Archive for the ‘Sports’ Category

Where’s the remote?

Posted: November 15, 2015 in Family, Sports, Technology, Toys, WHY?
Tags: , , ,

Got_Remote

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Kjeragbolten is a 5 m³ boulder wedged into a crevasse
at the top of Lysfjorden, Norway


 
   What you see is Kjeragbolten, a boulder wedged between two rock faces that tower about 6 ½ feet apart, 1,000 meters above Lysfjorden, Norway. The name means the Kjerag Bolt. Speculation is, that the rock got wedge in there sometime during the last ice age. Today, the boulder is a very popular place to get your picture taken.

   Even though the boulder hangs more than a half-mile above the water below, and there’s no hand rail or safety net, brave visitors can walk on to the bolt (or in some cases, crawl) out onto the bolt for a photographic opportunity of a lifetime. The rock’s top surface is flat enough that walking out onto it is relatively easy – if you’re not afraid of heights – and it is said to bring good luck. This award-winning image was captured as a young adventurer jumped up and down the boulder in the rain as if he was on solid ground.

   Despite the fact that there have been 20 fatalities in the 14 years between 1994 and 2008, the Bolt is still a popular place for photography and base jumping
 
 
 
 
 

Brave or Stupid?

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   When my son was about six or seven, I took him to a Brevard Manatees baseball game. Along about the sixth inning, we were getting fairly hungry and headed down to the concessions booths. We were about fourth or fifth in line when my son announced, “Hey dad, somebody dropped a dollar.”

   I looked down, and between our feet was a dollar bill, folded twice. I told him, “Go ahead and pick it up.” So he bent down and picked up the bill.

   “Dad, should I ask the man in front of us if he dropped it?” he asked. I admired his honesty, but I explained to him a micro-lesson in human behavior: If you offer a person something of value, and ask, ‘Is this yours?’ unscrupulous people will always say ‘yes’ and take your offering, even if it’s not theirs. I told him a better way would be to wait and see if when the man pulls his money out to pay, if he notices the money missing and starts looking around for it, then offer the money you found to him.

   We waited through several customers, and none seemed to be missing some money, so after about five minutes or so, I told my son he could keep the dollar.

   We returned to our seats. We sat down and he unfolded the bill and said, “Dad, it’s not a dollar — it’s twenty dollars!” Then he quickly added, “I think I like baseball.”

John Rocker

John Rocker, retired Major League Baseball relief pitcher played for the Atlanta Braves, the Cleveland Indians, the Texas Rangers, and the Tampa Bay Devil Rays as well as others. He was chastised for comments he made during his career about blacks, homosexuals, and New York baseball fans.

   When we were in Florida, the Atlanta Braves were having an exposition game at the Brevard County Manatees’ stadium. My neighbor, Gene, asked if he could take my seven-year-old son along with his sons to watch the game.

I said, “Sure.”

After the game, my son came home and told me what a good time he had. He showed me a baseball he had bought, and told me about eating hot dogs and peanuts. Then he went to bed.

The next day, Gene was over.

“Did you see the baseball your son bought?” Gene asked.

“I did.” I answered.

“We stood in line over an hour to get John Rocker’s autograph,” Gene said.

   The pitcher for Atlanta at the time was John Rocker. He was quite a controversial figure. In a January 2000 Sports Illustrated interview, Rocker had made some disparaging comments about New Yorkers. When asked whether he would ever play for the New York Yankees or the New York Mets, Rocker’s response was:

“I’d retire first… Imagine… you’re riding through [a city like] Beirut next to some kid with purple hair, next to some queer with AIDS, right next to some dude who just got out of jail for the fourth time, right next to some 20-year-old mom with four kids. It’s depressing.” Later he said, “Nowhere else in the country do people spit at you, throw bottles at you, throw quarters at you… I talked about what degenerates they were and they proved me right.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What?” I asked. “You all stood in line over an hour for John Rocker’s autograph? There was no autograph on the ball.”

“Oh yeah,” said Gene. “We got John Rocker’s autograph on your son’s baseball,” he repeated.

“I don’t think so,” I told him, and went to get the ball.

Turning the ball over and over, I saw no evidence of a signature. I handed it to Gene.

“That’s the ball,” he said, “but there’s no signature!”

So I called my son over. “Son, did John Rocker sign his autograph on your baseball the other night?”

“Yeah, Dad, some guy wrote his name on it.” he replied.

“Well, where’s the signature?”

“I didn’t like it,” he said. “It just looked like a bunch of scribble-scrabble to me so I wiped it off.”

