Things I Am Not Good At. The List Lengthens. With Age, Perspective, Experience

    This afternoon I was thinking about a few of those things that I am not very good at. There is a healthy list, I would say.

    I was invited to a work dance thing. Part of the wellness for the office workers and company. I have had some less than stellar dance experiences lately, perhaps some of them are working on my psyche or my ego, or my pride or self-perception. A few other things.

    I can embarrass myself with some of it; over the last few years it gets a bit worse. I am not as strong, maybe I have lost a step or two or I do not have the rhythm that I thought I might of had.

    There are indicators that I do not have to divulge here. But it might be looks, or laughs, or reactions. From me and others.

    Then there is singing. Whoo, some poor experiences with that here and there. Sometimes being too loud, that is not good. Loud can mean bad. I had a few moments here and there that likely did not turn out well. In the Caribbean, the Middle East. International less-than-great performances. Maybe at that French  karaoke. Or that night in California...

    What else? Writing. That can be a dangerous downward slope. There are indicators. I do not need to list them here. I could be, or would be, more driven. More wanted. More enjoyed. Just more organized or prolific.

    What else? Cooking. Not me, really. 

    Gardening. Mowing. Home upkeep. I am not that domestic, or pushed to work the home front. I do help in a few ways. Not great. I am not that good at it.

    Making money. Nah, not that great.

    Working out. Nope. It is hard to do all that. Perhaps age and pains have something to do with it.

    Work in general. Perhaps too lazy.

    Exressing better things. Case in point: what I write right now. Not better, huh?

    Sometimes I am not that great at expressing better things.

    Asking better questions.

    Caring more.

    Staving off the apathy, or laziness. Sloth. Flojitis.

    Eating right. Avoiding the fatties or the sweets.

    Drinking correctly. More water? Healthy beverages?

    Memorizing things.

    Yeah, verbatim stuff and me do not get along. With age likely worse.

    Keeping cool all the time when driving. I lose my patience enough.

    I commit driving errors.

    Okay.

    Enough for now.

    There is more for later.

    Getting emotional, sad, and crying too much? Not always at the same time, but still.

    You get it.

    Okay, there.

    Blog that, Fox Sports folks, you 2006 to 2009 blog killers...

    I hold grudges over time!!!

    Yet another.

 Most Poetry Does not Rhyme

    Either way, I have difficulties with poetry.

    When I hear it, I have things in it that I do not understand or hear right.

    Some things sound wrong or I object to what I think I understood.

    It happened Sunday morning when I heard my wife read Billy Collins' poem about poetry.

    Meta-poetic. 

    Putting a "hive to your ear"; that got me. I was stuck. Then other parts of the poem, my beautiful spouse across from me, recanting, reciting, the Poem of the Laureate.

    Me, stuck in the silly hive on the ear. A bee hive? What? 

    Is that poetry? Foolish stings and pain to the face?

    No, I declaim!

    I am thinking that diacritically I maybe am a semi-colon and an interrogative.

    Not a period, not an exclamation. Point.

    Not a full colon.

    Diacritics.

    Within the languages of poetry.

    Poetry in Chinese and Sanskrit.

    Persian, Farsi, or Amharic. What else in Ethiopia?

    All the languages, the native American ones dying off.

    Or perhaps the weird ones of Papua New Guinea.

    What do they speak in the Andamans?

    It is not written, they are truly savages, in the non-racist sense. 

    The Andaman islanders do not welcome the rest of us.

    Almost poetic, really.

    Kit Marlowe or William Shakespeare? The son of the cobbler or the son of the glover?

    Did the real bard die by age twenty-nine? Perhaps he was skewered by Skeres.

    Rodney Bolt is so hard to read.

    But I do it.

    Prose about poets.

    "History Play."

    And none of that rhymed.

    And this, my friends, is not normal poetry.

    Barnes and Noble does not have it.

    But maybe someday.

    This poetry might sing.

    What?

    Billy Collins is all right. Maybe it is me.

    Me and the oratory tradition. 

    Prose, too. I have issues with listening.

    I see it on paper, on a screen, and I can understand it better.

