Good morning. Plenty of Scramble items today but before we get started, and while waiting for Iran to tap-out, the question du jour: How can a certain someone who is so good driving a golf ball be so bad driving vehicles?

A great response to the SMC of two weeks ago—Too Busy To Be Scared (royberger.com)—about Jill Metlin and her group of 14 Israel tourists getting out of danger and back to the United States in the face of Middle East uncertainty and chaos. The best among many comments was from Howard Weiss of Tucson, Arizona, who humorously wrote: Three thousand years after Moses spent forty years trying to get us OUT of Egypt, Jill’s group did it in reverse — in one night, with an envelope of cash and a guy who knew a guy. No burning bush required, just a sealed envelope and unpaved roads in the dark.

Big news on the family front. Granddaughter Harley and her mom and dad are moving back to the States. After two years in London, Scott, Cayla and Harley return today to Los Angeles where Scott has accepted the position as general manager of the Waldorf Astoria in Beverly Hills. Good for them and great news for us. It’ll be nice to have them so close after being so far.

And speaking of five-star luxury hotels, the one I stayed at in Birmingham, Alabama, a couple of weeks ago was anything but. No Frette’s bedding; no cushy robes and as far from fluffy bath towels as can be. In fact, I’m certain the hotel towels are used by the maintenance crew during the day as sandpaper and returned to the guest room towel rack by night. I took an evening shower before going out to dinner. I took a look at my sandpaper towel, now turning red, and then in the mirror. It took about ten minutes for the bleeding to stop. The next morning, in advance of a breakfast engagement, I showered and totally forgot about the towel. By the time the bleeding finally stopped again, I only missed the first cup of coffee.

Maybe it’s best if United States hockey hero Jack Hughes, who scored the winning overtime goal against Team Canada in the Olympic gold medal game, keeps his gap- toothed mouth closed. The game winning puck as well as the one scored by Megan Keller, also against Canada in the women’s gold medal final, now reside in the Hockey Hall of Fame in Toronto donated by the International Ice Hockey Federation. Hughes wants the puck telling ESPN, “In my opinion that’s bullshit that the Hockey Hall of Fame has it.” No Jack, it’s not. It was never yours and it’s where it belongs. Plus, what could be better than displaying the US gold medal winning pucks in Canada?

If you are a podcast listener you’re not alone. The Wall Street Journal reports that nearly 60% of Americans ages 12 and over listen to at least one podcast a month. And the programming menu has exploded with almost three million pods available on Apple Podcasts, triple from six years ago. However, not all is gravy— nearly half of all advertising revenue goes to just 500 podcasts, leading to a fairly rapid consolation of the industry.

Can anyone say voter fraud? In last Tuesday’s special election for State of Florida legislative seats Palm Beach County resident Donald J. Trump, an outspoken critic of mail-in ballots, nevertheless voted by mail. In what looks like a clear case of election fraud Democrat Emily Gregory, a first-time candidate, beat Republican Jon Maples in the House district that includes Mar-a-Lago.

Very quietly and under the radar in all of the March Madness noise was the NYU women’s basketball team ending their incredible 91-game winning streak. The lady Violets, who play in Division III, hadn’t lost a game in three years since losing to Transylvania (KY) University on March 11, 2023. NYU brought a 29-0 record to this year’s Final Four where they bumped into the University of Scranton who was 30-0. Scranton stopped the NYU streak with a 60-52 win. However, NYU’s impressive winning streak is not the longest in NCAA women’s basketball history. That belongs to UConn with 111 straight between 2014-17.

He’s been dead for over 30 years but the sports memorabilia market is still mesmerized by Mickey Mantle. According to the New York Post, the Mick ranks first in all baseball memorabilia sold over the last 50 years with more than $162 million in sales. His 1952 Topps baseball card fetched $12.6 million alone. Second? Well, that’s the Babe with over $131 million sold.

No, you are not losing your mind. Back in the 1960s and for two, three decades afterwards male psychologists dominated females in the biz. Over 80% were males as patients’ main concerns were aggression, conflict and trauma. In the 1990s the prevailing areas of need flipped to love, meaning, friendship and cooperation. That according to the Wall Street Journal produced a sea change in the industry driven by clients’ needs. Today the number of therapists has done a total flip with females now making up about that same 80% of the profession. And don’t discount the impact that tough-guy Tony Soprano seeing Dr. Jennifer Melfi had on the female side of the profession.

How’s this for a bottomless tub of popcorn: longtime Today Show film critic Gene Shalit celebrated his 100th birthday last Wednesday. Shalit was an NBC television mainstay from 1973-2010 featuring his bushy handlebar mustache, Jewfro and oversized glasses.

The music industry lost a good one on Thursday as Darrell Crofts passed at age 87. Crofts, known as Dash, was part of the great Seals & Crofts soft rock duo of the 1970s with time-tested music for the ages: hits like Summer Breeze, Diamond Girl, Get Closer and We May Never Pass This Way Again. They broke up in 1981 but reunited again in 1989 for a couple of years and then one final bow in 2004. The native Texans were boyhood friends. Jim Seals died at 79 in 2022; Dash Crofts, from complications of heart surgery last week in Austin.

And speaking of Seals & Crofts music it was always a mainstay back in the day over a game of backgammon accompanied by too much vodka and some of that funny stuff we inhaled. Our games of backgammon however were seemingly much more mellow than the ones Middle East envoy and presidential son-in-law Jared Kushner plays. Addressing a conference in Miami on Thursday Kushner compared Iran to a struggling backgammon player. “When you are losing at backgammon, the strategy is basically to create as much chaos as possible, hoping you’ll find an opening,” he said. That’s fine but let’s just keep the doubling cube away from them.

The winter sports wagering season was good to me hitting totals on both the NBA Spurs and the NHL Ducks. Now we’ll go to dinner on baseball — by far the best sport for season totals as there’s action almost every day for six months. So, for our appetizer we bet the projected worst team in the game — the Rockies — to win over 54 games, or in Rockies jargon, only lose 107. The main course is a serving of the Twins to go under the projected win total of 74. Side dishes with the Twins entree are both the Mets and Yankees to win their divisions and for dessert, the trendy selection the last couple of weeks is action on the Pirates over 79 wins, so we took a small scoop of that. Interestingly, the lowly Pirates over the last decade have for the first time ever a payroll in excess of $100m. In tandem they are surprisingly only a notch over 2-1 odds to make the playoffs. I think that might be a stretch but, first things first, let’s get to 79 wins.

Fun to see the Buffalo Sabers included in this year’s upcoming NHL playoffs. The Sabers will break the second longest playoff drought in American team sports. The last time Buffalo was in the postseason goes back 14 years to 2011. Who still has the longest non-playoff streak in sports doesn’t really matter.

And speaking of the New York Jets, 56 years after our only championship and 15 years after a playoff appearance, laughter has become the antidote for the pain inflicted upon us year after year. The latest head shaking belly laugh was a couple of weeks ago on March 11 when the Jets traded for quarterback Geno Smith allowing them to dump previously heralded but inept Justin Fields to the Chiefs. Geno was a Jets’ second round draft pick in 2013 out of West Virginia and started as a rookie. He was a less than impressive 11-18 in two seasons before getting punched in the jaw during the 2015 training camp by a teammate over an alleged unpaid debt. That ended his Jets career or so we thought. He was shipped across town to the Giants as a back-up, then to the Chargers for a season before going to Seattle for five where he showed signs of quarterback life. When his Seattle head coach Pete Carroll came to the Raiders last season he brought Geno with him. To say the 2025 season in Vegas was a train wreck would be unfair to the railroad industry. The Raiders finished worst in the league at 3-14. Geno was a disaster, leading the league in times sacked, 55, and interceptions with 17. On the verge of being cut by the Raiders the Jets, as the Jets do, decided he would be worth a sixth-round draft pick and brought him back to New York to continue the debacle. However, there is some good news. The Jets were the only team in the league last year without an interception. Zero. They should get plenty of experience this season picking off passes during practice.

If you didn’t see the movie Nuremberg in the theaters it’s now on Netflix. Of course, it’s the story of the post-Holocaust 1945 Nazi war crime trials and is especially good. It stars Remi Malek and Russell Crowe but the real sleeper in the cast is Michael Shannon as the lead prosecutor. Since I first saw him in Boardwalk Empire, anything Shannon does becomes better. Definitely worth the watch.

And finally, Passover starts this week with Seder dinner on Wednesday night. It’s a major Jewish holiday that the Book of Exodus celebrates when the ancient Israelites escaped from slavery in Egypt. The holiday runs for seven days and it’s a grueling seven days for modern Jews. Lore has it back in the day the Jews fled oppression in such a hurry that their bread didn’t have time to rise so they were forced to eat unleavened items during the exodus. It was an exit so fast that we pay for it today. Therefore for the next week observant Jews don’t eat anything leavened. That’s no bread; instead matzah for the masses. And that’s not all—no products from wheat, barley, rye, or oats—which means no bread or pasta or cookies. Or cakes, crackers or tortillas for Mexican night. Or pizza. Or pretzels. Or my Sunday salt bagel. Or liquor or beer derived from those grains. Popcorn? Fuhgetaboutit. It’s matzah, matzah and more matzah which just ties up your digestive kishka’s into knots. So if you are celebrating, I’d wish you a happy Passover but with the dietary restrictions, that’s not really possible. Instead, let’s make it a peaceful one. Something we all can easily digest.

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

When the air raid warning sirens started blaring two weekends ago in Jerusalem, Jill Metlin was too busy to be scared.

“I can’t say I was scared, in fact I wasn’t,” Ms. Metlin said. “If nothing else I felt resolve that we had a plan and it was my job to make sure we followed the plan.”

Professionally, Jill is the Israel and Overseas Manager for the Jewish Federation & Foundation of Northeast Florida encompassing four counties around Jacksonville, FL, her home. Personally, she is married to Paul Metlin, whom I met 15 years ago at a Pittsburgh Pirates baseball camp and even though his 40 mph curve ball twists me into a pretzel at the plate, he has become a close friend.

In her role with the Federation, Jill planed the latest mission trip, called AsOne CommUNITY which provided the opportunity for her community to visit Israel and Jewish diaspora countries to better understand the peoplehood; to see firsthand the work of the Federation and to travel and learn together. The voyage was an interfaith mission, 25 in total with seven being non-Jews.

Saturday morning February 28 was scheduled to be a leisurely morning for the group in Jerusalem: a late breakfast and then an afternoon of touring. They spent the previous three days in Hadera-Enron, an Israeli region that is a sister city to the Jacksonville Jewish community. Following the Hadera-Enron visit, two stops remained on the eight-day journey— Jerusalem and finally Tel Aviv.

Jerusalem’s David Citadel Hotel was quiet two weeks ago yesterday. Even though it’s located amidst the hustle and bustle of the Mamilla Mall near city center, it was Shabbat in Israel when businesses and activities take a peaceful rest from the daily swarm of activity. Except this day turned out to be anything but a normal Shabbat.

“About eight o’clock in the morning our phones started buzzing with the news and a warning that Iran was just attacked,” Jill remembered, thankful that their Israeli tour operator, Giant Leaps, had all the participants download an app called Homefront Command when they first arrived in the country. The primary function of the alert service is to warn its users if missiles or other disruptions are heading toward their location.

Minutes after the news of the attack, the first air raid siren was sounded which is a warning that the area may be under attack. When the second one blared a couple of minutes later, there was no ‘maybe’ anymore. Everyone needed to get to their designed ‘safe area,’ which is part of the hotel arrival orientation process in the unlikely event of a disturbance much like the obligatory muster station orientation on a cruise ship.

“When the second siren sounded, we had 90 seconds to put on some clothes and shoes, grab our room key, phone and some water and get to our safe area which was in a stairwell,” Jill said. “Our group was scattered throughout the hotel so not everyone was in the same safe room. I was with six from our group and about 20 other people whom I didn’t know which included families, kids and even a dog. We were in there for about a half hour until we got the all-clear signal on our phones.”

It was Ms. Metlin’s 10th visit to Israel but the first time she encountered sirens and a scramble for safety and cover.

Following the all-clear, the entire Jacksonville contingent met in the lobby and were briefed by the Giant Leaps personnel. It was deemed safe to continue their previously scheduled activity, which was a Jerusalem walking tour.

Most major Israeli tour companies provide plain clothes security personnel to accompany the foreign tourists. Almost all are ex-military, IDF. It’s an added layer of protection for ‘if and when.’

“At about four o’clock in the afternoon, while we were out, the alarms sounded again,” she said. “Security and the guides took us to a safe room in a local apartment building they were aware of. We were there less than half an hour. Ironically, with us in that safe room was former Israeli president Reuven Rivlin (2014-21) which turned out to be an incredible 20 minutes listening and learning from him.”

Saturday night the group canceled their scheduled activities and opted to stay in the comfortable and presumably safe surroundings of the hotel. As they prepared to sleep, learning from the morning experience, most slept with safe room clothes on and necessities bedside. Instead of sleeping with the proverbial one eye open, they had one ear open which turned out to be fortuitous. Alarms sounded at midnight and again at 4 am scattering the group back into the stairwells.

Sunday the group was in a “holding pattern” as Jill described it. The Tel Aviv airspace was shut down on Saturday so they made the best of things including some ventures outside for walks and a scheduled afternoon lecture by noted Israeli historian Gil Troy.

Sunday evening the conversation turned to leaving Israel. Even though planes were grounded they were advised there was an escape route through Egypt. No alarms were sounded that night. Jill made the decision to stay away from her cell phone with social media rumors and speculation. “I needed to stay focused, do my job and be responsible for the group” she said and added “I depended on our tour guides to give us the latest verified information and advice.”

Monday originally was to be the last day in Jerusalem before ending the trip in Tel Aviv. However, both Jerusalem and Tel Aviv businesses were shut down and all flights canceled, so the conversation focused in earnest about getting back to the United States.

