Anyone who has read my book “Bats, Balls, & Burnouts” knows many of the central themes in my life. I grew up in St. Louis. I always loved Farotto’s pizza and their stupendous toasted ravioli. I’ve made a lot of great friends over the years, and the special ones I’ve either always kept close or have reconnected with thanks to the magic of social media. After baseball, soccer, and marketing, I spent 20 consecutive years going to drag races for a living. And, from my childhood up through college, I was either bugged by allergies or actually sick, and quite often.
Consider all those boxes checked, and many more, during this past weekend’s foray to my old home town. It was wonderful, it was nostalgic, and in the end it was pretty miserable.
I flew down on Thursday afternoon, arriving at the Homewood Suites just an hour before my dinner with longtime friend and classmate Jim Keegan. We met at Maggiano’s, which was walking distance for me. If you’ve ever had the pleasure of dinner at a Maggiano’s, you know about the great fare and how fun the atmosphere is. If you haven’t, you should. There are 49 Maggiano’s spread around the country, and the food is special.
Jim had just arrived and was waiting at the bar for me. Seeing him for the first time in about 38 years was a remarkable and fantastic thing. We were very close friends in college, sharing a large number of classes in the Mass Communications Department at SIUE. Our mutually bent senses of humor fit together like a crossword puzzle. But, as was often the case back then, we both started moving around and chasing different dreams, and we lost touch. Facebook, for all its warts and nuisances, was the method to reconnect. Last Thursday night in Clayton, Mo. was the evening to do it in person.
We weren’t one sentence into our conversation before we were laughing riotously, and it never ended until we said goodbye. We caught up on each other’s lives, we looked back on our time at school and our careers post-college, and we laughed. Not those polite “ha-ha” laughs when you’re just trying to be nice. We laughed and shook our heads and spanned the years of wonderful memories. We talked about school, and our classes, and the projects we did as a team. We talked baseball. We talked about the Cubs World Series victory and what that meant, so very deeply, to a Chicago-area guy like Jim. We talked about how we used to go to Cardinals home games any time we felt like it, and the tricks we knew that allowed us to buy cheap General Admission tickets and then sit in the box seats. It helped that the Cardinals rarely sold out Busch Stadium back then, in the late 70s. We stunned each other repeatedly by knowing the exact sentence the other guy was about to say. And did I mention we laughed a lot?
Jim brought his copy of the book, and before we left I put a heartfelt inscription inside it. What a phenomenal evening. Truly an evening well spent. We “waste” a lot of time in our lives. So much so that nights like last Thursday seem so valuable. And the weekend was only just beginning.
Plus, my salmon dinner was spectacular.
I’d originally planned to keep Friday completely free, but when the chance to have lunch with Art Holliday came up, that took immediate precedence.
I met Art in 1982, when I returned to St. Louis after a year out in Fresno. We became friends quickly, and shared a ton of interests in common, not the least of which was sports. He was in the sports department at KSDK-TV in St. Louis, and was establishing a great reputation and fan base in the area. We also were both music freaks, with elaborate stereos in our suburban apartments. We liked cars, too, and I remember he was driving one of the first versions of the Nissan Maxima when we met. I had a Toyota Celica. I don’t know what I had for lunch yesterday, but I remember that.
We were both communications grads in college. He got his degree in Journalism in the prestigious program at the University of Missouri. And, we not only both played tennis a lot, we just happened to be at about the same skill level, so we both enjoyed our very even matches and we made each other better. Then, after a few years my career took me off to various points on the map, while Art stayed at Channel 5 in St. Louis. He did sports for about 10 years, then did the early morning show for 20. Now he does special feature projects for the news department. And he hasn’t changed a bit.
