The graphics above marks the end of the road for this book, and right now, the challenge is sorting through all of the details that matter and then putting them in chronological order. We left off with the mention of Jim Thomas of the St. Louis Dispatch and the role he played in my life.

My run there ended after just three stories, but it still was full of memories and guidance, and it led me down the street to the ” local ” newspaper, St Charles Journal. I worked with Carla Milburn for what felt like years, and at times, it included covering something that I was a part of. I can tell you that high school golf was receiving great coverage.

Jim Thomas shared two thoughts with me about what it would take to become an ” actual ” sports writer. Getting a college education and learning how to write ” mean “. If a player underperformed, you have to be able to call them out about it.

I said that when you’re writing about high school and college ( back then, college was still non-revenue) , I don’t think you have to do that. But he was a smart man and someone I followed throughout his career, one that flourished.

The song 🎵 for this part of life was from Jimmy Buffett singing about You’ll never work in dis business again.

There were some moments during the 1980s that stuck out and will play a much bigger role in the seventh and  final book but I will sneak in a few that bring back smiles.

After my enlistment in the Navy was cut short due to them finding out about the severity of my injuries, I left San Diego and flew cross country to the campus of North Carolina – Chapel Hill. I was lost about what to do or where to go, and Joe Pittman was kind enough to offer up his sofa in his dorm room.

We went to the Blue – White basketball game, which was a blast for someone who didn’t experience things like that in life up to that point. After the game, we headed back to the dorm, and I noticed that two of the players were there as well. Sam Perkins was hard to miss because he was 6’9, and his wing span made him look even taller.

The other player was ripped but not as tall, and he had just played his very first game as a Tar Heel. Later that season, he hit a pretty big shot to beat Georgetown in the National Championship game before going on to become the greatest basketball player, like ever!

Yes, I had the dumb luck to be a witness to the first game in the career of Michael Jordan and then headed back across campus with him, all without knowing. A few years later, the Chicago Bulls played an exhibition game at the Arena in St. Louis during his rookie season, and I scored two tickets. I invited this player this young lady from the Church softball team that I coached to attend with me.

I guess that things worked out for both Mike and myself because as I type this out, my date that night is still sleeping in the next room, forty plus years later.

Another key date to the decade took place in December of 1989. The manager of the Domino’s Pizza in St. Peters was a good friend and a boss, Mark Brace. The two of us had started taking trips to various sporting events, and I mentioned that I had never been to a college Bowl game.

Duke University was always the school of choice but not for the bandwagon of fans that came decades later because of Men’s Basketball. My Dad’s family remained in the Buggs Island Lake area and there, when you were fighting to stay alive you went to Duke University Medical Center.

Mark and I jumped into our GMC Jimmy and bolted down to Birmingham. Alabama for the All-American Bowl between Duke and Texas Tech. Attending that game led to thirty-five years of chasing Bowl games, both Duke and otherwise. The picture above is one of the four books that I’ve created that has already been published.

Our coach, Steve Spurrier, left after that loss and headed down to the University of Florida. The Ole Ball Coach and his visor did okay as well. While I knew that Duke wasn’t very good in football, at the time, I certainly didn’t know that it was the first Bowl game they played in during my 26 years of life.

The 80s also included my retirement from coaching, having coached one season, won the Church League Championship, and then married my second best player. No reason to try and top that !

The journey will picks up after I move from St. Louis but there are a few key players in the story that must be introduced before we play ” Get out of St Lou”.

Bob Seger was a legendary musician who flooded the charts with hits, one after another, but it was Get out of Denver that caught the attention of an 11 year old that was just beginning to appreciate music. That song is the only one in which the Motor City rocker sounds just like Chuck Berry.

At the end of the last chapter, I introduced the name Gerry Boehm. Boehm was the first person to be a positive influence on me. Boehm taught me how to market at the high school level. Like myself today, he always gave credit where credit was due.

One of the first things we did together came from Louisiana Tech. They were creating what was called a theme poster, and we loved it. We did this together for years and expanded on it to include a book on the season, so if you count those books the number goes up considerably.

One year, we were blazing a trail, which included the entire team wearing outfits that were from the Old West. Another season, we were all wearing Lab Coats in a room full of beakers and bunsen burners.