    Then, there is other languages.

    Oof.

    I can do pretty well in Spanish. Portuguese, not bad, really.

    French/ It 

First Week of October 2026. 14 (Fourteen) Undefeated Teams Left. My Two (three) among Them.

    IU crushes Rutgers in Piscataway. 5-0. Nebraska next, in their place of worship. Cornie Huskerers.

    Brigham Young holds on to beat the Christian Horned Frogs Who knew those funny amphibians professed a religion? Cougars are obvious Latter-day Saints: Book of Mormon is all about Western Hemisphere wildcats and felines of prey!

    Who else? The Catholics of South Bend, of our Lady of the Immaculate Conception of her mother Anne. Jesus came later. True story, true believers.

    Then there is the Bible Bashing south. Texas, Georgia, Alabama. Even Missouri. James Madison, North Dakota State... 

    Ummm... Miami. Nebraska, next up for the Hoosiers. All the rest of the Big Ten is undefeated. USC, Oregon, and Ohio State have one loss each. Ha! Penn State and MEECHAGUN have two each! Ha! Ha! HAHHHHHH!

    Wow, the world is upside down. We love it.

    Who else is among the 14 left? Not to say the others, like one-loss LSU cannot get to the 12 part CFP. Likely not Oklahoma State. 

    Oh, I had one. Texas Tech. Anyone else?

    I had to re-read the above, (or imagine it), and take a leak (pardon, relieve myself in the powder room) and think of:

    Pittsburgh! Very lucky to remain lossless as poor Virginia Tech blew the 36 yard field goal. When I fell asleep last Friday or Thursday night. In Blacksburg! Oh, enter light, exit light. Indeed. 

    Did I get them all? Hawai'i is racked with losses. Sorry, sports magazine as I consider going out to the local grocery store to get the basketball magazine. Not too late...

    See ya!

    

    

Pale Hose! We Got This! Counting my Chickens: Yankees or Rays?

Da White Sox rally to win 4-3 over hometown homies Guardians. Yay! I watched much of the game! Yay! I had not seen them visually most or much of the season. They look compact and good. Even though, despite their hitters who barely are hitting .200 plus. Even one below the Mendoza line... One of the Montgomerys... I think the short stop. Forgivable with great defense and clutch hitting and running.

    Poor Padres. Blew it last night to the Brewers, now trailing 2-0 out of five.Oh, well. Brew crew are all right, my fourth favorite hope. Or fifth? 1. White Sox, two: Padres. Three Rays. Four Brewers. Okay.

    I hope we play the Rays. That way, and "we" are the White Sox, a never-been will have a chance. Best case, Padres versus the... Braves. Tired of the Braves and Dodgers. Yeesh. Yankees last won in 2009, but too much of them, too.

    Blog it.

Poetry of the IU Football Champions

    Many of us long suffering Hoosier fans are older than me

    They saw many more seasons, of futility, embarrassment.

    None of the 1945 champion fans or players are living to talk about that team anymore, right?

    Maybe someone born in 1930 or 1938 remembers them, still alive.

    I hope so. In the Hoosier heartland, or perhaps transferred to California or Florida. Or even Georgia.

    Hoosier fans. A rarer breed back in the day. 

    I was one, proudly, by 1980, at least.

    

    After the 1979 crazy Corso bowl win agains the up and coming BYU Cougars. 

    Another team to wax poetic about. For another verse.

    I am a Hoosier fan! (Sorry, Tom Bell. Former Cougar lineman.)

    They are my home and secular love. 

    Was it 1983 that I really started to track them? By radio and newspaper.

    The signal emissions on my transistor at home, my long beloved clock radion, or from whichever car that I found myself in... 

    Returning home from a campout with the Scouts.

    Maybe later that day on the way to dinner with my family.

    The occasional televised game. 

    ESPN opened up the channels ever more. Beyond the ubiquitous NBC, CBS, ABC.

    Then later Fox.

    Over time the love, the attention, the nostalgia and lore grew.

