Category Archives: Pittsburgh

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Yoi!!!

Well, the leaves have changed and the nights are becoming cool.  Football season has returned to Western Pennsylvania. This brings back some memories for me which include an icon of American broadcasting. Please review the following link before you move on here. https://youtu.be/IdjYFleXNro Myron Cope was a real character whose background as a sports journalist was extensive. He became the voice of the Steelers on radio broadcasts with Bill Hillgrove for many years and entertained us with his antics and his quirky voice which you hear in the video. I always liked Myron and his commentary and in fact had an interesting interlude with him back in the day. download-1
As many of you know, the Terrible Towel, waved frantically by Steeler fans, was created by Myron and all the proceeds have been donated to his foundation for many years. The Towel has been copied by other sports teams but the original Terrible Towel is first and foremost a Pittsburgh thing and we are most proud to wave it to encourage the performance of our Steelers in crucial game situations. original_towel

A while back, I was booked on a CMH Heli-Ski trip to the Bobbie Burns Range in British Columbia with some friends from our local ski area. As it turned out, our Steelers were playing and we wanted to somehow honor them and show our pride to the other groups who would be staying with us up in BC. I brought a Terrible Towel with me, and we had our guide take a picture of all of us with the Towel on the summit of one of the peaks where we would be skiing. img_1059

I had some copies made when we returned and I sent one of them to Myron Cope with a note saying that we did our part to cheer on the Steelers in a remote location of North America. I felt good about doing that and had some internal chuckles along the way thinking about what Myron would think of the picture. One day, while sitting at my desk, I got a phone call and picked up the receiver and much to my surprise the voice on the other end said,” Is this Pat McClozzzzzzzzzgey?” I said yes it is and the voice continued with ” This is Myron Cope.” ” I found your number and wanted to give you a call to tell you that your picture is hanging on my office wall between the guys with the Towel at the South Pole and the guys with the Towel at the Great Wall of China” I was thrilled and said that I was so happy to send it to him and really thanked him for the phone call. He said it was his pleasure and that he really appreciated the gesture and went on to relate to me all the places where the Towel had been and how many pictures he had with the Towel in locations all over the world. He gave me a few ” Ummm Haaaaas.” and some gutteral “Ls” in his language.  But his sincerity in calling me was most appreciated. I have heard a lot of good things about Myron over the years and how benevolent he was with local charities. We miss him in Pittsburgh, and his cheery enthusiasm will long be remembered by Steeler fans for many years. We are proud of the Black and Gold here and Myron generated a lot of that enthusiasm. Wave that Towel, Steeler Nation, – wherever you are in the country. Thanks for reading.

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A Real American Hero

I always respect anyone who is serving in the military. I have always respected and admired veterans who served in the armed forces and the sacrifices that they made to ensure our way of life here in the United States. As a history buff, I also value the place in our past that is reserved for veterans who made the ultimate sacrifice or those whose actions merited historical significance. There are many of these stories in our history and I wanted my son Jack to be aware that there was one of these stories right within his own family.
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One day, a few years back, there was an event at the Allegheny County Airport here in Pittsburgh where one could actually view and tour a B-24 bomber from World War II. My son and I stopped to pick up my Uncle Jack and when my son introduced himself and said, ” Hello, I am Jack McCloskey,” my Uncle responded ” No you are not, I’m Jack McCloskey.” My son giggled as we asked Uncle Jack or “Handsome Jack” as he liked to call himself how he was doing? He replied in his usual comical way,” First class, first class, at least that’s what the girls all say.” My son Jack giggled and off we went to the airport. slocum-b24-diamond-lil-up-close-2013-copy

When we arrived, my Uncle, who was in his 80’s, jumped up into the cockpit of the aircraft like he owned the plane. I asked Jack to keep an eye on him and don’t let him fall, but young Jack had a hard time keeping up the the old fella as he made his way through the plane explaining to everyone who would want to listen about the features of a B-24 bomber used in the Great War. You see, my uncle was the pilot of one of those planes and this is his story.

