Hello everyone! This might be a bit of a short one on this Thursday Blog Day because it’s been quite a condensed week. I went to the Route 66 Nationals in Joliet over the weekend, then spent Monday through Wednesday dutifully writing Chapter 24 of “Bats, Balls, & Burnouts.” Today, in just an hour or so, I’m headed to the airport to pick up former college teammate and roommate Lance McCord. It’s a good thing I fired the new chapter off to my editor Greg Halling already, because the only “work” left for me this week will entail fine food, a few glasses of wine, and the company of good friends. Plus a ballgame.
My first reunion, however, was at the race. When I went to Gainesville for a day, back in March, the tour was only on its third race of the year, so it wasn’t like anyone in the pits or the Media Center had even had time to notice I wasn’t around. This past weekend, the Joliet race marked the 13th race of the season, which is now in its sixth month. It had been a while.
I flew down on Friday, getting to my hotel in Bolingbrook just in time to open my laptop and fire up NHRA All-Access to watch the second qualifying session. That allowed me to watch Wilk scream down the track in his Levi, Ray & Shoup Mustang to a 3.894 at a huge 330 mph. Much merriment was had by me.
On Saturday morning, I didn’t have to beat the sunrise to get to the track because the Joliet race has a unique qualifying schedule that starts in the late afternoon on both Friday and Saturday. I had breakfast and relaxed for a while, then headed down I-55 toward the track around 11:00 a.m. feeling like I was most certainly late. It’s weird going to the races but not in any official capacity. I have to remind myself that I can do whatever I want and go whenever I want.
When I got on Route 53 to head south to the track, I was surrounded by Funny Car teams in their tow vehicles, so I guessed I was right on time. I’m smart like that. I stopped at Credentials (another weird thing) and then parked my car on the grass lot right behind the pro pits. The lot was packed, so my bright brain also summarized that while I was on time in terms of when the pro sessions were, I was quite tardy in comparison to all the fans and officials who filled the lot. That was okay. A crowded parking lot is a good thing.
My first stop was the LRS pit area, since it was the first thing I came to when I walked through the gate. With Joliet being “just up the road” from Springfield, the Team Wilk transporter gets a primo spot on the end of the aisle. It’s a beacon for Wilk Warriors, and that’s what I am these days. A self-employed writer and a Wilk Warrior.
It was, as I knew it would be, wonderful to see everyone. Krista Wilkerson gives the greatest hugs in the history of the world. I dashed around and saw everyone as fast as I could, including all the crew guys, Tim himself, and a bevy of good friends from Springfield.
I had heard that Christopher Knight (aka Peter Brady from “The Brady Bunch”) was coming to the event, and on Friday he sent me an email to confirm that. Plus, world-class drummer Gregg Potter and Cathy Rich, the daughter of legendary drummer Buddy Rich, were also scheduled to make an appearance, so there was lots to look forward to in terms of special guests.
The best part of arriving at the track is the emotional feeling of it. For a week before I went, I felt just like I did before Gainesville. A bit apprehensive, a little unsure, and a bit worried. What would it feel like? Would everyone forget who I was? Would I feel like an uncomfortable outsider?
I had nothing to worry about. Quite literally, as soon as I walked in the pit and saw everyone, and especially when I was sharing that heartfelt hug with my best racing friend Krista, it was as if I had never left. Absolutely like I’d never left. It’s a wonderful thing.
I cruised up to the Media Center soon thereafter, but with it being still quite early in terms of pro qualifying many of my former peers (who are still great friends) weren’t at their posts. When I got back to the pit, Christopher was there with his fiancé Cara and her father. More handshakes and hugs.
Chris Knight is a really good guy. Considering his “child star” background, it’s just amazing how grounded and outgoing he is. And he carries no baggage about the show. People recognize him all the time and call him Peter, and he just smiles and chats and poses for photos. And here’s another thing… He is REALLY smart. He’s a sponge when it comes to technology, which is why he is captivated by Funny Cars and Top Fuelers. He’s drawn to the immensity of the power and the difficulty of getting it to the track without spinning those big round rubber things, and he’s constantly asking very detailed and very technical questions. Many of his thoughts and questions are completely and utterly over my head, but he listens to my “big picture” answers and appreciates whatever new knowledge he can glean.
Also, when you’re trying to take a photo with your buddy Krista, he’s not above the most epic photo-bomb in recent history. Who doesn’t want to have a selfie photo-bombed by Peter Brady?
When I went back to the Media Center a bit later, all of my former colleagues were there, in position, working away. It was phenomenal to see them all again. Todd Myers, who hasn’t been on the tour for a couple of years, made a comeback to sit in for Rob Geiger, who was on vacation, so I got to see that good buddy as well. And Brandon Mudd, who has dealt with a few hospital stays and some heart repairs, was there too, in support of TJ Zizzo’s team. It was fantastic to see both of those guys.
