Archive for the ‘Nick Gholson’ Category

The people running Hooterville Falls built us a coliseum.

But they forgot a few things while spending more than $20 million to do it.

Like a press box, a decent sound system and, at first, hand railings.

Now, like I have written here many times, we have one of the worst civic coliseums known to mankind.

So what should I expect when our city decided to give us a dog park?

My wife and I took the two “children” to the new dog park on opening day.

It is really nice to have a place where the puppies can run around unleashed and get some exercise.

But once again, it looks like, the people running Hooterville forgot something.

WATER.

It would have been nice if they had put a pond inside the park.

But if that was too much trouble, how about a water faucet, a hose and a few buckets?

Surely, we wouldn’t need a bond election or tax hike for that.

In fact, just give us the water faucet. We’ll donate the hose and buckets.

Dogs need water, especially come summertime when they are running around in Hooterville heat.

And our city owns a water park, surely we can’t provide a little H2O for these puppies.

Just because I didn’t see any water at our dog park doesn’t mean it’s not there.

Maybe I just missed it.

If so, please show me and I will blog an apology ASAP.

Got a postcard in the mail this week reminding me that it’s time to make an appointment with my urologist.

And I am looking for any excuse I can find.

I am really, really busy at this time of the year.

Can’t we do this some other time?

Or maybe another century?

I checked my schedule and found an opening on May 17.

That’s May 27, 2021.

All this reminds me of a Dave Barry column from a few years ago.

Dave gave four reasons for not scheduling a colonoscopy.

1. You’ve been busy.

2. You don’t have a history of cancer in your family.

3. You haven’t noticed any problems.

4. You don’t want a doctor to stick a tube 17,000 feet up your butt.

The same goes for the dreaded prostate exam.

Just substitute a three-inch index finger for the tube.

Bending over and having some guy stick his finger up your butt is just not natural.

The only thing I can think of that might be worse is CANCER.

Guess I better call my finger — uh, my doctor — and make that appointment.

I went to visit my mama yesterday.

I stood by her grave at the Hope Cemetery in Henrietta and told her about what was going on in my life.

This is the 48th Mother’s Day I have been without her.

Those of you who know me know that my mama was killed in a car wreck back in the summer of 1963. She was 35. I was 16.

But on Mother’s Day, you want to be close to your mama.

And now this lonely graveyard is as close as I can get.

I told her that I was still writing about sports for a living. My mama was a big sports fan.

And I told her that she has two grandchildren (now 35 and 32) who would make her proud and a little 7-year-old grandson who is second to none.

As I was talking, I thought to myself, “I wonder if she can hear me.”

As a Christian, I believe in heaven and hell.

But there is something that confuses me.

Do the people in heaven know at all what is going on down on earth?

Does God let mama hear me when I tell her I love her?

The Bible says there is no pain, no suffering, no tears in heaven.

So it is hard to imagine the people who are there knowing what is going on down here.

If you have an answer to this, let me know.

I may just be talking to myself and a tombstone.

But I will be back next Mother’s Day just to tell her how much I love her and miss her.

The one thing I do believe is some day soon, we will be together on Mother’s Day.

For eternity.

The Cowboys traded Tody Smith and Billy Parks to the Oilers for the first pick in the 1974 NFL Draft.

They should have locked Gil Brandt and Tex Schramm up for stealing.

We never heard much from Smith or Parks after that deal.

But the first pick in that draft will never be forgotten.

Ed “Too Tall” Jones played 15 seasons with the Cowboys and was one of the best defensive ends to ever play the game.

Back in 1975, “Too Tall” came to Burkburnett to help the town open its new Boys & Girls Club.

He was 24 and on the brink of playing in three Super Bowls in four years.

On Thursday, “Too Tall” came back to Burk to help the town honor Pat Norriss, person who helped bring the club to her home town.

He is now 60 but still looks like he could sack a quarterback.

