"Chalk One Up for the Old Guys"

As I returned to the back corner of the dugout, there sat Dave Loomis, father of our team captain and manager Matt Loomis, with, as always, the team's scorebook in hand. This time though, he had a goofy grin on his face. As I approached, he looked at me and said, "Chalk one up for the old guys!" I chuckled as well, although somewhat breathlessly.

Here's the deal. We were only two batters into our game when I came to the plate. Our leadoff man, Alex, was already on base. As I peered across the field, I noticed the third basemen was playing a bit off the third base bag and the left fielder played me even more so toward left center field. I just wanted to put the ball in play down the line. I got a good inside pitch and did exactly that. As soon as it left my bat, I knew the line drive would be an easy double. 

As I rounded first base, I glanced toward the left field corner, It looked like the left fielder maybe took too sharp of an angle and couldn't quite cut off the ball as it headed to the fence. Now, I'm an old guy (turning 62 this December) so extra bases in softball are nowhere near as plentiful as they used to be. But hey, I can still run pretty well, you know, for an old guy. I just kept chugging. Our third base coach waved me home and I crossed the plate with an in-the-park home run, meeting my teammates with high fives and fist bumps as I entered the dugout. Then I made my way to Dave in the back corner.

Hmmm, the last time I hit a legit home run was, was...I couldn't remember. Shoulder surgery in my mid-50s precluded any such statistic so it had to be in my early 50s or even late 40s. 

Four days later, I found myself on the King Ranch Golf Course in Frenchtown, Montana, teeing it up with my son, Jace, a mutual friend, Brandon, and my brother, Alan. Little did I know but lightning was going to strike again, although in a slower, more methodical fashion. 

To make a long story shorter, I hit some marvelous (especially for me) shots on my way to a 2-over par 38. Two-over! That was my best showing since the mid to late 1990s and just two strokes off my best 9-hole score ever. Just craziness! 

The most wild part was carding back-to-back birdies for the first time in my life. On the 302-yard, par-4 third hole, my approach shot landed about six feet from the pin. That putt found the bottom of the hole. The next hole was even crazier. My 155-yard approach shot on the 407-yard, par-4 fourth hole was a 7-iron that I did not hit flush. In fact, it was more of a worm-burning scorcher but it was on line with the target. Because of the lay of the land, I did not see it once it rolled over the lip of the green but Jace yelled that it hit the flagstick. We made our way up there and sure enough, a tap-in 12-inch putt for birdie. Go figure. Chalk up another one for the old guys!

Mark Twain Got It Right

Mark Twain got it right when he said, "Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter." That's a mantra I've been riding for a number of years now. 

This past winter was the first winter of my life when I didn't play one single game of pick-up basketball, not one! I was frustrated because those guys I played with for years just plain fizzled out. But a chance encounter with a former hockey teammate led to me signing up to play in the Glacier Hockey League's spring session. Suffice it to say it was absolutely wonderful being back on the ice for the first time in 12-13 years.

When the roster came out I recognized three names - Bill Bevis, Brandon Moore and Nick Adams. I'd met Bill years ago as he maintained a pond at a city park in Missoula for ice skating. Brandon is about the same age as my oldest daughter and lived down the street from us when we lived in Lolo and Nick is a former softball teammate and foe. 

I showed up about 30 minutes before our first game and as I walked in, there was Bill. We had a nice little chat. The funny thing is after being the "old guy" playing basketball or softball, I no longer fit the bill. That's because Bill, a lifelong hockey player who played semi-pro back in the day, was 82. Eighty-two, and still playing! Then I took a few minutes to watch the ongoing game on the ice to check the skill level. I heard a couple of voices behind me and two more guys entered the rink with their hockey bags on their shoulders. The first was Brandon, our team captain. Thought I didn't know him, I recognized him. And with him was his half-brother Nick. 

In the locker room, Brandon asked what position I'd played. I said mostly center but would play wherever would best help the team. He asked me to play defense so I settled in along the blue line. Though not a great defender, I did the best I could. Our first game was a dandy. Our center followed up a rebound and put in the game-winner right at the final buzzer. From there, we struggled losing the next three in a row. 

One of them was against a team with a bit of a reputation. They played rough. Our division calls for "no checking," although body contact is a given. Still, these guys where throwing their bodies around and ramming us into the boards. They got whistled for four penalties and could've gotten another four. One time, during a dead period as the linesman was waiting to drop the puck and both teams were casually changing lines, a 6' 2" center on their team skated past me and put a shoulder into me as I stood on the blue line waiting for action to resume. I mean, really? In one motion, I reached out and slugged him between the shoulder blades as he continued to the faceoff circle. He turned around and raised his arms kinda like, "What's up with that?" Dang, I wish we could've beaten them.

With a record of 1-3, Brandon asked me in the locker room prior to our fifth game if I wanted to play center. I was all about that. "Do you want to be eased in and maybe do so by the third period?" he asked. "No, I'm ready right now. Let's go." That turned out to be a solid call. Brandon is better on the blue line with a better understanding when to jump in on offense and when to stay back. I was helping the team win more faceoffs in the other team's offensive zone so we could get more shots on net. As a team, we rallied and improved. We won our next three games 3-2, 11-0 and 7-1. That set the stage for our one-game playoff for third place in the league. 

