Mike Trout Stopped at 7 Games Straight - Enters Top 100

    Mike Trout is special. He may be the best of all time. Give him another ten years and he may have the numbers to prove it. He has had a bad year in a few senses, the season almost over halfway through September. One, as he would readily declare, his team is a bust in 2022. Again. They have not been able to win, even with the amazing Shohei Ohtani, the incredible pitcher and hitter. Not enough hitting or pitching to make the playoffs. This negative result after spending a lot of money on talent for many years. So as a team player, things are bad.

    Second, he got hurt this season and has missed a lot of games. His presence in the lineup would have made the difference in a few more wins for this Anaheim-based club, but likely not enough to get them even to .500. So, his overall normal, superior numbers are down as an individual player. 

    On to the bright side. Upstaging himself and past feats, which is hard to do, he went on a home run tear upon returning from the Injured List, and hit homers in seven consecutive games, which is one game from the all-time list, tied three ways at eight. He came up short tonight. 

    During this streak he achieved becoming one of the top 100 home runs hitters of all time, tied with two others at 344 total long balls, the other two having played 15 and 16 years in the majors. Trout has now played 12 total seasons, to include the pandemic 60 game season in 2020, and having suffered a few other injuries over the years. The dude is amazing. He usually hits over .300. This year he is in the .280s, but he may raise it into the .290s by October, his season's end.

    On the alarming side, he does have a back condition that might be unfixable, but he claims that it is not threatening his career or performance. Most of us hope that he is right.

    He is a special talent. 

    We salute Mike Trout in his latest exploit. Seven games in a row. Wow.

    Only four players are ahead of him on the all-time home run list: one is still young, Giancarlo Stanton, while the other three are aged and almost done. Albert Pujols now has 697 and will retire in a couple of weeks. Nelson Cruz is 42 and almost done. Miguel Cabrera is in his late 30s. Trout is poised to be the man. If only his team could become a winner. He would have everything.    

        The best of south Jersey, perhaps the best of all time.

    Here's to Mighty Mike. A former coworker new him as a kid, and his family would babysit him. Did they know he might be the next Babe, Willie Mays, Hammering Hank, or Barry Bonds? You never know who these little ones will become. We will wait and see.

    

Stephen Hargis of Chatttttanooooooga - You are a Dufus

Stephen Hargis of Chattanooga - You are a Dufus

    I hate to put it in those terms, but it is true. Dude, there are apparently only 65 sportswriters who vote on the weekly college football rankings, and you are one of them? Really? You? You currently rated BYU at 19th best in the country, and Utah is not ranked in the top 25.

    And yes, I maintain that you are rather dumb, or biased, or wrong, when it comes to this choice of ranking these Utah schools. Sure, Tennessee  Kentucky just beat newly ranked Florida, that had upset the weekend before then highly ranked preseason favorite Utah. Utah smushes its instate FCS opponent down south Southern Utah Thunderbirds, week two, and then falls out of the top 25.

    According to Stephen Hargis. Yeah. This guy. How old are you? What do you know?

    Dude, do you know how good Utah really is? They were one pass from beating the Gators in the Swamp, opening game. They will likely beat everybody in their conference, including the now trendy pick USC Trojans. 

    Anyway, maybe I am wrong, and maybe I am the dufus. Let's see how things go. But, you have BYU at only 19. They just handled a top 10 ranked Baylor in Double OT. This, after missing two easy Field Goals that would have ended things well for the Cougars sooner. BYU is good. Better than only #19 good. Their top two receivers were out with injuries hampering them. They still won. And the defense allowed 20 points, instead of 38 like last year, but this time in two overtimes. Baylor is really good, and scored only twenty points in about 70 minutes of game time.

    Of course, I could be wrong. The Baylor Bears may not be the class of the Big-12 this year. But I think they are. We shall see when they play would-be giant killers Texas, and a few others, maybe Oklahoma or Oklahoma State. Or even Texas Tech, who upset highly thought of formerly ranked Houston.

