Baltimore – Regular Guy

Book Review: The Boys Are Back

brian — Mon, 17 Oct 2016 14:30:21 +0000

Growing up a sports-obsessed teen in the early 1980s, I have distinct memories of the Dunbar basketball team. I never saw them play in person, but I read dozens of stories about them (Baltimore had three daily papers back then, and I read each sports section cover to cover) and watched them on the news.

I knew about how the Poets could get the city’s best players to transfer in because of the schools dental studies program. I knew how Reggie Lewis had to swallow pride and be the sixth man. I knew how people had to see Muggsy Bogues in action to believe him.

That’s why I snapped up The Boys of Dunbar: A Story of Love, Hope, and Basketball by Alejandro Danois recently. The book takes readers through Dunbar’s 1981-82 season, the one that introduced them to basketball fans across the country. They had already cemented their iconic status in Baltimore with their battles with Calvert Hall (my high school’s rival, so I always took Dunbar’s side) before this season, but Bob Wade’s team hit the road to make even more people realize how good East Baltimore could play.

I sailed through the book. They have really engaging anecdotes from the key figures on the team, spelling out the challenges the players faced both off the court and as part of a super team coached by a disciplinarian like Wade. While the story is essentially an uplifting one, punches are not pulled as the players – now all successful adults – cop to the teenage hijinks that took place during the season.

I really enjoyed reading some of the inside baseball that I did not know. For instance, I had no idea that Lewis – who died in 1993 from a congenital heart problem that he likely knew about, but hid from people – transferred to Dunbar for the ’81-82 season after he was cut as a sophomore from the team at Patterson High School. Imagine a player confident enough to say, “I didn’t make that team so I am going to the best team in the city to show them!”

Bogues also dealt with issues from his previous school. An administrative error kept him from enrolling at Dunbar in 1980, leaving him at Southern High School with a lot of anger. His arrival at Dunbar the next year filled the gap Wade thinks kept the team from upsetting Calvert Hall the previous year. The book does a great job showing the family issues Bogues had to deal with and how the used the way people reacted to his 5-foot-3 frame as fuel to become a game changer.

We also learn about personal issues David Wingate carried on his shoulders during the season and how players from competing recreation centers around the city came together to prove that Dunbar could rise to the top.

If I have any quibble, it comes with the parts where Danois writes about the Dunbar-Calvert Hall rivalry. First off, he refers to them as Calvert on more than one occasion. That never happens. They are Calvert Hall. Calvert is a high school in southern Maryland. Secondly, while he gets the part about Calvert Hall ducking Dunbar correct, he doesn’t delve into the back story as to why that mattered in Baltimore.

Public school sports are run in Maryland are run by a state-affiliated agency – the Maryland Public Secondary Schools Athletic Association (MPSSAA). This is the group that runs state championship events.

However, up until 1994, Baltimore City schools did not belong to the MPSSAA. They were part of the Maryland Scholastic Association, a sports organization comprised of city schools and area Catholic and private schools. I grew up watching (and later competing in) MSA sports where kids from the city brushed shoulders with kids living in mansions. It was a pretty unique arrangement that provided an awesome experience.

The only exception was basketball. Back in the 1970s, the Catholic schools pulled out of the MSA basketball competition because of some controversial games, including one involving Dunbar and Mt. St. Joe (where all my brothers attended school). The Catholic League formed in 1972, taking away regular-season basketball matchups between schools like Dunbar and Calvert Hall.

So the way Calvert Hall coach Mark Amatucci ducked Dunbar had even more meaning when the people in Baltimore knew that those two schools had the chance to compete alongside each other in many other sports. This wasn’t just about a good Catholic school ducking a good public school. This was about the Catholic schools not wanting to play the city schools in basketball at all.

I think adding in that flavor and maybe exposing the rift between the (mostly black) city schools and (mostly white, except for some athletes) Catholic schools would have helped explain why not getting a chance to play Calvert Hall rankled the Dunbar folks so much. Otherwise, this is a great look at a pretty special time in Baltimore sports history.

Shaken, Not Stirred

brian — Mon, 13 May 2013 12:51:53 +0000

Sometimes you hear news which you know really doesn’t affect the world too much, but makes you stop and pause because of how it affects your world.

That’s how I felt a couple of weeks ago when one of my oldest friends in the world posted that the place where we worked at teenagers had closed its doors for good.

