It certainly wasn’t the way we drew it up, but I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.
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-moose
Author Archives: Moose
Moose on the Juice, Part 2
“You set ’em up, and I’ll knock ’em back, Lloyd, one-by-one.”
Like a bowling ball to a set of freshly-crowned pins, I have now knocked down 10 daily complimentary beverages from the Circle K corporation, as part of my larger (more modest, cost-efficient) “Moose on the Juice” journey to sample as many different drinks as I can during a summer of much personal change.
Life has many doors, but alas, a tasty beverage is waiting behind each one.
Here’s a brief rundown of the refreshments I’ve claimed from the “Sip and Save” program in the past 10 days:
The Great Shirley Temple Excursion
On Days 1 and 10 of the experiment, I’ve gone to my old standby when drinking my choice of soft beverages: the “Shirley Temple,” as named after the child movie star (who notably was not a fan of the drink).
I used to drink a lot of Shirley Temples as a late teenager when I went out to dinner with my Dad, who would always order a Budweiser in a bottle at our beloved “Round the Corner Pub” in New Palestine.
My decision to order Shirley Temples, which felt like adult cocktails in a way, was, in a sense, our own way to sit “at a bar” together, even though I was only 18 when he passed away. Shirley Temples were common choices from me in those days where I was starting to feel like an adult for the first time, in Dad’s presence, and hoping to become my own adult before too long. I was editor of the school magazine, I was getting more attention from cute girls, and big things were awaiting me in college at Indiana University. Each sip of Shirley tasted like another step forward to a great future awaiting me somewhere, someday soon.
Anyways, that was 13 years ago, and now I’m blogging about sodas.
As I mentioned in our first post together, the traditional Shirley Temple beverage was originally served in ginger ale or club soda, but more commonly Sprite today, with a splash of cherry grenadine syrup for flavor. But since three of these options are not available at my Circle K, I make do with Sprite and a good dose of Mountain Dew Code Red.
Either way, I think an appealing aspect of these Franken-beverages is that you get all that flavor with very little caffeine, comparatively speaking, even with a Code Red back, because of the caffeine-free Sprite.
There was some New York Times article a week or two back declaring the “dirty” Shirley Temple 2022’s “drink of the summer,” and I really don’t know what to make of writing like that. Of course, it’s passing culture analysis, but I feel like there has to be some sort of official board or doctorate committee that makes such a bold claim.
Perhaps it hits on a different, more existential aspect of the media industry to me: even for one of the most prestigious news outlets in the world, imagine writing about soda pop when some of your colleagues are getting shot at in war zones or bearing witness to a literal insurrection. Nothing to answer or explain right now. I just sit with that personally as a guy who went to journalism school with a lot of talented folks, but prefers to use his powers to examine microscopic salts by the grain in the name of documenting a beach of low-culture gas station products while they’re off winning Pulitzers and saving democracy and shit.
It’s not an insecurity thing so much as it kinda makes me feel like a sort of media clown.
But I’m a damn good clown. Honk!
Anyways, Shirley Temples are the drink I’ve had the most thus far during this “Moose on the Juice” quest — at 2, since I’m not trying to do repeats — and they might very well prove to be my own “drink of the summer.” We’ll see how many I have, as well as if I want to turn a few into Dirty Shirleys.
Comfort Colas
Generally speaking, I prefer more exotic and fruity soft drinks (Sprite, Mountain Dew variants, Lemonade) compared to caramel-based colas (Coke, Pepsi, Dr. Pepper) that tend to share the soda market in equal regard. I’m more likely to enjoy something that tastes like tropical candy instead of savory chocolate.
That said, not every day can be the same (nor should it be), so I took to a few traditional name-brand colas as reliable standbys when I was either feeling tired because of real-life situations or simply unimpressed by the options a certain Circle K location (looking at you, South Walnut Street) had offered me on any given day.
I leaned on Coca-Cola classic, Diet Coke, Cherry Coke, and Big Red cream soda on these days, which usually included some degree of self-care. Trying to review such prominent, familiar sodas (Big Red perhaps being a minor celebrity in this entourage) seems like a futile task. How does one review something so commonplace, like pepperoni pizza or chocolate ice cream?
