By

Roy Berger
Do you remember when the Super Bowl mattered? No, not you twenty, thirty and forty-year olds. I’m talking to my boomer class, the ones like me who will struggle, especially in the eastern and central time zones, to stay awake long enough to see the confetti fall. No matter the score, it will be a...
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I get knocked down by a cinco de bypass five months earlier, but I got up again. I get knocked down from cataract surgery six days prior, but I got up again. I get knocked down by a sixty mph fastball, but with some help, I slowly and painfully got up again. Thus, in a...
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An hour, maybe two from now, I’ll step into the batter’s box, wish the umpire a good morning, smooth the dirt with my back foot, give the catcher’s right shin guard an OCD love tap with the knob of my bat and then dig in for the most important plate appearance of my life. It’s...
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I’ll beat you to it. I’ll admit it. I’m a damn hypocrite. A week ago in this same Sunday Morning Coffee space I bragged, about as proud as a just being okayed for membership to Mar-a-Lago, that leaving a ballgame was far more important to me than going to one. I got buckets of responses...
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I’m not sure when the virus started and frankly I never paid too much attention to it. I was never warned I’d catch it but it started, gradually, over time. In Hebrew it’s l’dor v’dor — from generation to generation. I never saw it coming, either. What seemed like entirely rational behavior in the 60s,...
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Yessiree Mr. President, you had a great first year. In fact it probably was the greatest year in the history of years. We know that because you keep reminding us of it. It started with the largest crowd ever to see a Presidential inauguration. Even though thousands of people were dressed as empty spaces, you...
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When we moved to Birmingham about nineteen years ago, I was told by a lifelong Alabamian to be proud about one thing. “What’s that?” I asked with my Yankee twang. “You ain’t living in Mississippi.” With all due respect to our western neighbors, our time in central Alabama has been wonderful. It’s become sweet home....
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It was fifty-four years ago last Wednesday and the eleven-year-old kid didn’t really understand why the rest of his sixth grade class collectively gasped. Neither did he understand why his teacher, Mrs. Nelson, started crying. That was something teachers weren’t supposed to do. He also didn’t completely comprehend what the school principle, Mr. Tyler, was...
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I did it. I graduated. Now, finally, I’ve earned initials following my name! Even though I graduated from a school I really didn’t want to attend and took a major I really didn’t want, I stuck with it and graduated. I really had no other choice. No, I’m not Roy Berger, MD. Not even Roy...
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The Sunday morning coffee pot was switched on late this morning which happens when you spend Saturday night in Tuscaloosa with the Crimson Tide. I’m grumpy this morning and I assume Arkansas is too after a 41-9 drubbing which featured ‘Bama scoring on their first play of the game, a 75 yard run. Things then...
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