Atlanta 1996

Sometimes the decisions you don't make are as defining as the ones you do.

For 15 minutes, on Friday July 27, 1996, I sat on a bench just outside Centennial Olympic Park. A friend and I debated the merits of following a throng of visitors entering the park. There was a positive vibe that night in Atlanta '96. 

Ultimately, we decided to skip it. The night was already late and we had to be up early to attend Saturday events. So we bade the revilers farewell and off we went.

A few minutes later, as we rode MARTA back to our Air BNB, a bomb exploded in the park. It killed two and injured more than 100 others. We just missed being there.

Sometimes, the decisions you don't make...

Monday was the 30th anniversary of the bombing. As I read the recap from Atlanta media, all the sights and sounds of that weekend came rushing back.

Things started innocently enough. I bought two batches of tickets to the games and I traded the surplus for lodging. 

I traveled with a friend and fellow Phuds softball teammate to check out the first two days of action. Then, the plan was to come home and, then, Lisa and I would go back for another round of events.

My friend and I arrived on Friday and went to the men's basketball game between the U.S. and China. The Dream Team won that game in a landslide by the score of 133-70. I still remember Charles Barkley leading the crowd of U.S. fans in a stunning rendition of YMCA.

As fans exited the Georgia Dome, there was a positive buzz in the air. As we discussed the basketball clinic just witnessed, we watched hundreds of international visitors filing into the park. Full of excitement, the fans were enjoying a sultry summer night in Georgia. 

"Unity through sport," I read it described. So true.

Once we completed our debate and departed to our lodging, we didn't check out any media. We got to the place. Showered. Chatted. Sacked out.

Saturday morning dawned gray and rainy. 

Riding the subway, I kept hearing curious words among the travelers and even saw a few newspaper headlines that hinted at the tragedy. Security lines were tight as we arrived at our first venue. 

As the gentle rain fell, I saw more newspapers. People used them as makeshift umbrellas to shield their heads from the precipitation. The message was clear. We missed being present for the Olympic Park Bombing by a whisker.

As soon as I could find a payphone (pre-cellphone days) I phoned home to assure everyone we were safe.

The details of Saturday are more sketchy. I'm sure that is because my thoughts turned mostly to the victims rather than the venues. After attending a couple more competitions, we left on Sunday to make the short drive home. 

Lisa and I did go back early the next week and enjoyed a memorable day at the games of Atlanta 1996.

Our agenda included watching Michael Johnson win the 400M gold medal while wearing his golden shoes. We also saw a baseball game between Australia and the Netherlands. I'm awfully glad we did it. 

There's a nice exhibit at the Atlanta History Center that pays tribute to the 30th anniversary of the Centennial Olympic Games. It features exhibits and artifacts from the Games. It is an enjoyable and comprehensive look back.

And it's fun to remember the fun and excitement of the Games.

But, in spite of all the fun and pageantry we experienced, when I think of the events of that summer, my thoughts first go to the Friday night and the sad experience I barely missed because of the decision I didn't make.

JG

Question of the Day: Did you attend the 1996 Summer Olympics in Atlanta? If so, what are your memories from the games?

Dem Innernashnul Ruse

 On Friday night, The Braves beat the Orioles in 10 innings by the score of 7-6.

Then, on Sunday, the two clubs played another tight game. The Braves won it in 11 innings 3-2.

When the last out of the ninth inning of Friday's game was recorded–and the game headed into extra innings–I said to the ones watching with me "you know what that means?"

Dem innernashnul ruse.

Before you come to the conclusion that my fingers were off-key when typing that last line...some background.

During COVID, Major League Baseball took some measures to protect players. One of those was meant to speed up the game and limit exposure risk. They adopted the rule of adding a designated runner–or ghost runner–to second base when a game went into extra innings. The goal was to limit some of the super-long extra inning games of the past by placing a runner on base in scoring position, thus making a score easier.

Post-COVID, MLB kept the rule in place to help limit the length of games. By definition, the ghost runner is usually the batter who made the out to end the previous inning.

At home, we refer to this as "international rules" (with an East Tennessee brogue) dating to the days when the Concord Choppers roamed the diamond.

In tournament play, if a game went into extra innings, the umpires would often declare "we're going to international rules." Or, in the case of one of our umps, he'd say "dem innernashnul ruse" (barely hitting that last "L" in rules so it sounded like he was saying "ruse").

No one ever explained why the umpires used this phrase. So indeed, it was a bit of a ruse.

So, when the aforementioned Friday Braves game went to the 10th inning, my daughter Holly asked the question, "Why did they call it international rules?" And, the idea for today's post was born!

Doing a little internet sleuthing, I came across this detail. This tournament tiebreaker rule comes from the World Baseball Softball Confederation (WBSC) and was later adopted by youth organizations, such as USSSA, to manage tournament play. If you have a finite number of hours to finish a tournament during a weekend, you have to limit extra innings to keep things moving.

Otherwise, you have late night Sunday championship games with folks heading back to work and school on Monday. That's a scenario no one wants to face.

There is a lengthy discussion thread about the practice on umpire-empire.com.

To me, as a "word person," and a former youth baseball coach, it's interesting that the term became a given in our world. No one explained "designated runner" or "ghost runner." It was just "international rules" and you were just supposed to know what that meant. There was no glossary of terms or an owner's manual or tournament dictionary.

You learned on the fly.

And for the record, even though the Choppers enjoyed success and won more than their share of games overall,  they didn't fare well under "international rules." In fact, I don't ever remember them winning one of these games. I want to say their "international rules" record was 0-3.

