GregsOpinion.com

First off, the title tips off the nonsequential pattern of this topic. One guilty little pleasure is touring via Microsoft's Terraserver. Punch in a location, and zip off to tour it by satellite.

In today's episode, we go back to an old haunt of mine: Euless, Texas. A suburb of Ft. Worth, Euless is part of the thriving Hurst-Euless-Bedford region just southwest of DFW Airport. To start things off, let's get an overview:

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The family moved hereabouts after residing in Mississippi for 5 years. Considering that when we moved to Mississippi, I hadn't really had very many memorable & formative experiences in Pasadena, TX, I'll someday do a Part 1 covering the Sunflower County years. In fairness to Pasadena, I do recall that we lived next door to some great neighbors, the house across the street had the literal biggest yard in the world to play in, we had our first dogs (Fred & Ed - beagles), and I got to fire off a gun. Had I worked in a ride on the mechanical bull at Gilley's I would have lived the Pasadena dream, I suppose.

Moving back to Texas was a big deal for the family. When we moved off to that other state, mom made sure that I had a couple of Texas history books suitable for a kid my age (6). I'm not 100% sure, but I think they made it back to Texas despite some roughing up by both my sister and a pet Basset Hound (Claude or Bo, not sure which). Needless to say, we Wythes had and still have a pretty strong fixation of ourselves as Texans. Mom would later cross the US/Mexican border back into El Paso on a vacation (UH's lone Sun Bowl appearance) and when confronted with the question of which country we were from, she blurted out "Texas." Just so ya know.

By the time we settled into Euless, the place was on a bit of an upswing it seems. Not really a big suburban metropolis, although we lived in a mega-apartment complex - the likes of which I have never seen before in my life. Sotogrande was a pretty decent social experience for all its ups and downs. You never went hurting for friends and enemies as the place was a haven for young families. All my best friends lived in the apartments and I really didn't have to go outside of that terrain for any more. Sure, I could have ... but you get the idea.

After a few years to round out elementary school, walking to Jr. High was a snap. No bus, just cut through a fence to get a shortcut and it was a 10 minute hike. Most mornings would involve a stopover at a friend's house ... also involved the ritual of catching Three Stooges reruns before heading off to weigh ore serious topics like "Prealgebra" or "Def Leppard" or "that choir chick is really hot." Hey, I said it was Junior High!

More amazing to me in hindsight was the summer ritual of mine. Now back up and remember my strong geekdom heritage, wholly self-inflicted. But back when summers either meant loafing around a pre-cable house, watching all the Wimbledon coverage you could muster, developing strange hobbies (for a brief while, I got into architectural drafting ... loved the equipment for it. I had a handful of sports stadiums drafted up that I maintain were far superior than anything you see today. 'Course, they're all trash now, so none of that is verifiable.)

One of the escapes was to ride the bike over to the library in Hurst. Check the map. If it looks like a hike, its because it was ... 2.8 miles, to be precise! And this was not flatland Houston ... that Climb of Death was JUST that! Oh sure, it may have only been a 30-40 foot climp according to Terraserver, but it was steep. The ride home was a snap because of it. But getting there was a laborios adventure. Not the least of reasons was due to there being no really safe sidewalk riding, save for a few strip centers here and there. Every once in a while, I'd manage to talk a friend into riding up there with me and they never did so again due to that hill. The library wasn't really all that, it was just the place to go for a little information gathering. Guess that sums up the beginnings of a news junkie.

On days when I'd tapped the full potential of the library, I could always head over to North East Mall. But just to get the real sense of what defines a suburban metropolis, check out how close North Hills Mall is. Literally, across the highway. And surprisingly, both malls were relatively successful. Back in the day, North East seemed to have it going on, but North Hills had the lone Sanger Harris before that chain closed up. They also had more real estate to work with. As I left town later on, the malls both had their merits with North Hills gaining fast. Last time I was there, North East was pretty much an afterthought. The entire section of Hurst, from North East Mall, to the library, to the Target ... all pretty much withering away now, as growth seems to be going on north of this region.

That Target was one of my first, best, real jobs. Technically, the Denny's across from Trinity High School was the first. But dishwashing only goes so far. At Target, I had real responsibility. I also lucked out in that the managers I had were really good at dealing with irrational teenagers.

