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Goodbye My Friend

Goodbye My Friend

I have wanted to write a sort of epitaph for Max after he passed. It was easier to post videos and photos of our time together. They say a picture is worth a thousand words…and the words I wanted to say were hard to pull from me. For the story of Max begins with me…however, I won’t start from the beginning.

Almost six months have now passed, and that day will coincide with my 58th birthday. Today, in a little while from now, if I'm not feeling any less sour, I promised myself…to write this…in an effort to, make it clear to whoever wants to know what it's like when you're shattered…Naturally.

I’ll pick it up in my late 30’s to early 40’s. Several large-scale events took place. 

1) My parents passed away within three months of each other. As if that was not hard enough, there were no wills. Without going into details, I found myself in a fight for my parents’ house, a place I had called home since I was 8 years old.

2) After over 2 decades of being single, I got married…which my parents did not live to see (they probably would have died of shock hearing that news anyway).

3) I sold my co-op apartment where I had lived for 10 years. My wife to be and I bought a house, obviously a big financial step and responsibility. Perhaps more house than we needed, but we fell in love with the property.

4) After buying the house and getting married, I was being forced out of my job of 14 years. Christina had moved to Long Island based on my job location, one I thought I would always be at. This created an uncertain future for a new future that had hardly begun.

5) Since Christina moved to Long Island, she needed to find a new job. What seemed easy at first, became very stressful. Lucking she was able to find a job, albeit not one she had hoped for. I, on the other hand, now had to find a job for the first time in 14 years. A lot of late nights searching online for jobs, while still trying to hang onto the one I had. 

6) The job I found was in the city. The commute sucked and I was away from home a lot during the day. The VP who hired me left the company, and everything she planned for me left with her. Christina was not happy with her job also, but she kept it to herself.

7) Our combined income was now less with our new jobs, so while money isn’t everything…who am I kidding…it is. A tight budget didn’t help things.

Those first two years were the toughest. The future did not seem so bright.

But in 2007, fate must have woke her, 'Cause lady luck she was waiting outside the door. Christina’s position was not renewed, and her job search began again. She interviewed with the Director of Guidance at Lindenhurst. They immediately hit it off. She served as a mentor to Christina. After the Director retired, I told her that her faith in Christina changed everything in our life. From the house to our happiness…and to that fateful day in March of 2008 when Christina walked into the attendance office at the high school. She could have walked right passed that bulletin board, but something caught her eye. He would eventually capture our hearts. After two tough years, our lives would be lit up for the next 15. It was the right place, the right time. Fate. It was somethting we didn't know we were missing.

I have written about adopting Max, so I am not going to repeat it here. Previous Blog

As Max grew older, much older than I could have ever imagined…his younger days of being a “rambunctious” dog seemed to dissipate in my memory. Most of his younger days were captured by camera, not an iPhone which now is always readily available. I nicknamed him Crazy Dog…more of a description than a moniker. But we soon learned he was crazy like a fox...and knew how to push our buttons. When Max would do something he wasn’t supposed to do, he fully well knew it…and looked back at us like, what are you going to do about it? Yeah, he was actually tough to catch back then…I forget that now too. Because of these actions, we’d say he was a little stinker…and it was eventually shortened to just Stinky. That name would stick with him to the end.

In October of 2009, I took Christina to be a Trainer for a Day at the National Aviary in Pittsburgh (like to take a guess why we were in Pittsburgh?) At the end of the day, we spoke with one of the trainers. We mentioned our Stinky dog. He showed me a training tip, one that Max and I would eventually perfect and show off everywhere we went. I kidded it was Max’s safe word. He would come to me no matter what once I gave that command. It came in handy to retrieve him when he was being, well, a stinker. Max turned out to be very trainable. He loved showing off. He loved people’s reactions when he showed off. And yes, he loved the treats after he did so. Eventually you could speak in whole sentences, and he seemed to understand it all. He was my dog. That would change. He would be so much more.

