Derby Fever

After meeting a roller derby rider last summer on the bike tour, intrigue and curiosity were in the air early Saturday evening for the first Detroit Derby Girl match of the new year (and my first ever) at the Masonic Temple in the D. In tow with me was Susan, her three daughters, and a friend of the daughters. As Susan's youngest is seven, there was a bit of hesitancy in bringing her to the scene as we didn't know what to expect. Would it be a cuss festival with people in the stands getting out of control? Would the derby girls be drawing blood via some fisticuffs? The answer to both was no and in a funny way, we were all kind of bummed that there wasn't at least a splash of it. The seven year old, with a bow in her hair, was yelling for a pile driver as we were leaving.

I guess I've seen Rollerball too many times as I was expecting the "arena" setting for the match to be more like a pit with the track on a slant but it was pretty much a dance hall with a flat wood floor and white outlines for the track. The place only holds a couple thousand and was packed. And yes, it was a people watching smorgasbord.

Lastly, while watching the match, I hear my name being called in the distance, look to my right and there is my sister, niece, and their friends. Small world.

Trail Head

 

me and my sis

Can't Get It Right

The tour went to the "D" last Thursday as Doke and I were in tourist mode, ready to give the city some of our hard-earned money. What better place to visit when in the "D" than the Motown museum, eh? My bus drives by it every morning but had never been to it. One would think the place would be hopping with a good portion of the work force off for the holiday. And it was!!! We ran into a handful of people with the same idea that early afternoon. So it's about 3 PM when we go to the front door and.....it's locked! There were no "back in 10" or "power out" signs or anything to signify why they were not wanting the public's money. It was just a shoulder shrug for us as we were local but one poor dude looked like he had driven quite a bit to see the place. He was on his cell phone trying to get some answers as we drove away. I'm sure the city's operators were anxiously awaiting his call.

Trail Head  

 

 

Fun With Scalpers



Twas three days before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse? Why wasn't anything stirring? It probably had something to do with most everybody I knew was out of town for the holiday and boredom was settling in Saturday.

I needed to get off the couch and do something, anything. The Christmas shopping was done two weeks ago so thankfully there would be no mall interaction. The frozen brown grass outside ruled out any winter activities and watching "Everybody Loves Raymond" re-runs (not everybody loves him)  just wasn't doing it for me. There was a ray of hope on the sports ticker; however, as the Spartans were playing hoops at two. My large melon had an idea; head to East Lansing and watch the game. The worst case scenario was there wouldn't be any scalpers with tickets and I'd go to an East Lansing watering hole to watch it.

Ah yes, the scalper. I learned about scalpers quite early in life. I didn't know what a ticket office was as my dad usually searched out the man pushing the grocery cart outside of Tiger Stadium. My favorite scalping story  involves a handful of my friends who shall remain nameless. They weren't looking for tickets though, they were looking for switchblades (silly kids). As I wasn't there, I'm going off of memory from the story so some of the details are sketchy. The story takes place in New York City sometime in the mid-late 80's. A group of friends go out there to visit a fellow Milford-ian going to school out there. I can't recall if the group was solicited or if one member went asking for them but regardless, an agreement was made for some switchblades in exchange for cash. The seller of said switchblades comes back with a paper bag that he gives to my friend and takes the cash. The group heads off, opens the bag, and in it is two Butterfinger candy bars. Waaa, waaaa....

Anyway, back to Saturday. As I've never been to an event where there weren't scalpers, it was of no surprise that I was met by a handful of very ethical individuals who were willing to give me the very best seats in the house, in their minds. How could so many people have the best seats in the house? In the scalping game, numbers are a good thing. As I was haggling with one guy (mind you, the game was just about to start), I gave him my final offer and started to walk towards another solicitor. My offer was accepted and off I went. While they weren't front row, center court, paying $10 for a pretty good lower level seat works for me so, as the poem ends......Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Trail Head



 

Shout Out To The 45-15 Brethren

The 45-15 plan, going to school all year round but getting a three week break every nine weeks. The rationale for the plan was that students tend to forget a lot during the summer break, so a shorter time away from school might increase retention rates. This is what a majority of the Tipsico Lake Rd./M-59 corridor kids did at Highland Elementary to offset their learning deficiencies (ha) while the tough-minded, Hickory Ridge corridor kids went the standard 180 days with spring and summer break mixed in at Apollo Elementary. 

All kidding aside, this entry goes out to two of those 45-15-er's who were in the headlines recently. Jim was literally in the headlines as he made the cover of The Central Line, a publication created by the Professional Ski Instructors of America. That is him in the red cruising down the hill somewhere out west.

Gus, on the other hand, got himself a nice eight-point buck at his annual hunt in Wyoming with the Dunham contingent. The girth on that deer should feed the Gus posse for some time.

Nice job 45-15-er's; take a three week break for old time's sake!

