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11
Jun 12

About Saturday night (and tonight, too)

Talked about the Saturday night shooting on the radio this morning. You can hear that here. I’ve gotten out of the habit of listening to myself, so I won’t listen with you. And I’ve talked so much, too much, about the shooting on Twitter that I don’t care to do too muchh of it here.

This is all so unbearably sad. Three kids dead. (One of them a father of two, another a father of one it seems.) All of them with their lives ahead of them. Three more shot. One in critical condition with a head wound. All of them under 21. A suspect at large. And there is no good reason for any of it.

Chief of the Auburn Police Department, Tommy Dawson, holds up a picture of suspect Desmonte Leonard for the media:

The story goes on. The manhunt has shifted to Montgomery, the hometown of the police’s suspect. There are nine agencies involved in the search. Two have been arrested for hindering prosecution. We spent the night watching television, thinking they’ve got the suspect holed up in a house in east Montgomery. (Update: No one was there, after eight hours of waiting, surrounding and inch-by-inch searching in a tear gas-filled attic.)

So several families are in the height of grief. A community wonders how this could happen int heir home. A person is on the run. Some stories you just wish didn’t happen, but this one has only gotten started.

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29
May 12

More hodges to podge over

We rode around the city yesterday morning. The Yankee was doing another brick, a training exercise designed to simulate an upcoming duathlon. She swam and biked. I don’t swim in laps, so I waited until she was done and followed her around town.

It was warm, but still morning, so the air was filled with this crisp feeling of not-too-warm which, really, is just the way we internalize the I-hope-it-doesn’t-get-too-hot feeling.

We rode the city’s bypass and then cruised around the outside of the airport, by a new church that is going up and then that long, last, slow, supple hill before home. Just as we pulled into the neighborhood I reached this on my odometer:

That’s for the season. I’m a few hundred miles behind where I want to be. But I’ll catch up.

Sunday afternoon I got out for an afternoon, heat of the day ride.

“Couldn’t you have ridden later?” my lovely bride asked. I think she was concerned about my health and well being in the way that people that care about you have. It was sweet, but halting. Is this really sensible?

Well, yes. Because, you see, I was gassed the other day when I went out for a ride on the first real warm day of the season. And that shouldn’t be happening to me. There are plenty of times when I don’t have the legs or the form or the fitness. I’ll accept those shortcomings as physiology or just the bad day of a bad cyclist. But I live in heat and humidity. This stuff shouldn’t bother me like it did that day, and so, yes, I will ride in the heat, because that can be overcome.

Also I drink a lot of fluids.

So I rode in 96-degree temperatures on Sunday, and I was pleased with that. When the mercury really spikes, I’ll be riding then, too. But you have to survive the 90s first.

My gloves, as of today, now have 2,100 miles on them:

I wonder what the lifespan of gloves should be. These feel like they are getting up there in age.

Watched Austin City Limits tonight. Usually, when I catch it, I’ll have it on as background noise to feel good about my thin appreciation of the arts. “Musicians I’m not entirely familiar with!” Sometimes, though, you get good pop tunes. And sometimes there’s a bit of international flavor:

Watch Mumford & Sons / Flogging Molly on PBS. See more from Austin City Limits.

Flogging Molly played the second set. Their second or third song they started like this: “This next song celebrates the life of over 100,000 Irish people shipped to Barbados as slaves. Let’s dance in their honor.”

Well, yeah, naturally.

I trimmed the hedges today. Some of them. It was the high point of the day’s heat, and so naturally I was outside sculpting away and fussing with garbage bags full of leaf leavings. I trimmed and cleaned a dozen. That’s not half the property.

The back and the side will just have to wait. There’s only so much you can feel like doing in one day.

A few doors down someone had their lawn guys hard at work. They wrapped up whatever they were doing as I struggled along, thinking, I’d hire someone to do it, but there are no artisan hedge trimmers in town.