As much of a stinker Max was, there was not a mean or angry part of his soul. Max had played with a friend’s dog when that dog was a pup. Max would pin him down playing since he outweighed him by quite a bit. While Max was playing, I think that dog built up a resentment. They continued to interact and eventually that dog grew to Max’s size. One day, what seemed like playing, soon was not…well, at least for the other dog. Even playing, Max was a powerful dog so one was not dominating the other. As we realized what was happening, they needed to be separated. I had always told Christina, never yell at Max if something like this happens. Because even though he was a stinker, he would listen. Well he listened, he stopped, the other dog got the upper hand. After they separated, it was decided to have them interact again to work things out. I deferred to the other owner since I was a relatively new dog daddy. As I tried to lead Max to the other dog, he slipped out of my grip and jumped off the deck to the far side…a spot that is not meant to nor had he ever gone off from before. I went around the other side to get him, and he had this look I will never forget…and it is even harder to describe. But I recognized it. When my Mom was dating after the divorce, we would often stay at the house of one of the guys she was with. His daughter was around my age and very nice. However, the neighbor had a son who was a few years older, who was not very nice…a bully. When I told my Mom and her boyfriend about the situation, instead of listening to me they decided to get us to play together. That didn’t work out well for me. I recognized that look on Max’s face, it was once on mine. As I sat down, Max came over to me and laid his head in my lap and gave that look up at me. I told him, I understand…and I will never let you down again.

He would never again have to interact with that dog. As an aside, I found a Lab group…which Max loved being a part of…and they loved having him.

It was during that same year I was getting frustrated with my job. The banks had collapsed so I was lucky at least to have one, but I was stuck. After a long day of work, and yet another horrible commute on the LIRR, I arrived home to just Max. I let him out of his cage and sat on the floor with him. I broke down. Now normally I do not let dogs lick my face, it seemed something in their saliva would give me a rash. This time I don’t think I had a choice. Max gave me a facewash, one that I had never gotten before. Some will say he just liked the salt in the tears. However, he kept pulling back to take a look at me…seemingly to see if he was helping, then continue…then pull back again. It was the first time I allowed him to lick my face…I also did not break out. It was the day Max told me he’d take care of me too.

We would become inseparable. He was the Hobbes to my Calvin. Often times Christina would ask where we were going, I would just respond, Spelunking! There are so many stories that follow, and way too many to tell here. I think we got along so well because we were the same. I described us as “Two assholes that eventually do the right thing”.

However, one story I will tell is with his interactions with other people. He just had a way. On one of Max’s adventures, we were taking the ferry as walk on passengers to the Islanders farm team in Bridgeport, it was Pucks and Paws Day. Christina ran into a coworker on the ferry, so I let them talk as I walked Max around for the hour plus trip. As we went to exit the ferry, Christina said to let everyone go before us since we have a dog. Almost to a person, everyone who passed us said Goodbye Max, Nice to meet you Max, Have a great time at the game Max. Christina turns to me, how is it that everyone knows my dog? I said Max took it upon himself to go and introduce himself to everyone on the ferry. I am sure he made their days a little brighter like he always did ours.

As Max got older, he eventually could no longer make it up the steps to sleep with us. Some nights I would just cuddle up on the floor and hold him. When he realized I was there, he would wag his tail, turn his head, and give me a kiss. I had no idea this would go on for another 4 years. When Covid hit, everyone was told to stay home. Max couldn’t have been happier. He would follow me around the house all day from beginning to end. I would have my coffee on the deck as Max laid by my side. Sipping my coffee with one hand, petting my pal with the other. He learned how to open the French doors to my home office. He could come and go as he pleased. That time at home was a gift. I didn’t think we could grow closer, but we did.

During that time Max developed a lump that turned out to be Cancer. He had surgery at 13 ½ years old. The week before I took him to all his old stomping grounds. I made him steak and eggs. I took his paw prints. It was Max Week, but I prepared for the worse. But Max was not ready to end his story there. He still had so much life to live. Even 2 years on chemo did not slow him down…but Father Time did. I always told Max I couldn’t handle life without him, that I was going to go first. I will say, he gave me ample time for that to happen. After the Cancer surgery I tried to spend as much time with Max as I could. I would be there for him, I would not let him down…I had made that promise years ago.

