Roadtrippin’ with the brothers

The last time I went to Nashville, the trip was pretty much the worst trip experience that I’ve ever had.

Plenty of bickering, stupid pranks, and oh yeah, two Ray Nagin-like tirades by myself and my then-boss.

And the tag that I used about my department as the joke of the corner of North Manassas and Chelsea Avenue was all so true when I returned to Memphis the very next day.

A year later, I would end up going with my church to Nashville, a trip that a friend said to me when I told him about the Music City Meltdown, was a complete 180 from the trip I went on last year.

Which it was.

I had took notes of what happened during the three days that I’ve been away from the computer and this blog, which had 49 hits on Saturday and 24 on Sunday.

Friday, Oct. 27th: I left with my friend James at 5 o’clock from my house to head to another church member’s house in Cordova, where we would leave from there to head to Nashville.

Before I left, I made sure that I remembered Kasi’s number so when I entered Davidson County, I would call her and let her know that I was okay (more on that later).

While we were waiting on another brother in the church to arrive, James and I went to Backyard Burger on Trinty Road, down the road from Tom’s house and got something to eat.

The interesting thing about the trip to Backyard Burger was that I had to repeat to an attractive girl my order because I figured that she was more interested in looking at me than she was in taking my order.

Which gave me that bitter beer look on my face and silence from James.

We returned to Tom’s house and James was unsure about speaking at the church convention in Nashville when I explained to him that faith is measured as a 12 oz. can of Coke.

Fifteen minutes later, another member of my church, Brandon came to the house and offered me one of his books to read while we were headed to Nashville.

Around 6:30, Thomas (the guy we were waiting on) came to the house, which allowed us to start putting things in Tom’s car and start for the road.

Before we headed on Interstate 40, Thomas thought it would be a good idea to stop at a McDonald’s on Germantown Parkway to grab a bite, but traffic was a mess at the drive-thru, so instead we got on the road in the middle of a southern tsuamni and headed east on Interstate 40.

Most of the ride, Tom was educating me on U2 and Sting and trying to convince James that Puff Daddy was not the one that did “Every Breath You Take”.

And it gave me time to read that book Brandon let me borrow.

We stopped in Parkers Crossroads, which is in Henderson County, and Thomas got the opportunity to grab some McDonald’s while we stopped at a gas station there.

That’s when Tom found the time to hook his navigation system to his dashboard when he got behind the wheel.

Once we entered Williamson County, I tried to remember Kasi’s number and instead of writing it down like I should have, I ended up dialing the wrong digits and having a deep think session on trying to remember her number.

When we dropped Thomas and James off at one of the host families’ houses, the rain was coming down even harder as we got back on the interstate and headed towards Goodlettsville, which was (when I was growing up) the home of Oscar Mayer and the city we would be staying in with a host family.

Once we got into Goodlettsville, Tom decides to stop at a Wendy’s and I decide to use the bathroom, which turned into an adventure because the dining room at Wendy’s and KFC were closed and the hotel next to Wendy’s had no bathroom that was open to the public, so the next best thing was to head to a McDonalds and try not to get any mud on my shoes.

Tom and I arrived at our host family’s apartment around 10 o’clock, which is when I started to again brainstorm and think of Kasi’s number so I could call her and let her know that I was okay.

Which turned into me calling pretty much all of the names that had her last name in the Nashville White Pages and calling the same number that I thought was the number she gave me five times.

And the same message from the person that I called, that I had the wrong number.

Before we all went to sleep, Tom figured that it was a good idea to watch Bill O’Reily’s interview on the David Letterman Show.

And me being a Democrat and a strong opponent of everything that O’Reily says, I figured that hearing a load of hogwash from some idiot conservative was not the way I wanted to end my day.

Saturday Oct. 28th:I woke up early to go outside and meditate as well as look out at the vi the city of Goodlettsville from our host family’s apartment.

As I returned back to the apartment, I ended up stubbing my toe after racing up a flight of stairs and grabbing my jacket and grimacing in pain.

I had calle my mother to let her know that I was okay and explained to her that the city I was in was once the home of the Oscar Mayer factory, a factory you could see off Interstate 65 when I was a kid.