And you need an artist for this job. We’re not doing sculptures, mind you, but there’s a lot going on. On one side they have to stay below a retaining wall. In the flower bed they have to be kept just so, seeing that they don’t dominate the roses and hydrangeas. The flowering shrubs need to be worked in such a way as to leave the flowers still showing vibrantly.

The two bushes that frame the garage present special problems. One is over a perennial flower bed and trying to remove clipped leaves from the ground there would be madness. The other one needs an extra curve to accommodate the side mirror of the car as it enters and exits the garage. The two shrubs that stand sentry at the end of the drive need to be kept close, allowing for a good turning radius. One of those is swallowing up the mailbox. I’d let it grow over and frame the thing, but I doubt the nice lady who delivers our bills and junk mail would approve. There are another series of shrubs that conceal all the utility boxes, and that sits on the property line. I want to help my neighbor, but not cut back his shrubs so much that he dislikes my efforts.

And that doesn’t get us around the side where someone, at some point, thought “You know, shrubs of varying sizes. That’s what this long wall needs.”

I’d like to meet that person. I’d like to shake their hand and tell them how wrong they were about that.

Anyone watch Sherlock? I finished the second series last night and I’m trying to figure out the big season-ending cliffhanger. Want to help? Here’s the entire final segment, including the brilliant work of Andrew Scott who treats Moriarty like a manic personality with great results:

Watch Sherlock: The Reichenbach Fall on PBS. See more from Masterpiece.

Good stuff, no?

The Guardian is writing about it, quoting the writer that everyone is missing a big clue. They are writing quite a bit about it. There are hundreds of fan theories.

Someone taped a thoughtful six minute video detailing the Holmes conspiracy:

That’s not the only one of those such videos, by the way, but that one is particular well thought out. The truck with the garbage bags is key. I’ve watched this scene three or four times now — it is especially tense and moving — and the last of it in slow motion a bit too. That truck seems almost like a continuity error, though.

Time warp: Old Auburn football pictures from The Anniston Star can be found here. There are lots of great images form the 70s, 80s and early 90s in there.

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26
May 12

A podge of hodges

I want to tell you that my family is full of good cooks. My mother, when we were young could invent dishes out of random extra things that would make your mouth water. When she has the proper ingredients she’s quite incredible. She may not have a green thumb, but if you grow something and put it in her kitchen she well make you one of the better meals you’ve had in a good long while.

One of my grandmothers is also a good cook. My grandparents raised a large garden that was essentially subsistence farming. Only, when I was young, I got tired of all those vegetables of course. Now I’d love to see that farm back in action for some creamed corn and various other things we pulled out of the ground.

My other grandmother is not a bad cook, either. People disagree on this, but I think she’s a fine cook. But that could be the grandmother, oldest-grandchild thing. (I’m her favorite. Just ask.)

All of this leads me to one of those curious things in life that we never think about until it is forced upon us. What if something you’ve always eaten is not so very good? For instance, God bless the fine cooks in my family, but they will bake a turkey dry as a dusty road at Thanksgiving.

I never knew what turkey was supposed to taste like until The Yankee cooked one the first fall we dated. Sometime after that her father was telling the story of how, as a boy, he didn’t know what a hamburger was supposed to be like. His mother burned them and then cooked them some more. It took eating at a friend’s to learn what he’d been missing.

It is a good tale, and the full version of that story is great, but that seemed silly to me until I considered the turkey example of my own culinary experiences.

Similar to my family’s apparent hatred of delicate turkey meat, there’s also a big bias against pork chops. I’m not sure what it is, maybe my grandmothers thought you needed to cook them at lunch and again at dinner, just to be sure any germs were dead. Perhaps we distracted them too much in the kitchen. Could have been anything, but even as a kid I knew that my lovely, saintly, giving and patient grandmothers respective pork chops didn’t taste good. I think I was in my mid-20s before I had a good one.

All of the above to say, if you’re not grilling your pork chops, friend, your missing out.