Of the 25 in the Jacksonville group, 15 decided to leave while 10 stayed behind wanting to continue the mission with no guarantee or surety about what was to come.

“We were never told we had to leave but that option was there if that’s what we wanted to do,” Jill said. She was with the 15 who opted to return home while the trip co-coordinator stayed with the remainder.

Giant Leaps put a plan into motion to help the evacuation. First, a bus would take them from Jerusalem to Eilat, Israel’s southernmost city on the Red Sea bordering Jordan and Egypt. The four-hour bus ride wasn’t without incident as a warning siren sounded during the journey and the bus had to get off the road and wait about 15 minutes for the all-clear signal before continuing. Once they arrived in Eilat, the tour guide, van driver and the two security guards left. As Israeli citizens they couldn’t cross the border and went as far as they were authorized.

“We got off the bus and had to carry our luggage across the Egyptian border,” Ms. Metlin said. “We were met by a woman that had our Egyptian visas and she also handed me an envelope. It was sealed, but full of cash. I imagine that was used to guarantee our border crossing but I didn’t want to know. On the envelope was the name of a gentlemen who was to meet us and get us into Egypt and to a hotel that was pre-arranged for us,” Jill said and continued, “It was very chaotic everywhere with people yelling and screaming at each other in Arabic but the gentleman got us through without incident.”

The hotel wasn’t a place where you’d take the family for a week’s vacation, far from it. But for a short night of rest as part of an evacuation, it served its purpose. “We had a 4 am wake-up call and our escort was back at 4:45 am with two vans,” Jill said. “It was pitch dark, the roads weren’t paved, there were five roadblocks on the way and at each roadblock we had to give our passports to the inspectors to enable us to keep going.”

The destination was an airport near Taba, Egypt, a beach resort community in the Sinai Peninsula. If a photo op is on your travel itinerary, then Taba might be your place. From there you can see Egypt, Israel, Jordan and Saudi Arabia.

“The airport in Taba was mobbed, there was no coordination on anything, lines upon lines and nothing in English. For us it was a total cluster,” Jill said. “We got there about 6:30 am, they put us in a room with metal chairs and some water. Finally at 9 am they said it was time to go.

“All we knew was the plane was chartered by the Israeli government and was headed to Athens, Greece, four hours away. When we landed in Athens we all definitely felt relief,” she said.

There actually turned out to be one more sightseeing day after all. Giant Leaps arranged hotel rooms in Athens. The group relished leaving the chaos behind and were actually able to enjoy the day. “We had each other, a sense of community, which was much more comforting than going alone,” she said.

The next morning, Wednesday March 4, was the best 22-hour travel day any of the attendees could want. They flew from Athens to London to Charlotte, NC and ultimately landing in Jacksonville late that evening when you factor in the six-hour time difference.

Interestingly a day later, Israeli officials advised the remaining 10 on the mission that it was best to return to the States. Eight took the same route home. Two opted to stay in Israel.

Once home, Jill had a chance to finally catch her breath and get caught up on some sleep. The relief of getting out of Israel and home safely aside, she said her one professional regret was half of the members of the trip were in Israel for the first time and never really had the opportunity to see the totality of the beauty of the Jewish homeland.

Did the interruption of the mission at all temper Jill Metlin’s resolve and feelings about Israel and future visits? Not a shekel’s chance.

So, ask Jill when she is going back to Israel and there is no hesitancy in her reply.

“As soon as possible.”

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

Good morning and welcome back to daylight savings time. Just a little hint in case you forgot, don’t live in Arizona or Hawaii, and got an hour’s more sleep today than you were due.

Today’s SMC comes from St. Louis, MO. In my 45 years of extensive business travel, sprinkled with a fair share of leisure, I’ve been everywhere man, except the city of St. Louis. Back in the old TWA days I changed planes in STL more often than TWA filed for bankruptcy, but never left the airport. Until this weekend. The Missouri Valley Conference (MVC) basketball tournament, tabbed as Arch Madness, brought me to downtown STL for the first time. Okay, I hear the collective ‘Why’? Fair question. Sixteen years ago, while living in Birmingham, AL, Rob Ehsan became an assistant basketball coach at University of Alabama at Birmingham (UAB). I was a corporate as well as personal booster of the program. Rob and I became friends and despite a pretty good age gap, the friendship has enhanced through the years over business, family, life and of course, basketball.. In 2016, Ehsan then 34, was elevated to head coach at UAB. He left Birmingham in 2020 after four successful years and a won-loss record of 76-57. Then to Stanford as an assistant for three seasons under his good friend and mentor Jerod Haase before taking a head coaching job of his own again at UIC-University of Illinois Chicago last season. UIC plays in the Missouri Valley Conference. Ehsan and UIC Athletic Director Andrea Williams, a newly found friend, encouraged me to meet them in St. Louie for the tournament. I did. And once in STL I had to take the ten-minute walk from the hotel to the Gateway Arch because everyone told me I should. I learned more about the Arch than I ever gave any thought about. It was built as a tribute to Thomas Jefferson signifying the nation’s westward expansion. At 630 feet high it’s the tallest monument in the United States. Monument being the key word. It’s the second highest in the world only taking a backseat to the Eiffel Tower. The Arch is also 630 feet wide, producing a perfect geometric curve. And if you think there’s red tape and construction delays these days consider the Arch was approved by Congress in 1935; construction of the stainless-steel exterior didn’t actually begin until 1963 and finally opened to the public a relatively short 60 years ago in 1967. I also spent the $19 for the tram ride to the top. If you are visiting St. Louis and run out of time to take the tram, put that in your personal win column. Oh yeah, back to the basketball. Well, so far so good for UIC, winning their first two tournament games by a combined 34 points. The victories advanced them to this morning’s championship game against Northern Iowa on CBS. It’s the first conference tournament final ever for UIC. Win it and they get a spot in the Big Dance. Let this improbable run continue. Go Flames.

And speaking of college basketball conference tournaments, next weekend is the big one for most conferences on the eve of Selection Sunday a week from today. This season there’s only one Division I team that’s undefeated and still may have to sweat being included in the Madness. Miami University of Oxford, Ohio, not to be confused with The U of Coral Gables, finished the season with a perfect record —31-0. The War Hawks play in the MAC, the Mid-American Conference. That tournament begins later this week in Cleveland. If Miami wins the MAC tourney, they are in. But the rub is if they lose a game, especially in the first round, they become the ultimate ‘bubble’ team. Even though they answered every challenge, Miami may not be all that good after all. Undefeated, but they are only ranked 19th in the polls. However, even worse, those who make a living rating college basketball teams based on a myriad of competitive factors have Miami the 78th best team in the country, while theoretically the best 68 advance to the dance. Even more precarious, Miami’s strength of schedule is 292nd and in non-conference play, against a bunch of cupcakes, they rank 364 out of 365 DI schools. Their resume is precarious at best. For Miami it’s pretty simple: win and you’re in. Lose a game in the MAC tournament and get ready for a sweaty-palms Sunday, two weeks before Palm Sunday.

Kudos to NBC for their great Olympic coverage despite challenging time zone differences. And a great round of applause to all our athletes, medal winners or not, who with class represented the USA. And of course, a standing O for both the men’s and women’s hockey teams for their gold, both teams with 2-1 wins over Canada in overtime. I’m not ready to lay claim that we are the hockey capital of the world, Canada still is, but we represented ourselves so well and should be so proud.

A couple of Olympic wrap-up thoughts: the gold medal game in hockey, if tied after regulation, should revert to the standard five-on-five overtime format as in the NHL playoffs. Three-on-three, while fastidious, shouldn’t cut it with the gold on the line. I was proud to see the men’s hockey team take a bow at the State of the Union. The women should have been honored as well. I couldn’t disagree more with the president singling out Connor Hellebuyck, the outstanding US men’s goalie, for the Presidential Medal of Freedom. Hockey is a team game. Yes, he was the MVP and without him we don’t win, but the reward was a gold medal for the team because we won as a team. It should remain that way. With Russia banned from competition in Olympic team sports it was disappointing not to see the greatest goal scorer in NHL history, Alex Ovechkin, take one final bow in the tournament. How great was 20-year-old Alysa Liu and her championship figure skating performance? Finally, for anyone who says a cricket match takes forever to end, have you ever watched Olympic curling? Is it still going?

A change at the top. In case you missed it, for the past two decades Walmart has been the country’s largest corporation by revenue. Things changed in 2025 as Amazon.com, in a photo finish, tallied $717 billion in sales compared to Walmart’s paltry $713 billion to take over the top spot. Most of Amazon’s sales were delivered to our house.

Happy birthday to Dominic Chianese, Tony Soprano’s Uncle Junior, who just celebrated his 95th.

Paul Anka has been a mainstay virtually all of our lives as a performer, recording artist and incredible song writer. His HBO documentary, Paul Anka: His Way, premiered late last year on HBO Max and is well worth the 100-minute watch. Also, if you are a fan of Harlan Coben British police thrillers you’ll like his Run Away on Netflix. It gets better by the episode. And over on Showtime, Coldwater will keep you on the edge.

The late civil rights activist Jesse Jackson, who died on February 17 at 84, was a heck of an athlete back in his day. He was a three-sport star at Sterling High School in Greenville, SC, earning letters in basketball, baseball and football. Upon graduation in 1959 he turned down a contract to play minor-league baseball for the White Sox and instead opted for a football scholarship to the University of Illinois as a quarterback. Things didn’t work out the way he hoped so after his freshman year he transferred to North Carolina A&T University in Greensboro where he was the student body president and quarterback. In 1963 with Jackson under center, NCA&T won the Central Collegiate Athletic Association, comprised of historically Black colleges and universities, football championship.

Well, this was easy. Last Tuesday night I cashed my NBA season win bet when San Antonio won their 44th game to go over the pre-season total of 43 wins. They sent me to the cashier window with 21 games still remaining on the schedule. My son Jason is my NBA tout and for the second straight year he was right on. Looking to keep riding that winter sports wave, my sleeper hockey play is the Anaheim Ducks to record 83 or more points this season. The surprising Ducks have 73, which leaves me needing six wins with 20 games remaining. I like my position.

Here’s a rock ‘n roll question not asked very often, if ever? What happened to Helen Shapiro? In 1963 the 16-year-old Ms. Shapiro headlined a UK pop tour that had the Beatles on the same bill. Or the ‘Dynamic’ Beatles, as the concert posters promoted. Early in the tour, the then unknown lads from Liverpool were the opening act of the eight groups. In fact, trying to broaden their exposure, John Lennon and Paul McCartney wrote Misery for the popular Ms. Shapiro hoping she would record it and with her fame it would enhance the Beatles’ songwriting credentials. But she was on tour and didn’t have the time. So the Beatles did and it ended up on their first album, Please Please Me in late 1963. Beatlemania exploded while Helen Shapiro’s pop career imploded. Later in life she became active in Jewish and gospel-style recordings. Ms. Shapiro is 79 and living in London.

And if you knew that, then here’s one about British pop music I guarantee you didn’t. In 1967 a real anomaly happened on the music charts. The long-ago forgotten group of—get this—Dave Dee Dozy Beaky Mick & Titch (no kidding) released Zabadak, with an incredibly unusual mix of psychedelic rock with tribal-style chanting and heavy percussion and brass. The song hit number one on the Canadian charts; number three in the UK and no further than 52 on the US Billboard top 100. Put it in your browser and tell me what’s wrong with the Canadians taste in music?

Lou Holtz died this past Wednesday at 89. Holtz spent his career in college football first as an undersized linebacker at Kent State then into coaching and finally broadcasting. His coaching style was part philosopher and part motivator. It worked with an overall head coaching record of 249-132-7 in 33 seasons. In 1988 Lou won a natty at Notre Dame and was 100-30-2 in 11 seasons in South Bend. But there is one dark part of Coach Holtz’s resume that stays under the radar. In 1976 he strayed to the NFL and became the head coach of the Jets. Not sure what he was thinking. The Jets went 3-10 that season before Lou quit with one game remaining. He said afterwards, “God did not put Lou Holtz on this earth to coach pro football.” What he really meant to say was, ‘God didn’t put Lou Holtz, nor anyone else, on this earth to coach the New York Jets.’

And finally, it won’t take much of an argument to agree that the Raiders’ Geno Smith was the worst quarterback in the NFL last season. His league leading 17 interceptions, poor decision making and immobility help sink Las Vegas to the worst record in the league. The Raiders released Geno on Friday. Nobody was surprised. After he was cut, Smith posted on X/Twitter “THANK YOU LORD.” To which all Raiders fans say a hearty ‘Amen.’

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

When Bill Mazeroski, with one swing of a baseball bat, hit the home run to beat the New York Yankees in 1960 and deliver a World Series championship to Pittsburgh, I jumped up and down and then ran around my block, arms over my head the same way Maz did a few minutes earlier in his Pirates uniform.

When Jack Hughes, with one swing of a hockey stick, scored the overtime goal last Sunday to deliver the Olympic gold medal for USA men’s hockey, I wanted to jump the same way but aerodynamically I can’t defy gravity anymore and didn’t try at the risk of an Achilles tear. When I learned that Jack Hughes is a fellow Jew, a member of the tribe, I wanted to run around but that would be a bad sight for my neighbors. So, I just raised my arms in celebration. Hughes, who plays for New Jersey in the NHL, now has an Olympic gold medal on his mantel to go with the bar mitzvah kiddish cup his rabbi gave him 11 years ago.

But I digress. Today is about Bill Mazeroski and his lifelong impact on me. Maz died a week ago Friday at age 89. He leaves behind a legacy and a video clip for the ages. Mazeroski was the first and still the only major league baseball player to hit a walk-off winning home run in a Game 7 of the World Series.

