Baseball

I was an ace pitcher in high school---a phenom. You should have seen me! I had a 95 MPH fast ball, a snapping curve ball, a change-up that had batters swinging before the ball was halfway to the plate, and I invented the split-finger fastball (a.k.a. "splitter). That happened when I got used to giving the peace sign and then accidentally one day I gripped the ball with a peace sign and my fastball started doing tricks. I told my coach about it and he told a scout for the Braves who was coming around with his eye on me (this was 1966---their first year in Atlanta) and the next thing you know it’s all over the Majors. Of course, I never got in credit for it, but it’s the truth.

Then my arm went dead my senior year and the Braves scout stopped coming around. A potential Hall of Fame career evaporated.

At least this is what I told my son when he was playing baseball growing up and he still believes his Dad. If any of you tell him it isn’t true I’ll never speak to you again. A father has to be hero somehow to his own son, doesn’t he?

My son would walk around telling everyone, “My Dad invented the split-finger fastball.” I’d smile and my chest would swell up. It was wonderful.

I don’t follow Major League baseball much anymore, but I do enjoy watching high school and college ball. If only they would get rid of those aluminum bats I’d enjoy it more. There oughta be a law against those nefarious aluminum bats!

One thing you can say for baseball. There is no replay. The play is over, the call is made by the umpire, and that’s it. Out or safe. Three strikes and you’re out. No running to a replay on the sidelines like football or running to the scorer’s table as in basketball. That’s the way it should be. No appeal.

Another nice thing about baseball is that at the high school and college level, the umpires can hear you. You can yell at the bums in blue and yell loud enough so that they can hear you. So can fans around you. So what. It can be so much fun to yell at the boys in blue. Every umpire is blind when it comes to my team. There’s nothing quite like yelling at a baseball umpire, “What’s a matter, ump. Are you blind?”

The last thing I’ll say about baseball is that I hope Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens are convicted. I have no sympathy for either. So there.

Spring is Here

Spring is here. How do I know you ask?

Two ways. When I awake in the morning before I rise I lie in bed and hear the birds singing outside our house. The first sign of the arrival of spring is when I hear birds singing at 5 a.m. (Daylight Saving Time).

The second sign is the pollen. This green pollen that swamps the neighborhood and covers my car an inch thick attacks my nose and eyes without mercy. Nature can be so cruel.

The poet said that April is the cruelest month. This is what he meant.

With General Lee

The night before the big battle, the gray men spread their tents across the Pennsylvania countryside, west of Gettysburg. Fires burned. Songs were sung. George Pickett, smelling of French perfume, told stories of his friends Dick Garnett and Lo Armistead. Those listening passed around a bottle, laughing long into the early morning hours.

I wandered over to Lee's headquarters. Murmurs rose in the camp that tomorrow the war could be over, by golly, we will have those bluebellies. Lee was standing in the doorway of a single room house, the glow of the light inside around him. Officers walked about. Reporters eagerly awaited a word from the Old Man. Lee inspected a map.

"Sir, I see you are alone. May I have speak with a moment?" I said.

Lee sat down in a rocking chair, slowly. He closed his eyes, tilted his head forward. He looked almost asleep. "Yes, you may," he said. His hat rested on his lap, letting his thick, full gray hair and beard shine with the night stars.

I sat down beside him.

"What are your plans for tomorrow? I gather you will attack."

Wearily, Lee said: "We will attack up the middle. Meade is weak there because he fortified his flanks."

I felt privileged for this moment with General Lee. The men looked at him with respect, admiration. He could not be blamed, not ever, no matter what. Lee was a father to them. The men quieted when he passed, and they fought for him with all their hearts. The pride that inspired the Southern army was due to the Old Man. After all, as they say, Stuart may have descended from an ape, Longstreet may come from an ape, but certainly not General Lee. He was a gentleman.

"Your men say that a final charge could end this war. Tomorrow you may be marching to Washington."

"It is possible," Lee said. "We shall see. It is in God's hands."

A horse snorted, and I looked in its direction. General Longstreet was approaching with a man trailing.

"Freddy, do you know that man with Pete?"

