A Good Night in America

winners

      The hometown kids prevail and Jon Batiste wails. Good nights in the US.

  

    High tides, driving rain, breaks of sun play. Victories too.

 game night

  Game night, school night is a good night in America.

   It is the rhythm and soul of our collective dream, the sweat and the lessons of life. It is sweetness, pure and simple from large urban field houses to small village gyms.

    That is especially so in a school like Coast Union in Cambria with an enrollment under 250 kids.
    I am almost religious about basketball. It's in my DNA and has been a constant dream since I learned to dribble in grade school. I love the game and I love to see kids also love the game. That is especially so here, for sure.

   I'm watching a classic basketball scenario run before my eyes here on the California Central coach.  It seems only a couple of years ago Coach Gehrig Kniffen was the floor captain of his scrappy Broncos team. He played with heart and a court sense. Now he's teaching the love of the game to his team.

   They're not big. One of the kid's mom tells me only 3 or 4 of the boys were basketball players. The rest of the kids grew up on soccer.
   Coach Kniffen has done well. The team plays smart, they spread the floor, they move the ball, work for a shot and show a tenacity and drive. 

    In this gym on this night the game was see saw, tight with heart and soul pushing up and down the court. Parents and friends were enthralled and entertained. On this night the hometown Broncos gained a well deserved victory. And on this night in America winners and losers met as good sports.

Orcutt would have a ride home, considering those few plays, those missed opportunities that could have made the difference. The Coast Union Broncos would give the new coach another first season win. It is the way of the game, an American way.

    It is a game that is immensely personal to a boomer from Indiana. My life is measured in chapters of basketball.

    I got the love of the game from my dad who was a skilled and accomplished player who, were it not for WWII, probably  would have continued on in semi pro and eventually professional hoops.

    I'd practice ball handing and dribbling in the basement of our little Muncie house and clip newspaper articles of my beloved 1950's era Muncie Central Bearcats.

    In Indiana a kid plays basketball wherever and much as he can. I remember Jon Hilkene's old barn with a hard packed uneven dirt floor on half the court and uneven old planks around the hoop and free throw line. We used to shovel snow or chip ice from Tom Johnson's extra wide driveway that was bathed in a street light and well pointed night spots on the house. In the winter we had to wear gloves, which affected our shooting and in the summer, sweat soaked we'd swat at mosquitoes and gnats. Summer basketball camps where the smell of the gym was especially sweet from the wax. Playing between the Hackbee's and Lowen's on an uneven, sloping alley with hoops hanging on the backs of garages, stopping when trash trucks or cars drove by. 

    An Indiana kid dreams of wearing the school colors, but life and moves and broken bones and size can conspire against that "glory." But in Indiana a kid can play in community centers in the inner city with dazzling players and shake and bake moves, or in a legendary old hotel in industrial or AAU leagues with true one time stars, or in church leagues campaigning around the city in great old gyms, at the Y, in pick up games on hallowed field house floors.  

     Even in middle age and beyond an Indiana kid can play in the elbows for lunch bunch at the Y, or in "celebrity games" barnstorming around the state in hallowed old field houses and gyms, playing local all stars or faculty teams to raise money for schools, bands, charities and the like. 

     Game night in America is a good night. It is stepping into a slip stream of good nights that reach back to the beginning and flow forward with that sweet, sweet sound and smell and swish of a net.

   New Orleans virtuoso Jon Batiste, leader of the Stay Human band that is Steven Colbert's house band on CBS is a hoopster. He is also a dynamic and charismatic performer.

   After his recent piano concert in San Luis Obispo he lead

a "love march" out of the auditorium. Was he great? Look at the smile on that little guys face. If you ever get a chance to see him, don't miss it.  It is pure joy, love and energy.

    He said his concert is like sitting in his living room while he just plays around. That's a great thought.  So is spending some time in a gym with him, playing the great American game.

     See you down the trail.

The "Rap" Back and In The Funk Zone

    There is a lot to like about Santa Barbara's funk zone, not the least of which is building art.

  A more extensive look follows, but first, the old goats respond. The Rap back--

**The Text below**

    Frequent readers may recall in the previous post I discussed how our old goats coffee dialectic/cafe debate, populated by a diverse group, was at least civil unlike the wide divergence almost every where else you look these days.

    None of the group seemed to take offense to my characterizations, however Ray, our resident historian responded with verse. BTW Ray has offered up other ditties showing that he could make a run at song writing as a twilight career. 

    I see the group would prefer to be known as the Illuminati instead of old goats. My only retort is a small edit. He noted that my court skills were unknown at Butler U (I was accepted there) but it should read Ball State U, from whence I graduated.  He's right though.  My hoops skills were left for Industrial, Church and Y leagues.

    Thanks Ray, and Illuminati pals. This is a keepsake the kids will find in my files.

the funk

    Santa Barbara's "Funk Zone," between the Pacific, the 101 and adjacent to the Amtrak station is a warren of cafes, wine rooms, galleries, restaurants, boutiques, bistros and plenty to look at. 

      An old warehouse and industrial district, enlivened.