Tom and I then headed out on Interstate 65 towards the Convention Center, where the conference was going to be.

We ended up getting off on the wrong exit and then getting back on Interstate 40 towards Downtown Nashville and got off at the right exit.

During the trip there, Tom (who once lived in Nashville) questioned me on everything baseball and I questioned him on everything rock (he thinks that Led Zepplin is the greatest metal band of all time).

When we walked into the ballroom that the conference’s events were being held in, the place had the feel of those church services I remembered as a kid.

I sat in the middle of large ballroom and rubbed shoulders with the brothers and sisters from the other churches around the region.

Midway through Ed Anton’s message, I figured that it would be a good idea to grab the morning paper and get some snacks and a pen to take notes on the packet that they gave us before we went into the ballroom.

So I went out Commerce Street and headed north on Opry Place to Broadway, which is where the Nashville Arena is located.

I went to a gift shop and bought a few Snickers and a Nestle Crunch, plus a Starbucks Fracuppcino (I don’t think I spelled that right) and looked at their line of guitars and fedora hats (they didn’t have any in stock).

I raced back down Broadway and went to the paper vending machine and got that morning’s Tennesseean and went back inside the Convention Center.

For lunch, Tom, another fellow church member, and I went with other brothers and sisters in the churches in Huntsville and Louisville to Demo’s, which from what I experienced, the best deal for a steak in Nashville (you only pay 14.95 for a 10 oz. steak).

While I was waiting on my food, I had thought I had spotted Kasi at the table near where we were sitting at.

Of course, I wasn’t about to take that risk of going over there and saying out loud in an already crowded place that it was indeed Kasi.

Which it wasn’t.

Chandler was updating me and Tom on the Ole Miss-Auburn game, thanks in part to the wonders of cell phone web browsers.

Before I began eating my scalloped shrimp, I found out that the guy who was sitting across from me was born a scant six months after Peanuts debuted in 1950.

Even his name was Charlie Brown.

When I was almost finished eating my shrimp, I thought it was a good idea to pull off the Auburn fleece that I had on.

Come to find out, the fleece was filled with so much lint, you would have thought that the people who made those fleeces stole it from a sheep in east Alabama.

Feeling ashamed, I covered my face up with my shirt and went into the bathroom to redeem myself and my hair.

James had to share news for our church, so knowing that he’s a bit unsure about speaking, I explained to him the same thing I said to him before we left for Nashville that Kevin put 12 ounces of faith in him, so that’s why he picked him to do it instead of somebody else.

I said, “Act like there’s no one out there and don’t worry about how it comes out.”

And he did an excellent job of sharing the news that we had in our church.

After we finished the third session of the day, I went around and introduced myself to a bunch of people from the churches around the region.

I went up to one, a very attractive girl from Nashville, and said that Tom and his band of brothers found me under a bridge and beat me senseless with a Bible and dragged me kicking and screaming to Nashville.

Of course, she didn’t buy into that.

When we in Memphis, Tom had told us to get him a low-carb burger from Backyard Burger.

Get to Music City, the guy becomes me on my good day, eating at every fast food place in the city of Goodlettsville.

We went to Dave and Buster’s, which is similar to Jillian’s at Peabody Place.

And similar to when I lost to the Black Widow in Memphis, I lost again to another female pool shark, who was beating me very soundly at first.

And being the ultra-competive person that I am, I was pretty bummed out that I lost on the last ball.

Away from that, I ended up winning 287 coupons by pretty much running amok on the arcade area of the place.

After we left, Tom decides again to eat at another fast-food place and then we talked about various things while we were on our way back to Dan’s house.

Sunday Oct. 29th: Nashville to me has always been a city of mystery and surprises, and in the back of my mind, I was hoping that Kasi would just pop up out of nowhere and we exchange hugs like what you see in those movies.

But that wasn’t the case.

At the Convention Center, we first attended classes that were taught by that weekend’s speakers, Ed and Debby Anton.

Then it was on to the ballroom, where we had an abundance of singing and praise as well as a powerful message from Ed Anton, who wrote a book on repentance and a book that Tom  and James were discussing during our trip up Interstate 40.

