All posts by Jim

Expectations, Dejection: San Diego Tradition, and Other Thoughts On Basketball

A Pocket of Resistance, Jewell in the Rough

i believe it was the Charles Barkley curse.

San Diego State University lost to the University of Connecticut, 76-59, in the NCAA basketball tournament finals.

Barkley had been negative about the Aztecs and did not pick them to win any game, or at least the ones when i caught him in the pre-game folderol, UNTIL the championship game. Not only, did he pick the Aztecs to beat the Huskies, he went all in, praising them for their defense, and wearing a goofy looking red foam cowboy hat, looking as one of his talking head colleagues noted, like “Yosemite Sam.”

The tradition of San Diego not winning a major championship in any major sport at any level continues. Such a crown has not occurred here since the now gone to LA LA Land Chargers winning the AFL Championship in 1964. The streak is alive due to the Barkley curse. i am convinced.

As i watched the championship basketball game, i was entranced while thinking thoughts about a game i love.

UConn beat SDSU because they were better at the game they play.

Sports media has a love affair with the word “physicality.” i heard it a sickening number of times last night, enough to make my head burst into tiny pieces because not once was it properly used. i think they think its cool because it’s longer than “physical” or “athletic” and it makes them sound sophisticated. NOT. i know, i know, it’s a rant of mine, but dammit, speak correctly or it will lead to misunderstanding.

The game i watched last night was far from the game of basketball i knew growing up. Sometime in the ’70s, i was listening to sports talk show on the powerful Chicago radio station WLS. i don’t remember exactly when or exactly why i was listening. i expect it was because it was the rock and roll station for me in the weekday evenings up until WLAC began its blues programming. Regardless, the caller-in was expressing his idea about pro basketball.

“i think these NBA teams are messed up in their recruiting,” he opined, “They are recruiting the best college basketball players.” He continued, “They should be scouting the street games in Chicago. That’s where there are great athletes playing the game like the pros.”

Not anymore. i watched a street fight game of basketball all of the college season. The most physical, tough, team won. In fact, that was the what happened in all of the 32 teams in the tournament, as well as the 16 games in the National Invitational Tournament. The game is about physical toughness as well as basketball skills, tactics, and strategy (not “physicality”).

Grantland Rice, the king of sports writers in the “Golden Age of Sports” (the 1920s) and the mentor for my Fred Russell, once wrote the golden rule for sports: “For when the One Great Scorer comes to mark against your name, He writes—not that you won or lost—but how you played the Game.”

When i was a Navy lieutenant junior grade and the executive officer of MSTS Transport Unit One, i rode USNS ships carrying Republic of Korea troops to and from Vietnam. i quickly learned that in the Korean culture at that time, it was okay to get ahead by any means: abuse, payoffs, back stabbing, almost anything we consider heinous…until you got caught. When you got caught, you were cast into the lowest level of society and punished beyond belief.

Apparently, the Great Scorer’s thoughts on playing in an athletic CONTEST have been abandoned for cheating and the old Korean idea that anything is okay as long as you don’t get caught. A football coach has even been quoted, saying “…if you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying.” And it seems everyone has adopted another common quote among college and professional coaches: “Winning is everything.” i should add this appears the new way of living lives in our country, perhaps the world.

Fouling is not only forgiven but encouraged, as long as one doesn’t get caught. The aforementioned Barkley was adamant in his defense of the FAU player in the semis who, when the Aztec guard had gone up for the winning shot, reached up with his hand and grabbed Trammel’s side and pushed the guard as he was shooting, affecting the missed shot. Chuck’s reasoning, they shouldn’t call such fouls at the end of the game. This logic, or lack thereof, still stuns me: it’s okay to foul sometimes but not always?

Today’s players continually take more than two steps without being called for “walking” or “traveling.” Players continually dribble by putting their hand on top of the ball without being whistled, which was previously called “palming,” or “carrying.” And you weren’t supposed to touch the other player except when incidental going for the ball. None of these are called today, and touching an opponent is completely subjective by the referees or the interminable conference of the refs while watching video replays from every angle for…oh, about several days.