    So yeah. We shall see if I am right or not.

    But for now, Stephen Hargis of the Chattanooga Tennessee Free Press, or whatever rag you scribble for: you are the dummy behind the eight ball.

    Have fun the rest of the season. Go Vols, go Dawgs. I bet you think they are much better than the Utah teams (both nearby SEC powers). Maybe they are. But, maybe you are a complete dufus. When it comes to this evaluation. You might be a genius in a lot of things, but... Not this.

    Till then.

    

Rice Is Nice - A Time for Appreciation

    There are times in life when some of us go without food and calories, some of it by choice or by circumstance. I have done some of it. I suppose for both reasons, by force, obligation, a few times sickness. For professional or career goal reasons, almost like boxers or wrestlers do, "cutting weight". Luckily, I do not have to get in a ring or a mat at such times, but cutting weight has become a thing for me, multiple times.

    For me recently it culminated this Sunday afternoon as many of us were finishing up their lunches. I looked on enviously or longingly, knowing that I had to avoid these tasty morsels and delectable items going to and fro where I walked and passed. I needed to step up on a scale and hit my magic number, or suffer the consequences of delay, punishment, negative things that I have not faced before. I have been doing this more or less for 15 years. It has become a part of me. And more or less interestingly, each time at the finish line it can be different.

    It was different today, for different reasons. Leading up I was weak, had some headaches, had to take alternative measures that my wife assisted in to cut the weight. I was working, trying to manage the calories day after day, hour by hour. Food choice by food choice. I did it for three weeks total, but it took on momentum as the last days approached.

    My first real calories after a good deal of sweating and working and avoiding water was: some rice of some Latino make. Perhaps from chipotle, or a Salvadoran restaurant. It had some peppers that were hot, made me hiccup a little, but was delicious. Wow. I celebrated this small but potent treasure in a small leftover aluminum foil wrapper. I laid it in top of a vehicle in a warm, humid day, surrounded by some nature and birds, and other trucks and such. This was great. It wasn't much. Someone else had most of it, but I know I had the most delicious part. Yum. Calories to a deprived body. Nourishment. I made weight. Savor the moment.

    Next came a small Styrofoam container, unopened, of just white sticky rice. No utensils, I picked it up Indian style, as past roommates had taught me, and ate maybe a satisfying two thirds of it. I found the sauce upon re-entry to the building and found the unopened sauce container. I thought that the combination would have been better, but I simply dipped one finger in and enjoyed the rich flavor. Rice.

    Rice. To a person who is hungry or starved (I have never been starved), what an amazing thing.

    Tonight I made it home after a long day, and found more cooked rice and spices on a pan on the open stove. I mixed a sauce with it, and it was the third time I enjoyed rice today.

    I appreciate it. I am very glad that people produce it and cook it.

    The first bites after the long lunch of fasting was when I wanted to celebrate and cheer for all Latin American rice makers and their efforts everywhere.

    Yes, rice.

Pot, Pot, Pot - It is Ruining Our Generations

    Perhaps I am old and crotchety, but all roads lead to this "recreational drug" being the mind killer. 

    IT IS KILLING US.

Little kids in active shooter sessions. Others who become suicidal. Others who tune out, dope out, and give up on better work, study, and dreams.

    My children work with some. Some are deemed "perma-psyched". This is described as a condition where the person is permanently mentally disabled in the head.

    NO BUENO. How do we let this legally occur?

    We will be paying for generations. In a bad way.

    Apparently not enough care.

    And worse yet, despite the legalization in many U.S. states and territories (like the nation's capital, a place where murders happen frequently), people are still out sling it in the streets, across the borders, across the mountains, deserts, and seas, all risking life and limb. 

    It's a deadly, deadly business. Cocaine, heroin, and increasingly methamphetamine and fentanyl are killing us left and right.