The girl that I told that story to about being found under a bridge and getting beat with a Bible and dragged kicking and screaming to Nashville and I exchanged email addresses, which was a small consolation for me forgetting Kasi’s number.

Before we got on the road, we ate at a Mexican resturant in the West End and oddly enough, the place was across from Vanderbilt University, which is where she attends.

A couple of guys I talked to weren’t even aware that you could get free coffee if those sucko Titans won on Monday.

Which they did.

After we finished eating, we got on the road and headed towards Memphis.

When were in Williamson County, we stopped at a gas station and the bathroom that I used had a coin-operating condom machine.

That actually works.

For 160 or so miles, I was struggling to keep my bladder under control, which was the other big story this weekend.

So by the time we got to Stanton, which is a city that I know too well because of my grandmother’s friend’s church, we stopped at this rinky-dink truck stop that looked like one of those truck stops you see in movies, both James and myself answered the call of nature.

And got back on the road.

We arrived in Memphis just as the sun came down, which was a very beautiful sunset over the interstate as we exited onto Germantown Parkway.

When I arrived home, the first thing I did was call Kasi and tell her what happened.

And to my surprise, she was concerned about me when I was there.

Interesting.

Thank you, Kasi, thank you

Over a year ago, I began talking to my friend Kasi, who is the girl that I’ve mentioned in my columns throughout the playoffs.

Of course, I’m not trying to give you a Sleepless in Seattle story, but the way that I’m writing this column, it seems like it is one of those stories.
Last year, I had written a column about the summer of 2005,the summer of D-Lee and Kasi, right during the time that the Cardinals were running away with the National League Central and I was starting as an announcer for the Redbirds and also writing a column about humorous observations that I saw when I was with my friends or anywhere in the city.

But between that, I started inputting my knowledge of baseball whenever I talked to her, talking about St. Louis, Jack Buck, and my beloved Cardinals.

Unlike this postseason, the way it was at this time last year was not the way it is now.

I was looking forward to hanging out with her (as I stated in my post on October 21st) when I went to Nashville with my job for a service project  last October, when I believed that our friendship, was for the most part, peachy keechy.

Unfortunately, a day after Mr. Pujols hits a homer that sucked the life out of the city of Houston, the Astros would win the pennant and the day after that, the crap would hit the fan.

Apparently, the end of 2005 left me on the verge of losing a friend because of my selfish ways and leaving a very bad taste in my mouth.

Reset.

In March, we started back talking over instant messaging and of course, I explained my actions before and put it behind me.

Of course, she and I myself knew that I was going to revert to talking about baseball once the Cardinals’ season began in April.

But for the most part, that did not happen.

Until the Cardinals got into League Championship Series, I tried to keep away from talking about the Cardinals and Jack Buck and all things St. Louis.

That’s when I fell off the wagon of doing that when the Cardinals were on the verge of winning the pennant.

Three nights before they won, I told her that our friendship is more important than a silly baseball game.

If the Cardinals lose a game, does Albert Pujols or Scott Rolen start thinking about jumping off the old Eads Bridge or the Gateway Arch?

No.

Of course, given from what she knew from last year, she knew that I lived and died with the Cardinals.

The night that the Cardinals won the pennant, I made a promise to her that the Cardinals would win the pennant just for her.

Which in fact did happen.

During Game 4 on last Thursday, I had kept tabs on the score and would report it to her.

At one point in the game, the Cardinals were trailing 3-2 to the Tigers when all of a sudden she was telling me that she was going to rub her belly to get them the lead.

And for some reason, that worked.

The Cardinals got two runs in the bottom of the seventh to take the lead.

Then the Tigers got a run to tie the game in the top of the eighth inning, which was when I told her the score again.

And the cue to start belly rubbin’.

Bottom of the eighth inning, the Cardinals took the lead for good and won Game 4 thanks in part to David Eckstein’s double off Craig Monroe’s glove.

Which set the tone for Friday.

For the first time in 24 years and in my lifetime, the St. Louis Cardinals are World Champions.

And the best thing about seeing that happen was that I was able to share it with a person that I care about.

And the only person that has patience with me during the baseball season.

