By Tim McGrath
We all need people in our corner, our own personal cheerleaders. Take Weiner, for example. As the story goes, Weiner was in the outfield. He was having a rough time shagging fly balls, high pop-ups, and those sneaky bouncing grounders that go every which way. As one who played his share of right field in my earlier years, I could relate to Weiner’s plight. It all just seems to compound the more you play. One flub leads to another, then three more. Confidence flies out the window, knees go wobbly, mouth dries, time stands still. Just you and that stinking little ball.
According to the storyteller, a high fly was headed Weiner’s way. I imagine as the reality of what was happening dawned on Weiner, the sight of the little white orb hurtling in a high arc his way created some performance anxiety, given the past issues. As the ball headed in Weiner’s direction, a collective gasp rose from the crowd, each holding their breath. All seated in the bleachers knew the chances of a botched effort were a stark possibility. In silence they watched the ball heading toward Weiner, hoping against hope. Just then, as the ball reached its zenith, a clarion call rang out loud and true, “Weiner, catch the ball!” It was Weiner’s mom.
I’d like to think this had a wonderfully happy ending: Weiner snagging the ball for the final out, his teammates swarming him, lifting him high in the air, the beginning of a new and wonderful chapter in his life. Truth is, the storyteller couldn’t remember what happened. The shock of Weiner’s mom yelling in support of the little fella was all that remained. A little disappointing, I know. We all want those happily-ever-afters.
The happy ending isn’t the point of the whole thing, of course. The very act of someone in Weiner’s corner encouraging him, cheering him on, in spite of the outcome- that’s the point. Many of us have lived these moments of high drama that mirror little Weiner’s. Maybe it was a parent, coach, teacher, or friend that stood behind us, yelling encouragement in our direction just when it was needed most. I’d also wager those moments are quite unforgettable.
Perhaps, even life changing….
“He’s definitely college material,” Mrs. Koets, my second-grade teacher, told Mom at parent teacher conferences one spring afternoon. This was big stuff for her, as I heard it repeatedly throughout the next ten years of schooling. I didn’t give it much thought, really. I wanted to be a cigar chomping Marine like Sgt. Rock, my comic book hero. That is, until the Vietnam War came along, and the glory of battle looked a lot different than the comic book version. I thought being a scientist would be kind of cool; perhaps a marine biologist, or forest ranger. At any rate, being college material wasn’t much I dwelt on. By late high school, though, a little bell tinkled in my head asking, “just what are you going to do once this whole high school thing is finished?”
I was no student, in spite of what Mrs. Koets told Mom all that long time ago. I don’t remember taking books home to study for the big test, or writing those important term papers. Guess I got most of what I needed to do finished in class or study hall. At any rate, I graduated somewhere in the middle of my high school class. Good enough.
My college career at Calvin College commenced that fall. Didn’t take long to figure out I was in the deep end, with absolutely no understanding of what I was doing. I wondered what Mrs. Koets would think of her little “college material” kid now? Even registering for classes was a nightmare. Back then, you were assigned a time to go to the fieldhouse where tables were set up and professors of the various courses were located. You’d go up to the table, ask to register for such-and-such a class. They’d OK it, or not, depending on whether it was full. If you lucked out, all your classes were still available, and they’d fit nice and tidy-like into a workable schedule. I had no knowledge of such things. And, I was the very last group to register on the last day of registration. By the time I got to register, many classes were full. By some bit of good fortune, though, an upperclassman saw me wandering aimlessly from one table in the fieldhouse to the next. It was painfully obvious I needed some help. I was trying to sign up for all the wrong classes only to be told they were for upperclassmen; what’s wrong with you? He took me aside and showed how to block out classes that were 100 – level core classes, the ones all freshmen take. Even escorted me to the various tables and got me signed up so I had a workable schedule.
That’s when he said,” Uh, oh. You’ve got Tiemersma for English 100. Good luck, man. You’re going to need it. I’ve got to go. See you around, maybe…”. Well, I just might need good luck, but at that point having a jigsaw puzzle schedule of classes that actually fit together was all I cared about. Tiemersma will just have to wait until…, let’s see…, next Monday, Wednesday, Friday from 9:00 until 9:50.
