Author: Michael Brown

There’s No Wicking in Baseball!

As a runner, I’ve become hooked on so-called “wicking” fabrics like Coolmax and Nike’s Dri-Fit. The stuff uses capillary action to draw moisture away from the skin and toward the outside of the garment where it can harmlessly evaporate, leaving one cooler, drier and less chafed. And if you’ve ever gone running in 90 degree weather while wearing 100% cotton, you know what a big, bloody problem chafing can be (I’ll spare you the gory details).

But et tu baseball?

As USA Today reports, Major League Baseball has announced that beginning opening day this year, players will be tossing aside their wool caps for a newer high-tech, moisture-wicking polyester blend lid that, in theory at least, will keep players drier and more comfortable on the field.… Read the rest

Huntsville, Alabama–Hollywood Down South

There is almost a European-like energy here where everyone was not just friendly, but engaged. I suddenly had this revelation that what I had put on page actually existed and it was Huntsville, Alabama.

–Jordan Walker-Pearlman, director of the movie “Constellation”

My first exposure to Huntsville, Alabama was in the James Michener novel Space. Having previously lived in Birmingham and Nashville prior to moving to Huntsville in 1993, I can recall thinking that myspace-and-rocket-center.jpg adopted hometown was just a touch too tame. I mean after you’ve visited the U.S. Space and Rocket Center and stood at the base of that 363 foot Saturn V rocket which sits beside I-565, what else is there to do?… Read the rest

Prophecy or Hex?

A few days ago on this blog, JRB issued his chilling jeremiad vis a vis the haughty Gators:

Very often in the course of human history, as Ecclesiastes teaches, the wicked are elevated while the righteous are made to suffer. We see in scripture that God favors the oppressed while Satan tempts the evil with dominance over others and the promise of great riches and temporal prestige.

We learned in the enlightenment that power corrupts and that absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Behold the University of Florida Gators. Dread the day of your judgment.

I don’t know about you, but I’m going to try to stay on JRB’s good side.… Read the rest

Souvenirs

Number Three Son recently returned from a golfing trip with his grandparents. They traveled around Florida and up into southern coastal Georgia hitting a few courses and making a few tourist stops along the way.

And of course, when there’s a trip, souvenirs usually follow. Number Three thoughtfully killed two birds with one stone, combining my love of both kitschy knickknacks and coffee into this particular winner:

mug.jpg
But the one that really floated my boat (or submerged it in this case), was this:

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As it turns out, Number Three visited the St. Mary’s Submarine Museum in Georgia and found a patch with my Dad’s old boat, the USS Cubera.… Read the rest

Yawp! We’ve Got a Pulse!

I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

–Walt Whitman

For a while it was Boston Tea Party II, but an Eagle run made it relatively close in the end. But still, we’ve got a pulse and the topsy-turvy ACC is shaken up a bit more. Perhaps all that talk of Duke being “on the bubble” hath been overdone.

Now I’ll have to turn right around and pull for BC against Carolina on Saturday–this is all very confusing.

To Number Two Son, who apparently became quite concerned over my health and that of other family members when my upper brain shut down as Duke’s 24-point lead dwindled to six and I began rearranging the family room furniture, I offer these words:

Next time, duck a little quicker.… Read the rest

O! Must We Be So Predictable?

cupid_psyche.jpgEyegal and I love each other a lot. If you read that Washington Post article from yesterday, you’ll know what I mean when I say that we’re cruising along, kicking up a fair amount of oxytocin with some frequent dopamine now and then to spice things up. In short, I ain’t complainin’ and neither is she (I hope).

But when it comes to the whole Valentine Day’s thing, we just refuse to get too worked up after nearly 22 years of raising kids and romance-in-the-trenches. In days of yore, we used to knock ourselves out, buying the cards, roses, lacy teddies and tacky boxers, etc.… Read the rest

Dirty (Duke) Business

I know some of you are sitting around salivating over the prospect of my mentioning this, so I thought I would go ahead and get the dirty (Duke) business over with.

I might add, as if it weren’t as obvious as a Tar Heel working the French fry machine at McDonald’s, that this wouldn’t even be news if Duke wasn’t so stinkin’ good year in and year out anyway.

So, what does a loyal fan do when his beloved team tanks in February? He sucks it up and passes right through the fire with them. ‘Tis always darkest before the dawn.… Read the rest

Run Eyeguy! Run!

That day, for no particular reason, I decided to go for a little run. So I ran to the end of the road. And when I got there, I thought maybe I’d run to the end of town. And when I got there, I thought maybe I’d just run across Greenbow County. And I figured, since I run this far, maybe I’d just run across the great state of Alabama. And that’s what I did. I ran clear across Alabama.

–Forrest Gump.

I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure.

… Read the rest

Duke Forever

dukebluedevilszh.GIFOh well, one out of two ain’t bad.

UNC’s Lady Heels ran into a whole “latta” trouble last night on their home floor, losing 64-53 to the Lady Devils in a battle of unbeatens. At 25-0, the Duke women now must do what they have been unable to before–close things out in the Final Four. I have a feeling that this is their year.

It’s probably no coincidence that one of Duke’s best players has the last name of Harding. It wouldn’t be the first time that sort of convergence has taken place.

He-devils or she-devils, it makes no difference to me.… Read the rest

In the Hands of The Man Upstairs

He was a Vietnam vet with more than a few miles under the hood. The deep lines of his stubbly face and the sad, saggy eyes bespoke a hardscrabble life and many nights of facing off against Charlie in his dreams.

His vest, with its sleeves shorn from a regulation BDU, was festooned with a motley assortment of buttons, patches and pins:

“God Bless America”

“God, Duty, Country”

“POW*MIA–You Are Not Forgotten”

His automated wheelchair, likewise, was tattooed with various Marine Corps and patriotic stickers. There were two small American flags, one on each armrest, flying proud and strong.

The cigarettes that had helped keep Charlie at bay all these years had left deep and debilitating scars on his lungs, and the nicotine stained tubing from his supplemental oxygen tank looped around his chair, across his weathered face, and into his nostrils, allowing for short, labored breaths.… Read the rest