October 13, 1960, was a Thursday and I begrudgingly went to school at Meadowbrook Elementary in East Meadow, NY. It was the final game of the World Series played in the afternoon because there was no such thing as night World Series games back then. It meant way more to me than another day in the third grade but my mom didn’t see it that way. Boo. So, I neatly tucked my transistor radio and cool-for-the-day dual earpieces under the bologna sandwich, three slices of bologna between a couple of slices of Wonder Bread, and a thermos in my very trendy Zorro lunch box. Come one o’clock in the afternoon I suddenly had to use the restroom. Often. If I knew what a prostate was, or even could pronounce it, I would have played the ‘prostate acting up’ card with Miss Reich, our pretty teacher who may have been 22 years old, give or take. Instead, I just raised my hand and said I had to go. I think Miss R caught on pretty quickly. Other boys, dreaded Yankee fans no doubt, also had the same issue that afternoon. It was a urologist’s dream.

School ended at three. A short bus trip got me home by 3:20. I sprinted down to our den, turned on the black and white Admiral television set and after a prolonged and agonizing warm-up, the picture finally came on just as the Yankees scored two runs off Bob Friend to tie the slugfest at 9-9 going to the bottom of the ninth inning. Minutes later, at 3:36 pm, after the Yankees Ralph Terry threw light-hitting Maz a high fastball, the next pitch was over left fielder Yogi Berra’s head, 406 feet into a Forbes Field parking lot and a championship for my Pirates who were huge underdogs in the Series. I leaped in the air and took that run around the neighborhood wearing my cherished Pirates plastic batting helmet. After the game Yogi said, as only Yogi could say, “We made too many wrong mistakes to win.” That one swing of the bat by the 24-year-old Mazeroski, the youngest regular in the Pirates line-up, left Mickey Mantle crying at his locker and Casey Stengel, who managed the Yankees for 12 years and seven World Series championships, out of a job.

After my dash around the neighborhood, I got home winded and waited for what seemed like hours for Dad to arrive. I was a huge Pittsburgh Pirates fan because my dad was. That was the way it was supposed to be, wasn’t it? As a kid, the apple should never fall very far from the tree. Dad was at work in New York City, a belt salesman back in those days, and was later than normal getting home. He missed his regular train to stand in front of E.J. Korvette’s appliance store and watch the game on a television they had in the showcase window. When Maz hit the homer, hundreds of Yankee fans just sulked away. Dad clapped, yelled “Finally,” and caught the late train. When his black 1956 Hudson Hornet finally came around the corner I met him on the driveway and gave him a great big hug like the Pirates did to Maz. “We did it Dad, we won!”

Bill Mazeroski not only became a hero for the ages to the city of Pittsburgh but he became mine as well. My Pirates interest only accelerated through the 1960s and even though Roberto Clemente became my favorite baseball player, the hero status I had for Maz was one of worship, never waning.

The years passed, life was in front of me and my daily fanaticism with baseball moved a notch toward the back burner. Sure I was excited when the Pirates won the World Series in 1971 and again in 1979 but it was nothing like the 1960 experience and my impressionable youth which still resonates today. And truth be told somewhere in the 80s I went through a conversion to a Yankees fan but the Pirates will always have a soft spot for me.

Jump ahead a half century from 1960 to 2010 and one of those bucket list items. I had heard about Major League Baseball fantasy camps. These were designed for middle aged to older guys, frustrated because they always wanted to play the game at an elevated level but never had the skill set. Say hello to me. About half the MLB teams sponsored camps featuring old time ball players as guest celebrities. They coached us and laughed at us on the field. However, baseball was only one part of the camp experience. Socialization with other campers and the ex-pros rounded out the days off the field. I had met some guys who had previously attended fantasy camps, the Dodgers and Royals, and couldn’t stop raving about it. Even though I hadn’t picked up a baseball since 1968, I wanted to go to one. My wife encouraged me. The Pirates Fantasy Camp in 2010 was going to be the 50th celebration of the 1960 team. If I ever was going to do it, this was the time.

When I found out eight members of that ‘60 World Championship team were going to be at that camp as coaches that cinched the deal. It was a week in Bradenton, Florida, at the Pirates spring training headquarters. Of course the marquee attraction of the ‘60 team was Bill Mazeroski and he was top billed on the camp brochure. I sent my check, a little over three grand, and went to a local batting cage.

On that January ‘10 opening night of fantasy camp I was star-struck. Former 1960 Pirates like Vernon Law, Bob Friend, Bill Virdon, Joe Gibbon and Bob Skinner were there, mingling and talking with fellow campers. And of course, Maz. I couldn’t fathom then, 50 years later, I would be in the same room as these guys. Less hair, a few more pounds, but who cared—that described me too. Instantly, I was that eight-year-old kid again.

However, I was really 57. By then professionally accomplished. Throughout my career I have spoken at trade shows and conferences to groups of over a thousand attendees. I testified before congressional sub-committees and state legislatures and even did a half-dozen very bad stand-up comedy gigs in front of 400 strangers. But nothing intimated me more than seeing Bill Mazeroski, then 74, right in front of me that first night of camp.

I should have gone over, introduced myself and told him what he meant to me as a kid. Instead, I was gutless. Finally on the second day, my team coached by former Pirates and Yankees manager Bill Virdon, played Maz’s team at McKechnie Field where the Pirates play their spring games. We were the home team and took the field first. I was warming up our infielders at first base, took a look over my right shoulder and here comes Maz to coach first base for the other team. Holy shit! He had a camp roster in his hand and before I could say anything to him, chomping on his trademark cigar, he said, “Hey, Alabama, what are you doing here?” Seemingly Pirates camp doesn’t have much of a following in Birmingham, Alabama, my home at the time. I guess that made me stand out. Short of bowing, I went over and shook his hand. And that started a relationship that I never would have guessed could happen. We chatted between pitches, me asking more questions than I could even think of. His ever-lit cigar blew smoke right at me. The whole situation was surreal. We blew a 6-0 lead but hung on for an 8-6 win. I also walked away with a mild case of emphysema but who cared, it was Bill Mazeroski! The win was the second most exciting thing of the day for me. I ran back to my room in the Pirates dorm to call my dad and tell him about Maz. I was eight years old again.

That night dinner was in the camp dining room. Toward the end of the evening I saw Maz walk outside. Feeling pretty full of myself after that wonderful afternoon on the ball field, I followed him and pulled a real camp rookie boner. Feeling my oats just a bit, I stopped Maz and told him about the adolescent sibling rivalry my brother Mike, three years my junior, and I used to have in the mid-1960s. I’m reasonably sure it was nothing he cared about. Mike was a Yankees fan; me of course a staunch Pirate backer. But our rivalry wasn’t necessarily about the teams; instead it was about the second basemen— Maz and the Yankees’ Bobby Richardson— two of the best in the game but who was really better?

Maz could have easily shooed me away but he didn’t. Much to my surprise he seemed amused. He said, “Get your brother on the phone for me.” I did. Fortunately, Mike answered. “I have someone who wants to talk with you,” and I handed the phone to the greatest second baseman ever.

Maz started by saying to Mike, “So you think Bobby Richardson was better than me?” I’m not sure what happened after that as I could only hear one side of the conversation. My brother was a heck of salesman during his career but I had him as a big underdog in this conversation. The call lasted maybe two minutes. Maz handed the phone back and said, “I just got him straightened out.” Mike then told me, “Well, there is no doubt in his mind now that Bobby Richardson was better.”

Ironically, though Mazeroski was the 1960 World Series hero, Richardson was voted the MVP of the Series by the sportswriters, still the only time a member of the losing World Series team has won the award. If the voting was done after the game, and not when the Yankees had a three-run lead in the eighth inning, I have no doubt that the MVP would have shifted to Maz for his heroics. While Maz was only a career .260 hitter, his defense and his walk-off notoriety propelled him to induction into the National Baseball Hall of Fame in 2001. He played all 17 years of his career, 1956-72, with Pittsburgh, every game with a big hunk of chew tucked into his left cheek. He won two World Championships in ‘60 and ‘71. Maz was a 10-time All-Star and won a Gold Glove every year from 1963-70. He still holds the MLB record for most double plays turned by a second baseman with 1,706. Bobby Richardson doesn’t. Renowned baseball statistician Bill James said, “Bill Mazeroski’s defensive numbers are probably the most impressive of any player at any position in the game’s history.” As I still remind my brother—‘Bill Mazeroski is in the Hall of Fame; Bobby Richardson has to buy a ticket to get in.’ Case closed.

I was at Pirates camp for three years while Maz was still the main attraction. He was as humble as they came. He never thought the song was about him nor did he particularly relish the attention, but heads turned when he walked into a room. It was a visit from the pope. The Pirates pope. He was larger than life. Maz loved to spend evenings during camp chatting and regaling campers with baseball stories. He was uncomfortable talking about the home run but would oblige because people wanted to. In return all we had to do was always make sure his glass of Chivas Regal was never empty. Those evenings for us were what baseball dreams were made of.

In 2014 as I was writing a book about my camp experiences, I told Maz about the project and asked him if he would consider authoring the foreword and have his name on the cover. The book would ultimately become entitled The Most Wonderful Week of the Year, which perfectly described fantasy camp.

Maz told me he wasn’t much of a writer but he would be glad to share some thoughts that I might be able to use. I said wonderful. Maybe I spoke too soon.

In part Maz wrote, “I’ve played with, against, and watched some great first basemen in all my years in baseball and I can honestly tell you Roy Berger isn’t one of them.” Double ouch!

Bill Mazeroski died peacefully nine days ago on February 20. A part of my childhood died with him.

At eight years old in 1960 never did I think that one swing of a baseball bat would still resonate with me for the next sixty-six years.

Thanks, Maz.

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

To say she pulled no punches would be a wee bit of an understatement.

“If they don’t like it, let them go ahead and fly another airline.” Whoa! I didn’t expect that when I asked a flight attendant last Monday on my Southwest Airlines trip from Las Vegas to Birmingham, Alabama, how the public response has been to Southwest’s new boarding and assigned seating changes.

The former fun little carrier that was started by Herb Keller and Rollin King in 1967 with three airplanes which flew exclusively intrastate Texas hopping between Dallas, Houston and San Antonio. They built that into a giant specializing in convenience and customer service for almost 60 years. Currently Southwest commands about 20% of the domestic passenger market, but is now entering a very treacherous stage despite becoming a domestic behemoth. Can anyone say New Coke?

Over the past five years what was once the most customer friendly domestic airline has been chipping away at its clientele and its reputation.

Bags fly free? Gone. Cattle-car but efficient boarding? Gone, replaced by a surcharge allowing fliers to improve their boarding positions. Cheaper fares? Mostly gone, too. And then three weeks ago, on January 27, came the end of Southwest as we once knew it—the introduction of assigned seating overturned the entire apple cart that once was so full of goodwill and customer service.

Jogging your 1985 memory, Coca-Cola, then the big dog in the soft drink industry, decided it was time for something new and spent massive amounts of money in developing and marketing what they labeled ‘New Coke.’ It was a colossal failure right from the get-go; the company received over 8,000 daily complaint calls and 77 days later the experiment went to the graveyard. More recently, Southwest, despite its record 2025 revenues said that wasn’t enough and launched 2026 changing the entire formula that made it the success its become. Kinda like Coke rolling out New Coke for no reason. Now, the airline whose New York Stock Exchange symbol since 1971 has been LUV is no longer feeling that luv from its faithful.

Early returns of the new format from many SWA loyalists has not been good. Everything that made Southwest different is gone, replaced by the same formula used by Delta, United and American, carries that Southwest once mocked mercilessly.

I’ve been a Southwest customer since 1999, the year I moved to Birmingham. As President and CEO of travel assistance provider Medjet (Medjet.com) most of my travel was domestic. We had sales offices in multiple cities and customers around the country. Delta dominated the Birmingham market, but Southwest was a friendly and cost-effective alternative. It also allowed me to avoid changing planes in ATL, every road warriors’ nightmare.

I was with Southwest in the days of the color-coded numbered boarding cards. I would get to the airport a couple of hours pre-flight and get on a line that didn’t exist until I got there trying to grab number one. That assured me of my exit row seat aka Southwest Airlines first class. Then the game changed— the numbers were gone and A/B/C group colored boarding passes were given out in tandem to checking in at the gate. Then it was 24-hour advance check-in on your phone. Or you could buy a 36-hour check-in assuring you of that A boarding group, a choice seat and overhead space.

In more than a half-century of airline travel my best airline perk is my Southwest Companion Pass. I’ve qualified every year since 2015. Over the years my Companion Pass has become my best friend. Simply, I designate a companion. They fly free wherever I go as long as we are on the same itinerary. And the bonus is I can change my companion three times a year, which means if Andi starts to give me fits, I can designate her for reassignment on the taxi squad and switch my free traveling companion. And then she can rehab on the sidelines and work her way back up as my final annual companion switch. This benefit literally saves me thousands of dollars a year and is truly appreciated. And unless I miss my guess, and I hope I do, it probably won’t be around much longer as SWA will try and monetize it like they’ve done with everything else.

The airline has two tiers of status flyers: A-List and A-List Preferred. Back in the open seating days of old Coke, oops I mean Southwest, that was good for a choice boarding position in the first boarding group. That has gone away and now the traveler becomes a prisoner of some kind of algorithm assigning eight numbered boarding groups.

However, I’ve remained fortunate to be an A-List Preferred the past couple of years even though I am not flying as much. I now earn my status through a Southwest branded credit card. That is the epitome of good news/bad news. What that entitles me to with the new system is important. In addition to assigned seating, Southwest has also gone to priority seating offering more leg room in the first six rows and exit rows of the aircraft. It’s available for purchase depending upon the fare basis and ticket cost but can run up to $100 for a segment. As an A-List Preferred I can go right to the seating map at booking and grab my exit aisle with no up-charge. I may not like the system, but I like the benefit.