Really, that's on me as a coach. We never prepared for that scenario. It would have been easy enough to simulate extra innings and give our pitchers and batters a feel for what they might encounter in a close game in tournament play. But, alas, we didn't do that. 

So the 0-3 record under "international rules" stands. It is really a footnote to our history.

Just a fluke, really, and not a commentary. But, on a late night Friday, it was fun to explore the term and open up a few pleasant memories.

JG

My First QSO

In the ham radio world. first contacts are very important.

It's like a first job. A first car. Or a first date. Or many other notable firsts you can think about. You'll never forget them.

For me: Rax Roast Beef. 1966 Ford Mustang. And, well, two out of three aren't bad. (Smile).

Regarding first contacts, from time to time, members of the Straight Key Century Club (SKCC) will send an email to the group listing the operator's first QSO (ham lingo for contact) within the group.

The notion of a First QSO sent me on a bit of a ham shack scavenger hunt recently. It was not a long one. I found my first logbook from the mid 1970s within minutes. In the book, I found the first listing and scribbled down the operator's name and callsign. 

It was John from Missouri. I went to look him up on QRZ.com. 

Many hams will include an email address on their bio page but, unfortunately, he did not.  I had hoped to drop him a quick email and ask if he would be interested in doing a second contact on the air some 50 years later. But without an email address, my options were limited.

So, I went old school and drafted a quick one page letter. Told him:

• Who I am. 
• Why I was writing. 
• And I included some details of that first contact. 

I included my email address in the note. I dropped the letter in the mail and didn't think much about it.

Then, last week, I got an email from John. He was happy to hear from me. 

Like me, he had taken a break from radio. For years, he had been very involved and reached a point where he was just tired. So, he took a break.

He didn't rule out the possibility that he might dust off the rig at some point and get back into the game. And if he does, he'd said he would be sure to drop me a line so we could consider doing that on-air reunion. 

Truly, a TN to MO QSO is like a lay-up. So, if we agree on a date and time, I am sure it would happen.

In addition to hearing from him by email, the other cool aspect of his email was that he had gone to his files and found the QSL card I sent him back in the 70s after our contact. It was so early during my ham radio days that I hadn't already received my permanent printed QSL card. I adapted a 1970s era postcard to confirm our contact.

Talk about stepping into a time machine. To see a bit of your handwriting from 50 years ago. That is pretty amazing. In my case, it was early teenage boy scribble. 

But still pretty cool.

What's more, I went to my files and found the card John sent to me. I emailed back attachments featuring the front and back of his card.

I hope it is as meaningful to him as mine was to me.

JG

Your Ballplayin' Days

When my family moved into our new neighborhood in the 1970s, the first person who greeted me was the boy across the street. His name was Dana. 

I guess word had spread through the grapevine there was a new kid in town; a new kid in Hidden Valley.

During our childhood years, we were frequently together. He was my Halloween trick-or-treat partner; he and I would often play with our Hot Wheels cars or GI Joes.

And as we grew up a little bit, we always played whatever sport was in-season. Basketball in his folks' driveway; football or baseball in his family's vacant lot. 

Then, when we got older, one of the guys really got a hold of a pitch, launched that baseball and one-hopped the house across the street. Dana's dad made the slow walk out to the pitcher's mound and told us, "Boys, your ballplayin' days are over." 

It was the right call.

Yesterday, I went to a Celebration of Life event for my friend. Dana passed away, suddenly, (too early) last month. 

Those words: "...your ballplayin' days are over..." were ringing in my ears. 

Going to the celebration was also the right call. 

Throughout our childhood, Dana was my rainy day buddy and, later, my wingman when I drove us to school during my senior year (his junior year).

He was also willing to don a tuxedo and stand up for me as one of the groomsmen at our wedding.

Here we are, together (sans tux) at the rehearsal.

Sadly, after the wedding, we lost touch. There wasn't any sort of falling out. We just moved in different directions. I remember running into him in restaurants, twice, in the past 20 years.  Our greetings were always warm and cordial 

Like our time on the sandlot, our active time as friends had passed–even though he is one of the special people who helped weave the fabric of those early years. I will always think of him that way. And whenever we re-connected, it was just like old times. 

I told you a lot about how the Summer of '78 was the year I became immersed in modern rock and pop music. Dana helped guide the way. And after I graduated from college and moved home in preparation for a first job and our wedding later that spring, he and I picked up like it was '78 all over again. 

Or our ballplayin' days. 

I thought a lot about those times–and regaled others with stories of our childhood antics–at the Celebration. Building a snow fort. Sharing and swapping our Halloween loot. His impression of Igor, saying "Walk dees way..." that never failed to crack me up.

Most of the people there represented later years. Friends of his daughter. His co-workers. His brother and sister-in-law.

But I was there to represent the boys of Hidden Valley; Lewis and Larry. Bobby and Mike. Joe and Steve. Those were the boys who watched in amazement as the baseball took flight that day.

In some ways, it feels like the ball never landed. Or maybe it just did.

JG

Malaprops

Yesterday, I had to stop by the post office to drop off a package. 

I almost said to myself "I am going to the postING office." That was something my dad used to say. 

Posting office instead of Post Office. Said for no other reason than to entertain himself. Harmless humor. Family lore.

In the months since my dad passed away, I've thought about his use of malaprops from time to time. It was his nerdy-engineer sense of humor coming out.

For instance:

• Instead of a turkey sandwich, he'd fix himself a TURN-KEY sandwich
• In springtime, he referred to the local celebration as the Dogwood SMARTS Festival instead of ARTS
• When he was grilling, he'd tell us he was grilling some SNAKES rather than STEAKS

Harmless humor

I never practiced the art of malapropism, personally, but it is time-honored device played for humor in the arts and entertainment. 

