Bob Wilber grew up aspiring to follow in his father’s baseball footsteps, and while he was able to secure a full college scholarship and later spend parts of six years in professional ball, as a player, coach, and scout, his mother’s writing, communications, and public relations skills were what eventually defined his career. After a successful and adventurous sports-marketing trek through the sports-apparel business, agency work, and professional indoor soccer, he saw his first drag race as he closed in on his 40th birthday. Little did he know that he’d go on to spend 20 consecutive years as a team manager and PR representative for Del Worsham and then Tim Wilkerson, two of the most popular Funny Car drivers on the NHRA tour. At the conclusion of the 2015 season, Bob ended his drag racing run in order to take on an important personal assignment. Over the course of 2016 he wrote his autobiography, entitled “Bats, Balls, & Burnouts” and submitted it to the publisher in early February. It was released in late May, 2017 and is available on and other major online book retailers, in both printed and digital formats.

In Memory
Jan 16, 2020   //   by bwilber

When I completed my blog installment last week, I had some leftover memorabilia items I figured I’d save for this week.  Mostly baseball stuff I had found online, including an incredible letter to my father from Mr. Ford Frick, then President of the National League, about the 1948 All Star Game that, as far as I know, nobody in our family knew anything about. It was just going to be another one of those blogs. And then everything changed on Friday.

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Of Parents, On A Cold Winter Day
Jan 9, 2020   //   by bwilber

Very early on in my autobiography “Bats, Balls, & Burnouts” I brought up the musty old adage about the fact you “can’t pick your parents.” That truism is a key part of the entire book, as is the line I used more than once that I am “the luckiest kid in the world” to have been born to Del and Taffy Wilber. I didn’t pick them. It just happened. It’s science, it’s random, and DNA is involved. I’ve heard people also claim that “you can’t pick your neighbors” but I don’t think that’s 100% true. If you’re super-wealthy enough, you can buy up all the property around you and not have any pesky neighbors, but of course we’re talking about Mark Zuckerberg or Bill Gates super-wealthy. Hence my claim that the neighbors adage is not 100% true. It’s also good fortune that we’ve had so many great neighbors over the years. We didn’t pick them. They already lived there!

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“Welcome Back!” – He Says To Himself
Jan 2, 2020   //   by bwilber

Whew! It’s been a crazy couple of weeks but I’m back to work and have fingers on the keyboard to create some new nonsense today. I’m a little late, in that it’s now almost 4:00 on an overcast Minnesota Thursday, but the thermometer is on our side and a lot of our accumulated snow is melting. It’s kind of been that way to this point in the winter season. Big snowfalls followed by warmups. That’s not a bad thing.

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A Brief Blog Hiatus For The Holidays
Dec 19, 2019   //   by bwilber

Greetings blog faithful, and thank you once again for being so supportive and interested in the rambling nonsense I so often provide. This week, however, I shall leave you with a few photos (only fair, since I provided none last week) and word that this week’s blog will be nothing more than this explanation of said photos and next week’s will likely (almost surely, but don’t call me Shirley) not exist at all. It’s that time of the year, and here in Wilber/Doyle Land that means travel.

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Questions That Need Answering
Dec 12, 2019   //   by bwilber

Every now and then, when the well of blog material runs a little dry, I fall back on a time-tested remedy for such a lack of material. I do a “Q & A” blog by answering questions I’ve received, over the months, from readers. I typically privately answer the emails or messages immediately, but I save the questions for these installments that don’t have fun things like a trip to New York, or St. Louis, or Amsterdam, as the prime theme.

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