We met at a restaurant near his home in the fashionable Central West End area of St. Louis, just east of historic Forest Park. I know the area well, since my high school is no more than a mile away and when my mother had her PR agency, she rented an office suite right in the heart of the Central West End. I’d never been to the place where Art wanted to meet, though, so I tried to get there early. That plan backfired a little, but I was lucky enough to find a meter right by the entrance. I used a credit card to put an hour and 20 minutes on it, figuring a busy guy like Art wouldn’t have time for much more than that. He was already seated in the outdoor area on the bustling sidewalk. Again, just like with Jim the night before, it was like we’d just seen each other. Also like Jim, it had been about the same 38 years since we had actually been together.
We had a great lunch, a rollicking conversation, and some more serious talk about our careers and what we’ve been up to. Like I wrote in last week’s blog, he’s been at KSDK since the day he was hired there. I’ve done quite a few other things and have lived in St. Louis, Washington DC, St. Louis again, Dana Point, Calif., Topeka, Indianapolis, Chapel Hill, Austin, Woodbury, Liberty Lake, and now Woodbury again in the same span.
When lunch was over, my parking meter had actually run out. We shared another handshake and hug on the sidewalk, and said goodbye. And I totally forgot to take a selfie. I realized that when I started my car. Grrrr. So, I present to you my longtime friend Art Holliday with this shot I found of him hanging out with Keith Richards in Greenwich Village, during a film project Art did. Because how cool is it to hang out with Keith Richards! Way cooler than hanging out with the author of “Bats, Balls, & Burnouts” I’d think. I was going to try to mock up a “fake selfie” by inserting my mug in a shot of Art, but my PhotoShop skills are basically nonexistent, so this is what we have to work with. Plus, Keith Richards. I do not have that box checked on my list.
After lunch, I took a few hours to tour around my hometown, seeing neighborhoods and ballparks and businesses that date back to my earliest memories. I’m a chronically nostalgic guy, a fact to which Barbara can absolutely attest. Whenever I’m in a place where I used to live or spend a lot of time, I always like to take some time to drive around and see things. I don’t necessarily feel the need to actually go into those places, but I like to rekindle warm memories by seeing places that meant a lot to me.
Of course, I had to visit Kirkwood and it didn’t take long for me to notice something that’s not necessarily a good thing, in my opinion. Kirkwood has been just about 100% built-out since my college days. The only way for it to grow was to purchase land parcels from residents and then cram a few more houses in there. Many of the original homes in Kirkwood were small 1940s brick bungalows and Cape Cods, just like the first home my parents bought in 1946, on Par Lane not too far from Woodleaf Court, where I would grow up.
What I saw this trip was a trend in those older neighborhoods of smaller homes. People are going in and buying two of them at once, so they can tear them both down and then put in a larger more modern house. And that transition is a jarring one. The history disappears, and while the neighborhoods are transitioning you have this crazy juxtaposition of new and old, big and small, all on the same street.
As for Woodleaf Ct., I think it will avoid this trend. It’s an historically important cul-de-sac of just 10 homes, but they were all designed by an esteemed architect named Harris Armstrong, and they are classic examples of mid-century contemporary style. And very unique to just one street. The street I grew up on.
I stopped by and took yet another photo of my former home. If there are vivid memories of many other parts of Kirkwood or the St. Louis area, there are none more vivid and important than this place. Basketball and Wiffle Ball in the driveway. Kickball in the street. Riding our bikes around the cul-de-sac circle with the other kids in the neighborhood, on endless summer afternoons and evenings. My original bedroom upstairs (second window from the right) from my grade school years, and my room in the basement through high school (with blacklight posters, of course). Christmas in the living room. Dinners at the table. This is home. And it looks marvelous.
The two tall windows on the left side of the front door are the living room. If you look up on the roof, you can spot a skylight window angled up to the side of the chimney. Ours was the only house on Woodleaf with that feature. It was great to feel the vibe again.
I headed back to the hotel for a bit but it was soon time to get to Farotto’s to meet my niece Kim and enjoy our now annual tradition of toasted ravioli and pizza at our favorite place.