My senior season came around, and we had a choice to make in regard to my role with the team. I could put on a uniform and sit on the end of the bench or work the program in other ways. Advance scout, writing, and a little bit of this, and that seemed like the better answer.

Dale Renken was our best player, and he eventually went on to play for Rich Grawer at St Louis University. Yes, the same Grawer who taught Boehm the game of basketball. We had an undefeated regular season that ended in heartbreaking fashion in the tournament.

The 6’7 “Renken had a cousin who was a golf professional at St. Peters Golf Course and, in his spare time, ran a disc jockey business. Both of his jobs contributed to my skill set as I became an employee of the city who worked at the course, and that led to the first time someone handed me a microphone, then told me to be entertaining.

The swing in venues was mind-boggling, to say the least. From wedding receptions to pool parties to 50-year school reunions. The day would come when Bob sold me the business, and I renamed it JB’s Rainbow.

The golf part of the story branched off in 50 different directions. I became responsible for all of our leagues and tournaments and researched how to correctly calculate a handicap ( that company was called ” Clubhouse Handicaps. My events were all outside of the box and drew folks in from all across the grewater St Louis area.

I remember a year that I wrote a third place check to a fellow named Tom Wargo. The amount was probably just $100.00, and I really wish that I had kept the check. See, a few years later, that same guy was seen winning the 1993 PGA Senior Open and 1994 Senior British Open !

Bob Renken also had family ties to a very prestigious country club a few miles up the road. Bogey Hills was the name and it was owned by the Walters family. Doc Walters founded the club and eventually handed it down to his son Dennis.

Doc had a Rolls Royce golf cart that made everyone turn their heads. I remember one particular story that changed my outlook for the remainder of my life.

While I had a great deal of leeway at the muni track of St.Peters, I was just in charge of the bag room at Bogey Hills. It was a Monday, and back then, most CCs would raise money by letting outside groups rent out the course for the day. On this Monday, it was a group affiliated with the National Football League !

The place is hoping as folks were pouring in from all around, and each group was promised a celebrity in their foursome. My responsibility was to find the bags of the members and load up their carts for them. Everyone was stoked about the event, but when Dennis approached me as the groups headed out for the shotgun start, I could tell something was wrong.

One of the registered golfers had not arrived at the course, and with the size of the checks written for the charity event, the Boss couldn’t have any group feel that they were cheated.

He looked at me and said the following ( it was 40 years ago, so I’m paraphrasing)…

In just a minute, a golf cart is going to pull up, and you are going to jump in and be their fourth. Do your best not to embarrass me.

I don’t have golf clubs, shoes or even socks. I am wearing my boat shoes ( are they still a thing ?), shorts, and a collared shirt. The look in his eyes told me not to ask questions or raise concerns, I just grabbed the first set of clubs I saw and then jumped into the fast approaching golf cart. I immediately start pestering the driver of the cart about the ” special guest ” in our group was ?

I don’t know if the three players pre-planned their fun while awaiting their fourth to show up, but I know that I fell for it, hook line a sinker.

We tee off just a few minutes late, and the conversation is free-flowing amongst the three grown-ups, and I’m trying to honor my bosses wishes to not emberrass the Club.

I am practically tugging on the shirt sleeve of the man who I’m sharing the golf cart with, asking, “Please, mister, which one of those two guys is the famous one”

We were probably on the fourteenth hole when I heard one of the other guys say the name Roger out loud. I immediately drop my head because I just realized that for the past three hours, I have been asking Roger Wehrli when I was going to meet someone famous.

If you are under 60, that name won’t mean anything, but the more recent comparison would be to say that Roger was to the position of defensive back is the same as say, Peyton Manning was to QB.

His career covered 14 seasons, seven which ended in Pro Bowls, and if you want to learn more about him, drive up to Canton and check things out for yourself. The Hall of Fame was the last stop for the player, which was the face of the Cardinals franchise.

The humility and grace that had been on display thar day was only topped by what happened roughly two or three weeks later. Lin and I were walking through one of the many malls in the area when I noticed Roger at an autograph table, maybe 50 or so, feet away. I start chuckling to myself.

Lin asked me what was so funny, and I responded, “Remember that story about Roger Wehrli? That’s him over there, which led to her asking me about going over, and that wasn’t going to happen.

