That Is A Full Day

- This week, ESPN is recognizing "Jimmy V Week". Regrettably, I came of age as Coach V's coaching career was coming to an end. When his team won the NCAA's in 1983, I was only ten years old. My memories of Dereck Whittenburg and Lorenzo Charles are a little dimmer than those of the ACC greats that followed - Mark Alarie, Johnny Dawkins, and Len Bias. Likewise, after Valvano finally found someone to hug in Albuquerque , his own national presence seemed to fade in favor of Coaches Krzyzewski and Boeheim.

After 1990 and Personal Fouls was published, only Valvano's family and Vitale could say anything complementary about him. Until 1993.

Less than a month before his death, Coach V gave a speech that will forever remain in the heart of any sports enthusiast. It should, however, not remain within that community. The motto "Don't give up; don't ever give up" is not unique to the athletic arena.

The games played during the Jimmy V Classic are sure to be entertaining. It will bring back many fond memories any may even lead me to laughter, thought, and tears.

- Melissa and I stifled laughter long enough to discuss renewing our vows someday. Not for ourselves, but just to have a party and confuse our family and friends.

We'll play two songs to demonstrate the tug-of-war of nuptial bliss. She'll play Pearl Jam's Can't Find A Better Man and I'll play George Jone's He Stopped Loving Her Today.

The rest of the evening will be spent in quiet and nervous conversation about whether we're serious or not.

- With Missouri and West Virginia out of the championship picture, I have temporarily discontinued caring (I haven't given up; I won't ever give up) about the winners of the BSC games. Let Hawaii have its chance, I won't be watching.

One more season like this, however, and I could quite possibly be on board for a play-off system, reversing my previous opinion . I thought I'd never say that.

For Love of the Game or Money

I've recently been re-reminded of why it's much more fun to be a child than it is to be an adult.

The summer after I graduated from high school, I got a job working the poolside snack bar at the Lodge. Brian had been life guarding the pool during his summers home from UT. Since most kids went to the Pro Shop, I was essentially paid to work on my tan and look like a tool with my do-rag.

Anyway, Brian and I got into collecting basketball cards. A box of cards cost about $25, if memory serves. But this wasn't just blindly spending money; it was investing in our idols. Surely there would be a couple of rookie cards in there that would not only pay for the price of the box, but would one day mature to $100 or more.

I faithfully kept all my cards in plastic sleeves and arranged them with OCD detail. My favorite players first, then by team, then by All-Stars, then all the rookie cards together. I placed them in a red plastic folder I used to hold notes in high school.

When Jackson came up this weekend with his parents, he brought along with him his trading cards. Most are feature players from the NFL with a few NBA players tossed in. I told him I had some trading cards and retrieved them from the study.

He makes TD look like a piker. Flipping through the book, he quickly asked, "Can I have the Michael Jordans?"

At the end of the weekend, I took all the cards that are worth anything (maybe $10 or over) and gave the rest to him, including one Michael Jordan.

It got me to wondering about how much they had increased in value over the past 15 years. I also remembered that I absentmindedly tossed 3 cards in my desk about a year ago: a 1981 Ervin Johnson Topps, a 1986 James Worthy Fleer, and a 1970-71 NBA Scoring Average Leaders with Lew Alcindor, John Havelicek, and Elvin Hayes. They are in the same condition as when I bought them - near mint.

Looking at these cards and wondering of their worth, I am also reminded of three David Robinson rookies I let my then-girlfriend hold onto for safekeeping. Man, was that stupid.

Today, I did some quick research to see how much I could sell my cards for, were that to be my decision. To make me feel better, a card I bought for $32 dollars is now worth almost $80. A card I bought for $18 is now worth almost $45.

To make me feel worse, those David Robinson rookies are worth about $15 apiece.

I'm glad I don't collect those cards anymore. First, it's too time consuming. And while it can get to be expensive, I readily admit my other hobbies and other toys are quite expensive themselves. But most of all, I know that at my cynical age, I would purchase solely as an investment and not for the boyish love of the players.

Still, I'm left with the question: Do I sell these cards now, or do I let them sit for another 15 years and pass down if we have a son?

Quick Thoughts

Three quick sports moments (of course) from our household.

- I only have enough space in my head for the important stuff.

On our way home from the football game last Saturday night, Melissa and I were talking about how great the punter from the other team was. His punts carried at least 40 yards and got several more from the roll; at least twice, he pinned Robinson within the 5. Melissa's comment - "He reminded me of that kid who played at A&M in the late Nineties." My reply - "Yeah, Shane Lechler, he was awesome; he was the only reason y'all beat Texas 20-16 in '99. Forget McCown to Bumgardner, it was Lechler. He was also the only reason y'all be K-State in double overtime for the Big 12 Championship."

Then, about five minutes later: "Hey, you haven't seen my money clip, have you? It's been missing since yesterday."

- Sports also have a way of making you (me) feel old. I got home from the mall at 8 last night, just in time to watch Texas and Arkansas. The big story was this was the first time the two teams faced each other since 1991.

Doing some rough math, I was the approximate age of most of the starters on UT's team and their starters were the approximate age of my youngest nephew the last time this rivalry occurred.

They have no memory of Strollin' Nolan; the SWC days and Barnhill South; Todd Day bowin' up to LJ.

- Speaking of quasi-irrelevant and should-be-forgotten-about moments from a decade and a half ago:

I was talking to a friend today about our favorite courses we've played. He mentioned playing the Ocean Course at Kiawah Island. Of course, I asked if Calcavechhia was still crying. Acknowledging the on-going cruelty of the situation, he mentioned a buddy of his played his tee shot to the 17th green within a couple of inches from the pin. He danced around the tee box singing, "Take that, Calc!". Of course, he was playing the whites and didn't have the entire world watching his every shot.

Still, it never gets old.