    Mallory. Cameron. Lynch. Who else? Oh yeah, Wilson! Then Allen, who lead to:

    THE. CURT. CIGNETTI. We must love Italy and Italian-Americans.

    We have Googled him.

    He is the champion of champs.

    Wow. Quite the guy.

    A legend of epic proportions, building up over his decades of lifetime into the last two years.

    Indiana is a power.

    Sold out games. Expensive tickets.

    

    Is this poetry? I am not Billy Collins.

    Even AI me from my online footprints is not good enough to capture it, it seems.

    Now we sport our national champion shirts. Hats, caps, tooks or beanies. 

    Oh, and why not candy striped pants or overalls? 

    Penn State fans and followers (as I have seen them at all games everyhwere), the magnificent former victors of national acclaim, squirm and cower when we mention

    the catch  (the Catch!) in the end zone by an inch to preserve the unblemished wonder that was last season, 2025.

    2025. Maybe two huge wins more in January of 2026. 

    We know of Oklahoma, Army, Notre Dame, Michigan, Ohio State, Alabama, Georgia, Clemson.

    Even Brigham Young, from the auspicious year of the Orwellian 1984.

    And yes, the the Florida schools, all the big three.

    We are little old southern Indiana hick IU, with the little stadium simply named Memorial, with the howitzers or some type of World War II cannons ensconced on the west side. 

    We won that war, and we win on the grid iron of the pig skin. After well over a hundred years of losing and laughter, mocking directed at us. Even by the Purdue fans! Or, especially them.

    Ha! He who laughs first...

    Hang the banners in the rafters, from roof tops, from bumper stickers and placards.

    Wear the championship status with pride!

    Indiana Hoosiers. 

    We are the best.

    We have been the worst.

    Google it.

IU Comes out of Piscataway with 100 yard Earners, Uninjured, We Hope

    Indiana scored quickly and well, up 30-0 at halftime. The weather was pleasant and the atmosphere was cool. By the end of the game the Scarlet Knights scores a couple touchdowns. I think the Knights had seven or so injury breaks. Indiana? None. Beebe and Richard ran for a lot, Marshall and Becker caught for a lot, and I think we are better prepped for Nebraska next week. They are undefeated? Should be interesting.

    Michigan lost again! Ha! Go Gophers! Haha, former BYU grad and player Whittingham who dissed the Cougars too many years while the Ute coach.

    Ahh, my memories do not allow me forget the passed offenses against my Provo alma mater.

    Washington lost to USC. No total loss; that guy Rick at Camp Marmal can eat crow, or pie, or his own lordship against my Cougars.

    What else? BYU held on to rival TCU in Dallas.

    Hmmm...

    Missouri might be good. Florida might not be that good. Alabama could be good again. The SEC might be great again. But Texas... Oh yeah, SEC now. The world has changed, ever bit slightly.

    Meanwhile, I felt at home surrounded by hundreds of Hoosiers with their colors and championship shirts.

    Craziness. 800,000 plus IU almumni bopping around the world.

    Indiana with some 21 wins in a row.

    See you next Saturday, Cornhuskers. Maybe not personally, but it may just work out.

Indiana In Piscataway - Hoosiers Come from Near and Far

    The year after Curt Cignetti led to the Indiana Hurry'n Football Hoosiers to one of the most remarkable seasons of all time, the Hoosiers are not as strong. Four games in, there are chinks in the armor, along with real injuries. The running backs are the most dinged up. Turbo Richard, number one, was hurt last week against Northwestern on a cheap hit. But he should be back tonight. Dinged up.

    Lee Beebe, the number two running back, as of last night is out! His two hundred yards against the Wildcats perhaps took a toll. Number three tail back, Khobie Martin, has been out all year. He may come back the middle of this October, the middle of the twelve game regular season.

    Number four, by the name of Cuouno, is apparently out. I think he is a true frosh. The number five is another true freshman, and he might be the main runner.

    Not great. But, there may be some walk-ons that could get their schwerve on.

    With Cignetti you never know.

    Rutgers is down, so...

    IU by at least 21. Maybe, hopefully more.

    Go IU. Fight and recover. Let's prepare for tonight and the weeks to come.