From 15 to 16 Max really began to slow down. I think I still tried to fool myself it wasn’t happening. October of 2022 was his last adventure out of the house. Right after Easter in 2023 I had a Max and Me day (like most days). The Yankees played in the afternoon and the Islanders played at night (I even turned down a ticket just to be with Max). We sat together under the Pavilion to watch both games. In the afternoon Max got Cinnamon Twists from Taco Bell and that night Ginger from the sushi place. It was two of his favorite treats. He made it outside, but walking was a challenge. It had been a while since he stopped his physical therapy. Every now and then, he’d have an actual hop in his step…and it always brought a smile to both our faces. Other times he struggled, and I would tap him in the butt with my foot and say, you stop walking…you die. A little harsh, but I knew the day he stopped walking it would be the end. That day would be April 18th, 2023.

That day I had scheduled for Fios to come and do an install for all our TV’s. I came down to put Arthur in his cage. I went over to Max and I knew something was up. He had not moved from where I left him the night before. I tried to coax him to get up. He didn’t even try. My world collapsed on me. I didn’t have time to cancel the install, so I went ahead with it. When the technician was done, he commented what a good boy my dog was, he didn’t move. That is when I lost it. Tears filled my eyes as I told the tech he could no longer move on his own, and this had just happened. The tech laid down on the floor and he began to pet Max. Max picked his head up to give him a kiss, to say thank you as he always did. It reminded me of the time on one of the Vineyard Walks. The Winemaker would get ahead of the group to get to the designated resting area to pour water in the bowls for the dogs. Max always liked to lead so he was the first one there. Max drank the water as the Winemaker was still filling the oversized dish. When Max was done, he turned to the Winemaker and gave him a kiss. A bit caught off guard the Winemaker had realized what had just happened and said, You’re welcome, Max. The Fios tech went on to tell Max to relax, not to strain himself as he continued to pet him. I let him stay as long as he liked. When he was done, I thanked him for taking the time to spend with Max. He said he had recently lost his own dog.

I set Max up in the kitchen so he can look out the sliding glass doors and he could see us more easily. As the days passed Father Time pushed hard. I came out of my office one morning and Max looked up at me. His eyes sunken, his lifeforce dwindling. Yet just outside the sun was glistening, the trees where in bloom, Spring and life was in the air. I used to say when asked what I did with Max that day, I’d say…we had joy we had fun, we had seasons in the sun. Today that song had a new meaning…as the verses, not the chorus, hit home. I put on the song and sang to Max as I had done a thousand times before. This time however, I was drowning in my tears.

Goodbye My Max, my little one

You gave me love and helped me find the sun

And every time that I was down

You would always come around

And get my feet back on the ground

Goodbye My Max, it's hard to die

When all the birds are singing in the sky

Now that the spring is in the air

With the flowers everywhere

I wish that we could both be there…

When Max stopped eating the vet said he had 24-48 hours. This is the death cycle. But just like Max would always do, he stuck around longer. I carried him outside so he could have fresh air. Christina and I ate outside and spent as much time as we could with him. I like to believe he knew we were there. On the Monday before his vet appointment, it was finally warm enough to give him a bath outside. He seemed happy to get cleaned. I could not be sure until I went to dry him off. Max always loved the leaf blower. I would use it on him one last time. He did something he had not done in a few days…he wagged his tail. He was still with us.

We had always worried we would not be around for Max at the end. As hard as it was, I would have had it no other way. Tuesday morning we awoke to Max struggling to breathe. We hoped we had not waited too long to go to the vet. I was able to give him some of his pain meds, and that seemed to relax his breathing. It was almost time to go, but we did not want to leave Max alone. Christina went up to shower first. I got my iPhone and pulled up Max’s song. I used to start signing it to him while he was asleep, by the end of the song he had me pinned down and was giving me a facewash. I knew this time would be different. I sang him his song, never wishing to hide the tears. When I was finished, Christina came down and it was her watch. When I returned, she told me Max had evacuated. Even though his heart still beat, I knew he was gone. I hoped he heard his song before he left us.