"That is my Dad. He has been spending time talking with the General."

"Right. I met him earlier. Fred is his name, correct?" Lee smiled slightly. "I am not young beneath this beard. The war has gone on too long. Too many good men have died. I am tired. I am ready for this war to end." Lee put a hand to his chest, grimaced, like a pain had shot through his chest.

I knew, like Longstreet, that the big battle will fail. The Union had better ground, the high ground. Walking over a mile, in the face of enemy cannons and rifles, will devastate the men. How will Garnett make it even halfway on a horse? Poor Garnett, always trying to prove his honor. I knew too, like Longstreet, that Lee should not order this attack, he should move the army north and cut the bluebellies off from Washington. Find good ground there. Make them attack. But Lee will not do that. He believes there is an opportunity. He believes too in the prowess of his Southern men, who have always fought outnumbered and outgunned.

And being around General Lee on this night before Gettysburg, which turned the war irrevocably in the Union's favor, I believe a little too. Maybe the South, and its hearty Virginians, can do it. Maybe that can take that ground.

That is what it means to be with General Lee.

MOYNA'S SOAPBOX (6)

TODAY is the day that I let off some steam!! I keep trying to just let go of what's buggin' me, but it keeps coming back and making me mad all over again. It's not something HUGE, just one of those things that makes you mad everytime it crosses your mind. Here's what's bothering me...

I get really ticked off at the young people today that don't follow proper etiquette which shows me they think of no one but themselves or have not been properly taught some good manners. I do blame their parents to a great extent. Parents today just want to be their kids best friends, not their parents. It's a tough & exhausting job, but worth it when their kids are terrific adults - then you can be their friend. Here's what is making me mad: We have a friend whose daughter was married around Thanksgiving of last year. We not only gave her a wedding gift, but I did some food for her reception. WE STILL HAVE NOT RECEIVED A THANK YOU NOTE!!!!!! Her mother has told me over & over how much the food was appreciated and loved, but we still have not heard word one from the daughter.
Another similar incident is what is really making me MAD!! We know some people in Arizona. Freddy went to elementary school with one of the boys and we have remained in touch through the years by yearly Christmas cards. Last year, at the end of November or the first of December, we received a wedding announcement for the boy (Michael). The wedding was to be on December 30th. A day or two after Christmas, I sent Fred to the post office to mail our wedding gift to the couple - a little something from Tiffany & Co..... That same afternoon, we received a note in the mail from the bride saying the wedding had been cancelled! And this is why I am MAD...here it is, the first week of March, and we have NOT had the gift returned to us, or have we received a note to say it will be returned or to thank us for the gift (if they are being so rude as to keep it - which is what appears to be the case). Besides the rudeness of keeping the gift, what really makes me mad is that these are people that call themselves 'Christians...' I know we're not a perfect people, but this could have/should have been taken care of. Well, there it is. I'm still steaming about this, but I'll get over it - until the next time it pops up in my mind!!

Next item...today when we woke up, we had a dusting of snow. I am soooo disappointed that we have not had a good snow in several years. Our news coverage this morning was about the WINTER STORM we had last night!!! WHAT A JOKE!! You would think we had a foot of snow fall. And the news coverage went on and on and on for a few hours. Long before the coverage was over, the snow in our yard had melted, leaving it look like just another cold, dreary day outside! I have NO FAITH left to keep hoping that I will see a good snow.

Fred and I are getting our ducks in a row to try & get things done around the house that need to be done. We are going to take out all the bushes around the house & have a small brick wall put in and plant some colorful flowers rather than have the bushes. Hopefully, this will be a little easier to take care of. If I can ever make up my mind, we are going to get either new carpet or tile the living room, dining room, and hallway. We will put down hardwood for the stairs. Those are the major projects for this coming spring & summer - along with the "usual" ones.

That's about it from here - or at least all I can think of right now. Fred & I made it through the first two months of the year healthy. He managed to go to his January sales meeting and come back healthy!! I always hold my breath hoping he won't come back with a cold and give it to me! That's been a common occurance the last several years...

'Til later.