Well, you get someone else to do it.
In the words of pop artist and yinzer Andy Warhol:
“You can be watching TV and see Coca-Cola, and you know that the President drinks Coke, Liz Taylor drinks Coke, and just think, you can drink Coke, too. A Coke is a Coke and no amount of money can get you a better Coke than the one the bum on the corner is drinking. All the Cokes are the same and all the Cokes are good. Liz Taylor knows it, the President knows it, the bum knows it, and you know it.”
So yeah. You already know they’re good.
‘Frosters’
I understand that each convenience store chain needs their own version of a frozen drink, something that avoids the copyrights of the eponymous “Slushee,” “Slurpee,” and “ICEE” brands, but Circle K’s name brand of “Frosters” leaves much to be desired in the name. Imagine a Wendy’s Frosty, but less fun!
That said, I’m out to do my due diligence in sampling, so I’m pleased to report back on two Froster experiences from separate Circle K locations in town:
1. “Orange Creme”
I made a venture to the Kirkwood Avenue Circle K to try their rumored slushy machine as my first, after a hot tip from my home location. One might assume (I did, and I’m an idiot) that the “Orange Creme” concoction would taste like the familiar “creamsicle” (aka Dreamsicle) frozen pop, which bears a healthy dose of vanilla to counteract a relatively mild but robust orange fruit flavor.
Nope. The Orange Creme slushy is pure tartness, very closely akin to the classic (but way different) orange “Push Pop” served in elementary school cafeterias and budget-saavy birthday parties all across childhood. Which isn’t a bad thing! It’s just way off from what my palate was expecting. Like expecting a sip of coffee and getting toothpaste. Just a major surprise.
(I drank the entire thing happily, once I knew what to expect.)
2. Blue Razz / Laffy Taffy / Mountain Dew
The next day, I went to a different Circle K, one on 17th Street where I once got a phone call a few years back telling me I didn’t get a coveted marketing job downtown, and popped inside to see what they had to offer me in terms of refreshments and memory overwriting.
On tap for slushies, they had Blue Raspberry, “tropical” Laffy Taffy, Mountain Dew, and Coca-Cola (out of order). So I got the former three options together as a bastard-sort of flavor mix, which worked extremely well!
Almost instantly, the three foamy flavors (at three separate consistencies) mushed together to form a miasma of taste, the byproduct aroma and flavor seeming identical to a freshly opened packet of gummy bears. I strongly preferred this to the Orange Creme option, if only because I knew (to some degree) more what I was getting into. I drank it on a humid, overcast day and watched NASCAR action in my room.
That said, I’d happily drink either slushy again! Circle K slushee sizes (I will not say “Froster”) are generous as well, so no matter what you’re getting, there’s a least a great chance you’ll get your money’s worth. It could be flavorless crushed ice, and you’d still be getting a bargain.
‘Purple Thunder’
Right now, Circle K is big on promoting a special blend of Mountain Dew unique to their chain called “Purple Thunder.” Not to be confused with some stupid nickname your father would assign himself while playing pickup basketball in the driveway, Purple Thunder is themed like a big, obnoxious motorcycle you’d see in a hot rod magazine, and flavored like “berry plum” with a hint of gumdrop spice.
True to form, it’s not available on tap at my home store — another “out of order” flavor — so I had to track it down at the campus Circle K location.
Frankly speaking, it looks like lean, or “Purple Drank,” the unmistakable party drug/drink of codeine, cough syrup, and cola. Add a few Jolly Ranchers and any discerning staff member might hide the remaining cough syrup in the C-store.
Generally speaking, I love all of the variants of Mountain Dew (Code Red cherry, Livewire orange, Major Melon watermelon, Spark raspberry lemonade, and more), and Purple Thunder fits right in with this family of enjoyable sips. It tastes like the spicy end of discount purple jellybeans, but they’re just fine in my book. Plum isn’t a flavor I’m used to experiencing in soda, so once you get past the inevitable Christmas season flashback associations, it’s pretty good! And I’ll probably get Purple Thunder again.
What’s Next?
