Retired printer Cal Deshong will be 93 years old on Nov. 24.
By TOM MOORE
Well, here we are for the eighth year at the Roy Hobbs World Series in Ft. Meyers.
The series for amateur baseball players from 25 to 80 is in its 23 year and with more than 200 teams from all over the country, plus one or two from over
seas, one of the most successful.
And the more I see of it, the more I’m amazed at how smooth thing usually go…and the credit for that goes to the boss…former Beacon Journal sports editor Tom Giffen.
From my observations, it begins with early planning in Akron where the Hobbs outfit is located on Peninsula Road in the Valley.
And the rough edges are ironed out as things progress—even extending to the actually series.
Teams register during the year for the different divisions (determined by age).
Its hard ball and wooden bats. Teams play four games and then are seeded from 4A to B for the championship play.
Umpires are professionals and most make their living umpiring college and high school game. And the fields are as professional as you can get—short of playing in a Major League stadium.
The facilities are the spring training sites for the Boston Red Sox and the Minnesota twins.
As one of the older players dressed in his baseball uniform said to me: “when I got into center field in the stadium with all those trappings I felt like I was 18 again!”
That feeling is what makes the players come back again and again.
They are able to pursue their passion for the game as long as they are physically able…moving up into another age division with the “young, old boys” taking part in the “timeless division”.
Of course a great part of the success depends on Tom’s support staff..which is “major league and why not? I’m one of that staff.
Wife Ellen is in charge of the concessions and the gift shop. And the Number one guy is Rob Giffen, Tom’s son.
The main reason I come back and enjoy whatever has to be done, is the people I meet and the stories I get to write.
Spent too many years tied to a
desk…22 years as a news editor. I did the job for all that time between people Knight Ridder brought in but never got that title…had to settle on assistant and deputy.
Now, it’s so much fun to write about the folks I meet here. For instance, the story now on the blog about Bill Dillion who spent 27 years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.
And last year, I interviewed and wrote a story about former Boston Red Sox pitcher “Oil Can” Boyd.
And there was a story in which a player slid into home, but missed the plate about 2 feet—except his teeth flew out of his mouth and crossed the bag. He tried to argue that he was safe because part of him scored. Needless to say, he lost the argument.
One player related a story to me. He got a hit and his teammates were shouting “Run, Run!” . His 15-year-old son was nearby and he shouted “Hobble, Dad, Hobble!”
Then there was a husband and wife who played on the same team.
Where else could you meet a ballplayer who raises mastiffs, those huge dogs? Seems he had two and they had 9 pups. So he named the father, pitcher and the mom, catcher. Each of the pups got a baseball name—first base, 2nd base, etc.
If somebody had told me I’d wind up a sports writer, I’d have said no way.
Before the Hobbs gig, the only sports I wrote about was in the Air Force when my sports editor was sent overseas and I had to fly with our football team and write about the games.
My second sports stint was at the Lorain Journal where I filled in for two weeks when the sports editor went on vacation.
I hope to keep coming back as long as my health holds up.
It keeps me young, off the streets and out of bars.
at his Highland Square home. He also does organ recitals. The next one will be 4 p.m. Sunday, March 18, 2012 at New Life Episcopal Church.
“like a baby born in a new world.”
accounts for the baseball tournament run by former BJ sports editor Tom Giffen. It's the 23rd year for the tournament named after the Robert Redford character in "The Natural" movie.
where he received an honorable discharge.
the Press Club of Cleveland. They will be honored at a dnner at 7 p.m. Friday, October 28, at LaCentre, 25777 Detroit Road, Westlake.Mark Medici, vice president of audience for The Dallas Morning News, said Monday during a talk at the Inland Press Association conference in Chicago that the newspaper won’t print seven days a week in three years. Describing the News’ paid content strategy — the site’s paywall went up in March — Medici said, according to a live blog of the event, that the A.H. Belo-owned newspaper has seen a massive uptick in Sunday subscribers, “which is fine because we know in three years we won’t have a seven-day paper.” Sunday subscribers get full access to the website. (Thanks to Alan English, executive editor of The Augusta Chronicle, for alerting us via tweet). In March 2009, The Detroit Free Press (owned by Gannett) and The Detroit News (a MediaNews paper) started to deliver papers only three days a week — Thursdays, Fridays and Sundays, when the papers have more ads and are popular with readers — although the papers are available every day on newsstands.
I know it has been quite a while since I’ve seen many of you, but I thought I’d drop a note to let you know that I’ll soon be joining the ranks of the retirees.
It’s not by choice, mind you, but there’s no denying that it’s time for me to go. I leave with little ego boost in knowing that the current management finds me wholly irreplaceable. I agonize for those whom I have had the humble pleasure of serving; no matter how often I was taken for granted, I still don’t wish upon these fine folks the hurdles and hassles that so many will face in my absence.
It didn’t have to be this way. I won’t point the blame at any particular person; suffice it to say that decisions were made over the last decade or so to allow me to fall into disgraceful disrepair. I don’t mean to do it, but I drop chunks of concrete left and right these days. I drip some weird white chemical substance, unintentionally marking the cars with stains to remember me by. I’m a decrepit old pile. I think we all know that folks like Jack Knight and Ben Maidenburg would be appalled to see me like this.
You might say that I’ve endured more physical stress than any Beacon employee ever had to, but the presses might disagree with me. I was happy to give you shelter, a somewhat safe place to stash your car. Dial it back a few decades and my disappearance wouldn’t be such a huge deal. Remember how plentiful downtown parking was in the 70s and 80s?
And through it all I remember everything. Yes, EVERYTHING. Countless Fran Murphey naps in her car. Fireworks and barbecues. I remember one couple even got engaged here. Then there were the sometimes brutal Northeast Ohio winters when the homeless huddled in my stairwells. There were fender benders and maybe even a few plain old benders. But I’m not going to dish on anyone (I hear some of you breathing a sigh of relief). I was happy to be both an exercise track and a smoking buddy. I had a great job, watching all of you coming and going. Keeping something secure for you in the meantime. In my own mind, I had a sign over my entrance along the lines of the famous Riviera Lanes placard, only mine said “Through these gates drive the world’s greatest newspaper people.”
On some level, I am certain that it is time to check out. Aw, heck, on EVERY one of my levels it is clear. I leave with the comfort of having realized the answer to the Shakespearean question. The answer for me is NOT 2B! Still I depart with fond memories of all of you.
Gosh, it’s been a real pleasure.
Sincerely,
The Parking Deck