English 100. Composition and grammar. A strict core requirement for all students, usually taken in the freshman year. Pass this class and you’re handed the keys to the kingdom. Failure is not an option, there’s no remedial English, this is it. Trouble was, I really didn’t know much about either composition or grammar. What composition and grammar I did know came from elementary school days and eighth grade English class – a lifetime ago. I suppose I’d had some kind of composition and grammar in high school, yet most of what I remember about high school English involved finding “the deeper meaning” in literature. Always about “the deeper meaning”.
Monday morning, first day of classes. I’d just come from my eight o’clock, Chemistry 151, where we were told make sure you’ve got a slide rule for lab this Thursday. Slide rule? Isn’t that one of those weird little ruler things? Bet they might have them at Kmart; guess I’ll have to check it out. Now it was nine o’clock, the time of reckoning – English 100, and the dreaded Tiemersma. I finally found the room, wandered in, settled into my seat, front and center of the lectern – the only seat left in the place. Seemingly from out of nowhere, in swooped Dr. Richard Tiemersma. Tall, gangly, bespectacled. Rumpled suit, battered brown leather briefcase, deep intimidating voice. Not one to be trifled with.
“Your first composition will be due one week from today; late work will not be accepted. Three to five pages. In addition, please read chapters one through three in your Composition and Grammar text for next class. Be ready to discuss – participation is required.” OK, got it.
My graded composition was the last in the pile he passed out during class the following week. Red marks everywhere. More red marks than writing. Question marks, arrows pointing every which way, insert marks, cross outs. Then, at the bottom, double circled in red, “D”. Scrawled underneath: “lack of idea development, organization, poor grammatical structures. College-level papers must always be typed – double-spaced, NOT handwritten and torn from spiral bound notebook. Very poor work!”
This scene repeated itself the next two papers, except I did type them: double-spaced, of course. The third paper received a “D+”, so there’s that. In addition to the blazing critique, the words ``please see me” were written in a somewhat gentler hand under the rest of the vitriol. After class I cautiously approached the feared man, and handed him my latest failed effort. “Come with me,” was all he said.
I didn’t realize it at the time but it was the beginning of something quite remarkable. Each week, I’d wander into Dr. Tiemersma’s office for several hours of intensive work developing my composition and grammar skills. He carefully coached, tutored, cajoled, and ranted, all the while chain smoking Alpine cigarettes. And, never once, did he question my ability or intelligence. That’s when the turnaround began.
Slowly, oh so slowly, the “D” became a “C-“, then “C+”. By the time the semester came to an end, I got a “B-“on the final paper. All it said at the bottom was “Better”. The whole composition and grammar thing was finally beginning to make sense. I don’t remember what my final grade in English 100 was, yet I passed. I’ll take it.
As the next few years raced by, I’d become a confident, mostly successful college student – a far cry from those initial disasters. From time to time I’d see Dr. Tiemersma still swooping from one place to another, battered leather briefcase swinging jauntily at his side. I think it was my senior year when I saw him stopped outside a classroom admiring some recently added artwork. I had to tell him.
“Hi, Dr. Tiemersma, good afternoon; do you remember me?” He turned, eyeing me carefully.
“Why, of course, Mr. McGrath. How are things faring for you in our hallowed halls?”
“Very well, sir. I’m in my senior year now. Believe it or not, I’m going to be a teacher! I just have my student teaching to finish. When I saw you standing here, I knew I needed to stop and thank you for your help when I was a freshman in English 100. If it hadn’t been for you, I don’t know what I would have done. So, thank you for your patience and encouragement. It was exactly what I needed. What I’d like to know, though, is why did you spend so much time with me when it was obvious from the start I was far below the rest of the class?”
“I do remember our sessions that semester. I also recall the extraordinary progress you made in those weeks. It was a delight for me to witness. So, the simple answer, Mr. McGrath, is you are college material, and you just needed someone to illuminate the way.”
By Ken De Laat
“The rain is falling all around,
It falls on field and tree,
It rains on the umbrellas here,
And on the ships at sea.” -Robert Louis Stevenson, A Child’s Garden of Verses
OK Mom Nature. We get the message. Be careful what we ask for.
Following a spring drought that fostered a gypsy moth population explosion, lowered lake and river levels and demanded a daily hose handled soaking of the gardens at N3 World Headquarters the citizenry began clamoring for an urgent delivery of the wet stuff.
Pleas went generally unheeded through much of April, all of May and a good hunk of June.
Then this week the appeals seemed to get heard and so, came the rains.