After flight school in the Army Air Corps, Handsome Jack became a pilot of a B-24 that provided support to the ground invasion of Italy during the Anzio Beach campaign. I can remember my uncle relating the tale of his 52 missions over the area returning to base every night with extensive flak damage to the fuselage caused by anti-aircraft gunners of the German Army. Imagine a young guy, I believe around 21 years old, being shot at every day and limping back to base awaiting repair of the aircraft only to fly out again the next day on another bombing mission. When I was 21, I was looking for my next cheeseburger. Times were different then and boys became men in a real hurry. Shortly after his 52nd mission, Handsome Jack was sent to his first mission in Rangoon, Burma and took Japanese anti aircraft fire and the plane was in peril. He assembled the crew and told them to prepare for bailout and as they all parachuted out of the burning craft, the B-24 hit the trees and exploded. My Uncle and his crew landed in the tall trees of the Burmese forest and made their way down to the base of the trees with my uncle breaking his back and his ankle. The Japanese were there waiting for them and immediately took them prisoner.

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The long and the short of it was that my uncle spent a year as a prisoner of war, keeping the crew’s spirit in tact by singing Irish songs and Christmas songs with his beautiful Irish tenor voice only to personally and eventually bury all of his crew. The British eventually bombed the camp and as my uncle fled for his life, waiving at the RAF frantically, they realized he was one of the prisoners and rescued him after a year in excruciating conditions of captivity. He made his way back to Bellevue, Pa., his home, much to the delight of my grandparents, my dad, and my aunts, who had given him up for dead. What a homecoming he had consuming a dozen eggs as his first meal back home with his family. Handsome Jack received the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Purple Heart for his heroism under the most grueling conditions. His positive attitude kept him alive not only during his Anzio campaign, but in the bowels of a Japanese POW camp in a remote part of the jungle.
As young Jack led Handsome Jack around the restored aircraft that day, I couldn’t help to think to myself that my son was witnessing history in the making. My uncle was in my mind, a real American hero. I was so glad that my son had the opportunity to meet my hero as his kind are leaving us rapidly these days with each passing year. My Uncle is no longer with us, but his memory is kept alive with every Irish song I hear and every tale I read about the bravery of our veterans in World War II. If you see anyone who has served in the military, take the time to thank them for their service.They will appreciate it. Thanks for reading.

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Single File……………..who is that talking?

We recently returned from the Jersey Shore where we annually visit the nuns who are in residence at their retreat house at Nun’s Beach. The retreat house is run by the Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary in Immaculata, Pa. This location is also the site of the east coast’s most famous surf contest run by the nuns. We always pick up the latest T-Shirt and hats to support the cause and it always takes me back to my days in the Catholic education system. IMG_0952

First of all I want to preface this by saying that the best teacher I ever had was Sister Judith of the Vincentian Sisters of Charity who taught me phonics in the first grade. Her work with me made me appreciate the English language by enhancing my reading skills. However, the descriptor of the Sisters of Charity was a bit lost on me at times when I had to stand in the wastebasket and face the corner because I was talking in class. The standard line in St. Sebastian Grade School was, ” Who is that talking?” And when we moved anywhere it was always single file. My dad provided brass rulers to the nuns that were a gift from my grandfather who was in the novelty business. They were used on my knuckles many times and if I “juked” it meant another rap on the knuckles. The Sisters of Charity was a bit of a misnomer. b6126223d8712ae0b20f38d6477c4b0a

Moving forward to the second grade, I made my first confession. I was a bit intimidated by the whole process and when the sliding door came open as I was greeted in the confessional by our new pastor, Father Getty, I peed my pants. It was a bit uncomfortable most of the day but it was not an unusual thing in Catholic grade school. We had a girl who sat right in front of me who peed at the same time every day about 3:00 P.M. and the floor was slanted. I yelled out, ” Here comes Bernadette again” We all raised out feet and I was back in the wastebasket. IMG_0951

The crowning achievement of my confession days was in the 8th grade when Father Fay jokingly asked if ” this was Patrick McCloskey” in the confessional. I was telling him that I committed a sacrilege and he asked if it was me. Of course I lied and said “no” and we both laughed and he gave me my penance and told me to get lost.