Some other highlights by air, but not documented ... to the eastern corner of Central Junior High is a Dairy Queen that had the best assortment of video games you could find. Not that they had a lot, but they had the classics: Pac Man, Mrs Pac Man, Dig Dug, Galaxian, etc .... A couple of bucks worth of ice cream and a ton more into the machines, and that was a day. Worked out real nice for us dweebs until we all got to working age. Seems one of the "cool chicks" got a job there and it was a real drag on our serious discussions on maze patterns for the Mrs Pac Man game. There's also a small strip center along the way between Sotogrande & the malls ... a movie theater with two screens is among them. When E.T. came out, it ran for over 30 weeks. I kid you not. I'm pretty sure Return of the Jedi had a shorter run at that theater. Alas, it wasn't the best theater in town ... that was at North East Mall. Once snuck in to see Class with my brother & sister and that remains the sole reason I have any recollection of that damned movie. Sure, it was better than, say, sneaking in to see Barton Fink, but not by much.

The northern border of Sotogrande & Central Jr. High are along Pipeline Road. So named due to the oil & gas pipeline that runs underneath it. While I grew up in the later Cold War years, one was never far from fear when you know all it took was some shrapnel from the nearby defense contractor to land just so and the entire street would blow up quicker than a Pinto hit from behind. In fact, during all the Nuclear Winter fear talk, DFW was pimping itself as a worthy target for Mother Russia to hit due to all the pork-laden defense contractors in the area. It was a morbid sense of pride we had back then. I hope it's changed.

Another low-light for Euless is that the soccer fields behind the school were stage to a KKK rally once upon a time in the 80s, complete with burning crosses. That seems to get tucked under the memory banks, though, as I recall watching Trinity High beat state powerhouse Odessa Permian in what used to be Pennington Field on the west of the Jr. High. There was a running back on that Permain team I'd never forget: Rod Bernstein - later with the Denver Broncos after a stopover at Texas A&M. He was dominant in that game and we won it 14-13 (I think) after stopping Bernstein on a last second two-point conversion. From then on, I knew the joy of staying true to one sports team per sport come good or bad. The good was just too thrilling.

While on the topic of sports, I should parallel our family's Texas fixation with our similarly odd Houston fixation Even though we had moved back to Texas, our mission as a family was not complete. We'd still pack it into a car and head to H-town for about 4 football games a season. I was pretty pumped to get into the first Cotton Bowl my parents would take me to (1980). We won 17-14 on a magnificent Terry Elston pass that mirrored another late winning pass at the A&M game (our first win at College Station ever!). Don't think I never let mom & dad forget that. After the first two trips to Dallas (a win over Maryland and a blown call that cost us a deserved win against Joe Montana's Notre Dame), I knew I was the good luck charm this team needed. Of course, we wouldn't make it back to the Cotton Bowl till 1985, losing to Doug Flutie's Boston College team. By then, I think we all knew the jig was up.

But I also got my first look at a freshman basketball player named Akeem Olajuwon. I expected him to tower over everyone else, knowing clearly from my pre-Algebra class that the difference between a 7-footer and a 6'9 player was WAYYYY more than three inches. Hmmm, come to think of it, maybe I shoulda spent less time staring at the choir chick. The man who pointed him out to me was a guy named Guy V. Lewis. Great guy, wonder whatever happened to him. I kid, of course. Guy Lewis is the single most genuinely nice human being you would ever meet. I ran into him at a poorly attended UH football game, stopped to talk to him & you'd have sworn he had known me like a brother for the last two decades. I figure if I bump into him tomorrow, I'd get much the same reaction. The warm place many of us Coogs still have in our hearts for UH basketball is still due primarily to the place this man created there for it. That sort of loyalty gets you through a lot.

Ironically, I never really did well in sports for all this weird fascination. Baseball was the sport I loved to play the most. It was a summertime sport, so there were no conflicts with school. But I was the only one of my little gang of friends who played it. So somewhere, the developmental process was shortchanged. Also sucked that I never realized I needed glasses till I asked the lady at the DMV where the focus knob was on the eye test machine. Six years of "what could have been" in Little League went flashing before my eyes. Suffice it to say, things were a little blurry.

The baseball bug hit back in Mississippi, where everyone played it. It was effectively Day Care for us kids. By the time we got back to Texas, this thing was a bit more organized. They actually had a fence backstop instead of chickenwire. Gotta tell ya, that was impressive to see.

