Retired Superintendent-Transylvania County Schools. Husband, father, grandfather, educator & mountain philosopher. Public Schools advocate
Western North Carolina
Joined June 2009
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Jeff McDaris retweeted
On This Day in 1977, Lynyrd Skynyrd Played Their Final Concert with Ronnie Van Zant, Steve Gaines and Cassie Gaines — The Next Day, They Were Gone
On October 19, 1977, Lynyrd Skynyrd walked onto the stage at the Greenville Memorial Auditorium in South Carolina. Nobody in the building knew they were watching the final concert Ronnie Van Zant, Steve Gaines and Cassie Gaines would ever play.
It should have been the beginning of a triumphant new chapter. Just two days earlier, the band had released Street Survivors, an album that captured Lynyrd Skynyrd with a revitalized three-guitar attack built around Gary Rossington, Allen Collins and Steve Gaines. Gaines had brought something special to the band — not only as a guitarist, but as a songwriter and vocalist.
That night in Greenville, Skynyrd tore through “Workin’ for MCA,” “Saturday Night Special,” “That Smell,” “Travelin’ Man,” “Gimme Three Steps,” “Call Me the Breeze,” “Sweet Home Alabama” and, finally, “Free Bird.”
Then the music stopped.
The following day, October 20, the band boarded its chartered plane for Baton Rouge, Louisiana. The aircraft ran out of fuel and crashed near Gillsburg, Mississippi. Ronnie Van Zant, Steve Gaines and his sister Cassie Gaines were killed, along with assistant road manager Dean Kilpatrick and the two pilots. The surviving members suffered serious injuries.
Lynyrd Skynyrd would never again take the stage with that lineup.
Looking back, there is something almost unbearable about that final “Free Bird” in Greenville. To everyone there, it was simply the last song of another Lynyrd Skynyrd concert.
Twenty-four hours later, it had become a farewell.
Jeff McDaris retweeted
Having 4pm NFL games ending in the dark now (East Coast viewers) and then hearing the ticking of the "60 Minutes" stopwatch makes me feel that I have Algebra and American History homework to do tonight, even though I'm in my 50s now.
Jeff McDaris retweeted
"At the 1999 All-Star Game, an ailing, 80 year old Ted Williams was brought out to a roaring crowd for the opening ceremony.
As the cart pulls up near the pitcher's mound, the American League and National League All-Stars, and slew of Hall of Famers all converge on the mound.
The players surround 80 year old Ted Williams and one by one they shake his hand and embrace him.
There's Mark McGwire and Cal Ripken Jr. surrounding Williams.
Then Tony Gwynn, who had developed a close relationship with Williams, breaks through the crowd.
Ted Williams wipes away tears as he chats with star after star;
The fans stand and watch.
Ten minutes pass.
Then fifteen minutes.
Officials from Major League Baseball move in on the spontaneous scene and attempt to break it up so that the game isn't delayed too much longer.
But the players don't budge.
Even the public address announcer asks the players to return to their dugouts.
But they ignore the announcement.
They just wouldn't let go of the moment. Williams asks McGwire to lean in so he can ask him a question.
"When you foul a ball off, do you smell burnt wood?" Williams asks.
"All the time," McGwire responds.
"I did too," Williams says, grinning proudly.
Jeff McDaris retweeted
I often get asked what my all-time favourite baseball picture is.
To be honest, so hard to answer, I have seen over 10000 pictures.
That said, this one is near the top. Mantle hits a home run off Koufax in the 1963 WS. That stare from Sandy says it all
Jeff McDaris retweeted
Willie Mays is the only player ever with 3,000 hits, a .300 average, 300 home runs, and 300 stolen bases.
His real line reads 3,293 hits, .301, 660 homers, and 339 steals.
Nobody else checks all four boxes.
Jeff McDaris retweeted
Fifty years ago (Jan. 16, 1976), NC State's student newspaper, @NCSUTechnician, had a review of a country concert at Raleigh's Memorial Auditorium with the headline: "Dolly Parton--No Woman Can Rival Her."
It's rare that a newspaper headline can hold on to the truth for 50 years.
Jeff McDaris retweeted
NC State University and the United States Army have signed a Regional Intergovernmental Support Agreement, establishing a new strategic partnership designed to strengthen innovation, workforce development and collaboration across a range of disciplines. ncst.at/RJ7s50ZBF4G
ALT Chancellor Howell in a dark suit with a red tie and glasses shaking hands with a man in a U.S. Army uniform smiling warmly.
Many of today's players would sit it out
On the last day of the 1941 season, Ted Williams was hitting .39955.
Officially, that rounds up to .400.
His manager offered to sit him. He could have walked away as a .400 hitter without lifting a bat.
He played both games of a doubleheader instead.
Understand what was at stake. Hitting .400 is the most romantic number in baseball. It had been done a handful of times and it was already becoming rare.
Williams was 23 years old. If he sat, the record book would say .400 forever.
He refused.
His reasoning, as he told it for the rest of his life, was that he didn't want to be a .400 hitter with a technicality. He wanted to earn it standing in the box.
So on September 28, 1941, in Philadelphia, Ted Williams played a doubleheader against the Athletics with the single most famous batting average in American sports hanging on it.
He went 6 for 8.
He finished the season at .406.
Nobody has hit .400 in a Major League season since. Eighty five years and counting. It has become one of those records people quietly assume will never be broken again.
And here's the part that makes the whole thing even more absurd.
Ted Williams lost nearly five full seasons of his prime to military service in two different wars. He was a Marine fighter pilot in World War II and flew combat missions in Korea, where he crash landed a burning jet.
He still finished with 521 home runs and a career .344 average.
His final at bat, in his last game in 1960 at Fenway Park, he hit a home run. Then he ran the bases, went into the dugout, and never came out to tip his cap.
And when he was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1966, he used his speech to argue that Negro Leagues greats like Satchel Paige and Josh Gibson belonged in Cooperstown too. That was 1966. He didn't have to say that. He said it anyway, and it's cited as one of the reasons the doors eventually opened.
Two games he could have skipped.
Eight at bats he didn't have to take.
Six hits, and the last .400 season anyone has ever had.
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