As my memory drifted forward at the beach, I thought about my days at North Catholic High School on Troy Hill in Pittsburgh. We were taught in an all boys environment by the Brothers of the Society of Mary. WYD13_D8_'DSC_1539

Now coming from a suburban atmosphere to meeting kids from the inner city, my first day was a bit traumatic when a freshman with a 5 o’clock shadow told me he wanted to hang my flag bell bottoms up on the pole in front of the school. Fortunately I had some upper classmen friends who came to my aid and told the man/child to back off. Disputes were an interesting thing at North when the rumors spread like wildfire that there was going to be a fight after school. We all missed our bus and congregated at Cowley or Gardner Field to watch the melee which often resulted in some serious carnage. One guy took a chunk out of another guys ear and out came the brothers to the field. They had no issues rapping us on the head and telling us to get back to the building. One of our knuckleheads says to one of the brothers that he would sue him. The brother said, ” Go ahead.I took a vow of poverty” and rapped the kid in the head again.

Our vice principal was an ex- Golden Gloves boxer who routinely offered to put the gloves on to any senior willing to take him on in a dispute. Not many takers in those days in light of the reputation of Brother Ray. This guy must have had a clone because every time we got in trouble in the class, we saw Brother Ray outside the window beckoning us to come out with his finger. He would twist our sideburns and admonish us and wipe his hands on our shirt, rap us in the head, and tell us to behave in class. IMG_0950

Sitting on the beach, I had my final vision of graduation, spring-1972. We all were on the stage to receive our diplomas and my dad remarked to me later that it was amazing to see the amount of cigarette smoke drifting up towards the rafters on that stage. Guys smoking during the mass and the ceremony was the final insult to the Marian community but not without penalty.

Discipline was first and foremost the hallmark of Catholic education in those days and a lot of the tactics used by the nuns and the brothers could not be employed today. Parents are very protective of their little Beaufords and Sallys and would never tolerate the capital punishment of the Sisters of Charity or the Marianist Brothers. However, our parents were from a different era and what we got in school often time was doubled at home. But if you took a survey today of those of us who were educated in the Catholic system, you would find that we are no worse for the wear and that the discipline served us well. Sister Judith’s phonics still is in use today and my last typing class at North (taught by the infamous Brother Ray) still is a most valuable tool- some 44 years later.

Laughing in my chair after visiting Nun’s Beach, my afternoon was amusing. My wife asked me what I was laughing about and I remarked ” a future blog post.” “Single File Mr. McCloskey” Thanks for reading.

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Paddy the Cop

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I am proud of my Irish heritage. I rode my bicycle through Ireland years ago and marveled at the people and the countryside. Our lineage and link to the old country was through my great grandfather on my mother’s side. His name was Patrick Carroll and this is a little story about him.

Patrick emigrated to America around the turn of the 20th century and settled in the North Side of Pittsburgh. Paddy - Copy He built the first house on Stayton Street and it still stands today although a little disheveled from the original appearance. IMG_0922

Patrick became a police officer for the City of Pittsburgh and basically was a beat cop whose jurisdiction was the Marshall/Shadeland area and Woods Run. He was a good cop and raised his family with the same values as he adhered to as a police officer. When you walk the beat, you get to know the people. As I heard it told from my mother and grandmother, Paddy would rattle the fences of houses with his night stick to alert the kids that it was time to go inside. He would see the local guys moving moonshine out of their automobile trunks during prohibition and rap the fenders and tell the guys to keep that business off the street. He left the bigger bootleggers to the Feds, but the local guys trying to make a buck, he looked the other way as long as they did not abuse the privilege. He greeted the ladies with respect and looked after the local businesses on his daily rounds. In short, he was a good cop and looked after the neighborhood. My grandmother told stories about people coming to the house and delivering food and other treats for Paddy Carroll for some favor that he had done for them or for just being attentive to their business or family. This is the way it was back in the day. 86503e7dd09776ce6c0018c1e1c18336

He ended up with a house full too. His wife died at an early age and my grandmother basically ran the house for him and his two sons. My grandfather Jack Reynolds eventually married my grandmother and moved in to the house on Stayton Street. So the house was full of guys with my grandmother cooking and cleaning for the lot. Unknown to Paddy Carroll my grandfather was making gin in the bathtub upstairs in the attic and after prohibition, he switched to beer. Paddy kept an eye on things and when Grandpap Reynolds found out that Paddy was counting the beers in the cases in the basement, he would save the caps,and fill the bottles with water. Paddy would remark that Johnnie was cutting back. My grandfather would chuckle and continue the charade until he stopped drinking around the time when I was a little kid.