There are still three weeks to go in the “Moose on the Juice” sip-and-save tasting journey, and I hope to cover the following topics in the coming 21 days:
- Coffee selections, both hot and iced, since they are also included in the deal
- The apparent big plans awaiting my local Circle K (gasp!)
- Visiting every Circle K store in town (I have now visited 4 of 7 — “home, campus, Kirkwood and 17th street”), plus the two locations in nearby Ellettsville
- Finding the location with the most working drink faucets, then trying all of them at once (Day 31)
Want me to try something in particular? Got a question or special recipe to offer? Maybe just some random thoughts? Drop a line in the Moose Mailbag and I’ll write back here in a future post. 🙂
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-moose
PS: Like what you’re reading? Want to buy me a Polar Pop? Feel free to donate $1.19 (or whatever) to this career writer who wants to spread a little joy to this sick puppy of an Earth while he’s between jobs. Totally optional. I spent $120 yesterday to renew my WordPress Premium so I can provide this content free of charge for the next year. Writing is worth that to me. 🙂 I hope you enjoyed the read.
Patrons of the Juice:
Jack McGrew, Jim Banta
Moose on the Juice (Part 1)
Here’s an enlightening message that has stuck with me since my first days in a journalism classroom:
“If you see it, it’s a good story. If you take notes, it’s journalism.“
Anyway, that tidbit from Laura Moore’s “Intro to Journalism” high school class circa 2006 is prologue for my latest bullshit: exploiting even more benign promotions from corporations who don’t know I exist.
I’m planning to sample all the Polar Pops from Circle K over the next month, and none of you motherfuckers can stop me! You’ll never take me alive, pigs!
I’ve been on the hunt for quality refreshment that won’t break the bank now that summer has returned. I got a fresh case of CPAP dry mouth (in addition to the “usual” dry mouth), and my arm-sweat “pitters” are certainly not quitters. Continue reading
Tracksuits and Tenderloins
THE ALLEY BETWEEN ATLAS AND THE BACK DOOR — I didn’t expect to have a big day, but Saturdays like these are meant to be savored.
ACT I
Friday’s big show wore me out, and I still had hours of grading in front of me to finish up the semester. I mentally told myself we wouldn’t be socializing on Saturday, but gracious weather and friendly neighbors got the better of me.
I stepped outside in the late afternoon to get some grilling in, as thunderstorms were slated in the forecast around 6. I threw a Smithfield pork tenderloin on direct heat, and I didn’t even get my first sear into the meat before neighbors Emily and Eric brought over some lawn chairs (and their ~14? month old dog Schenley) to hang out for a little bit. I sometimes see the three across my yard, as they rent an apartment with a rear-kitchen view into my backyard. The only thing stopping us from hanging out is a legal side street, which really just means looking both ways before saying “hello!” Continue reading
Morning Coffee: April 30, 2022
THE PIT — Thirty-one years old and still doing this shit.
Last night, my friend-to-the-blog Kris invited me to support our buddies in the band “HELLBENDER” at a local music show. It was a DIY event held in a community arts space with a hilarious name with all the proceeds going to a beloved friend of the social circle.
There was a point in my life where I would go to house shows or local shows every weekend, but I was a geeky 18-year-old with lots of energy then. I’ve been more in the habit of stadium shows and bar bands instead, for some reason.
Last night, it felt like I was back. And in a way, after so much off-and-on with COVID, it felt like everyone in attendance felt like they were back. Continue reading
Morning Coffee: April 26
THE OTHER SIDE OF LITTLE FIVE — Last Friday night (~1 a.m. Saturday morning), four people were shot across two downtown Bloomington locations: First came the news of three people shot at Kalao, a new rum bar/nightclub with an exotic atmosphere in the former Japonee building on North Walnut Street, and then reports of another person shot outside the public library on our beloved Kirkwood Avenue.
Thankfully, each of the wounded victims survived, but police still don’t know if the events are related.
Moments before gunshots broke out, my housemates and I had been driving around the greater Bloomington area to people-watch and get a few laughs in. I waved at people and talked to them in funny voices, and was generally reveling in as much fun as a nearly 32-year-old could have on a night that looks like the Apocalypse. I was nearing my fill, and the car crew dropped me off at the house so I could get some rest.