For the past few days we have done a pretty good impression of Seattle in winter. It’s not been the occasional shower. No no, we’re talking monsoonish type torrents pummeling the landscape with a (granted, much needed) soaking.
But enough already. The forecast calls for a pretty good chance of rain each day for at least the next week or so and while we were desperate in our need for some county wide hydration it is after all, summertime in the Mitten. A state, mind you, not known for lengthy months of warm weather. So each day the rain continues throughout the daylight hours it takes out one of the precious few days when outdoor frolicking is at its peak.
So can we modify those requests a bit? Maybe a few less daytime deluges and a shift to more pre-dawn precipitation? Perhaps a steady 11pm-4am shower every third day or so?
C'mon Mom. It’s summertime and we want to play outside.
By Doug Harmon
As the spring days fade away and summer proceeds to take over, most people are sharing stories of the mushrooms they recently found or the deer sheds they discovered on their spring hikes. Talk is of planting flowers or their upcoming gardening chores ahead of them. Not for my wife Holly. One of her exciting times of the year is the snapping turtle's egg laying season. For about a month, two weeks pre-Memorial day to two weeks post Memorial Day snapping turtles lay their eggs.
For twenty five years my wife Holly and I have been the owners and caretakers of a parcel of land on the White River. This land has been in the family for fifty years and every year the turtles make their way up a 20' embankment to lay their eggs.
Semi-retirement is allowing us to spend more time observing the exciting movement of the snapping turtle. With the enthusiasm and excitement of an opening morning deer hunt, my wife awakens at 6 a.m. to start her morning turtle watch. Sipping on her coffee from the porch, binoculars in hand, she watches at first from a distance, giving the graceful turtles their privacy. Then the excitement overwhelms her and she has to get a little closer to observe this circle of life.
Routinely there will be 4-6 turtles each morning. Some days only one lonely turtle has the area to herself, some mornings the number will be as high as 12.
All of the turtle egg laying activity takes place in a 20' x 20' area. Most egg laying activity is done by late morning. The heat of the day takes over and the turtles rush to the 20' bank they had conquered to lay their eggs and they simply enjoy a tumbling slide back into the river.
In the fifty years of family ownership only once, my wife's grandpa Anderson, has someone witnessed this mythological hatching of an entire nest of turtle eggs.
On my wife's bucket list is to witness this phenomenon. We do see hatchlings from time to time but have never witnessed the entire nest at one time.
Her vigil includes keeping pesky critters of all fashion away from the eggs to allow the eggs to hatch, which takes about 30 days. Her enthusiasm has drifted over to some of our family and friends, who are also enjoying the simplicity and ceremonial task momma turtle goes through to complete the circle of life.
It has to be said that sometimes Mother Nature provides us with the most simple forms of satisfaction if we slow down long enough to look!
Reader takes issue with State Senator's stance on elections
To The Editor:
This Memorial Day I remembered the American heroes who gave the ultimate sacrifice to help protect America’s democracy. Unfortunately, I also had to wonder why our Michigan State Senator, Jon Bumstead, is working so hard to undermine that same hard-fought democracy by parroting completely baseless claims about election fraud.
The week before Memorial Day, I, like everyone else in the area, received a postcard flyer from Jon’s office touting his support of various unnecessary election “reforms.” His postcard said that Michigan’s election integrity is in question and that confidence needs to be restored. However, given the outrageous lies upon which this “election integrity package” is built, the only thing missing integrity is Senator Bumstead.
Senator Bumstead is using his position of power and possibly tax dollars to spread propaganda that directly undermines our democracy by creating fear and distrust in our election process. He is not working for Michigan residents when he alleges impropriety in our election without evidence. He is working for himself and serving his political party, endorsing completely false claims of voter fraud all in an effort to stay in power.
Senator Bumstead’s flier speaks of voter integrity, implying that the voting process in Michigan is corrupt. This is the same voting system that got him and many of his GOP members re-elected. Let's be clear, Mr. Bumstead and the GOP legislature are intent on making voting more difficult for Michigan voters by limiting the amount of time to count ballots, making it more difficult to vote absentee which makes it more difficult for veterans, working women and men, and elderly to vote, and limiting the availability of ballot drop-off boxes.