The only thing better than an exit row aisle seat is an empty middle seat to complement it. I was pretty good at protecting that unoccupied seat and keeping it that way during open seating. Or if the flight was full then drafting my middle seat companion. Offensive lineman and linebackers need not apply. The New Coke format doesn’t let me do that anymore. The airline controls the seats now.

My experience overall so far has been okay. I’ve flown five legs since the change was made and because of my A-List Preferred status it’s been fine save for the boarding process taking at least five minutes longer that it used to. What we are hearing and reading from the public tells a little different tale than maybe the airline wants to admit. People are confused. And frustrated. Sure, the regulars get it but the very casual traveler who used to get on-board a LUV flight and grab the seat they wanted now have to hunt and peck. Overheads fill up quickly in the front from early boarders. Those in the same area who board later find overhead space rare. One recent traveler was sitting in row five and the closest overhead space was in row 20. That is incredibly uphill when trying to deplane. Of course Southwest has an answer for that too in what they call ‘priority boarding.’ No matter what boarding group number you are assigned to, $30 gets you on the plane before anyone else. More cha-ching.

I’ve flown five legs since the change was made and because of my A-List Preferred status it’s been okay save for taking at least five minutes longer during the boarding process. For others not so much. In fact, comparisons have publicly been made to the Coca-Cola flop with New Coke and hoping that ‘New’ Southwest gets scrapped and return to the old, successful model like Coke did.

Along with complaints about available overhead bins, the airline has other issues to ferret out. If you pay the basic published fare you don’t get to pick a seat until 24 hours before flight or at check-in. That has created havoc for budget minded families who can’t get seats together. One airport checked-in family had a two and a five-year old assigned to seats, not together, and away from Mom and Dad. Now even further delays in asking people to change seats so the family can be together. This happens over and over again every day. It was never an issue in open seating. Others are confused by the process and struggle to find their assigned seats. And then there is the plain stupidity on the airlines part—a flyer who paid for an elite seat had a middle seat passenger next to him. There were 100 available seats on the flight. He moved a row back which was totally empty. A flight attendant saw this and approached asking him where his seat was. He pointed to the row in front. She told him, “We can’t leave until you are in your own seat.”

Unlike New Coke, Southwest will survive this drastic model revision but the days of the old, friendly, customer service driven airline are gone. Further changes are still to come based upon experience and customer feedback. However, SWA will cease to become the airline of choice for many diehards and casual travelers. They now have equal options elsewhere in the terminal.

In other words, as my flight attendant told me on Monday, “If they don’t like it, let them fly another airline.”

Many will.

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

Good morning. I hope everyone had a great Valentine’s Day and gentlemen you treated your s/o with all the trimmings. You will need all that equity next year when Valentine’s Day is also Super Bowl Sunday.

The Chinook in the Pike Place Fish Market are joyfully jumping. What a sports fall/winter it’s been for the city of Seattle. The Mariners came within a run of making the World Series losing the American League Championship Series to Toronto four games to three; the Seahawks just hoisted the Super Bowl trophy for all the 12’s; the hockey Kraken are knocking on the Stanley Cup Playoffs’ door while the SuperSonics have not lost a basketball game in over 18 years while their successor, the OKC Thunder, are the defending NBA champs and odds-on to win again in June. Not too shabby.

Okay, I’ll turn myself in. Sitting with a nice wager on Seattle last Sunday, come midway through the first quarter I had little reason to worry. However, I am guilty of actually enjoying the halftime festivities. So much so that I went and watched it again on Monday to make sure I really did like it. The production, set and pageantry were incredible for a stage wheeled out to the middle of a football field for a 13-minute performance. I’m not sure I would have enjoyed it as much in English but the upbeat Spanish feel to me wasn’t political, just fun for a few minutes. Sixty years ago, for Super Bowl I, we got the University of Arizona Symphonic Marching Band and the Grambling University Marching Band. In 1967 Puerto Rico’s Benito Antonio Martinez Ocasio was still 27 years away from being born.

This is interesting: average viewership for the Super Bowl was 125 million; for halftime it jumped to 128 million.

Speaking of Benito Antonio Martinez Ocasio, when he was six years old, he was forced to wear a bunny costume to school for Easter. He was angry about it. The expression on his face was not a happy one. Thereafter, he was dubbed by schoolmates as a bad bunny. When he started his music career about a decade ago, he wanted a stage name that people would remember. It worked.

Over $133 million was wagered in Nevada sportsbooks on the Super Bowl. Almost $10 million of that was lost by the public for a 7.4% hold for the bookmakers. And if you can’t wait to get rid of your money for next year’s VDay game BetMGM, prior to free agency and the draft, has already opened with Seattle at 8-1; the Rams at 9-1 and Buffalo and Baltimore at 12-1 to win the Super Bowl. Don’t sleep on the Jets next season—they are only 25,000-1.

Las Vegas visitation fell by 7.5% in 2025 largely impacted by exorbitant hotel and resort fees and the Canadian tourism market turning dry. One of the busiest times of the year for Vegas has always been Super Bowl weekend. Last weekend, almost like the bigwigs are starting to understand, you could find rooms on the Strip for less than $100 a night. That’s a good start for a comeback.

Who needs Fodor’s or Frommer’s for a travel guide when you have a granddaughter like Harley? When Mom and Dad take her to Belgium in a couple of weeks, it will be the seventh country she’s visited in only six months on the planet. Harley lives in England and has already been to Scotland, France, Czech Republic, United States and Mexico. She liked the US so much, the family is moving back to the States this spring.

A casualty of the cell phone era has been the elimination of those pesky cruise ship photographers.

Speaking of which, before booking your next cruise make sure your child support payments are up to date. Potential passport revocations for those in arrears of $2,500 or more for support payments have been on the federal books since 1996 but rarely enforced. Under the present administration the State Department soon plans to begin revoking passports at its own initiative for deadbeats.

Chew on this for a minute: in 1992 Bill Clinton was elected president of the United States. He was born in 1946. Thirty-two years later in 2024, Donald Trump was elected president for the second time. He too was born in 1946.

Happy birthday to the only one left from the island. Tina Louise, the luscious Ginger Grant from Gilligan’s Island, celebrated her 92nd last Wednesday. Ms. Louise played Ginger from 1964 till 1967. In January 1958 she was featured in a Playboy photo spread.

Dave Barry, formerly of the Miami Herald, was my favorite humor columnist back in the day. He has resurfaced right here on Substack and is just as funny as he ever was.

As Olympic hockey moves into the medal round this week, if you have an hour and a half free take a peek at Miracle: The Boys of ‘80 on Netflix. Some remarkable story lines and footage of how the 1980 US men’s team overcame the Russians and their own head coach Herb Brooks to rock the world in Lake Placid, NY, and win gold. It’s a feel-good story, not just for sports fans but for the entire country back when we lived through the Iran Hostage Crisis, a gasoline shortage, the Cold War resuming and something economists called ‘Stagflation’ when both inflation and unemployment were at all-time highs. At the end of the Boys of ‘80 documentary team captain Mike Eruzione said about the distraction from world events the Olympic hockey team gave us 46 years ago, “We can use a 1980 now.” He scores with that one.

The Beach Boys spanned 24 years between their first and last number one Billboard hits: I Get Around in 1964 to Kokomo in 1988. As impressive as that longevity might be, it isn’t an all-time mark. That belongs to Cher whose first solo single Gypsies, Tramps & Thieves hit number one in 1971; 28 years later in 1999 she topped the list again with Believe. Throw in her I Got You Babe duo with Sonny in 1965 and the number jumps to 35 years between first and last.

We lost a good one when Chuck Negron died on February 2 at 83. The founding member and lead singer of Three Dog Night gave us so much fun music that still resonates and always will. The group, originally called Redwood, had 21 top 40 hits and three number ones: Mama Told Me (1970); Joy to the World (1971) and a year later Black and White. Original members joining Negron were Danny Hutton and the late Cory Wells. The interesting footnote is none of their music was original. Three Dog Night recorded songs written by the likes of Harry Nilsson, Randy Newman, Hoyt Axton, Laura Nyro and a host of others. Or they just covered songs that became hits. Written by Axton, we still don’t know why Jeremiah was a bullfrog.

With the passing last week of former Pittsburgh Pirates pitcher Roy Face there are now only six living players from the classic 1960 World Series between the Pirates and Yankees. Face died Thursday at age 97, eight days shy of his 98th birthday. For those of you too young, Mr. Face was the bullpen ace for Pittsburgh back in the late 50s and 60s. Two things about Face mesmerized me as a young eight-year-old kid who couldn’t get enough baseball: he pitched for my team, the Pirates, and his name was Roy. The only other Roy in my life then was Rogers, so this made Roy Face very special. His given name was Elroy, fortunately mine wasn’t, but later in his career and on his baseball cards he was just Roy. Other than being a Pirate and a fellow Roy, he was also a damn good pitcher. Face was a relief pitcher extraordinaire for the Pirates over 15 seasons. He stood a diminutive 5’7” and weighed 150 pounds. Clearly, he didn’t get batters out by physical intimidation. Instead, he perfected a forkball, the old-time equivalent of today’s split-finger fastball. In 1959 Face posted an 18-1 record, all out of the bullpen. Yep, 18 wins which meant he either entered tie games or the Pirates rallied for come from behind wins or he gave up leads and the team bailed him out. No matter it was 18 wins which is still an all-time record for a reliever and probably always will be. In those days saves weren’t an official stat for a pitcher. In 1969 baseball statisticians went back and credited that stat to those who pitched prior. Thus in 1960, the Pirates World Championship year, Face had 24 regular season saves to go with his ten wins. In the World Series he pitched 10 innings and had three crucial three saves in games one, four and five that ultimately got Pittsburgh to Game 7 and the win. I met Face about a dozen years ago at one of my Pirates camps. I shook his hand, took a picture and told him how much he meant to me as a kid, not the least of which also being a Roy. It was a thrill for me. I’m not so sure he shared my enthusiasm. With the death of Mr. Face, the surviving Pirates of 1960 are World Series hero Bill Mazeroski, 89, who hit the walk-off home run in Game 7, still the only one in baseball history; Cy Young Award winner Vernon Law, 95, and lanky left fielder Bob Skinner, 94. Remaining from the Yankees are second baseman Bobby Richardson and his double play partner shortstop Tony Kubek, both 90. Senior of the six is pitcher Bobby Shantz still going strong at the ripe age of 100.

I’ve been a devoted Southwest Airlines domestic travel customer since we moved to Birmingham, Alabama, in 1999. With Southwest dominating the market in Las Vegas that habit has continued. I said goodbye to the A, B, C boarding group numbers on its final day, January 26th. More bitter than sweet. I also got to experience the newly assigned seat scheme ten days ago. However, immediately noticeable was how much slower the new boarding process is. There’s confusion on the assigned seating and overhead bins tend to fill quicker, making people walk past their seats and squeeze back through again, depending where your seat might be and what new boarding group you are in. Southwest officials told CBS News there will be tweaking of the new system to try and expedite boarding. I’m traveling this week so I get to try it again. The jury is still out and probably will be for a while.

And finally, back to music—this suprised me. Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline, which debuted in June 1969 and has undergone an incredible renaissance through the decades as a worldwide stadium and arena ballad, never ranked number one. The highest it ever reached was number four on August 16, 1969. At least it was in English.

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

This is a story about perfection. This is a story about the New York Jets.

You can read that again, but it still says what you thought it said.

Later today, with a hundred million people and two hundred million eyeballs watching some football game from a hard-to-get-to-nook in California called Santa Clara, I will do what I’ve done every big game Sunday for the past 56 years and give a damn less.

Since early evening on January 12, 1969, when the New York Jets achieved perfection, this day and the game hasn’t really mattered. It won’t today either unless the Patriots (boo) lose. That would be a pleasant thing for Jets fans.

When you’re a Jets fan you are imprisoned for life. In 1961 over on the West Side, Riff sang, “When you’re a Jet you’re a Jet all the way from your first cigarette to your last dying day.” For those of us who remember 1/12/69, and are now closer to our last dying day, we will leave this planet knowing our team, once in our lifetime no matter how long ago, achieved perfection.

So what if we finished this season at 3-13, tied for the worst record in the league. That earned us the second pick of April’s NFL draft and our likely quarterback selection, Dante Moore of Oregon, chose to stay in school another year rather than become a Jet. So what if our non-playoff streak now dates back to 2010, the longest of any team in major American professional sports. Big deal. We are still perfect. 1-0. Only three other NFL teams can brag about that kind of perfection.

So today I will do what I do every year on this day. I will forget about our just completed disastrous season and remember the 1968 season morphing into January of ‘69 when I was 16. I’ll go out to the garage and show Andi what needs to be straightened up. I’ll begin to assemble income tax forms, far more pleasing than watching the Patriots. We hate them because they’re good and we’re not. They dominate our division and we don’t. We are their doormat. Or maybe it’s because on January 3, 2000, Bill Belichick (boo) accepted the Jets head coaching job and exactly one day later, January 4, questioned what he just did and submitted his hand-written resignation on a paper napkin. Three weeks later Belichick was hired by the Patriots and stayed long enough to win six Super Bowls. He also lost three which makes us perfect and he’s not. I will then go to YouTube and watch in its entirety that January 12, 1969, NFL-AFL Championship game between the Jets and the then Baltimore Colts, 15 years before they moved to Indy. Curt Gowdy, Al DeRogatis and Kyle Rote with the classic call. It was the third championship game between the bitter rival AFL and NFL and the first game of that magnitude to be called the Super Bowl. Then I will watch The Ed Sullivan Show, the one that aired when Joe Namath left Miami waving his right index finger telling the world what we already knew—the Jets are number one. Sullivan’s guests that celebratory night were The Chamber Brothers; Gina Lollobrigida (oh my); Don Rickles; Jerry Vale and the easily forgotten comedy act The Nitwits. It was one of the rare occasions when the Sullivan show wasn’t broadcast from New York; instead, at three-month old Circus Circus in Vegas. Great show, better earlier football game. I’ll probably also tune into iTunes and play Marvin Gaye’s, I Heard It Through the Grapevine, the number one song in the country on that historic early ‘69 day. And then at some point today I will run over to the neighborhood Red Rock casino and play a five-number keno card—1/12/69 and 16/7. The date and score of the perfect Jets.

