Kenny Smith | A remarkable thing happens …

I found Bigfoot, he’s looking for money, same as everyone

Below the little banner is the summary of Tuesday. Here, above it, is a brief recounting of Wednesday.

I woke up, did all of the morning’s readings, did the email work. I had lunch. I had a meeting with faculty. I did more email. I wrote a message for my online class. I will send it, some 600 words of insight and updates and cheerful wisdom, tomorrow. I also finished prep for both of tomorrow’s classes. In one, we will talk about a few more typologies, I will stretch two pages of notes into 25 minutes and then we will develop questions for a survey. (I have seven of them already written down, but I’m only showing them three. Don’t tell.) In the other class we will watch a documentary. I also graded some stuff that needed grading. (Everyone did well, as expected; hopefully they’ll keep it up.)

I met with a student and solved several problems. The first problem was how to make Zoom work for both of us. The second problem was about how to do an assignment. Happy to help! The third problem: “How I am explaining something so poorly to this crop of students, when I have explained this same thing, with precisely this same language, to students in 2025 and 2024?” Parts of that problem may never be solved.

I also set up a meeting for Friday. Now I have two Friday meetings. One is at a very precise time, because faculty are keen on precision of schedules. The other is right now “friday works !” But, dear student, Friday does not work. A specific time would work. It is to be a Zoom meeting, sure, but I’ve done the sit in front of a Zoom window waiting for someone to show up all day thing a few times (ahhhh, 2020 …) and that’s too big an ask at this point. Open up your daily planner and figure out a good, specific time and we will have a grand and productive chat.

We’ll get there.

After all of this, it was time to catch up on the evening’s worth of reading.

I do a lot of reading. I think more of it is going to start coming from international media, and also books.

Do not get me started on the Washington Post, lest I bring out my press section banner and write a thousand brisk words about the obvious incompatibility between oligarchs and watchdog journalism, and the cute way little masthead slogans presage the ending of legacy media.

Instead, yesterday!

This was the view on the way to campus Tuesday. Everything looks exactly like this. This all fell from the sky Saturday night and Sunday a week ago. Monday, I helped a neighbor dig out their sidewalk, because this stuff is going nowhere. The longterm useless forecast says we might see 39 degrees Wednesday of next week. Maybe 40 on Friday!

That’d be a full three weeks under 40. That seems … excessive.

In Rituals and Traditions — Rits and Trads if you’re in a hurry — we discussed why we watch sports. I had a list of typologies to share. As we talked about the reasons why people watched sports they managed to list five of the six typologies I had listed before I put them on the screen. So now I’m a magician.

Then I broke them into their groups, because group work will be an important part of the class, and we’re heading that direction rapidly now.

In my Criticism class we talked about our first two stories of the semester. We discussed this story out of Texas.

The Liga Venezolana is a local example of how the millions of Venezeulans who have scattered across the Americas have brought with them an invigorating enthusiasm for the “American Pastime.” Leaving behind a country rife with political and economic turbulence and arriving in new landscapes where they are often scapegoated in political rhetoric, they have used the sport they know best to root themselves in a sense of home.

The league immigrants have created in Austin is far from the popularly imagined recreational softball scene of on-field beers and calm. The Liga Venezolana’s fans know how to intimidate. Its teams operate social media accounts. Many of its players, like Mao, have recorded strikeouts or stolen bases as pros on minor league teams. The league keeps stats and operates livestreams. Its intensity has made it a social focal point for the fast-growing Venezuelan immigrant community that has settled in North Austin, Pflugerville, Cedar Park and Leander in recent years. Since 2021, the league has ballooned from four to 22 teams and from about 70 to 600 players.

We also talked about this story.

Dr. Christopher Ahmad, Tommy John expert and head team physician for the New York Yankees, has performed the surgery on some of the biggest names in baseball. But he has also been privy to the other side of the story.

“The alarms are going off on how devastating this problem is to the youngest players,” he says in an interview with CNN Sports.

