I was walking home from high school one nice spring day; the weather was so great that day that I decided not to take the bus.  When you are 15 years old a three mile walk home amounts to almost an afterthought, and if one is in a hurry you can always run home if you choose.   It was an eventful walk for, as I was cutting through a residential neighborhood, my eyes came upon a most awesome sight.  Parked in some guy’s driveway was the most macho looking car that I had ever seen.  Another 50 years have passed, and the vision of that day has never been topped.  Parked in the drive-way was a brand new shiny black 1963 Shelby Cobra, and I walked up to it to gawk at its awesome beauty.  It was a very stark looking machine, and as I stared inside the auto my eyes met with a stark matte black metal dash filled with silver Stewart Warner gauges.  The two bucket seats were jet black, with a silver steel roll cage encompassing the interior. I then noticed that there were no doors on the race car, and it was also devoid of windows.  The outside mirror was chromed, as were the shiny silver wheels that were wrapped in huge, fat tires under its flared fenders. I have just described the entire sight, except for the wondrous Ford 289 power plant that was laying in wait from the driver's seat and through that flat windshield and under its long hood.

I was shaken back to reality when a voice boomed, “Hello kid, do you know what you are looking at?”

“Sure mister”, I said.  “It is a Shelby Cobra.  I read about it in Road and Track magazine.  The title to the article said ‘Zero to 100 mph to Zero in ten seconds flat!’”

The man smiled at me and said “Catch”, and he threw the keys at me.  “Let’s go for a ride”.

“I am only fifteen”, I said.  “I do not have a drivers’ license yet!”

“Just kidding”, he said.  “Come on, let’s go around the block and I will give you a ride home.  Step right into the car, there are no doors”.

The man talked at length to me as we roared around the neighborhood and took the long way to my house.  He explained that he could have purchased a 1963 Corvette for $5800, but decided instead on the Cobra for only a thousand dollars more.  In retrospect both vehicles were excellent purchases, but the Cobra has trumped the Corvette in 2012 dollars.  A pristine 1963 Corvette (the only year of the split window coupe) is worth about $90000 today; a prime 1963 Shelby Cobra would top the $200,000 dollar mark.  He also told me that he had not read that “Road and Track” article that I had mentioned. I told him to wait a minute when he dropped me off, and I ran into my house and came back out and handed him the magazine.

“Thank you mister”, I gushed, “I will never forget that ride!”

“Thanks for the magazine kid”, he said as he roared off in that incredible machine. 

I learned that Carroll Shelby passed away yesterday morning at the age of 89, and the vision of that black beauty suddenly emerged from the recesses of my memory, as did the unbelievable ride home that I received from a very nice man so long ago.  I was compelled to share this story with you in deference to Mr. Shelby, and I hope that you have enjoyed it.  May he rest in peace.

I think that you can tell by the above video that this week’s post is going to be all over the hockey boards.  I have been trying to figure out a way to work the above video into a post of mine and, since it is Cinco De Mayo, today seems like an appropriate time to introduce you to “El Rama Lama Ding Dong”.  I have always loved this song, but the tune has taken on a new identity just by being sung in Spanish by a gaggle of cute kids.  I have never been able to figure out what Rama Lama Ding Dong means in English, so I have not a clue what the Spanish meaning might be.  Obviously it translates directly into the exact same words whether I know its meaning or not.

Let’s begin our Cinco De Mayo festivities with a few shots of Jose Cuervo Gold, regular Cerveza can be ingested on any day of the week and today is La Fiesta.  The celebrations on this day will surely end up fading into a straight tequila night.  Perhaps there will be a little el amor in the offing this evening.

Turning to the sports world I have been tequila hallucinating on just how great it would be if the Phoenix Coyotes could just stay in the NHL playoffs just a little bit longer, long enough to win the Stanley Cup for the very first time. Their NHL owners won’t mind, and the Coyote fans won’t mind, if they take a little time and win that Cup for just one first and most probably last time on their way out of town to new surroundings in parts unknown. I do not think that there is a precedent in sports for a team to win a championship and then move to a new city in the off season, although the Brooklyn Dodgers did win the 1955 World Series and were then were moved to Los Angeles for the 1958 season by owner Walter O’Malley.

Actually I am going to be feeling more than just a bit conflicted if the Coyotes end up playing the Los Angeles Kings for the Western Conference title.  My cyber-friend Ark_Razor has had season tickets to the Kings games for something like 20 seasons, and the Kings are venturing into unchartered waters just like the Coyotes.  With Phoenix up 3-1 in their series with Nashville and Los Angeles up 3-0 in their series versus Saint Louis, it looks like this match-up is going to happen.  Bart’s knowledge and love for hockey far surpasses mine, but tonight on this Cinco De Mayo I fell in love with the NHL.