Stand-up comedian Norm Crosby was noted for using malaprops as his signature. Barney Fife, of Mayberry fame, often used the wrong phrase when he was trying to impress people. And in Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream," the venerable character, Bottom, is the author's comedic relief with his frequent misuse of language. 

Not that Nick (my dad) was referencing any of those individuals when he intentionally misspoke. But, he did enjoy some good wordplay.

For instance, vehicles: He described his Ford F-250 "camper special" as the "pick-me-up truck" (or alternately, the pick'm-up truck). His vintage 1966 Ford Mustang was often called "the horsestang."

And in the world of retail and restaurants, his beloved Sears and Roebuck–where he worked as a college student and later, frequently shopped–became "Sears Bucks." The old K-Mart store was known was "Kentucky Mart." And if you wanted to get a quick burger, you might stop by the "Golden Starches" (instead of Golden Arches). His computer was not a Dell, but a Dull.

These sorts of unique personality quirks add breadth and depth to a cherished person. They add a touch of humanity.

You may have someone in your life who does something unique. An uncle who whistles while he works. A friend who occasionally skips. Or an ex-partner who was pleasantly forgetful. I once had a date with a woman who referred to a turn indicator as a "clicker" and windshield wipers as "swishers."

Clickers and swishers. That always makes me smile, too.

I don't think of Nick's tick as one of his main traits but I do, occasionally, recall one of those malaprops as colorful side notes of his personality.

For example, when I was at the "posting office" yesterday, I walked right by the self-service K'eye Osk (kiosk). And I smiled.

JG

Trends

Where it comes to my sports rooting interests, you might say I am a traditionalist. 

And whereas I am a fan of some of the improvements MLB has made in the game recently, I am not one of these fans who jumps on the wave of a trendy new fan activity - especially not when I'm attending a game.

• I don't know that I've ever sung "Day-O" in a call and response.
• I don't feel the need to "clap my hands" when I'm told "everybody clap your hands."
• And I never, well, jump on the wave...of The Wave.

These trends remind me a bit, of, what we used to call "forced fun" in the world of work. Like the time I went on a business trip and, despite the fact I had a serious head cold, was told everyone in the group: "Is going out bowling, tonight, and you will enjoy it."

Forced fun.

I am also not likely to jump on the wave of the latest fan trend that seems to be sweeping the ballparks of our nation - "Tarps Off." I'm not sure I would describe it as "forced fun" as in the other examples, but, still, it still doesn't feel like something I'd ever want to do.

If you haven't seen this in action, I'll briefly describe "Tarps Off." A group of young men sitting in the upper deck cheap seats–usually left field or right field–take their shirts off and wave them in a circular fashion. There was a small but festive group at a recent game I attended.

Depending on which version of the practice you read about, the trend either started in St. Louis or in college football last season. 

In any case, it happens at many ballparks now.  A bunch of young guys--usually thin college-aged chaps, although some do look younger--gather at the appointed spot and partake in the activity. The group may start off small but adds members as the game progresses.

They seem to be featured at least a couple times on a team's telecast.

I guess this craze is one way to market seats that might normally be low-sellers. And, if I were a young college student, I could definitely see the appeal. Maybe you don't have enough money for a lower bowl seat and an adult beverage? But, if you buy the cheap seats, you might still have enough cash left over for a frosty libation. Or two.

Looks like they are having fun. But it's not for me.

I used to always cringe when the P.E. teacher divided up the boys between "shirts and skins" for an organized/pick-up basketball game in class. I hoped like anything to be a part of the shirts squad. Alas, I'd say my record–like many coin tosses–was about 50/50. 

Take it off!

Nothing like being a teenage boy, pouring the sweat with nothing to soak it up as you run up and down the court beside your cohorts for an hour.

At least, in this case, there is no running involved. Or shouldn't be. But, I would imagine the "Tarps Off" crowd could get a bit sweaty on a sultery summer night. Or day. 

Alas. This too shall pass. Like past crazes such as Turn Back the Clock night. Or Free Ball night. Or 10 Cent Beer night. Or, my goodness, Disco Demolition night. 

Compared to some of those events, maybe some shirtless college kids doesn't sound so bad, after all.

JG

My Dad's First Ham Shack

When you visit the bio pages for modern day amateur radio operators posted on QRZ.com, you often see vintage pix of hams and their shacks from their childhood or teenage years.

Alas, about the time I was getting INTO the hobby, my dad was transitioning OUT of it. So, to my knowledge, he never photographed our set-up. I've never seen any photos of the equipment we used for all those years when I was first exploring and then falling in love with the hobby of ham radio.

I always thought it was a shame that he was disinterested in our radios about the time I "caught the bug." It was a missed opportunity for some father-son bonding time. And, moreover, I'd love to have a photo of the shared K4KYN/WA4ZJW ham shack now.

My parents' old house was one of those 1970s "split-level" homes. The downstairs floor was mostly underground. And part of the underground was a garage. My dad's rig sat in the southwest corner of the house.

After a few years, he built an exterior garage/workshop and turned the old garage into a family room with an adjacent laundry room. The ham shack stayed in the southwest corner of the room.  I operated from that little corner for years - summer days and late nights. Whenever I had some free time, I was on the radio.

When he installed a central heat and air system, the ductwork emanated from a small control room he located just across the way from the radios. I always thought it was cool when I'd pick up a little radio reverb from the HVAC.

Later, he converted that area into a photography dark room and moved the ham shack one room over to a small utility room in the center of the lower level of the home.

To my knowledge, there are also no photos of the second set-up.

