This past weekend I received a hot tip on a camping location located slightly above Sonora. Being that it was going to be almost 20 degrees cooler up there than in the Manteca, I was open to the idea of spending the day someplace cooler.
Inside a downtown Modesto bar, while the customers were indulging in the FIFA World Cup, there was a problem. A major one.
For me, June 23 commenced shortly after 6 a.m.
It's not natural to wake up around the same time as the sun to watch sports, even for the most diehard fans. To me, sports seem to be more of an after-work affair, an opportunity to share a good time with family and friends either in the living room or at a sports bar, or something like that.
During the spring, there are seven sports that encompass the lives of many of the area high school students. That means plenty of stories, late-game heroics and heartbreak moments happen during this time. So what I'm about to do won't be easy. Actually, it'll be extremely tough.
Tommy Mendonca will be back in town. Well, sort of.
What if Gordon Hayward's shot went in?
Sometimes I like to repeat myself, and I'm going to do just that here: High school sports are the purest form of sports. It really captures what sports are all about -- the passion, the endless hours of practice, the small-town glory. And sometimes the athletes get to showcase their hard work in front of thousands of people or just a few dozen, mostly parents and peers. The effort is all the same.
Since I was little, I remember Sundays being the designated football day. I would get out my cheese head, my Green Bay Packer blanket and put on my favorite Bret Favre jersey that was way too big for me. It was bonding time with my family and, of course, I was the dedicated cheerleader for the Packers. Whenever my dad cheered, I did too.
There were plenty of justifiable reasons why we should have left the HP Pavilion in our rearview mirror and go on about our night.
I have a 75 gallon fish tank at home where I have about six tropical fish. When I purchased my fish I tried to get them in pairs. Coincidentally, two of my pairs ended up spawning several times over the summer. Once the cooler weather hit, I noticed several changes occur in the tank. The first change I noticed was the once radiant colors of my fish went pale and their movement became very sluggish. Rarely did any of them feed off the surface of the tank anymore and several even chose to skip meals. All spawning activity also came ...
I've written about my former coaches before and the impact they made on my life. For the most part, they've been good memories. And even the bad ones, which included them yelling in my face, were beneficial because I know it was for my own good.
I was standing about 50 yards from the tee of the second hole and imagining, just for a second, what it'd feel like to get smacked by a speeding golf ball. It wasn't a wish. It was just a thought.
This was my eighth-grade boys basketball tryout: Our coach, a slender man with a monotone voice, instructed us to make five straight free throws. He didn't care who took the shot, but every time a ball refused to go in, we'd run sprints up and down the court.
Recently I was asked to explain the differences between a reaction bait and a rip bait. I realized then, that for those just getting into the sport or who've been out of it for a while can easily be confused with the ever changing fisherman's language.