    Cannabis is just another in the panoply of illicit drugs that influence our brains, behaviors, and societies. 

    There are people now convinced that Nancy Reagan and the "War on Drugs" in the 1990s had it wrong.

    Smoking anything is wrong. Especially the ones that cause cancer and alter our brains.

    Pick your poison. We continue to legalize poison.

    Will we figure out how to stop it?

    I am afraid not. The active shooters and in the case of the Central Plains of Canada, the knifers will continue.

    Ugh.

We Have Not Forgotten Steven Cowell

    On Those that Have Passed

    Forgive me for writing as much as I do about those who have passed on, but that is what is in my head. At the end of the day, we will be all together, living and dead, so we are in some ways all united as it is. Some of us breathe air through our living lungs, and others are breathing spiritual airs. I like writing about many things; sometimes I feel stymied, restricted, blocked, less than effective, unproductive. Less than adequate. That's okay. I'll keep plugging away. Sometimes I re-read my writings and I cringe; I see mistakes, and goofiness. But that is the way it is. There are times when I am satisfied.

    I have written a book this last year. That makes me feel good. The last edits are not done. I think I am dragging my feet with it. I want to find or use a publisher to get it out. Sometimes I judge it as not that good, but then I see books that exist in my house, in print, and think about others that I have seen over the years, and I believe mine will stand up all right. Who knows? I need to keep chipping away. Before it is too late, as they say.  The name of the book as I have it now is: The Watchman: A Reflection on Afghanistan and the World We Share. I hope it works. I have faith. Stay tuned.

    I have been blogging a lot lately, which might be a byproduct of me dragging my feet about the book. Ah, ever the procrastinator. But there is hope. Writing scratches itches that I believe that a lot of us suffer from. I also think that writing and piecing things together is a healthy thing, mostly.

  Subjects to Write On

     I write about many things, people, stuff. Ideas, events, whatever. In 2013 I was thinking about a friend who died precociously; I was trying to write something that would simultaneously help me understand his loss and also leave some knowledge out there for others who may care. He had an interesting life, and things that I felt were unique, and then he had a bit of a mysterious death. I used his real name in the tribute ... Well, I actually wrote a tribute about him for his mom way back in 2001, not long after his passing. 

    That original eulogy or mini-memoir about this friend from childhood into adulthood was meant to be as nostalgic and warm as possible. And truthful, of course. The one that I wrote in 2013 had more doubts in it, and I think it was me still trying to be truthful, but perhaps more questioning. Which can be painful. I published the letter of sorts about him, to let others in my high school grades know about him. I later received an email from a church member from my hometown, who was notified by the mother who was upset that the real name was used, and this would potentially be something negative that the surviving son, her grandson would see. She was upset. So, I went back and changed the real name. Sorry, I meant no offense. 

    In my defense, as I stated, I was trying to understand things better, asking questions that perhaps no one living had the answers to regarding his death. I think it showed that I cared. Also, me in the 40s was perhaps more critical of that person and his choices, perhaps defending my own life choices and how I did not wish to be caught in the same circumstances. He was alone, away from his child, and had few friends around. I was planning on moving to Los Angeles and seeing him in a few months. I planned on being his friend again. I respected his mind and soul, and me and my life-long friend from Indiana lamented his loss. This friend, who was family, was also living in California and was better friends to the mutual friend than me.

    My dad, born in 1937, grew up not knowing much about his biological father. I thought that the son, growing and aging, would appreciate any words, even some negative ones about his dad that he would never know. None of us are perfect. But the grandmother was worried that he was not at the right age to accept it, or receive it well, so that was how that was. I also blogged about him, and a former IU basketball player who died young. I should share the link.