Trail Head

EDITORS NOTE: Some information was brought to my attention after this was posted in that Jim did indeed go to Highland Elementary, however, he was not part of the 45-15 program there. I thought everybody at Highland was on that program so my bad. You learn something new every day.

Alive at 45 - Thanks To All!

Many thanks go out this holiday of all holiday seasons; the opening day of hunting season I guess is okay for some but of course the birth of the big head forty five years ago (less a few days) takes the cake of them all! And what a four day celebration it was!

The first thank you goes out to everyone at Mixx Bar on Wednesday night for the pre-birthday celebration. I wasn't expecting the gifts but am thankful for them!



fancy tequila, supposedly

The second thank you goes out to Doke for the Thursday, one night road trip to the Windy City. The north "Loop" walking bar tour downtown never fails to deliver and deliver it did. It started harmlessly at about 3 PM Thursday at a bar called "Chill" right in the heart of the Loyola campus area. There we encountered bartender Hattie; a North Carolina transplant who ten or so years ago packed her bags from Wilmington one drunken night (not making this up) and headed north to live the midwest dream I guess. So the birthday boy sought out his first celebration shot and Hattie presented this tequila that was, according to the bar owner, created with the help of Jack Nicholson and only available in three bars in the world. Whatever; just give me a lemon with that please. The owner seemed insulted by my lemon request as it was supposedly so outstanding that a chaser wouldn't be needed. And yep, I had the tequila face after downing said shot.

From there the tour headed north to Mike Ditka's restaurant and who was there in attendance? None other than the owner himself. That is the second time I've seen him there so a gold star to Iron Mike for making sure a place with his name on it is doing it the right way. The place is A#1. 

While it was probably a blessing in disguise, I was surprised that when I threw out my "What do I get for my birthday?" line, a handful of bars advised I would get a "Happy Birthday" and a smile and that would be it. What's with that? But yes, it was probably for the best. One bartender advised she made the best Long Island Ice Tea in the city so I had to see for myself. It was quite delicious and of course it was probably just a coincidence that the evening got a bit blurry after that; you think?

Al C. dialing it in

The third thank you goes to north Dunham Beach resident Al C. for the lake float on Saturday. After returning home to the Motor City for a rest, it was just too nice of a day Saturday to lollygag and I didn't want to watch the Spartans lose again (they lost, surprise!). While the fish were nowhere to be found, the Dunham Lake experience is, as Seger says, good for the soul. The sun was out and it was just us and the birds.

The last thank you of course goes out to my parents for having that extra glass of wine that chilly February night 45 years ago. Thanks.....man!

Trail Head

Iron Mike

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

stressful

even got a mountain bike ride in!

 

November Bonus

It was a "turn back the clock" weekend as it felt like May. With that, the summer toys got another chance to play. My fellow Badwater fishermen had double digit pike production at Pontiac Lake while I had a goose egg at Proud Lake on Saturday. Besides a couple of duck hunters, I had the lake to myself so fish or no fish, fishing in shorts in November is a pretty cool thing.

A fine executive decision was made Sunday as rather than watch the woeful Lions, the motorcycle got dusted off and the back roads of Oakland, Genesee, and Livingston counties came calling. A hundred or so miles later and you have a soul that has been cleansed.  

Trail Head

Proud Lake



Lake Ponemah in the background

Pontiac Lake

 

Creative Ways of Losing - Defibrillator Prospects

Just when you thought there was no way State could lose a game more creatively, they topped themselves Saturday evening. I am hoping the two fellas seated in front of us for the game (pictured below) didn't need the defibrillator afterwards as I have never witnessed anyone get so irate over EVERY SINGLE PLAY! They weren't even happy when State scored a touchdown. There wasn't a thing you could have presented to them that would have brought on a positive outlook. An entry by the big guy upstairs onto the field through a light in the sky at halftime would of had them complaining about how "JC" didn't get his landing down good enough. It was a scene to behold. Yes, State managed to allow a team to drive 80 yards with a minute remaining and no timeouts; and yes, they are probably going to end up playing in the Vagisil Bowl, but fellas, come on, smile and enjoy the ride.

Losing aside, a great day it was. We thankfully didn't get shot at on the ride to East Lansing but I wasn't overly concerned as there was quite a police presence on I-96 and quite honestly, the wacko can go pretty much anywhere he wants, so we did what Americans do, we lived free! Upon arrival into town, Mark and I took a tour of our old stomping grounds and posed in front of our old residences from back in the day. Mark's old place on Lilac Street appears to be holding up better than the bunker on Spartan Street that I'm standing in front of below. My guess is the occupants of said homes were probably scratching their heads watching a couple of yuck yucks posing in front of their house (ha).
I'm obviously biased but State's campus still is A#1 as far as atmosphere.
Sparty On!
Trail Head

grump #1



grump #2
 



Rick, Chuck, Mark



the Spartan St. bunker

Mark's old crib on Lilac St. holding up well

the mighty Red Cedar