And all of you Packers, Chiefs, Eagles, 49ers, Steelers, Cowboys, Patriots (boo) and even the neighboring Giants supporters who are full of yourselves with those 40 combined Super Bowl trophies, please remember you also lost 21 games between y’all and that is far, far from Jets perfection. Your combined winning percentage is only .655. Ours 1.000%. So, stuff that inside of your Lombardi Trophies. Then there is the league riff-raff from Cleveland, Detroit, Houston and Jacksonville who have never put on the Super Bowl pads and experienced Jets perfection. I’m sure that hurts, but too bad. Let’s not forget Buffalo, the poor 0-4 Super Bowl loser Bills. A Jets division rival. You’ve never sipped Veuve Clicquot like we have. Come to think of it, the Vikings are also zip for four. Slugs.

Otherwise, winless Super Bowl teams are Cincy three times; Atlanta and Carolina twice while Arizona, the Chargers and Titans have been there once but unlike the Jets couldn’t get the job done.

With full disclosure, four teams have played in a Super Bowl and never lost. Tampa Bay and Baltimore (Ravens not Colts) twice; New Orleans and the Jets, once.

Actually, the Jets’ 1968 season success started three years earlier in April 1965 when they selected Joe Namath from Alabama as the first pick of the AFL draft. Then the front office turned over the salary apple cart convincing Namath to sign with the upstart league instead of the St. Louis Cardinals who took him as the 12th selection in the more prestigious NFL draft. (Dick Butkus went to the Bears first). A pro football record contract of $427,000 over three seasons cinched the Namath/Jets deal. The mink coat came later.

That ‘65 season, Namath’s rookie year, started in typical Jets fashion when they lost their first six games as Namath split time under center with third year pro Mike Taliaferro. Joe then got the job full-time. The Jets won five of the last eight.

Building around their quarterback and adding key pieces like Emerson Boozer, Matt Snell, Don Maynard, George Sauer, Pete Lammons, Dave Herman and Winston Hill on offense; then with Al Atkinson, Vernon Biggs, John Elliott, Gerry Philbin, Randy Beverly and Johnny Sample on defense, the good guys improved to 6-6-2 in 1966 and 8-5-1 in ‘67.

It all came together in 1968 with 61-year-old head coach and general manager Weeb Ewbank guiding the team to an 11-3 record and a win over the Oakland Raiders 27-23 in the AFL championship game. In those days there was one playoff game, East winner vs. West champ. Beating the Raiders earned the green and white the right to be slaughtered by the NFL’s Baltimore Colts in what was called, for the first time, the ‘Super Bowl.’

Baltimore, coached by a 33-year-old kid named Don Shula, finished the season 13-1 and were 18-point favorites in the game at the Orange Bowl. Nobody thought the Jets had any chance. The first two championship games between the rival leagues were dominated by Green Bay who had no trouble beating Kansas City and Oakland. Namath, a few days before the game, told those gathered at the Miami Touchdown Club meeting that he guaranteed the Jets would win mainly to conjure up interest in the game that was predicted to be non-competitive. Whether he believed it or not, the tabloids had a field day and went wild with the guarantee. Namath was taken to task the next day at Jets practice by the diminutive but stern Ewbank. Namath in turn retorted, “Well, Coach, we are going to win, aren’t we? I’m just telling them what you told us.” Ewbank shook his head and walked away.

Namath believed that Baltimore quarterback Earl Morrall, subbing for an injured Johnny Unitas, wasn’t of the caliber that the Jets AFL league rivals Oakland’s Daryle Lamonica and KC’s Len Dawson were. The Jets top receiver Don Maynard was hobbled with a pulled hamstring, unbeknownst to the Colts who double-teamed him the entire game thus allowing the Jets to take advantage of single coverage on wide-out George Sauer who caught eight passes for 133 yards. Maynard, the decoy, had none. There’s no getting away with that deceit today when the media watches everything. I remember watching, sitting on the trendy-for-the-era plush green shag carpet in our Long Island den. Maybe an omen that green would be the color of the day? Right after Lloyd Geisel from the Washington National Symphony Orchestra tooted the National Anthem and Apollo 8 astronauts Frank Borman, Jim Lovell and William Anders recited the Pledge of Allegiance, the Jets behind a four-yard touchdown run by hard charging Matt Snell took a 7-0 lead to the halftime locker room. The Florida A&M University marching band provided the halftime entertainment. The second half was all Jets and all Jim Turner who kicked three field goals before Baltimore added a meaningless fourth quarter touchdown. The Colts did some kicking too but instead of through the goalposts it was to their own assess turning the ball over five times in a game that was still remarkably close in net yards—the Jets gained 337, the Colts 324, but Baltimore never could sustain a drive before losing the ball. In fact, Namath was right about Morrall who was intercepted three times before the desperate Colts turned to a hobbled Unitas, Namath’s boyhood idol. Unitas played the fourth quarter; he was 11-24, passing for 110 yards but also had one picked. It was too little, too late for the prohibitive favorites.

That’s it. Over. 16-7. Eighteen point ‘dogs cash. Namath who was 17-28 for 206 yards was the MVP and Broadway Joe officially became an American hero and brand. More importantly, no matter how bad things were to come for the Jets up until today, the Jets are 1-0, a winning percentage of 1.000 in Super Bowls. Perfection

So this evening when Seattle (1-2 in Super Bowls) and New England (6-5 in the big game) play it’s laughingly not even close to Jets perfection. And any Jets fan who watches today’s game has particular interest in Seattle’s roster of ex-Jets. Jason Myers, a Jet in 2018 will be the Seahawks kicker; Leonard Williams, the stellar defensive tackle who wore a Jets’ uniform from 2015-19 joins quarterback Sam Darnold as Seahawks. Darnold was the Jets’ third overall pick in the 2018 draft out of USC; Williams their sixth overall in 2015 also from USC. And as everyone since Joe Namath has, Darnold flamed out in New York after three seasons and has now, of course, become a Super Bowl quarterback wearing a different shade of green. Some Jets fans will root against Darnold, Williams and Myers. Most however will pull for them to beat New England. If that happens those ex-Jets will become our Super Bowl heroes du jour.

As for me, after The Ed Sullivan Show re-run, I will take a nap. And I will dream. I will dream that once more in my lifetime the Jets will play in a Super Bowl. And not to get too greedy, but why not stay perfect and win it?

Sometimes even the most improbable dreams come true. Don’t they?

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

They sat there and just let me hang. It was a slow death. I had a noose around my neck and a firing squad of 12 sitting in front of me armed and ready. Please make it quick. It was taking too long. One, in the back of the room, turned out to be a silent assassin. He, in particular, could have put me out of my misery much sooner. Instead, he just watched my self-inflicted pain.

I was wobbly. Clearly in trouble. Out of my league. Struggling like my eight stand-up comedy gigs in 2006, getting heckled and still hearing one drunk (he probably wasn’t but I’ll feel better believing he was) yelling, “When do the real comedians come on?”Or like my two-year reign of terror as a Las Vegas synagogue president, clearly unprepared and well beyond what little skill level I had. Or as a college freshman entering the U intramural boxing tournament in 1970, fighting (and I use that term very loosely) a football linebacker who thankfully knocked me out 57 seconds into the contest. You see, this past Friday night the silent assassin could have done the same, thrown in the towel for me, but he didn’t. Instead he let me get skewered.

We are cruising this week and our ship, the Silversea Silver Ray, was docked in San Juan for the day on Friday. Four or five months ago, when our excursion options arrived, we opted for a tour of the Puerto Rican rainforest. It sounded like a good idea then. Not so much on Friday. But we went, a 1 pm departure, plenty of time to get back for the six o’clock Shabbat evening service onboard. Had no idea this outing would take over five hours and be about as exciting as watching a Jimmy Carter comedy special on Netflix. It rained as I guess it should in a rainforest. We got wet as I guess we should in a rainforest. The highlight of the trip for me was driving past the town of Carolina, Puerto Rico, home of my baseball idol Roberto Clemente. At that point if we turned around and came back it would have been a heck of a day. We didn’t. Instead, we got back to the ship with about 30 minutes and no time-outs remaining until the Shabbat service started. We had to hustle.

On Friday evenings, at sundown, Jews around the world welcome the Sabbath. By no means are Andi and I temple-goers every Friday night. During my synagogue reign it was maybe three times a month, now down to perhaps one. It’s not acceptable but that’s what it is. However, indulging in food and especially drink for the previous four days of sailing, I had planned to attend on Friday hoping maybe for some forgiveness, but more importantly hoping for more indulgence capacity with a week left in our journey.

We did the same thing a couple of years ago on a journey across the Atlantic from London to New York. About 20 showed up that Friday night; the cruise industry calls the service ‘unhosted’, which means a passenger will lead the service. We all got lucky on that London trip as a Jewish Studies major from Tulane was onboard and did a fantastic job.

Not so much this past Friday night. The Silver Ray is a small ship, about 700 passengers and I told Andi my over/under would be 5.5 Shabbat attendees. I imagined no way would it go over. The ship had set up a room for us in the library with about 25 seats, yarmulkes, prayer books, challah and three bottles of kosher wines for the weekly blessing. Fortunately there were no spare ribs. The only thing missing was someone to lead the service.

We arrived just on the six o’clock button and true to form, I lost my over/under. Actually, there were 12 attendees sitting on their hands waiting to start. Clearly nothing imminent was about to happen. We had a dinner rez 45 minutes later with our travel mates Carla and Bob Reich. I wanted to get the show on the road as my mom used to say, so I stood up and asked who wanted to lead? Either they pretended not to hear me or more likely the assembled group couldn’t. They acted like Bernie on his weekend getaway. Nothing. Not a peep. Not even a bodily movement. In fact, most were older than Bernie. I said, “My only credential is being the past president of a temple in Las Vegas, with past president being the key words. I am no rabbi, not by any means; the closest I’ve ever come was staying one night in a Holiday Inn Express.” No volunteers, not one. Then a lady in the second row, at 64 the youngest and most attractive in the room, said,” Well, why don’t you do it?” I haven’t spoken to my wife since.

Oy, was I in trouble. There were two different sets of prayer books available and also a small, stapled pack of papers that looked to me like a Cliff Notes version of the prayer book. That was good enough. First I said a little silent prayer to my past rabbis —Dr. Kenneth Emert, Jonathan Miller and Ilana Baden, my rabbi now, to please give me strength and let me channel what education you’ve given me and not embarrass myself. It didn’t work.

I figured the best way to get this done and get to dinner quickly was to just go around the room and let the 11 others do responsive reading paragraph by paragraph. What I didn’t plan on was the print on the paper being so dark and smudged it was just about unreadable, the result of a very bad copy machine. Oh well.

Less than 11 minutes later that’s all I had. All that was left was the Mi Sheberach, a prayer for the ill; the Mourner’s Kaddish, a remembrance of deceased loved ones, and a prayer for the state of Israel. Just prior a gentleman in the back row raised his hand and asked when the service is over, can we all introduce ourselves and where we were from. That was a time-killing-godsend. Literally. Doing a sermon about that week’s Torah portion and its meaning wasn’t part of my plan. I had no idea what it was. Nor about peace in the Middle East. That will never happen. Instead, playing to my bailiwick I could have chosen to preach about why the Yankees have done nothing in free-agency or how Bill Belichick could be excluded from the football Hall of Fame. I had my Jewish connections set for both—the Yankees president is Randy Levine; the Patriots owner is Robert Kraft. Instead, I opted to forego for the great idea from the gentleman in the back to introduce ourselves. A wonderful suggestion.

So, we went around the room. A gentleman in the front row was from Toronto, on board for a Canadian film festival with 80 others and their guest lecturer was Judd Hirsch, a Jew, who at 90 still wouldn’t have been the oldest in the room. Mr. Hirsch opted not to attend. Judd Hirsch was always a very smart man.

We continued row by row and finally got to the last couple. She said, “I’m Sherri Alper and my husband, a retired rabbi and I live in Vermont.” Stunned silence. Shook, I said very deliberately, “Ma’am, can you repeat that one more time and say it a bit slower?” She did. He, sitting next to her with a smile, was what she said he was. A retired rabbi. To me he was nothing but a silent assassin.

I said, “Excuse me Rabbi but how can you just sit there and let me tread water in the ocean without offering a life raft?” He laughed and responded, “You did a great job” just like you would tell a third grader who forgot every line in the school play that he was the star of the show.

Well, Rabbi Bob Alper is indeed a retired, happy rabbi. A shipboard youngster at 80, he was a practicing rabbi for 14 years, 12 at a congregation in Philadelphia. With a doctorate in theology from Princeton, he was smart enough to have kept his mouth shut when we were looking for a volunteer to lead our prayer service.

But then it gets better. Mr. Alper, since leaving the ministry, is now a stand-up comedian. He’s only been doing this for the past 38 years. His background as an ordained rabbi literally sets the comedic stage. He’s been on Netflix, CNN, Good Morning America, The Today Show, a regular on Sirius XM, The Comedy Store, comedy festivals around the world and appeared alongside names like Lewis Black, Freddie Roman and Susie Essman. Other than that, he really has no resume at all.

I stood and just stared at him. Shook my head. “Rabbi, you are kidding me, right?” Nope. How can you do that to a fellow Jew, a member of the tribe, and not get me out of this mess? With the final steps of the makeshift service remaining— the official welcoming of Shabbat— the kiddush, the blessing of the wine; the motzi, the blessing of the challah and closing song still ahead it was time for me to cede my very awkward and extremely uncomfortable first and last pulpit.