“When I first started doing Tommy John surgery about 25 years ago, the population who I was operating on who needed the surgery were essentially very high-level players – they were college prospects destined to be professional, or professional players.

“Now, the population who needs the surgery most are kids.”

Of the 10-15 Tommy John surgeries that he performs every week, Ahmad estimates that between eight and 10 are on high school children, with some even still in middle school.

For a first week of talking about stories, the interactions were pretty good. Started strong, and faded away a bit, perhaps. But we’ll get it there.

I tried, during that class, to play some audio, but the sound was tricky. Knowing I was going to show a documentary, I stuck around to tinker with it. Eventually my lovely bride came in to look for me. Then a woman who had a later class came in to get ready. I don’t know how many degrees we all have, but it took that many degrees to solve the problem, a problem I finally figured out by … adjusting the volume.

To be fair, there are a lot of options and buttons and switches.

Opposite from the elevators in our building are TV monitors and they’re programmed with the time and weather and promoting various events and services. Pretty standard stuff, usually. Sometimes something interesting is on the screen and I can see it for 2.7 seconds, just long enough to realize it is interesting, but not long to read it all. And there are a lot of things to promote. No one, not even me, is going to stand there and wait for the interesting thing to pop back up again.

But sometimes the elevator is slow, and sometimes you can catch a good one.

That’s the total promo. No contact info, no club or school or department affiliation, no deadlines listed. But it’s intriguing enough, I guess. Unless they, whoever they are, are trying to tell people that winning a scholarship is as likely as seeing Nelly, or Bigfoot, or aliens. Clearly it raises more questions than answers. More space was needed, I guess.

Older analog styles are the way to go with sophisticated messaging that has a lot of words, or dates, or URLs. Our building doesn’t have a lot of bulletin boards, which is a bit of a shame. I love taking a few moments to read the useful things, the random things, learn about new clubs and interest groups, and enjoy the truly wacky stuff people produce for public billboards. It’s cleaner and neater, sure, but we are just a tiny bit the lesser for it.

OK, now, on Wednesday, I’ve written about Tuesday and Wednesday. You know what that means for tomorrow, then, right? Back on schedule again. You’re relieved, I can tell from here.

memories / photo / Tuesday — No comments
03
Feb 26

A well of a tale

Out and about yesterday. Errands had to be ran. I ran errands. Errands were run. Nothing to it, really. Out and about to do the things that need doing. Already I have overstated it. Oh, all right.

No. They’re errands and unremarkable in every way. No one cares.

Except to say this. I stopped at a gas station. As I was going inside, a man was coming out. He had a bag of ice under his arm. He seemed a man fixed on his business and going about his way. Passing one another in the doorway it wasn’t the time to strike up a conversation. But I wanted to have a quick chat. I wanted to ask about that ice. I bet he felt silly, since everything, everywhere, looks like this.

That’s our driveway, and this was eight days after the snow and the sleet turned into ice. It isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. And today I spent a bit of time widening it out a bit more. Just a car could narrowly pass, but you shouldn’t need to demonstrate your best driving skills leaving or returning home.

Plus we had a great big truck come by yesterday. We had a great big truck visit because of the joys of home ownership.

Let me back up. In November of 2023 I called the well company to do a regular tank maintenance. That was a first for me. I’ve never lived on a well before. The appointment was made. During the time between scheduling that visit and the guy showing up, the well start failing. Imagine a pipe spewing water like a low-stakes submarine movie scene. The guy came with his two workers and squatted down and looked at it and started moaning and sighing and muttering and I honestly thought he was having a medical episode in our basement.

Turns out he was fine, but the tank was at death’s door. We could leave it as is — and I’m still not sure why that was even presented as an option — or we could replace it that day. We chose the later, because I like things to work, and not sopping up my floors.

The new tank, he said, was a fiberglass tank. And it’ll never rust out, which was a big sales point at the time. Perhaps you can see why.

