Lineman for Lightning catches the cup

Lineman for Lightning - John McMahon was a Philadelphia All-Catholic League lineman for Lasalle High School in 1963. I was also on that All-Catholic team, representing Bishop Egan High School. John and our recently passed mutual friend Bill Jackson of Cardinal Dougherty share lots of memories through sports. I like to joke to all my old guy athletic friends: “I think I used to be better than you used to be.” John lives in Tampa, Fla., and he’s one of those crazy fans who show up at the Tampa Riverwalk along the Hillsborough River for victory parades like the Super Bowl Bucs and now, the last two consecutive years, the Tampa Bay Lightning, known as the Bolts everywhere outside of Jamaica. John sent me a photo of him hoisting the Stanley Cup, and I thought, “If Tom Brady tossed the Vince Lombardi Trophy from his boat over the water to Rob Gronkowski’s boat celebrating their Super Bowl victory, then just maybe the 2021 Conn Smythe Trophy winner Andrei Vasilevskiy tossed the venerated Stanley Cup to John McMahon?” But I noticed there were no inscribed names, and the cup looked more like a Catholic chalice made silver with hardware store hobby paint. John suggested, “Put it in your column and just say it’s real. Up there in Lewes, Scotty Reihm and John Miller will never know the difference.”     

Got a dime? I had a football teammate at Temple who just would not tolerate listening to long laments from teammates about how they were underappreciated, so he just responded, “Got a dime? Call someone who cares.” Yep, pay phone calls cost a dime back then. Country singer Travis Tritt released his hit song, “Here’s a Quarter (Call Someone Who Cares)” about a girl who left him, then desired to come back. Sports honors happen or they don’t, but the next day you can neither brag about your trophy nor cry because you didn’t get one. Got a dime? Same goes for halls of fame. Dave Robinson, who now has his name on a new elementary school in the Caesar Rodney School District, nominated me to the Delaware Sports Hall of Fame in 2004. The day he told me, we were at Sports at the Beach for the state championship softball game as Cape coach Bill Cordrey’s team lost to Caravel 1-0 on Memorial Day. Bill, a Vietnam vet, was wearing his flag pin, but none of it mattered. Got a dime? By the way, 17 years later, I still haven’t made the Delaware Sports Hall of Fame, and if I had a dime, I’d travel back to my glory days and call myself.      

Sweet lemons - The opposite of sour grapes, sweet lemons is a rationalization that whatever disappointment happened was for the best, like, “If I never went blind, I’d never have been able to hear so good.” A few weeks ago, muppet Lee Ann Wilkinson asked me to submit a picture of Darby dog walking through amber waves of grain for possible inclusion in the Gallo Real Estate calendar. And so I did, because I love Lee Ann and all the Gallos going back 40 years. And then an independent team of seven art critics and rental agents going through a record number of submissions made their selections, and Darby, who has his own fan club, didn't make the cut. I told my wife Susan, “That is such a good thing and yet funny. It was no rigged game, no hooking up your friends, and so I’m glad things like that can still happen and delighted it happened to Darby and me. I can’t wait to see what lame photos made the cut.” Now that is sour grapes, or maybe simply sarcasm. 

The Great White Hype - Nothing more bland than a professional press release issued by a publicity firm to hype some sporting event that is set up to make money. And that is cool; it's just not what I do. When I walk onto a field or into a gym or set up the blue chair at the finish line of a race, the Fred hype begins or not, but I’ll come out of there with images and stories earned by experience, and they will be authentically original. And why am I even writing about this? Because the sports hype machine is cranking nonstop, but it’s mostly white noise like static on AM radio. 

Snippets - The key to a healthy adjustment to national prominence is staying connected to your local roots. Jimmie Allen and Bryan Stevenson are great examples, and now Zack Gelof steps up to the plate. Zack is a character kid; he has always been that guy, and when he first steps onto a major league diamond, his footprints will appear on the Rehoboth Little League field and his autograph will be etched on a thousand Bagel Bombers jerseys. The nation can’t own our local heroes; they are simply on loan. Go on now, git!