Rabbi Alper, with a strong resemblance to a present-day Steve Martin, didn’t want to do it but frankly he had no choice. That was about the only thing I was firm about during what was now my excruciating 20 minutes. As Rabbi approached, he told me he just performed in Las Vegas. He was serious. I asked, “Oh where, at Caesars, MGM Grand, Planet Hollywood or Jimmy Kimmel’s Comedy Club?” He said, “No, at a senior citizen center in Henderson.” He wasn’t kidding. I guess almost four decades later a gig is still a gig.

Rabbi led us in the final blessings. Compared to his predecessor he was Sandy Koufax and I a two-bit scrub on the JV. However, before the closing song, he wanted to know if he could do a little monologue for us. He did. The group laughed. I was ecstatic with joy that my tenure in the rabbinate had ended. So was everyone else in the room. Rabbi Alper made sure to give us his website— bobalper.com for the next slow day at sea.

The silent assassin in the back of the room was unmasked.

My rabbinic reviews came back. A social media influencer in Washington DC on X called it a “disaster.” And then went on to say “nobody has ever seen a disaster this big. This guy Berger was a complete fraud, a phony. He’s a loser. It was a fake Shabbat service. Very fake.”

That gets no argument from me.

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

Good morning. Heading to South Florida tomorrow for a 10-day Southern Caribbean ‘Sea Cruise’ as Frankie Ford called it on his 1959 rock hit with the same name. Traveling with some long-time friends from Birmingham on a highly recommended line, Silversea, which we haven’t tried till now. But before getting around to pulling out the suitcase and watching Sunday football, it’s time to empty the Scramble folder:

First things first. As a Miami alum/fan, if you would have asked any of us before the college football season started if the playoffs came down to the ‘Canes having possession of the football for the last drive of the game to win, we would have jumped at the thought. Then after bad midseason losses to Louisville and SMU, if you would have asked us the same question, we would have told you to pour us a tall one of whatever you were drinking. Bottom line is it did happen but the ‘Canes didn’t get the job done. That by no means mitigates what turned out to be a surprisingly great and exciting season. As I’ve written previously, in lieu of a national championship, would we be satisfied with a season that produced wins over Florida, Florida State, Notre Dame, Texas A&M, Ole Miss and Ohio State? The answer would be obvious. Thanks ‘Canes for a great run. Now for Indiana. Just incredible. Miami outplayed them in the second half, but the Hoosiers did everything they needed to do to win. Bravo. The last time such an overwhelming underdog won a championship was 10 years ago when Leicester City, a perennial also-ran, won the English Premier League soccer title. Back then a pundit could have said, ‘“The next wacky thing that’ll happen is Indiana will win the college football championship one day.” Congrats to all Indiana supporters. The last four wins were over Ohio State, Alabama, Oregon and Miami. You left no doubt.

And a final note to the college football season is most experts talked about the decline of the SEC and the rise of the Big Ten on the playing field. Actually, according to the Wall Street Journal, television ratings showed just the opposite. The SEC’s average television audience increased by 49% this season compared to 2024 while the Big Ten dropped 11%. The SEC with one team, Ole Miss in the final four, averaged 4.9 million viewers per game in the regular season while the Big Ten, with two semifinalists Indiana and Oregon, fell to an average of 2.8 million watchers a game.

Is that seat open? Tuesday is a big day in American aviation history. It’s when Southwest Airlines, who since 1971 has been the industry leader in discount fares, peanuts and cattle-car boarding, officially ceases its signature and goes to reserved seating. True, over the last few years Southwest hasn’t really been discount at all since bags no longer fly free, its fares aren’t a value relative to other carriers and its liberal ticket changing policy has gone away. With reserved seating and now also having to pay for premium seats if you don’t have status, Southwest has just become another legacy carrier ala American, Delta and United. Strategy is to induce business travelers who didn’t like the open seating policy. It’ll be interesting to watch how this plays out— if SWA does increase the coveted business share but in the process can retain the bundle of leisure travelers that became its staple.

This would have been tough to get on a Vegas Strip hotel marquee back in the day: Now appearing — Maria Rosario Pilar Martinez Molina Baeza. Instead, they just shortened it to Charo.

I’m not sure I understand this but a couple of weeks ago an inmate in the Clark County (Nevada) Detention Center was accused of murdering his cellmate and taken into custody. Wasn’t he already there?

People I’ve never met: a Sacramento Kings basketball fan; a Columbus Blue Jackets hockey fan.

Back in the mid-1960s into the 70s, Muhammad Ali mesmerized the sports world not only with his boxing skills but his uncanny ability to predict what round he would stop his opponents. He also once joked “I should be a postage stamp because that’s the only way I’ll ever get licked.” Well, just short of a decade after his death another Ali predication came true when the US Postal Service on January 15th unveiled the new Forever stamp of the champ.

I’m no New England Patriots lover by any means but so much for all the gambling naysayers who cited that the Pats played the easiest NFL regular season schedule in the last 46 years and would be an easy playoff out. Their road to the Super Bowl today goes through Denver where New England is a road favorite with the Broncos playing with their back-up quarterback.

Putting some mustard on that ‘dog: in 1916 Nathan Handwerker and his wife Ida borrowed money, $300 in total from friends including Eddie Cantor and Jimmy Durante, to open a hot dog stand on Coney Island. They promoted high-quality beef and freshness of their product. Their hot dog wasn’t kosher, not rabbinically blessed, but promoted it with a new, innovative marketing scheme called ‘kosher style.’ They undercut the competition by selling their ‘dogs for a nickel, instead of ten cents that other nearby boardwalk vendors were asking. It worked. Some 110 years later, last Wednesday, Nathan’s was sold to Smithfield Foods for $450 million.

I feel so much better now. The Wall Street Journal recently ran a correction on page two that the Fairmont Hotel in Monte Carlo does not have 602 rooms as it published. Instead, there are only 596. Thank you for that.

Sixty-two years ago this week, in 1964, Bobby Vinton’s There! I Said It Again hit number one on the rock ‘n roll countdown. It was the last number one hit before the British Invasion dominated the weekly charts with The Beatles I Want To Hold Your Hand securing the top spot.

Speaking of AI, as we did in SMC last week, I had a tax professional tell me that with the IRS being understaffed and underfunded, expect in years to come AI playing a big role in examining tax returns to make sure everything is on the up and up.

The last episode of the second season of Landman on Paramount dropped last weekend. It was as good as advertised. And something I didn’t see coming was watching the first episode of Absentia on Netflix and being captured for all of its three seasons. It’s a psychological thriller starring an unknown to me, Stana Katic, which left me wanting more.

That wine aisle at Costco which looks like it keeps expanding is no mirage. With wine consumption down, and in some areas sharply, blamed on changing tastes, competition from legalized cannabis along with side effects for those taking Ozempic, wineries are now doing something they never envisioned— putting their products on Costco’s and other mass discounters’ shelves to enhance visibility.

Hold on to your hats. A hat trick in hockey is when a player scores three goals in one game. Actually, the term is from cricket when one bowler takes three wickets with three consecutive balls, earning a celebratory hat. The only thing we Americans understand about that is the player gets a hat for doing something we have no idea what it might be. Back to hockey— two weeks ago, Pavel Dorofeyev of the Vegas Golden Knights scored two goals against Toronto and then got the hat trick shortly into the third period. As usual for a home game, hundreds of hats were tossed onto the ice by jubilant fans. Not so fast, however. Because of the delay in clearing the hats off the ice, the Maple Leafs had plenty of time to review the goal before officially challenging it for being offsides. The officials concurred and ruled it ‘no goal.’ Oops. Now dozens of kids in Zambia are walking around with Golden Knights caps. So much for tossing your hat into the ring.

Sorry, we’re full. A week ago Tuesday, Knights rookie Braeden Bowman got a hole-in-one at Southern Highlands golf course. That in itself is probably not SMC worthy of mention. However, when Vegas coach Bruce Cassidy was asked at a press conference the next day if he played with the group he quipped, “No. I asked them but they told me, ‘That’s okay Coach, we already have three.’”

One more hockey note. Longtime shinny fans will remember former goalie Glenn Hall who died on January 7 at age 94. Hall played in the NHL for 20 years, from 1951 until 1971, for three teams—Detroit, Chicago and St. Louis. Ten of those years were with the Blackhawks and winning a Stanley Cup in 1961 and the Vezina Trophy three times as the best goaltender in the NHL. He set a record for goalies that will never be broken—he played in 502 consecutive games from 1955-62, never missing one. Today a goalie is stretched to play three in a row. It rarely happens. Hall also played almost his entire career without a mask. He became the original Scarface. But that’s not this story. He also scared the shit out of me back on November 26, 1966, when the Blackhawks came to New York to play the Rangers. Hall hated the pre-season and was late to training camp or failed to report just about every year. Prior to the ‘66 season he stayed home at his farm up in Stony Point, Alberta. He told team brass he was staying home because he had to “paint his barn.” Well, of course he did show up in time for the regular season and when the Blackhawks came to New York that November Saturday afternoon, I was 14 and at the game with my running buddy of the day Phil Mark. Back then the former Madison Square Garden had little security and the visiting team’s locker room was down a corridor that was easily accessible to fans while the team marched to and from the ice. I figured I would be a wise guy. After the first period we hustled down to the Blackhawks locker room entrance and when Hall got there I yelled, “Hey Hall, why don’t you go paint your barn.” I can still see it like it happened fifteen minutes ago. He didn’t miss a beat. He was maskless. He looked me right in the eye and said, “Hey kid, why don’t you go fuck yourself.” Whoa! That shook the acne right off my face. There was some solace as the Rangers won 4-1 but afterwards I got back on the train heading home with a life lesson in tow courtesy of the late Glenn Hall.

And finally, before reporting to our cruise muster station, we’ve all misplaced our cell phone, haven’t we? Well, a 27-year-old Chinese climber had to be rescued from the top of Mount Fuji by a Japanese search and rescue team. Not learning his lesson and leaving well enough alone, the idiot, I mean climber, went back up top four days later looking for his cellphone. He had to be rescued again. I sure hope he had his car keys.

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

It was February 1982 and I had never heard of Ray Price. A city boy all of my 29 years I had no reason to know who he was or what songs were playing on country music radio stations. In fact, living in Miami at the time, I’m quite sure my dial was always set on WAXY-106 which played the hits from the 60s; I never really graduated from WABC or WMCA from my teen days on Long Island. I think the closest country signal to us was down I-95 across the South Carolina border.

A day or two earlier my boss and mentor from my racetrack management days in South Florida, former Miami mayor Perrine Palmer, told me we would be having dinner with Mr. Price. Okay, who is he? In those prehistoric days we had nothing readily at hand that could provide us with us that type of info. Maybe the new World Book encyclopedia yearbook had a mention? I could call a radio station or newspaper like we’d do for ballgame results that were unobtainable until the next day. It was too early for the revolutionary 1-800-TELL-ME. I could have asked someone, but my country music portfolio of friends was about as empty as the Jets’ Super Bowl trophy case.

Back then we were still 14 years away from getting all our answers from Ask Jeeves, which debuted in 1996. That fine English butler’s website would have told me Ray Price had eleven number one hits. Everything from Crazy Arms in 1956 to She’s Got to Be a Saint in 1973 with City Lights, Heartaches by the Number, For the Good Times, Walkin’ the Floor Over You and half a dozen others sprinkled in-between. His most famous song, Night Life, never reached number one. Decades later I now hear an enjoyable array of Price hits on SiriusXM’s Willie’s Roadhouse on my morning drive to the gym. I switch to Siriusly Sinatra on the way home. I know Willie and Ray would understand.

What I can remember from 44 years ago is that dinner was enjoyable. Mr. Price, a member of the Country Music Hall of Fame who died in 2013 at age 87, was a nice enough gentleman who wanted to learn more about the greyhound racing business as he had an interest in becoming a greyhound owner. However, when the evening was finished and the last drop of Pouilly-Fuisse poured, I still didn’t know much about him.

Strangely, I think about this example often. How did we get by day-to-day with no cell phones, no internet and other than a daily newspaper and nightly TV news, no worldly knowledge? How did we ever get where we were going without GPS? We were in an information vacuum and didn’t know it because everything was fine. That’s the way daily life was. In school we had to pay attention and learn. We had no shortcut crutches other than Cliff Notes or sitting behind the smartest kid in the class and hoping our eyesight was good enough.

Then computers and cell phones happened with Google becoming our search engine of choice in 1998, two years after Jeeves. Wikipedia — our soon to be online Brittanica and World Book, first entered our world in a rather primitive format in 2001. And you know the rest of the story. Forms of Artificial Intelligence actually first appeared back in the 1950s but was used in colleges and universities for research projects on antiquated computers the size of a trendy Chevy Bel Air. In 1997 an IBM computer beat world champion Garry Kasparov in chess. I bet on Kasparov which should be no surprise to anyone. AI hit mainstream about 2010 embedded in search engines and then in 2022 the public release of OpenAI’s ChatGPT= Generative Pre-trained Transformer, was society’s game changer just like Bosco was in the 1920s.

Today things are too easy. Anything we need or want to know we can find with the touch of a finger. Anything we forgot we can find with no cognitive initiative whatsoever. Kids can access just about any information without opening a textbook. Same all through the education process. Is this a good thing? It can be but there is no more heavy lifting and thinking like we had to do back in our day. And history tells us this is just the start of whatever might be coming next.

I ignored ChatGPT until last year. Heard about it but paid it no attention. I use search engines frequently in my writing so I finally gave it a look. Next thing I knew I signed up for the premier plan. Again, everything became too easy and now there are things I want to recall on a daily basis but will stop the immediate leap to research and actually ponder about it. By far that reward is worth the additional time spent thinking. Except for Ray Price songs. I never had a shot at that without AI.