But last week, when we were cleaning out my late father's bedroom closet (more about that project to come in a future edition), we unearthed a cache of old family photos. And in the stack of pictures was one from February 1960. On the back of it, in my dad's very precise penmanship, is the inscription "where I spend many hours."

It's a photo of my dad's first "ham shack."

First off, apart from the radio gear, I love the fact this shot preserves a bit of mid-century America (mid-mod) furnishings. The curtains. The dresser. The hardwood floors. Even the clock.

It's how homes looked when I was growing up. So, to me, the photo is very nostalgic. The black and white format leans into the mid-mod vibe.

If memory serves, dad set up his first ham shack in his bedroom. He connected to the world with a wire antenna strung out the window into a near-by tree. He told me, once, about talking to an English operator (via voice rather than morse code) with very low power, just after midnight one night. He felt proud of that achievement.

In the 1960s, your entry level license was called "novice" and it was temporary. You had to, then, study and progress up the ladder of license classifications in order to continue operating. Dad got his novice license in 1959, just after coming back from serving in the U. S. Army while still living at his parents' home in West Tennessee. You might recall, I mentioned previously, he was a radio telegraph operator for his unit.

His first licensed address was, indeed, the family farm just north of Memphis. I think I told you about this, recently, when I wrote about The Callbook. Anyway, that's the backstory.

By February 1960, he had been hired for a job in East Tennessee, moved to Knoxville, rented a house, upgraded his license to the "General" classification, and set up shop as you see in the picture.

I can't really identify the equipment he was using in 1960. By the time I remember his earliest operating, it was a much more robust set-up. But, clearly, what he has here was enough to whet his appetite and get on the air. 

Anyway, it's a real treat to have come across this picture. 

And who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and find some other undiscovered photos when we dig into the hall closet clean-out project later this year.  Wouldn't that be something?

For the moment, however, it's pretty cool to have unearthed this treasure and caught a glimpse into a by-gone era. It's a window into a simpler time, for sure, and a piece of family history we had not previously seen.

JG

Reunions

One of the benefits of retirement is the flexibility it affords. And one benefit of that flexibility is that you have time to do some things you might not have been able to do previously.

Like reunions.

I told you previously about re-connecting with members of my high school graduating class. I've attended two of its quarterly get-togethers and plan to do the upcoming one next month.

I was also invited to join a group of former Children's Hospital employees. The group gets together for regular lunch gatherings. I was happy to receive the invitation but, honestly, when I went to the luncheon last Friday, I wasn't sure many people would remember me. 

What's the current phrase? "It's been a minute." Indeed, it has been a little while since I was hired for my first PR job, managing internal publications, for ETCH (recently re-branded as Dolly Parton Children's Hospital). I worked there for three years until I went back to grad school.

So, even though it was a glorious ride, it was a relatively short one.

I wasn't sure my former co-workers would remember this young fella (especially without his early 90s era button suspenders).

I couldn't have been more wrong. There was a group of more than 20 Children's alumni at the meet-up. Upon my arrival, I was the recipient of many hugs and handshakes. And rather than folks not remembering me, some were afraid I wouldn't remember them. 

I did.

In fact, one of the "other duties as assigned" for a P.R. practitioner is to build relationships; to create a professional network. It is important to do so within the external community but you also do it within the structure of your organization.

So, I remembered many of the doctors, nurses and administrators who were enjoying lunch together as many were a part of that vital network. In an instant, a flood of memories of those former co-workers came rolling back. I recalled patient stories I wrote and interviews with staff that made those possible. I remembered hospital special events for which I provided support and the teamwork and camaraderie we shared.

And indeed, there was a lot of shared camaraderie around the table on Friday.

It was a special organization to serve.  I experienced a great deal of genuine warmth and found it was a great place to begin my public relations career. I feel honored to have had that opportunity. 

And I was so glad the group reached out to include me in this get-together.  You can count on me heading back for the next one.

JG

Supply Change

In the days when the term "supply chain" was in its infancy, I worked in an organization that bought "a lot of stuff."

The group controlling inventory adopted the term as its departmental name. The only problem was, the area technical clerk didn't get the memo about the official name. She referred to the department as "Supply ChaNGE" and would answer the telephone accordingly.

She put a very sweet southern whang on the end of the phrase and it really sounded like "supply chayunge..."

I always thought her rationale, though inaccurate, was fairly logical. If you have 50 cases of copy paper on the shelves and someone comes and takes away two of them, you are down to 48 cases. And, at that point, you did, indeed, experience: Supply. Change. 

The supermarket where we often shop is going through its own version of supply change at the moment. In fact, I'd call it a major renovation.

In fact, many customers would call it a major disruption. 

Out front, there are large metal storage pods. Who knows what is inside. Maybe part of the supply yet to change? The familiar layout of the store has changed to a great degree as has the parking lot.

The other day, as I was checking out, I heard the customer in front of me grumbling about the disruption. The checker confessed to her that, at last count, the store had received more than 10,000 complaints.

Count me as one of them. When I had a chance to complete a customer survey recently, I expressed my dismay.

Very few people like change. Many of us will deal with it. But it is a bitter pill to swallow when you feel, in your heart, the change will likely stick it to you in the end.

Just recently, we clicked a button on the store chain app that caused our fuel discount points to evaporate like gas vapers in a mid-July breeze. I asked about the disappearance and the young cashier grabbed a flier and said, "Well, yes, we're doing some things differently. This should explain it." Basically it is an either/or scenario. Either = more money for the consumer. Or = fine print that sounds beneficial but really isn't.

Rolls eyes. "The Man" strikes again!. We'll make sure to un-click the app button.