If you want to improve voter integrity, Senator, introduce a measure to allow more time to count absentee ballots. Currently Michigan only allows one extra day to count absentee ballots, which turns out to be a monumental task during a disruption like a pandemic. Allow online voting, it's safe enough to pay my taxes and renew my drivers license online. Auto-register voters when they renew their driver's license. Expand early voting to reduce lines, thus expanding access for those who are unable to get to the polls on a Tuesday in November.
There is no issue more important than the defense of American democracy. It is unacceptable to have members of our state legislature prop up the Big Lie because their chosen candidate did not win.
Your efforts, Senator Bumstead, are a gross distortion and misrepresentation of facts around the 2020 election. The propaganda that you spread is a danger to the state of Michigan by sowing distrust and fear that destroy confidence in our elections system. There is nothing more Un-American than that.
An update on this years version of Detroit baseball
By Ken De Laat
After 55 games the Tigers are one game better than last year and possess the same record as they did in 2019.
In ‘19, the last regular length season, they proceeded to take that 23-32 record into June where they ended up going 5-20 before following it up with an identical 5-20 July.
But this year will be different. You can write (type) it down.
My previous ‘Take on the Tig’s’ earlier this season expressed my long nurtured pessimism forged by decades of disappointment in Detroit sports. It seems in those years when the Tigers have already cashed it in (generally mid August or so) here comes the Lions and we all know what they do to a sports loving soul. And don’t get me started on the more recent versions of the Pistons and Wings.
And yet despite hovering near the cellar, if not residing in it, since the season onset there exists a glimmer of hope taking shape at Michigan and Trumb...oops... I mean whatever streets CoPa is on.
They’re getting some nasty pitching from their young starters, a few guys that are supposed to hit are starting to and they don’t seem to be rolling over once they get behind. There’s a bit of spark to this collection of players who might not be starting on some of the better teams, but seem to be finding where they fit and taking advantage of it.
And waiting in the wings are more live arms and a few unproven but singing with potential bats polishing their skills down on the farm.
This year? Nope. No pennant race. The Sox (hate ‘em but not nearly at the loathing level of the Yankees) are likely going to walk away with the division and there are way too many teams the Bengals would have to overtake to get even a whiff of a wildcard race.
But they're finally a bit fun to watch, especially Akil Baddoo who possesses the best baseball name for a Tiger since Coot Veal. Even the beloved Miggy, with his seemingly sempiternal contract, while still struggling to reach Mendoza is getting some key knocks from time to time.
Yep, a glimmer of hope.
I was just turning 17 when they won it all in ‘68 and in my mid 30’s during the magic of ‘84.
And while those 16 years seemed like an eternity...
Now it’s been 37.
At least for awhile.
Local Community Steps Up to support Local Family
In October 2020 Rob Slate, formerly of Fremont, passed away unexpectedly.
Rob was an avid sports enthusiast and loved tennis, soccer, snowboarding and mountain biking. Rob is the son of Dan and Lori Slate. His untimely passing inspired the creation of a fundraising project to sponsor a bridge on the new Dragon Trail at Hardy Dam. Thank you to the many contributors that have supported the effort so far.
To date just over $18,000 has been raised towards our goal of $35,000.
One final push is in the works to obtain our goal.
Contributions can be mailed to
Fremont Area Community Foundation
4424 W 48th St.
Fremont, Mi. 49412
Or go online
Select "donate" button to go to FACF donation page for the Dragon
Indicate that the tribute is in honor of Rob Slate.
N3 -Peg Mathis has provided exceptional leadership during her time at Newaygo Public. Always accessible, decidedly competent and a master at performing the difficult balancing act the job requires, she has served the Newaygo community with courage and commitment.
Dr. Mathis truly possesses the heart of a Lion and she will be missed as she sets off on whatever path she chooses in her post retirement life.
She posted this letter to the community and with her kind permission we have shared it in our pages.
May 28, 2021
Pride and respect. It’s been my theme during a wonderful ten years as the Superintendent of Newaygo Public Schools. Truth is constant, and this has remained true from my first day to my last. Starting this afternoon, I’ll be out of the office and away from my daily travels around the district to work on the next chapter of my life (some call it retirement).
I'm hopeful that I'm young enough, healthy enough, and supported by family/friends enough to write a great second chapter. You may be able to find me on a boat, a bike, or hiking trail somewhere in Newaygo County with the breeze blowing on any hair I didn’t pull out during my time in education.