    Steve Cowell, Memories

    Anyway, this is supposed to be about Steven, or Stephen Cowell, some of my impressions of him. I am not too concerned about the survivors of Steve as far as them being upset with what I say; I do not mean that in a calloused way. If they ever read this post, I hope that they see that I knew and cared about him. And so did others. He is not forgotten. He had a child at a young age, perhaps a son. I believe the child was living in Green County, Indiana. I am not sure. I do not think that Steve was allowed to be close to his own child, so potentially this could fill some gaps for some to know. I would hope, anyway. If I were his progeny, I would be interested and grateful to know a few things about my biological father.

    Steve was from eastern Greene County, Indiana. This is a rural area west of Bloomington, Indiana, where I hail from. I once drove Steve back to Cincinnati, I believe, where I think he grew up. This is a farm village Cincinnati, not the major metropolis to our east a couple hours away in Ohio. Green County is rural and bucolic.

    Steve wound up living in Bloomington in an assisted living facility, a place that I think of was mostly intended for older people. It was there or nearby where my mother would visit an older lady from church when I was a kid. Her name was Pearl, and she was sweet. Steve was investigating the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.     

    In the late 1990s I was attending the Young Single Adult Branch by the IU campus, where we normally had two sets of full-time missionaries looking for people interested in our faith. My calling was Branch Mission Leader, which meant coordinating the efforts of the missionaries with us local members, conduct baptisms and other activities, and help teach he newly converted members a series of lessons for their better understanding and integration as a new member. My duties lead me to Steve's apartment. We got to know each other better, as Steve became a part of our committed church community.

    We might have shared four to six lessons with Steve in his apartment; perhaps sometimes we let others do the teaching and sharing. Later I became his home teacher, which usually meant making a monthly visit and checking on his well-being. I think he probably was baptized in 1998. We had quite a few people join the branch in that time period. I do not remember if I attended or conducted his baptism service. Perhaps I have kept some record of it. As mission leader in the Bloomington YSA Branch I feel like around 12 people joined. I had the calling about 18-21 months, I think.

    I was in Indiana doing a teaching degree back with my parents, hanging out between houses, eating with them both, living really well. Eating too well. I stayed close to a lot of my church mates; some I would play basketball with, others do fun activities or watch films. I would sing in the choir, and that was usually a good or great experience. We had dances and other fun things to do.

    Steve did not have a car; I am not sure if he could drive. He would depend on a few of us for rides. Dave lived closest to him, so he would be one of the first called on to pick him up. Paul, Andy, and I tended to help the other times. Sometimes he needed a favor to get somewhere, like the time that I took him to eastern Greene County. I cannot think of where Paul lived, but it could be a trip across town to get him, as well as Andy. Steve tried to live as best as he could, I recall. I did a trip to California over the winter break, and when I came back, I drove west of Bloomington into Ellettsville, where I guess he was staying with friends at a trailer.

    Over the Christmas break Steve had slipped as far as his faith commitments; he had smoked marijuana and I am pretty sure that he regretted it. I cannot recall all the details or our conversations about that or other things. The year of 1999 moved along; I moved away in the month of August to California.

    I would come back from the West Coast as a teacher or grad student and attend my home ward, changing from Bloomington First to University Ward, and sometimes I would see Steve in the pews. That might have been when my mom and step-father were preparing for their second mission, when they went to Indonesia. Surabaya on the island of Java.

    I don't remember if we spoke or not. I cannot remember exactly when he died. Maybe I found out from my step-dad Terry. My mom passed in 2014. I recall trying to let Dave, the one living close to him over twenty years ago, know that Steve had died. That seems like it was the summer of pandemic 2020.

    There is a lot more that I do not remember about Steve than I can recall. Suffice it to say, he was nice to me, he meant well, and years after his baptism I could tell he was trying to do the right thing. At least, that is how I interpreted that.

    There are small things that I remember, but things are still hazy, now well over twenty years ago, most of it last century. I remember distinct smells in his apartment in cold months at night, his curly hair, his humble appreciation for learning the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and the standards and doctrines of the Church. I have been committed to this faith all my life, and I enjoy seeing others have desires to learn and grow in it too.