Had a too-hot ride yesterday. Last weekend we reversed a route we occasionally take and I found it grueling in the sense that I wanted to do it again. I thought I could easily improve my time on the trip. Only it was much, much warmer and I found myself questioning the wisdom of all of this within about 10 miles.

I struggled through it though, happy to see a gas station about four miles from home. I stopped for a drink, and this must be regular enough now that they don’t even think twice about bikes being walked into the store.

They have a picnic area to one side of the story and a porch swing on the other side. I sat in the swing for a few minutes to have a drink and top off my bottles. I was only four miles from home, but this was the first truly hot riding of the year.

A man walked out of the store and playfully chastised me for stopping. He had the easy, friendly face that makes you think you’ve seen him before. Maybe you’re supposed to know that guy.

“You aren’t supposed to be taking a break,” he said.

“No” I smiled, “but it is warm out here.”

“Yes it is. You’ll fall out!”

The heat index was about 95 at the time. It was not a strain to believe it, either.

So I came home, dropped the last few miles I had in mind because, as I came up the big hill I realized there were no cars behind me. I could move to the center and then duck into the neighborhood without a problem. And that thought made me so happy I leaned on my handlebars and took the 90 degree turn.

It was only 18 miles, but it was hot. But still, I thought, 18 miles.

And then I read this:

Tamae Watanabe, 73, beat her own age record for an Everest climb by a woman set 10 years ago. She also recovered from an accident in 2005 in which she broke her back and feared she would never climb again.

“It was much more difficult for me this time,” Watanabe told reporters Friday after returning to Nepal’s capital, Katmandu, from the mountain. “I felt I was weaker and had less power. This time it was certainly different. I felt that I had gotten old.”

She reached Everest’s summit from the Tibetan side on May 19, at the age of 73 years and 180 days.

That was properly deflating.

Things here are just fine. We’ve finally had to shut the windows and turn the air conditioning on. We’re to the point of the season where you have to start thinking strategically about when you want to do things like, work in the yard, heavy exertion or breathing.

Grilled tonight, watched the second game of the 2010 Auburn football season on DVD. I received the complete championship season as a Christmas gift and they’re becoming regular summer weekend viewing. I hope the Tigers win.

I thought I should take notes to see if and how and when the announcers started trying to talk differently about Cam Newton. So far, after two games against lesser opponents (sorry, State fans) they’ve been properly deferential. The in-game tone may not change, but if you’ll think back the commentary overall got very nasty.

It is great to see this team play though, and as I said tonight, to do so without having to worry about the outcome. There were a few points that season where they were almost defeated. There were moments when you just thought it was all going to come undone because that’s just the way of it. But, knowing they kept it together and defeated everyone, knowing they survived the biggest smear job this side of the classic 1960s Bryant-Butts piece, the feel of it is altogether different.

Watching Cam Newton play in retrospect, I wrote on Twitter, is like knowing the end to the world’s best sonnet.

What I’m saying is that the guy was like poetry. He was pure, violent, graceful poetry. Pure, violent, graceful, championship poetry.

One of the things I have to do this weekend is eat an entire watermelon. We’ll be out of space in the fridge, otherwise. It is ridiculously good, the first of the season and seedless — despite the presence of seeds. I ate a big portion of it last night and the middle of it today.

Still plenty left, if anyone is interested.

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20
May 12

Baseball weirdness

I never played baseball, but no matter what sport you might have been involved in you always heard the coach yelling at you about keeping your head in the game.

Or maybe that was just me.

Anyway, here’s an example of that. This is the penultimate example of poor base running. The situation: Justin Shafer is standing on third base in the fourth inning yesterday as Florida led Auburn 3-2. A ground ball turned into a fielder’s choice when Shafer ran home.

The infielder threw to the catcher and Shafer pulled up short:

The catcher, Caleb Bowen, almost dropped the ball.