Check out Patrick Johnston’s photo in today’s newspaper.

On the left is “Too Tall” Jones — all 6-foot-9 of him.

On the right is “Too Short” Norris — all 4-foot-something of her.

“Too Short” tried to tell me she was 5-foot, but I wasn’t buying it — even with the four-inch hair-do.

The lady may be short, but she has been big in putting the Boom back in Boomtown.

The decision to turn Osama bin Laden into fish food was a dumb one.

Dumping his sorry dead ass into the Indian Ocean was explained to us as “Muslim tradition,” but some Muslims are now telling us that’s a crock.

We could have paid off a big hunk of our national debt with a 50-state tour that could be staged much like a carnival freak show.

Heck, look how many people paid to see King Tut.

Surely we could get 20 or 30 bucks apiece from Americans who would line up to see a dead Osama.

Our president and all his high-ranking buddies got to watch Osama killed.

Is there not a DVR in the White House?

Could this not have been recorded and shown in prime time or maybe at halftime of the next Super Bowl?

So now that Osama’s remains are in the belly of some hungry fish, there will be Osama sightings all over the world.

“Hey, have you heard — Osama was spotted down on Bourbon Street drinking with Elvis and Dale Earnhardt.”

Our government is even hesitant about letting us see photos of Osama’s corpse.

We get to watch Saddam hanged on live TV, but they won’t let us see a few glossy shots of dead OBL?

Sounds like a conspiracy to me.

I read where the WFISD once again allowed three prisoners to come into our schools and warn our children about drinking and doping and shooting and stealing.

Nothing wrong with that.

Their “don’t do what I did or you will be where I’m at” speeches may actually keep a few of these kids out of trouble.

But every year when I read this story, I ask the same question:

“How can a superintendent who would not allow the President of the United States to speak to our kids (see Sept. 9, 2009 blog) turn around and let thieves and murderers come into their schools and talk to them?”

Please, Mr. Kazanas, explain yourself!

I read where the cost of the royal wedding is estimated at around $48 million.

You can buy a couple of small countries or maybe even a couple of starting pitchers for that kind of money.

I sat down and estimated the cost of my four weddings.

The first one was five bucks.

The second one was 25 dollars.

The third was a couple hundred.

The fourth was 70 bucks.

The only wedding that counts — the last one — was at The Little Chapel by the Courthouse — just across the street from the Golden Nugget in Vegas. The bride and groom both wore shorts.

The wedding cost $60.

I tipped the preacher 10 bucks even though he was 30 minutes late getting to the chapel.

So I got married four times for around $300.

My three divorces cost about a thousand dollars more than the four weddings.

Wonder what a royal divorce is going for these days?

I will watch the NFL Draft tonight.

I have no choice. I am addicted to this stuff.

Who’s moving up? Who’s moving down?

Who’s on the clock?

Knowing “Mel’s best available” player on the board is important to me.

I know I am not alone.

There are many other draftaholics out there.

Has to be — the draft has moved to prime time this year.

But Thursday night or Saturday afternoon, my focus is still the same.

WWCD?

What will the Cowboys do?

By sucking for much of last season, Dallas earned itself a No. 9 pick.

That’s no sure thing.

Since 2004, the No. 9 pick in the draft has been Reggie Williams; Carlos Rogers; Ernie Sims, Ted Ginn Jr., Keith Rivers, B.J. Raji and C.J. Spiller.

Raji leaped into the NFL spotlight a year ago when the Packers’ 6-2, 337-pound nose tackle returned an interception for a playoff touchdown, helping Green Bay get to the Super Bowl.

The rest of this group is average at best.

C.J. Spiller, a running back from Clemson, went to the Bills with the ninth pick last year.

David Nelson was a free agent, but the free agent wide receiver and former Rider star scored three touchdowns — two more than the much higher paid Spiller.

The two best 9 picks of this century came in 2003 when Minnesota took Kevin Williams and in 2000 when the Bears snatched up Brian Urlacher.

