New Wuff Cage Coach – Mark Gottfried – faces the same unique dilemma his two predecessors did. He could be the third best college basketball coach on the planet and be only the 3rd best in his own cul-de-sac. How frustrating must that be? I think I know. …..
And an INCREDIBLE RIMSHOTS looks at College Football 2011 at the half-way point.
The Gottfried Dilemma (a Ludlumesque book title?) is no big secret. It’s not like The Two Blue Messiahs aka Roy & Mike hide from anyone, or that their twin litanys of accomplishments are tucked under any bushels out-of-sight. Not hardly. Roy and Mike’s respective retinues of disciples bask endlessly in their reflective glories. Both multi-ringed mentors have however rounded Turn Four and “….. down the stretch they come”. Mark Gottfried COULD one day, even within five years, be the senior sage of Triangle basketball. …… Alas, my own future is not so bright.
Yea verily. I must accept the reality that being the 3rd most celebrated wordsmith within my own family is as acclaimed as I shall ever be.
A bit like Hiram Wallberg, Mark & Donnie’s other brother, who is in charge of Outs in The Green Monster Scoreboard. Who cares? ….. or Cathy Kardashian who refusing to spell Cathy with a K was exiled to being a clerk at the Avis desk at Burbank Municipal Airport. Being “the only Kardashian saving herself for Mr Right” is little consolation.
In a universe overflowing with adroit wordsmiths, to be #3 ain’t so bad really. Bear Bryant can’t ever catch Joe Paterno or Bobby Bowden but houndstooth hats still sell well in Tuscaloosa Targets.
Whozits like Calhoun, Boeheim and others are within the awesome shadow of The Dean’s 879, but no one is suggesting striking the Esteemed One’s name from his own Dome.
Will there come a day that a youngster asks his dad “Dad, why did Carolina name it’s basketball arena after the 14th winningest coach in college basketball history?” HOLY SMOKES! Just typing THAT caused my fingers to gnarl up like Gabby Harnett’s.
Must our only goal be to be THE Best Of All There Is or simply THE Best That We Can Be? For yours truly that choice is simple. I am simply grateful that Annabelle The Family Cat can’t type. Or, at least, she hasn’t indicated any desire to do so in her 11 years. Cats being notoriously persnickety about what they wish to do. If she does choose to, I might drop to #4 under our roof.
Kid doesn’t technically live here any more. I could claim I’m #2 but few would buy that. A bit like Coach Gottfried claiming he is #3 on the planet. Yea Mark, whatever you say Coach.
Kid has been gaining on dear ol’ Dad for a while now but in the relative obscurity of a specific demographic Galaxy far far away from BabyBoomerWorld where moi has been lauded and loathed for a decade plus. Kid has earned her writing bones in the sub-30 world where Murray Slaughter and Lumpy Rutherford and Mickey Mantle and polyester leisure suits are unknown and unmentioned.
Three years ago she outlined her plan of attack on Life – aka “Look out World, Here Comes BobLee & Blondie’s Kid”. I compared it to Mary Richards (ne “Tyler Moore”) gleefully flinging a beret into the Minneapolis sky. The look of total bewilderment she gave me was even more chilling to my core than when she exiled her beanie babies and My Little Ponies to the attic. At least she kept her flannel “binky”.
What more do I need to say? Here is a link to her blog currently soaring into the celestial firmament of Incredibly Wonderful Writing By A Young Lady Who Never Attended The Funeral of Chuckles The Clown. “…… a little seltzer down your pants. – CLICK”
I could say “Yeah, so what. One pretty good column …. blind hogs and acorns blah blah blah.” But, alas, she’s been churning out this quality stuff for a few years now. Damn, that tempermental Muse of Creative Genius. I thought I had the exclusive.
OK BobLee, but what about Blondie? You say you are #3 in your family?
That gets a little more complicated.
You ever heard of Isaac Forrester? Young Isaac was riding a train from Washington to a certain ‘burg in Pennsylvania in November 18 and 63. He scribbled a few lines on an envelope. A tall gaunt gentleman sitting next to Isaac couldn’t help but notice what he was doing. He liked what he saw and bought that envelope for $.50. “Fourscore and seven years ago ….” that earned him his own memorial beside the Potomac. Isaac bought a ham sandwich with his $.50.
In 1946, the Prime Minister of England was preparing remarks to be given at Westminster College in Fulton, Missouri. A comely scullery maid named Isabelle was dusting Sir Winston’s humidor at that very moment and deigned to ask “Mr Churchill, would you like me to iron the curtain?” It hit Winny like a thunderbolt. Isabelle received an extra shilling in her weekly stipend.
Like Isaac and Isabelle, Blondie, once removed, has affected History in ways that you simply would not believe even if I could tell you. No, I would not “have to kill you” if I told you. But, I would likely be killed if I did.
Drop a plumb line from the center of St Louis’ Gateway Arch. If you dug down 238’ into the bedrock you would find a concrete bunker containing The Collective Contributions of Blondie to The American Epoch. Someday maybe ….. but that someday is many many days away. It’s best that way. Trust me.
So I accept my humble also-ran position as “yes, BobLee does a little writing too ….”. FWIW, I do lead our family in number of nasty names I’ve been called.
No Annabelle, you canNOT have your own laptop. Go take a nap.