it was an exercise in reacting to stimulae, which in The Real World, Zac would never be able to anticipate. For him it was not so much a read-and-react exercise, as a how-quickly-will-the-car-turn exercise.

On to the next exercise- Wet Braking. A short run, maybe 40 yards, into a lane of cones 20 yards long with a 45-degree turn at the end. The tarmac in the braking area was wetted down and we were told to accelerate hard out of the start, then full brake in the cone lane, and turn to avoid the cones in the turn at the end. Virtually all of us had no problem with this, as all the cars were equipped with ABS (Anti-lock Braking Systems). After 3 runs or so, the instructor (Dave, now) reached into the glove box and flipped a switch, disabling the ABS. Now, as the cars hit the water, they locked their wheels and skidded straight through the cones at the turn. Dave then explained the p[roper brakign technique, feathering the brake pedal from full on, so that the wheels released and were able to turn the car as they braked and rolled simultaneously (exactly what ABS does, only faster). This exercise was valuable in teaching a disappearing skill, as more and more cars come equipped with ABS, but it is one that should still be mastered, as there are still plenty of cars that are not so equipped.

After this, it was a quick lunch, and then some more classroom time, discussing in-car distractions- cell-phones, radio, ipods, texting, GPS, friends, pets. The ugly statistics: 1 of 3 teens have an accident in their first year of driving. Add a cell phone, odds of an accident go up 500%. Add a friend, double, 2 friends. triple. 3 friends, 10x more likely to get into an accident. Basically, the more distractions, the more likely an untoward event. Obvious to everyone. But it rarely changes teen behavior.

After an hour, it was back out to the paddock, and our turn in “The Skid Car.”  This is a Civic with a set of outriggers attached to the suspension. On each outrigger is a hydraulically actuated caster-type wheel that can spin in any direction. The hydraulics can vary the amount of weight each corner of the car loads on each tire, so driving car is very much like driving on ice. We took tunrs- each driving bout 10 minutes, in the car with former Formula One driver Tony Hill, who instucted us on feeding in the gas ever-so-slowly and smoothly to keep the car headed in the direction we wanted. We guided the car aorund a small course painted on the tarmac, often in full oposite lock, learning how to control the car in a skid, learning to keep our eyes in the direction we want the car to go. Very instructive.

At the end of the day, we were all given our diplomas, with the warning to use our newfound powers only for Good, and not Evil. That we wre all now more skilled than 95% of all the drivers on the road.

While I can’t speak for the percentages, I do know that this course will have been worth every penny if Zac, when (and I do say when) he is at the wheel of a car that is beginning to lose its grip on the road, that he isn’t automatically propelled into Teen-Panic Mode, and is able to keep his wits about him and safely get the car back under control, or at least minimize the damage or carnage in an unavoidable encounter. I recommend this course to all parents.

We said our goodbyes, and headed for the next stop on our Tour of Ohio: the Big C- Cleveland!

See next post for details…

My prediction: 55%