Best year was with the Giants. Two reasons for this: we sucked and I had two of the best teammates I'd ever play little league with: Tim James and Randall O'Malley. How can we suck? In hindsight, I suspect coach made a bargain with the other coaches when he got Tim James. Tim was a naturally gifted athlete that had to be seen to believed. At a mere 5'9, he was literally the fastest man alive. I'll stand by that statement till the day I die. Dude ran track and I suspect he won every race he ran. He was also our star tailback in High School football. In baseball, however, he was a god. There was nothing he could not do. The first home run I ever saw in little league was from Tim James' bat. And he did it several times over. Everyone knew who the best player was in that league and there was no disputing it. Outfields would play to his tendency. Pitchers would walk him only to see Tim steal second, third, and then home. He even pitched once or twice ... he wasn't half-bad at that either. Tim would go on to get a baseball scholarship at a small Texas school. He may not have gone on to be the biggest name in MLB, but still rank his highlight reel plays up there with all the best.

A bigger worry with the team was what would develop with the rest of this gangly bunch. Randall was the surprise breakout and I still recall when it happened. For whatever reason, we had only one man who could pitch for an extra inning game. I think Tim might have pitched earlier on. But Randall was the last one up there and it was up to him to keep us in the game. I don't recall if we won or lost, but Randall kept it going long enough to warrant an ice bag afterwards. He wasn't the greatest pitcher in the world, but he was good enough and his workmanlike approach to the game spread among the rest of us. Randall would go on to make the High School team. I would go on to get cut on the first day of tryouts in my Sophomore year of High School When I learned later that I needed glasses, I should have demanded Coach for another try at the batting cage.

My own skills were limited, but I knew how to game the little league system. See, pitchers that young were still learning. Me? I was fearless at the plate. I couldn't hit anything, but I'd step up there, crowd the plate, make the pitcher afraid he'd hit me, and gather my walk over to first base. In little league, the bases are also 60 feet apart. Stealing second was a given for the handful of us who had a good feel for the timing of any pitcher. I was good for an effective double as much as any true hitter was. I knew my time had come when I was leading off the batting order so that Tim James could knock me in as a run. I think I was near the top in Batting Average, too: .333 ... as in 1-for-3. A full season of little league, and I had something like three at bats. I never counted the walks or the HBP. Shame of it all is that I also didn't calculate my On Base Percentage. I may still hold the record.

When the Giant's season began, I had the obligatory crappy-player position of right or left field. I hated it. Damn mosquitos were even making me question my devotion to baseball. I also had that eyesight problem and fly balls were still a mystery to me. Coach knew the odds of a ball being shot my way were slim, but when it happened, it was a hit. I had the mechanics of the grounder down, though. I was smart enough to read the situation and the runner to know where to throw to. I wasn't as brazen as many little leaguers were then in missing the cut off man on the long throws in. But fly balls were my doom.

By the time the season was a total waste, coach came to practice and determined to make the game fun for us once more. He told us to take any position we wanted and we'd try this from scratch. Without hesitation, I headed to second base. After a little fielding practice, the other kid who thought he had a claim to it moved elsewhere. I had found my domain. Coach, and others knew that I was a rock in the middle of the infield. I'd watched too much Joe Morgan to be anything less (I had him down to the microsized glove I insisted on wearing). Add in a little Ozzie Smith reckless abandon, and that sums up my approach to the position. I still shake my head at any second baseman who lets a reachable ball get past him. It never happened on my watch. I never got compliments on my play save for three occassions: I hit two triples in my career - both feats I have yet to understand how they happened ... I also had one game where I carried the team with a sampling of fielding genius. The game, however, was called due to rain. God clearly had a message about my baseball future. When I noticed that Tim James was willing to play Centerfield behind me due to the creativity it gave him in knowing he didn't have to worry about grounder slipping through, I finally felt like a pretty important little cog in this newfound baseball machine. To this day, however, I still consider myself a second baseman and Joe Morgan's insane ramblings are easily forgiven on my part. I have no recollection of what our won-loss record was after that little shakeup coach pulled. But we had a blast playing after that.

I'll leave it to the reader to determine how those sports memories fit into the equation of these formative years. Call it good fun or learning experiences as you wish. At a minimum, they were the dots worth connecting over those years. At one point on the way towards High School, a friend and I looked out our bus windows and the friend imparted: "Ya know, in about ten years, all this open space will be full of shopping centers and restaurants and we'll hardly recognize it." The last time I went back, his words had been borne out. It was pretty obvious by then, that despite another major oil bust or some sort of recession, we'd see that little hidden corner of land become something bigger ... be it worse or better. Now Euless has a practice facility for the NHL Dallas Stars, a slew of new Restaurant Row areas, several more shopping centers, and everything you could possibly imagine. Ironic then, that I'd bemoaned the closure of the roller rink in Hurst across from the library.