Meanwhile, the fear is, at the very least, all of these changes are designed by some super duper marketer type who pitched the re-design as a way to, inadvertently, cause customer confusion adding up to more profits. After all, if you can keep the customer in the store an average of 12.5 additional seconds during each visit it translates into increased purchases of $2.94. Multiply that by the 10,000 complainers and...

Well, you get the picture.

An even more draconian view is that the supermarket is going to take away some of your favorite items or preferred brands. Or, like the bean counter's rationale, take away the discounted brands and force the consumer into making a more premium purchase. That will add another 40 cents to the average increase.

I think, maybe, that's why our fuel points went "pffft."

Anyway, at the end of the day, we're just grumbling because we're confused.  And we'd be a little less concerned if the same chain hadn't done previous comprehensive renovations. All with similar outcomes to what we fear.

Earlier this week, I went to purchase heavy duty lawn bags. I meandered down the rows where the same item used to be housed. I came away empty-handed. Eventually, I found myself near the aisle with the make-up and hair dye and, voila, off to the side were the trash bags.

Zoinks! 

When I overheard the conversation mentioned earlier, the checker told the customer ahead of me, this "redesign" is expected to continue for months - even though there are signs all over the place saying the big whatever is "coming soon."

So, here's my question: will the back to school items be housed in the mustard and mayo row? Will I find the Halloween candy in the bread aisle? 

Please, a return to normalcy. At least in time for the holidays.

JG

ASG 2026

Last night, the American League shut out the National League 4-0 in the 2026 All Star Game, the 96th in history. In fact, the NL only managed 3 hits while striking out a whopping 15 times.

There wasn't a lot of memorable action in the game. Really, the ceremonies (pre-game and in-game) were the things I'll take away from this edition.

If we somehow forgot the game was being played in Philly, FOX surely kept reminding us. Yeah, yeah, we get it.

Now in the books, last night's game fits into the on-going tapestry. Ninety-six squares and counting. Heroes and highlights. Magic moments. 

I remember many of the most vivid ones. Some might say that means #CoachJeff is getting older. OK, I'll accept that. But it sure has been fun to watch them along the way. Family tradition.

As I set my own personal calendar, the Midsummer Classic really does feel like the mid-point. This was really true during my school-age years. It was often one of the biggest highlights of summer when life was lived at a slower pace.  

As a tyke, I remember watching the 1970 All Star Game. So, I guess that was my first. 

Through the years, here are some I remember:

1970 - Pete Rose barreled into catcher, Ray Fosse, at home plate to score a walk-off win for the N.L.

1971 - Reggie Jackson hit a towering home run onto the roof of old Tiger Stadium in Detroit. 

1979 - Dave Parker threw a rope to home plate to nail Brian Downing at home plate at the Kingdome in Seattle.

1993 - John Kruk's shaky at bat vs. Randy Johnson.

1999 - Boston Red Sox legend Ted Williams was greeted on the field at Fenway Park by the '99 All Stars.

2000 - Hometown star, Chipper Jones, tied the game with a home run in Atlanta at Turner Field.

2002 - The 2002 Midsummer Classic ended in a tie when both teams, famously, ran out of pitchers. 

2025 - The National League won the 2025 All Star Game on a "swing off" after the American League rallied from a 6-0 deficit. 

What moments will we all remember from the 2026 game? Fifteen Ks? One hit batsman (and a lot of fingers crossed that he wasn't hurt). Lots of pageantry surrounding America250. 

And how will the 2026 ASG fit into the 96 year fabric of the game?

What were your favorite moments (past and present)? Drop us a line and let #CoachJeff know your highlights from last night and yesteryear.

JG

Eyeball QSO

In the amateur radio world, there are a number of "Q signals." QSO, for instance, means an on-air contact. 

An "Eyeball QSO," then,is when you meet a fellow amateur radio operator in person. So, you see each other eyeball to eyeball.

I had the opportunity for just such of a meet-up last Saturday. Lisa and I drove to Middle Tennessee and I had lunch with a number of members of the Tennessee Contest Group (TCG). I had previously completed QSOs with some of the operators. And for others, it was the first time to meet them.

Either way, it was great fun. We all talked shop. Exchanged stories. Made future plans. And had some good food and fellowship in the process.

An added bonus: Lisa and I discovered there is a Tim Horton's in Lebanon, TN (just down the road from where the lunch bunch gathered).

As for the meet-up, the more I go into this ham radio re-boot of mine—now nearly five years—I am finding this aspect of the hobby is one of my favorites. It's one thing to exchange dits and dahs over the airwaves.

That's really cool.

But then to meet the person from the other end of the QSO in person. That's really special.

For some hams, it's not important. For me, it is becoming one of the most important factors. To meet the person behind the signal. To learn a little about them. To see them in person.

I did it when I met my friend, Tim, in Seattle two years ago. I did it again last summer at Hamvention when I spent time with so many. And now, a meet up with TCG colleagues.

Moving forward, I have a table full of new contacts I've met in person. And I will hope to build on those connections moving forward and do other similar get-togethers as time and opportunity allows.

JG

Maps, Logistics & Baseball: A CoachJeff Trifecta

If you've been reading the blog for a while, you know there are certain topics that seem to come up again and again.

Baseball, of course. But also maps, travel, geography, lists, and transportation also make the Top 10 list. If #CoachJeff had not pursued a college major in communications, I could easily have seen myself doing well in logistics. 

Anyway, all that to say, when I re-discovered the baseball fandom maps I mentioned last week, I knew I was in trouble. It's easy for me to lose myself for hours on a website like that.

A reminder: In last Thursday's edition–Dodger Blue–I wondered aloud about Dodger fans in East Tennessee. That thought prompted a search of my internet bookmarks until I found the NY Times map of MLB Fandom.

