Month: June 2024

Leave a comment Posted on Donald Trump, Joe Biden, presidential debate

Trump Looked Healthier Than Biden: So What?

I recall Muhammad Ali’s last boxing match against Trevor Berbick in 1981.  At almost 40 years old and out of shape, it was a shame to see the greatest boxer of all time stand motionless, covering his head with his gloves, moving his body back against the ropes, avoiding contact to his aged body.

That’s what I thought of as I watched President Joe Biden debate Former President Donald Trump.

If you plan on voting for him, it was painful to watch.  No one wants to see a decent person look feeble.  But he is 81.

If you plan on voting for Trump, the fourth of July came early.  Shoot off the fireworks.

Presidential debates are a form of entertainment where viewers tune in to see if their guy can make the other guy look bad.  And Biden looked bad, but Trump sounded worse, his lies and hyperboles swimming in superlatives:  “He’s the worst,” “I’m the greatest.”

Close your eyes, don’t be fooled by the “Apprentice” reality star, and listen to what he says about the country you love.  He sounds anti-American.  Remember his Inaugural speech which painted a dark and damaged picture of America? 

The first televised debate of presidential candidates happened in 1960 between Vice President Richard Nixon and Senator John Kennedy.  People who watched the first debate thought that Kennedy won it.  Those who heard the debate on radio thought that Nixon won it.  And ever since then, Americans have chosen presidents based more on their appearance than on their substance.

If that history is any indication, God help America with a second Trump term.

For me, I don’t care what policies Biden or Trump which to implement, how they feel about Ukraine or Israel, about immigration or inflation.  This election is about democracy.

I will vote for Biden because of what he represents—stability, the Constitution, honesty, decency.  A vote for Trump represents chaos, anarchy, lying, meanness.

It stuns me that just 12 years ago, Americans voted for Barack Obama’s second term.  I’m not sure if he were running today if he would get re-elected.

For those Americans who still believe in voting for the candidate who will best lead the most vital country in the world in the future, I’d rather have a frail old man than a hateful one.

Trump thrives on attention and he has already made his mark in history.

He is the first president to be impeached twice.

He is the only former president to be a convicted felon.

He is the only president to break with the traditional smooth transition of power began by George Washington when he refused to attend Biden’s Inauguration.  That act is what separates us from other countries.

People have short memories of when Trump was in office.  Not a week went by without a hysterical false statement from him or a cabinet member resigning from the chaotic West Wing.

After the debate, it is surprising how many Democrats dumped on Biden or wish to drop him off the ticket.

There is one thing Biden has going for him more than any other Democrat:  he beat Trump by seven million votes.

When your guy is down, it is not the time to step on him, but to offer support, to get him up from the mat.

This election is not about Americans’ personal financial situations, it is about America’s democratic situation.

The question foremost on Americans’ minds should not be, “Are you better off today than you were four years ago?”  The question must be, “Is democracy better off today than it was four years ago?”

The clear answer is January 6, 2021.  Trump almost didn’t leave office.  He refused to accept facts that he lost the election.  If he’s elected again, what will he do come January 6, 2029?  He may never leave the White House.  His followers will be more violent.  How can voters hand over the keys to American democracy into his hands again?  This country will never be the same again.

Leave a comment Posted on Jerry West, Los Angeles Lakers, Sandy Koufax

Mr. Clutch, My Hero

As a little boy, I had no aspirations of becoming a professional athlete.  I was short, overweight and had zero natural abilities.  But I had a basketball hoop attached to the backyard patio roofline where I shot 16-footers every day imagining I was Jerry West of the Los Angeles Lakers.

That’s why it was sad to hear the news that the NBA Hall of Famer had passed away at 86.

West along with Hall of Fame Dodger pitcher Sandy Koufax were my two biggest sports idols growing up.

Jerry West had a handful of nicknames including Mr. Clutch and The Logo.  The one I liked best was the lyrical Zeke from Cabin Creek making him seem mythical.

I respected his tenacity to want the ball every time he dribbled down the court, especially during playoff games.  In his 14-year career, he made almost have of his shots which is why I felt confident that whenever he had the ball in his hands the Lakers had a chance to win. 

He had his nose broken nine times.  Imagine having the courage to go through that and to continue playing at an intense level, unafraid of driving to the basket.

The one Achille’s heal was his inability to beat the Boston Celtics in the NBA Finals.  The Celtics beat the Lakers all six times they played each other with West on the team.  Even when the Lakers clearly had the superior team in 1969, something always happened which prevented the Lakers from claiming victory. 

Three of those contests went seven games:  only seven points separated the two teams in those deciding matches.

Laker fans felt the heartache of Jerry West who despite playoff heroics could not find a way to get the leprechaun off the Lakers’ backs.  In fact, he outplayed everyone in 1969 in points and assists, averaging 38 points per game making half of his shots, earning the MVP award, the only time a player on a losing team won it.  That did little to take away the sting from West’s psyche.

