Turkey Trot Chaos

This year’s Thundercloud Turkey Trot accidentally being cut half a mile short by a wrong turn reminds me of the scene in Animal House where Stork leads the marching band into an alleyway. The ensuing confusion is hilarious, unless you happen to be the first place runner or the guy whose trombone gets bent.

Given how many runs close our streets during the spring and fall months, it’s a wonder nothing like this hasn’t happened before.

Just About a Mile from Texarkana

I’m in Texarkana, Tex. tonight. Texarkana is one of those towns that gets sung about a lot because it makes for a nice rhyme, as Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Cotton Fields," Crazy Elephant's "Gimme Gimme Good Lovin'" and Jerry Reed's "Eastbound and Down" can attest.

One thing that doesn't rhyme with Texarkana is syphilis. The Ark-La-Tex region has some of the higher syphilis rates in the country, so I'm here for a meeting with public health folks from the tri-state area to discuss coordination of prevention and messaging efforts across state lines.

I would’ve preferred to meet in Hot Springs, Ark. for the spring-fed baths or Shreveport, La. for the casino buffets, but our leash ends where Texas does. As far as I can tell, the primary extracurricular activity in Texarkana would be to have a photo taken on State Line Ave. with half my girth in Texas and the other in Arkansas. Having already done that in several obnoxious iterations over the years, I’m content to hit the hotel treadmill and watch the Cowboys try to soak up some Texas Rangers mojo on Monday Night Football.

Yup, just another crazy night of road-hogging in the name of public health.

Disco Demolition Night!

I meant to post this on July 12, which was the 31st anniversary of Disco Demolition Night at Comiskey Park in Chicago.

By 1979, disco had become a musical trend pushed too far. Hell, even Ethel Merman had a disco album out by then. A nation of disaffected - and, it must be said, overwhelmingly white - rock and rollers took up the rallying cry, "DISCO SUCKS!" You saw it on T-shirts and bumper stickers everywhere. While much of the knee-jerk disdain for disco can legitimately be ascribed to barely latent racism and homophobia, the velvet-rope exclusivity famously epitomized by Studio 54 was fairly deserving of a massive backlash.

Disco Demolition Night was conceived by Chicago DJ Steve Dahl of album-rock station WLUP-FM (a.k.a., "Loop 98") as a promotion to get more fans to come cheer for the then-moribund Chicago White Sox as they took on the Detroit Tigers in a doubleheader. Everyone who brought a disco record to Comiskey Park would gain admission to Comiskey Park for just 98 cents. Between games, the records would be collected and ceremoniously blown up at midfield between games.

What could possibly go wrong with that? Watch this ESPN clip and find out...

Talk Bossy to Me

There are a lot of things to question about the emerging hagiography of the late New York Yankees owner George Steinbrenner, but I think Matt Taibbi's obit raises a good point by using Steinbrenner's demise as an opportunity to question why Americans have such a soft spot in their hearts for egomaniacal aristocrats:

In no other country do people genuinely love their bosses the way Americans do. They'll go home after 12 hard hours of capricious superiors peeing in their faces, and the very first thing they'll do is call up some talk radio show and denounce the graduated income tax that gives them a break at their bosses' expense.

And once you've been trickled down upon by "wealth creators" for 12 hours, you probably wouldn't dare question the fact that because Steinbrenner had the good fortune to die in 2010, his heirs will pay no federal estate taxes on his estimated $1.1 billion estate, resulting in a potential tax savings of almost $500 million.

For My Skoal Brothers

Given my fealty for public health, I really shouldn't be posting a smokeless tobacco commercial. But for this awesome spot starring legendary UT/Houston Oilers running back Earl Campbell, I'm going to have to make an exception.



Maybe the Oilers never managed to beat the Steelers in the AFC Championship, but Earl's endorsement of Skoal has it all over Terry Bradshaw's commercial for Red Man.

Texas Stadium Imploded

Texas Stadium was returned to dust this morning in a Kraft Macaroni and Cheese-sponsored implosion for the ages. I didn't bother to watch it live on TV, but here's some pretty good footage of the implosion - and nothing but - that was shot from a nearby building.



I like the way the roof span in the left half of the frame just sort of hangs there for a few seconds before crashing down.

The Last Days of Texas Stadium

Texas Stadium, home to the Dallas Cowboys until 2008, is slated for implosion just after dawn on April 11. The Dallas Morning News website has a bittersweet slideshow chronicling pre-demolition preparations, which includes filling the sunken football field and lower ring of seats with dirt to bring it up to ground level so they won't have to dig debris out of a hole.