Before we knew it, we trailed 2-0 not even six minutes into the game, and this was against a team we manhandled twice during the regular season. Our defense and goaltending stiffened, allowing our offense we take over. I put home a short slapshot from the right circle to tie the game at three. Then I went to the bench and our other center, Ryan, won the subsequent faceoff at center ice, beat a defensemen and went top shelf to put us up 4-3. We got an empty net goal to secure the 5-3 win and clinch third place, just one point out of second.

The Sweaty Sweaters (far right kneeling next to Nick, our goalie, and team captain Brandon)

It was so, so fun being back on the ice again. Having played a lot of different sports, there's just something different about hockey. I ended up scoring three goals over my last four games, all victories for our improving squad. And you bet I'm looking forward to playing with the same group this fall. Gotta love hockey...and Mark Twain's wisdom!

Grateful for my favorite fans

Putting Basketball on Ice

It's inevitable! I mean, it was bound to happen. There's just no way around it. It's just the natural progression of things. Some things just cannot be stopped, right?

It's basketball! I love basketball. I've played my entire life. That is, until the winter of 2023-24. That's when my basketball and shoes sat in the back of my closet, unused, for the first time.  

So why would the day come that I would not play basketball anymore? Well, old age, a bum knee, arthritis, a lack of desire or some other physical limitation, right? I mean hey, I did turn 61 my last birthday. From looking at most other guys my age I know, that's way past the time of such activity. But I don't feel that way at all. I revel in being the old guy out there keeping up with the younger guys. In fact, it's great motivation. For all I care, that recliner can sit in the corner unused for a few more years anyway. I've still got decent stamina. My body, despite shoulder surgery a few years back, is in pretty good shape. 

So why did I quit playing basketball? Attrition. No, not me but others. I'd been playing pickup basketball with the same core group of guys for the last couple of decades. True, guys came and went but we kept playing. We would play once or twice or even three times a week when I lived in Lolo. Even after moving to Frenchtown, I kept making the 25-mile drive back to Lolo for a couple more years. Maybe that's because I was the guy who hung on to the church gym key and kept messaging the group to make sure we had enough to play. But the drive got old so I invited the guys to come play in Frenchtown, which we did for another five or six years. 

During that same time, I was invited by a softball teammate to join a nondenominational group of Christian guys playing at a high school gym in Missoula. They were a bit younger, more skilled and competitive - all things that really drive me. And yeah, I was the old guy in that group too. It was great - basketball on Frenchtown's short court on Thursday nights and again Saturday morning on the sweet, wooden full court in town. 

But then COVID-19 hit and things were never the same again. The high school gave us the boot so that group shifted to a church in Missoula. It was still a full court but the floor was tile on top of concrete and after two hours of running and gunning, my joints (for the first time ever) were yelling at me to stop playing there because of the pounding they took, so I did. We struggled to get enough participation to keep playing in Frenchtown. We just could not consistently get six or more people to commit to at least 3-on-3 basketball on our short court so that was that. Still, I found out about another group of guys playing full court in Missoula. That went on for a year but that, too fizzled out. I was so disappointed. I could no longer be the old guy playing with the young 'uns. I did have occasional trips to visit my son in Spokane to play pickup hoops there, but those also fizzled out this past year, not because they're not playing anymore but because they were playing tournament games when I visited and I was an out-of-towner. So I would go to support him and became the designed scoreboard operator. (Hey, if you can't play at least you can support others doing so, right?)

Manning the scoreboard with my grandson

So the dilemma remains, what's an older guy like me who still has wants to play to do? Here's the silver lining. I attended a play with family this past winter where I noticed a familiar name, Patrick Nicklay, in the program. Afterwards, I ran into him in the lobby and we chatted. Patty was an old linemate from back in my hockey playing days 20 years ago. He said he recently started playing hockey again, was having a blast and urged me to do sign up and join his team. Hockey huh? Hmmm, no doubt about it. I do love hockey. It had been a while but why not? I started playing ice hockey shortly before my 41st birthday and had a great seven to eight-year run before stepping away 12 to 13 years ago because the game times conflicted with my work schedule when I was a second-shift-working broadcast journalist.

The longer 2023-24 winter hockey season was ongoing so I looked forward to the 2024 spring league. Unfortunately, I waited to long to register and could not get into Patty's league so the commissioner suggested I play in the novice league. 

So excited for this!

Perhaps Mark Twain said it best: "Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter." I'm with you Mr. Twain!

Sifting Through My Past

It's kind of an honor yet not very pleasant at the same time. First, my dad passed away a number of years ago and then, several years later, I helped my mom sort through reams of stuff to clear out the house where they lived for some 45 years so it could be sold. That "stuff" included old personal items, keepsakes, journals and other memorabilia. 

That got me thinking about my stuff. I had a couple of boxes of things I accumulated over my 60-plus years so why not thin it out now to make it easier for my kids, or whoever, to finish the job whenever that happens? 

Below are some examples I wanted to digitally save ranging from my early elementary school days to high school.