The Vikings had the seventh pick in the 2003 draft but let the clock run down on them. While they snoozed, the Jaguars and Panthers jumped up and made their picks.

Minnesota still got the best or the deal by taking a six-time Pro Bowl defensive tackle.

Urlacher, however, was the cream of the No. 9 crop.

The Bears’ middle linebacker hasn’t made the people in Chicago forget Dick Butkas, but he sure has made a Butkus-type reputation in the Windy City.

Although most people believe Jerry Jones will take USC offensive tackle Tyron Smith, I still think he will trade down and get some extra picks.

It is just his style.

But if they do use that No. 9 pick, keep your fingers crossed that they get an Urlacher.

I consider myself a pretty good tipper.

Maybe that’s because my mama was a waitress. She kept her tip jar on top of the fridge and dumped her change in it every day when she got home from work.

A lot of that money eventually ended up in little Nicky’s pocket.

So I always tip my waitress and refuse to eat out with any of my cheapskate friends who don’t.  (Please insert photo of Lee Anderson)

I always tip the usual suspects — waiters and waitresses; bartenders; barmaids; car hops; pizza delivery guys; my barber; baggage handlers; cab drivers; etc. etc. etc.

But I never drop a penny into one of those tip jars at Starbucks.

Nor do I tip when I have to go to a counter and place my food order.

Sorry, Gidget.

Most of the time I know when and whom to tip and the right amount.

But I am still a bit fuzzy on what to do at the dry cleaners.

You drive up and drop off a few shirts on Tuesday morning, then come back to pick them up on Wednesday evening.

So who gets the tip — the girl who you gave them to on Tuesday or the girl who gave them back to you the next day?

Or both?

Or neither?

Right now my answer is neither.

If I’m wrong, please let me know.

I switched dentists last week.

The main reason is because my favorite hygienist changed jobs.

The second reason is because every time I went to my old dentist’s office, I felt like I was in one of those timeshare circuses, being high-pressured to buy stuff I didn’t really want and couldn’t really afford.

I didn’t even know my new dentist.

When I heard his name, I almost ran back to the timeshare pressure.

My new dentist is Glenn Beck.

“Does that mean he only works on the RIGHT side of our mouths?” I joked when I heard the name.

“He probably wouldn’t touch anything on the LEFT.”

Ha. Ha.

No, this Glenn Beck is not the outgoing Fox News nut who thinks everyone who doesn’t believe his idiocy is a Hitler-loving Nazi.

No, my Glenn Beck is a good Hooterville Falls home boy.

I don’t know his political beliefs and don’t care.

Just keep Louise around to clean my teeth and don’t try to sell me a new mouth.

During a grandpa-to-grandson conversation this past weekend, I asked 7-year-old Nicholas why we make such a big deal out of Christmas but don’t really do much to celebrate Easter.

“At Christmas, we celebrate the birthday of Jesus,” I told him. “At Easter, we celebrate Jesus’ resurrection from the grave.

“I was born. You were born. Your mom and dad were born. Everybody was born. That’s no big deal. But Jesus is the only person to ever rise from the grave.”

Shouldn’t that at least be worth a decorated tree and some lights?

Why doesn’t Santa Claus deliver toys for Easter?

“And what do eggs have to do with Easter?” Nicholas asked.

I tried to explain “new birth” to a 7-year-old.

Then he told me how stupid it is for our mall to dress up somebody in a rabbit suit and put them in the same place that Santa Claus sits every December.

His reasoning was that Santa Claus is there to find out what toys that kids want him to deliver to their houses on Christmas.

A bunny rabbit can’t even drive a sleigh.

If you were going to eat your last meal in Wichita Falls, where would you pick?

I tossed up that question in the newsroom this week and go several different responses.

My answer would be at home because my wife is a great cook.

But in all fairness, the question is asking what restaurant you would pick for that final meal.