Since AI is so smart I asked it to write today’s Sunday Morning Coffee for me. First here’s what it told me about me. I kinda knew most of this already:

Sunday Morning Coffee is a semi-regular personal newsletter/blog written by Roy Berger, a retired communications professional and longtime writer who shares reflections on life, sports, family, travel, culture, politics, and personal memories. It’s published on his personal site (often via a Substack-style setup) and typically appears on Sunday mornings — hence the name. Berger is a University of Miami graduate, a former journalist and communications professional who after a long career in the pari-mutuel racing industry and running Medjet, returned to writing in retirement. He started Sunday Morning Coffee as a way to share personal experiences and reflections, and it has grown into a regular read for subscribers. Written in an accessible, conversational style that mixes nostalgia (e.g., memories of growing up), commentary on current events, sports history, travel stories, and reflections on everyday life. In short, Sunday Morning Coffee is a personal, reflective newsletter that Roy Berger shares with readers to accompany their Sunday coffee — a slice of life from his perspective.

Okay AI, now that we established me, go ahead and write today’s SMC:

___________________________________

Sunday Morning Coffee

by Roy Berger (in spirit)

Sunday morning arrives quietly. No alarms. No schedules. Just the low hum of the coffee maker doing its dependable work, the same way it has for years. I take the first sip and, as always, wonder how something so simple can feel like such a luxury.

Sunday mornings used to be different. They began earlier, louder, with kids needing rides, newspapers slapped onto driveways, and the sound of a game already playing somewhere in the background. Now the paper is digital, the kids are grown, and the games can wait until later. Time has a way of rearranging priorities without asking permission.

I caught myself this week thinking about how we once waited for things. News came once a day, maybe twice if you watched the evening broadcast. Sports scores were learned from the radio or the next morning’s box score. If you missed a show, you missed it. No rewinding. No streaming. And somehow, we survived just fine.

Patience, it turns out, was not a flaw — it was a skill.

I drove past my old neighborhood recently. Different families, different cars, but the same streets. The corner store is gone, replaced by something modern and forgettable. I tried to remember the owner’s name — the man who knew what you wanted before you said it — but memory doesn’t always cooperate. Funny how we remember the feeling long after the details fade.

Sports still have a way of pulling me back. Not the analytics or the endless debate shows, but the moments: the crack of a bat, the stretch run of a season, the understanding that tomorrow’s game matters because yesterday’s already happened. Athletes change. The games don’t.

This week reminded me how fast the calendar turns. A birthday passed. An anniversary followed. Numbers climb while the mind insists it’s still the same age it was decades ago. Inside, not much has changed. Outside, the mirror argues otherwise.

I’ve learned that growing older isn’t about losing things — it’s about editing. Fewer distractions. Fewer unnecessary conversations. Less noise. More meaning. More appreciation for mornings like this one, when nothing is required except another cup of coffee.

Soon enough, Sunday will become Monday. The world will rush back in, as it always does. But for now, the coffee is still warm, the house is still quiet, and the moment is still mine.

That’s enough for this Sunday morning.

________________________________________________

It’s a bit bland like dry toast; not really my voice, way too pleasant to be written by me and it took about 20 seconds to produce. All in all I’ll give it a barely acceptable grade but a very good effort. Next, as an alternative, I asked AI to write a preview about tomorrow night’s college football national championship between Indiana and the good guys from Miami.

________________________________________

Sunday Morning Coffee

Championship Week

Sunday morning has a certain calm to it, the kind that feels borrowed when you know Monday night is waiting. The coffee is poured, the paper — digital or otherwise — is skimmed, and somewhere in the back of your mind the countdown has already started. Championship games have a way of doing that. They sit quietly in the distance, letting anticipation do most of the work.

Tomorrow night, Miami and Indiana will meet for the College Football Playoff championship. If you’d said that out loud a decade ago, it would have sounded like a trivia question or a scheduling mistake. And yet here we are, proof once again that college football still has room for surprise, even in an era that tries its best to predict everything.

Championship week used to feel simpler. One game, one poll, endless arguments. You didn’t need a bracket or a committee explanation. You needed a strong opinion and a willingness to defend it over coffee on Sunday morning. Now we have playoffs, analytics, and experts explaining why your eyes might be lying to you.

But the truth is, by the time the ball is kicked off Monday night, none of that matters.

Miami arrives with history in tow. Championships remembered by numbers, coaches, and eras that never quite leave the conversation. When a program like that plays for a title, expectations aren’t just present — they’re inherited. Indiana arrives differently. Less baggage. More belief. A season built on proving, week after week, that they belong on this stage.

That contrast is what makes the game compelling. One team carrying the weight of what it’s supposed to be. The other chasing what it has never been.

I find myself thinking about the players more than the predictions. For them, this isn’t legacy or narrative — it’s a few hours under the lights that will define how they remember college football for the rest of their lives. Years from now, long after the score fades, they’ll remember the noise, the nerves, and the moment the realization hits that this is it. No next week. No do-over.

Monday night will give us its usual share of over-analysis. Who wants it more? Who handles pressure better? Which coach makes the mistake that gets talked about all offseason? But championships rarely follow scripts. They turn on one or two moments no one sees coming until it’s too late.

This Sunday morning is for waiting. For remembering why anticipation can be as enjoyable as the event itself. Tomorrow night will come soon enough, bringing celebration for one side and silence for the other.

For now, the coffee is still warm, the opinions are still forming, and the best part of the game — the promise of it — is still ahead.

_________________________________________

The next request I made was where ChatGPT stumbled and stumbled miserably. I asked it to predict the winner of Monday night’s championship and here’s the rubbish it produced: Oddsmakers give Indiana the edge with roughly a 68% chance to win according to ESPN’s analytics. Projecting a final score of Indiana 23, Miami 17.

What? Fake news. Fake predictions. It’s totally fake. Nobody believes it. ChatGPT is a total scam. A fraud. A failing enterprise. It’s a total disaster. Run by very incompetent people. Everyone knows it. I promptly cancelled my premium ChatGPT subscription.

So late Monday night will Ray Price be crooning to Miami fans Heartaches by the Number or For the Good Times?

Smarten up GPT and Go Canes.

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

Happy belated New Year. So, it’s been three weeks. Did you miss us? I probably don’t want the answer. This is our first post of 2026 which means we’ve now been Sunday Morning Coffee’ing for almost nine years. What began as a Facebook whim has turned into something much larger with about 1,800 followers, most from word of mouth as we don’t extend much promotional effort to get subscribers. Which doesn’t mean that referrals are not encouraged. In fact, it’s flattering that so many people pretend to enjoy this, or say they do, this side of Andi and my kids. SMC has been on the expanding Substack platform for about a year joining some 75,000 other authors. Substack monetizes by encouraging its writers to charge an annual subscription of which the host site takes a piece. About 36% of the contributors do charge a fee which results in over five million readers subscribing to one publication or multiple ones. One thing you can count on is that we won’t do that, primarily because who in their right mind would pay for this? Nevertheless, we very much appreciate you taking the journey with us.

Of course, taking us at our word we would never go to paid subscription format, we modeled our guarantee after former UNLV quarterback Anthony Colandrea. Two days before UNLV’s bowl game on December 23 he told the assembled media he would be returning to Vegas next fall for his senior season because “Money is never going to be part of my decision. Money comes; money goes. Just stay to who you are. Stay to your principles. My future is here (at UNLV).” All Rebels fans breathed a sigh of relief. Four days later Colandrea entered the transfer portal. Earlier this week he committed to Nebraska to make more money.

And we’d be remiss if we didn’t thank Medjet for their continued sponsorship support of SMC over the years. Dozens of readers have told us they’ve become Medjet members (medjet.com) for that travel peace of mind the protection program offers.

There’s an old University of Miami victory cheer, dating back to the 1940s, saluting the school’s athletic prowess and ends with ‘Skit skat, how bout that?’ Well, ‘how bout that?’ is what all ‘Canes fans and alum are chanting through the first three weeks of the College Football Playoffs. Miami’s post-season surge is so unexpected despite such a promising start then October losses to Louisville and SMU plummeting our hopes like the Hurricanes did in the polls. The Canes reached as high as number two in the rankings and then after the two losses fell to 18. But then the magic happened again in early November and the winning resumed and hasn’t stopped. Miami was awarded the last spot in the 12-team playoff field over Notre Dame because of the ‘Canes early season win over the Irish. That was justified. Then surprising playoff wins over Texas A&M and Ohio State as underdogs led to a spot in the Fiesta Bowl semifinals on Thursday night against Ole Miss. When the playoffs began, neither side figured to be there. Phoenix’s State Farm Stadium is only a four hour and change ride from our Las Vegas front door so on a whim last Monday, three days before the game, I asked Andi, “Do you want to go?” “Sure,” she said. So, wheels in motion I found two nice seats, a hotel 20 minutes away and most importantly a premier parking spot. My dad taught me never discount a good parking spot. We bought tickets to the Miami Alumni Tailgate Party with thousands of other alums, when did they get so young looking, and their guests. As much fun as the pre-game was the game was even better with a last second ‘Canes 31-27 win and trip back to South Florida on January 19 to play for the national championship against undefeated Indiana. Whether Miami beats the Hoosiers or not, this season with wins over Notre Dame, Florida, Florida State, Texas A&M and the bullies from Ohio State hasn’t been a good season, but a great one. Skit skat, how bout that?

I don’t care how much money she makes but kudos to Taylor Swift for her benevolence. In appreciation of her father’s successful quintuple bypass surgery last year, Ms. Swift donated $1 million to the American Heart Association. Every one of us who is a member of the zipper club owes her and every other AHA contributor a debt of gratitude.

The music got quiet last night with the passing of legendary Bob Weir. Weir was a founding member, vocalist and rhythm guitarist of the Grateful Dead since they formed in 1965. The group disbanded in 1995 but Weir played on and for the last ten years was forefront in Dead & Company, a reclamation band of sorts, performing Grateful Dead covers and still touring. Bob Weir was 78.

There’s not much royalty left from the glory days of baseball. Probably only one. Happy 90th birthday to Sandy Koufax who pitched his whole career, 1955-66, for the Dodgers in both Brooklyn and LA. For those of us old enough to have watched the left-handed pitcher, he was magical. Consider that he threw 137 complete games in 314 starts. Incredible. Koufax retired early, at age 30, with three Cy Young Awards and four World Championship rings, two of which he was the Series MVP. At age 36, in 1972, he was the youngest player ever inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. Over the years he has become a recluse of sorts, with few public appearances. However, his persona is such, much like a grade school principal, when he walks into a room all conversation ceases out of respect. Mr. Koufax is probably the last of the royal class of the game whom we never really got to know because media then, compared to today’s free-for-all, was minimal. Watching Sandy Koufax on the mound was something else.

What a miserable NFL season. For me, anyway. The two sides I pull for— a lifetime New York Jets fan and now the hometown Las Vegas Raiders— cashed a daily double that’s rather hard to do. The two worst teams in the league: they will have the first and second selections in April’s college draft. The Raiders are on the clock which in past years has produced very little.

Bears 23, Jets 0. Chicago led the NFL in interceptions this season with 23. The nothing part is pretty self-explanatory. The Jets didn’t have one pick, not a single one, the lowest mark since 1933 when the stat was first recorded. That’s bad.

Closer to home maybe this is the answer: with a self-acclaimed W in the win column after last weekend’s Venezuelan invasion maybe the Trump administration can also plan a late-night attack and overthrow the Jets’ front office in East Rutherford, New Jersey.

Guess who’s paying for this? When the 2026 NFL season kicks off in September, the Raiders will have five head coaches on the payroll. The yet to be chosen new guy will join former field bosses Pete Carroll, Josh McDaniels, Antonio Pierce and Jon Gruden, collectively owed $44 million, in getting a check from owner Mark Davis. Season ticket holders can expect to see an increase next renewal to pay the freight for another totally inept organization.

Not much meat left on the bone. The restaurant business has always been rough to make a go with but with rising prices and labor costs it’s gotten that much tougher. Consider downtown Chicago’s upscale steakhouse Kindling. The Wall Street Journal tells us that for a party of four, dinner check of about $500, after the house expenses of $190 for food and alcohol; $175 of labor and $110 for rent, insurance and other fixed costs, the establishment takes the remaining $25 to the cookie jar.

Speaking of which, back in November 16th’s Scramble we mentioned that, to my surprise anyway, the top grossing restaurant in Las Vegas is the Top of the World Steakhouse at the Strat. Never would have guessed that one. Neither did Stefanie Tuzman, the very accomplished President/CEO of the non-profit Jewish advocacy and community organization Jewish Nevada. She sent me a text and said, “I can’t believe that place is still open….let’s go!” So along with husband Jon, an exec at MGM Resorts, and Andi, we did last Saturday night. First when making the reservation you have the option of paying upfront $27 each, $108 for our party, to guarantee a window seat. That is non-refundable whether you cancel or not. The Strat is a combat zone; park and wander around the property at your own risk but go 107 floors above and it’s a game changer. Top of the Strat is a very classy, impressive venue. The seating cover charge gave us window seats 800 feet high, or 200 feet higher than the Seattle Space Needle. A great panoramic view of the entire Las Vegas Valley. The dining tier rotates, every 80 minutes it brings you back to your original view, which for us was the Sphere and Fontainebleau Hotel. Then every 15 or so minutes there is a dessert cart also on a mechanical track, that comes by with suggestions for afterwards. We actually made about a revolution and a half in a couple of hours of dining. It was fun, a lot of laughs with the ever-changing landscape view, the food was good, and the prices by Vegas standards were not unreasonable. We passed on the dessert cart; we’d seen too much of it already. I didn’t expect much going in but now, surprisingly, I’d do it again.