At that time, the neighborhood was filled with hard working, blue collar folks trying to raise their families and getting by. Patrick Carroll was a friend to the neighborhood and in reality, he was the patron of the Woods Run and Marshall/Shadeland area. Things have changed a bit in the neighborhood and these days, there are shootings, drugs, violence and other happenings that make the old neighborhood a menacing place to live sometimes. Paddy the Cop would be saddened at the condition of his home, but as life progresses, things change sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.

It is said about history that you don’t know where you are going if you don’t know where you have been. Perhaps we all could take a lesson from Paddy the Cop’s page when we look back and see how he managed the neighborhood and his job. It is a lot more complicated today with the complexity of crime and poverty. However,without deference to any race, heritage, or social status, Paddy took care of the neighborhood and the neighborhood took care of Paddy. Just sayin. Thanks for reading. IMG_0923

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Live Long and Prosper

From The Best of Chronicles of McCloskey

“Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise. It’s 5 year mission:to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.”

-Captain James Kirk220px-STWink_Eye

I have always been fascinated with space. I have an entry level telescope and have always been a star gazer. Therefore, I am so excited that the new Star Trek movie is coming out soon. Star Trek Beyond! I will be in the front row. Why you ask? I was a Trekkie from way back. At Allegheny College, we had a whole dorm lobby filled with Trekkies after dinner watching back to back Star Trek re-runs on the Cleveland affiliate station. I watched the originals in the 60s and then when I was in college, it was great entertainment before we had to go back to the dorm room and grind for another test or complete another paper. Star Trek was always interesting because Gene Roddenberry created it as a modern day version of the old Gulliver’s Travels. We all became interested in the characters- Captain Kirk, Sulu, Bones McCoy, Scotty( beam me up), Chekov, and the iconic Vulcan, Mr. Spock. color_nimoy_headshot

Spock was played by Leonard Nimoy who did a masterful job creating the character who was basically a rational thinking alien who was also part human. His history is well explained in the series but he was the right hand man to Captain Kirk. Spock was always in control contrasting the emotional Captain. I used to love the Vulcan mind warp when Spock could delve into the recesses of your mind with a touch to your shoulder. He also could put you out with the same shoulder grab. He was larger than life. He was a Vulcan, and I met him one day, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

My sister was living in New York City in the 80s hosting a TV show called Romper Room. Black and White mirror picture I would visit her and we would take in Broadway shows and classic New York places to eat. One night before we were to go to a show, we stopped to get something to eat at Sardi’s. This was a spot that a lot of Broadway show people would frequent and actors would frequent between show times. There are pictures all over the walls of famous folks and as I was perusing the photos, I noticed a familiar figure sitting in a booth to my left. It was Spock!!!! I whispered to my sister and we both acknowledged the presence of Leonard Nimoy. I wanted to say hello and tell him how much I enjoyed his character over all of the years but I didn’t want to bother him. Somehow, I needed to make a connection and I remembered that I had seen him play Malvolio in the Pittsburgh Public Theater production of Shakespeare’s iconic “Twelfth Night.”TwelfthNight_01 He did a great job and I sheepishly approached his table and introduced myself. I told him how much I appreciated his performance at the Public and mentioned nothing about Star Trek. To my great surprise, he beamed!!! He said,” You saw that production in Pittsburgh?” I acknowledged in the affirmative and he invited me and  my sister to sit down and have a drink with him and his lovely wife. We blushed and said that we were headed to a show and could not stay but he asked me more questions about Pittsburgh and how much he enjoyed his time there. I think the guy was so surprised that someone recognized him outside of his classical character and he was anxious to have more conversation about it. He was so gracious as was his wife, and thanked us for stopping to say hello. I am so happy I didn’t say something stupid or embarrassing about him being a Vulcan. ” Hey Spock – where are your ears?” Or some other random comment that I am sure he has heard thousands of times.