Kraft Macaroni & Cheese is sponsoring Texas Stadium's implosion as a launchpad for their new "Cheddar Explosion" flavor. Some lucky kid who wins Kraft's essay contest will get a free trip to Irving to mash the detonation button, which is almost as good as having Willy Wonka give you a chocolate factory.

Farewell to Texas Stadium

The Dallas Morning News published a special "Farewell to Texas Stadium" section last Sunday in anticipation of the Dallas Cowboys' final regular season game in the stadium against the Baltimore Ravens this weekend. I was in Dallas that day and would've picked up a copy had I known, but at least they have it on the website now.

My own memories of Texas Stadium come from the four or five years my family drove there on Thanksgiving to watch the Cowboys play. As I recall, we always sat in above the end zone because season ticket holders already had all the good seats. The game always started at 3pm, and if you were seated in the end zone facing west, you could count on being blinded as the sun receded between the roof and the top of the opposite-facing stands. This was before Jerry Jones filled in that gap with more luxury boxes, which probably improved the sun situation inside but made the stadium look architecturally slapdash from the outside.

Parking sucked. We always had to walk across the freeway and over a levee to a remote lot that was at least a mile away. It was usually cold during that time of year, too.

The first Cowboys game we saw was against the Chicago Bears in 1981. Walter Payton was playing for the Bears and Danny White was starting quarterback for the Cowboys, but he got hurt. As the fourth quarter wound down, backup quarterback Glenn Carano drove to within field goal range and kicker Rafael Septien won it for the Cowboys 10-9 with seconds to spare. None of the other games we saw were as exciting as that one.

I think we quit going to Cowboys games when I got out of high school. My family and I still recall those games fondly, but it was always kind of a relief to watch it on TV instead of schlepping through the parking lot and freezing in the stands.

That relief was particularly intense when we watched the icy 1993 Thanksgiving game against the Miami Dolphins in which defensive tackle Leon Lett mistakenly touched a live ball after a botched Dolphins field goal attempt, allowing them to kick again and win. O.J. Simpson was working as a sideline reporter for NBC Sports and his kids were throwing snowballs at him. I remember my mom saying she thought O.J. was really going to let his kids have it once the cameras cut away.

More kidneys, fewer taxes

Way back in 1977, I was a midfielder on what may have been the single worst little league soccer team ever. Far outmatched by more established Southwest Houston teams, we regularly lost by scores like 10-0 and 15-1. The experience just about soured me on competitive sport forever.

One of my few fond memories of that awful season came when a forward from the opposing team air-mailed the ball toward our goal and a fellow midfielder named Jason decided to catch it in a brazen violation of youth soccer's most cardinal rule. The referee immediately yelled, "Hand ball!" and awarded our opponents a free kick. I asked Jason what he was doing and he explained, in age-appropriate language, that we were losers who weren't going to stop losing anytime soon, so why not have a little fun with it?

I think this must be the spirit in which Don Zimmerman, hopeless Libertarian-leaning Republican candidate for Travis County Tax Assessor-Collector, created the ad below (via Burnt Orange Report).

A cotton pickin' good game

I've never been to a Texas/OU game in Dallas before. The prospect of sitting in Friday afternoon pre-game traffic on IH-35 and commingling with thousands of rabid pigskin fans in a WPA-era stadium never held much appeal for me even as a beer-happy 18-year-old.

That said, yesterday's game was one that would've been worth claustrophobia, inconvenience and overpricing to be at. I don't know if it was the best Texas/OU game ever, but it was definitely the best one I've ever witnessed. No matter what the Sooners did, the Longhorns had an answer for it despite having little running game beyond quarterback Colt McCoy's scrambles.

We'll just see if UT lives up to its new number one ranking next weekend when Missouri comes to town to try and avenge yesterday's upset loss to Oklahoma State. For more of our household's coverage of the big game, including an insightful analysis of my color commentary, click here.

Upset at the Juicebox

Well whuddya know? The Astros actually managed to beat the Red Sox 11-10 on Saturday night. It was a great game that went right down to the wire and the most runs I’ve ever seen the Astros score in person. They even managed to eke out a win on Sunday, taking the series 2-1. Not bad for a team that was fighting to stay out of last place.