In spite of all of that, today’s game is fun to watch, exciting. The subjective nature of fouling and not fouling by refs, coaches, and players brings drama, if not honesty and sportsmanship. i had to laugh when in the FAU/SDSU game, the end was decided by the refs pulling out…a stopwatch because the technical timing had not been started correctly.

i, and many friends, have been concerned about the the “Name, Image, and Likeness” (NIL) rule changes for college athletes getting paid for folks using their image, was going to make the playing field for recruiting even less level than it already was, that the big name programs were going to cut off the little names from the big stars. We were also upset with the lack of loyalty and again giving the big boys an advantage with the “transfer portal.”

If that is true, it’s in the future, not now. To watch the underdogs win again and again in the conferences and in the tournaments was refreshing. The playing field was more level.

And most encouraging was, even with the big name programs and their alumni and fans throwing money at the stars like tinsel after a championship, there are programs who approach this in the right way.

i offer San Diego State as an example. The San Diego State Athletic Foundation determined their program shouldn’t chase athletes with money, but provide them with enough income allowed by the NIL ruling to live decently while playing a sport for the school. All athletes in a program on the mesa gets $2,000 a month. The school and the athletic department wants their athletes to play because they love the sport and want to win as a team. Apparently, that works real well, and the basketball program serves as a great model.

So the college basketball season is over. i am not shaking my head in dismay as i have in many previous seasons. Yes, part of that is because my two teams, San Diego State and Vanderbilt did very well, very well indeed. But more so, i am looking forward to next season for college basketball as a whole. Go Aztecs. Go Commodores.

But man, the rare drear of the Southwest corner seemed to return to its normal best weather in the world. Golf will be a bit more comfortable now.

And folks, it is time for baseball.

They’re Coming to Take Me Away

A Pocket of Resistance

This morning, i had an occurrence, an event. After it had unfolded, i texted my closest family about it and drew some encouraging words (which i greatly appreciated). After that, i reflected and decided i really do what i noted i might in the last parenthetical statement.

You see, i thought you might enjoy the fact that i can laugh at myself even in my advanced years:

They’re coming to take me away, hah, hah! This morning, i arose at 5:00, which is pretty normal, but it was early tasks day. i dutifully collected all of the trash and recycle cans in the house, hauled the big bins around to the front of the garage, moved my widowed neighbor’s bins to the street, returned to mine, filled them from all of the trash, recycle, and yard waste from the house bins, added a grunch of cardboard we had collected into the recycle bin, and hauled them all to the street. i came back in to the kitchen and made Maureen’s coffee, arranged the 4,769 condiments next to her frother and cup that has “Naughty” etched on the outside, ground my Peru beans roasted three days ago, put them in my micro-filter press Maureen had given me, set the table for her (i’m dieting…again), pressed the press and poured my coffee into the cup Sarah gave me for my birthday, which has a drawing of an old, slightly pudgy, bespectacled bald man in a Padre jersey and waving a Padre pennant. i sat at my computer, and went through my morning reads, all the while very proud of myself for such a good job taking out the trash. Maureen awoke and came by my office. “Why did you take the recycle out?” i haughitly replied, “i took all the trash out!” “But it’s Monday,” she responded. Trash pickup is Tuesday. i feel a little bit old today. (think, i’ll put this in a post.)

Joyeux Anniversaire Mon Cheri

A Pocket of Resistance

She doesn’t like me to post things on her birthday. She doesn’t want me to get her a gift on her birthday. She will point out the errors in my use of French in the title of this post to state it is my love’s birthday. She will correct my pronunciation, even if it is close to correct, of my version of French in this title.

So i will only state here my love for her is unconditional, and i hope she is comfortable for the way i handle all of this. She remains beautiful at 72.

i will violate her rule with this one photo on our wedding day:

Happy Birthday, Maureen.

