AirTran Airways

Sunday December 28, 2014 will mark the final day of operation for AirTran Airways.  Flight #001 will depart Atlanta at 1025 p.m. and arrive just before midnight at Tampa International Airport.  #001 was also the flight number on November 17, 1997 which was a flight from Tampa TO Atlanta, and was the first flight ever with the name AirTran Airways on it.

My first encounter with AirTran came in the fall of 2006.  I was working for Alamo/National Car Rental and not enjoying it very much at all. I was a staffing manager and my basic job was to hire and coordinate the drivers who move the cars to and from the shop and airport to the cleaners before and after the vehicles are rented.  It's a rather cold business, mostly because the emphasis is on the cars, or as they call them in the business "the metal", and not on the customers.  I worked a lot with careeerbuilder.com as far as finding new employees as we were turning over our staff with a ridiculous level of frequency.  One night at home I decided to send my resume to them under the category of "airline" and came up with two possibilities.  One was AirTran and another was ATA (American Trans Air). I sent them in with not much confidence that I would hear anything from either.

In mid-October I received a call from AirTran asking if I was still interested in interviewing for a position.  I said certainly and I did so on October 23rd.  I passed step one and was told that I would be off to Atlanta for training on the 28th.  So I spent my birthday traveling do Dixie for a week of who knows what. I was excited and scared to death on day one as I stepped into the orientation classroom with about 100 other candidates from around the country.  I did the best I could for the week and even though I knew I was probably going to "make the grade", I didn't know for sure until my instructor, Steve Goehring, placed my first name tag in front  of my keyboard.

I got back home to Minneapolis and started the following day. I had not yet left Alamo/National and decided to continue there part-time until I either had my position filled or my mind turned to mush- whichever came first. But I worked both jobs until May when, you guessed it- my mind turned to mush.

I enjoyed the job a great deal. Working the ticket counter, at the gate and in the baggage services office. We had great little thing going even though many of our passengers had never heard of us before, but those who had were incredibly loyal.  They having been refugees from their experiences with Delta and being treated so badly by them in the past. Many people got our name wrong when telling us which airline they were booked on. "Trans Air", "Trans Am" and Air Trans Am" were the ones I heard most often.

I would go down to Atlanta for training sessions to the original training facility which was in an office park near the airport. It was as unassuming a place from the outside as it could possibly be. It was minimal at best and looking back on it now it was ancient by the standards of what I get to go to today.  It had basically one restroom each for men and women, a pretty small area for dining with 8x10 photos of every training class on the walls.  It was always kinda cool to find your own class and wonder how many of those people were even still with the airline. I recall the first sign on the wall that stood out to me. It stated, "LATE IS NOT AN OPTION". That simple phrase stuck with me from my first visit there until my last. It had an area outside where we were forbidden to step on the grass which was between the building and the parking lot. Over the years I heard about more than one trainee who tried to "stretch the envelope" by walking on that grass and found a one-way ticket on the table in front of their chair in the training room later that day.  Our bus driver was a woman who must've had the aforementioned sign about being late tattooed inside of her eyelids because if you were not at the predetermined pickup location at the scheduled time, you were going to be calling for one of the ATL's taxi services. And she drove that bus like when was handling a sports car.  She would miss trees, sidewalks, buildings, other buses and sometimes people with only enough room to slide 2 sheets of typing paper between them. I'm sure she could've driven NASCAR if she'd wanted to.  Eventually we moved to cushier digs a little further away, across from the Boeing simulator building.  This was posh by comparison to say the least. Those who had been at the original facility knew that we were on the rise.

Virtually every week I would have a pilot of ours ask me during a conversation, "Any news, any rumors?" And the answer would usually be that I'd heard that this might happen or that might happen but nothing really substantial followed. But as things progressed during my first few years I knew that something was bound to happen eventually. That's just the nature of the industry.

I was heading to Atlanta for a training session on the morning of November 28, 2010 when I got the news that we had been purchased by Southwest Airlines.  Now, Southwest had moved into the Minneapolis market in March of 2009, at the counter right next to us in the space formerly occupied by Champion Air. It seemed like a logical move as we had just about grown to as much of a market share as far as destinations were concerned, as we could have. I literally found out while siting on the aircraft which would take me to Atlanta. I remember looking out the window at the Southwest jet parked only three gates away and wondering what the future would hold for us at AirTran.

We knew that there would be growing pains and that the nice folks we'd worked alongside of for the past 18 months were going to be our co-workers within the next two years or so as the merger process moved forward.  We would need to learn their computer system and they would need to learn ours. Their's was infinitely simpler to operate as we at AirTran had a system that reminded me of ms-Dos (you youngsters will have to google that) in that it is basically command-based with absolutely no drop-downs and virtually no on-screen help.

It was interesting to see pilots and flight attendants whom I had known in one uniform show up at my gate wearing different colors with new name badges and new employee numbers.  I share a common thread along with them that others do not. I was always pleased to meet fellow AirTran employees who had been with us since the ValuJet days. These nice people had FOUR-digit employee numbers. I was in mild awe, to say the least.

Over time I have come to realize that many of the employees of airlines have worked for more than one airline. I became one of them in September of 2012.

So as the AirTran name disappears from the active list of airlines I take great pride in the work that we did under the teal-colored script lower-cased "a". They were the first airline to give me the chance to do a job which will hopefully take me to my retirement some 20 years or so from now, I would suspect.  I know there are many others who feel the same sense of pride. For while we all are grateful to be in the employ of the largest domestic-flying airline in the United States, there will always be, just under the bold Canyon Blue of Southwest Airlines the ever-present beat of that lower-cased teal "a" that binds us together.

Tomorrow marks the last day of operation for my original airline employer, AirTran Airways. Today's my blog talks about how I got there and some of my experience there.