I like Baseball

 

   It was a very bad season for the University of Tennessee Volunteers. It was clear the whole team had a drug problem — they were being drug all over the field. It was beginning to appear that in their future schedule they would have to quit opponents like Alabama, Auburn, and Georgia, to play clubs that were closer in ability: the football teams of Boy Scout Troop 146 and Knoxville School for the Blind.

   It was such a bad year, my Uncle Joe, as big a Volunteer fan as he is, didn’t want to sit through another game of defeat. The problem was he is a season ticket holder. He never thought he’d ever give up on his beloved Volunteers, but he just really didn’t have an interest in seeing them lose another game. So Uncle Joe decided he should do the best thing he could with the tickets: allow someone else to enjoy them.

   But none of his friends were interested in going to the game during this dismal season, either. So Uncle Joe had an idea: He drove down to the East Town Mall, parked his car at the main entrance to the mall, rolled his window down, and laid his four tickets on the dash board out in clear view — and within easy reach of anyone that might happen to pass by. Then he went in the Mall and just hung out for a while.

Two hours later, he returned to his car to find someone had left him four more tickets.

Calling all cars…

Texas style lo-jack

Catching Nemo

Posted: June 9, 2012 in Animals, Sports, Work
Tags: , , , , , ,

Catching Nemo

   My cousin, Wayne, is an avid fisherman. He had fished all the rivers and lakes around his home in East Tennessee by the time he was fifteen. But real life sometimes distracts us from what we love to do most, and life after graduating college is no exception. He got a job, and it took him away from the land of rivers and lakes. He had moved to Boston, Massachusetts, but his desires of being out on the lake with a rod and a tackle box never subsided.

   After telling his co-workers relentlessly over the years of his great fishing exploits, he finally had the chance to share with them exactly what he was talking about. He and two co-workers were scheduled for a conference in Knoxville, Tennessee, and he was sure to build some “leisure time” into their itinerary.

   His excitement grew as he took his co-workers to the home of his childhood, where trophy-sized mounted fish still hung in his bedroom, and a bass boat sat waiting in the garage.

   So Wayne got the boat, his two friends, and all the bait they could muster, and headed out to the lake. They had been out in the boat about fifteen minutes when Wayne’s rod bowed over to the point it looked like it would break the line. “That’s how you do it boys!” Wayne hollered. He pulled, and rested as the fish would come in toward the boat, then turn and make a run, spinning the line back off the reel.

   After fighting for two or three minutes solid, Wayne finally pulled in the biggest, heaviest, monster bass he had ever caught in his life. He was already thinking about how grand it would look mounted next to the others at his parent’s house. “What do you think of that boys?” Wayne asked his two guests with obvious pride.

“We thought you said you caught big fish here in Tennessee. Back home, we’d just throw one that small back.”

Disheartened, Wayne said, “We do too.” and tossed the behemoth back into the water – to which his two guests immediately confessed, “Are you kidding us? You threw it back? That was the biggest fish we ever saw in our lives!”

 
Boat Launch – You’re doing it wrong

 
Uncle Ezra goes fishin’

One of many beautiful fishin' holes in East Tennessee

Uncle Ezra and his friend, Roosevelt, decided to go fishing one Saturday morning. They didn’t have a boat, so they were always restricted to casting from the water’s edge. But this day, as they pulled up to the boat dock, they saw a man was renting little john boats for $2.00 an hour.

“Hey,” said Roosevelt, “if we pool all our money, we could take a boat out for an hour or two.” Uncle Ezra thought that to be a fine idea. So they pooled their money, looked in the dash of their truck, in the ashtrays, in the floorboards and between the seats. They came up with two dollars and fourteen cents – and they rented a boat.

A cooler full of perch. Lucky for these fishermen, I was nowhere around.

   The first forty-five minutes of fishing were atrocious. They had to sit extremely still, or the little boat might capsize. Their lines got twisted, they hooked the weeds, dropped a rod in the water, and the only bites they got were from the mosquitoes. With less than ten minutes remaining, they paddled to the center of the lake, and found a nice dark hole. They cast out out some worms. BAM! A strike. BAM! another one, and another! As fast as they could take ’em off the hook and put on another worm, another pole line would have a fish on. Now they couldn’t keep up with the rate at which they were pulling fish in.

   Roosevelt grabbed a wide black marker out of his fishing kit and drew a big black “X” on the side of the boat. “What ‘r you doin’?” asked Uncle Ezra. “I’m marking our spot,” said Roosevelt, “so’s next time we come back out here we ‘kin find hit again.”

“You dumb old man, you”, said Ezra, “‘At ain’t gonna’ work. Don’t you know we may not get the same boat next time?”

 
Catching Nemo

 
Uncle Ezra goes huntin’