I had a bit of a panic attack when I noticed the new menu and the fact the very style of pizza the Wilber family has enjoyed since the first time I ate Farotto’s as a young kid, was no longer listed. All I’ve ever ordered at Farotto’s, for all these decades, was the “Deluxe” version of their thin-crust St. Louis style pizza. And it wasn’t there!
Just as I was about to decide, “Well, more than five decades of the Deluxe is probably a rut anyway, so I ought to order something different” the server appeared and I asked her about it. She said, “Don’t worry, all the guys know how to make a Deluxe. I can get you one.” Crisis averted, and rut maintained.
Kim and I enjoyed our pizza and each took some home. We also split an order of toasted ravioli and Farotto’s once again established itself as the purveyor of the finest “toasted ravs” in town. And it’s the town where toasted ravioli was invented. So that’s saying a lot, in my book.
We caught up on family news, and all other things important to both of us, and then shared another hug before heading in opposite directions; me to my hotel and Kim to her lovely Kirkwood home. She is the last of my relatives to remain in our home town, at least for now.
I got what I thought was a fine night’s sleep that night, knowing I was meeting my buddy Stan Osterbur at his workplace at 9:30 on Saturday morning. When I woke up, I noticed something I haven’t felt in a very long time. I had a legit sore throat. I felt pretty good otherwise, but the sore throat was more than just a hassle.
I drove over to Collinsville to pick up Stan, and I was ready for him with a credential and a lanyard ready to go. With this being his first drag racing experience, I wanted it to be a top-notch experience. And, thanks to the great help of my friend Kelly Topolinski and friend Les Williams from the Summit Racing Pro Stock team (you know Les if you watch NHRA Pro Stock on TV – He’s the guy with the cowboy hat who helps clear the burnout smoke from Greg Anderson or Jason Line’s cars by opening and closing one of the doors) I landed two “Sponsor Viewing Area” stickers for Stan and myself. Those would allow us to stand in front of the tower and make the experience all the more vivid.
Stan brought along his fabulous camera, with multiple lenses, and by the time we walked through the pits on our way in, his head was already spinning in every direction. When we arrived at the Team Wilkerson pit, I could tell the whole thing was slightly overwhelming for Stan, but in a good way. Actually, in a great way. I don’t think he had any idea what to expect, but it wasn’t quite as amazing as what he was seeing. Stan got to meet everyone, including Wilk who took a few precious minutes out of his hectic day to talk baseball with us. He met Krista and immediately knew why she’s one of my best friends ever. He got to meet Dick Levi as well, and a bunch of crew guys and other friends of mine. It was fun for me to experience it with him. And, standing near the car during the first warmup, he got his introduction to Nitro. And he liked it.
We headed over to the Worsham & Fink pit next, and spent a solid 15-minutes with Del, up in his lounge, recalling stories we’ve all told about each other. That was terrific, and Del was really gracious as he showed Stan his race computer and explained how these 10,000 hp beasts are (hopefully) tamed in the tuning room. I even learned a few things.
When we headed up to the tower to watch from the sponsor viewing area, and the first Top Fuel car did its burnout, Stand just turned and looked at me. He didn’t have words for it. I yelled, “You haven’t seen anything yet!”
When the first two launched, his eyes were as wide as saucers and he said, “That’s the most incredible thing I have ever seen, heard, and felt. Now I know why you brought me here.” Another new recruit has joined the faithful.
I’d been texting with Alan Reinhart, knowing that if he gave my book a plug and mentioned that I was a St. Louis native and the son of a Cardinal, we could probably move a few copies. He’s always great about that, but with this race being St. Louis I figured we’d do better than normal. Then, there was a lengthy oil-down during Top Fuel and I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I looked at the text and it was from Alan. It said, “Can you get up here right now?”