Notes from the Southwest Corner – 6: Good Things Happen for Those Who Wait

Notes from the Southwest Corner

i have been remiss in posting my old Democrat columns on Thursday. i plan to resume and maintain that practice. i hope my Lebanon friends and family understand.

SAN DIEGO, CA – Last Monday, Ms Denise Joyner, the Lebanon High School Athletic Director called and announced Estelle Prichard Jewell had been selected as an inaugural member of the Blue Devil Athletic Hall of Fame.

Estelle Jewell is my mother.

About a year ago, J.B. Leftwich, a weekly columnist here, a close family friend, and my mentor in journalism (which I have noted frequently), wrote a tribute to Estelle and suggested she might have been the best women’s basketball player in the history of Blue Devil Sports. For her size, his suggestion just might be a slam dunk.

In a 1935 district tournament semi-final, Estelle scored 33 points for the Blue Devilettes girls basketball team and was named to the all-tournament team. For the 1934-35 season, she scored 283 points in 19-games. This was during an era when most games were low-scoring affairs, rarely exceeding 30 points total. Her single game and season scoring records stood for a quarter of a century.

She will be inducted during a half time ceremony during LHS basketball games, December 14

I am elated. LHS’ Hall of Fame is honoring her just after she turned 90 in July.

I am anxious to learn of other inductees. Clifton Tribble, Don Franklin, David Robinson, Ann Lucas. Louis Thompson, David Grandstaff, Hal Greer, and many others immediately come to mind as probable selections. It bemuses me to think of my mother standing next to these heroes of mine and receiving her plaque.

Estelle Jewell today does not come across as a hall of fame athlete. Being 90 certainly belies her earlier skills. She also tops out at five feet tall. I saw her take a shot once. It was a two-handed push. She jumped and spread her legs when she shot. From fifteen feet, it hit nothing but net. I don’t think she could do that now.

In reflection, she laughs about her play. “I got 33 in the semi-finals,” she says, “but I couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn the next night, and we lost.” I have never heard her brag about her accomplishments.

In her recollection of a game at Mount Juliet, she recalled how she would try not to drive for a lay-up on one end of the court because she might run into the Ben Franklin stove underneath the basket. The stove heated the entire gym.

Not considering the stove, it was a different game then with three zones with two guards on the defensive end, two forwards on the offensive end, and two centers in the middle who passed the ball from defense to offense. One dribble was all that was allowed.

Still, Estelle’s accomplishments remain exceptional.

Her shooting skills were probably enhanced by chores. Her grandfather, Joseph Webster, the retired Methodist circuit rider, would give her a penny for each fly she swatted and killed inside the farmhouse on Hunter’s Point Pike.

Her endurance and strength were likely abetted by other chores she and her two sisters and brother undertook while her mother was a care-giver, working day and night (Her father, Joe Blythe Prichard, died young and the family lived with their grandfather).

When her hall of fame career in sports was concluded, Estelle quickly put it aside and went to work. She learned secretarial skills at the County Court Clerk’s office in the old courthouse on the square. She worked for the Commerce Union Bank on the north side of the corner of the square and East Main Street. She married my father, Jimmy Jewell, in 1938, three years after she had graduated from LHS.

She is a reflection of all of the women of that generation whom I have known: practically feminine with a firm grasp of reality; frugal but willing to lavish gifts and love on her family and friends. She is a product of hard times (the depression), frightening times of sacrifice and victory (World War II), security produced by hard and loyal work, and change without end. They are strong, balanced, and loving women.

But every once in a while, basketball will come up in a conversation, and you can still see the sparkle in Estelle’s eyes.

When I called my mother for congratulations, her and my father’s excitement made it an unforgettable phone call. She was thrilled. The news was something to feel good about.

Thank you, Blue Devils for proving in a good place like Lebanon, good things do happen, especially for those who wait.