From the fall of 1984 to early 1992 (off and on, of course), I worked at Oasis, one of the permanent kiosks in Baltimore’s Harborplace. We sold fresh lemonade, Italian ice and plenty of other drinks, making the shop pretty popular on hot summer days.

One of my neighbors – the father of Paul, the guy who told me about the closing – started the business with a friend of his. That connection helped me get the job when I turned 16. I already knew most of the crew either from growing up or because my sister worked there so it made sense.

Paul’s family eventually got out of the ownership side, but I had plunged full long into the Oasis culture by then. I worked there year-round during high school, during all my breaks in college and even picked up a bunch of hours there when I found myself out of a job a year after college.

In fact, Oasis was my last job before I moved to Hanover to work for the paper more than 20 years ago. It’s kind of a bridge between my time in Baltimore and the life I have now.

Those days provided me with a lot of good memories. We had some amazingly busy stretches when you had trouble conceiving how many people had lined up for a cup of fresh-squeezed lemonade. But, like all jobs, those times helped build the relationships, some of which continue today.

I learned how to calculate the price of an order – complete with sales tax – in my head because of my time at the Oasis. I helped develop my sense of humor as I tried to impress co-workers and customers with one-liners. I even learned to flip a cup of lemonade attached to a shaker into the air, a la Tom Cruise in “Cocktail.”

This was the 1980s after all. I won’t even get into some of the fashion choices we made. Let’s just say my bright green corduroy OP shorts worked perfectly with our yellow work t-shirts.

I guess it’s appropriate that a place which meant so much to me in my formative years would shut its doors as I reached peak sentimentality in my mid-40s. I do keep in touch with some people I worked with, but I don’t with many, many others. That made me reflect some.

But mainly I thought about how I would tell people I had to work over spring break or put in long hours over the summer because I needed the money when, in reality, I also did it because I had so much fun working at Oasis.

Now it’s all in the past. All I have left are some inside jokes, a hat or two buried somewhere in the attic and the knowledge that half a lemon, two tablespoons or sugar, water and ice can do a lot more than quench your thirst.

Regular Guy’s Afternoon Off

brian — Mon, 29 Apr 2013 14:27:15 +0000

I think everyone has wanted their own Ferris Bueller moment. You know, the day when you simply throw all your cares away and grab life by the scruff of the neck instead of going through your daily business.

That didn’t happen last week, but I did indulge myself in some of the movie character’s shenanigans. I went to a noon-time baseball game down in Baltimore.

The whole escapade bore little resemblance to what you see in the movies. I arranged for the afternoon off well in advance, I didn’t go with any friends, and I certainly did not tool around in a priceless sports car on my way to Oriole Park.

I didn’t even catch a foul ball.

But I did enjoy a warm, sunny day, eat a couple of hot dogs and savor an adult beverage. I also ran into two old friends and caught up with them.

That beats a day of work in my book.

Ironically, I read an article earlier in the day where an executive preached the importance of disconnecting from our connected lives from time to time. He spent nine days on vacation without a cell phone, tablet or computer. He didn’t even read the newspaper.

Now I don’t think all of us need to go that far, but I think the idea of simply throwing caution to the wind and having some time to ourselves makes a ton of sense.

I did have my phone with me because I don’t have to constantly check my e-mail and such when I take some time off. The secret for me lies in disconnecting mentally, not physically.

I didn’t worry that no one I knew could go to the game. An out-of-town friend had initially intended to visit during the day, but had to push his plans back. Siblings either couldn’t get off of work or had other plans. Friends envied me for getting the afternoon off.

So I had no problem settling into a seat by myself and getting ready for a great American tradition. I watch sports alone often enough on television so I didn’t see much difference. I don’t think we need to have a crowd around us at all times.

Still, I enjoyed it when a grade school friend swung by my seat. He saw a post on Facebook where I let people know where I would be and decided to come by. We spent several innings catching up and reminiscing.

Then I saw a former co-worker post a picture on Facebook of his view and realized he had sat down a few rows ahead of me in the great quest to find the perfect seat that you didn’t want to pay for. We also chatted for a while.

I ended up catching the last few innings (and the disappointing 11^th-inning resolution) solo in a seat a couple dozen rows behind home plate. On the ride home, the disappointment of an Orioles loss could not overwhelm the satisfaction of the enjoyable experience.

The O’s have two more midweek afternoon games. The York Revolution and Harrisburg Senators each have a handful of late-morning or early-afternoon games (mainly aimed at schools and summer camps). Why not carve out some time for yourself and enjoy a game?