It is dedicated to those who worked with me under the "a" (In first-name alphabetical order):

Allison Northrup, Amber Havelak, Andrea Urbanski, Angie Sitko, Austen Barranco, Briana Walsh, Casey Fritz, Christine Edwards, Christopher Anderson, Colie Minucci, Colleen Shellum, Cory Petersen, Cris Godoy Franchevich, Dang Tran, David Fox, Deeq Sayed, David Tinetti, Ed Walz, Elham Ferdowsi, Eric Kloepfer, Erica Lynch, Irv Adams, Jaine Lafay Nelson, James Richards, Jan Gottschalk, Janey Roddy, Jason Harens, Jill Christine, John Hillman, Kate Kranz Dennison, Keesha Smith, Kevin Inkman, Leon Weaver, Mark F.E. Barie, Mary Louise Knoblauch, Matthew Volpe, Meghan Chapin, Mike Zirbel, Nikki Williams Locky, Pamela Aanenson, Rob Kneusel, Sara Gavin, Tina Fleming, Tracy Johnson Wagner, Valley Hintzen and Wilfred Johnson.

So tomorrow, when flight #23 leaves Minneapolis it will take a small piece of me with it. But I know where it's going. For as one of our passengers once told me about six years ago, "I don't know if I'm going to heaven or hell but I know ONE thing. It's gonna be via Atlanta!"

............I'm just sayin'.

The Best Worst Flight Ever (The Story of Flight 1439)

It started off like many winter days at the Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport. Disregard the fact that winter wasn't due to officially start for another 10 days.  Saturday December 11, 2010 promised to be full of challenges what with a heavy snowfall on the way.  My shift started at noon and I headed upstairs to gate H10 at the Humphrey Terminal to work AirTran Airways flight 1439 to Orlando.  The flight was due to depart at 1:55pm.

The weather had gotten increasingly worse from the time I had left my home only 9 miles from the airport.  The steady snowfall had already started to wreak havoc on the flight schedules of each of the airlines at both MSP terminals. More and more flights were being delayed and delayed substantially.

We received word that the inbound aircraft for this flight was delayed and there existed the possibility that the inbound flight would cancel due to the weather conditions in the Twin Cities.

I attempted to keep the passengers in the gate area informed as to what was going to happen as soon as I received word myself.  The display boards showed an increasing number of flights canceling as the afternoon progressed.  We finally received word that the inbound flight from Orlando was on its way.  The flight was due to arrive around 6pm. But there was going to be a problem once the aircraft arrived. A problem which would not show up on any display board at the airport. The crew onboard was going to have "timed-out" and would be unable to fly the aircraft back to Orlando, if the flight took place at all. By this time the original flight crew for 1439 had returned to the crew hotel to await further instructions and would be contacted later, if needed.

I gave the good news/bad news announcement and the crowd took it fairly well.  But there was a backup plan.  There was going to be another aircraft arriving from Atlanta which we would use to go to Orlando.  With this established, I told the crowd to anticipate a departure somewhere in the neighborhood of 6:45 p.m.  

As time continued to pass, the display board showed that every outbound flight from every other airline at either terminal had been cancelled.  All, except for AirTran flight FL1439.  I don't know why every other flight at the airport had cancelled.  Beyond the fact that the Metropolitan Airports Commission could only keep one runway open at a time, I was kinda mystified as to how this day had developed in such a manner.  But we had not received word that the flight was canceling and thus my job tells me that I need to work the flight I had been assigned until it departs or is cancelled and the passengers are suitably rebooked.  

The inbound flight from Atlanta finally arrived around 6:15.  The Boeing 717 carrying the paint scheme of the Indianapolis Colts, through a corporate sponsorship deal, pulled into gate H10.  This would be the aircraft we would use to go to Orlando.  There was much anticipation by the 97 passengers when the aircraft arrived that we would be leaving soon.  After the inbound passengers deplaned, we quickly lined up all of the passengers and they boarded  in an attempt to leave in the small window of time which we would use during the light snowfall period we were in.  With all passengers onboard I went down to the cockpit to verify the passenger count with the pilot and give the "all clear" to 
the crew.  It was at this time that the pilot looks me in the eye and says these words, "It's broken.  We have to take everyone off the aircraft."  I thought he was just pulling my leg.  Turns out he wasn't pulling ANYTHING and the plane indeed would not be useable for this flight.

I run back up the jetway and prepared for the tongue-lashing that was to follow.  I felt so badly for these nice folks as now they were back to square one.  I did have one ace-in-the-hole.  Now that the flight delay was mechanical in nature and no longer just weather-related, I could give all of the passengers a free round-trip ticket to be used in the next 365 days.  

I settled everyone back into the seating area and told them they would be receiving 

the vouchers and they all felt better immediately.  I knew that we had one last chance to get this flight out today and that would be the last inbound flight into MSP for AirTran that day.  It was due to arrive at around 9 pm and we would use THAT aircraft to go to Orlando.

Now, I'd had a chance to get to know a number of these nice people.  About a dozen of them were on their way to Ft. Lauderdale to catch a cruise on the following afternoon.  The problem would be in getting TO Ft. Lauderdale.  I suggested that they rent a vehicle and pitch-in together and drive to Ft. Lauderdale and make the cruise in time.  I went onto the internet and made the reservation with one of their names as the primary driver and they would be set.  