(What is that green stuff underneath the well tank?)

They put in that fiberglass tank and everything was just peachy keen. About three weeks ago, though, I started hearing a surging sound in the walls. Taking a shower, flushing the toilet, running the washer, you’d hear this sound. It was soothing, or it would have been in any context that didn’t suggest your house was about to implode.

So I called the well company again and explained all this. Talked to the owner, an older fellow who could do 10 or 12 minutes of comedy on most anything, I decided. He said he’d come on out, but could we wait until after the storm because he was backed up. He assured me that I wasn’t hurting anything by waiting, because the things that were bad weren’t getting worse.

The fiberglass tank. He had me tap on it and that’s how he knew.

His son came by yesterday, same guy that put this thing in just 27 months ago. Sure enough, the tank was done. Just as his father told me on the phone, these tanks were terrible and they were never buying and selling those again. His dad said they’d bought six, had to send four of them back. We had one of the other two. The owner said he’d been taken it in the teeth on these things. And ours was under warranty. I apologized that he was going to eat another bite of lemon, but I was glad that we weren’t buying a new one. We’d be in for labor, and that seemed fair.

So the son was here with an assistant. They took the old tank out, and put in this new one. We’ll see how susceptible it is to rusting.

Also, the new tank has a five-year warranty. And we did not pay for it, because it was a replacement for the fiberglass failure. Initially he tried to charge me for that, but we worked it out, saving about a grand in a quick and easy conversation.

I hope they don’t have to replace tanks often, because I don’t want to watch that guy lug the thing up and out of the basement, but they seem like fine fellows. Which is good, I suppose, now that we will have them back for yearly inspections.

This, just writing about yesterday, is already threatening to get long, so let’s have a few days of writing in arrears. Today is Tuesday, but I’ve written about Monday; tomorrow is Wednesday, I can write about Tuesday. Tuesday, if you can believe it, was almost as riveting as this tale. Come back and see.

cycling / Monday / photo / video — No comments
02
Feb 26

When you rebrand the weather, I am over the weather

Monday. February. Groundhog’s Day and all of that. Still snow and ice on the ground. Hasn’t budged a micro, hasn’t melted a gram. In a group chat the other day I pointed out that none of my friends back home could say anything to me about their weather until we’d been above freezing for two days in a row. As it happens, tomorrow might be the second day. It did hit 32 today. We are promised 35 for tomorrow. And so, now, another post about how the weather has impacted everything. (This snow fell 10 days ago. I’ve not had too many snows in my life where the stuff just … stayed around. I can think of two. And, quite frankly, it has lost its appeal.

Saturday around midday I was out trying to widen the driveway a bit. We’d carved out a path last week just wide enough for a vehicle and, somehow, it was only just wide enough. Well, finally I got tired of that and so I gripped the shovel firmly and determinedly, and went to work. In that time I dug out the spot behind where my car is parked in the garage, and what I estimate the space necessary behind it to do the back and turn maneuver. I also tried to chip away at a few other places that were troubling. Working up a sweat in a long-sleeved t-shirt, I used our biggest shovel to bend the ice to my will for an hour. Until, that is, my back was bent against my will.

About that time my lovely bride returned home from her morning activities and midday grocery run. We did the grocery system. She carries in an arm full of groceries and I try to carry everything else in, so she can pretend to fuss at me. In the kitchen, with all of the bags on the island, I hand her things for the refrigerator. And then I hand her the things going into the freezer. And then I hand her the things going in the pantry. Finally, I stack up the bags and put them back out in the garage for her car. There’s nothing to it, but we do this every week and it’s also important.

Speaking of the kitchen island, I happened to be in just the right place to catch this bit of anarchistic artistry.

It was how Poseidon brought the spatula to the floor, looked around and walked off. Usually, when he does cat stuff like this, he owns it. He will sit by the thing he has knocked over or broken and wait until you see it, and him with it. It’s admirable, even as it is frustrating. But, here, he just walked off. Maybe it was because a rubber spatula can’t shatter, and there’s nothing to leak.