With General Longstreet

I was there with General James “Pete” Longstreet on the evening of June 30, 1863 at Gettysburg the night before the start of the big battle. His camp was surprisingly quiet. This was the last calm before the start of the storm of the next hundred and fifty years. The only excitement was a poker game. The participants tried to get the General, a legendary card player, involved but he doesn’t bite.

General Longstreet is quite a physical speciman. Head big as a stump. Massive shoulders. Full beard. Man of few words. Witty but short-spoken. His three kids died of fever last winter, all in the same week. How could man carry on under these circumstances?

“What’s going to happen tomorrow, General,” I ask him.

“Heck if I know,” he responds. “We haven’t heard from Stuart. Jeb is out joy-riding again I’m sure. Trying to get his name in the Richmond papers. Who knows. We go for weeks at a time not knowing where that knucklehead is. I can’t believe there are many Yankees out there if we haven’t heard from Stuart. He’s supposed to be letting us know where the Yankees are.”

“Have you heard from General Lee?”

“Well, you know I wasn’t in favor of going into Pennsylvania in the first place. I think the Old Man has lost his marbles. Him and Davis both. Is this crazy or what? We need to stay at home and make the bluebellies come to us. I’d rather fight ‘em in Mississippi than in Pennsylvania. I suppose he’ll show up tomorrow if he doesn’t have anything better to do. To my dying day I’ll never understand why the Old Man seems to enjoy attacking fortified Union positions. The best defense is a good defense. He doesn’t know that.”

“Speaking of Mississippi, have you heard from Vicksburg?”

“Not to worry. Those Mississippi boys can take care of themselves.”

“What about Grant?”

“Good man. I have nothing personal against him except that he drinks too much. We’ve been friends since the academy.”

“They say Grant is a butcher.”

“You’d be a butcher too if you drank a quart of bourbon a day.”

Just then General Pickett comes riding up.

“Hi, George,” says General Longstreet.

Pickett dismounts.

“Can you believe this pinprick finished last in his class at West Point?” General Longstreet says to me, pointing to Pickett. “He goes charging where angels fear to tread. Lack of good sense has always been his prime motivator. And look at that hair (Pickett has shoulder-length curly hair). You’re a real sweetie, aren’t you, George?”

General Pickett bows grandly, his head almost touching the ground, sweeping his hat adorned with TWO feathers in review.

“Good evening, General Longstreet. I always appreciate your kind remarks, kind sir.” Pickett smirks slightly. “Your sense of humor never ceases to amuse me.”

“We’ve all seen you now, George,” says General Longstreet. “Better get some rest. Tomorrow may be a busy day. By the way, how’s your Sallie?”

General Pickett rides away meekly without responding.

General Longstreet turns to me. “Pickett is in love with a schoolgirl half his age. Crazy man.”

He ruminates to himself and then he asks me the big question.

“What do YOU think is going to happen tomorrow, Fred?”

“The history of Western Civilization for the next 150 years is on the line in this battle to come. Other than that, nothing.”

Chuckling, General Longstreet says, “In that case, I’ll sleep well tonight. Not to worry.”

I decide to let it it go. History cannot be changed anyway. Many supporters of The Cause will say that Longstreet lost Gettysburg and therefore the war and that he was a traitor for joining the Grant Administration. Poor Longstreet. A good man, but endlessly controversial. But he’s MY hero.

“By the way, General, may I call you Pete?”

“Sure. I’ve been called worse.”

P.S. Here is the terrible truth. If I had been there supernaturally and had been able to warn Longstreet and Lee about the outcome of this battle with the strategy they (Lee) employed and IF I had been able to tell them the correct strategy which would have resulted in a Confederate victory, I would NOT have done so. For the Southerner of 2008, this would have been the RIGHT thing to do, as terrible was the suffering of this battle was. Oh my, Pete, how tough it would have been to have been there with you the night before the battle knowing the terrible outcome and yet keeping my mouth shut.

March 2

It seems like only yesterday that I was going to sleep in Atlanta on New Year's Eve. Now it's already March. Where did the last months go?

We are having a pleasant weekend in central Alabama.

Bad weather is expected to blow through the area Monday night. We're still in a drought despite lots of rain in recent days.