     These 8 x 8 portraits are of Jean-Michel Basquiat, Keith Haring, Frida Kahlo, Yauyoi Kusama, Diego Rivera, Ai Wei Wei. They were done by students and guest muralist David Flores. 

   And then near the Santa Barbara farmers market is another eye appealing bit of public art, on a private home.

     After living in the mid-west my one regret about California is the brevity of the green season. So, enjoy a couple more scenes from nearby.

The Text

Tom came out of Indiana

a sharpened pencil in his hand

vowing to excoriate

every villain in the land

Calif. welcomed him

with widely opened arms

recognizing instantly

those sophisticated charms

He's a Hoosier and a Scot

a journalist most refined

but ignore required readings

and your faults could be defined

At Butler U his court skills

were remarkably unknown

those letters of recruitment

Vanished in the Twilight Zone

you know he's quite the wordsmith

dedicated to the truth

but exhibit mental weakness

and he'll shred you skin and tooth-

He is a well known resident

of many halls of fame

but are those hefty entry fees

just another elitist game?

Tom's an author and a blogger

of national reputation

But I suspect Ms. Lana

supervised his maturation

He's a critic of our president

our "national benefactor"

insisting that insanity

might be a slight distractor

No more distant projects

might an editor seek to send

For we could not tolerate

the loss of such a friend.

Ray Maijala

The Illuminati

 Janos

Dick

Dino

Julie

     See you down the trail.

INTOLERABLE

Fiscalini Preserve Cambria Ca

intolerable

    What a transsexual California inmate and Donald Trump are doing is intolerable. Our explanation is on the way, but first....

for the love of the game

Photo by Greg Baker, Associated Press, China

      Under assault by all manner of absurdity we can shelter safe in the glow of this extraordinary image captured by Greg Baker on assignment for the AP in China. These lads have fashioned a basketball court near a community encampment in a cave.

     That the game James Naismith created at a YMCA in 1891 has penetrated deep into China is hope for this world.

      Naismith a Canadian-American, the son of immigrants from Scotland was a physician, chaplain and physical educator. He was 30 when he invented basketball in Massachusetts. He said in the first game the boys began tackling, kicking and fighting, ending up in a free for all. He changed a few rules and the game evolved. It became a kind of religion in Indiana.

     Most large high school field houses and gyms are in Indiana the state that provided the truth for the movie Hoosiers. I shoveled snow and ice encrusted driveways to play in the dead of winter wearing galoshes, stocking caps and gloves. We played on uneven alleys with busted cement and one with a hill, in barns-dirt floor and barn flooring-uneven bounces, but we never played in a cave. 

     Good things can happen when a game, like basketball, is part of our international conversation. Is it possible to have too much in common with our planetary brothers and sisters?

intolerable, continued

    Given the narcissism it's simple to understand why Trump would be displeased by the fact Vladimir Putin directed a campaign to defeat and discredit Hilary Clinton and to elect him. He does not want to accept that his election is illegitimate. I presume he wants to believe the outcome was of his own doing. Truth interrupts Trump's pipe dream. 

     Putin manipulated the American election but still a majority of voters rejected the vulgarian. He is not only a minority President, but his administration will always be regarded as illegitimate. That's not the worst of it.

    Trump has openly demeaned and ridiculed our intelligence community. As a journalist with familiarity I understand the community is neither perfect, nor has it always been right but it, like everything else in government, is a human endeavor. And successes go without credit. What is different here is the unanimity of the multi agency community, where competition and budget envy exist. The truth, the findings, the facts are a bitter bill for a man of his character. A President may have differences and criticisms with his intelligence agencies, but they should be a matter for private conversations. Doing otherwise is stupid, disrespectful and is dangerous. It accomplishes precisely what Mr Putin delights in, seeing our nation loose confidence in itself and it's ways. 

     The Russian cyber operation was designed to cause Americans to loose faith in their government. Donald Trump is trying to make that happen. He operates as a Russian stooge. We are witnessing an historic open war between the man to be inaugurated and the American intelligence and security community. What could go wrong?

   There is at lest hapless Mike Pence. He's been around long enough to know. He's back pedaled on some of Trump's statements, trying to bring a touch of big boy reality to Donnie's "I know more than they do" bluster and nonsense. We are about to turn the keys over to a stooge, though the trumpster might say idiot. Either way Mr Putin is sleeping well.

also intolerable 

     California prison officials have agreed to pay for a sex change operation for a 57 year old killer with no hope for parole.

      Shiloh Heavenly Quine was convicted of first degree murder, kidnapping and robbery for ransom. He is serving a life sentence. It is thought this first such approval will allow other transgender inmates to apply to receive state funded sex reassignment surgery. It doesn't take long to calculate the cost. 

     If you want elective surgery which government agency can you to turn to get it paid for? Hmmm. Guess you could commit a serious crime?  

     Does anyone think longitudinally? 

     Government has better and more deserving ways to spend its money, don't you think so, or not? 

      See you down the trail.