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One thing I have learned about famous people is that in general, they are just people like you and me. Sometimes they are surprised about the depth of their notoriety and are almost embarrassed by it. Most famous people whom I have met are actually quite humble and although we think of them as larger than life, they really are just plain folks who have had remarkable achievements. They value their privacy but in some cases, they long to discuss topics outside of their notoriety. Everyone likes their privacy and I am sure that many famous celebrities guard their’s with a fervor. However, sometimes you make a connection where you are welcomed and interesting conversations are the result and the celebrity feels engaged and not used with a “selfie” or some other bothersome annoyance. Such was the case with Mr. Nimoy. No one will ever replace him as the Vulcan Spock. But on one night at Sardi’s in New York, he was recognized for a performance in keeping with his extensive training as an actor. Mr. Nimoy is no longer with us but his words still ring encouragement- “live long and prosper.” Thanks for reading.

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Fugheddabaddit

“Cause down at the shore everything’s alright
You and your baby on a Saturday night
Nothing matters in the whole wide world
When you’re in love with a Jersey Girl
-Tom Waits Sung by the Boss

My wife Janet is a Jersey girl. Even though she was born and raised in Pittsburgh, she spent a lot of time at the Jersey Shore. As a kid, during high school and college, she spent summers working on the boardwalk selling crabs and Ziggies, doing other summertime part time jobs, and being a waitress. She stayed with her aunt and uncle who insisted that Janet and all the cousins got summer jobs to augment their fun times on the beach and on the “boards.” beachwater
While working as a waitress, she had a boss who said,” fugheddabaddit” for everything. ” Hey, how is the Pastrami today?” ” Fugheddabaddit. ” Hey, can I have a day off tomorrow? ” Fugheddabaddit” ” Hey what is the weather like tomorrow?” ” Fugheddabaddit. Don’t you just love the Jersey accent and demeanor? It is no wonder that we go every year on the annual pilgrimage to Avalon, NJ. We just can’t help ourselves with the tradition and the feeling that you get when you cross that bridge into New Jersey and then smell the salt air in Egg Harbor. IMG_0254
A lot of Pittsburghers have gone elsewhere in the summer. The Outer Banks, Myrtle, Florida. But most of the hard core Pittsburghers still make the pilgrimage to the Jersey Shore for a myriad of reasons. We go with two other families and have done so for years. So many traditions have been established down there like Mack and Manco pizza on the boards with Johnson’s caramel corn. It is now Mack and Mack but basically the same pizza on the boardwalk in the evening watching the show of visitors and tourons that frequent these parts in the summer. As I previously mentioned, the local folks who have businesses down there who survived the hurricanes and just keep working and rebuilding, are typical of the New Jersey mindset. My knuckles get white from squeezing the steering wheel when I enter the state and I always remark that these people aren’t good enough to drive that fast. But you get guys like old man Moran at Moran’s Dockside who will sell you blood worms, clams, shrimp and every other kind of bait in the world every day with a deadpan look on his face. When I told him the last time that I am having no luck with all the bait that I have purchased each and every day, he looks at me and says,” Too hot to fish.” ” Bad time of year.” So I say,” Then why did you sell me the bait? ” He says ,” You wanted to fish.” Gadda love these folks!!! So I am relegated to fishing with my buddy Dean Denmead and on occasion coming up with Satanic catches like eels, horshoe crabs, turtles, dogfish and the occasional snow tire. But it is all part of the tradition. Even when the land breeze flies bite your legs so hard during the baiting of the line. It is like they sense that you are trying to get ready to fish and therefore are distracted enough to allow for them to feast on your flesh. downsized_0715091352
For me, the only way I maintain sanity is to ride my road bike with Mike King from Avalon to Cape May in the mornings. The early morning sunrises, seeing the crabbers under the draw bridges, and smelling the salt air is intoxicating. Part of the visit is to stop at Nun’s Beach in Stone Harbor and get the new T shirt for the year that commemorates another season at the beach with the pending surf contest sponsored by the nuns at the convent on the beach. Don’t tell me the Catholic clergy has it tough. Dinners at Sylvester’s with the fantastic fresh seafood eaten from paper plates on a picnic table may not be haute cuisine but it sure is Jersey. The corn, the tomatoes, the lazy days on the beach- people watching, are some of the things that Janet talks about all year. Fugheddabaddit.