The moment I crawled into bed, I got this haunting series of messages:
Two of my fall-semester students work at Kalao.
My heart sank. My jaw fell. My blood began to go numb. I fell back in bed and closed my eyes. Please God, don’t let my students die.
Rarely, if ever, had we so brazenly and openly encountered live gunfire in the densest stretch of the city, let alone during the busiest part of the year. It was our worst fears, actualized, yet again, after all the sad things that have already happened here before in the form of missing and murdered students.
These shootings were a another emotional setback to our attempted best efforts as Bloomingtonians and IU alumni to take care of young residents during a volatile weekend.
And so it was that I stayed up until 5 a.m., listening to a free police scanner app, hoping my Kalao students were still alive, maybe even home safe themselves, as the rest of downtown panicked between a lack of public messaging and other bars locking down for immediate safety.
Doesn’t feel like it has to be this way.
I’ve lived in Bloomington for 13 years now. Our best efforts still seem to land us in the darkest timeline, if only momentarily, with each passing April.
I’m extremely grateful nobody is dead, and that my students at Kalao are seemingly OK (physically, at least), but it’s safe to say this past weekend was a scary time for Bloomington.
All I want is for everyone to have a good, safe time during Little 500. My attitude may seem simplistic, but it doesn’t seem like our current reality has to be so difficult.
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-moose
Morning Coffee: April 19
NEAR DOWNTOWN, BLOOMINGTON — I’d like to announce a new writing format here at Moose on the Loose called “Morning Coffee,” where I set to exercising my creative muscles every day. I’m going to share whatever concepts and thought-debris enter my mind while I’m having my breakfast caffeine (usually, black coffee from the home drip machine), and share the results for your perusal.
As usual, I do have a mailbag where you can share your thoughts to discuss here on the blog as well.
But that’s enough shilling for now — it’s coffee time:
Springtime in Bloomington
Warmer weather and the natural changes that come with it are in full-force here in B-Town:
I recently counted something to the tune of 220 daffodils in my backyard, mostly around the persimmon tree standing in the middle of everything. A few are tucked beside the shed, in an eerily straight line for an organic growth pattern. They were shining brightest a week ago, but they’ve since wilted after some 3 or 4 consecutive days of surprise sleet storms. The yellow bastards are still hanging around, but seeming a tad depressed at the weather’s volatility (so say us all).
Two mourning doves quietly made a nest in an unused hanging flowerpot on our porch a few weeks back, where they’ve been diligently managing an unknown number of eggs. The nest sits directly above our trash and recycling cans, so we’re doing our best around the house not to be complete assholes by slamming lids or breaking dozens of beer bottles at once while they’re trying to rest with their kids. They used to skitter at the horrific sound when the nest was being built, but they’re more unshakeable now in the late gestation process. One of the housemates told me the eggs hatched over the weekend, but I haven’t had time to look — I’ll give the new family some privacy as they spend its first days together.
The deer are back, too. Bloomington’s urban deer phenomenon makes it common to see small family units in the near-downtown parks, and in the city itself with some frequency. From what I’ve seen around my post, the deer are nomadic grazers who tend to follow the brushy overgrowth greens of a north-south power line that separates properties in lieu of a consistent alley. This gives the deer a seemingly nonstop source of food (and shade), and perhaps a more organized pathway to finding quaint, lush garden beds for their snacking perusal.
Tooth and Nail
I’ve got some dental work coming up on Friday morning, and I’m slowly becoming more candy-dipped in dread about it. By this point, I should be enough of a “tough guy” at face value to manage some cavity fillings: I’m proud of how I’ve been able to handle tattoos, piercings, stitches, and a particularly invasive inpatient surgery that had me on my ass in March 2017.
I don’t know what it is about the dentist that extrapolates the dread, though. Maybe it’s the whirring machinery in one’s mouth. Maybe it’s the passive-aggressive “advice” given by a professional who must also remind you, like your mother did countless times, to brush your teeth before bed.
There’s some sort of stigma about getting cavities that really makes me feel like an idiot. People who never get cavities are the equivalent of straight-A students, and the rest of us who have imperfect mouths inevitably get some little “uh-oh!” taunt/remark from someone who thinks they know better. I swear to God, this is a thing. (Can you tell I’m all worked up in my head about getting dental work done?)