On this map, you can drill down to the very zip code. And the map lists the Top Three MLB teams in the area. The Times calls it "A Map of Baseball Nation."

The maps were created using estimates of team support based on how many Facebook users “liked” each team in a ZIP code. The Times curated the data to create the finished product.

When I took my deeper dive that I promised last week, I spent time looking at some interesting factors. 

For instance, there are vast swaths (think midwest and west) in which one team dominates. The Minnesota Twins, the Seattle Mariners, the Colorado Rockies and Arizona Diamondbacks all have huge geographic fanbases that stretch across numerous large states. 

I was also fascinated to see how large the fanbase is/was for the San Francisco Giants. Not only do the Giants dominate the Bay Area and Northern California in general, the geographic presence extends into middle California and into areas of Nevada, too. And Hawaii is also Giants territory.

Or was. That is when I found the fine print. The map was generated in 2014 - the heyday of Giant domination. The Giants won the World Series, you might recall, in 2010, 2012 and 2014.

But before I felt comfortable writing today's piece, I had to go see if there was a more recent map and, indeed, there is. It is generated by VividSeats.com and, as the name suggests, is based on MLB ticket sales. The map was created last year.

And, now, in the era of Dodger domination, LA is the team of choice in Hawaii.  Don't worry if you are a Giants fan, your geographic area is still huge as you can see.

For those of us in Braves Country, the map also confirmed what I hoped was true. The Braves own the region. Check out all that night midnight blue in the Southeast.

                          (Southeast section from VividSeats map)

And, as we'd expect, there is a Braves-Cardinals fandom line in TN (timely, considering they faced off last weekend). It exists just west of Nashville. There is a similar Reds-Cardinals line to the north in Kentucky. 

Another thought that came to mind...what of the two team cities?

As you might suspect, the Yankees dominate their market. They only cede Long Island counties to the Mets.

In a like manner, the Angels are only most popular in Orange County, CA. The surrounding area, like the cap in my story, is Dodger Blue. And in Chicagoland, there are only three counties that belong to the White Sox. As you'd imagine, they are the ones that touch the South Side. All others in the area are Cubs Country.

One last thought before I turn you loose to explore the maps for yourselves...I wonder what drives some of the random fan affiliation? Maybe some of you know the answers. If you're so inclined, check out the maps for yourself.

Meanwhile, I wonder, why:

Davis County, IA -- surrounded by Cubs, Royals and Cardinals fandom -- goes for the Colorado Rockies

Graham County, KS -- is Miami Marlins turf

Greene County, NC -- is San Diego Padres country

There are many more similar anomalies. Check them out.

You will note that, beyond the Southeast, there are patches of Braves Country scattered throughout our nation. And in fact, I've met many people from around the U.S. who are Braves fans. Much of it dates to the days when their games were broadcast on Superstation TBS during the vast expansion of cable television. 

So, from Wright County, MO to Prince George County, VA to Antelope County, NE you can find Braves fans. When we were at Fenway Park in May, there were numerous Braves fans in attendance as you can see behind the visitors' dugout. 

When you think of the coverage of the Superstation back in those days, its no wonder.

According to VividSeats, the Atlanta Braves are the MLB team favored in the highest number of counties across the nation. Clearly, the Superstation effect is real.

I'm acquainted with a devoted Braves fan in Muscogee County, GA and friends with one in Orange County, NC.  I know a Braves fan who hails from Sioux County, IA and another who lives in Suffolk, VA.

And of course, there are plenty right here in East TN.

JG

Dodger Blue

Yesterday, when I took my daily walk at a near-by park, I found a Los Angeles Dodgers ballcap on one of the park benches.

As I circled the track, my mind investigated a number of scenarios for how it might've been left at the park.

But before I get there, a confession. I'm not a big fan of the big-spender Los Angeles Dodgers.  In fact, I tend to root against these mega teams that have endless supplies of cash–and the Dodgers have taken that to new levels in recent years–and also receive endless fawning coverage from the elite national media. 

I think these big pocket books and prominent coverage tend to capture the casual fan.

Some years ago, for instance, a young man was listing his favorite sports teams to me. "New York Yankees. Duke Blue Devils college basketball, New England Patriots (during the Tom Brady years)..." I sneered, somewhat, and asked "Why don't you add the Los Angeles Lakers so you can have a complete set?"

He chuckled, and shook his head, somewhat sheepishly, as if to say "Yes, I know...frontrunner..."

Some years ago, I saw on one of those fan coverage maps that the New York Yankees were the third most popular team in Memphis, my old neck of the woods, behind the St. Louis Cardinals and Atlanta Braves. Two out of three, I get. But why else in the Deep South would fans flock to a ball club so closely aligned with the big cities of the northeast?

I just re-visited the map and found that in the zip code where my grandfather's farm was located–and where my dad grew up and I once lived–the Yankees have leapfrogged the Cardinals. The Braves aren't even listed. The Red Sox–another elite, northeastern team–is now listed as the third most popular team.

By the way, if you are a map geek like me and want to burn a few hours of quality time, click here for the map. It's a fascinating look state by state, county by county and, yes, down to the zip code.

My theory, and this comes back to the conversation with the young man mentioned previously, is if you don't have a distinct rooting interest (like my friend, Tim, a reader of the blog, a midwesterner and devout Chicago Cubs fan), the casual fan will jump on the frontrunner train. It's true in western Tennessee, western Nebraska and even Key West, Florida. I'm sure there are exceptions, of course.

Programming note: I am going to peruse this updated map in more detail over the weekend. Look for a #CoachJeff post on the MLB Fandom Map next week.