I hadn’t given it much thought on how to get him into the car. Seeing his ramp gave me the solution. The ramp he had used the last year to carry him into the house would carry him one last time. I placed it upon a dolly, and we carefully laid Max down. We rolled it to the car, it was the exact height of the seat so we slid him over into the back seat. Christina would ride in the back and hold Max. It reminded me of a time I had to rush Max to the emergency room. This time though the outcome was already prewritten.

We decided to take Max to the vet for what we needed to do. Both Christina and I did not want it done in our home. Never one to be subtle I said, so I am going to pay someone to come to my house, kill my dog and take away the evidence? No thanks. Plus, the vet was not just a vet. She was a friend. Max had gotten to know the staff, and they Max. He was one of the few dogs that liked going to the vet. We also had boarded him there when he was younger. He would come bolting in like he was crashing a party, yet he was the party and the staff knew it. This time his entrance would be more subdued.

When we arrived, I went into the office to get Cisco, our favorite vet tech. He saw me and I could not even speak. He asked if we needed his help, I was barely able to nod. He carried Max in, realizing he was only moments away. He laid Max down in the office and made him comfortable…but there were no signs of acknowledgement from Max. The vet came in and commented Max looked good, because in my communications with her I felt he physically deteriorated, and we waited too long. She assured me we didn’t, and it sounded like he did not suffer. She gave Max a sedative which was a formality at this point. After only half of the next needle, the vet checked for a heartbeat. Max was gone…and so was my heart.

I now sit outside in the morning having my coffee. I find my hand reaching down for something that is no longer there. Each day is empty, yet from the outside it looks so full. Each day I remain in an emotionless fog, fearful I will drown in any other option. The tears do come every day though, in a way I have never experienced before. 

Goodbye my friend.

The Russian Connection

My good friend Kermit and I decided to rewrite his song to keep with the political times. It’s called “The Russian Connection”…and it goes a little like this…

Why are there so many signs with the Russians and what's on the other side.
Russia, election, but not with collusion, and a Cabinet with nothing to hide?
So we’ve seen tweets and some choose to believe it.
I know they're wrong wait and see.

Someday we'll find it, the Russian connection.
The Donald, with Putin and pee.

Who said the Fake News should be watched and responded to when seen from a Fox and Friend’s star?
Our Pres he bought all of it, his followers believed him.
Truth now it seems oh so far.

What's so amazing that this isn’t fazing and what do we think this might be?

Someday we'll find it, the Russian connection.
The Donald, with Putin and pee.

All of us under his spell.
As President he has been tragic.

This nation’s been half asleep, we hear all the voices.
It keeps on saying Trump’s name.
Could it be WikiLeaks or that Dossier.
It might be one and the same.

We’ve heard it too many times to ignore it. It’s something that we need to see.

Someday we’ll find it, the Russian connection
The Donald, with Putin and pee.

Lie-da-da, de-da-da-do
Lie-lie-da-da-da-lie-da-do

Gimme Some Water

I get called lots of names. Liberal, Loser, Lush. From people who don’t know me, to friends, to family, to Facebook…even my wife. But one of the few things Christina never calls me, who is around me 24/7, is wrong.

AGAIN, since I need to say it over and over. I don’t have skin in this game…and I call it a game because that is what this has become. I just hope they don’t blow up the planet in the next 20-25 years and I’m good. I don’t have kids, I won’t have grandkids. I won’t have nieces or nephews. You Trump voters will. YOU have skin in the game…but you bow to a Reality TV star that has stretched the truth to get where he is. You are not even sure he’s a billionaire. But I digress. My point is he is dismantling everything that will protect your children and your children’s children. I am not sure why you are in such denial.

