johnhetzler - Tumblr blog

[johnhetzler]

Belle Isle, #detroit https://www.instagram.com/p/B1WAxmolw2i/?igshid=1wges9f89ij4p

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Day’s end, Torch Lake #latergram #puremichigan https://www.instagram.com/p/ByQ_uuQFvkR/?igshid=ywca0ch5m1ah

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Torch Lake, Saturday evening #puremichigan https://www.instagram.com/p/Bx6DPrjl5iU/?igshid=1bs6o4pehjb9m

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Saturday morning, Torch Lake #puremichigan https://www.instagram.com/p/Bx5AUwEFSt_/?igshid=661bit82u7ew

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Creepy crawler #hiking https://www.instagram.com/p/BxduHLiAilM/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=151kmk1pl0nwr

[johnhetzler]

Rejected Avengers: Endgame Cross-Promotional Ideas

Parker-Quill Funeral Home - It's a Snap

Bernie Bros for Captain America

Erectile Dysfunction Drugs - Hulk Say Turn It On

Avenge and Protect Life Insurance - Protection for Any Disaster

Thanos Environmental - Reduce, Reuse, Recycle

Tony Stark Center for Chronic Pain Management (medical marijuana facility)

Thor Toilet Bowl Cleaner - Disinfectant with the Power of Thunder

Ant-Man Lawn Care

[johnhetzler]

Playing for a major chance at the Portsmouth Invitational Tournament

I grew up a major-league sports fan in a minor-league community.

That’s no slight on Hampton Roads, where I grew up. It’s a fact. It’s home to the world’s greatest harbor, a key cog of the United States military and home to the world’s most polite people. But Hampton Roads didn’t -- and still doesn’t -- have a major-league sports team. No NFL, no NBA, no NHL, no major-league baseball. By some counts, it’s the largest metropolitan area without a major-league team. It did have the Tidewater Tides, a AAA affiliate of the New York Mets, where Lenny Dykstra choked up on the bat and fans screamed, “Hey, hey, Jose knock it away” to Jose Oquendo as planes roared overhead at old Met Park. And later, the Norfolk Scope hosted the Hampton Roads Admirals, who brawled their way through the East Coast Hockey league. But it was all minor league.

And Portsmouth, my hometown, was the minor leagues of Hampton Roads. Again, that’s no slight against P-Town. It’s fact. The surrounding cities were bigger, more happening places. Norfolk had the Naval Base; Portsmouth had the shipyard. Virginia Beach had the Boardwalk, right on the Atlantic Ocean; Portsmouth had the Seawall, right on the Elizabeth River. Chesapeake was blooming; Portsmouth had already bloomed.

Most importantly, to a boy who loved Reggie Jackson and Dwight Gooden, Ralph Sampson and Johnny Dawkins, Art Monk and Darrell Green, Portsmouth didn’t have any professional sports teams. The minor-league Tides and Admirals both called Norfolk home. I cheered for those teams, and I felt that kinship a fan has for the local franchise and players. But they weren’t mine. They weren’t ours. They weren’t Portsmouth’s.

For four days in April, though, Portsmouth hosts an event that has big-league aspirations. The Portsmouth Invitational Tournament, which takes place shortly following the Final Four, is a basketball showcase for college seniors who hope to make the pros.

I haven’t attended the Portsmouth Invitational Tournament in years. I’m sure it’s changed a lot, and I don’t want to overstate its significance. But it still means something to me.

The participants fit Portsmouth’s not-ready-for-prime time profile. They’re role players on big-name schools or they’re stars from small colleges. They might be too short or too slight, or they might not have a natural position. None of them are a sure thing for the NBA, but they all think they can play.

And for those four days each year, 64 guys get their chance to prove they can play pro ball. For me, the PIT -- as the showcase was called locally -- was the closest to the major leagues that I’d get in my hometown.

I could see future stars, All-Stars-to-be like John Stockton, Dennis Rodman and Tim Hardaway.

I could ask for autographs from college stars, who almost always were friendly. (Though Mugsy Bogues scowled at me when I naively asked if he thought he could make it in the NBA.)