I'll never forget my experience last summer with Holly and Paul when fans of the Bronx Bombers invaded Truist Park. The youthful fan sitting right next to me, with a syrypy sweet tea Southern accent, rooted for the Yankees with all his heart...just before he and the Mrs. drove back to Alpharetta (not Alphaville).

Front runners - most of 'em!

Which brings me back to the cap I found at the park yesterday and the questions that came to mind as I circled the track:

1. Why would someone leave such a nice, albeit slightly worn, cap there?
2. What would bring someone wearing Dodger Blue to my park in Farragut, Tennessee.

The Dodgers have surely become the beast of the league, with an unlimited payroll and the ability, it seems, to defer contracts out until the tricentennial. Maybe this fan is swooped up in Shoheimania. Or perhaps a Freddie Freeman fan who switched allegiances when the Dodgers plucked our former captain from the Braves roster four years ago?

Maybe she/he is a displaced Brooklynite or a SoCal expat. I doubt I will ever know the answer. 

In the meantime, if the person left the cap as a shrine to the Bums–Dodger greats of the past, it is a lovely tribute.

But, if the person just misplaced their lid, it's on the park bench near the water's edge.

JG

Analytics

It has been several years since I coached my last game for the Concord Choppers. And in the years since the final out was recorded. I've often thought about changes in the game over the last two decades.

In the age of analytics, I wonder how I might have fared. 

Some of my pre-game and post-game speeches to the ball club might seem woefully outdated by modern standards.

The teachings of me and my fellow coaches focused on simple principles:

For Pitchers:

• Spot your fastball and work off it
• Stay simple and consistent with your mechanics
• Trust your catcher

For Fielders:

• Keep your mind focused 
• Anticipate what you might do if the ball is hit to you before the pitch
• Trust the fundamentals and keep yourself in good fielding position

For Hitters:

• Don't try to do too much
• Take what the pitcher is giving you
• Chop the ball

In some ways, the "chopping" act played a part in the naming of the team. That and, well, everyone loves some good alliteration!

But that chopping point is, really, the focus of my thinking today. Recently, I've been thinking about how much coaching the game has changed in 20 years.

Our hitting philosophy worked on basic physics. By chopping down on the ball when you struck it, you'd create backspin which would, in turn, create loft. And truly, the Choppers hit many home runs and extra base hits during their run of success.

But now, in the age of the three true outcomes (home run, strike out, walk). I'm afraid our teaching wouldn't (ahem) fly. We taught our guys NOT to swing upward. Now, that approach is in vogue.

FIP. BABIP. WAR. Bleh.

I'm not making light of the terms, as they are key elements of the modern game which I love so much. But in our coaching era, they would have been nothing more than alphabet soup. Truly, the evolution was probably already underway behind the scenes while we were coaching as the "Moneyball" era took hold but hadn't trickled down to our level.

But by the mid 20-teens, long after the Choppers left the dugout, baseball analytics became the rage everywhere. And indeed, you can't watch a broadcast today without such elements as launch angle, exit velocity and expected outcome. 

"Max effort" was something we taught our pitchers NOT to do. Now, it is the only way to consistently hit 100 MPH on the radar gun. And maybe it is why there are so many arm injuries for young hurlers. 

I suppose all sports have evolved. The hurry-up offense, in football, used to be a late game tactic when time was running out. Now, it can be featured the entire game (and often is). Basketball used to exist without the three point line. These days, the game is built around it.

So, it isn't shocking that our grand game would also modernize.

Still, I'd like to think that some of the basics we used to teach still resonate. Be on time. Hustle. Respect the game.

Those are winning principles in any era in my book.

JG

Inside the Ham Shack

The old idea of an amateur radio station being located in a small structure thrown together out back is about  as outdated as the notion of passing a code test in order to get your license. 

(Man, sometimes, I wish the code test was still required...).

In modern times, actually, many hams have put together carefully curated rooms full of rigs, accessories and gadgets. Some of these facilities are highly stylized.

My friend Ed's, for instance, is amazing.

Going inside the ham shack of K4KYN...not so much. Carved out of a corner of a bonus room that once served as a teenager sleepover haven, the K4 corner is a few inches away from where the air hockey table once rested. Or was it the pool table?

These days, in the down-downstairs of our home, there are two storage areas, various shelves, an old-style entertainment center and a comfy couch we've owned for years. In other words, the room is anything but carefully curated.

In the only part of the room where a desk could be placed, I set up a home office for use during COVID when we were all working from home. It was during the same era that I got back into the ham radio hobby and began setting up the K4KYN station.

When I first got back on the air and I posted the first picture of my "shack" on my bio page, a seasoned ham teased me that it was the neatest ham radio desk he had ever seen.

Of course, the truth is, I was just getting started. There was barely anything on the desk.

Over the course of nearly five years, I have added a few awards, a big screen monitor (and a shelf to house it) and several files and QSL cards. These days, the K4KYN ham shack now has a "lived in" look that would probably impress the selfsame veteran ham.

Recently, I added a new accessory to the ham shack. Hanging on the wall behind my rig—and just below the old K4KYN license plate that I told you about recently—is a cross stitch done by my sister. She gave it to me recently.  

When we think of our dad and things he did while we were growing up, ham radio played a big role. Thus, it is a connection for both of us to our childhood.

So, in the past five years since I returned to the hobby, I have occasionally given her updates on my activities. A couple years ago, during the holidays, I gave her and her daughters a tour of the shack. During that tour, I found a cache of my dad's old QSL cards and I gave one to her for a keepsake.

And I think in that moment she got the idea to produce this nice little accent piece.