Before I knew what happened, I heard him somewhat shout, get over hear Jerry Carter. From 50 feet, Roger set the bar high for just how a superstar should treat other people, even when it’s just the bag boy.

Jim Thomas of the St Louis Post Dispatch, Carla Milburn of the St. Charles Journal and my first attempt at getting people to smile, Sports and More was both hatched and folded before I left town. My parents used the area as a home base for decades, so STL was a part of the journey a number of times.

Jim Thomas went on to have a great career, and he was the person who provided me with my very first stringer paycheck ($30.00). I was provided three opportunities to cover a local high school game for one of the largest daily newspapers in the country, and the conversations that followed altered my journey forever.

We will revisit Mr Thomas more than once down the road, but how about that, Mr Bob Renken. He pushed me forward in three separate ways and for no other reason than he could.

The journey reached the middle of the 1980s and as the song says….

CWO4, Charles Taylor Carter, was born on US-58 in Mecklenburg County back in 1933, and our family roots remained there for generations. In fact, there are still family members there today, but they are not part of this story.

The term is called ” Navy Brat,” and it was something that I embraced. Yes, I dealt with double digits in regards to the number of schools that I did or did not attend, but I credit my personality to the dramatic change of scenery each new deployment brought.

I was born in Lemoore, California, but we left there when I was three. We moved 3,000 miles to Tidewater, Virginia. From there, it was up to New England ( Rhode Island ) before dropping to the deep south, and I mean deep south in Albany, Georgia.

The sixth grade was the year that was the most bonkers of the twelve. It started with a move across town, from a farm 🚜 to a city home. The next move came when the Naval Base was closed down and Dad waited to hear what was next.

Key West, Florida ( my first knowledge of Jimmy Buffett ), but it was always going to be a temporary move. Dad went ahead and sent me to my grandparents’ house in Finchley, just a bit from Buggs Island Lake. The amusement ride continues from there when we are relocated back to Tidewater. Five locations in one year.

We never had any money, so getting an allowance was not going to happen. But my love for sports was starting to develop, so I went into business for myself as a twelve year old. It started with Lawn Care, and when I turned 13, I switched over to the newspaper business by delivering the Virginia Pilot every morning.

Six months later, I had six routes and managed them by hiring my friends. Aubrey Spangler was the District Manager who let me build a teenage empire.

I traced my roots back to my home state and adopted the Oakland Athletics as my baseball team. Al Davis and the Oakland Raiders in football so naturally I understood the business of sports marketing at an early age.

Locally, it was Old Dominion University and Virginia Wesleyan University, giving me a back stage pass to both Ronnie Valentine on the Men’s side and a young lady named Nancy Lieberman on the women’s.

The American Basketball Association was still a thing, and we had the Virginia Squires. They didn’t make the four team list when the merger happened, but it introduced me to the voice of one Marty Brenneman. The excitement in his voice was amazing as he could keep you excited even when you were down 38 points.

The Tidewater Tides started the love affair with baseball. I still remember the day that Willie Mays, the Say Hay Kid himself, at the age of 42 came to town. He had just retired from the New York Mets and put the uniform back on for the annual MLB versus Triple A game was played. I miss those days…

Mays launched a bomb 💣 that day and added a base hit. It was a priceless experience. Also, that summer, my parents let me board a fan bus for a day trip to Richmond for an AAA showdown at the old Diamond Ball park. $10.00 back then was the cost for the Day, those were good times.

While down in South Georgia, I started following the Atlanta Braves and this quirky pitcher for the San Diego Padres named Randy Jones. That would come full circle decades later when I started working with his catcher, Joe Goddard at West Virginia Tech University.

The other very notable thing that happened was that an expansion team was awarded to a mythical place called the Emerald City. The Seattle Mariners were born and, to this day, remain my team.

Dad finally retired, just short of 30 years because if he didn’t, he would have another sea duty stint, and he didn’t want to put Mom through that again.

Halfway through my junior year of high school, we moved to the Midwest. When you added that my parents were able to buy their very first home during my seventh grade, it meant two high schools, two junior high schools, and eight other stops along the way.

Before we completely close the door on Tidewater, it’s worth mentioning that we played football against the likes of Kenny Easley, Bruce Smith, Lawrence Taylor, and AL Toon, to name a few. Easley played at Oscar Smith High School and will reappear later in the book.