I know personally this isn’t my best work because I have been away from my computer for three days, but what the point that I’m trying to make is that I’ve enjoyed sharing my wisdom about baseball with her, even though she still probably won’t understand it.

And most importantly, the month of October.

Again, thank you, Kasi.

Thank you.

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse………….

I had a sit-down meeting with a couple of members of Da Crew at my house on yesterday afternoon as a light drizzle came down over Memphis about yet another fiasco that is threatening to rip Da Crew apart at the seams.

This time, instead of someone spreading rumors on campus, it turns out that the rumors that I have heard in my visits to the corner of South Manassas and Union Avenue are coming from someone that I once called crazy as a bat during the fall of 2005.

When I met with someone last week in the Doc Hancock Center for Crew Affairs, I was hearing some things about some of the members of Da Crew that at first seemed to be true, given the fact that since the collapse of what happened with me and that girl from the bookstore, the last seven or so months has been nothing but a horrible soap opera being played in real life.

When the mess with Vanilla happened in March and died down, everybody thought that the aftermath would be temporary.

Not so.

There’s been division among the members of Da Crew, a question of who is actually in charge and even the group’s history, which I personally could elaborate on because I was one of the founding members of it in the summer of 2004 and agreed to the merger of Da Group into one entity, Da Crew in October of 2005.

The thing is now, what else is about to happen at the corner of South Manassas and Union Avenue before the fall semester is out?

Belly rubbin’ to victory

Had Wednesday’s rainout not happened and the Cardinals won on Wednesday, I would probably be writing about an improbable World Series championship for the Birds on a Bat today.

But thanks to Mother Nature, I’m not doing that today.

Instead of traveling back to Detroit for Game 6, the Cardinals (which played five games in five days) will go for their first World Series title since 1982 tonight in St. Louis, which was where they clinched their 9th World Series title with Bruce Sutter striking out Gorman Thomas to win the World Series.

And the first World Series championship that I’ve seen in my lifetime.

The funny thing about this, is that last night I was talking to my friend Kasi (who I believe is the only friend that I know that can deal with me during baseball season) and the Cardinals were trailing the Tigers in the bottom of the seventh inning when she said to me that she was going to start belly rubbing in order to possibly get the Cardinals the lead.

Which actually worked because the Cardinals would tie the game at 3 in the bottom of the seventh and actually would take the lead to make the score 4-3.

In the top of the eighth, Brandon Inge hits a double that scores Pudge Rodriguez to tie the game again at 4.

That’s when I sent Kasi another message about the score in St. Louis.

She responded by saying it was time for her to start rubbin’ again when the Cardinals came to the plate in the bottom of the eighth inning.

At first when David Eckstein hit what is normally a routine fly ball, I figured that Craig Monroe would make yet another amazing catch in the outfield to save the Cardinals a run in the bottom of the eighth, but he would have to react fast in order to make the catch.

Given the fact that I once played in the outfield when I played baseball, the first thing I learned was that you have to be alert at all times when a pop fly comes your way.

That’s when Monroe let the ball get away from him and allowed the Cardinals to take the lead and later on, the victory.

I sent Kasi a message after the game was over and told her that her belly rubbin’ ritual seemed to work out in the Cardinals’ favor in Game 4.

And put the Cardinals one win away from stomping the so-called Curse of the Aquarius Girl into the ground.

Or Keith Hernadez.

Which ever you prefer.

Everything’s a go

Game 4 is on folks.

That’s all I have to say for now.

You can’t go at it alone

Most of the time, I don’t normally write that much about my life or anything that pertains to religion, because this is supposed to be a blog based soley on sports, not a narrative of my life.

But after last night, I figured I should say something about this in this blog.

I attended the weekly Wednesday night Bible Talk out in Countrywood at another church member’s house and in the talk, we talked about building relations with our fellow brothers in the church and most importantly, having good counsel.

The example that Kevin showed us in the talk was about a compulsive gambler that had his life threatened by a loan shark because he owed a lot of debts.

Bad thing is, that the loan shark came to the hospital where his [the compulsive gambler's] wife was giving birth and gave the gun-to-the-head signal about his money.

So in a last ditch effort, the guy goes to a casino and according to Kevin, the tape that the casino showed him (the guy) alone at the Blackjack table for 20 hours.