When the inbound aircraft touched down in Minny, it needed to be "marshaled" in to the gate. Marshaling is what the guys holding flashlights are doing when the plane pulls into the gate.  But there needs to be three marshalers to do this safely and in the way the FAA would prefer.  Shortly before the inbound flight landed I received a call on the radio from a couple of our grounds crew members.  They had gone over to terminal 1 for something, probably something warm to drink, and when they returned to the ramp vehicle its doors had frozen shut.  It would probably be 30 minutes before they would get back to terminal 2 to meet this aircraft. With only two people available to marshal the plane into the gate I did the only thing I could.  I ran down the jetway, out onto the tarmac, found a couple of flashlights and helped bring it in.  No gloves, only a sport coat over my dress shirt, and in temps that with windchill were approaching zero.  After the plane stopped I ran back up the jetway, first to open the cabin door and greet the flight attendant and to warm up as quickly as possible.  When I got through the door leading into the terminal itself many of the awaiting passengers had seen my efforts and started to stand and applaud.  I was so humbled that I nearly hid behind the podium.  

When I caught my breath I said to the crowd, over the microphone, "If you've liked the service you got from me today, my name is Rod.  If you haven't liked the service you got from me today, my name is Bruce."  Everyone had a good laugh and then I said, a capable, "Let's go to Florida!" To which everyone cheered. The boarding began right after that.

Many of the passengers asked me for comment cards and took them with them as they boarded the aircraft.  The passengers then boarded the new aircraft after the new crew did their safety checks. I performed the "all clear" with the crew and as I did the seated passengers sent me off with another round of applause.  

It was nearing 10:30 p.m. when the aircraft door closed and I was frozen, exhausted but incredibly jazzed for the appreciation shown by these people. For the record some 17.1 inches of snow fell and the roof of the Metrodome, a building in which I once had an office with my name on the door, collapsed from the weight of the snow about 7 hours after the flight departed.

I received 15 comment cards, which led my manager, Irv Adams, to ask me if I had paid them to do so.  He was joking, yes, but I didn't blame him.  In the next year I saw about a dozen of those passengers when they were flying on trips when they used their free vouchers. What a great feeling it was to see them again because even while I couldn't recall them, they certainly remembered me.

It has been nine years already since this event and I think of it fondly and often, especially during the winter months. One of them actually met a gentleman on the cruise out of Ft. Laudredale whom she later married and has started a family with.  She even invited me to the wedding and I've met her husband and the kids in her travels since.  I'm still in contact with a couple of others  on Facebook to this day, one whom I saw only two weeks ago.  Hard to believe it has been nine years.


It was the best worst flight I've ever worked....so far.


...............I'm just sayin'.

Wookie of the Year

During the 1999 season Major League Baseball decided to have a promotion called "Turn Ahead The Clock"which was sponsored by Century 21.  

The Minnesota Twins participated during their game against the Seattle Mariners on July 24th. The Twins were planning futuristic costumes for the game. They invited fans to participate if they were so inclined.  We had our on-field announcer, one Jim Cunningham, wore a Star Trek shirt ala James T. Kirk. He looked dashing pretty cool, to say the least.  But what do I have to do with this story? Well...

The Twins had contacted a gentleman who owned one of the NINE original Chewbacca costumes from the first three Star Wars films (which we later learned were the last three Star Wars films).  The plan was for him to wear the costume during the game and walk through the concourses and mingle with the crowd.  But at the last minute, the owner had an obligation which would prevent him from wearing the costume on game night.  An e-mail was sent through the Twins front office letting us know that they needed a volunteer to wear said costume.  I fit the criteria: I was taller than 6 feet and I could fill the costume.  So I volunteered and I was just about set to make it happen.

Now, I was not well versed with Chewy, as I had not seen the films in which he appeared.  So my good friend and current Twins Vice-President Dave Horsman loaned me his VIDEO TAPES (google it, kids) so that I could take a crash course in Chewy's mannerisms and sounds.  I stayed up late and worked on the distinctive "speech" which Chewy uses to communicate.  

I made my way down to the ballpark and "suited-up".  Not many people knew who it was, but I would try to give hand clues for those in the front office, much like a roving game of Charades.  

I was in the dugout and on the field during the pre game festivities.  I was having a blast.  I roamed the concourses in the heavy costume on a night when the temperature at game time was 97 degrees.  While I didn't have to go outside for very long I still had to pass the gates when moving throughout the concourse.  I loved enjoying interacting with the kids and taking numerous photos during the game.  I actually met Tiger Woods during batting practice, while in costume, although I'm sure he's forgotten our meeting long since.  

During the game the Mariner left fielder, Butch Huskey, went back on a ball hit over his head by Jacque Jones.  He got to the warning track and then forgot what the track was warning him about.  He then proceeded to face plant himself and nearly knock himself out cold.  The next night someone ( I know not whom) made a chalk outline of Butch on the outfield wall with chalk.  It was fantastic! (Check it out on youtube).

The Twins won the game that night and I was on the field and in the celebratory line as the team came off the field.  The only time in my life when that has happened, but oh so cool to say the least.

After the team made their way up the stairs toward the clubhouse I stayed on the field and stood on home plate, clapping my hands over my head, with "Good Times" by Chic blaring on the stadium speakers.  Talk about a surreal moment.  

Fast forward about a week.  

I'm delivering some items to the ticket office on the afternoon and Mike Stiles says to me, "Nice picture in the Sporting News!"  I said, "What are you talking about?"  It turns out that he had a copy and showed me. Turns out that during the pre game I was sitting with pitcher Joe Mays and catcher Terry Steinbach just chatting about who knows what.  Anyhow, I never saw a photographer during those few minutes, but apparently there was one, who got the photo published in full color on page 3 of that week's Sporting News.  

After work I tried to buy as many copies as I could get my hands on.  I believe I ended up with nine.  

That's the photo which appears in the Facebook.

It was one of the most amazing events of my life.  And now you know something else about me that you never knew.  That is, if you care at all.  But since you took the time to read this whole thing, I'm guessing you did.

.........I'm just sayin'.