Somehow, we both managed to stifle our laughter until he’d left the scene of the his vandalism. We wouldn’t want him to feel he was being praised for all of this, after all.

To get away from the snow and the ice — snowcrete they are calling it — I went to Tokyo for an hour or so. Saturday night, I renamed the basement “Tokyo.”

The thing about Rouvy I haven’t figured out yet is everything. This was a flat route, according to the ride profile I saw before I started pedaling. There were was a tiny bit of climbing, but nothing to write home about. The profile I saw after the ride was … lumpy.

It was 26 miles through the various parts of Tokyo. Whoever recorded this most have done so in the very early morning. There was almost no one on the roads, as you can see from that image. Also, there were a lot of red lights, and the video seemed to catch them all. It is not at all demoralizing to be pedaling your little heart out, to see your avatar pedaling his little digital heart out, but you’re not going anywhere.

Anyway, it was a good sweat. I just have to do it more. Someone motivate me.

The weather is absolutely not motivating me. It is not motivating me precisely when it should be. One day this weather will not be our weather. One day we’ll emerge from the ice age. It will not be this day, for we are still solidly, firmly, in the Pleistocene Epoch.

Right in the middle, I would assume.

Here’s the view of yesterday’s sunset from my office window.

I think I spent all day at my desk. I’m not sure what I did with all of that time. Some work was done. But there was more work to be done today. We’ll get into that tomorrow, though.

adventures / basketball / Friday / Philadelphia / photo — No comments
30
Jan 26

Starts with birds, ends with birds, has other birds in between

We — the cats and I — were watching BirbTV this morning. I might have, for a time, been more interested than the kitties. It was when this beautiful cardinal showed up. She waited patiently, and then waited some more. She approached the bird feeder, then hopped away to a distant branch, and then came back again. You’ll have to forgive the quality of the photo, I was stretching my phone’s digital zoom and shooting through a double-pane window. It was, however, a beautiful bird.

That’s looking to the east. I also stood and looked to the west, taking three photographs before the chill chased me back indoors. The windchill was three degrees. I walked out there in jeans and a long sleeve shirt and house shoes.

Pretty soon we get to the Stockholm Syndrome portion of the winter which, in this case, is when I look up the weather in Stockholm and see that it is essentially the same.

Sigh.

I had only one meeting today, which allowed me the time to catch up on the week’s reading, grading, and make sure my prep for next week is at least underway. (Sunday I’ll start next week’s reading, and Monday I’ll prepare a lecture. And this is the course of most weeks for a while. Unless I get a bolt of energy and get ahead of lecture prep. But that’s never happened, so I am not counting on it.) The meeting today was a virtual meeting.

Have you ever been in a presentation where the presenter reads from their slides? The only thing better than being in a presentation where the presenter is reading from their slides is being in a virtual presentation where the presenter is reading from their slides.

The slides, to be fair, were helpful. I downloaded them for later, and mostly kept making sure I was on mute so the giggles and chuckles didn’t break through the reading. Of the slides. Which were on the screen.

We went over the river tonight and made a little history. Unrivaled, the 3-on-3 women’s basketball league. There was a doubleheader, and also history. The crowd set a new record for attendance of a regular season women’s basketball game. There were 21,490 people announced. They watched the Breeze and the Phantom, both teams filled with stars the crowd knew.

The Phantom won, 71-68. I like the timing rules. They play on a slightly smaller court — which changes the style of play — and then play three 7-minute quarters. In the fourth quarter it’s a race, first to plus-11. At the end of the 3rd, the score was 53-60, so the first team to 71 would be the winner. That format takes out a lot of the timeout and fouling gamesmanship that characterizes the traditional version of the sport. And it adds tension, too. I assume that at that stage of the game the fatigue is setting in for one team and desperation for the other, because that race to the final score was frantic, and fun.