My forever gratitude to the men and women who have made (the retirees before me) and those that now make (current Lions) Newaygo Public Schools the best school anywhere. There is not a finer or more dedicated group of people amassed on earth. Please find a teacher or administrator today and tell them thanks. Support your educators.
My eternal thanks to the students and parents of Newaygo. The community values, work ethic, and ability to rise to any challenge are unmatched. The deep bonds in this community are real, as is the welcoming spirit for newcomers.
I urge others to join the ranks of educators (teacher, aide, bus driver, cook, secretary, etc.) or the legions of deeply valued school volunteers. It sure beats complaining. Without your support, the schools simply do not function as well.
Thanks to God for opening the right doors that brought me to Newaygo. I’ve tried to lead in a way that is worthy of the grace He shows us all. I firmly believe God has a special place for those that care for and lead our youth.
As I close out my time here I’m thankful for the great foundation the district has for the future. We have a solid leadership team, phenomenal staff, good facilities, and are on firm financial footing. I strongly encourage the district to continue to focus on education and not get stuck in the quagmire of politics and virtue signaling. Deviation from educational goals and priorities to chase after the issue of the day is a waste of limited time and resources. This path hasn’t served students and has split many communities. Keep it about the kids and education.
This is home. I’m thankful that both of my kids graduated from Newaygo and my husband and I will remain in the community. I can always be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.
With LION PRIDE and RESPECT FOR NEWAYGO,
Retiring Superintendent of Newaygo Public Schools
Photos by Jodie McGarry
Story By Ken DeLaat
Deputy Jason Fritsma used his CPR training to bring back an unresponsive woman, allowing her to regain a pulse and breathe on her own.
When a White Cloud Library patron suffered a heart attack Deputy Tyler Selby arrived and immediately began CPR followed closely behind by Sgt C.J. Freriks who administered the AED that got the man to the hospital for heart surgery.
And when Deputies Joshua Clapp and Chuck Myers were called to the scene where a 12 year old drowning victim was unresponsive they immediately took action performing CPR and using their defibrillator to shock the young girl who ended up making a full recovery.
This Fab Five of the Newaygo County Sheriff’s Office received Lifesaving Awards at the recent Newaygo County Board of Commissioners meeting.
Also honored were Sgt Dylan Wimmer as Patrol Deputy of the Year, Deputy Trevor Sherman as Corrections Deputy of the Year and Deputy Justin Visser who received a service award for his many years on the Emergency Response Team.
Sheriff Bob Mendham delivered the accolades to the honorees with co-workers, family, elected officials and members of the community on hand to capture the moment as each officer was greeted with a hearty round of applause from the crowd. The commissioners also delivered personal congratulations and gratitude for their service.
It was a day to celebrate the best of what law enforcement does. The men and women who go about their jobs never having a clue what the day (or night) might bring and yet being prepared for whatever gets tossed at them during their shift. They are the backbone of public safety in our county. The front liners who take care of situations when they get out of hand, The people who get called on to handle dangerous circumstances, resolve escalating conflicts and sometimes, sometimes…
Save a life.
About a year or so ago I went on a ride-along with Deputy Nichole Loomis on a summer Saturday. From finding the friends of a large intoxicated guy walking home down the middle of the road (to Grand Rapids, some 35 miles from where we found him) wearing just a swimsuit who assured her the stab wound he had on his arm was ‘no big deal’, breaking up a family fight at a campground, and flushing out a B&E suspect hiding in the bushes who was unlikely to be in a state of sobriety, Officer Loomis handled each situation with an impressive combination of skill and smarts.
Having always held a deep admiration for people who are really really good at what they do, she gained my utmost respect for her work that night.
And it was only one night. She and her brethren are out there every night and every day as well. They’re not perfect, they make mistakes, but, man, when they come through they really come through.
Maybe you’re chagrined about getting that speeding ticket or a little cheesed off because your complaint about the party next door didn’t get handled to your satisfaction.
But among others who have benefited from the life saving efforts of Newaygo County’s Law Enforcement folks is a young girl who will see her teenage years and hopefully many more decades on this Earth
Because of what they do.
By Ken De Laat
While writing this, it is morning and it's snowing at N3 World Headquarters and Oriole Spa.
On May 10th.
Just 3 weeks away from Memorial Day, the tail end of the weekend that kicks off summertime in this bipeninsular paradise.