Addendum:  Fast forward 17 years later.  

I attend 2016 New York Mets Fantasy Camp in Port St. Lucie, Florida.  Prior to traveling to Florida I found out that one of the returning former Met players who would be attending would be one Butch Huskey, who appears in this blog posting.  

I had received a couple of the extra jerseys from the game that night which were blank without names and numbers on them.  I took one of them with me and presented it to Butch in the clubhouse as he had a locker stall almost directly behind my own.  He had not seen one of these jerseys in over a decade and I gave it to him along with a set of numbers and letters which he could have stitched on to make it appear like the one which he wore in the game that evening.  He informed me that teammates Jay Buhner and Ken Griffey, Jr. were responsible for the chalk outline on the outfield wall the next day.  

So now he has a jersey from that infamous event.  And now the circle to THAT story is indeed closed.

...............I'm just sayin'

Simon Says

Okay, this story has nothing really to do with the TSA, but it could if they decide that they decide that the current criteria aren't quite aggravating enough.

In the spring of 2007 I was working at the Minneapolis/St. Paul International Airport for AirTran Airways.  I was working at gate 10 of the Humphrey Terminal.  The flight I was working was a non-stop from Minneapolis to Orlando, Florida. The flight was going to be delayed a couple of hours because of severe weather in the Twin Cities.  

My co-worker on the flight was Christine Edwards. A great co-worker and someone who always was able to find something to laugh about on a very tough day at work.  We knew that we were not going to have an aircraft for at least two hours from the time we arrived at the gate, so we did some mild brainstorming as to how we were going to keep these people and their excited children entertained.  More accurately, how were we going to keep each other entertained.  

I had an idea which was only humorous only in my head.  We had a large expanse of carpeted area and I thought about these 30 or so kids playing "Red Light, Green Light".  But I quickly envisioned a 13-year old boy just obliterating the 6-year old girl who stopped short in front of him on the way to the front wall.  I also saw in my mind's eye a kid who looked like Goldberg from the first "Mighty Ducks" film just pancaking an unsuspecting Urkel-looking kid after not being able to stop his momentum as he ran toward the front wall.  

But Christine came up with the solution.

Simon Says.

It was a stroke of genius.  Truly, a stroke of genius.  

So I got on the p.a. and told the passengers in the gate area that we would be playing Simon Says in the large carpeted area. If they were okay with their kids playing, go ahead and send them over to us and the game would begin.

I've always enjoyed Simon Says, but as an adult you don't get to play it very often.  I recalled the Saturday afternoons when I was a teen watching The Superstars on ABC.  They had a segment on the show which involved a guy who did a great job of playing the game with these athletes.  

I looked in front of me and there were probably 20-22 kids, ranging from the ages of 6-15. I had a hard time starting from scratch, but quickly got into the flow of things, keeping things very simple for quite a while as to not discourage kids from playing and keeping them entertained as much as possible.

I weeded through the kids until I got down to the last three, all aged in their early teens.  They were tough and I knew that I would need to be sharp in order to dispatch them quickly and start another game shortly thereafter.  

I got down to the final two and I duped the younger boy and raised the hand of the winner.  I announced that we were going to play again, knowing that our inbound aircraft was still en route.  

Everyone who played the first game came back for the second and the second game didn't last ask ing as the first, although it was just as difficult to dispatch the last few as it had been in game one.

I raised the hand of the game two winner just as Christine yelled my name and said that our aircraft was "on the ground".  There was a round of applause when she made the announcement and I stepped over to the microphone and told all of the kids "thank you" for playing and asked their parents to "see if Northwest will do that for ya".  There was much laughter after the comment.

It was one of the most uncommon things I have done in my 15+ years in the industry, but I will always remember it.  One amazing fact is that the photo, which can be seen on my Facebook page, was taken by a frequent flyer who gave me a copy.  She just happened to be on that same flight that day. It further reminds me of my great experience. 

There are many days in my job which are better left unmentioned after they are over.  But every once in a while a gem shows up. Just enough to make one look forward to tomorrow.

I'm just sayin'.

The Carlton Dance

I'm old.  Sometimes I'm older than I believe I am.  Disregard the fact that people often tell me that I don't appear to be aging as quickly as anyone else.  Back in the summer of 2014 I had been noticing photos with text beginning with "TBT". I couldn't figure out what it stood for until someone told me it turned out to be "Turn Back Thursday".  

I was intrigued as I thought of what I may be able to post on a random Thursday.  I began to think of what photos I may have which would be entertaining to anyone but myself.  

My first entry into this realm of "hipness" came on the first Thursday of June of 2014. The photos I uploaded on Facebook were of myself and some photos from my season of coaching the 2001 Burnsville (MN) traveling fastpitch softball team.

I remember that season quite fondly.  I had coached various teams, both in-house and traveling, in Burnsville, MN. I love the game of baseball and I love coaching/teaching the game at different age levels.  I would typically move from team to team as I have no children of my own, attempting to make the program better at all stops.

On the day that I first met my team that year I had decided that I would make an entrance which was "different".  I had the players show up at the high school on a Saturday afternoon.  At the time that our meeting was supposed to start, the team was greeted by Minnesota Twins mascot, T.C. Bear.  The bear visited for a few minutes and then came to get me in the parking lot and show me where the team was.  I made my way up to the field and asked why everyone looked so perplexed when I arrived. The looks on the players' faces were priceless.  And so the 2001 season was underway.

We had a good team. We had "bit players" who were able to fill in where we needed them.  I was quickly told that one of my best players had been injured just prior to the start of the traveling season.  This made no real difference to me because I wanted to make this team great on its own merit.  

My assistant coach was a very nice gentleman named Larry Yandle, who always got me enthused when he would shout, "C'mon'! C'mon, now!" in his great Carolina-based accent.  Larry's daughter was my third baseman and Larry was a great asset to the team.  

