Sensory Overload

  Merciful, the NFL pre-season is over. For those who cared (not me), the New York Giants topped the New York Jets 22-6 in the annual Battle of New York. Yawn. 

Neither team is expected to contend in their respective divisions and conferences. At leas with new coach John Harbaugh, it might be a bit more interesting to see how he does away from Baltimore with a fresh start. 

Jets fans are already wishing that the franchise hadn’t hired Aaron Glenn nor brought back Geno Smith to be the stating quarterback. A few more wins might be in the offing. We’ll see how improved the team might be on September 13th when NYJ will visit former head man Robert Saleh, who now has the reins in Tennessee. 

Let me quickly address the brouhaha emerging in college football related to the NFL. When a court ruled that certain players could come back for a fifth season of eligibility, a group consisting of those who were eligible in September 2022 were excluded. 

A number of those affected sued and won the right to return to college even if they had signed with an NFL team. The reasoning was that if they knew that they had an extra year of eligibility, they would never have gone to the NFL. 

So those that did go would have to return the money received by signing a pro contract if they sought to return to college. Some of the players may have been drafted; others may have put in for the NFL Draft but weren’t selected. 

The school ready to benefit the most was LSU, where the greatest number of players who filed the lawsuit intend to go. Others similarly situated must file their own lawsuit and a termination must be made on a case-by-case basis. 

I understand the aggrieved status the players claim they have. The logic has some merit. 

What is really the case is the new era predicament of NIL money. These players stood to make a lot more in college for the extra year than with the limited chances they had to make an NFL roster. 

Don’t be fooled by loyalty to and from the school. It isn’t there. 

Nor is there any mention of academics and the need to maintain grades to play. It is more about how much better the team would be with a certain player, not the pursuit of a degree. 

The major conferences have set up rules—after the fact—to exclude those trying to return. I can’t wait for that round of litigation to ensue; you can force injunctive relief forcing the conferences to take back those affected. 

College athletics has become a bigger sham than ever. It is almost farcical how bad things become when money is involved. Until there is a body formed to legitimately police the collegiate sports scene, chaos will continue to reign in the pursuit of national championships. 

Meanwhile, a plethora of games opened the college football season. Lafayette at Georgetown was declared a no contest outcome after constant lightning halted play. William & Mary defeated Villanova in the first Patriot League games for both schools. UNC gave Bill Belichick a must-needed win over TCU in Ireland. USC downed San Jose State and Virginia knocked off NC State. 

This weekend is the last meeting for 2026 between the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees. The two storied rivals are neck and neck for the top AL Wild Card slot as the season winds down. 

Thus the four games became pivotal as to the post-season and which team would have leverage heading into the playoffs should they both remain ahead of other pursuers. NYY began the series 3 games ahead of Boston. The season series tiebreaker would also be determined with how things played out; if the Red Sox earned at least a split, they would secure the advantage and have home field over their rival. 

Game 1 on Friday night brought a packed house at Yankee Stadium. Apple TV had the rights for this game, so, just like on Saturday night when FOX is broadcasting the game, a national TV  audience had the opportunity to watch. NBC and Peacock opted to televise the Houston Astros and New York Mets from Citi Field on Sunday. Who knows why they did that. 

To open the battle, New York went with their young stud, Cam Schlittler to take the mound in another pressure situation. The New Englander out of Northeastern has somehow owned the team of his youth since getting to the big leagues. 

Schlittler didn’t author his best performance on Friday night. He lasted 5 2/3 innings and surrendered a career-tying five walks. Yet he left the game clinging to a 1-0 lead, courtesy of a home run by possible future Hall of Fame first baseman Paul Goldschmidt off Red Sox lefty Pedro Sandoval. 

With the help of the top-rated bullpen and some awesome fielding, the Yankees ended repeated Boston threats. The nearly 100 mph throw by left fielder Cody Bellinger to cut down Ceddane Rafaela at home plate was spectacular and game-saving. Bellinger’s return to the lineup after his hamstring injury solidified the outfield defense. 

Schlittler is now 3-1 against Boston in five starts. In 32.1 innings pitched, he has permitted 2 earned runs, struck out 39, walked 9 and sports a minuscule 0.56 ERA. That’s unbelievable. 

While considered the frontrunner, Schlittler may not win the AL Cy Young Award. Toronto’s Dylan Cease has better statistics in terms of strikeouts and opponents batting average. Otherwise, the statistical edge at this point in the season goes to Schlittler. Of course, there is always the anti-Yankees bias to consider. 

Each is likely to start five more times, as they both pitched on Friday—Cease secured a win over Seattle with six innings of one-run ball and he struck out 8 while walking just 1. This will be fun to watch; if Schlittler wins the award, he will become legendary in New York—more so than his playoff gem win over Boston last year. 