We were somewhat lucky to make it to Saturday’s game. About 30 minutes after we left Austin on Friday, Kate realized we’d forgotten the tickets. This wasn’t a particularly happy realization, but at least it came before we strode up to Minute Maid Park.

Then it was my turn. Kate and I got together with her cousins after the game to close down a Pappadeaux Seafood on Richmond and I managed to leave my credit card there. I discovered this Sunday afternoon as I was preparing to gas up the car for the trip back to Austin.

Fortunately, the restaurant had my card and we didn’t have to go too far out of the way to retrieve it. Unfortunately, in my initial panic at seeing the card missing from my wallet, I left the gas station without screwing my gas cap back on.

My dad returned to the gas station that night to look for the lost cap, but his search was unsuccessful. He presumes the cap slid off the trunk of my car as I turned onto Westheimer and was washed into the storm sewer by a torrential downpour that hit shortly after we left. Replacement cost: $23.19.

I suppose I should also feel guilty about what this means for the environment, but if I had to lose a gas cap down a sewer, better to have it happen in Houston than near some organic farm where shapely strawberries are grown for NPR listeners.

Them's our Lastros

Thanks to my dad, Kate and I are going to see the Boston Red Sox play the Astros in Houston this weekend.

With the defending World Series champion Red Sox in first place in the AL East and the ‘Stros in next to last place in the NL Central, it probably won’t be too pretty. When you can’t beat the Texas Rangers, the last thing you need is the Red Sox coming to town. Unless you're Astros owner Drayton McLane, who's making a killing by charging premium prices for single game tickets to both the Red Sox and Yankees series at Minute Maid Park.

Kate is already ribbing me about how poorly the Astros are doing this year, and now one of their pitchers has been suspended indefinitely for grabbing the GM by the neck and throwing him to the floor in the club dining room. I’m hoping this lurid little donnybrook will serve as a cathartic catalyst for the Astros, much like “Babygate” did for the 1993 Houston Oilers until they were inevitably beaten by the Joe Montana-led Kansas City Chiefs in the divisional playoffs.

I wouldn’t bet falling American currency on it, though.

The 10-Cent Beer Night Riot

Here's a great story by ESPN's Paul Jackson on the 34th anniversary of a (ahem) great moment in the mostly hapless history of the Texas Rangers baseball club – the 10-Cent Beer Night Riot in Cleveland.

On June 5, 1974, the Cleveland Indians decided to sell cups of beer for 10 cents to increase attendance at their game against the Billy Martin-managed Rangers. Although the behemoth Cleveland Municipal Stadium could've held about 70,000 fans, the 25,000+ that showed up for 10-cent beer proved more than enough.

With each inning, the stadium descended further into chaos. Chairs were thrown, genitals were bared, reporters were punched in the face and bases were literally stolen as the stadium organist tried in vain to calm the drunken mob by playing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." As fans invaded the field and players brandished bats for their own safety, the umpires called the game and awarded a forfeit win to the Rangers.

"If the fucking war is on tomorrow," groused infield umpire Nestor Chylak after the game, "I'm gonna join the other side to get a shot at them"

Colt .45s cap day at Dell Diamond

My pal Mark Fagan over at the Chron sports desk reports on a sweet Round Rock Express giveaway out at the Dell Diamond this weekend. The first 3,000 fans through the gate at Saturday night's game with the New Orleans Zephyrs will receive a free Houston Colt .45s cap.

Beginning play in 1960 at a mosquito-infested ballpark just north of the present-day Astrodome, the Colt .45s were Texas' first Major League Baseball team. When the Dome opened in 1965, the Colt .45s became the Astros.

To this day, the Colt .45s are the only team in Major League history to lose a game when their pitcher threw a nine-inning, complete game no-hitter.

U.S. Bowling Congress Moving to Texas

Finally, my socialized business incentive tax dollars at work for something I actually give a shit about!

Thanks to a $693,000 award from the Texas Enterprise Fund, the United States Bowling Congress has decided to move its headquarters from the Milwaukee suburb of Greendale, Wisc. to Arlington.

The USBC’s relocation is projected to bring 200 jobs and $13 million in capital investment to Texas. The USBC says its new $14 million complex on Six Flags Drive will include an “International Bowling Campus” complete with a 12-to-16 lane bowling equipment testing and training center.

The TEF claims to have helped projects that have brought more than 51,800 new jobs and $15.6 billion in capital investment to Texas. For its part, Arlington will roll in a 50 percent tax abatement on property improvements and a 50 percent rebate of all city hotel taxes generated through USBC-related events.