So, in a few weeks, we will pack up the vehicle, bungee the beach chairs and fishing gear to the roof, put the bikes on the rack, and head east. And the reason you do it every year is because everything’s all right when you are in love with a Jersey girl. Thanks for reading.

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The Jeep Wave

So I bought a Wrangler to replace my Jeep Liberty which had 181,000 miles on it and rust holes as big as my fist. My son thought it was bad form for me to cover the rust holes with duct tape but I said it added character. In any event, it was time and I went to my friend Jim Krebs and got another Jeep – but this time I wanted the Wrangler. Funny thing is that when I first got it, my wife Janet remarked that people in Wranglers were waving at me. I said to her that maybe it was something to do with Wranglers like the Harley people give the cool, understated wave to each other. A nod of acceptance in their case. So when I got home, I went on the net and discovered that there is a very popular practice called…………the Jeep wave.
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Now I found out some interesting things in my research. Number one, you should always wave no matter what. Secondly. there is a protocol which if followed strictly, allows for a point system that grades your Jeep. If it is pre- civilian dating back to the 40s, you always wait for them to wave first then you respectfully wave or maybe even salute. If the Jeep is tricked out better than yours, you also wait until they wave first. Maybe to see if you are worthy of their wave? But always, always wave no matter what. My son Jack thinks it is dorky of course but you are a bit of an a-hole if you do not wave.

Now , some things I have found in my own personal research on the subject while driving. Women tend not to wave either because they are preoccupied or prefer not to wave to a stranger. Kind of like the stranger is saying,” Drive here often?” To which they seem to say- “Buzz off Sherlock. You and your wave.” Other observations include people who try to give you a cool version. Not much effort but a quick peace sign above the steering wheel. There are those who give you the full hand staccato wave like they are saying, ” Yes- I follow the rules and obviously you like my Jeep so I will fully acknowledge you.” There are the outdoors types who have all the doors off and the top removed and give you the wave outside the left of the car. I hear that it is extra points if you have your roof off in the winter and you give the wave out of the top of the vehicle with your wool cap showing.

The wave is reserved for Wranglers. There is no Liberty wave, Grand Cherokee wave, only Wranglers. The basic design of the exterior of the Wrangler has not changed much over they years and apparently the protocol of the wave goes back many years. Veteran Wrangler owners have told me that it becomes a little bit of a pain in the ass to keep waving but I must admit, I like it. In these days of waning gentility, fraternity, friendliness, there are mechanisms that allow people to join together and celebrate life. Take for instance the fraternity of the Terrible Towel. We all feel one when we wave the towel here in Pittsburgh. Somehow these things give us a bond that we celebrate. The Jeep wave is one of those mechanisms. So, if you see me waving at you and perhaps you don’t have a Wrangler, please note that I probably have gotten so excited waving that I wave at everybody. My wife is amazed at the people I talk to on a daily basis. Toll booth operators, the guys and gals holding the stop signs at road construction sites- I talk to all of them. Fast food drive through people. I wave to the cops- it never hurts. I guess I just like people and get involved maybe where I should be a little more reserved. I need the Jeep wave like I need a second navel. But it is another way of saying- hi neighbor, nice Jeep. My son just shakes his head. SMH as they say. Thanks for reading.

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He’s Back!!!!

Well folks, after a year recess, the batteries have been recharged. The Chronicles are back and I am hoping that you will enjoy some new perspectives from life in the fourth quarter. Games are won or lost in the fourth quarter so there is a lot of activity left for aging kids like us. Stay active, keep healthy, eat well and enjoy life. IMG_0334 I needed to do some things to update my profile and page which will be available soon but in the mean time, I will be posting weekly about some nonsense for your enjoyment and perhaps some perspectives from a guy who still thinks he is a kid- even though he looks in the mirror and knows he is not. IMG_0723
Stay tuned for weekly ramblings available on WordPress.com and also Facebook. Hopefully the posts will give you a laugh, some insight from the mind of a 61 year old fun seeker, and most of all, a break from the daily grind. The Chronicles are back. Have a laugh or two at my expense. IMG_0515

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” Shredding the Gnar” – in the city.

