Here are a few photos of me skating at Nats Park on Jan. 3 before they tore everything down after the Winter Classic. (More photos on Caps Outsider)
I went to the Winter Classic at Nats Park.
A few cool things I’ll remember:
Former Cap and longtime Caps TV color commentator Craig Laughlin and I have known each other for several years now, as I’ve written quite a bit about him, and he’s given me some great information for articles. Then I realized I really wanted my photo taken with him, and he happily accepted. Happy New Year, Laughlin!
I kept a journal when I was a kid, from about 1989 to 1992. While re-reading it recently, I came across a name I hadn’t seen in years. This person had a very unusual name – first and last – so I looked him up. What I found horrified me. He died several years ago in a jail cell, about two and a half hours after being pepper sprayed, and then Tased by police.
Black male, large, early 30s. Dead after dealing with police. Sound familiar? Only Al Sharpton didn’t come to his funeral, there was no national ‘discussion’ about this and no one protested.
Former Washington Post executive editor Ben Bradlee died Tuesday. While this is obviously sad news, I’m grateful I had the opportunity to meet him.
I once had to help someone up on the top floor of the Washington Post, where the head honchos sit. When I was done, I walked past Bradlee’s office. His door was open and he was sitting at his desk. I knew this was my chance to have a short conversation with him, so I poked my head in and said hi. I told him I had seen him on a panel at the University of Maryland journalism school, with Maury Povich, Michael Wilbon, Tony Kornheiser, and George Solomon. They were there to talk about Shirley Povich, another legend of journalism.
First, Bradlee asked me why I went all the way out there for the panel. To see him and everyone else, I replied. Then I asked him about Shirley Povich.
That’s when he went into reflection mode, telling me a story about the first time he met Povich at The Post. I don’t remember the entire story – it was obviously more of a moment of admiration for Bradlee than anything – but it involved them first meeting, talking about college football, and Povich looking in a book. I also asked him about Wilbon, to which he replied, “I like Wilbon.” As the conversation concluded, he raised his hand and waved bye.
And, like that, I got MY memorable moment with Ben Bradlee, just as Bradlee got his with Povich.
The only other time I spoke with him was on the elevator on the way to the cafeteria. We were both looking at the soup, I tried some, passed, and he said, “Doesn’t to it for ya?” Nothing special there, other than seeing a man in his 90s still showing up to work. Rest in peace.
Recently I helped launch a new website about hockey bobbleheads, called Fourth Line Bobbles. It’s the first and only online database of hockey bobbleheads given out at games. Right now it includes just the NHL, but it’ll be expanded to include the minor leagues.
The idea and nearly all of the work was done by one of my Capitals Outsider writers, Andy Wallace, who has been covering Capitals bobbleheads and often minor league hockey under my guidance.
Here’s the best part. Greg Wyshynski of Yahoo’s Puck Daddy blog, one of the most well-known hockey blogs in the country, featured an interview with Andy on Friday on a post titled The Hockey Bobblehead Database is mind-bogglingly fun. That obviously led to a huge spike in traffic and put this site on the map.
I don’t actually collect bobbleheads, but yes, I’ve written about them and I brought Andy on to focus on covering them as extensively as possible. Why? Why not. It’s clearly working, and he’s making something of it.
Anyway, check out Fourth Line Bobbles.
Some die-hard baseball fans go their entire lives without ever witnessing a no-hitter in person. While I’m no die-hard fan, I knew the significance of being there to see Jordan Zimmermann no-hitter as the Washington Nationals beat the Miami Marlins, 1-0 on Sunday.
Even better, I was there with my cousins, Brian Meyers and Justin Aiken, and Justin’s son Christian. None of us will forget that.