How 'Bout Them Cowboys, Adolf?

My pal Mark Fagan reposted this hilarious video from Kissing Suzy Kolber on the Chron’s sports blog this afternoon. Although it’s in German, it might be NSFW if you don’t want your colleagues to think you’re going all Aryan on them.

Although I remain a Dallas Cowboys fan for life by virtue of growing up in Dallas during the Golden Age of Staubach, is there really any doubt that if Hitler were a NFL fan, he’d be crying for America’s (and God’s) Team?

Astros Juice Up for 2008

So what if newly-acquired Astros shortstop Miguel Tejada was named today? We need hits, dammit!

Who Cares About Them Cowboys?

Although I’ve been a Dallas Cowboys fan for years, I’m not all that broken up about the fact that Time Warner Cable isn’t carrying tonight’s showdown with the Green Bay Packers on the NFL Network. Screw ‘em if they’re going to make it hard for me to enjoy their product. There are plenty of other things I can do with my free time.

The Dallas Cowboys are just another business that doesn’t really represent anything but their own bottom line. It’s fun to pretend otherwise on occasion, but the magical childhood construct of die-hard sports fandom is ultimately best consigned to the Santa Claus file.

A Royal Blunder

Kate: I first noticed this billboard while driving on I-35 south, where it stood out because of the dazed expression on former UT football coach Royal's face. The poor guy, I thought, probably didn't expect to end up looking like that in this ad campaign. But not being a native Texan or a particularly huge football fan, I didn't notice the sign's most glaring error until I showed Greg the billboard. His exclamation "They misspelled his name!" almost caused me to swerve off the road - not because I was appalled by the copy editing error so much as the volume of the observation.

Greg: Well, what do you expect, Kate? This is Darrell freakin' Royal we're talking about. The Longhorn brain trust loves this man more than Jesus and the Beatles. They put his name ahead of our nation's war dead on the football stadium and he's not even dead yet. I thought the worst local copy editing error one could make was to spell Stevie Ray Vaughan's last name "Vaughn," but this is worse. The deer-in-the-headlights look on the man's face makes me feel sorry for him even though he undoubtedly scored a rather large check for his services and probably doesn't care that one of the world's largest media conglomerates can't spell his name right.

Kate: The thing that gets me about these billboards - that's right, there are at least two of them in Austin - is that Time Warner has been making a point in their recent campaign of stressing their local connection with the "we think like you" messages. Here's what I think - someone needs to do some basic fact-checking.

Greg: I never thought I'd find myself defending the honor of Coach Royal, but I hereby challenge Time Warner to a dual!

This post simultaneously appeared on Lone Star Kate.

UPDATE (12/2/2007): My pal Kent B. pointed out another typo on the Royal billboard. The "K" in "Darrell K Royal" is not a middle initial and therefore should not be followed by a period. The "K" is a tribute to Royal's mom, Katy, who died of cancer when he was still a baby. So not only did Time Warner misspell Royal's name, they insulted the memory of his mother.

Bank 'Em Horns!

When one sees a headline like "The Longhorn Economy" splayed across the front of the Sunday Statesman, it's natural to assume you're about to read a rah-rah puff piece about how great UT football games are for our local economy.

As it turns out, Eric Dexheimer's series about the engorged budget of UT's athletics department is required reading for anyone who cares about higher education in Texas. Set against the backdrop of rising tuition and student services fees, dwindling need-based financial aid opportunities and student loans that take forever to pay off, it's hard not to be sickened by how much money is being thrown around by the Burnt Orange Brass ($107.6 million this year).

Although UT's athletic program does make money, the school's role as pacesetter among programs forces the vast majority of college sports programs that don't make money to mortgage their futures in the name of remaining competitive. For example, four out of every 10 dollars of Texas Tech's current debt service now goes to pay off new and refurbished sports facilities.

Meanwhile, our tax code rewards well-heeled alumni with hefty deductions for donations to athletic programs. Believe it or not, 80 percent of the donations made to university athletic foundations to secure luxury box rentals and prime season tickets can be written off.

Aside from funneling donations away from academics, allowing deductions on luxury box rentals encourages wasteful, extravagant spending of Other People's Money under the phony guise of "doing business." The whole system stands as yet another indictment of our depraved sense of priorities in this country.

All this for a football team that can't even beat Kansas State!