It’s also meant to speed up the game, which it seemed to do. But there’s a flaw in the doubleheader setup. The time between the two games was interminable, even with the assistance of the hype squad, the mic woman (who had to be paid in Red Bull, for she was, herself very hype), and also a local rapper who has a big viral hit. The second game was set to begin at 9:30, and it started at about 9:40. It was between the Rose and the Lunar Owls, which is a great team name, obviously.

Maybe there’s a media component to this, there can’t be any other reason to drag out a 9:30 start. You are certainly not waiting for anyone to get into the venue at that point. But you are getting in the way of my dinner.

The Lunar Owls won 75-85, on the strength of Marina Mabrey’s 47 points, including the game winner. She had 27 of those in the first quarter, which is a league record, and the hoop must have looked 12-feet wide for her. She’s played all over the world, but grew up about an hour away. Must have been a nice homecoming.

Anyway, back to my dinner. We ordered Chick-fil-A from a nearby store. Went through the drive-thru. They’ve updated their app and now there’s no upsell point. This is why that’s a problem. You plug in your order, put in your car, and now, instead of seeing a person, you scan a QR code when you get there. Used to be, that person would confirm the order. They’d ask “Would you like to add anything?” But now there’s not an option for that. What if you’d changed your mind? What if you needed to add something? We got our sandwiches and then went through again, just to prove the point, and also to get a milkshake.

The new app and mobile ordering process violates Smith’s First Rule of Economics (1997): Don’t make it hard for me to spend my money with you.

It’s an ironclad rule.

Rowan / Thursday / video — No comments
29
Jan 26

There’s no pattern like migratory patterns

I recorded this video, then forgot about this video. Then the platform wouldn’t let me upload the video. Then it did let me upload this video. So this Monday video is now a Thursday video. But it could just as well be from today.

These geese hang out in some fields a mile or two to the south. And they’re heading back there in this shot. They’re flying back from the sloughs a few miles to the north of here. I’m not sure their schedule, but lately they’ve been flying the other direction in the early evening.

I love the geese, and the honking. I love them because I hear them passing by, and because I don’t hear them constantly.

Let’s talk about work. That’s what that image just above is about. That’s on campus … somewhere. I do not work in that building. I haven’t seen that building.

One day, when it isn’t 5 degrees out, I’ll have to take a shot of our building to use as another banner.

I was dreading class today because I felt the need to try to cram in two days worth of material in one. Going slower is better, but owing to the weather, I feel behind, hence the urge to overfill one day. Also, these were designed as two important days.

Fortunately, I’d asked the students in my Rituals and Traditions class to write a brief paper about this topic in advance, and that told me exactly where we all are, so I can tailor the presentation and cut the superfluous. I also had a colleague stop by and talk to the class for a few minutes, just to help set the table. And so, somehow, the class moved along nicely.

Later in the afternoon I had to complete the stage setting for the Criticism class, and there’s a lot to establish at this point for the rest of the term. I prepared one slide deck out of two, and had to work through varying pages of notes all out of order, hoping to make it flow, determined to make sure it made sense.

We made it through. A lot of what we discussed, in both classes, will come up a lot throughout the term, of course. And in Criticism, at least, there aren’t a lot of lectures. As I joke, they don’t want me to lecture, and today they found out why. That class becomes more conversational and Socratic, and I’m glad for it. I just need to figure out a way to make Rits and Trads something like that, too.

Happily, it was still daylight when we left campus at 5 p.m., and a bracing 6 degrees, having warmed a full 20 percent from several hours earlier. It was dark by the time we got home, however, but the days are growing longer. In just two more weeks nautical twilight will be at 6:30, and that’s the second sign that there’s seasonal hope.

There’s eight inches of packed ice outside my window right now, so it feels like a bit of false hope, but nevertheless. The sun is telling us that winter is on its way out. We’re gonna win.