I dashed up to the announcer’s booth and Alan and I had a solid six or seven minutes of down-time to play with. We utilized every bit of it, talking about where I went to school, who my mom and dad were and what they did, and even my baseball career with both the SIUE Cougars and the Sauget Wizards. It was great fun, and my hunch turned out to be accurate. I signed a lot of books!
When we got back to the pit, we had some lunch and I continued to pound bottles of water almost nonstop. Stan said he lost count when I hit my 15th bottle, but my throat was still barking at me. Then, I got another thrill.
I just happened to be looking at the front of the hospitality area when I spotted a face from the past. A face so familiar it made me jump out of my seat. It was the first Funny Car driver I represented after I went out on my own as a PR and marketing guy. It was Norm Wilding, my British friend from the early 1990s. I hadn’t seen Norm since probably around 1998 or thereabouts.
I brought Norm and his friend into the hospitality area, and he asked about the book. He was wondering if I wrote about him and said, “I hope you were kind to me.” I told him, of course, he was a big part of it and I wrote of him honestly, which was a positive thing. He then went out and bought a copy and returned to have me sign it. He’d said earlier that he recalled exactly what I had said the first time I introduced myself to him. He stated, “Bob, you shook my hand and said ‘Norm, I’m going to make you a star’.” Well, I tried. It surely wasn’t his fault that we didn’t achieve our wildest dreams. When I signed his book I wrote “To my friend Norm. You ARE a star!”
For the second qualifying session, I took Stan to a place where he could get another completely different experience. LRS not only packs the pitside hospitality area, they also rent a huge tent trackside, near the finish line. I wanted Stan to get that perspective, where the speed of the cars is so crazily evident. When the first Top Fuel cars went by, his eyes were even wider than they were at the starting line. Great stuff.
Once the Funny Car session was about half over, I heard the announcement on the P.A. that all sportsman cars still in competition should start stacking up in the staging lanes. They would all run again after the pro session was over. That news meant that Stan and I had to make a decision. We either had to bolt right then, to avoid being blocked in the Gold Key lot (which empties through the lanes) or stick it out and be there another hour or more. My throat made the decision for me. We got out of there just in time, and were lucky to find a space between two sportsman cars to get out of the track.
I wasn’t feeling all that spiffy, but the day Stan had experienced, combined with seeing Norm, being on the P.A. with Alan, signing so many books, and seeing so many friends, was priceless.
My flight on Sunday was at noon, and I went to bed as soon as I felt like I could go to sleep, after taking some Alka Seltzer Cold tablets. I woke up at 5:00 a.m. and knew it was not good. The sore throat had abated a little, but now the fun was in my chest and sinuses. A full blown head & chest cold had taken up residence, and it didn’t seem like the sort of visitor who planned to leave very soon. I was officially miserable enough I wasn’t sure how I could get out of bed, much less drive to the airport or get on a plane. Fortunately, the early wake-up left me a solid five hours to do all I could to feel at least partially human. It wasn’t much fun.
I managed to get my rental car returned, check my bag, and get to the gate with time to spare. I was feeling a little better just walking around, but I was pretty sure I hadn’t even gotten to the worst of it yet. By the time I finally got home, it was all I could do to get unpacked and hit the sofa for a while. Barbara was wonderful enough to head up to Walgreen’s to get me more meds and those helped enormously. The Alka Seltzer Cold stuff is pretty magic.
And, of course, the next morning Barbara felt the first pangs of it. These colds love to move around and make new friends. I spent nearly all of Monday in a fog, mostly laying in bed with Buster. It was one of those “lost days” that seem to pass like an hallucination. By Tuesday, I was on the rebound just as Barb was hitting the skids. Such fun.
In college, I got this sort of thing a lot. My roomie Lance called it “Bob Wilber’s Disease.” I haven’t been felled by a bout this bad in a long time though. Maybe as long ago as 2001. Another slam from Bob Wilber’s Disease can take its sweet time making its next visit. If it never returns, I’m okay with that. It’s about a day getting started, then two days of being wasted, then two or three more going away. I’m on Day 6 now, and it’s almost gone. Good riddance! Barbara is only on Day 4. She still has a way to go.
