Category Archives: A Pocket of Resistance

A potpourri of posts on a variety of topics, in other words, what’s currently on my mind.

A Regretful Change

Since i began this website — with the help, and i mean help, of Walker Hicks for without him, there would be no jim jewell website — i have made the effort to respond to each comment on my posts with an email directly to the commenter, not with a response on the website.

My reasoning was i wanted to personally thank each individual for reading my posts, not simply reply in the comments section of my site, which, to me, is more like a broadcast thanks, not ensuring the responder would ever see it.

It has been pointed out to me i should respond on the site. It i likely to abet the responder to continue reading and commenting, which helps with my cloudy statistics for the site, which in turn, increasing my readership, according to the rules of the cloud. Well, since i’m still trying to break even (admittedly not trying too hard) on selling my book, Steel Decks and Glass Ceilings, those statistics may help.

It is obvious to me replying in both manners will eat into my time, and the older i get, the less time i have and the more time i need to get things done.

So if you make a comment on my posts, please check out my response to your comment, which is included after the posts. In my heart, it will still be a personal thanks to you, but not as direct. For that, i apologize.

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

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

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

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.

Good Day; Good Snippets From Living

My dear cousin, Margaret Faulkner, pointed out there is an error below. The Vandy boys swept Ole Miss in their SEC opening series, not Mississippi State who was being swept by Kentucky. Thanks, Margaret.

i have a bunch of stuff i promised myself to post on a regular basis that are woefully behind. i have a lot of tasks to carry out undone.

But after today, i am veering off as only i can veer. i am going to write what i feel like writing. i’m sure i won’t finish tonight. i don’t plug ahead like i used to pulling my all nighters, sleeping for a couple of hours, and starting all over again — oh, those incredible ship at sea days where such a routine was a norm and it seemed like Maslow’s level of self-actualization was the norm. So this is likely to be finished tomorrow…or later. i now have a proclivity for procrastination, which has proceeded to epic proportions since i’ve attained an older age, and, guess what, i don’t have to do things on time if i don’t want to. Hah. My excuse is this winter in the Southwest corner.

You see this has been one of the dreariest winters i can recall happening here — and i shamefully call it bad when it’s rained more than usual (but much less nasty than any place back east) and our highs have reached the low 60’s and a on a few days actually not reached that mark. But yesterday. Ah, yesterday.

It began with problems. Vanderbilt was playing Michigan in the National Invitational Tournament. San Diego State was playing Furman in the NCAA tournament, and Vanderbilt was playing last year’s College World Series champion, Mississippi State, in the opening of the SEC baseball season. All were at 9:00 a.m. PDT. To further complicate matters for the reemerging sports writer in me. The Padres, back to full strength and the usual adoring local press announcing they could win it all, were playing a Cactus League game at noon, and there were several other college basketball games.

And magic rolled into the day like a happy puppy. The new world of taping allowed me to watch them all. The Commodores took down the Wolverines, once again calling on the magic of Memorial Gymnasium to come from behind in the last minute. The Aztecs blew out Furman to advance to the “Sweet 16.” The Vandy Boys swept the Bulldogs in impressive fashion. And the Padres showed the potential by blowing past a big Brewer lead to win going away. i must confess a couple of friends gave away the Vandy Boys victory so i only watched the really good innings of that contest. It was a glorious day for the old sports writer.

It got better.

Southwest corner weather as i know it rolled in between the drear and we had a 67 degree, cloudless wonder day like what i like. Perfect. Even with my full dance card of athletics and my old sports writer frothing at the mouth, when Maureen suggested we go to La Mesa, to La Mesa we did go. We hit the old section, which is unique shopping and good eating. We spent a long time poring through the used book store, Maxwell’s House of Books, discovering old classics with the smell of books, real books without a kindle in sight, a delight. We checked out Re-Antimated Records, old LPs, CD’s, cassettes even, but no 45 RPMs. We investigated a local mattress store because our mattress is beginning to sag a bit. And we had an afternoon snack at the new Casa Gabriella restaurant, partaking of the Jalapeño-Cilantro Tempura Cauliflower along with a a tequila, mezcal thing with cilantro and other things (Maureen), and i, against my normal operating procedure had a tequila old fashioned, unusual but surprisingly good.

It was a spectacular day for us.

And somewhere in the middle of all this, i had snippets of good things past popping into my head:

The feel of my bat’s sweet spot cracking a fast ball and already knowing it would be for extra bases.

The pleasure of making an open field tackle, popping the runner in the midsection with my shoulder and carrying him backwards to the ground.

Letting go what is now a three-point shot from the corner and watching it sail through the goal without touching only the net, or better yet, driving through the lane against taller folks and rolling one off the backboard for a layup.

Finally figuring out i could ski better by pretending i was going to my right and reaching across to back hand a grounder at shortstop and then shifting to the left and picking up a grounder on my left side, and finding i could nail the double-blue diamond slopes with this maneuver.

Eating the homemade peach ice cream in the backyard on a late summer afternoon after grinding away on the old ice cream bucket wrapped with piles of dry ice and covered with blankets.

Kissing a girl for the first time at her door when we said good-night.

Driving up the switchbacks of California 74 from Palm Desert to the Paradise Valley Cafe, turning left through the farming land on the high mesa and then hitting the switchbacks again en route to Temicula on CA 79S.

Those snippets keep on coming, almost non-stop, but that’s enough for now. You see, i did take another day to finish this. It’s Sunday afternoon, and being Sunday afternoon, i must take a nap…oh, wait a minute, i say that every day.