From Kelly Topolinski to Sadie Floyd, from Elon Werner to Cody Poor, from Allison McCormick to Nicole Clark, and from John Byczek to Terry Blount, along with everyone else in the room, it was terrific to be back. It felt like home, but it was even better because I didn’t have to work.
And the additionally great news is that I won’t have to wait four months and 10 more races to do it again. It seems impossible, but the Western Swing starts next week and I’ll be heading to Sonoma for the middle leg of that trifecta. Can’t wait.
Here in the land of being a writer, Chapter 24 was a great one to write and it pushed me in a couple of ways. I didn’t want to let my condensed schedule get in the way of writing, so I diligently wrote as much as I could each day. No slacking for me. And, as much as I recalled a million great details about the time-period I’m writing about, I still needed some research materials. This chapter is big, because it’s about the nearly two years I spent as general manager of the Kansas City Attack indoor soccer team. It was a great experience, and I can still vividly remember all sorts of feelings and experiences, but I’d be lying if I said I remembered specific game dates, scores, and attendance figures.
Fortunately, after I left the Attack I clearly had a premonition that I’d someday write all about it, because I kept copies of the game program and Media Guide. Those two publications were my lifeline for three days of detailed writing.
The Attacker magazine was, I humbly believe, the best game program in the league. Everything about it was big league, thanks to a fantastic graphic artist we hired, by the name of Carl Fowler. Carl and I spent many long days and nights huddled behind his computer at his office, perfecting the layout of each page. What he created was terrific.
And the Media Guide, produced by my Attack PR Director Tyler Cundith, had more details and information than I ever could need. It was a wealth of data, and since I’m trying to drill down and provide a lot more detail than “there were a lot of people there” in these chapters, it was great to flip the pages and see that we had 8,610 fans in attendance at Kemper Arena, on October 29, 1994, when we lost a heartbreaker to the St. Louis Ambush, 10-9.
I also recall that our team owner didn’t fully understand how publications like The Attacker were funded. Just like newspapers, the actual sale of the magazine to the public is only a small part of the income generated. It was the advertising within the magazine that brought in the money. We only charged $2 for it at the gate, because I wanted to get as many copies as possible into the hands of our fans. Our sponsors and advertisers wanted exposure!
When I was sitting in a budget meeting with the ownership group, about halfway through my first season, the primary owner said, “It costs us close to three dollars to print this, right?” I affirmed that such a cost was close. It was, specifically, more like $2.75 per copy. He then said, “And we sell it for two dollars?” Again, I nodded. Then he said, “Well gosh, I sure hope we don’t sell too many of these things. We lose money on every one we sell!” I did calmly explain to him how it worked, but I gave him credit for being funny.
Within the magazine, I saw a story about our mascot, Fuzzy The Attack Cat, and that brought back a flood of memories. Prior to the season, as Tyler and I were working hard to come up with all the content, we struggled to write the bio about our big cat. At one point, I just said, “Let me take a run at this” and no more than 15 minutes later I had it. Rather than retype it, I’ll just leave it here. And you can enlarge it to read all about Fuzzy by simply clicking on it. What a great mascot he was.
Having this opportunity, to write this book, has been one of the greatest experiences of my life. I knew, going in, that I’d had an incredible upbringing and spectacular experiences in my baseball and business careers, but to put it all into words, chapter after chapter, made it all so much more vivid and made me so much more grateful. And I still have the Whit Bazemore, Del Worsham, and Tim Wilkerson eras to go. That’s a lot of material, and I won’t cut any corners, but after 24 chapters of childhood, baseball, family, school, and other experiences, it’s a rush to know I’m finally to the NHRA payoff at the end. If I could, I’d sit here nonstop for two weeks and just finish it.
Who knows, maybe I’ll do that. Okay, not nonstop, but I have a feeling that once our reunion weekend is over I’ll have an overwhelming desire to crank it up to a new writing level. And that will be cool.
Lance is in the air right now, and the other two former SIUE Cougars, Bob “Radar” Ricker and James “Oscar” Noffke are driving up. They’re currently just south of the Twin Cities in Albert Lea, Minn.
Tonight and tomorrow night, we’ll stay at the sumptuous Grand Hotel in downtown Minneapolis. Dinner at world-famous Manny’s Steakhouse is on the docket tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll hang out in downtown for a while and then head over to Target Field for the Twins game against Cleveland. Even after Manny’s tonight, I’m still assuming the hot dogs will taste great.
On Saturday, we’ll have a leisurely breakfast and then head east to Woodbury, so I can show the guys around our new home. Then, off to downtown St. Paul to meet Woodbury friends for a drink at The Bulldog, in Lowertown, before dinner at Kincaid’s. We’ll then stay at the St. Paul Hotel, and Barbara will be coming along for that.
If last year’s fantastic trip to Cooperstown and Washington D.C. is any indicator, we’re going to have a great time.
Now, time to go pick up Monsieur McCord at MSP. See you next week, with tales of fun and mayhem.
Bob Wilber, at your service and wondering if a job as an Uber driver is in my future. Probably not.