DEW WOP DOO DOO

PRISTINE

   Lana and daughter Katherine, taking a break from nursing school, came in the other morning after making a round of the garden and flower bed. Better get your camera they said.

   The dew and pollen combined to create some nice scenes. It is, apparently, appetizing as well.

    THE KID COULD HAVE PLAYED IN INDIANA

   All season I've been reading about the local high school basketball team and a kid I remember serving us clam chowder on a day the blood drive unit parked in front of the restaurant his father manages. That was 8 years ago and Gehrig not only has grown up he's become a great ball player.

   I may assume knowledge in a lot of topics, but I know basketball. I grew up in Indiana and started playing team ball in the third grade. I continued to play until we moved 8 years ago. Those are my bona fides.

    Gehrig has a great work ethic, a terrific sense of the court and flow of the game, is a smart ball handler, great playmaker and selfless.  His father Steve is a friend and a dedicated community volunteer and activist. His favorite game is baseball but he said he realized years ago Gehrig liked the larger ball that bounced and that you threw through a hoop instead of the hard little ball you threw past a batter. Dad says son would hit the school yard court for self motivated shooting practice every day for years. A kid from Indiana used to that. In fact a lot of Indiana kids did that but one in particular was Larry Bird.

     Gehrig passes like I saw Bird pass. He can drive, draw the defense and create an open player to whom he can make clean passes and scoring opportunities.

     A tennis partner and I were talking about Gehrig and his teammates when Steve, who works with the Soccer team, passed the court and we chatted.  He said his son has gotten into scoring "only to help out" because his favorite thing to do is to assist. He is that kind of player. He's the kind of kid who should have the ball when things get tight.

     He's a senior, but he's not a big kid and as his dad says he's playing for one of the smallest schools in California, in the smallest league in the state. Life is full of trade offs. Had he been raised in Indiana he would have played bigger kids, tougher conferences, more demanding coaches and would have gotten more looks. But, he's been raised in an almost storybook community, environment and climate and most importantly he's had fun. But despite missing the hybrid climate of basketball in Indiana, this kid is the real deal.   

     Village life has its special charms.

      See you down the trail.

COULDN'T BELIEVE OUR EYES, TRANSCENDENCE, PRECIOUS WATER AND WHAT ARE THEY?

A TRANSCENDENT MOMENT

     Something extraordinary happened in an awful moment on Easter Sunday.

     Louisville player Kevin Ware who had jumped to block a shot, came down horribly wrong, splintering his leg in a compound fracture that is as bad as any sports injury most of us have ever seen.

     Players collapsed on the floor, nearby fans were sickened and the Lucas Oil Stadium in Indianapolis was silenced, stunned and of a single mind, worried about the young athlete writhing in pain.

     His coach, Rick Pitino, is quoted as saying he fought nausea, others have said so as well.

     Clark Kellogg, who is great guy and a caring compassionate man was barely able to compose himself as he performed his CBS Sports broadcast role.  His partner Jim Nantz, another class act, also battled back tears, as did the fiercely competitive Coach K, Mike Krzyzewski.  

      For almost ten minutes cultural icons like Pitino, Krzyzewski, Kellogg and Nantz, wiped tears and worked on. The broadcasters evinced great concern for Ware and for his team mates who were in shock.  Even as Pitino and Coach K looked shaken, ashen and blinked tears, they were concerned for their charges and their well being.  We look at Division 1 athletes as men, as competitive stallions, but they are young men, some just out of high school.

      You could see people pray, the broadcasters said they were praying, later even the colorful Charles Barkley said he too was praying for Ware.

      In a moment, a highly charged and superb athletic ritual is dashed.  A young man lay seriously injured, on a playing floor, not a battle field.  The uniform he wore was that of a basketball player, not a soldier, cop or firefighter.  A terrible and ugly reality crashed into a cultural celebration.

Fans, players, coaches, commentators, in this framed world of hyper play, responded to their shock and dismay with an almost automatic response of care, concern and prayer.

      Young Kevin Ware, his bone protruding from his skin, who dreams of playing professional ball, in excruciating pain, uncertain of his future, continued to tell his panic stricken team mates, "Don't worry about me.  Just win the game.  Win the game."

      The thousands in the stadium and the millions of us watching television, have never seen anything like that before.  In the midst of a game, a horrible event prompts an almost universal concern and thousands or millions of prayers.  Something extraordinary, in an awful moment, on an Easter Sunday.

      

CLAY PLAY
wherein a new ceramic project from Lana provides an
interesting photo opportunity.

SAN SIMEON CREEK

    Our rainy season has been almost 50% deficient this year.

We are experiencing a couple of days of light rain and hoping the system slows to deliver more.  

    The photos were shot last week on San Simeon Creek, one of the two primary water sources for municipal wells. In a good year, the creek runs with a swifter current and the gravel bars are not visible, until late in the summer.  

     Talk of lifting a building moratorium to permit a "few" new construction permits a year seems ill advised in a drought year and at a time when some climatologists say we are in a drought cycle.  I understand the frustration of property owners who have been waiting years to build, but still, water is a precious resource and this year it is even more precious.

    See you down the trail.