I told many tales to the girls during the season, but they were most intrigued by the fact that I was in the employ of the front office with the Minnesota Twins.  My third baseman had a huge crush on Twins' first baseman, Doug Mientkliewicz. I used to call her "Mientkiewicz" when we played.  For those of you who do not know how to pronounce that name, phonetically it would look like "Mint-kaay-vitch". 

One of the favorite stories they enjoyed was one which involved Twins then-cathcer A.J. Pierzynski. A.J.played for the Twins from 1998-2003 and played 18 years for seven different teams, winning a World Series with the White Sox in 2005.  A.J. was along with me on a winter promotional tour in January 2001 called "Twins Caravan".  We started in Winnipeg, Manitoba and then made our way back toward the Twin Cites over a four-day period.  One of my favorite moments of the trip was on the last night of the Caravan we left Duluth and ended up stopping in Hinckley at a restaurant called Tobie's.  I had dinner with A.J. and hall-of-gamer Harmon Killebrew. On the way back to the cities we discussed a wide range of subjects including baseball superstitions and the like. 

But on the night first night of Caravan we were at a night club which was the site of an autograph session.  As the night got later on, the tunes being played by the deejay got more and more contemporary.  It was a good mix as the songs moved through the decades.  But at about 1:30 a.m. the group decided it was about time to hit the road for the hotel.  But on the way our of the club, I made a fatal faux pas.  The song playing on the way out was a little ditty called "She Bangs" by Ricky Martin. My error? I was singing along with the song, not missing any words, within earshot of Mr. Pierzynski.  As we got into the car, along with third baseman Corey Koskie, and headed for the local Burger King for some late-night grease, A.J. overheard me and says to me, "No! You do NOT know the words to this song?! You didn't even recognize the last Destiny's Child song! You are the whitest brother I know. I'm just gonna call you Carlton." And so it was born. My nickname for the promotional week had been established.  

I told the players that story and they thought it to be incredibly amusing.  They immediately wanted me to perform the Carlton Dance, performed by the tv character Carlton Banks, played by Alfonzo Ribeiro on the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.  I told them that I would do so sometime during the season.  

We had a tournament in Rochester in August of 2001 and on the Saturday of that weekend we played a few games in the morning but were not scheduled to play again for about 5 hours until our late game. It was decided to take the ladies to the movies in order to get out of the 100-degree weather.  The only film playing at the time at the theatre near the complex was "Jurassic Park 3."  An epic motion picture...........would NOT be used in the description of this movie.  I enjoyed the original and even liked the sequel, but this is one of those pics that would've been better of not being made. But it did serve the primary intended purpose. We started the game rather slowly that evening and we found ourselves down by three runs to our opponents with only two at bats remaining. I gathered them around and told them that if they were to string together a rally and we could pull this game out, I would do the dance on the mound at the end of the game. 

Well, don'tcha know what happened next. The focus that these players had after that was kinda frightening. We hit like we had invented the game for those two innings and we scored 5 runs to go ahead. We closed out the win and I was shown to the pitching circle where I then proceeded to do the dance as the players sang the song aloud. 

The season quickly drew to a close and I decided to give the team a party in a suite at the Metrodome.  We were on the field and they met many of their favorite players.  I believe we were playing Cleveland and my shortstop Jenny got a chance to meet one of her favorite players, Omar Vizquel. We had a great time that evening to be sure.  

I pretty much knew when the season started that I was going to be relieved of my duties as coach of this team at season's end. I had no children in the program and there were fathers who were chomping at the bit to coach the team who would be an early-season favorite to win a championship in 2002. That's how it works in traveling sports. It's even worse now than it was back then. I took the "dismissal" with mixed emotions. Politics and too much parental involvement in traveling youth sports is such a huge issue that I was probably going to be better off getting out of the program with a hearty handshake from the people who gave me the chance to coach the team in the first place.

I've actually gotten in touch with a number of players from my 2001 team via something called facespace or mybook or instafart or something like that. They are all nearing their 35th birthdays and a scary fact, to say the least. A few of them have gotten married and started families of their own by now. But all have turned into beautiful women and I am so pleased to have reconnected with them in a small way.  

We had a lot of fun and I will always remember that season for many reasons. I  probably didn't have the chance to thank them back then, because 18-year old girls aren't usually interested all that much in what 40-year old guys who aren't their fathers have to say. Even those who ARE their fathers for that matter.

Well, that's my story. I think I hear Tom Jones singing "It's Not Unusual" faintly in the background. Maybe he'll do "What's New Pussycat" next. One can only hope.

.....I'm just saying'.

The New York Rangers

There was a time when the National Hockey League did not consist of teams in every time zone in North America.  There was not anything like NHL Center Ice on DirecTv.  There was no satellite radio to follow your favorite team.  Finding a score was not as easy as just logging onto the internet and getting an update.  But if you worked at it, you could get it done.

I was a fan of the New York Rangers when I grew up.  There were only 14 teams in the NHL when I picked up the hockey bug.  I grew to know and love players like Vic Hadfield, Pete Stemkowski, Ron Greschner, Bill Fairbairn, Walt Tkaczuk, Brad Park, Ed Giacomin, Gilles Villemure and two of my favorites Rod Gilbert, who shared a first name with myself and my favorite player Jean Ratelle.  Those were my original Broadway Blueshirts.  

