Kelly and Davey are inclusive friends who know what’s up

A magic moment - Senior Night for girls’ lacrosse was held at Champions Stadium May 6. It was the calm before the storm. “Precise Patrice” Riggin was reading the Kelly Bragg biography when near the end, the words, “What up, Davey?” killed us all softly like a Snoop Dogg summer breeze. And in a moment of stillness, Davey’s voice from a low-lying cloud shrouding the press box: “’What up?” The timing was perfect, everyone smiled, Kelly and Davey – two lovable muppets – just perfect harmony.  An inclusion moment, impromptu and unplanned, and everyone felt better about themselves.   

What’s a Mobjack? - I was standing close to the Lewes Yacht Club bar next to Capt. Rowland Marshall wearing the Capt. Canal ball cap I had made after buying a 13-foot Whaler from Gary Wray. There was a discussion – didn’t include me – who was the better old-salt sailor, Rowland or Rodney Evans. They talked about racing Mobjacks and I asked in all sincerity, “What’s a Mobjack?” And that was our joke for the next 25 years, Cap asking me, “Have you found out what a Mobjack is yet?” I not only found out but covered the Mobjack Nationals when they were at the Lewes Yacht Club. Talk about a fish out of water. I was a freshwater sunny in the land of saltwater sunfish. I asked Rowland, “Can I get you a beer?” “No, I'm an alcoholic and haven't had a drink in 35 years,” Rowland said. “I was a wild child back in my younger days.” And somehow that seemed incomprehensible because when you thought of the concept of gentleman, you thought of Rowland Marshall.   

Back in 2003, when Delaware football played in the national championship in Chattanooga, I was on a charter flight out of Wilmington airport with HOOTERS in all caps written on the fuselage. I said to Rowland, “This ain’t no Mobjack, I can tell you that, but it’s a good name for a boat.” He just laughed graciously rather than tell me, “Too many dumb jokes, Temple boy.” After the win over Colgate, Delaware fans were on the field and a snow squall blew up. It was a Blue Hens snow globe; everyone knew everyone else. Mark Moore and Trippy Delcampo were on that team. Back at the hotel (more like a motel) bar, the bottles of beer kept coming, no running tabs and no money put down. You just told them at the end of the night how many drinks and pitchers you had, and if you lied they would just shoot you. Stories were flying about. Rowland was having such a great time, proving you don’t have to drink to be a Happy Cappy. I had not yet reached that level of Zen, but I’m there now.

Thomas Rowland Marshall III and now we are on TR VI, I believe. The eyes of the grandkids and great-grandkids are where you can see Cappy looking back at you, and you should ask them, “What’s a Mobjack?” and “How ‘bout them Blue Hens?”     

Harvey - During the Cape girls’ lacrosse Senior Night ceremony, all five senior girls mentioned Mr. Harvey, who also goes by Fred Harvey and sometimes just Harvey. I said, "You've taken the bus-driving legend thing too far when you start bringing your bus to home games." In 2015, Cape baseball played a state tournament game at Frawley Stadium in the afternoon, beating Sallies 9-4, while the Cape girls’ lacrosse team played Polytech in the state title game at 7 p.m. in Dover. The Cape bus to Frawley broke down. Lenny Richardson was Cape's transportation director. His wife Lynn was the Poly head coach, and his daughter Kathryn was on the Poly team. It was suggested that Lenny send Harvey to get the baseball boys and arrange for another bus from Cape to get the Cape girls. Lenny said to me that night, "If anyone thinks I'm pulling Fred Harvey off this game, they must be crazy. He's more important than all of us.” Cape won the championship game 16-6, but victory is not in the books until Harvey drives the bus home.

Snippets - The column items above were first posted to my Facebook page. I wanted to share them column side with a broader readership because I’m just happy with the stories embedded and how they shine a positive light on Sesame Street by the Sea. The wet respite from the serious intensity of scholastic sports over the weekend is the perfect launching pad into the back half of May, where championship games are played and seniors wear the school uniform for the last time, except for those who steal it and wear it in the college dorm to impress their new friends. Ridden hard and put away wet, go on now, git!