Let’s start with the environment. This is an easy one, all you have to do is go back to the 1970’s to see when big business ran unchecked. Long before #MAGA there was Keep America Beautiful. Remember the Indian in the commercial. Maybe next time it will be YOUR descendant questioning what happened. Somehow the post Baby Boomers seem to have forgotten the pollution that ran rampant. But here we are, ready to do it all again. Let’s look local for us New Yorkers. This summer I spent a lot of time on the Hudson River. Before cleanup, sewage, paper mill discharges, and other organic wastes fed bacteria, swelling their populations. Bacteria consumed the dissolved oxygen that the fish needed to breathe. Near Albany in summer of 1970, a study found so little dissolved oxygen that the few fish seen were "swimming slowly at the surface, gulping air, and a disturbing oil film which covered the water surface." The Clean Water Act (CWA) passed in 1977, THE ONE TRUMP IS REPEALING, is the primary federal law in the United States governing water pollution. Its objective is to restore and maintain the chemical, physical, and biological integrity of the nation's waters by preventing point and non-point pollution sources, providing assistance to publicly owned treatment works for the improvement of wastewater treatment, and maintaining the integrity of wetlands. It is one of the United States' first and most influential modern environmental laws.

In the years following the law's passage, polluters gradually came into compliance. The Hudson's color at Tarrytown once matched the paint applied to vehicles at the General Motors plant there. Now such scenes are unthinkable…amazing activity is everywhere. Waterfronts have popped up up and down the coast. And you forget that it was not so long ago that this was impossible. Between approximately 1947 and 1977, GE, another plant on the Hudson, released between 500,000 and 1,500,000 lbs of PCBs into the river. In 1983, the EPA…THE EPA WHICH TRUMP WANTS TO DISMANTLE… declared a 200-mile stretch of the river, from Hudson Falls to New York City, to be a Superfund site requiring cleanup. In 2001, after a ten-year study of PCB contamination in the Hudson River, the EPA…THE EPA… proposed a plan to clean up the river by dredging more than 100,000 pounds of PCBs… and GE had to pay about $460,000,000 for it…NOT THE MEXICANS. In 2014, the EPA …THE EPA…stated that "the incredible work" from The Clean Water Act helped make the Hudson River cleaner than it has been in decades. Go take a look for yourself.

This is just one example, in one state, of one natural recourse…water. I have not even touched on the air and the land. It's ironic that the man whose carbon footprint was labeled “Tyrannosaurus Rex”… looks like the only one who cares. But in reality, since I won't be around, I don’t.

But you should.

Will the USA go by the way of the USFL

"Mike, give Trump a chance...you see he's a great businessman, he'll get things done." You see, I already did that long ago…

It was 1982 and I was in High School. I was suffering through the NFL strike, which eliminated 7 weeks from the regular season. And yes, I was just as rabid a football fan back then…maybe even more so. I had football withdrawal. However when playing resumed, I sported my “I survived the NFL strike” T-shirt. But losing almost 2 months of football was not easy to digest. But alas, I would soon learn that a new football league would be starting in the spring of 1983. Also, football year round! I’m in! Even though I just learned about it, apparently it had been in the works since I was born! They knew…

The USFL was the brainchild of David Dixon who had been instrumental in bringing the New Orleans Saints to town. In 1965, he envisioned football as a possible spring and summer sport. Over the next 15 years, he studied the last two challengers to the NFL's dominance of pro football, the American Football League and the World Football League. In 1980, he commissioned a study by Frank Magid Associates that found promising results for a spring and summer football league. He'd also formed a blueprint for the prospective league's operations, which included early television exposure, heavy promotion in home markets, and owners willing to absorb years of losses, which he felt would be inevitable until the league found its feet. He also assembled a list of prospective franchises located in markets attractive to a potential television partner. With respected college and NFL coach John Ralston as the first employee, Dixon signed up 12 cities, nine where there already were NFL teams and three where there were not. The Dixon Plan called for teams in top TV markets to entice the networks into offering the league a TV deal. All but two of the 12 initial teams were located in the top 13 media markets in the US. After almost two years of preparation, Dixon formally announced the USFL's formation at the 21 Club in New York City on May 11, 1982, to begin play in 1983. ESPN president Chet Simmons was named the league's first commissioner in June 1982.

David Dixon took over 17 years of planning and preparation into this venture. Donald Trump would destroy it in two.