Don’t you just love that hilarious term- “shredding the gnar?” Originally it was an expression of the ski, snowboard, mountain bike set when they set out of some radical run where peril and intimidation were around every corner. Now it is a term that is used in tongue and cheek when we all do something radical or radical in our minds. ” Yea man- we were shredding the gnar today, dude.” Hilarious and everybody laughs. Well this is a story of “shredding” in the city.
Most mountain bike adventures are, well, in the mountains. Adventures out west, in far away places in the mags, and our own personal adventures in remote locations. But mountain biking can be enjoyed wherever there is a trail and many city/county locations have some pretty interesting trail systems managed by city and county government. Several come to mind in my experience. http://www.ocgov.com  describes the Orange County, California managed trails in the Laguna Coast Wilderness just above Laguna Beach, CA.IMG00159 Great trail system which I described in my post from May 19, 2013 in the archives. Check it out.IMG00214-20100708-1448 Tiger Mountain is part of the Issaquah, Washington managed system described in http://www.singletracks.com. Great trails within easy driving distance from Seattle. Golden, Colorado manages an extensive hiking and mountain biking system- http://www.cityofgolden.net. A lot of these trails are in fairly remote locations but within city and county governance. But most people would not know that there are some really enjoyable trails right within the limits of some major cities.
Wissahickon Park is part of the famous Fairmont Park in Philadelphia.images (5) It has an extensive trail network with some pretty technical riding.cdv_photo_001-23 The amazing thing about this park is that when you are “shredding” the technical there, you would think that you are in a tropical forest. The only clue that you are near a major city is the traffic noise that you hear from the Schuykill Expressway. ( Surekill Expressway). . Ride this extensive system and peddle out to the Fairmont section and run up the art museum steps like Rocky. Or better yet- try to ride the steps. 🙂 Moving west to my neck of the woods are the parks managed by the city of Pittsburgh. http://www.pittsburghparks.org Most of the riding is in two of the more famous parks. Riverview Park for one, is one of the older parks but has an extensive trail system which curiously drains really well. It is the park to ride in the winter and after a rain storm. Most of the trails are on a shale bed which aids in the drainage and can be enjoyed at all times of the season. The picture you see here is of my Saturday morning group with the famous Allegheny Observatory in the background.IMG_0180 This facility was founded in 1859 and still serves as a major research facility for the University of Pittsburgh in the Astronomy curriculum. Lots of well maintained gardens line the trails and walkways and again, you would never know that you were well within the city limits of Pittsburgh.
Frick Park- the largest park in Pittsburgh has a rich history with the Frick family who donated the land.images (3) Very technical riding in this park especially in wet weather. If you can survive some of the downhills and sidehill off camber riding – you have definitely “shredded the gnar” in one of the more centralized parks in the city limits. Interestingly, this is also a favorite park for night riding in the winter because the trails tend to be well used by city mountain bikers, hikers, dog walkers, so the snow tend to be packed rather quickly and the trails are rideable most of the winter despite the snowy conditions that may exist in the suburbs. night ride october (2 of 1)
In the old days, we used to do night rides and connect some of the city parks. ” Shredding the Gnar” might include some railroad crossings within city limits, busways( we almost got arrested one night for trespassing on the busway- (another story another time), or perhaps some large culverts under the parkways and city streets which tended to be, well, gnarly. Urban riding includes streets, tunnels, busways, railroad tracks with missing wooden boards on the riding surface next to the tracks- gnarly to say the least when your front wheel drops in. All of these features interconnecting to the city parks trail systems lead to a rather enjoyable riding experience that most people would not think is available to “mountain bikers.”
So, the next time you are in a major city, do some investigating and see if there are trail systems managed by the city or county. Chances are there is some real “gnar” that can be enjoyed and an exciting time can be had riding well within an urban setting. Mountain bikes are not just for mountains. Thanks for reading.

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What constitutes World Class?