Anyways, plugging four (4) holes in my mouth and dropping $300 is apparently the very first thing I gotta do this Little 500 weekend. Hell of a start to an otherwise sun-drenched party session in my neighborhood. I don’t think my mouth will be aching too much to enjoy a cold beer, but that’s not the way I wanted to kick things off.
Sliding Into a Deal
With the cost of everything worth anything going up so much in the past few months due to some variety of horror-induced inflation, I’ve been using the keen eye for bargains I inherited from my mother when it comes to cheap eats around town to save some money where I can.
The local Arby’s does the 2-5 p.m. “Happy Hour” deal where all sliders, small fries, small drinks, cookies, and shakes are $1 a piece (instead of $2 or whatever they normally are). I’m the sort of guy who can eat the same thing every day, so I get three buffalo sliders (a chicken tender slathered in Frank’s RedHot and placed on a bun) and fill up on “wings.” It’s a surprising amount of food for $3.24 after tax.
My closest Kroger also runs a $5 chicken lunch meal deal, which comes with two tenders the size of small mugs and two sides. I’m buddy-buddy with the person who runs the deli counter, and she usually fills up my sides (mac and cheese; mashed potatoes) beyond the capacity of what should be attainable by a thick plastic food container. This all comes with a roll and free dipping sauces, and it’s usually enough to keep me fed all day on a single meal, if I get it for lunch.
I’ve also been a big proponent of picking up pizzas when possible in lieu of delivery. It’s crazy how quickly a $7.99 two-topping special can become something like $21.99 after delivery and tip, especially on apps like DoorDash and UberEats. At that rate, I’d rather just pick it up, tell the folks who made the food “thank you” to their faces, and tip $2 for their time.
I would feel more guilty about regularly being such a thrifty shitbag if these places were an independent restaurant or locally sourced joint, but they’re not: we’re talking basic food service products from massive corporations.
The food’s probably going to kill me anyway, and I’m here talking about saving a few pennies. Don’t listen to what I say. I don’t make sense like that sometimes.
It’s whatever. I’m fine.
I just need another cup of coffee, it seems.
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-moose
Top of the 1st
During the same hour MLB commissioner Rob Manfred declared that major-league games would be canceled due to the impasse between the league owners and its players union — around 5:24 p.m. Eastern on Tuesday — everything was somehow serendipitously right with Indiana Baseball.
It was a saccharine day in Bloomington, a sunny and comparably scorching 67°F mark for the 1st day of March. Fans flocked to Bart Kaufman Field in abnormally high numbers for a 4 p.m. weekday pitch against Miami (Ohio), this being their first opportunity to see the Hoosiers in person since March of 2020 due to COVID restrictions.
The 710-day wait was over.
IU freshman Luke Hayden, a pitching ace whose star was found just 6.7 miles from “The Bart” at nearby Edgewood High School, was making his first start on the mound for a team he certainly must have dreamed of playing for.
He threw the first “first” pitch of his IU career at 4:03 p.m. Forty-three more pitches and a few minutes later, he had pocketed two shutout innings and three cool strikeouts to the sun-kissed crowd’s delight.
First-baseman Brock Tibbitts got in on the action too, smacking a 3-run homer in the 2nd inning that seemed to threaten the architecture of the Unitarian Universalist Church across Fee Lane, and added another soaring home run in the 5th for good measure.
The Hoosiers, which had entered Tuesday’s contest with a lowly, frustrating 1-5 start to the season, were beating up on the RedHawks, 10-2.
The matinee game was also the first time IU fans could purchase alcohol at a baseball game – an announcement made Monday afternoon – and it was more common to see attendees carrying the maximum allotment of two cans rather than one.
The combination of baseball’s essential, if not romantic aspects – beautiful weather, lovable players, dazzling plays, a winning home team, and of course, cold beer – worked together to weave history into the evening: Tuesday’s attendance of 1,984 at Bart Kaufman Field smashed 2016’s previous home-opener record of 1,609, according to Greg Campbell, IU’s assistant director of strategic communications.