Oriole Memories

brian — Wed, 30 Jan 2013 13:28:14 +0000

Like with most things, I discovered the news from my friends online. I don’t know whether I first saw the announcement on Twitter or Facebook, but I learned Earl Weaver had died when I checked in to see if anyone had posted any funny pictures while I was busy.

I try not to get caught up in hero worship so I didn’t have an immediate visceral reaction to the news. Weaver was 82 years old. He lived a good, long life. I couldn’t get too sad over the death of someone I never met, but one other emotion did take over.

Nostalgia.

Some of the best times I had growing up related to Baltimore’s baseball team. Weaver played a big role because I could, for some reason, relate to a short, temperamental person born on August 14. Sharing a birthday with the manager of my favorite team always made me smile for some silly reason.

Weaver also had a story that I could relate to. He never made it to the major leagues and eventually channeled his passion for the game into managing. The chip on his shoulder might have come from knowing he missed reaching his dream by just one step.

I never had a chance to even sniff the minor leagues, and can’t say that my life paralleled Earl Weaver’s in any way, shape or form, but I did learn some lessons as I obsessively followed the team in my elementary school days.

Back then, baseball was a family affair for me. Both my parents grew up avid fans of the game, and they passed that down. Sometimes, a whole bunch of us would plan for a night at Memorial Stadium, but more often than not, we would go to a game on a lark because you could always find a seat in the bleachers.

We would dissect the decision to play Cal Ripken at shortstop and debate the merits of the new rookie who had appeared in the bullpen. So many great Oriole pitchers started their careers that way, we always had hope that another legend would grow before our very eyes.

At the same time, the team resembled a family in a way teams just don’t seem to anymore. This could sound like a (getting older) guy complaining about the good ol’ days in sports, but that’s really not the point. I understand why things have changed for pro athletes.

That doesn’t mean that the era I grew up in didn’t affect me. I could go to games with my older brothers for a pretty low price and watch a bunch of guys who really seemed to care about each other led by a guy who I could relate to on some superficial level.

I don’t know if that can happen again. I carry as much of the blame as the current atmosphere in pro sports. My days of covering sports as a reporter along with my coaching and officiating experience make it hard for me to get too wrapped up in things anymore. I really enjoy the games, but just can’t invest the love and hate I used to.

That’s why I smiled a little inside when I thought about Earl Weaver last week. I’m glad I have those memories.

The Magic Has Returned

brian — Tue, 04 Sep 2012 17:31:38 +0000

As I got ready for work the other day, I spotted something hidden behind a chair in our computer. Once I realized what it was, I knew I had to make a change.

So I found an empty nail in the wall and hung the frame which held some special memories for me. I figured with the Baltimore Orioles actually in the hunt for the playoffs, I could return the tickets for the final three games at Memorial Stadium, the first game at Oriole Park and the 1993 All-Star Game back to a place of prominence.

Growing up, few things meant as much to me as my hometown’s baseball team. I grew up in a house filled with baseball fans and have distinct memories of cheering the Birds on during those glory days.

When I went away to a sleepover wrestling camp for the first time, my father gave me a tiny battery-operated radio which I could use to sooth any homesickness (didn’t work – I had a rough week) and keep up with the scores.

Most Oriole fans have memories of the June 22, 1979 game when a home run by Doug Decinces capped a comeback win, a game credited for giving birth to the notion of “Orioles Magic.” I have clearer memories of the doubleheader a day later which featured a pair of comeback wins. We had a family cookout night (eating between games of course) and gathered around the radio en masse to listen those final innings.

During the spring of my junior year in college, a friend kept warning me the hot start for the O’s would come to an end. When we got back to school in the fall of 1989 for our final year, he had to admit that the “Why Not?” team had proved him wrong.

My love for the team has honest origins, but so do the reasons I have drifted away in recent years. Family, work, the way Peter Angelos has run the team and many other factors have conspired to make me only follow the Birds from a distance.

But something has changed this year. The promise of young players fans have heard of for so long has actually panned out. No one has blown out their arm or come down to earth after an ungodly performance early in the season. They have had the kind of luck every winning team needs.

This has allowed me to proudly embrace my fair-weather fan status. I used to just kind of keep up with the team when I heard others bring them up in conversation. True to my constant also-ran status in my fantasy baseball league, I would nod and smile and pretend I really understood what was happening with the team.

Now I make sure to watch a few innings here and there, sometimes even catching most of a game. I have started to yell at the TV when something good happens. I might even open up my wallet and go see a game, through gritted teeth since I still can’t stand the owner.