So, despite the grunge at the end of my trip and return home, the rest of it was stellar. I’m not sure I’ve ever written a blog in which I’ve had the remarkable pleasure of seeing so many old friends, while doing so many great things, all within a matter of two days. If the cold was the price to pay for that, I’m happy to pay it.
And finally, our local sports news… As reported, our Twins had one of the most amazing turnarounds in baseball history, going from 103 losses last year to the American League Wild Card playoff. The only problem was the fact the one-game playoff would be at Yankee Stadium, on Tuesday night. When our boys stunned the crowd with two home-runs and three runs scored in the top of the first, I was happy but then worried. They left runners on second and third after the three runs, and couldn’t drive them in. That seemed like a bad omen to me. The omen came true. Final score: Yankees 8 – Twins 4. Still, we’re all proud of what this young team did, and I think the franchise has turned a big corner. They are young and talented. If their pitching gets a little better, we might be getting psyched up for playoff baseball for a number of years.
The best news in the Twin Cities was provided by our WNBA team, the Minnesota Lynx. They’ve been very good for a very long time, and once again were in the WNBA Finals against the L.A. Sparks. Last year, in the final game of the playoffs, with 3-seconds left, the Sparks and Lynx forwards were battling for a rebound with the Lynx up by one. Just when it looked like the Lynx would earn their fourth WNBA championship in six years, the Sparks tipped it in and broke their hearts.
This year, it was a replay and a chance at redemption, and redemption it was in a thriller that went to the wire. Plus, it happened in a perfect venue. With Target Center undergoing a massive renovation, they played this season at Xcel Energy Center, the home of the Wild in downtown St. Paul. They did fine there, and drew nice crowds, but once the building had to be ready for hockey they needed another new home for the playoffs. So, the University of Minnesota rolled out the red carpet at Williams Arena, the historic Gophers basketball arena affectionately called “The Barn.” Last night, 14,632 rabid fans filled more than every seat in the gym, which has an official capacity of 14,625. I guess the extra seven people stood up. And they were LOUD.
It was great fun to watch, and a great feeling to see them celebrate with more than 14,000 screaming fans. I don’t imagine the Sparks were ready for that atmosphere. And, not to be too snarky about it, but it’s a rare bright spot in Minnesota sports these days. As one of the Pioneer Press columnists wrote in today’s paper, the Lynx now have twice as many championships (4) as the Twins (2), Vikings (0), Timberwolves (0), and Wild (0) have combined.
So we had that to cheer about last night. And the Twins are clearly a team on the upswing. The T-Wolves seem to have their best roster since the Kevin Garnett heyday, and we’re excited to see how good they can be. The Wild are now a destination team, where free agents want to go to vie for a Stanley Cup. The Vikings seem to remain cursed by injuries, and our Minnesota United FC Loons are just starting to write their tale as a first-year team in MLS. Maybe this is the start of the next great era in Minnesota sports. And we’d have the Lynx to thank for getting it rolling. Way to go, ladies!
Wow, this was a long one but there was so much material to cover. It will be nice to just relax for the rest of the week, and for both of us to continue getting better from this awful thing we passed around. Next week, I’m off to Dallas but not before I do my next Thursday blog. I’ll see you then.
As always (say it with me) if you just read this blog and liked what you read, please “Like” it by clicking on the button at the top.
And finally, because I can and because I’ve learned not to be shy about promotion, if you’ve been thinking “I need to order Wilber’s book” or “I swear I’m going to get around to ordering Wilber’s book in October” now’s the time! We just got our 22nd review, and once again it’s 5-Stars. I hope you’ll buy it and enjoy it.
See you next week.
Bob Wilber, at your service and feeling better.