    I am thankful that I was able to get to know Steve and serve him. I learned that he had a child when he was quite young, maybe 16. He was prohibited from seeing the son/daughter, as I understood it. This must have been hard. I cannot remember how I learned about, if he told me, how much he related to me.

    But I am confident that his next of kin will be all right, no matter how much or how little they knew of him.

    Last note: I looked up his obituary, and I will share it.

Steven D. Cowell Obituary - Bloomington, IN | The Funeral Chapel

    We never know who we might rub shoulders with, who we might influence or whom we will be influenced by. He died at age 44, in November of 2019. 

    The memory is a tricky thing.

    His obituary makes no mention of his belonging to or participating with the Church in Bloomington.

    Rest in Peace, Steve. See you in the Great Beyond, or somewhere.

    With Jesus and God all things are possible.

    Here is what I posted in his Funeral Chapel page, via Facebook.

Steve and I were friends in the late 1990s and we spent a good deal of time studying the holy scriptures and worshipping Jesus. We were involved in a lot of activities and worship at church. Steve would get rides with Dave A., who lived close by on Walnut, me, Andy A., and Paul S. I saw him at the chapel on Second Street after I moved away from Indiana to California. He seemed happy. God bless Steve for his kind spirit and love for God. Till we meet again, brother.

    

    

Respect for People's Tradition and the Queen

        The Queen of England passed away a few hours ago at age 96. She lived a very good life; she was a good person. England has the most famous monarchy in the world. Peoples of English-speaking backgrounds tend to pay more attention to the royals of Great Britain and the Windsor family. People refer to the Queen, at least in English, and we tend to think of her, this Queen, Elizabeth II. There are many other monarchies around the world. I spent the majority of the last year in country with a royal family. In the oil-rich Gulf area. There are many other royal families in Europe and in places like Polynesia. Asia. Africa.

    But England rules the roost, so to speak. I have respect and admiration for Windsor family of England. It is an ancient tradition, and they are good folks. They support the strong democracy in that great place where so many of us have our genes and roots from. The United Kingdom. A great ally, hard to find better.

    Some would argue that the royal family is a drag on the country's resources and that they should not receive so much attention or privilege. I understand such sentiments. Like many religions that seem to spend money and resources on things that seem less essential or frivolous, or even opulent and ostentatious.

    But when it comes to British traditions and symbols of their history, I as an American acknowledge it is what is. I understand how it is a beautiful system, it takes place in the British world, and ours. It is part and parcel of our world identity. We seek for meaning in people who are designated as our rulers and monarchs.

    God bless the Queen.

    My condolences to all who loved and cherish her. 

Top 100 Home Run Hitters I Have Seen Play in Person 

    I am pretty sure that I have seen (1) Barry Bonds, Junior play. I did not see him homer, but I saw the San Francisco Giants play the Dodgers at Chaves Ravine at least once. Maybe he was hurt that night, but I think I saw him. Barry may have cheated with Performance Enhancing Drugs, especially in his later years, but he was amazing.

    In 2007 when he surpassed the Great Babe Ruth in the all-time count, I was listening on my radio about 60 miles to the south. That was cool and memorable for me.

    I do not think that I saw Alex Rodriguez play in person. I saw the Yankees play live in 1997 and 1999, back when ARod was with the Mariners. Oh, and for the record, the Babe passed long before I was born. Henry Aaron retired in 1976 with the Brewers, a year before I saw my first major league game of the Pirates visiting the Reds in Cincinnati, Ohio. That game had at least one top hundred home run hitter. More on him later.

    I think that the next top long ball hitter that I saw in person was one of my all-time favorites, (2) The Big Hurt Frank Thomas. I saw the White Sox play in 1998, and again in Anaheim in 2000, or 2001. I believe the Sox had another top 100 guy or two, then. They should show up in this list.

