Chip Shots: Seasons Of Surprises
December 23, 2022 at 10:38 p.m.
Chip Shots: Seasons Of Surprises
By Chip Davenport-
Every Christmas is a good Christmas for me because I finish the day with at least one pleasant surprise.
I appreciate those who continue reading my column. Apparently the folks at the corner of Market Street and Indiana keep asking for them, so I appreciate the readership because you haven’t told them to stop asking (yet?).
I enjoyed an early gift this year. I have not watched much soccer in my life, but I intentionally put off everything else I ordinarily do on a Sunday morning, including the network news show car wash I drive through between NBC and CBS.
I was surprised how close the game was, and it even featured the perils and bitter-sweetness of the 2-nil-lead superstitious soccer devotees often note.
The game was an instant classic according to the pundits, so the timing of my full commitment from start to finish was perfect. I had not watched a FIFA men’s World Cup final from start to finish since July 2006, but I certainly picked one hell of a match to watch last Sunday.
I fully realize most finals matches were not like Argentina’s (3-3) 4-2 penalty kick battle with France, so I’m not expecting another classic in 2026 when North America hosts the tourney.
No one can say, “always a bridesmaid, never a bride” about Argentina’s Lionel Messi anymore.
‘Tis the season so I’ll share my favorite childhood Christmas gifts.
Coleco digital football (1978) – dashes mostly headed in a single direction toward a single ball-player in LED with a red background small screen. My mother once asked, “Why are you taking so long to play that game?” Folks, it was because I recorded my offensive stats each game.
Nerfoop basketball and hoop (1976) – the closest I ever came to looking competent at basketball, and the most dunking I ever executed. My stat-tracked NERF games were set up by randomly drawing ten basketball cards, and pretending I was firing up shots among each of those ten randomly drawn players. It should be noted winter storms in January 1977 and 1978 – the latter still the stuff of Great Lakes and Rust Belt lore were fine with me – afforded time to go deep into Nerfoop action. I ditched hygiene and homework while schools were closed for almost a full week, flying all over my tiny bedroom landing mid-range jumpers and executing highlight reel slam dunks.
Lionel O-scale electric train set (1972) – most kids and adults played with HO-scale, the smaller, more universal scale used to build train enthusiast’s model world of hills, mountains, waterways, streets and tunnels.
I was happy with my oval that fit in the living room because my living quarters were always tight, and the in-house population ranged from six to eight people depending on the calendar year.
When I would plug in the train set’s transformer, I had to ask if anyone was going to watch TV because the juice in the outlet created static in the TV picture. I’m not sure if this was normal, or just shoddy household wiring.
I woke up at 5 a.m. December 25, 1972 (I was 8) and asked my parents, who likely had not even slept one hour yet, if I could open one of my gifts. They said, “yes”, to stop my needling, rapid-fire requests but this was not the present they thought I would open.
They were fuming once they did awaken but I didn’t care because I already had two hours of glorious train set play in the books when they woke up both shocked and angry before they could brew their first cup of coffee.
I made an insincere offer (in rather fine form - I still believe - for an 8-year old boy) to box it back up and put it back under the tree, but my mother’s piercing rejoinder, “shut up, you already ruined it” cut off my offer in mid-sentence.
Keith Jarrett 1975 concert album (1978) – this was probably the most thoughtful childhood gift I ever received, and my favorite as a result.
Jarrett was an eccentric pianist who played with some of the best (Miles Davis, Art Blakey to name a few). I first saw and heard him play in an April 15, 1978 Saturday Night Live broadcast.
They had to observe me closely to nail this one. I continually refused to give them any clues each year about what I wanted for Christmas. Instead, I asked for socks, underwear, and a winter coat.
I knew I’d only get a few more gifts, I felt fortunate for this, and I wanted to be surprised.
When I opened the album I was shocked. My mom and dad both noted how I could not stop talking about Jarrett’s fingers, and my mention of how it looked like he was improvising long after the Saturday Night Live episode where I was introduced to him.
Bottom line, my parents found Jarrett’s 1975 Koln (Cologne) concert album, an album whose release Jarrett fought – my parents noted in well-rehearsed fashion - because the concert was an improvisation, and he felt the music came and left within that concert.
I smirk to this day because my godfather probably gave them this nugget of trivia, and coached them on the delivery, but the thought was as great as the gift.