Before the USFL would start, our friends gathered round to pick a favorite team. I had liked Detroit a little from watching them on Thanksgiving…it was always root for the Lions and against the Cowboys. So when I saw there was a team in Michigan, I picked them. I didn’t even know what their mascot would be. Over the course of a few weeks I found out they would be the Panthers. Not bad, as a Steeler fan the local college was the Panthers. A good sign. Also, the USFL implemented a draft where teams had the first right to sign local college stars to help give the teams an identity. I thought this was brilliant, follow your home town college favorites into the league. Well, for the Panthers one of the colleges was Wisconsin, who at that time was one of my favorite NCAA football teams. But wait, there’s more. The Panthers, as other USFL teams did, raided some of the NFL teams for talent. The Panthers would sign 3 offensive linemen from the Steelers, including Ray Pinney and defensive end John Banaszak. It was shaping up pretty nicely.

The schedule soon arrived and the Panthers would open on Monday night, March 7, 1983. I had seen the logo in black and white, but did not know the exact colors. When the team took the field that night in their Royal Plum, Champagne Silver, Light Blue uniforms I was hooked! And there, my favorite player from Wisconsin, safety David Greenwood, stood in #31. It was a sloppy game but the Panthers prevailed 9-7. Spring football was here, and Mikey liked it. However, the Panthers would go on to lose the next 4 games to go 1-4, but I did not abandon them. Finally in a rain soaked game at the Meadowlands, against the New Jersey Generals, they turned it all around. It would start a 13-2 run that would end up culminating with a win in the first ever USFL Championship game. The New Jersey General’s, who started their dominance, would ironically be a part of their demise. You see, in September 1983, the New Jersey Generals were sold to real estate magnate Donald Trump.

Trump had always envisioned owning an NFL team. However, you need to be voted on by the existing NFL owners to own such a prestigious franchise. And they would have none of him. Thwarted, he saw an opening…and the chickens let the fox into the henhouse. The USFL owners who were competing dollar for dollar with NFL team's players felt Trump’s money would give them the edge they needed. He signed big name players and boasted he would have the team to beat. His team however would fail to win even one playoff game. But putting a winner on the field was not his motive…and the USFL owners would soon find that out. He started pushing his fellow owners to move the league's games to the fall and go head-to-head with the NFL. "If God wanted football in the spring," Trump once said, "he wouldn't have created baseball." He ignored years of research by David Dixon. The Donald said he knew better…where have we heard this before. Instead of continuing spring football, Trump had hoped to compete head to head with the NFL. His ultimate goal was not to save the fledgling league, but that the NFL would absorb a team or two, more specifically HIS team into the NFL. He would then have his wish of owning an NFL team realized. In his usual con-man antics, he was able to convince the owners this was the right thing to do.  In preparation for the move, they had to realign the teams that could not play fall football in certain NFL cities. One of those teams was the Michigan Panthers. After the 1984 season, with only 2 years of their existence, the Panthers folded as per Trump’s marching orders. They would combine with the Oakland Invaders, but they had lost this fan forever. My team, my spring football taken away...by a spoiled rich kid who wanted to play with the big boys. And how did that go? Well after the league's third season, they announced a fall schedule in 1986. The USFL would never play another game.

Trump tried to force the NFL owners hand. But they were not falling for it. Trump took them to court…where technically he did win. But what did the judge award him? Millions? The right for the USFL to play in the fall? Maybe even that the NFL had to absorb his team? No, this man you elected to run our Country, this failed businessman...if we could see his taxes, was awarded $1. But wait…good news, he was due triple indemnity…so he actually got the USFL three dollars. Trump's ego took a man’s lifelong dream, a fan base watching spring football and a kid’s passion…and threw it away for his own selfish reasons. The NFL owners recognized long ago he did not belong running a franchise.

Too bad America didn’t see the same thing. 

It's Not Always Sunny in Philadelphia

As a Steeler fan, or maybe for all football fans for that matter, the start of the season means your team has a chance. Wait ‘til next year is now THIS year. We may even look back at rituals we performed during successful seasons to emulate them and allow for another run at a championship.

In 2008, every Sunday I cooked something that was Black and Gold…and we brought home the Lombardi. This year I’ve decided the food spin would be the local flavor of the opposing team’s town. Last week it was Cincinnati Chili. It was devoured like A.J. Green was in the Steelers secondary. This week, well Philly, will be an easy one. Cheesesteaks anyone? In some cases I will prepare the fare myself. But in this instance I went straight to the source. Jim’s of South St. was my first foray into the siren call of the steaks…so this would be the place. The advent of shipping local favorites to far off places has even come to this little establishment. I will be ready with my foe’s food. We can’t lose.

