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Articles by Michael Baughman
The Perils Of Life In The Fast Lane
Halfway through a 215 game in the first round of the Firestone Tournament of Champions in April, Pete Weber strolled over to the bleachers and motioned to his famous father. The spectators surrounding Dick Weber leaned in. What sumptuous tidbits of bowler esoterica were about to come down? Ball lift? Oiling pattern of the lane? Something about "moving five boards" perhaps? "When we get down to the other end," said Pete, "would you bring me a Mountain Dew?" Dick Weber threw back his head and laughed.
Of Mouse and his men
Nicknames were the vogue in the Davis family of Independence, Ore., and by the time all the kids were labeled, their mother's call to dinner sounded like an appeal for an exterminator. "We were Birdie, Blackie, Teancie, Tickie and Mouse," says Mouse, a/k/a Darrel Davis, now 47 and head football coach at Portland State University, a Division I-AA school of 16,500 students.
RIGHT ON FOR ROBERTO
Roberto Duran had finished his steak and potato, polished off a helping of sausages and now was working on his second soft drink of the afternoon. It had been weeks since Duran had been able to indulge his prodigious appetite, to yield to his weakness for Coca-Cola and 7-Up, but he was getting his fill now as he held court in a restaurant of the Hotel Bonaventure in Montreal.
APBA IS THE NAME, BASEBALL IS THE GAME, AND OBSESSION IS THE RESULT
Arn Tellem looks normal enough. He wears crisp khakis and Clark Kent glasses, and a pack of Wint-O-Green Life Savers sprouts from the breast pocket of his Irish linen blazer. In almost every way he seems to be an average young Los Angeles lawyer, but his eyes—impervious to threat or persuasion—give him away. They're the eyes of a fanatic. The object of Tellem's fanaticism is APBA Major League Baseball, a mail-order game to which about a million Walter Mitty managers have lashed their lives.
Horses need our help
Every morning at breakfast time, through our dining room window, down the hill and across the road, in fog or rain or snow or sunshine, we watch while six horses are turned out of their barn. Immediately after crowding through a narrow gate, they race across a tree-lined pasture, and it seems clear that these animals are well aware of their strength and power, perhaps even of their beauty, and that, once set free, they gallop joyfully simply because they can.
And This Too Has Come To Pass
Unfold the NCAA's weekly 70-page statistical printout and impressive passing numbers tumble into your lap like spilled popcorn, and not just next to a name like Elway, but alongside guys called Whit and Boomer and Babe. You'll see right there in cold squared-off digits what Bill Walsh, new blocking rules, California and colored gloves—among other things—have done to college football: Passing isn't just up, it's way up.
Writers on the Range: Finding common sense among firearm fans
These days, it’s impossible for an American citizen fortunate enough to have been born with a functioning mind not to worry about guns and the men who love them, and the innocent victims some of those gun-lovers kill.National Rifle Association spokesman Wayne LaPierre, who tends to blame school shootings on rap music, has accused the government, aided by the press, of attempting to discredit firearms enthusiasts by issuing propaganda worthy of the Nazis.
Hunting in the Texas gave me hope for gun owners
These days it’s impossible for an American citizen fortunate enough to have been born with a functioning mind not to worry about guns and the men who love them, and the innocent victims some of those gun-lovers kill. National Rifle Association spokesman Wayne LaPierre, who tends to blame school shootings on rap music, has accused the government, aided by the press, of attempting to discredit firearms enthusiasts by issuing propaganda worthy of the Nazis.
THANK HEAVEN FOR DANNY
Setting: Heaven's gate, decades from now. St. Peter clutches a clipboard and nervously checks his watch. A crowd of dignitaries and a group of cherubic cheerleaders wearing white sweaters emblazoned with the letter A are also on hand. Two older men wearing varsity sweaters stand patiently at St. Peter's side. St. Peter calls for quiet. The sound of a basketball being dribbled off in the distance is heard.
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