I hope each of you experience a pleasant surprise today, tonight or tomorrow. Merry Christmas.
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Every Christmas is a good Christmas for me because I finish the day with at least one pleasant surprise.
I appreciate those who continue reading my column. Apparently the folks at the corner of Market Street and Indiana keep asking for them, so I appreciate the readership because you haven’t told them to stop asking (yet?).
I enjoyed an early gift this year. I have not watched much soccer in my life, but I intentionally put off everything else I ordinarily do on a Sunday morning, including the network news show car wash I drive through between NBC and CBS.
I was surprised how close the game was, and it even featured the perils and bitter-sweetness of the 2-nil-lead superstitious soccer devotees often note.
The game was an instant classic according to the pundits, so the timing of my full commitment from start to finish was perfect. I had not watched a FIFA men’s World Cup final from start to finish since July 2006, but I certainly picked one hell of a match to watch last Sunday.
I fully realize most finals matches were not like Argentina’s (3-3) 4-2 penalty kick battle with France, so I’m not expecting another classic in 2026 when North America hosts the tourney.
No one can say, “always a bridesmaid, never a bride” about Argentina’s Lionel Messi anymore.
‘Tis the season so I’ll share my favorite childhood Christmas gifts.
Coleco digital football (1978) – dashes mostly headed in a single direction toward a single ball-player in LED with a red background small screen. My mother once asked, “Why are you taking so long to play that game?” Folks, it was because I recorded my offensive stats each game.
Nerfoop basketball and hoop (1976) – the closest I ever came to looking competent at basketball, and the most dunking I ever executed. My stat-tracked NERF games were set up by randomly drawing ten basketball cards, and pretending I was firing up shots among each of those ten randomly drawn players. It should be noted winter storms in January 1977 and 1978 – the latter still the stuff of Great Lakes and Rust Belt lore were fine with me – afforded time to go deep into Nerfoop action. I ditched hygiene and homework while schools were closed for almost a full week, flying all over my tiny bedroom landing mid-range jumpers and executing highlight reel slam dunks.
Lionel O-scale electric train set (1972) – most kids and adults played with HO-scale, the smaller, more universal scale used to build train enthusiast’s model world of hills, mountains, waterways, streets and tunnels.
I was happy with my oval that fit in the living room because my living quarters were always tight, and the in-house population ranged from six to eight people depending on the calendar year.
When I would plug in the train set’s transformer, I had to ask if anyone was going to watch TV because the juice in the outlet created static in the TV picture. I’m not sure if this was normal, or just shoddy household wiring.
I woke up at 5 a.m. December 25, 1972 (I was 8) and asked my parents, who likely had not even slept one hour yet, if I could open one of my gifts. They said, “yes”, to stop my needling, rapid-fire requests but this was not the present they thought I would open.
They were fuming once they did awaken but I didn’t care because I already had two hours of glorious train set play in the books when they woke up both shocked and angry before they could brew their first cup of coffee.
I made an insincere offer (in rather fine form - I still believe - for an 8-year old boy) to box it back up and put it back under the tree, but my mother’s piercing rejoinder, “shut up, you already ruined it” cut off my offer in mid-sentence.
Keith Jarrett 1975 concert album (1978) – this was probably the most thoughtful childhood gift I ever received, and my favorite as a result.
Jarrett was an eccentric pianist who played with some of the best (Miles Davis, Art Blakey to name a few). I first saw and heard him play in an April 15, 1978 Saturday Night Live broadcast.
They had to observe me closely to nail this one. I continually refused to give them any clues each year about what I wanted for Christmas. Instead, I asked for socks, underwear, and a winter coat.
I knew I’d only get a few more gifts, I felt fortunate for this, and I wanted to be surprised.
When I opened the album I was shocked. My mom and dad both noted how I could not stop talking about Jarrett’s fingers, and my mention of how it looked like he was improvising long after the Saturday Night Live episode where I was introduced to him.
Bottom line, my parents found Jarrett’s 1975 Koln (Cologne) concert album, an album whose release Jarrett fought – my parents noted in well-rehearsed fashion - because the concert was an improvisation, and he felt the music came and left within that concert.
I smirk to this day because my godfather probably gave them this nugget of trivia, and coached them on the delivery, but the thought was as great as the gift.
I hope each of you experience a pleasant surprise today, tonight or tomorrow. Merry Christmas.
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