Pencil holder & "Mark Holyoak" rubber stamp (junior high)

Sleigh made in welding class (high school) - We were given five basic shapes and asked to make something out of them using basic welds

Mold & belt buckle made in metals class (junior high)

Oven-baked creatures (elementary school)

Not sure what this is

Holiday season artwork

My art does not improve with age but only thanks to good tracing

Fred

Lots of Freds

The "Holyoak Boys-Only Club" (Plus Mom)

Mark

I'm a sucker for a good, warm flannel shirt. I've always liked them dating back to my teenage years. They're just so cozy. Unfortunately, I couldn't really use for them during my days as a broadcast journalist. However, when I left TV and took a job at the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation, I was thrust back into the wonderful world of flannel shirts, fleece vests, boots and blue jeans. That's pretty much what I wear on a daily basis, especially during the winter months.

ßI first came across this sweet black and green flannel shirt during the early winter months of 2023. I saw a now former coworker wearing it and asked where he got it. He said it was an RMEF shirt available in our visitors center. It's thick, almost like a light jacket. I liked it. I went right downstairs and bought my own.

Fast forward to nine months later when a work email landed in my inbox. It said some customers who bought the shirt online were having issues with it unravelling. Because of that, the decision was made to not sell them anymore to the public. But a new shipment had just arrived so we employees were notified that any of us who wanted a shirt, or a bunch of them, could go next door to the distribution and take what wanted for free. There were about five big boxes but I didn't feel I could just scoop up an armload so I reached out to each member of the Bugle magazine staff that I supervise to see if they had interest. All but one did, so I hooked them up.

Mom

Later that afternoon, I again wandered next door and they had definitely been picked over but there were still a lot of them, especially XLs. And that's when the idea came to me. I'll get one for all the Holyoak men in my life - my son, brothers and sons-in-law. Mom was staying with us at the time so I texted and asked if she wanted one as well. She said "yes," so I grabbed one in her size too. But when I went back the following morning to grab more for the Holyoak women in my life, just about everything was gone, especially those in their sizes. Oh well.

While I was at work one day shortly thereafter, Mom got out her scissors and sewing machine and got to work. You see, her sleeves were too long so she cut off the cuff and then removed a lower section of the sleeve, sewed it back together and she was good to go. Here's to you, Mom! It looks great on you!

All of the guys would receive theirs as a Christmas present. Since Alan and Connor visited our place during Thanksgiving, I gifted them theirs at the same time - twinsies! A couple of weeks later, as we got closer to Christmas, I took an evening and boxed up shirts for Jace, Kerry and Matthew and shipped them out. I would give Kenny to him since we were to spend the day with his family.

As Christmas day rolled around, one by one, all the guys opened their presents. Matthew said his was a little tight (sorry Matthew) and his visiting dad was more than dropping hints that he would take it back home with him. I was with Kenny when he opened his. He said he liked it. And so it went. Below are photos of the entire gang except for Connor because well, there's just more to the story there.

Kenny

Alan

Jace

Kerry

Matthew

As for Connor, either he or Hallie forwarded a Christmas Day video of him wearing the shirt I gave him at Thanksgiving while opening yet another present from me. During my evening of wrapping up the shirts for all the guys, I'd forgotten I already gave him one and sent him yet another one anyway. When he opened it, he was like, "Uh...what?" Duh, Mark. #oldmanproblems

Then I thought it would be a fun to do a Facebook post showing a photo of each of us wearing our new, matching RMEF shirts. You know, kind of like a "Holyoak Boys-Only Club," plus Mom, that is. I sent out a text to all of them and I started receiving photos from each of them. That is, each of them, except Connor. He'd say, "Sorry, I forget but I'll do it when I get home from work," or "Dang, I keep forgetting but I'll get it to you." It became like a running joke. I'd send him a GIF of a disgusted kid tapping his fingers on a table. I'd talked to Hallie and she said she would get right on it. More time passed and the calendar page turned into 2024.  

Meanwhile at work. there are now dozens of employees walking the halls wearing the same green and black flannel RMEF shirt. When I wore mine shortly after the big giveaway, one of them said, "Oh Mark, I see you got in on the freebie action." I said, tongue-in-cheek yet truthfully, "No, I'm not like you posers. I bought mine early last year so my hard-earned money actually went to help advance RMEF's mission."

Fast forward to early February 2024, I received this text from Connor: "Some backstory for the shirt. I felt bad because I couldn't find it anywhere! I was so confused where it could have gone. Today, I found it! It had been thrown in a Christmas box and stored away with all our Christmas things on accident. Sorry it took so long. That's my bad."

Connor

I just laughed. But then it got even better. Hallie texted this as a follow-up: "Please accept this performance and our deepest apologies for the delay."

Yes, Connor and Hallie really delivered. It was an epic performance, indeed. I just laughed and laughed. But that's only part of the story. Aubrey's youngest daughter, Lexi, watched the video like 4-5 times in a row, laughing through the whole thing every time. 

So thanks Connor and Hal. What a great, albeit delayed Christmas present. I loved it! And hey Connor, hope you like the shirt(s).