My co-author Matt Johanson and I were on Marty Lurieâ€™s Giants pre-game show on KNBR 680 on Saturday to discuss the newly updated edition of our book, â€œGiants: Where Have You Gone?â€
It was a fun day at the ballpark. Marty’s had us on his show in the past, so it was great to be invited back.
Hereâ€™s the audio of our interview:
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And here’s a few photos from the day:
Don’t we look pretty calm, considering we’re about to go on air?
After the interview, it was still about two hours before game time, so we hung out and watched the Giants play whiffle ball with their children.Â Here, Giants closer Sergio Romo pitches to his son.
The view from the press box. The Giants beat the Dodgers, so it was a good day.
Two magazine articles that I wrote in the past year were recognized with awards this week.
My feature on the Indianapolis Colts’ move from paper playbooks to iPads received an honorable mention in the profile category for the â€œTabbie Awards,â€ given out by the Trade Association Business Publications International. And my feature on new U.S. Army communications technology was part of a special section that also won an honorable mention.
An updated edition of my book, â€œGiants: Where Have You Gone,â€ is available now. Itâ€™s a where-are-they-now book of former San Francisco Giants players and managers that my college friend Matt and I originally wrote in 2005.
The newly revised edition includes two new chapters, one on the World Series championships of 2010 and 2012 and the other on All-Star second baseman Jeff Kent and his post-baseball career as a reality TV star on the CBS show, â€œSurvivor.â€
It was fun to interview Kent, particularly since Iâ€™m a Survivor fan. (Yes, I still watch after all these years). I followed the 2012 fall season intently. As the season progressed, I rooted for him unabashedly, while taking mental notes of his strategic moves and performance on challenges since I knew I wanted to interview him for the book.
Fortunately, he agreed to a phone interview in December, which Iâ€™ve turned into a Q&A for the book. Kent admits that he wasnâ€™t known as the most sociable guy in a baseball clubhouse, but he was incredibly social on Survivor. And he was incredibly nice, personable and funny during my 35-minute phone conversation with him.
For example, at the end of the phone call, I told Kent that that my brother purchased an autographed baseball bat of his at a silent auction fundraiser in San Francisco in 2000 or 2001. And that today, my brother keeps it in his living room, and if burglars ever break into this house, heâ€™s going to grab the bat and start whacking at them.
Kent laughed and said, â€œYou tell him to hit them in the sweet spot.â€
The updated book is available on Amazon in hardcover, as an e-book, or as an audio book. Hereâ€™s the link.
After ten years in Arizona, Iâ€™ve moved back to California.
The Grand Canyon State served its purpose. In 2002, after years of working crazy, insane hours during the Internet boom, my wife and I craved a quieter, more peaceful lifestyle, so we moved to the desert.
We loved it.
Then life got too quiet and peaceful. Our batteries were recharged many times over.
So here we are, back home in the Bay Area, spending quality time with family and slowly, but surely reconnecting with old friends â€“ and old landmarks, too.
After the waitress seats us, the professorâ€™s wife leans in and asks if weâ€™ve ever eaten at the restaurant before. When we say no, she squeals, â€œOh, youâ€™re going to love itâ€ and recommends a drink on the menu: hot ginger lemon apple cider. You can also add bourbon to it and itâ€™s delicious, she says.
My daughter â€“ Little M â€“ and I hadnâ€™t planned on having dinner with her professor and his wife. But the quaint, tiny neighborhood restaurant near Ocean Beach in San Francisco was packed tonight. We were next in line for a table when the professor, sporting a fedora and full gray beard, and his wife, petite and full of positive energy, walked in through the front door and smacked into a wall of people on the waiting list. So we offered to have them join us for dinner.
I know my daughter was nervous. Our plans for a laid-back dinner suddenly became a high-stress situation, where she felt compelled to impress. I was fine with it. The prof taught Asian American studies, a subject I care about and was well-versed in. Thank goodness, he didnâ€™t teach physics or math.
â€œIâ€™ll have the hot ginger lemon apple cider,â€ Little M says. â€œBut no alcohol, please.â€
I waited for the others to order.
â€œIâ€™ll have the same,â€ the professor says. â€œBut Iâ€™m going to have the bourbon because Iâ€™m grading papers tonight.â€
And without missing a beat, he looks at my daughter, smiles and adds: â€œExpect your paper back tomorrow.â€
It was funny. I laughed out loud. I didnâ€™t look at Little Mâ€™s reaction (she was sitting beside me on a bench), but I didnâ€™t have to. I knew she smiled, but inside, she was dying. But for me, the joke eased any tension there was. It was good to know the old prof has a sense of humor. It told me dinner was going to be all right.
And it was. The prof and his wife were delightful, the food was delicious and the conversation was stimulating.
About two hours later, as we parted ways, and Little M and I walked back to our car, I told her I was confident that she did impress. She was on. She did great.