The baserunner patiently stood by while Bowen spun, dropped down and leaped to his feet. Shafer looked up:

No doubt someone in the dugout was by now bursting a blood vessel yelling at him.

Bowen tagged him out.

Florida would score a few moments later in the fourth, extending their lead to 4-2. But it should have been 5-2, at least. And this little play helped determine the outcome.

And, oddly, it was only the second-worst thing we’ve seen on the field this year. There’s also the tale of the baserunner who tried to steal second standing up …

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19
May 12

The throw is on target …

Today was Senior Day for Auburn baseball. The last game of the regular season. The Tigers, battling a host of injuries and displaying plenty of talented young players, are the 10th and last seed in next week’s SEC Tournament in Hoover, Ala. They’ve dropped two in a row to second-ranked Florida.

But today the sun was brilliant, the temperatures were warm without being overbearing. Eight young men had their name called as seniors and were given handsomely framed jerseys to commemorate their time playing for Auburn. Two trainers were similarly honored for all of their efforts.

And before the first pitch one of the players proposed to his girlfriend. She said yes. Someone in the crowd yelled “War Damn Wedding!”

So you never know.

Senior Caleb Bowen had just one hit, but as catcher he figured into this game plenty:

Auburn’s ace pitcher, Derek Varnadore was on the mound:

The senior has had a tough year of it. He led the team last year in wins, innings and strikeouts, making him the first Auburn pitcher to collect all three in more than a decade. He turned down a pro contract for his senior year, but things just haven’t worked out as he’d hoped. He found himself in the bullpen recently, but his name was called today. He scattered 10 runs across seven innings, allowing three earned runs and striking out three

Auburn trailed early, 3-0 in the second, and by the fifth inning it was 4-2.

In the seventh inning, still staring at a 4-2 deficit, Auburn collected three singles. The bases were loaded for another senior, Creede Simpson. He pushed in a run on a fielder’s choice. The lead was cut to 4-3. A few moments later, with runners on second and third, designated hitter Justin Bryant dug into the batter’s box:

And the senior created one of your more remarkable plays in baseball:

A ground ball to second that scored two runs? Fans were doing defiant muscle poses in the stands. Take that, Florida. Auburn took a 5-4 lead in the seventh, scoring three runs on four hits.

And then Bryant, as he’s done once or twice this year, went from driving in the potential game-winning RBI to working to collect a save out of the bullpen. He pitched a hitless eighth in relief for Varnadore. He returned for the final frame, which unfolded in high drama.

Florida’s leadoff batter was the first man up in the ninth. He grounded out to second. The next man to the plate singled to right field. There was a double to left. Auburn held a one-run lead in the ninth inning with one out and two runners in scoring position.

Don’t forget the injuries. The left fielder went down two weeks ago with a knee. The right fielder left this game early with a thumb. Auburn’s first baseman was in the dugout because of a oblique muscle injury. The shortstop didn’t start this game. The second baseman is now playing right field.

And so it was that a Gator named Brian Johnson, who has five home runs, 34 RBIs and a .313 batting average licked his lips and lobbed a ball into short right field.

Creede Simpson, who has played second all year but is in right field now because of an injury, made the catch for the second out. Now screaming down the line from third is Florida’s offensive statistical leader, Preston Tucker.

But Tucker forgot this was Senior Day. And Simpson long-hopped a ball to Bowen at the plate.

Auburn won 5-4. Here’s the play, with the Auburn Network’s Rod Bramblett making the call:

Senior Caleb Bowen got the putout. Senior Creede Simpson turned a season-ending double play from right. He also scored the winning run. Senior Justin Bryant got the save and the game-winning RBI. Senior Derek Varnadore got the win.

For those three innings, a struggling team were world beaters. They finished their regular season mobbing each other in right field with a 30-26, 13-17 record.

And now all they have to do is go to Hoover and … face Florida again in the first round of the tournament.

Tomorrow: Pictures of the second strangest thing I’ve seen in baseball all year.