Oh wait! What’s this. The talking heads on the NFL Network said the Steelers have not won in Philly since 1965. That would mean they are 0 and my lifetime in the city of brotherly love. But how could that be? I went to college in the liberty town…how did I not know this. I did attend a Steeler victory over the Birds in 1994 at Three Rivers in Pittsburgh and a Steeler loss at Veteran’s Stadium in 1997…but to have not won at any stadium in Philly while I’ve been a sentient being? It was time to do a little googling. They were right. The Steelers had not won in Philadelphia since October 24, 1965. Now, the only solace is that the Steelers did not seem to play the Eagles in Philly a whole lot over the last 50 years. In a twist of NFL scheduling it only totals 8 games. You would have to go back to the 9th game to their last victory. The day was won for the Steelers with big plays from Bradshaw. Wait, not that Bradshaw, he did not win in Philly either. This was JIM Bradshaw who led the defense with 3 interceptions returning one for a touchdown. This was at least one Bradshaw ago. Terry Bradshaw though did get one, and only one, crack at bringing home a W along the Pennsylvania Turnpike. The Eagles were an upcoming team with the likes of Ron Jaworksi and Wilbert Montgomery. The Steelers came in undefeated and the current Superbowl champs. The Eagles would walk away with a victory making a statement to the NFL. The following year the Eagles would be in the Superbowl.

It would be another 12 years, in 1991, before the Steelers would head to the eastern part of the state. I remember it well. It was the 4^th game of the season and my friends who were still attending Drexel did not return to campus until late September. The college started later than most due to its quarterly academic schedule. It would be too much of a challenge to plan a trip down. However at that time, I would watch all the Steeler games at Mulcahey’s pub. And on this first Sunday of fall, summer hung on with all its might. The bar put the game on at the outside bar, which was never open for football. But the abundant sunshine allowed for us Sunday dark cave dwellers out into the daylight. This had to be a good omen. Terry Bradshaw was a distant memory and the QB now was Bubby Brister. A brash upstart, he took the Steelers on a magical ride in the 1989 playoffs. Now, two years latter there was an excitement again with this team. The Steelers were 2-1 and got off to a great start in the first half of the game. Then the game, and the season fell apart. Brister threw three second half interceptions and the Eagles took the lead…which they would never relinquish. Tensions grew between Brister and his All Pro TE Eric Green. The Steelers would go on to lose 7 of their next 10 games. Brister would eventually be benched effectively ending his career in Pittsburgh.

1997 the schedule makers would have the Steelers pack their bags for Philly once again. This time I was going too. The Eagles were coming off a 10-6 season in 1996 where they had finished first in the division.  The fans were full of hope that 1997 would be THEIR year to win it all.  A slow start and a losing record created unrest among the fans.  An already unruly crowd turned worse.  Alcohol was banned after half time…that didn’t work.  Security was enhanced…no impact.  The city of Philadelphia needed a radical idea to turn the tide of trouble.  Their idea was to deal with the perpetrators with swift and immediate justice.  They would install a sanctioned courtroom right on the premises.  They chose Nov 23, 1997 to implement it.  It would be the same game against the Steelers I would be going to. The Steelers came in as big favorites. They were 8-3 and among the best in the AFC. After the bad beginning the Eagles began to steady the ship. A second year QB from Ohio State would be getting his second start. He was fresh off leading the Eagles to a tie game in the waning moments against Baltimore. There was an excitement in the stands as this would be Bobby Hoying’s first home game. This time it would be Kordell Stewart throwing three interceptions and the Eagles jumped out to a 20-6 lead. The Steelers would never recover. However, this year the Steelers would make it to the AFC Championship game. Unfortunately the Steelers would lose, as Stewart would throw three interceptions in that contest too.