My friend Matt Ledesma put the question on his Facebook page and got several different responses.

Branding Iron was the most popular, but there were also votes for the Pelican, Parkway, Samurai, McBride’s Land and Cattle, Sevi’s, a Stanley beanie burger and Bar L.

Then some picked franchise chains like Olive Garden and Chili’s.

I would never pick a franchise chain.

I’m from Hooterville Falls.

I want to go out eating Hootervillian.

I love Bar L chicken livers and red draws.

Ditto for Casa Manana’s “Senorita Special” with an extra red taco and some queso.

That combo plate at Branding Iron is also pretty darn good.

Pioneer’s “Famous Enchiladas” are always great. Whoever came up with the idea of serving French fries with Mexican food is a genius.

And I still love that steak and garlic over at P-2.

All would be worthy of my last supper.

But I still think there is nothing better than a really good burger.

And Hooterville is a burger lover’s dream.

Gene’s, Scott’s, Pat’s, Ronnie’s, Stanley’s beanie burger — all are quality.

Tough choice, but I would pick Pat’s Drive In for my last supper.

Give me the large cheeseburger with an order of onion rings, an order of French fries and a big glass of iced tea.

I read in the paper this morning where the WFISD is talking out loud about possibly closing Hirschi High School to cut a big chunk out of the budget.

It’s an interesting idea that has been discussed hush-hush for years, but there is something about this story that keeps me from taking it seriously.

The story mentioned two school administrators — Superintendent George Kazanas and Assistant Superintendent Tim Powers.

How can we seriously discuss getting rid of teachers and closing down schools when we are still paying big bucks to have both a superintendent and an assistant superintendent.

I am a product of the WFISD, so I can do the math.

2 minus 1 equals 1.

Once they figure that out up at the top, then I might start buying some of the other stuff they are trying to sell me.

The seven-month junior hockey season is finally over.

I saw only one game.

I hate to admit that because I like hockey and really want this Wildcats franchise to succeed.

It’s just that the Kay Yeager Coliseum is not sports writer friendly.

No press box. No Nick.

The short-sighted people who built the KYC didn’t bother to put in a press box.

Then they tried to cover up their mistake by hammering together some kind of tree house/kitty litter box that ranks right up there with our famous crepe myrtle in the park and the Attebury grain elevator as Hooterville Falls’ most embarrassing eyesores.

Every year I hear rumors that Wichita Falls is losing its hockey team.

Guess that just comes natural around here.

Teams do come and go.

The  Texans.

The Roughnecks.

The Thunder.

But even though hockey interest in this town has seemed to decrease over the past nine years, the Wildcats still have decent attendance figures.

According to league’s Web site, Wichita Falls was No. 5 in NAHL attendance this season, averaging 1,894 per game.

And that was for a sub-.500 team.

But that attendance figure still means that the KYC is still about three-quarters empty when the Wildcats play.

That takes a lot of the excitement away from the games.

Or I guess I should say it seems like it would.

I haven’t been there to see for myself.

The four reigning major golf champions are:

Charl Schwartzel (Masters)

Martin Kaymer (PGA)

Louis Oosthuizen (British Open)

Graeme McDowell (U.S. Open)

Schwartzel and Oosthuizen are from South Africa.

Kaymer is a German. McDowell is from Northern Ireland.

It’s the first time ever than no American golfer is in this exclusive quartet.

No Phil. No Tiger. No red, white and blue.

Only two Americans finished in the top 9 at Augusta.

Professional golf  now seems to be going where professional tennis already is.

It has now been 10 years since an American man won Wimbledon and eight since the U.S. Open had has a U.S. winner.

Bad news for TV ratings.

If Americans aren’t winning, Americans won’t be watching.

Just read where Bristol Palin was paid $322, 500 to be an ambassador for a foundation trying to prevent teen pregnancies.