The schedule was much more balanced than it is today. On a typical week the Rangers would be on television on WOR Channel 9 in New York, which was close enough for me to see from my bedroom in Stamford, Connecticut.  Jim Gordon and Bill "The Big Whistle" Chadwick on the call on Saturday nights on the road.  Often the between-period interviews were with people I had never heard of like Punch Imlach, King Clancy and a man who STILL terrorizes Canadians on Hockey Night in Canada, one Don Cherry.  If you've never seen Don Cherry, his sport coats make those belonging to Lindsay Nelson or Craig Sager look like they're wearing Members Only jackets.  Chadwick had been a referee in is previous vocation and was incredibly enthusiastic towards the Rangers.  I enjoyed him a great deal. 

That was how I spent my Saturday nights.  Even into high school, that was my Saturdays.  I didn't date in high school and my Fridays nights were usually spent hanging out with my best friend Allen Kramer, usually bowling  in Greenwich and eating too many frosty desserts at Wendy's.  Sunday nights were more subdued as games were not available on television so I would tune in the games on the radio for the call by the wonderful Marv Albert along with his sidekick Sal Messina.  It was a great way to end the weekend, as I did my homework, which I should probably have completed on Friday afternoon after school.  Marv was also calling Knicks games at that time too.  He sounded just as great then, maybe better, than he does even today.  

In the spring of my senior year of high school the Rangers made it to the Stanley Cup finals against the Montreal Canadiens.  I really thought that they would win their first cup in my lifetime and for the first time in 39 years.  They actually won game one at the Montreal Forum and then darkness fell.  It was over in five and the Rangers would not advance to the Finals for another 15 years.  

I moved to Florida to follow an education in Tampa and quickly discovered that hockey did not exist in the Sunshine State.  I was once visiting my parents one weekend in Bradenton and listening to WKXY-AM radio.  The deejay gave the sports scores but got to the hockey scores and actually said, "Eh, it's hockey. We're in Florida.  Nobody cares."  So when I arrived at my parents' home I called the station and told said deejay that there WERE some people in the state who were from the northern climbs and we would appreciate giving ALL of the evening's scores.  He gave the hockey scores at the next break from the tunes he was spinning for us on the Mighty 930 AM. (I didn't have FM radio in my car for another few years).

1994 was a magic season with magical players.  Former adversaries Kevin Lowe and Jeff Beukeboom, Steve Larmer, Adam Graves, home-grown Brian Leetch and the ultimate former adversary, one Mark Messier put together a monster season which followed a player strike which cut the season to 48 games.  With playoff series wins over the Islanders, Capitals, Devils and then over the Vancouver Canucks the Rangers won their first Stanley Cup in my lifetime.  Talk about something I never thought I would see.

The Rangers have struggled along for two decades now and are less than 24 hours away from the opening game of the 2014 Stanley Cup Finals.  Their opponents are the Los Angeles Kings, a team born from the 1967 NHL expansion.  They have won a Cup since the Rangers last have, and as far as I'm concerned that's enough.  The last time I really paid attention to the Kings was when they wore these gaudy uniforms which looked like the Minnesota Vikings on ice, with players named Rogie Vachon and Marcel Dionne.  They played at a place called the Forum and they weren't very good.  

One of my greatest thrills at a sporting event was starting the "Let's Go Rangers" chant at a game at Madison Square Garden a number of seasons ago.  I had done it in my bedroom as a teen and there I was, at the World's Most Famous Arena, starting 17,000+ fans on my own.  Tomorrow I will start it again in my man cave.  Join me, won't you? Apparently game one is at a large office supply store in Los Angeles.  

I'm just saying'..........

The Mets and June 1st

If you've read most or all of my blogs to this point, you know one very important thing about me. 

I love bacon.  

Now, as truthful as that statement is, I haven't mentioned that fact in any of my blogs........yet. But what I meant to say was that I love the New......York......Mets. I grew up a Met fan in Stamford, Connecticut. Watching them on WOR-TV Channel 9 in New York with my aunt Bea (yes, just like Opie Taylor) in her apartment which was downstairs from the floor where my family lived. We would shake our heads un unison at some of the many faux pas they would make and marvel when they made plays that looked like they'd actually gone to rehearsal recently. She collected every Mets yearbook, including the original issue in 1962, and handed them over to me to continue the tradition. This year I completed the set and now have a copy of every one of them. 

I would listen to the games on my Radio Shack transistor radio (Google THAT, kids) under my pillow at night on school nights, falling asleep to the voices of Lindsay Nelson, Bob Murphy and Ralph Kiner. Sometimes I would turn my black & white tv on and turn the brightness control down in order to keep the room dark as to not tip off my mom by having any light showing from under the door.  Some of you may not even know what a brightness control on a television is or that at one time they had them at all. Trust me, it had nothing to do with the IQ of the user of the television.

Bea was in the stands at Shea Stadium in October of 1969 on the afternoon of game 5 when they won their first World Championship and I was in New York on the night they won their second in 1986. They should've won another by now. 1988 comes to mind first off. They lost to the Dodgers in the NLCS 4 games to 3 after dominating them during the regular season, winning 10 of their 11 meetings. But then we wouldn't have had the whole Kirk Gibson/Roy Hobbs moment in game one and all that came after that, would we? 

They should've gone to the Series in 2006, but alas, the Cardinals and Yadier Molina got in our way that year. Endy Chavez's phenomenal catch had us all thinking that it was a done deal. Just before Adam Wainwright went into his windup before the final pitch of game 7 I uttered two words out loud. "Curve ball" crossed my lips as though I'd found the solution to the ending of a movie like "Inception" but was powerless to make it worth anything because I was in Minneapolis and Carlos Beltran was in Flushing, New York. Howie Rose told me the outcome through my car's speakers and the Cards were off to the World Series to beat up on the Tigers. How did I know what the pitch would be? Especially since I couldn't see Molina's signs over the radio waves? Because I knew that Beltran was looking for a fastball and Wainwright wasn't gonna bring it. I didn't want to be right about that, I just was. 