2008 would be the next, and last time the Steelers would be in Philly. But this time it would be at the new stadium, The Linc, Lincoln Financial Stadium. I decided not to attend, as now I was out further east on the Island. I was now married and a bit of a homebody. I had the NFL package and Max, why would I need anything more. I considered going as it was said the crowd at the new stadium was more subdued than their counterparts from a raucous Vet Stadium. However, the Eagles play on the field brought the crowd to life. Ben Roethlisberger led this incarnation of the Steeler team. Much like Bradshaw in 1979, he came into the game having a Supebowl under his belt. The Steelers were among the elite in the AFC, but this time so were the Eagles. It was no contest. The Eagles treated Ben like he said something bad about their mother. Ben was sacked 8 times and hit numerous more. He was eventually pulled from the game to protect him from getting hurt. It was said recently by Ben that he contemplated retirement after this game. I couldn’t blame him. Eventually the Steelers would put this travisty behind them. Ben would go on to win the Superbowl that year with a last second TD pass. On the victorious podium, Ben held the Lomardi high and said, “Who’s laughing now O-Line!” I can only imagine he was thinking back to the Eagles game.

Now it is 2016 and it is the Steelers 9^th try in my lifetime to win in Philadelphia. While the last two losses have developed into successful seasons for the Black and Gold, this time I’d prefer they come out with a victory.

It will make my Cheesesteak taste all the better…

Do You Remember...

Ask Walsh, he remembers everything. This is not an uncommon line I hear no matter what group of friends I may be with. Even at a young age I seemed to always remember. Good or bad. A friend of mine says we remember what we choose to remember. Well, I choose to remember everything.

As you may have seen in my blogs, my memory is vivid in detail going back to as far as I can…well, remember. Scientists say people are left brained or right brained depending on how they process their thoughts. I sometimes feel I have both sides working. Now, unfortunately this does not translate into being more intelligent. It is more like one side of my brain allows me to function on a daily basis…while the other side has a projector constantly showing old home movies. If I need to go back and remember, I just pop a reel on and off I go back in time. In my blogs, you can see that something in my day triggers the trip. However, now I am only visiting. When I was younger I tended to dwell in it. The previous grass always seemed greener. While I’ve heard the reality of the past would never match my sweet imagination, that everything looks worse in black and white, I don’t sugar coat the experiences. I had to learn to look at, and not yearn for, the past. And once I did that why not look back? We each have become a sum of our own experiences whether we remember them or not.

Now, while I seem to have the innate ability to remember, don’t think I’m able to put it to efficient use. It has not allowed me to avoid making similar mistakes over the course of my life. I am who I am. I can look back and see how things happened and why…and most likely why they will happen again. When I was younger I would ponder “what if” I did this, or reacted “this way”…what if I only… But as I once said, you can only make a decision based on the information available to you at the time. Looking back, you now already know the outcome, which obviously is more than you would have known…so how could you ever have done something differently. It’s like a coin toss already knowing which side will come up. And if you did somehow change what you would have done, and alter the outcome…then what? I am a big believer in the ripple or butterfly effect. That one change would change everything. You can’t alter one event and think that everything else will play out the same…or how you think it would have once you changed your path. You can never predict how this new course you are on would have taken you.

So it is easy for me to remember, because I am always remembering. I am doing it right now. It is rare I will forget something, but every now and then my memory will be jarred. Off to the tape room to find that reel…which I know is in there somewhere. Christina will catch me drifting off sometimes and ask me what I’m thinking about. She can easily see the changes of expression on my face…even though I am unaware. Due to my vivid memories I not only remember and visualize it, but I feel the emotions too. It is almost like my own make shift time machine. And once I go, I embrace it…good or bad. Jubilation, anticipation…sorrow. We watch movies that draw on our emotions…why not our own memories. We had to live through it. Of course I hear the inevitable “do you really want to relive that?” Yes, yes I do…all of it…and while I still can. As I said, our memories are who we are. And not being a believer in the after life, they will eventually cease to exist. Why not get the most out of them now. Life is too short, and I find comfort in taking time to look back. How many times do we watch reruns of our favorite TV shows? They evoke the same feelings we had when we first viewed them. My reruns are just a little more personal.

I’m not going to wait for my life to flash before my eyes.

I’m going to sit back and enjoy the show now…