And while it didn’t last and no discernable whiteness touched the ground without immediately dissolving, I gotta admit I’m a little cheesed off by it.
Look, I was born in this state, pretty much lived in one part or another since then. I get it. It happens. It’s not like I’m going to stay mad or anything. You live here, you learn how to forgive when it comes to Mitten meteorology.
Besides, to quote my long departed and never forgotten Mother when confronted with yet another in a lengthy series of missteps made by her youngest child.
“I’m not mad…..I’m just disappointed.”
If you haven’t been taking in the high bar journalism coming out of The Bridge, you’re missing some of the best news coverage of state issues to be found in either peninsula.
This week they did a story on diversity with regard to school superintendents. Seems the field in our state is predominantly white and male which, coincidentally, is the same makeup of a great deal of school boards.
The story’s worthwhile, but we mention it because they posted a gallery of 20 supe shots to represent the gender and demographics of current school chiefs across the state. 15 of the photos were men and 5 were women representing the approximate percentage of women who hold these positions in the state's 578 traditional public schools.
One of the five was our own Dr. Lori Tubergen Clark of NC RESA and Big Jackson.
And until June our county also has Dr. Peg Mathis at the helm of Newaygo Public.
Interesting part of the piece pointed out that 77% of educators in traditional public schools are female while 77% of supes are male.
Maybe interesting isn’t the right word.
It’s been tough to find outdoor music this spring... mostly because it’s been cold for so doggone long and we’re all tired of it and today it snowed and...and..
Sorry...still shedding a little disappointment I guess. Back to task.
In the mood for some hump day live music in a beer garden atmosphere? On Wednesday starting at 7pm over in Montague (one of our favorite coastal towns) you can grab a brew and some eats, sit outside (bring a coat. It’s still going to be a bit chilly) and listen to recording artist Beth Bombara croon her tunes. This is all going down at North Grove Brewers on Water street across from Montague Foods. For those who enjoy Oatmeal Stout that we understand their offering called ‘Return of the Obie’ has an extensive fan club.
“A flash of inspiration struck him with all the force and brilliance that ideas have when they’re traveling through beer.”-Terry Pratchett
Tiger team tests the limits of loyalty
By Ken De Laat
Anyone who is acquainted with me is likely aware of the unending devotion given to the baseball team that plays their games just a few hours from our corner of this bipeninsular paradise.
My loyalty to the Tig’s was forged in the mid to late 50’s so there has never been the highest of expectations and hope was often a mainstay of May before dissolving into a summer of ennui followed by wondering who the Yankees would play in the World Series.
So it’s not like the bar is set anywhere close to what could be described as high.
But man, this is one dreadful start.
How bad is it? There's a term baseball geeks use called the Mendoza Line.Named after light hitting shortstop Mario Mendoza Sabermetrics guru Bill James coined the label when referring to a player that struggles to reach the .200 mark in hitting. Many feel once a player has slipped below that line their relative value to the team in other areas is outweighed by their futility at the plate.
The Tigers, as a team, are below the Mendoza Line.
They’re hitting .194. I truly don’t care what kind of glove guy you are or how much your teammates like you,if you can’t hit your weight (and only one currently is) you shouldn’t be going up there to begin with. I know it’s early I get it but, man, this team reminds me of the winless Fred’s Trading Post team I played for at Pinery Park Little League in the early 60’s and while most of us hit our weight few if any of us weighed over 100.
In a game against Boston early this week they somehow managed to send 7 players across the plate. Of course they yielded 11 so they lost for the 22nd time in 30 games. And a glance at the box scores shows that in the 3 and 4 slots in the batting order, key positions reserved for a team’s very best hitters, the Tiger hitters are batting .105 and .181 respectively.The Red Sox 3-4 guys by comparison were hitting .349 and .351. You may remember one of them JD Martinex who the Tigs traded away a few seasons back.
Oh and the players of the future Detroit got in return for dealing away one of the best hitters in baseball? Yeah, not a single one is on the Tiger roster 4 seasons later.
So I’m a bit discouraged at the current ‘rebuilding’ effort thus far.
Recently I’ve spoken to local contractors who are dealing with the struggle it has been to find the material they need to build.
And a lack of material seems eerily similar to what the Tigers are going through.
“Baseball really is a glorified game of throw and catch. And if you don’t have guys who throw it really well, you can’t compete for long.”-Tucker Elliot
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