I have probably had the same experience that many of you have when I have encountered what we call world class athletes or individuals. I categorize the experience in one of four ways. First- I am sure we have all met world class individuals whose reputation precedes them. For instance, I have had the distinct pleasure of meeting people like Arnold Palmer, Art Rooney Sr., Olympian Frank Shorter, childhood heroes like Roberto Clemente, Vernon Law, Bill Virdon, and other Pittsburgh Pirates of a bygone era. They were larger than life and when I met them, I was a bit in awe because of their reputations. golf_e_arnold_576
The second type of encounter is what I would call seeing the world class athlete in action. We have all seen pro football and baseball games and marvel at the athleticism of these individuals from the seats in stadiums. I have been fortunate enough to see Tiger Woods on the practice tee at PGA events. I have seen World Cup skiers like the Crazy Canucks at the Hahnenkamm downhill ski race in Austria.Erik Guay - Race - Atomic USA I have seen the women and men at the World Cups. I will never forget seeing Perine Pelen of the French National team take a slalom section unlike anything that I would have ever imagined. So fast and fluid. I had the pleasure of caddying for Ben Crenshaw at the US Open Qualifier at Shannopin Country Club when he was a student at the University of Texas. To see him hit a golf ball and tote his bag while witnessing intense focus on the golf course was enlightening. I was a marshall at the US Open when an extremely focused Johnny Miller won and set the course record at Oakmont.14d7c856-bf4a-4b95-ada5-4359dd6b415c I have witnessed Lance Armstrong ride up Sycamore Street in the Thrift Drug Classic here in Pittsburgh several years ago before his cancer. My brother in law who said to me,” I thought you quit riding bikes when you were 14″ marveled at the athleticism and conditioning of the world class cyclists at this event. It opened his eyes for sure seeing that he only thought athletes put on pads and hit people.
Ratchet up the experience one more notch and I have been fortunate enough to participate in an event or a venue where I have witnessed a world class athlete perform with me alongside. I had the pleasure of riding with Greg LeMond at charity cycling events.DSC00468 80 miles a day with the 3 time Tour de France champion. He was not in TDF shape at all and older, but you could still see the strength in his thighs on the flats and the speed at which he took turns on the road. I have skied behind Phil Mahre the ex World Cup ski race champion and Olympic gold medalist. It was amazing to me to see his really strong turns skiing right behind him. No skidding, just pure carved turns leaving trenches in the snow behind him. His strength was amazing. Riding the chairlift with him was enjoyable as he told tales of the World Cup and the U.S. Ski Team.hqdefault I have raced in club road cycling criterium races where people like Matt Eaton ( former US National Champion and Britain’s Milk Race champion) come flying by me on the inside giving me pointers and instructions as he led the pack. The club races often combined classes and it gave us normal racers a chance to ride with the good guys. It was amazing to witness the speed and technical ability in which they took the turns in the race with a tight pack of riders all around.
So what actually makes an athlete world class? Like “epic” and “extreme”, “world class”, is often overused but a truly world class athlete is an individual that has devoted his or her life to their sport. They are often singularly focused and have been willing to make personal sacrifices in order to achieve their goals. Oftentimes, their focus has caused them to be selfish or self serving but in order to achieve, sometimes you have to have that “take no prisoners” attitude in order to be successful. But in my mind, a truly world class athlete or individual is one who can encompass all the attributes of athleticism but has a perspective on the world around them which supports their efforts. Take Joan Benoit Samuelson- the 1984 Olympic Marathon Women’s gold medalist.maine-joan-benoit-samuelson I had the good fortune of meeting her at the Boston Marathon Nike Expo. She had been in the booth a long time and when I finally made it through the line to meet her, I told her that her former ski racing coach Jace Pasquale said hello. Joan stopped whatever she was doing and was truly interested in how Jace was doing. We chatted for what seemed an eternity only about Jace. Joan was not focused on her reputation or accomplishments, only what was going on in the life of her old ski coach. She was so pleasant and unassuming that I walked away thinking to myself,” what a nice, non- self centered person.”
There are a lot of world class athletes like Joan Benoit Samuelson who use their talents and reputations to serve others. Joan is involved in many charitable causes in New England. There are also those athletes who do not focus on life outside of their sport. The impressive thing to me is to meet or see in action those that do care and think about life outside their athletic box. We may not have the talent, time, or willingness to be a world class athlete. But in my mind, we can be a world class person by caring for someone in need, being a friend to someone who is down in the dumps, sharing our knowledge about our favorite sport or hobby with someone who is just starting out. To me, we can be world class by caring. That is a trait that is not limited to athletes but can be applied to all of us who have a world class attitude towards others with whom we come in contact. Be world class!! Thanks for reading.