So let me get this right — the girl gets knocked up while she’s in high school, becomes an unwed mother when he is 17 and then gets paid one third of a million dollars to go around telling other young girls not to do what she did.

I can hear her now — “Do you want to end up like me?”

And every teen-age girl in the room shouts back — “DAMN RIGHT.”

Famous, rich and dumb.

Hey, two out of three is pretty good, especially when the first two guarantee your 20-year-old dumb ass will probably never have to work  another day in your life.

(Unless anyone out there considers moose hunting or a gig on Dancing with the Stars a real job.)

What a great country this is!

But wasn’t it much better before any of us had ever heard of Bristol Palin or her goofy mama?

In a newspaper column last week, I incorrectly wrote that if Nelson Haggerty was hired to be the Midwestern State men’s head basketball coach, he would be the first black head coach in school history.

Then I get a note from MSU sports information director Trey Reed informing me that the school’s first African-American head coach was Eunice Thomas, who headed up the volleyball team for one season back in 1998.

Then current head volleyball coach Venera Flores-Stafford sent me an e-mail saying that she was half African-American. Her mom is black and her dad is “German/Philipino.”

Well, Haggerty was promoted to the head coaching position on Tuesday.

Guess that officially makes him number 2.5 in the line of black head coaches at MSU.

Whatever, I am proud of my alma mater for making this hire.

Before our school board starts getting rid of good teachers in an attempt to cut another $1.5 million from the budget,  it should consider another option that I proposed a long time ago.

Take a bucket of black paint to the administration building some evening, and — beginning with the superintendent’s office — paint a big black “X” on every other door.

The next morning everyone with an “X” on their door will be out the door.

Do we really need a superintendent and an assistant superintendent?

The only people who will answer “yes” to that question are probably the superintendent and his assistant.

The same is true with coaches.

Joe Golding won four state championships at Wichita Falls High School with two assistant coaches. One coached the back. The other coached the line.

I saw a team from another town come to Memorial Stadium one night with 18 players, 14 coaches and 24 cheerleaders.

I wonder how many assistant superintendents and unnecessary administrators that school had.

Save the teachers.

Cut the fat.

I woke up Sunday morning sick and tired of basketball.

I have watched way too much thump-thump this past month.

I am tired of hearing about dribble penetration.

Please, no more mention of ball screens.

Give me those red-hot Rangers, the Masters and maybe a little bit of NASCAR.

Hey, the NFL Draft is just around the corner.

But because I had nothing better to do on Sunday evening, I turned on ESPN and watched the women’s final four.

It only took a couple of hours for me to fall in love with hoops again.

Texas A&M’s rally to beat Stanford was as good as any TV game I have seen this year.

And then Notre Dame pulls off a real shocker, knocking off UConn.

So I will be watching tonight and pulling for Butler to win the men’s title.

But the game I really want to see is the irish vs. the Aggies on Tuesday night.

Notre Dame vs. Texas A&M playing for a national championship in women’s basketball.

Do you think Knute Rockne and Bear Bryant have rolled over in their graves yet?

Some people live and die and probably never realize the impact they had on another person’s life.

Deedy Wolston, who died back on March 17, played a major role in who I am today.

When I was a little kid growing up in Wichita Falls, I read the sports page of this newspaper every day.

Deedy was the main local sports columnist.

And I read every word he wrote, clipped the stories and photos from the paper and kept them all in a shoebox.

Although Deedy left the newspaper business at an early age, he still left his fingerprints on the Times Record News through that little boy who followed after him.

But it wasn’t just Deedy the sports writer than impacted my life.

After leaving the newspaper business, Deedy went to work for the Texas Rehabilitation Commission.

While there, he helped a young man, who had his right hand mangled in a car wreck, get help financial aid from the state to pay his way through college at Midwestern State.

That young man was me.

Deedy helped me get my journalism degree than turned into what is now a 39-year career as a sports writer.

Rest in peace, my friend.

And thank you so much.