The long and winding road took us to a place that was called the fastest growing county in the United States, St. Charles.

Dad took a job at McDonnell Douglas, which would later be swallowed up by Boeing. Just like the Jed and all of his kinfolk, we loaded up the truck and headed west. St Louis is called the Gateway to the West and was set to be our next stop.

There were five or six major pieces to the puzzle that happened during the first stay in the Show-Me state. Each one played a major role in the journey, so let’s get to it.

Gerry Boehm had just finished up a great run as the assistant coach at the legendary Desmet High School under Rich Grawer. Grawer ran a college level program at the powerhouse school and Boehm was eager to build his own program by using the same thought process. Grawer would move on later to the college level and just missed a serious run at a Final Four when he was coaching Steve Stipanovich.

Grawer was trying to make the move up at the same time but was passed over. Stip was the definition of a Blue Chip, and others were going to follow him once he picked his college. He ended up going over to Columbia, where he played for Norm Stewart and his Missouri Tigers.

Two decades later, our paths crossed again in Bellingham, Washington, when I was in town for a Western Washington University game and his daughter was on the team. File that under small world.

Boehm was a towering presence, and his level of understanding the game made every minute around him exciting.

During my junior year at Francis Howell, I continued my search for ways to expand my portfolio, and because of my physical limitations, playing golf was the only true option. This led to a multitude of opportunities in that part of the sports world.

It has been a rather wild ride up to this point and I’m still only 17 years old. Up to this point, I have only written one poem and goofed around a bit with a number of possibilities. Let’s see where it takes us next !

Introduction

Three folks with serious ties to Page County High School in Shenandoah, Virginia. Chris Dodson, Alan Knight, have combined to put PCHS on the map. But they are just three of many as a van load of folks with the last name of Comer, and both of the Gordon sisters are a few more. It’s okay that some people will look at the picture above and question who that third guy is?

From 14 to 63, it has been a phenomenal journey and has included an equal amount of top-shelf people as it does various destinations.

There is absolutely no way to shine a light on every place or even every media outlet that has been part of the journey. But with the help of both John Galle and Nancy Sorrells, we will do our very best to pick the most entertaining ones available. There is one absolute requirement in that all stories MUST be of positive nature because if you can not tell a story without putting another person in a negative light, the story doesn’t make the cut.

This journey started when a 14 year old boy, fresh off a 42-point performance in a high scoring rec league game, was run over by a drunk driver on his way home.

A life full of promise ended before it really began, and this created a gigantic void. To fill the hole, I started tinkering with writing while at Norview High School, and the very first thing I had published was a poem about the basketball team, the Pilots.

My dream of playing for Hamp Anderson and then Bill Foster at Duke University was gone, but I lettered as manager and became the team poet.

While I never played a single minute at the Tidewater school, my tennis shoes did drop 22 points one night at Kempsville High.

Teddy Smallwood was an amazing talent, and the night we played at Kempsville, he was trying to break in a new pair of tennis shoes. It wasn’t going well, so during timeout, he asked me to give up my sneakers. My shoes had a very good night !

Dad retired from the Navy after nearly 30 years, and we went from Norfolk, Virginia to St. Peters, Missouri, during my junior year. The story begins in Weldon Springs at Francis Howell High School and will conclude almost fifty years later in the hamlet of Laurel Fork, Virginia.

The four categories that we will break the stories into are : West Virginia Tech University Baseball, Shenandoah Valley / Page County, Carroll County, and the wild card category.

The list of publications is north of 20 and is spread across the United States. In some instances, it was just a single story that was run while others were very long-term. Some subjects are famous while others are just feel good memories.

John Galle is a highly qualified editor who lives in Salem, Virginia, and made his mark as a sportswriter back in the day. Galle is now a father of three children, and I’m grateful that he is going to be tackling this project for our non-profit organization, OneofUs.Care.

Nancy Sorrells has been involved with our third and fourth books in addition to the fifth, which is in the final stages as this is being typed out.

The journey begins with a tragic accident that removed playing sports from the equation and ends with the task of trying hard to narrow down the Top  100 or so.

Mac Davis put together a book back in the late 1960’s with the title being ” Great Sports Humor ” and I read it while trying to learn how to walk again. It stuck with me and will be the inspiration for how this will read out.

Sit back and hopefully enjoy the ride !