They all had something to prove, and they did. Their careers, their basketball futures depended on it.

Scouts and team executives, many of them legendary figures, sat in the stands. Marty Blake, the NBA’s director of scouting, offered his takes on the talent for any reporters, print or TV. Bill Russell and Jerry West kept their eyes on the prospects. In retirement, Russell remained intimidating. I was too scared to ask him for an autograph. But the stars were there. It felt like a major-league event, or one that had major stakes, to me.

Sure, the PIT didn’t have a major-league atmosphere. It didn’t take place in a big arena with a fancy scoreboard but in a high school gymnasium (Woodrow Wilson back in my day).

But you were close to the action. I can still hear Hardway shout out “Motion” as he ran a play -- or something resembling it. We gasped at sweet behind-the-back passes, which may not have impressed the scouts but made us happy.

And, yes, of course, we wanted to see dunks. Lots of dunks.

The results of the games didn’t matter much. The players were divided among eight teams, all named for the sponsors, local businesses such as Cherry Carpet or Sales System Limited (or something like that). The winning team could pick up a player from the losing team, and sometimes my friends - basketball geeks like me - would debate about which player the winner should add. Mostly, though, we cheered for local players, guys from UVA and Old Dominion and Virginia Commonwealth and ACC schools.

What mattered was potential, was showing that you were worthy to play professional basketball. In that way, I rooted for them all. In a way, I identified with them.

I wanted a taste of the big time, too.

[johnhetzler]

Duke, North Carolina rivalry remains the best

Thirty years ago, Christian Laettner was a freshman, and Duke wasn’t quite Duke yet.

Thirty years ago, Hubert Davis was a freshman, and Dean Smith coached the North Carolina Tar Heels.

A lot has changed since 1989 - and a lot has remained the same. They hated each other then, and they hate each other now. They also have continued to win at a dizzying pace.

Since then, the two teams have combined to win nine NCAA championships.

Duke is now DUKE, a brand that Coach K has built into more than just a college basketball power, but a media force.

North Carolina is still North Carolina, a blue-blood program even without Dean. Davis is an assistant coach to Roy Williams, and the Tar Heels keep chugging along.

The rivalry between the two remains fierce, the best in college basketball.

Thirty years ago, the teams split their regular-season series, with each team winning on the road. UNC then won the rubber match in the ACC Tournament championship game, though Duke advanced to the Final Four while the Tar Heels lost to eventual national champion Michigan in the Sweet 16.

What will happen this year? Will Zion Williamson shake the rim? Or will Coby White rattle his foes?

Whatever happens, thirty years from now, this rivalry still figures to be rolling.

[johnhetzler]

Bright lights, big city #Detroit #puremichigan https://www.instagram.com/p/Brv94cUADNB/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=12cfh571w0wnt

[johnhetzler]

Black Friday, #upnorth style #puremichigan https://www.instagram.com/p/Bqh91dRgdJv/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=vsixmtf4kzn9

[johnhetzler]

Look what I found at the Ernie Harrell Sports Collection at the Detroit Piblic Library. I used to read Zander Hollander books before every season.

[johnhetzler]

The Biltmore and Chihuly

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Sunset by the dock, Torch Lake-style #latergram

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Floral fireworks

[johnhetzler]

June 24, 1955 In an 18-7 Washington loss to the Tigers, Senator third baseman Harmon Killebrew hits his first major league home run. The 18-year-old rookie, who becomes known as ‘Killer’, will finish his 22-year Hall of Fame career with 573 homers.

[johnhetzler]

Summer sky at Torch Lake #nofilter (at Torch Lake, Michigan)

[johnhetzler]

The writing

The writing The writing came in an instant, immersing. He felt it swimming around him, the urge to put words to paper, to record the feelings that suddenly saturated him like a downpour from the skies. He lived in another world, while inhabiting the physical one, a simultaneous situation that hadn’t occurred before. He wanted the sensation to continue, to bottle it like a model ship, too big for him but needing to be displayed.