If only for Tuesday night, the Hoosiers’ cup runneth over at nearly the exact time when Major League Baseball announced a drought – professional baseball’s annually anticipated Opening Day ceremonies will not happen as planned on March 31, and that regular-season games would be canceled indefinitely until the league owners and the players association agree to terms.
The MLB and college baseball are surging in two different directions, and IU’s performance Tuesday illustrated the highs of college baseball’s cultural crest in Indiana, a state with many regional tribes of “fans” (Cubs, White Sox, Reds, Cardinals), but no major-league team for the Hoosier State to call its own, despite a “great effort” from the prospective Indianapolis Arrows in 1985.
After the game – a whopping 15-2 IU win inspired by another Hoosier dinger by catcher Matthew Ellis and some opportunistic late-game base-running – I asked Indiana head coach Jeff Mercer if his players were considering how the shifting weight of baseball’s fandom might affect college baseball, and as such, their attitudes around the game:
“I don’t know if it’s a topic we’ve discussed as much, but you can definitely feel a sense of excitement about college baseball in general,” he said, before comparing it to his time as a player for Dayton and Wright State.
“Every year since I’ve played, which isn’t that long ago, college baseball has really exploded in popularity, and I think there’s multiple reasons. You look at the level of competition, college baseball has improved transcendentally. … In the past 5 or 10 years, with the caliber of players, the caliber of the game, everybody has turf fields now…you’re really able to go out and compete at a high level, and that’s an exciting brand of baseball.”
IU’s skipper then tied it together succinctly:
“If Major League Baseball is not going to get it together, then I guess college baseball can help fill that void a little bit,” he said. “That’s a great thing for everybody in our sport.”
This is SportsCenter
The win improved the Hoosiers to 2-5. The RedHawks fell to 3-4. Indiana will travel to Springfield, Missouri, this weekend for a three-game series at Missouri State. IU’s next home game is scheduled for 4 p.m. Tuesday, March 8, against Cincinnati.
Getting Into the Spirit(s)
Whether it’s simply the novelty in being new, or the inherent attraction in being America’s favorite vice, folks on social media were immediately curious to learn more about IU’s rollout of alcoholic beverages for baseball and softball games this spring.
Alcohol sales, with the exception of a few hospitality suites across the IU’s sports and event pantheon, were prohibited for sale to the public at Hoosier sports events until the 2021 football season this past fall.
Naturally, these slow-drip rollouts have lead to sustained anticipation to the thirstier fans among Hoosier Nation, so I’d like to publicly offer a de facto beer menu, based on my personal observation around Bart Kaufman Stadium on Tuesday evening:
- $8: Bud Light (pint), Coors Light (pint), Naked Barrel Hard Seltzer (12-ounce can)
- $9: Upland Dragonfly IPA (pint), Upland Wheat Ale (pint)
These are also the exact same beer choices and prices I witnessed from general vendors when IU football hosted No. 8 Cincinnati on September 18, 2021 – an 88-degree day of direct, blistering sunlight – as well as a few other games from the private bars of Touchdown Terrace in the South End Zone of Memorial Stadium.
I include this information to suggest, with casual empirical observation, that IU Athletics maintains a consistent pricing structure for alcohol across all sorts that might sell it, and refrains from price-gouging based on the importance of the matchup. There’s not really an “Ethics in Beer Prices” investigative journalism beat, but believe you me, I’d be more than happy to take that job, should someone pay me for it.
Okay, that’s enough about beer. I’m getting thirsty.
Scraps from the Notebook:
- Footlong hot dogs are $8.00 at Bart Kaufman Field concession stands, while standard-length hot dogs are $5. A pretzel with cheese is $6, but a plain pretzel is $5. Hamburgers and cheeseburgers, strangely, are the same price, at $7 each.
- The first “please drink responsibly” public address announcement came at the end of the first inning, just 14 minutes after the first pitch, at 4:17 p.m. Don Henley’s “Boys of Summer” played afterwards.
- BTN+ broadcast commentator Hank Joseph speaking to the depth of baseball fans’ emotions behind the pending MLB lockout: “I don’t think ‘upset’ would be anywhere near the right term to use.”