Saturday’s games brought more full houses to the Bronx. The weather was fully cooperative. But the New York hitters were quieted in the afternoon game, managing four hits. Boston blew open a tight affair with 4 runs in the ninth inn the triumph by a 6-0 score.

The Saturday nightcap went New York’s way, Striking 13 singles, which included a 5 spot in the eighth inning, the Yankees won by a 9-2 score. 

Sunday’s game was to determine which team would have home field should they meet in the playoffs. Behind Will Warren’s stellar pitching, the Yankees bats awoke in a 16-1 romp. NYY took the season series 7-6. The team will have a happy flight to Anaheim for sure.

On Thursday, my family braved thunderstorms and near-zero visibility at times on the roads to drive to Syracuse. The occasion was to assist our son who was manning the Richard C. Failla LGBTQ Commission table at the New York State Fair on Pride Day. 

We dined at Pastabilities, a downtown Italian eatery which was very nice and offered sizable portions. That was the beginning of an epicurean chase which ended with Chinese food from our favorite restaurant in Denville which we brought home to watch the Friday night Yankees-Red Sox game. 

I sampled the 25 cent cup of chocolate milk—offered in connection with the Cornell Agricultural Extension program. It was as smooth and good as advertised. 

It didn’t hurt that the Pride Day tables were nearby the Dairy building. In the end, we shared delicious raspberry-chocolate cheesecake on a stick and took back to New Jersey a cream puff (disappointing) and cannolis (delectable) made on site.

I chomped on a pickle on a stick (fair). I sampled grilled corn in a folded husk (better with butter). We shared cheese pizza (not NJ!). And a lobster taco my wife and I had was scrumptious. 

The Fair was bustling with activity. The admission prices were affordable—free for seniors and children under 12.  A mid-morning downpour did little to dampen the enthusiasm of the crowd. I found it to be way better than the Minnesota and New Jersey State Fairs I had attended. 

Before the official Friday opening of the Fair, we were treated to speeches and the raising of the Pride flag—stopped at half-mast to honor Dolly Parton. The usual politicians were on hand. 

One in particular caught my interest. That was the mayor of Syracuse, Sharon Owens. A four-sport athlete at Geneva High School, Owens starred as a member of the new women’s track and field team at Syracuse. She won three Big East Conference championships in the long jump and triple jump, was the team captain and qualified for the Olympics. She graduated in 1985 with a degree in economics and remained in the community before becoming the second female mayor of that central New York city. Very impressive and she spoke eloquently. 

In the region, the people bleed Orange, the color of their beloved Syracuse University. Signs are everywhere supporting the school. Clothing at the Fair had a decided orange tint, even if there were the occasional SUNY Cortland items, as that school wasn’t that far away. 

Driving up Interstate 81, you can’t miss the big white building which houses the Syracuse football, lacrosse and basketball teams. Once known as the Carrier Dome, it is now called the JWA Wireless Dome. That’s a mouthful to repeat. 

It looked different than I remembered. The inflatable roof had been replaced in 1999 with a cable-supported one. It looked futuristic and massive.

Home to some of the biggest home college basketball crowds, I have actually been inside in one of my campus visits. It remains the largest on-campus basketball arena with a listed capacity of 35,642. To me, even with the Orange hoops languishing the past few years, the venue is legendary. 

While in the city, and out at the fairgrounds, I thought of the late Syracuse Nationals NBA team. You in Philadelphia might know them as the 76’ers, as the franchise moved in 1963 from upstate New York to the City of Brotherly Love where it replaced the Warriors when that franchise moved West to the Bay Area. 

Players on the first Sixers squad were by and large the same as the 1962-63 Nats team which went 48-32, finishing 10 games behind Bill Russell and the Boston Celtics. Cincinnati eliminated Syracuse 3-2. 

The new Philly franchise slumped to a 34-46 mark. The team played in Convention Hall and the Philadelphia Arena until the Spectrum opened in South Philadelphia in 1967. 

Those Nationals actually won the NBA title in 1954-55, defeating the Fort Wayne Pistons in seven games in the finals. It was the only one in franchise history until the team moved to Philadelphia—where it won the 1967 and 1983 championships—and nothing since. 

The Nationals primarily played home games at three venues. The first contests were held at the West Jefferson Street Armory. That is now the Museum of Science and Technology. Pastabilities was just up the street from what is now called MOST. 

Games from 1947-51 were played at the New York State Fair, in what is now named the Toyota Center. The arena held up to 7,500. Syracuse University basketball played there after the on-campus Archibold Gymnasium burned down in 1947. Now it houses the equestrian events. 

In 1951, the Onondaga War Memorial Arena opened, and both teams moved in along with the local AHL franchise. It has subsequently been renamed the Upstate Medical University Arena, as the school and hospital have a large presence in downtown Syracuse. That building is on the National Register of Historic Places. 