   (3) Fred McGriff? Yes. I recall that memorably. That Sox game against the Angels. 2001. I think out first daughter was newly born, and the noise was a little much for her.

    (4) Adrian Beltre? Yes. Saw him in L.A. as a Dodger, likely 2000 or 2001 against the Expos. Perhaps again in 2002, or even 2003. I have seen the Dodgers in their home stadium more than anyone else. Even though I have still seen the Expos the most, even though they went defunct as such in 2004.

    (5?) I may have seen Willie Stargell as a Buc back in 1977, in Cincy, but he was out a lot that year, he only played 63 games. So perhaps not. I paid more attention to the Reds then, anyway.

    (6?) Did I see the Donkey Adam Dunn play in D.C? Maybe. It might have been an anniversary occasion with my wife. 2011? Not 2012, possibly 2010. If I saw him, it was in 2010 when the Nationals hosted the Royals. The next year he was signed with the White Sox.

    (7) Nelson Cruz. Had to go back and add him. I saw him play this season earlier in the summer at Camden Yards. Beautiful venue. It was rained out but saw an Oriole hit for the cycle in only 6 innings before the rain out, game called complete. Austin Hays. Would he ever make this list? Love me some Nelson. The man is 42 or so. Gettin' it done. Inspirational.

    (8?) It is possible that I saw Jose Canseco with the Sox in 2001, his last year in the majors. His only season with Chicago.

    (9) Vlad Guerrero. Yes, the visiting Expos of Montreal in the summer of 2000, in L.A. Pretty sure.

    (10) Paul Konerko and (11) Andre the Hawk Dawson? Yes, the former in the minors in Indianapolis, and later in the bigs in Chicago, and my man Andre in Chicago at the Friendly Confines in 1987, his best career year. I think I also saw Andre play a little against the Indy Indians as an exhibition in 1986. Good times with my dad and Jason Vincz.

    (12) Andres Galarraga? Yes, memorably in St. Louis in 1985. Likely again in 1986, '87, '88, and '89. The Big Cat.

    (13) Johnny Bench? Likely in Cincinnati in 1977. Part of the Big Red Machine. My first game ever, the game was delayed super later because of rain.

    (14) Jeff Kent. Yes, I think I saw him with the Giants visiting L.A. in 2002. Maybe he hit a homer? I should have taken notes... Great series between Frisco and Anaheim that fall.

    (15) Carlos Lee? El Caballo? It is possible I saw him with the White Sox in Anaheim in 2000. Man, the Pale Hose had some power hitters! Part time with McGriff and Canseco, but still...

    (16) Chili Davis? Possibly with the Yankees in '98 at Yankee Stadium against the Angels, or against the Sox at Comiskey Park in '99. Wow. A little research and conjecture does some wonders.

    (17). George Foster. Yes sir ree BOB. My first game ever, I think 1977, we were close to him in the outfield with the Reds, and there were some punk kids heckling him much of the game. He was an early hero, for sure. He hit 50 or so in 1979, which was admirable back then. No one the entire 1980s hit 50 or more home runs. Dawson was close in '87 with 49 dingers.

    (18?) Curtis Granderson with the Dodgers in 2017? At Nats' Park? It is possible we saw him play us that year, when my boy wanted to see a live game, and we got skunked 7-0. We saw some church friends on the metro-ride home. The mother is now our daughter's piano teacher. Yeah, baseball and memories is a funny thing.

    This was fun.

    I expect a couple more to make the majors that I have seen play, notably Bryce Harper. Did I see Juan the Truth Soto play live? Hmm... Maybe another Dodger or Royal that I observed in person. Or Oriole. Or even a Nat. Well, Josh Bell, now with the Padres... Time will tell.

    Also, I have seen quite a few minor league games (about 12) where some of those people in the minors did rise up and do it (less likely, such as Paul Konerko), and some who may still have a chance into the next two decades. We will know by 2040. Maybe.