In his memoir, West described the depression he felt whenever the Lakers fell short of a title.  Even after his playing days were over and he became an award-winning basketball executive, West could not sit and watch his Lakers in playoff games.  He had to stand in a hallway away from the court, or drive around town in his car.  It’s funny that I used to do the same thing as a fan, unable to watch critical moments in a game, fearful that the Lakers would lose again.

Jerry finally won his one and only championship in 1972.  That team had the best record ever by an NBA team at the time of 69-13 which included a 33-game winning streak, the most consecutive wins by any team that still stands today.

When I was 13, I chronicled the streak by cutting out sports articles from the newspaper and taping them into a scrapbook.  

Earlier that same year, Sandy Koufax was voted into the Baseball Hall of Fame, a good year for my idols.

I was fortunate enough attend the game when the Lakers won that elusive NBA championship against the New York Knicks.

When tickets went on sale for the Finals, my sister Debra drove me to the Fabulous Forum in Inglewood.  After waiting in line for hours, we were able to get tickets for Game Five at the face value price of $15.  That wouldn’t even get you a beer at a game today.  Of course, we weren’t sure if there would be a Game Five at the time.

As it turned out, the Lakers were up three games to one when they returned home at LAX on May 6th to play for the championship at the Forum the next day. 

We were so excited that my sister drove us to LAX to see the players. For people younger than 50, what I’m about to tell you may seem shocking.  

Back then, professional athletes would de-plane at the same terminal as the general public and walk by themselves (no entourages) towards the carousel baggage claim area.  Security was scarce so my sister and I stood back watching the players wait around for their bags.  That was a perfect opportunity for me to ask for their autographs.

And then there he was, number 44, Jerry West, 20 yards away from me—and I froze.  I was too nervous to approach him for an autograph.

Instead, I settled for two of the five starters, starting forwards Happy Hairston and Jim McMillian, and back-up center Leroy Ellis.  I even got Hall of Fame announcer Chick Hearn’s signature as well.

When my brother, sister and I went to the game the next day.  Based on past experiences, we had no confidence that they could finally win a championship, but they did, beating the Knicks 114-100.  It was the only time I was at a sporting event that resulted in my team winning a trophy.

I feel fortunate that both of my boyhood sports heroes have lived long lives (Koufax will turn 89 later this year).  Though I never shook their hands or got autographs, it has been a warm feeling knowing that they were still around for most of my life.

A page from my scrapbook chronicling the 1971-72 Lakers.

2 Comments Posted on Father's Day

Here’s to my Sons

For me Father’s Day is not accurately named.  It should be Children’s Day for without children there would be no fathers.

As a child, I always looked forward to both Mother’s and Father’s days.  My older brother, sister and I would make up signs and hang them up early in the morning so that when Mom and Dad woke up, they’d be surprised.  We also created our own greeting cards.

Those days hold a special place in my heart because it gave us a chance to show our appreciation and love for the best parents any kid could have.

I only had 15 Father’s Days with my dad before he died, but it felt less than that because I was too young to recall the first five or so.

In seeking out photos with my father and me for this column, I was stunned to discover that only two exist.  One was taken at my elementary school promotion ceremony and the other was in our house. 

While we both look nice in the 1970 promotion photo, it is posed.  The way we appear in the candid photo from 1971 when I was 13 years old captures a moment of life.  I’m not sure what my dad was thinking about as he looked past the camera or what I have in my hand (a harmonica?), but the most significant detail shows my affection for my father:  my hand resting on his shoulder.  And, boy, do I wish I had a shoebox full of those photos now.

This year will mark my 26th Father’s Day.  It is an honor to be a dad which is why this Father’s Day is a tribute not to me but to our sons:  Ben (25) and Max (20).  Without them, this Sunday would just be any Sunday.

For the past two years, my wife and I have been empty nesters since Ben works in Salt Lake City and Max attends college up north.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder” is an old saying, but there is a reason it has stayed around because it is true.  As much as my wife and I love one another and enjoy each other’s company, not a day goes by when we don’t think of what Ben and Max are doing or recall a cherished moment with them.  When the phone rings and their names appear on the tiny screen, my heart smiles.  I can’t wait to hear their voice.

We still have beds in their former bedrooms.  Each room still has evidence of a child from games to trophies.  Their smiling faces at various stages of life look at us in frames all around the house.

The last Father’s Day I spent with both boys was back in 2022.  Shortly thereafter, Ben moved to his new job.  Max has been with me the past two years because his college finals wrap up before Father’s Day. That’s good because not having any of the boys with me would not be Father’s Day.

Notice that in the photo from 2022 where my hands are this time–hugging my sons.

It has been a pleasure watching them blossom into young men, navigating their own path through life’s highs and lows, still retaining their core values.  It makes me feel good whenever they say or do something that reminds me that they paid attention to how they grew up with my wife and me.  There were times when it didn’t seem they were listening, but they were.

That’s when I think about how lucky I am to have lived this long to see the child to adult transformation, a transition which my father never witnessed with me.

Dad and Brian at elementary school promotion.
Dad and Brian at home.

Brian with Max and Ben.