They also love one professional football team. That would be the Buffalo Bills. 

While it is a 150 mile distance between Syracuse and Orchard Park, where the Bills play, that distance is virtually meaningless. Everywhere there were Bills signs and gear. 

Western and Central New York—always enemies in minor league baseball between Buffalo, Rochester and Syracuse—are unified when it comes to their Bills. Not the Buffalo Sabres of the NHL, the other major league professional franchise in New York State not located in and around New York City. They rock with the cheer “Let’s Go Buff-alo!”

The end of the NFL pre-season. The onset of college football. Yankees-Red Sox. The New York State Fair. Syracuse. I reported on a lot. 

This definitely was sensory overload.

R.I.P. Gilbert Glass

  It is Monday as I begin to write this week. The last full week of August. Baseball heads into the final 30 games. Little Leaguers are heading home from Williamsport, Pennsylvania team-by-team until a champion is crowned for 2026. The NFL holds its final pre-season contests—the mini-dress rehearsals for the regular season. College football starts with Week 0 (Week 0?). Caitlin Clark dazzles as the WNBA plows towards its playoffs. All expected happenings at this time of the year. 

But it wasn’t an ordinary Monday. Far from it. My wife and I attended a funeral on this day. For Gilbert Glass, D.D.S. 

We went to the funeral service in Millburn, the town adjacent to Springfield. Then we slowly made our way to Kenilworth for the interment. On a beautiful, sun-splashed day with low humidity, 

After the cemetery we stopped at his son’s house in Fanwood. Then we repaired to our house for some rest and dinner before returning to lead the first shiva minyan service. 

I had met Gil Glass maybe twice. Once in passing at his dental office in Union Township. And at his son’s wedding in Manhattan in a restaurant under the spans of the Queensboro Bridge. 

I knew more about Gil Glass because his son Dustin became the best friend of my son Brian at Emory University in Atlanta. Our neighbor had told us that Dustin was going there; her then-husband was Gil’s friend and accountant, thus they knew Dustin’s affairs pretty well. I’m guessing that Gil was very proud that his son was attending a prestigious school like Emory; I know my wife and I felt that way about our son.

Thus we became well-acquainted with Dustin while he and Brian went to college. Upon graduation, they both chose to attend law school—Dustin went to Rutgers in Newark while Brian earned his juris doctorate at the University of Miami, although Brian needed a year to be ready for the grind that becoming a lawyer requires. 

Dustin went into private practice. Firm life was never our son’s choice; he opted to represent people with mental health issues who required legal assistance. 

It was never a competition for success; they both shined in their own way. As friends do. Fully supportive. They were always there for each other. Even if Dustin rooted for the New York Mets and New York Giants while Brian’s allegiance was with the New York Yankees and New York Jets. They’d go to games and commiserate when their teams invariably lost. 

My father was a dentist like Dr. Glass. Both had significant senses of humor— a necessity to make the patients comfortable in the chair before something unpleasant might unfold. 

They were military men. My father served in World War II as a navigator/bombardier in B-17’s based in England. He studied dentistry at Temple University while still active in the military then did his training at Turner Air Force Base in Albany, Georgia, where I was born. 

Dr. Glass was part of the Navy’s dental group in Viet Nam. He did have a white uniform, but apparently never really had to wear it. 

What they opted to do was raise families—I was from Highland Park in Middlesex County while the Glass family was reared in Fair Haven. Two very good school systems. Both families consisted of an older son and a younger daughter. 

The two fathers lost their wives too early. Dr. Glass had more of a burden to take care of his children than my father did, as my sister was 17 at the time my mother passed away and I was 26 and had been working with the Office of the Public Defender for a while. 

The children became important to the men who spent long hours cultivating their practices. In stories related by the family, Dr. Glass went to most every sporting event his kids were in, including a memorable time when he might have bent a golf rule for his daughter when she played at Gettysburg College. 

My father made the long treks to Lancaster on Wednesdays and Saturdays to watch me play baseball at Franklin and Marshall College, his alma mater. After he had watched me play summer baseball in my youth. Ditto for my sister’s tennis matches at Monmouth College (now a University). 

While he always chided me about something I did on the field, my father would then rave over my exploits to his friends. Remember, I went to F&M to get a degree and go to law school; baseball happened to be on my agenda but not his at the outset. 

What I learned from my father and was reminded of by Dr. Glass’ actions as narrated by his children was that attending your children’s events was of prime importance. Being there for them and being encouraging  would be the only tonic they needed. Winning was nice; participating at a high level was even more important when appreciation was shown for what one attempted. 