But most of all I will rekindle those memories from when I moved heaven and earth so I could see that final series at the old stadium, spending the final game surrounded by strangers three rows from the top of the upper deck behind home plate. Something magic has indeed happened.

Opening Day Musings

brian — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 13:18:07 +0000

Once upon a time, I worshiped this day. My parents would get me out of school on Opening Day so I could head down to 33rd Street – just a few blocks from my current office – and watch the Orioles open the baseball season. Baltimore always opened at home, and I pretty much always went.

Over time, Opening Day and baseball in general have diminished in importance in my life. I still play in a fantasy baseball league, but enjoy the social aspect more than following the sport. It’s no surprise why I finish in the middle to bottom of the pack each year.

A lot of things have influenced this change in my life over the past 10-15years. I still followed the Orioles closely in the late 1990s when they had some pretty good teams. I covered the team off and on for the paper in Hanover where I worked until 1998.

But then we had a kid. And I started a day job which required a long commute. And Peter Angelos started running the Orioles with the same skill I ran my fantasy league team. There was a strike. Bud Selig took over the league. Soccer slowly crept into my life.

I didn’t walk away from baseball and move towards soccer as some sort of protest. I had followed MLS in the late 1990s, but not as crazily as I did in the beginning of the next decade. I found lots of ways to follow soccer on the Internet and met lots of great friends that way. Little by little, baseball receded into the background.

That doesn’t mean I don’t care. I enjoyed seeing the Orioles gain some measure of success last year. I do try my best to put together a strong team in my fantasy league even if I don’t have the time or interest to obsess over potential players. The sport had too much of a hold on me in my youth for me to walk away completely.

So Opening Day may not mean the same thing it did when I was 11, and I watched the Birds begin their march to the World Series with a 5-3 win over the White Sox. At least I think I went to that game. On Opening Day, facts don’t always matter because a new season is built for boasts and exaggerations. That’s why I have a some hope that the O’s will actually contend and I might threaten for my first fantasy league title in almost 20 years in this league.

Play Ball!

Feeling Cleveland

brian — Fri, 03 Dec 2010 21:31:38 +0000

Sports can bring out some less than rational actions. I don’t get it when people turn violent over the outcome of a game, but I can understand how it will twist up all other kinds of emotions. Take last night’s NBA game in Cleveland for example.

LeBron James, in case you have lived under a rock recently, played his first game in Cleveland since he publicly declared he was “taking his talents to South Beach” in order to play for the Miami Heat instead of re-signing with the Cavs. The struggling Heat won, but the crowd rode James for the entire night, directing boos and creative chants at the star.

Some may consider this behavior juvenile, but I can’t cast a stone in the direction of the fans who vented their spleens at that game. You see, I was one of them a long time ago. On September 11, 1983, I went to the now-demolished Memorial Stadium in Baltimore and chanted “Elway Sucks” for what seems like four hours when Hall of Fame quarterback John Elway brought the Denver Broncos to play the Colts, just a few months after refusing to play in my hometown.

I was 15 at the time and went to the game with my oldest brother and my oldest nephew, who was just 8 at the time. I will never forget the gleeful look on his face as he chanted along with the crowd, knowing this was the reward for going out with two uncles instead of his parents.

I didn’t really think of the game until i started watching the Heat-Cavs game and immediately went back in my mind to that afternoon. The post I linked to earlier described the day better than I can. I don’t remember it being hot, but I looked up the weather data, and it was a scorcher.

I’m glad I couldn’t find any video of the game online because I prefer to remember the deafening chant never ending from the time we arrived until the game ended. I don’t want to bring logic and reality into this memory. That’s not why we follow sports sometimes. Just ask the folks in Cleveland.

Road to Redemption

brian — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 14:46:27 +0000

Late last month, the U.S. soccer team got some great publicity with a fantastic run at the Confederations Cup. People who usually didn’t follow the team tuned in to see us almost beat Brazil in the final.

You might now know this, but the team has not stopped playing. They are currently competing in the Gold Cup, which brings together the top teams from North and Central America and the Caribbean. The roster is mostly different, which is nice as some new guys get a chance to impress Coach Bob Bradley.

One of those guys is Santino Quaranta, who plays for D.C. United and grew up in Baltimore. Once a teenage prodigy, Quaranta has had an up-and-down career which is on one of those fun upswings. This one is different though because of the circumstances. Trust me, you will want to read that link whether you like soccer or not.