Playing by the Rules
Before I go too much further with this first installment of “From Left Field,” I’d like to take a moment to spell out my ethical consideration in writing these features.
My original plan, as a common IU sports fan, was to attend baseball and softball games from the stands and take notes from my seat. I’d use my “CrimsonCard” ID, which lets me into games for free as an adjunct instructor, and write what comes to mind. The resulting piece you read now would be a byproduct of that.
I reached out to the people in charge of IU baseball’s media access (as mentioned earlier) and got a receptive nod for credentials that let me into the press booth on Tuesday. This offer is prospectively open for future games, should this arrangement work out. I’m appreciative to have a privilege of access that many aspiring writers cannot simply ask for.
That said, I did take some time to step out of the press box and sit in general admission with the proletariat fan: I popped by first base, third base, just behind catcher, and all the way out to the right field picnic section to see what people were saying, in order to get a compellingly authentic experience. Some quotes from these illustrative scenes may return later on.
The important thing is this: I’m not writing this for anyone but me. I’m not currently employed by any other media publication. I don’t get paid by the article, nor the click, nor the retweet. I don’t have a Patreon, and I’m not trying to trip upwards into publication by a mass media outlet. I’m writing for writing’s sake over here: You can’t fake it and you can’t buy it. I’m talking about the real goddamned deal.
But you’re welcome to read it, of course.
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-moose
PS: If you are the sort of person who feels like pitching some funds my way in the name of more adventure and spirited writing, I do have Venmo and PayPal accounts. Some folks are crazy enough to become an official WordPress supporter. It’s whatever. Words are free. I just hope you liked a few of mine today.
On Deck: “From Left Field”
BLOOMINGTON, Ind. — The job industry is a gong-show, nuclear annihilation is back on our doorsteps, and Year 3 of the 2019 pandemic has crept in through the back door like a guilty drunk.
…So, who’d like to chat a little baseball?
I’ve never claimed to have any of the answers. And if the answers were easy, we’d probably have them by now. But I would like to announce a new writing project called “From Left Field,” where I ruminate on the social issues du-jour (in whatever hellish format they may arrive) while watching America’s pastime.
This spring, Major League Baseball seems likely to be locked out, which is its own jar of worms. But I have the privilege of living (and working) in a Big Ten town, which means I can see the Indiana Hoosiers baseball and softball teams for free when they play at home.
“The main idea is this,” as I described it to IU baseball’s communication director, “In lieu of traditional game coverage, I would like to occasionally cover the IU baseball team in search of metaphor and anecdote that illustrates much of what’s on people’s minds right now — which might be anything from a particularly poetic performance from a player who needed a big game, or say, fans embracing college baseball with the MLB facing an imminent lockout, or returning to outdoor games post-pandemic, etc.”
I do plan to check out some softball as well. As a matter of transparency, I just haven’t gotten hold of their communications director yet.
What’s most interesting about this all is that I didn’t even grow up a baseball fan. It took some convincing. I didn’t grow up in a state with an MLB team, and my father outright hated the casual, often unserious tone of the game. “They run a little and then they need a break,” he’d argue.
Alas, once I started working the sports desk for a newspaper, I learned about box scores and bullpens and bunts and balks and bloops and all sorts of seemingly made-up words. And though I won’t claim to be a cultish fanatic of either game, I do see the romanticism in baseball and softball. There’s much time to think, and with time to think comes time to feel. And that’s where the heavy lifting of this life is done: our feelings.
Oh well, I won’t keep you much longer. There’s words to be found, and today’s the first home IU baseball game of the year: a 4 p.m. tilt vs. Miami (Ohio). It’s time to stare into the great void and see what stares back.
If there are topics you’d like me to consider for the “From Left Field” series, please use the suggestion box in the top right corner.
Batter up!
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-moose
60 (Minus 14)
Today would have been my late father’s 60th birthday.
I’m not yet a champion when it comes to planning content ahead of time – the realization of today’s meaning struck me an hour ago – so I wanted to spit out a few words and memories about the (6-foot-9) Big Man while I have enough coffee in my system to think straight.
I knew my father when he was between the ages of 28 and 46. Now being 31 myself, I feel like I’m just starting to understand so much about him. Continue reading
B-TOWN Moose 