The orange and blue have frustrated me extensively for many years since that night, but on one glorious late-spring evening it all went away, just for a moment. 

The Mets had come close to ho-hitters in the past, most notably the Tom Seaver gem in 1969 against the Cubs when he had a perfect game broken up by Jimmy Qualls. I, like most Met fans, pretty much got comfortable with the notion that the team would NEVER have a pitcher throw a no-hitter.  Going into 2012 the San Diego Padres were the only other team to not have had a no-hitter thrown for them.

I've been lucky enough to see two no-hitters in person.  Both were at the Metrodome in Minneapolis.  The first was by Scott Erickson on April 27, 1994 and the second by Eric Milton on September 11, 1999.

But on June 1, 2012 the Mets hosted the Cardinals at New Shea. It says CitiField on the tickets and on the signs and virtually everything else.  But those of us who are real Met fans know better.  The Cardinals were the defending World Champs.  But on this night Johan was "on".  There were two crucial moments during the game.  In the sixth inning former-Met Carlos Beltran led off and hit a scorcher down the third base line.  The ball he hit actually did hit the foul line but umpire Adrian Johnson missed the call. If replay had been in use at that time the call would no doubt have been reversed and the no-hitter would've been over at that exact moment. Then again, if there had been replay the Cardinals would've been World Series champions in 1985 and Don Denkinger's name would be known only in his own home.

In the seventh inning with one out, Yadier Molina (yes, him again) hit a ball into the left centerfield alley which was run down and caught by outfielder Mike Baxter, who grew up only 10 minutes away from the ballpark.

With those heart-stoping moments behind him Santana honed-in on his goal and on his 134th pitch of the game he struck out David Freese to close it out and the Mets had their first ho-hitter as a franchise.  As I heard Gary Cohen, the tv voice of the Mets report the event as I watched, I thought about the fact that I never thought this would happen. Keith Hernandez asked Cohen if he ever thought this would happen. Without skipping a beat Cohen answered "No." I also realized that I was shedding a few tears of happiness.  My wife and converted Met fan Bryn looked at me and said, "Are you...crying?" And while slowly shaking my head from side to side and in a quiet partly-cracking voice I said, "You don't understand. This was something we knew would never actually happen." I did not anticipate this at all.  But it stands to reason.  When you feel as passionately about a team as I do about the Mets, an event which you never anticipated will touch you in just such a way.

Like I said, Johan threw 134 pitches that night and, basically, was never the same after that.  Talk about "leaving it all on the field".  Johan was paid a large amount of money to come to New York.  I had seen him pitch locally for the Twins and dreamt of their rotation having someone like him to roll out every fifth game. And then they made the deal happen.  His arm basically resbounded from the effort and even though he missed the entire 2011 season, his 2012 season was essentially done and he then missed all of the 2013-2015 seasons.  Johan had hoped to return one more time. He wanted to pitch once again for his son to see him do so and for that I applaud his effort. I ran into Johan at Twinsfest in January 2020 but he knew me from my Twins employment days. He had no idea that the Met fan was who had greeted him so warmly that evening. 

The Mets may never have another no-hitter thrown in their history, or at least in my lifetime.  Goodness knows they've had a wealth of talent on the mound whom we all thought would've done it. Tom Seaver (who threw one for the Reds),  David Cone (who later threw a PERFECT GAME for the Yankees),  Jerry Koosman, Dwight Gooden (who later threw one for the Yankees), Nolan Ryan (who threw SEVEN for other teams in his career), Ron Darling, and the man I thought would do it first, Sid Fernandez. Even with the current crop of hurlers including Jacob DeGrom, Noah Syndergaard, and Marcus Stroman I don't know that they will make it happen. deGrom has the potential every time he takes the mound, that's for sure.

.........I'm just sayin'.

P.S.- I composed this blog a few years ago and a couple of things have transpired since then.


In 2015 the Mets went on a monumental playoff run starting in early-August.  They went on to win the Eastern Division title, clinching in Cincinnati in late September.  I actually flew to Columbus and drove to the Queen City to see the last five innings in person at Great American Ballpark.  I was behind the dugout when the players came out postgame and even got champagne sprayed on my jacket by Terry Collins when he emerged. 

They edged past the Dodgers in five games and eviscerated the Cubs in four.  The Royals of Kansas City were more than formidable and the magical run came to an end in five games.  For THIS Met fan it was quite a fine October as I my team played a game on my birthday, October 28th, for the first time ever. I was proud to sport my orange and blue for weeks afterward.

Early January 2016 saw the passing of my aunt Bea, the person who started me down this path over 40 years ago.  I know that she shared my enjoyment as the team moved through the postseason.  She has passed the torch to me and I will take it from here......to the next no-hitter and beyond.

............I'm just sayin'

The Indy 500

Today is the running of the 107th Indianapolis 500.  It promises to be just what the radio announcers refer to as they go into each commercial break, "The Greatest Spectacle In Racing".  I have watched nearly every "500" since 1969. It was my introduction to auto racing.  Between watching televised open-wheel racing and racing slot cars (Google THAT, youngsters) with my brother Rudy in the cellar of our house, I became a big fan.

It was exciting to think of being a professional race driver at that time.  A thought that probably coincided with my love of baseball to the point where I wanted to play third base for the New York Mets. I imagined this vocation until the day I heard of the death Peter Revson in March of 1974. I can still remember going down to the cellar a few hours later and playing with my slot cars by myself, as my brother had moved on to Boston University. I had only seen a still photo on the news that afternoon. The same photo appeared in the New York Daily News the following day. I still have that day's paper in my memorabilia collection. I couldn't imagine what had happened in South Africa that caused the death of this driver. Revson wasn't my favorite driver at all, but he was well-known.  After driving my slot cars for about an hour or so, I retreated upstairs to have dinner.  While in preparation of our fare for that evening I told my mother that I'd decided not to become a race driver.  Her response was, as often was the case when I made such a profound statement was, "Well, at least we got THAT out out the way."  She didn't say it in any sort of dismissive way, but I'm sure that she thought for a moment that she didn't know her 12 year-old son was even considering  such an occupation.

