Struck with a stick, but still happy

Struck with a stick - Cape’s Ally Diehl took a hockey stick to the face, then melted onto the Caesar Rodney Bermuda grass like a DQ Blizzard on the dashboard. All field players took a knee, trainers attended, and there was some blood. Jeremy Diehl hopped the fence on the parent side and skedaddled right over. The last time J-Dogg was rattled, he was in a crib. We’re talking Cape, Sesame Street by the Sea, a village of interconnected medical muppets. This wasn’t going to be a walk-in at Kent General Emergency. Connections were made (I leave names out because docs are like referees – they don’t want notoriety). Ally’s cut required eight stitches, four internal and four external. A low-slung bright sun burnished the fall afternoon. Jeremy and Ally, dad and daughter, were leaving the field and walking toward my camera. I’m not into digital drama, but I snapped a photo with my overkill lens, then said to Ally, “The good news is, you’re smiling.” She answered honestly and succinctly, “I’m always happy.”   

Lost in Space - Grandpa’s got your Google Maps! It doesn't mean I can’t get lost on the way home. I seem to have a problem reversing directions on my phone, so I rock it old school, using my rearview mirror compass while triangulating planetary positions. I was lost in No Fredman’s Land coming back from a football scrimmage at Easton, Md., a month ago – I thought I’d never get out of the box – then just last Wednesday coming back from Winter Place Park and Equestrian Center, I disappeared into the Pittsville triangle. I thought of the song by Blind Faith, “Can’t Find My Way Home.” But all Gumboro Saw Mill jokes aside, there are some rich country folk down that way living on country estates and horse farms. I was edified and learned something, but I wasn’t pulling up any long driveway to ask for directions, not wanting to get shot. Lost people need to stay lost until they find their way out. Back in the old days of Delaware athletic venues, all verbal directions included the same two words: liquor store. Back then, “We were all in one place, a generation lost in space” – “American Pie,” 1971. 

Who’s your daddy - Two years ago, I was escorted to the dais (head table) at the Delaware Sports Hall of Fame induction banquet by board member Bud Hitchens. I told him we’d get booed if we walked in the door together at CAMP Rehoboth on Baltimore Avenue. We weren’t the odd couple, Oscar and Felix; we were Oscar and Oscar. On Wednesday during daytime hours, Bud was inducted into the Delaware Association of Athletic Directors Hall of Fame. The ceremony was at Delaware Technical Community College Terry Campus in Dover. I would have attended if I had known about it, and I knew that shorts and no socks were acceptable attire. Congratulations to coach Bud Hitchens, the former Milton High point guard. 

Snack wellness - I was covering Mariner field hockey like a horse blanket Oct. 2, as they beat Smyrna 4-1. I wasn’t on Cape Gazette assignment, just a grandfather who owns a big old camera. I was leaving when four young athletes enthusiastically offered me water and a choice of snacks (I picked a melt-in-your-hand KitKat bar), then led by the irrepressible Evan Chubb was told, “You don’t have to pay. Now will you please take our picture and put it in the Cape Gazette?”   

Snippets - Cape football plays at Saint Mark’s Friday, Oct. 6. The worst beatdown of a Cape football team I can remember was 2008 when Saint Mark’s rolled over Cape 62-0 at Cape. Cape, an 8-2 team in 2012, lost in the first round of the state tournament at Saint Mark's 21-7. Sean Bradham reminded me last Friday night that Cape lost to Saint Mark’s in 1994 after a penalty was called on Jack Frederick for roughing the field goal kicker. Game film later revealed the kid just slipped and the call was wrong. On the retry, he made the game winner on the last play of the game. That was 30 years ago, and Sean remembered it like it was yesterday. It’s yesterday he doesn’t remember. Go on now, git!