In the end the better team will win out and will represent the Western Conference in the Stanley Cup.  It would be a thrill for me if the Kings do win just knowing that the Cup would be going to Los Angeles to reward Ark_Razor and all the other Kings’ fans for their unwavering loyalty and, for the very first time, I will be watching it all.

It seems as though Mr. Irrelevant (the 253rd and last pick in the NFL Draft) gets a bonus present this year.  What a country!

There was a wonderful, quirky television series that ran in the United States from 1990 to 1995 called Northern Exposure that took place in a fictional town called Cicely, Alaska.  To say that the series was great would be an understatement, I absolutely loved it. I highly recommend that you watch it on DVD if you have not seen it;  it is a funny, entertaining series. I had lived in Alaska in my later youth, and it was there that I was introduced to hockey.  Up to then I had resided in Texas, Arkansas, and Arizona most of my life, and hockey was a foreign sport to these regions of the country.  I attended a small college named Alaska Methodist University in Anchorage, and a friend of mine was on its hockey team.  

I moved back to Arizona in 1970 and I figured that I would never be exposed to hockey again; After all it is a cold weather sport.  Yet in 1996 Phoenix got a NHL franchise, hockey had indeed somehow made its way to the Sonoran Desert.  Years of bad management and poor hockey teams led to fan apathy and bankruptcy of the franchise to the point that the team has been owned by the NHL for the last three years.  Yet a funny thing has happened in these three years, the team has finally become competitive and has made the play-offs for the first time in these three years.  This season the Coyotes have won their first round series against the Chicago Blackhawks and are now in the second round of the playoffs for the very first time.

I hated when Northern Exposure was cancelled in 1995, and I certainly would hate it if the Coyotes were to be bought by an owner who will move them to another city.  But part of the problem is that I am in love with our town, a city that was never made for the sport of ice hockey.   However Phoenix is certainly a city large enough for all the major sports.  So I will understand if the team moves, but there are many other NHL cities that also were not made for ice hockey.  Florida, Carolina, Tampa Bay, Dallas, Nashville, San Jose, Los Angeles, and Anaheim all come to mind.  So I am rooting for the Phoenix Coyotes to win it all this season.  What a great way it would be for our town to say goodbye to the NHL.

I would also like to take a moment to say goodbye to a great New York Yankee Moose Skowron, who passed away yesterday at 81 years.  Moose played first base for the Yankees from 1954 to 1962 and was a 6 time All-Star and a 5-time World Series winner.  Moose hit three game 7 home runs and will be greeted in the beyond by his good pals Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris and chorus of boos, make that moos.    

There is nothing that arouses my emotions more than baseball, especially the historical aspect of the game.  My emotions were reduced to the point of happy tears while watching the festivities at Fenway Park yesterday, in the celebration of the 100 year old ballpark.  Every living player who ever donned a Red Sox uniform was invited to attend, and come they did to honor a franchise and ballpark that is steeped in baseball lore.  Seeing the old men like Bobby Doerr and Johnny Pesky, 94 and 93 years respectively and almost as old as the venerable old park itself, was what got my tears to flowing.  Even though I am a product of the Western United States, for just a moment, with that dirty water flowing down my cheeks, Boston became my home as I watched 200 former players marching onto the grass and taking their positions on the field where they once played.  It was a fitting and well staged celebration to our national pastime, and the folks of Boston did it right.

If I could change just one of the memorial events of that old ballpark, I would have had Ted Williams tip his cap to the fans in appreciation as he rounded the bases in his final at bat at Fenway Park.  If I had the power to resurrect the dead, Ted would have been there today to finally make amends to the fans, thus putting an exclamation point on the most glorious career ever at Fenway Park on the park’s most glorious day.  Ted, whether you ever realized it or not, we fans of baseball idolize you and we will never forget your sterling deeds both on and off the diamond.  Your essence is a permanent fixture of Fenway Park.

I watched in amazement as Bill Buckner walked on the field to a tremendous applause, and the error that he made in Game 6 of the 1986 World Series was set aside for this special celebration.  When Terry Francona stepped onto the field the applause was repeated and, more importantly, Bobby Valentine got the same positive fan reaction.  The fans of the Red Sox are most certainly the best and most refined in all of baseball, and Ted Williams still owes them that tip of his cap.  Noticeably absent were pitchers Roger Clemens and Curt Schilling, and I cannot say anything positive about them not being there to celebrate with the former Red Sox players and fans.  Lost in the excitement of the celebration was the fact that the greatest baseball player of all-time, George Herman “Babe” Ruth, began his storied career right here in Bean Town at Fenway Park.  It was certainly a most wonderful day at the old ballpark.

On the way out I would like to take a moment to celebrate the genius of Levon Helm and The Band.  Levon died a couple of days ago, and I am saddened and amazed when I hear people say that they never heard of him or his group.  Here are a couple of his songs to prove that you people are mistaken, and you are familiar with his music.  By the way, Levon is the one playing the drums and singing.  Do you remember him now Doug?  I thought so.