I was a huge fan of Mario Andretti, the 1969 Indy 500 winner. His name was almost melodic and for decades his name alone was synonymous with drivers deemed by their friends to be a little too aggressive behind the wheel of their own automobiles. I thought surely that he would win another 500 in his career, but alas this was not the case.  He became the first victim of "Andretti Luck" which was all bad and was passed on to other relatives who drove in the race. In 1982 he was an innocent bystander when on the opening lap he was run in to by  a "driver" named Kevin Cogan and was done before the race even started.  Just three years later in 1985 he had a great ride but was outrun by Danny Sullivan who earlier in the race had actually done a 360 directly in front of him and won anyway. Mario never did win another 500, but he sure looked cool while trying.  I actually got to meet Mario while working at the airport. I was supposed to be inspecting his carry-on bag at the departure gate. It wasn't the most thorough bag check I've ever done. He was much larger in stature to me than the 5'4" gentleman who was standing in front of me that evening. His grandson Marco will start today's race from the 25th position.

I recall as a kid that the Indy 500 was not shown live on television. Yes, you read that correctly. An amazing concept given today's vast array of available channels on television.  It was edited after the original running and shown on "ABC's Wide World of Sports" some SIX DAYS LATER.  Trying to avoid hearing who the winner was for 6 days was not that easy, but in the era before the internet it WAS possible.  I asked my mom to not give me my copy of Sports Illustrated until I'd seen the race.  Starting in 1971 the race was shown on the same day in prime time.  For many years I would avoid all radio and television reports on that Sunday and firmly plant myself in front of our console tv hoping like anything that when the broadcast started at 8:00 p.m. that I would hear the great Jim McKay's voice accompanied by a gentle guitar version of "Back Home Again in Indiana" and the shot would be of a darkened Indianapolis Motor Speedway with only the scoring pylon lit in the background.  The number of the winning car was unable to be discerned because of tragically-low-definition television that was available in the seventies. Which was okay for me in this circumstance.  Some years, however, the race had been postponed due to rain and my excitement would have to wait until later.

The races were often called by McKay and former Formula 1 driver Jackie Stewart.  For myself  and a lot of others watching it was the first time we had heard someone from Scotland speak, and in retrospect, it was quite a treat.  In the pits was Chris Economaki, who was great in his role.  Essentially doing the same work that 4-6 pit reporters perform on racing telecasts today. 

The race has had some thrilling finishes, including one which took four months to decide in 1980 when Andretti lost to Bobby Unser even though I thought Andretti had won. The race has also had more than its fair share of tragedy.  There was the infamous 1973 race during which three people died and another was critically injured. Art Pollard was killed in an accident during practice on Pole Day.  Salt Walther was critically injured during a multi-car crash on the opening lap.  Rain then postponed the race until the following day and during that race Swede Savage was seriously injured when he hit the wall on the front stretch.  Amazingly, Savage survived the accident but died some 33 days later from an infection following a blood transfusion. The third death was as a result of a pit crew member being hit by an emergency rescue truck which was responding, amazingly, to the Savage crash. That crew member died on impact with the truck.  Why THIS didn't make me want to dismiss a career as a race driver I just don't know. It was probably my first experience of seeing a tragic event on television.

A large number of great drivers have participated in the Indy 500. Only two of them, A.J. Foyt and Mario Andretti have won both the Daytona 500 NASCAR race and the Indianapolis 500. There have been four driver who have driven in the Indy 500 and the Coca-Cola 600 NASCAR race on the SAME DAY. The race still has two great traditions. The winning driver drinks milk in the winners circle and has done so since 1956. And more recently the winning driver and pit crew make their way to the start/finish line to kiss the yard of bricks which remain from the original track in 1909. NASCAR Hall-of-Famer Dale Jarrett started that tradition after his win in the 1996 Brickyard 400. 

I certainly look forward to today's  broadcast, but I'm sure I will be reminded of my past history of viewing.  NBC is now the network which telecasts the race. ABC did so until 2018.  It's an amazing event, where humans move on the ground at speeds which they were never supposed to reach. In 1912 the top qualifying car topped out at an average speed of 88.45 mph.  In 2020 the top speed for qualifying was 231.828.  Indy has not only brought us great moments and tragic moments but it  also brought innovations that have transferred to the cars we use today,  Originally, there were two seats in the front of the car.  One for the driver, the other for, essentially, a spotter to look around and behind the car for help to see them.  This led to the invention of the rear-view mirror in order to get rid of the passenger and make the car lighter. But I shan't bore you with more relatively meaningless trivia about this.  I will save THAT for the boredom of my friends, family and co-workers.

After the 2020 race was devoid of spectators due to the pandemic this year's race sold all 135,000 available tickets. The track has grandstand seating for 240,000 and suite and infield space to accommodate 400,000 but this year is one step closer to those numbers for 2022. I hope to be one of them myself next year. Racing is probably the one sport where the absence of fans in attendance least obvious, especially on television. Rare is the time when you could actually hear the crowd cheering above the roar of the engines anyhow. I hope someday to attend "The Greatest Spectacle In Racing" before my time on this earth is done. That'd be kinda cool. No week of avoiding the news. No tape delay telecasts. Not even a television screen at all. Just opening my eyes and seeing it all develop right in front me......and about 400,000 other fans.

May you enjoy the race today, if you are so inclined.

.......I'm just sayin'.