Fast-forward a few years. The artwork now has a very prominent place on the wall. I'll see it whenever I'm operating the station. 

And when I do, I'll smile and be appreciative of this very thoughtful gift.

JG

America 250 Redux

Today: One last #CoachJeff post on America250 as we look back at the holiday weekend.

Our's was a fun and relaxing celebration and I hope the same is true for you.

Things we did to celebrate:

• Watched a lot of FIFA World Cup action.
• Also watched a little Braves baseball.
• Hosted extended family for a backyard barbecue with all the fixins'.

Things we didn't do:

• Attend the local parade. It was a bit too hot for the home folks.
• Attend a fireworks exhibition. Everyone was enjoying the family gathering so much the time got a way from us.
• Set off fireworks on our own. It is illegal to do so in our county. Some neighbors didn't get that memo, however.

Not to worry. It was a very nice 4th of July despite a few booms.

Lots of laughter and energy from my kids and their cousins. My mother soaking it all up. My sister and I having a nice sidebar conversation. Lisa playing the role of genteel hostess and doting aunt.

It was one for the books. 

I did slip outside for an early morning walk and prayer time. And, yes, that was me out in the front yard pausing to salute the flag. I told you last week I am a nerd when it comes to such things.

As for the day, the burgers were tasty, the company was great and the home team won.

A perfect holiday recipe!

JG

America 250

One of my goals with #CoachJeff's blog is to stay away from controversial topics. My theory is that if you are online to read political content, for instance, there are many more qualified people writing on the topic. 

So, today is probably about as close as #CoachJeff will get to being political. Cuz, you see, July 4th is coming up–America 250–and some folks aren't very enthusiastic about the date. I am.

This morning, I unfurled my flag and I am proud to display it. 

After all these years, I still believe in the Shining City on the Hill from scripture that President Reagan so richly described 40 years ago. 

When I attended my niece's dance recital last month, I felt my heart beat just a little bit stronger as we heard all of the patriotic standards played during the performance. When I was at the Braves game with my friend Dave two weeks ago, I heard singer Timothy Miller (#tenorlion) deliver a stunning rendition of "God Bless America, " my eyes welled.

Maybe I am just a nerd when it comes to such things. Perhaps it comes from my unbringing as a part of a small generation sandwiched between our older, former hippie cousins and the cynical youngsters who followed us. We were raised to be patriotic. And I guess I never lost that ferver.

I won't lie: One of the most stirring moments I've experienced was being in the crowd at the 1996 Olympics, watching "The Dream Team" play and joining in as the fans chanted "USA. USA."

If you are like me and you're looking forward to this July 4th, my advice to you is go all out. Really lean into the holiday. If you're old enough: remember how we celebrated the Bicentennial 50 years ago and do it again for #250. And if you are younger, there are lots of videos online that will give you the highlights.

If, on the other hand, you are on the other side of this issue, and you're not excited about America 250, I hope you can find some joy in the upcoming weekend. 

Enjoy a concert in the park, a waterfront fireworks display at dusk, a creamy bowl of homemade ice cream or a juicy melon at a backyard barbecue.

Have fun.

• And if you don't want to do something July 4theseque, there are many great ways to enjoy this weekend. Dinner out with friends. 
• Watch a ballgame. 
• Attend a play, concert or movie. 
• Binge watch that show you've been talking about for months.

Or get behind this scrappy U.S. men's soccer team that just advanced to the Round of 16 last night with a 2-0 win over Bosnia-Herzegovina! They play again Monday night.

My advice, whatever your choice, do something relaxing and enjoyable!

Monday will come soon enough and we can all go back to the grind. But for one nice weekend in early July, let's all make it a good one.

Do it for #America250. Or just for yourself.

JG

Baseball in Canada

I've always been taken with the fact that our country's birthday, as well as those of our friends and allies France and Canada, all take place in this month.

What is it about July? Maybe it's the heat. 

In any case, as we prepare to mark the occasion of America 250, our neighbors to the north are celebrating their day, today.

So, I wish our friends a hearty Happy Canada Day!

Canada Day celebrates the anniversary of the day when Nova Scotia and New Brunswick joined with the United Province of Canada (Ontario and Quebec) to form a single union. It is generally regarded as Canada's birthday.

Maybe some day I can do a deeper dive on this topic. Or share my own experiences from past visits to Canada (including two on Canada Day).

But, ostensibly, I've set aside Wednesday as sports day (or baseball day). So, how to combine the two topics - Baseball in Canada?

I've got a few ideas:

The Spreadsheet
First, we'll go to #CoachJeff's master spreadsheet listing all the baseball games I've attended. 
• I've seen the Toronto Blue Jays play an impressive 8 times (most of any A.L. club)
• Believe it or not, I also saw the Montreal Expos play twice (before they moved and became the Washington Nationals)

On Va Aux Expos
In 1996, we actually had the opportunity to travel to Montreal and see an Expos game on mine and Lisa's 10th anniversary.

Here are pics of me and two youngsters (Holly and Paul) inside Olympic Stadium in Montreal. And, outside Olympic Stadium, Holly strikes a pose. 

Canada Day in Toronto
When I kicked off my 30 Stadiums quest, we were in Toronto. We saw the Blue Jays play the Mets the day before Canada Day. 

Then, on Canada Day itself, a young Holly looks down on the action in Rogers Centre from high above in the CN Tower.

Interestingly, the Mets are in Toronto again this year and will play in the same Canada Day match-up later this afternoon.

I can imagine the Blue Jays in their Red Canada Day unies and a sea of red and white in the crowd. And, of course, tons of national pride as they sing the national anthem, O Canada.

Here's wishing our friends a special day.

 JG