At one point, the guy won 9 million dollars, which is pretty much enough money to pay off any debts, big or small.

But with just himself at the table, it seemed that he had no other choice but to keep going.

In other words, he was in the zone.

But from what Kevin said in our talk last night, the guy slowly began to lose chips at the table until he had nothing left.

The point that he was making, was that in life, we can’t go at everything alone.

If I won 9 million dollars at a Blackjack table, I would want someone to tap me on my shoulder and convince me to cash in those chips and walk out of the door.

Or slap me upside my head.

After we finished the Bible Talk, we used the rest of the time for fellowship, which I used wisely to talk with a few guys.

Most importantly, I explained to my friend Tom that I had to realize that you can’t go at everything alone in life, especially when you’re trying to walk in the same path as Jesus did when He was on earth.

I look at my mother and how standoffish she is towards people, which in some cases is a good thing, but sometimes you have to think things through and get good counsel on things.

One other example of good counsel was when I said to both Sharika and Michelle the week before the cutest moment in the history of Memphis professional baseball that there’s no way I’m going to pull off what I would later do on the Fourth of July.

And Michelle had this to say to me.

“How can you let what happened in high school dictate what happens now?”

And look how the summer ended.

Everyone in this life cannot tackle on the world by themselves.

It doesn’t matter how strong you are physically or even mentally, how many degrees you possess, or the color of your skin, you’e going to need somebody in your life before you leave this good world to give you advice.

Or help you become close to God.

Or whatever.

Readers, if you have a friend or a group of friends that you go to for advice or good counsel, call that person after you read this.

Damn, another rainout

Game 4 was rained out tonight in St. Louis (no surprise, it was raining here in Memphis) so the Cardinals and the Tigers will go at it tomorrow night in St. Louis.

The weather will hopefully cooperate and Kasi continue to get her education on all things Cardinals, which I am doing now over instant messaging.

Another new writing opportunity

I will be writing some articles for Fumbled.org during the remaining part of the college football season starting this week with my top 25.

Check it out, they’ll be added to the blogroll, so when you come by, you can click to the link on the blogroll and it will take you to the website.

Sleepless in Memphis and holy rollers

I had spent much of the night thinking how I was going to write this column when I woke up this morning as another year older (I am 22 years old now).

When the week started, I knew that two things were going to happen.

The Cardinals were going to win the World Series and I was going to hang out with my friend Kasi when I went to Nashville with my (pause for dramatic effect) church this weekend.

The stars were supposed to be aligned for this.

A double shot of happiness in one week.

Well, triple shot, because my birthday is today.

But then she (as well as I) realized that the people in my church are going to do everything in their power to block me from her or even worse, pry out things that I figured she would feel uncomfortable talking about.

Late last night after Game 3 was finished and in the books, I had talked with Kasi at length about this weekend and what the plans were.

That’s when the crap hit the fan.

I can agree with her, the people in that church are nosey.

Wait a minute, most church folks are nosey.

That’s why they have those sick and shut in lists in many of the African-American churches.

So they can call you and ask about how you’ve been doing and worry you to death.

But back to the conversation, Kasi explained to me that the idea of hanging out with her while I was in town with my church would not be a good idea.

Of course, I don’t disagree with that because some of the people in that church have these oddball thoughts of people that are not part of their congregation.

The only consolation after I spent much of my time on the computer playing Home Run Derby and thinking of ways to get around the church and maybe seeing her, was that in whatever down time I had, we could talk to each other on the phone.

Sounds good.

Of course, the attitude that I have now is much different from what it was last year at this time.

We [Kasi and I] weren’t even on speaking terms after I returned from Music City after the infamous Music City Meltdown.

Comedy of errors

After seeing what has gone on tonight in Game 2 so far, it doesn’t seem like a good idea to start a pitcher that hasn’t pitched in 13 days.

Joe Buck made a note of this a few minutes ago, that Chris Carpenter’s pitch count is very low, so more than likely he’ll be on the mound to get the win and the complete game for the Cardinals, something that didn’t happen in Game 1 with Anthony Reyes.

Cardinals 4 Tigers 0 (bottom 7th)