You probably won’t believe this but it’s true.
Last week I attended a polo match in southern California while the NFL playoffs were on television. Blame my behavior on both the MSP weather and our local teams.
The Star Tribune reported earlier this month we experienced the “gloomiest December in 52 years of record keeping.” Minnesota’s most prominent teams? They began the New Year losing most of their games.
It was enough to seek refuge in southern California for 10 days. Blue skies, sunshine and 70 to 80 degree temps were delivered. As for sports in SoCal, I could have cared less about their teams—and also who won that boring polo match.
I’m home now and trying to humor myself. Maybe I can get a chuckle out of you too.
I’ll head over to the health club soon. The warm water in the spa is effective for aches and pains but hopefully doesn’t diminish my Adonis tan. My mood also brightens when I read this signage near the whirlpool: “No domestic animals allowed.”
But I’m not laughing when club members sit at an exercise station and gab on their cell phones. Hello, this is not your office, car—or even your house.
With the Super Bowl coming Sunday, I might call Bob Lurtsema. The former Viking is savvy about the NFL, and besides that he’s funny. Earlier this month, he recalled how during his playing days he complained to an official about being held as he tried to rush the quarterback. “It doesn’t matter, you wouldn’t get to him anyway,” the referee wisecracked.
You never know where you’ll find a good laugh. Driving in the southwest suburbs, I’m sometimes reminded of a building where I worked years ago. At the time, my youngest son was about four and he heard me occasionally complain about life at the office.
One day we were driving by the work place, and my son recognized the building and said, “Look, Dad, there’s the place that gives you nightmares.”
Now his son is showing the family wit at an early age. After I bought a new vehicle, my then 2½ year old grandson announced, “I really like your car.”
And that reminds me of another car story. When I worked for the North Stars we had a player who was a bit confused about motor vehicle laws in Minnesota. This was discovered when an officer pulled him over and asked for his license. The North Star readily complied and pulled out a Czechoslovakian license from his glove compartment.
Athletes can certainly brighten the day and not just with the skills they show in competition. Ralph Kiner, who died last year, was a favorite of baseball fans and storytellers. After Kiner’s baseball career ended he became a broadcaster and was known for his “hilarious malaprops,” as Sports Illustrated noted in its December 29 issue. The magazine recalled this Kiner classic: “It’s Father’s Day today at Shea (Stadium), so to all you fathers out there, happy birthday.”
My wife comes from a large family and they are world champs at communicating via e-mail. It’s mostly serious stuff, although her sibs will occasionally have me laughing like the day her brother Phil was quoting humorist Dave Barry about colonoscopies. Barry wrote in a newspaper column that the colon is a “lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis.”
Barry is a Pulitzer-prize winner who authored the book I’ll Mature When I’m Dead. He also wrote about “parenting and other topics he knows very little about” in the book You Can Date Boys When You’re Forty.
Although my wife and I vacationed in the gorgeous Palm Desert area, I’m well aware not all communities in California are so attractive. I’m told a newspaper in Stockton ran a contest asking residents what they like best about the city. Here are a couple of entries someone shared with me:
“It could be worse.”
“Close to everything. Far from Paradise.”
When on vacation I do become more curious about life. Nothing too deep—I’m just a sportswriter—but stuff like this:
Why do salt, sugar and alcohol have to be so bad for us? There must be a parallel universe where it’s just the opposite.
I know the difference between coaches and sportswriters. Coaches own vacation condos; sportswriters just rent them.
How come if it only snows three nights in January those are all evenings I’m working and attending events?
The other morning, while still on vacation, I thought about 80 things I’m happy about. I never thought I could get past 79.
Happy trails.