Emeritus man - A retired guy who recognized me from a People in Sports column photo asked, “What exactly does a sports editor emeritus do?” I answered, “Much less than he used to do. In football, it would be called a fade pattern.” I have always been more of a guy who gets edited. It starts at home with my wife Susan checking my copy, making sure it's clear and consistent, and that I’m not on the verge of losing my mind. Then words and photos go to the Gazette for more editing by Berni Hearn and Nick Roth. If stuff is taken out, I know it's because they are trying to maintain the integrity of the paper and keep me safe from the outraged and appalled citizens who own property on moral high ground. Photo editing is another lesson in integrity and authenticity, as when I recently removed a runner out of the middle of a photo and was told you can’t do that because the photo is no longer authentic. Going to the podium then commanding the room with a live microphone is scary because it's live – there are no editors. Whatever I say, I have to own it. I’m sharing here because I have survived 43 years as a sports columnist, and I still get edited. Perhaps that’s a lesson to learn in the era of social media where everyone has their own column.  

Peak performance - Years ago, I watched a group of 10-year-old all-stars run the District  3 banner around the Lewes Little League field. I commented by way of observation, “It’s all good, but also sad in a way.” “And what way is that?” said a guy eating corrugated fries who had wandered over from the boat ramp. “At least three kids in that celebration just peaked. They will never have a better athletic experience.” “And when did you reach your peak?” he asked me. “I’m saying eighth grade,” I said. “I’ve been rolling downhill ever since.” “Life Beyond Peak Performance” would be a good sports book, a past-primetime retrospective featuring interviews with athletes who left it all on the field, not knowing they had already seen their better days while staring down a bright future.  

How much do you make? Old boys in the booth window, First Street Nicola Pizza on a Thursday night after playing basketball. All walks of life: teachers, lawyers, state cops, professors and Family Court judges. A state cop asked a professor from the College of Marine Studies, “How much do you make?” And we laughed about that for the next 10 years because you don’t ask that question. It's considered rude in polite and impolite company. I read about the NBA Draft last week and all the financial information pertaining to restricted and unrestricted free agents dumping contracts to avoid the luxury tax and foreign players who jump European pro leagues, electing to attend American colleges because of NIL monies. It’s all so obnoxious, bordering on laughable.

Ain’t no banquet - A few years ago, I told Cape wrestling coach Chris Mattioni after the season-ending banquet, “It ain’t no banquet if I don’t get to the microphone.” “Good point,” coach said. The next year, he forgot to invite me, but most years he has turned the room over to me. I missed all hall of fame banquets last spring, including Delaware track and field, Afro American Sports Hall of Fame and Delaware Sports Hall of Fame. I’m not good just sitting there. It's like going to a game without my camera; I just haven’t learned how to do that. The Delaware Sports Hall of Fame inducted athletes I know well May 12, including Robin Adair Harvey (field hockey) and Maxine Fluharty (field hockey). Lifted from the website, Robin’s highlights: “She coached Tower Hill to 10 state championships, and two other title game appearances, when the sport was contested in one division. Her record over 24 years was 396-44-16 (.886) against a powerful schedule.” Maxine: “She was Big Ten Player of the Year, first-team All-American and unanimous All-Big Ten selection as a senior in 2014. She was National Field Hockey Coaches Association Mid-Atlantic Region Player of the Year, and one of five finalists for its National Player of the Year award.” 

Snippets - Years ago, a woman from Millsboro called me on the phone. “Are you all covering the Millsboro Pat Knight team playing over to Seaford on Friday night?” I told her, “We don’t usually push out as far as Millsboro with our coverage.” “You don’t, huh? Then why do you sell all those papers at the Wawa out here?” Little League all-star tournaments are underway. Great stories with photos of future major leaguers embedded. It's a celebration of youthful promise, and town ball beats travel ball every day unless you are the one traveling. Go on now, git!