Dr. Glass took his children to sporting events and played golf with them. My father took me to plenty of baseball games and tried to regularly have a catch with me—albeit he threw like a wrestle/dentist who hadn’t thrown a ball in ages. 

I tried to do the same with my children. I was there for Brian’s tennis matches in high school and in tournaments. With Erica, I attended plenty of gymnastics meets to await her fabled floor routine. 

That’s what parents needed to do—if they could. At least by my standards and apparently those of two dentists. 

I should be concluding 75 years on this planet in two months barring something unforeseen. I have come to recognize that one’s body can betray great intentions nearly every time. 

The aches and pains that we ignored earlier now become constant reminders of how much abuse we put our bodies through. No matter how much work we put in to try to repair the damage, sometimes we have to accept the reality of aging in conjunction with vigorous exercise at an earlier age. 

I wish I had listened to my body much earlier in life. Yet what I was doing was so much fun that I ignored the fact that there would be eventual consequences no matter how strong and agile I was at the time. 

There is a whole lot of carping about Giancarlo Stanton now injuring his right calf in an attempt to rehabilitate the unforgiving left calf and make it back to a baseball game that counts. Nobody wants to see injuries to players, least of all the players. 

Sure, Stanton is overcompensated for what he does. More so on a productivity basis since he seems hardly to be on the field in the past couple of seasons. 

Who could have thought that his Yankees career would become so injury-riddled? This was a feared slugger, a National League M.V.P. and a player who seemed destined to be in the Hall of Fame once he reached the magic 500 home run mark, which was a foregone conclusion. 

Instead, Stanton is mired at 456 home runs slugged over a 17 year career (Stanton has 18 more post-season blasts while in a NYY uniform). A significant career which started in Miami and could be over if his body continues to be uncooperative as he approaches age 37 this November. 

His toughness is unquestioned—he suffered a devastating injury to his face and jaw while with the Marlins. His determination to return was unquestioned—Stanton wanted those home runs and he wanted to be known as a World Series champion. A perfect coda to his career. 

Except that things don’t work out in storybook fashion. Even NYY superstar slugger Aaron Judge has had his share of injuries which have sidelined him for extended periods of time. 

The broken rib suffered in late April has kept number 99 out of the lineup and curtailed any talk of a fourth M.V.P. award. Judge’s absence has been noticeable and kept NYY from running away with the AL East title given the great pitching the team has shown this season. 

Mike Trout should make the Hall of Fame with a resume not unlike Judge’s might one day be. Toiling in Anaheim, a baseball purgatory where winning teams just don’t happen frequently, the heavily-muscled South Jerseyan is a 12 time All-Star, American League Rookie of the Year and 3X-MVP. 

Yet he too has not been injury-free. As graceful and powerful as anyone in the game, Trout seems to routinely end up on the IL. It happens to the best. 

Which is why I was saddened by another death in the baseball world. Thomas Edward John, Jr. was a left-handed pitcher who hailed from Terre Haute, Indiana. 

John pitched for 26 years in the major leagues for 6 teams. A 4X-All-Star, his record was 288-231. He was not a dominant pitcher.

Yet he endured because he was the first to undergo radical surgery on his pitching elbow. That surgery proved successful and has led to so many others having the procedure and going on to productive careers at all levels of baseball. 

We know of the surgery because it bears his name when referenced. It is iconic. 

Still, he has never received enough credit for being a trailblazer. Without his taking a chance on a novel and untested procedure, baseball careers for pitchers would have ended so prematurely for too many others. 

The fact that John compiled 164 wins after the surgery is amazing, What is more surprising is that, as John liked to tell it, that is one less than Sandy Koufax the preeminent left-handed pitcher of his era had won. 

Koufax is in the Hall of Fame. John has never come close in the normal voting or on any of the subsequent committee determinations. 

Yes, they are two different kinds of pitchers. But John should have been recognized for his bravery and perseverance. That’s enough in my book for entry into Cooperstown. Except that I don’t vote. 

Circle back to Gil Glass. He needed both kidney and liver transplants to live. He had the kidney procedure but there were complications regarding the second operation. 

Somehow, the surgeons at Jackson Memorial in Miami green-lighted it with the risks involved. That gave him a new lease on life for 7 years. Gil was able to continue living with his second wife and to enjoy his grandchildren. 

Gil Glass epitomized what life was about. You take advantage of what is before you. And you live. Such an axiom applies to athletes like Giancarlo Stanton, Aaron Judge, Mike Trout, Tommy John and a whole host of others. 

It’s why I get up early, make a smoothie for my adult daughter to take to Manhattan with her, drive her to the train in Millburn, then late in the evening, pick her up. Dr. Glass and Dr. Sperber would have done the same. 

Things may not always turn out the way you planned them, but you got to keep on trying. Because that’s what you do. 

Rest in peace, Gilbert Glass. Thank you for being you.