The redemption reached a new high point last night when Tino scored the first goal in the team’s 2-0 win over Honduras. He had not represented the U.S. in three years, but hopefully has put himself in position to earn one of the 23 spots on the World Cup team.

That would be fantastic and not just because he plays for my favorite club team and comes from my hometown. We hear too many stories of athletes who go down a bad road only never to return. Tino gives hope that you can face your demons and play on the greatest stage. You don’t need to care about the intricacies of the sport to appreciate that.

Lemonade, That Cool Refreshing Drink

brian — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 09:58:17 +0000

I spent the day at a wine festival last weekend. I had to attend for work, so I really didn’t feel like sampling any of the featured product.

That didn’t bother me much because I love a good festival. I had time to walk around and look at crafts I would never buy. I ate a pretty good pit turkey sandwich. And, since it was sunny out, I had a refreshing cup of lemonade.

Well, I tried to have a refreshing cup of lemonade, but I couldn’t find one. I tried two stands and walked away disappointed both times.

You see, I can’t claim to be an expert in many fields, but I do know how to make a good cup of fresh-squeezed lemonade. I have very high standards. As Eddie Murphy once said in an impression of Elvis Presley, lemonade is a cool, refreshing drink, but that takes a special touch.

From my junior year of high school to a year after I graduated college, I worked at a place called Oasis at Baltimore’s Harborplace. They specialized in fresh-squeezed lemonade.

Over those six years – I worked summers and every break I had from college – I learned all the secrets about what makes a lemonade taste just right. Sadly, I see most of these rules broken whenever I go to a festival or street fair.

First of all, people take the term “fresh-squeezed” a little too literally. I can’t stand it when people squeeze the lemon right into the cup after I order. That does me no good. You need to put the sugar in the cup, squeeze the lemon in, then let the sugar soak up the juice for a while before you make the drink.

Then you squeezed lemons into all the cups and let them sit for an hour or so before making the lemonade. People would always complain that we didn’t squeeze their lemonade right in front of them. Sometimes I would make one the right way and one the way they wanted me to make it. They always saw the point after that.

Because most people don’t handle the sugar and lemon the right way, they also don’t mix the drink the right way. James Bond didn’t just know how to make a martini. He obviously knew lemonade because this drink also should be shaken, not stirred.

In fact, the shaking makes the drink fun. I learned lots of tricks in my lemonade making days. Remember, I worked around the time that Tom Cruise came out with “Cocktail” so people wanted to see us have some fun.

The shakers attached pretty securely to the cups so I could usually entertain them. My biggest problem was my clumsiness so I only had rudimentary skills. I managed to not spill drinks everywhere most of the time though.

Even though I knew both people making my drink this past weekend didn’t know the secrets, I kept my mouth shut. I really didn’t want to make them feel bad, even if they were ripping me off.

I might have to take matters into my own hands one of these days and set up my own lemonade business. I just hope I haven’t lost my touch after all these years.

Orioles Magic?

brian — Thu, 15 May 2008 18:29:54 +0000

I don’t know what to say about this video. I grew up a Baltimore Orioles fan, but don’t follow the team much anymore. Part of it is a busier lifestyle. Part of it is my gravitation towards soccer. But a lot of it is the absolutely shitty way Peter Angelos has run the team.

When I hear the song “Orioles Magic,” I honestly get chills. I remember when it started on June 22-23. The Orioles won the game on the 22nd in the ninth inning with a home run by Doug DeCinces, did the same thing in the first half of the doubleheader on the 23rd when Eddie Murray went deep, then broke a 5-5 tie in the bottom of the eighth to win the nightcap. I remember listening to the doubleheader on the radio as my family cooked out that night. We all knew that team had something special.

Orioles Magic just happened. It developed into a marketing campaign, but that wasn’t the intention. The concept grew from a gritty team that went on a wonderful march on the way to the World Series. Orioles Magic truly meant something to the people who followed the team back then.

I certainly appreciate the energy of the current team and their willingness to connect with the many fans like me who just can’t believe what Peter has done to our team. But Orioles Magic is much more than a music video. You can’t just trot the song out with new players because when you show the new highlights, we see how empty the stadium is, and we know why.

With all due respect to Kevin Millar, he’s no Rick Dempsey, no Eddie Murray, no Doug DeCinces. I’m glad the team has started to play some better ball, but it takes a lot more than a cheesy video and a decent April to make up for what longtime Orioles fans have suffered. Show us some real magic, something close to a pennant race, then you can try and connect with the old days.