The night before we spun around at dinner Andi and I went to see John Fogerty at Planet Hollywood. We saw him previously in late 2019, before the world shut down, and then, by far, he was one of our favorite shows. Fogerty’s song catalogue, from both his days as the Creedence Clearwater Revival lead and then a solo career, takes a back seat to almost none save for the Beatles. From Fortunate Son to Proud Mary to Down on the Corner to Green River to Lookin’ Out My Back Door to Who’ll Stop the Rain to Rock and Roll Girls to Centerfield to, well you get the idea. Fogerty is 80, his sons Shane and Tyler on guitars now front with him and the memories are long and wonderful. However, his voice has become shrill since we saw him last and some of the tunes either were shortened or became a jam session to help his energy through the ninety-minute show. After all, how many 80+ year old artists can still do it the way they used to and their name isn’t McCartney?

Make up your mind: back in July the Big Ten Conference, with no traditional midwestern territorial boundaries anymore, held their annual football media days in Las Vegas. For some reason Nebraska head coach Matt Rhule wasn’t particularly enamored and made the mistake of telling the assembled media at Mandalay Bay “I’ll be honest, I don’t think college sports should be in Las Vegas.” Actually Coach, there is no venue like Vegas for a major event. Then guess what happened? Nebraska, with a 7-5 season, was selected to play in the December 31 Las Vegas Bowl. Oops. Rhule changed his tune in a hurry. He had dinner at Park MGM’s Bavette’s and called it one of the best meals of his life. UNLV head coach Dan Mullen took him to see Kenny Chesney at the Sphere and he couldn’t stop raving about it. Rhule’s wife got him tickets to see the Backstreet Boys also at his new favorite venue- the Sphere- and boy was that over the top. The Las Vegas Bowl committee treated Rhule and his team like royalty during bowl week. The coach reveled in all of it. He told the Las Vegas Review Journal, “Las Vegas is hospitality and tourism done right. It’s sports done right. We have kids from all over the country and to be able to bring them here and have this experience is just unbelievable. It’s really, really cool.” Except for one thing. Utah smacked Nebraska 44-22 in the bowl game. No word from Coach Rhule on whether he’s still waving his Vegas pompoms but he did go home with a souvenir—signing former UNLV quarterback Colandrea. And next year’s CFP championship game is right here at Allegiant Stadium. We rather doubt Rhule would be disappointed to come back for that one.

Who needs Realtor.com? This from Sports Illustrated—Back in October when Pittsburgh played Green Bay, Steelers quarterback Aaron Rogers, a long time former Packer, while scrambling to avoid newly acquired Packers defensive end Micah Parsons, asked his pursuer if he’d be interested in buying the house he still owned in Green Bay.

Speaking of Pittsburgh, another one bites the dust. After serving the Steel City for 240 years, even older than Aaron Rogers, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette announced it will cease publication this spring. The inaugural edition rolled off the press on July 29, 1786, making it the first newspaper published west of the Allegheny Mountains. The final edition will hit the newsstand on May 3. The sad decline of the industry marches on.

And finally, many of you have probably seen this already. Even if you have, but especially if you haven’t, invest three minutes in the link below (after clicking skip on the promo~) and watch 104-year-old, WWII veteran Dominick Critelli with his ode to America prior to the New York Islanders hockey game on December 27. Then I dare you to tell me your knees didn’t get a bit wobbly:

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

Here’s to a year of good health, happiness, peace and Sunday mornings. Thanks for following us and may 2026 be the best yet!

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

Good morning. Today we Scramble from London, our last day in what has been a wonderful week coming over to see the kids to celebrate Chanukkah and Andi’s birthday on Friday. Best gift we could get her (and me) was time with granddaughter Harley, almost five months old. She turns a dreary London winter day into sunshine.

You call it potato and I call it patatoe. Same goes for tomatoes. So why do some write Hanukkah with an ‘H’ and others Chanukkah with a ‘C’? Then some use a ‘kk’ in the word or others just a ‘k.’ It’s all actually in the Hebrew to English transliteration and no difference at all. The ‘Ch’ spelling is a guttural sound that doesn’t exist in English, unless you are clearing your throat—this version is most common in academia, Israeli or traditional Jewish content. The ‘H’ is simpler and easier for English speakers and most widely used in media, calendars and greeting cards. As long as you give us Hanukkah/Chanukkah gelt, pick the spelling you like.

I’m sure I’m not alone having a really difficult time processing the Rob and Michele Reiner murders. We have become so callous to so much, but this just doesn’t make any sense to me. Rob Reiner has been in our lives for well over half a century since his Mike Stivic role in All in the Family dating back to 1971. Reiner’s career is well documented; his success in film as an actor, writer, director, and producer easily worthy of his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. But for all his successes he never won an Oscar. He was nominated twice as a producer—A Few Good Men and The American President. He once said, “Alfred Hitchcock never won an Oscar, so I’m in pretty good company.” Again, extraordinarily tragic.

Going to spend a weekend with Bernie? At the Malaga, Spain, airport last week an 89-year-old woman with a ticket to London was placed into a wheelchair by five family members and wheeled on to an airplane. Questioned about her health by gate personnel relatives claimed she was “just tired.” The woman was taken to the back of the aircraft, placed in her seat, and shortly afterward the plane started taxiing for departure. The cabin crew and some fellow passengers weren’t buying the “just tired” line. The easyJet airplane returned to the gate, emergency services were called and the woman was pronounced dead in her seat. At least she was spared the inflight meal.

The last two times we saw former Michigan head football coach Sherrone Moore was with police escorts. On November 29, walking to midfield to shake hands with Ohio State head coach Ryan Day after Ohio State’s win, Moore, 39, had two Michigan state troopers by his side, a courtesy extended to all major college football coaches. The next time we saw him, less than two weeks later on December 12, Moore was also escorted by two officers but this time on a perp walk to be arraigned on a felony charge of home invasion and two misdemeanors—stalking and breaking and entering.

How’s this for a little federal government mismanagement? Amtrak, owned by the feds, lost $1.76 billion in the fiscal year ending September 30, 2025. To show appreciation for the fine balance sheet, Amtrak rewarded its employees with $32 million in bonuses.

Baseball season concluded a couple of months ago with a great World Series. Television ratings were sky high. Now as we enter the offseason, the so-called hot stove league, where fans fantasize about next year for their favorite teams, you can pass three hours of the darkness by watching Alex vs. A-Rod, streaming on HBO Max. Alex Rodriguez fits the Seinfeld profile of ‘two-faced.’ A terrific on the field talent was an incredible enigma off the field. Best summed up by New York sportscaster Mike Francessa who said during the three-part documentary Rodriguez was “An incredible baseball player but a very flawed individual.” Love or loathe him, love the Yankees or not, it’s worth the watch. So is the 30 For 30 streaming on ESPN platforms about the late Stuart Scott.

And while we’re at it, if you haven’t watched The Beast in Me on Netflix, do. It was that good. One season, eight episodes starring Claire Danes of Homeland who is just as frenetic in this as she was playing Carrie Mathison. Matthew Rhys plays the bad guy to perfection and any show that features Jonathan Banks in it, Mike from Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul, is on my list.

Maybe it’s just me but every time I get an automatic upgrade to my iPhone I long for my old BlackBerry.

If you are a gym regular or hang out at the beach, you’ll notice the propensity of people sporting tattoos. In fact, 32% of Americans have inscripted art.

The 1970s was such an influential period for so many boomers. The top song of the decade? It was Debby Boone’s You Light Up My Life which remained number one on the Billboard 100 for ten weeks in 1977.

The last time Phillip Rivers, 44, threw a pass in the NFL was five years ago for the Colts before ending a 16-year career. Fifteen of those were in a Chargers’ uniform. Some 1800 days later, after working as a high school football coach in Alabama, old man Rivers suited up again last Sunday for Indianapolis as its starting QB illustrating just how empty the secondary tank of NFL quarterbacks is. Rivers, who hadn’t missed many all-you-can-eat buffets since being away from the game, respectfully acquitted himself by throwing for 120 yards and a touchdown in Indy’s two-point loss to Seattle. Even with the extra weight, Rivers was just as much a running threat as he was years ago, scrambling for minus five yards. The good news for the fourth overall selection in 2004 from NC State is by playing one game in the NFL he doesn’t have to worry about Obamacare and now gets an additional five years of league sponsored family health insurance coverage. However, by playing that one game he now falls off this year’s Hall of Fame ballot and needs to wait another five years, or when the health insurance expires, for consideration.

Calling Alabama a conservative red state is a big understatement. It’s the only jurisdiction in the Bible Belt without a state lottery. Surprisingly, Alabama has just taken the extremely unlikely step of approving licenses to operate medical marijuana dispensaries; something that has been on the books since 2021 but not acted upon until now. Make your doctor’s appointments as soon as you can.

And speaking of doctors, I hate when this happens: Dr. Vivek Vatikutti, a surgeon outside of London, was suspended from practice for nine months for being drunk while on duty. He admitted to drinking three-quarters of a bottle of vodka to ease stress. Assuming the stress wasn’t that bad or he would have finished the bottle.

The 12-team College Football Playoff begin this weekend with Miami and Alabama, both slight underdogs, winning proving they belonged. Who didn’t belong were the automatic qualifiers, Tulane and James Madison, losing to Ole Miss and Oregon by a combined 48 points. There’s no room in a 12-team event for auto qualifiers. Put the best dozen on the field and let them slug it out. Under the present format Notre Dame and BYU sat on the sidelines while Tulane and JMU got in through the back door. Interestingly, before the games started a Vegas odds-maker said Notre Dame would have been favored over every team in the field except for Ohio State. A format revision is needed.

And speaking of the Irish I would have lost this bet: Last Saturday when Notre Dame running back Jeremiah Love finished a distant third in the Heisman Trophy voting to Indiana’s Fernando Mendoza, I fully expected Notre Dame to announce their players will no longer participate in the Heisman Trophy process. There’s still time.

As a young kid I was a big New York Knicks fan right through the time I left to go to college in 1970. I went to the Garden often to see the Knicks and Rangers. The highlight was the great 1969-70 playoff run that culminated with the Knicks beating the Lakers in the championship round. But only one other NBA title after that, in 1973. If you are keeping score that’s 52 years, 23 head coaches and over 400 players ago. Since ‘70 I’ve seen a handful or two Knicks games live but last weekend the Knicks were in Vegas playing in a designed for television mid-season competition called the NBA Cup. I dialed up fellow New Yorker Peter Cox, who was a big shot trader on Wall Street back in the day and said we need to go. Glad we did. Reed, Bradley, Frazier, and the old crew are no longer in uniform, but some guys named Towns, Brunson and Hart are and these guys can play. The game is so much more physical and faster than it was back when the guys wore really short shorts. However, the most visible change was on the bench. Rosters in the ‘70s were ten players; now they are 13 but that wasn’t the attention grabber. Each team, the Knicks and the Magic, had 12 coaches seated on two rows of team benches. When the Knicks won in 1970 there were two non-players on the bench: Red Holtzman wasn’t called the head coach because he was the only coach; he sat alongside trainer Danny Whelan who moonlighted in the offseason in the same role for the Pittsburgh Pirates. The Knicks did win the NBA Cup tournament beating Orlando and San Antonio. A nice payday came with it worth half a million to each player. It may not be the trophy we ultimately all want, there’s no parade, but maybe it’s a start as the Knicks will be a factor in this season’s playoffs. However, not so fast. This is the third iteration of the NBA Cup. The first two winners, the Lakers and Bucks, were eliminated in the opening round of the postseason.

I know there’s no crying in baseball but after watching the Knicks and Magic I’m also convinced there’s no walking violations in the NBA.

A lost art: nattily attired basketball coaches both pro and college. Thanks to UCLA’s Mick Cronin and his staff for keeping the classy suit and tie look burning.

When you’ve been a Jets fan long enough you never look at the NFL standings from the top down; it’s always from the bottom up. And in our quest to draft the next superstar college quarterback who will probably be either out of the game or wearing another team’s uniform in three years, the Jets have some losing to do and need help over the final three weeks of the season. Statistically entering today’s game, the Jets have only an 11% chance to get the number one pick in April’s draft. The Giants and Titans are tied with an 18% chance while the Raiders are at 41% chance to grab Fernando Mendoza to be their savior. All Las Vegas needs to do is lose their last three. At 2-11 odds are in their favor. Circle next Sunday, December 28, that’s the big one when the Raiders and Giants meet with the number one pick on the line. The Giants will open as a field goal favorite. There’s no over/under total published yet but this one should be about 6.5 points.

And before we leave the Raiders, and there are a lot of people in this city who hope they do leave, last Sunday the Raiders chalked up 75 yards of total offense in their loss to the Eagles. Yep, 75 yards. Spelled seventy-five. The least amount in any NFL game this season, taking the Jets and their 82 against Denver off the hook. Meanwhile, a couple of thousand miles to the East there was offense of a totally different sort. Ty Cummings, a running back at West Laurens High School in Dublin, Georgia, rushed for a state record of 615 yards on 19 carries and eight touchdowns—each touchdown on runs of 53 yards or longer in West Laurens’ 70-55 win over Baldwin High. Cummings, a senior, has committed to play at Georgia Southern next year. He won’t be there long.

With the rule changes, NFL kickoffs are once again in vogue and if you think five yards doesn’t matter consider this: when teams start a drive on their own 30-yard line, they score a touchdown or field goal 37% of the time. Start on your own 35 and that jumps to 45%.

Finally, it was a week ago when the trifecta of terrible news flashed across our phones. The shooting at Brown University, the targeted massacre in Australia and the aforementioned Reiner family tragedy. What’s going on here? I’d like to say it can’t get any worse, but it can and sadly it will. There is far more good than evil in our world but evil sells and gets the headlines. The attack on Jews at Sydney’s Bondi Beach celebrating Chanukkah was a hate crime of the worst sort—15 innocent, fun loving people dead. Jews have become a fashionable target over the past couple of years for doing nothing but protecting their homeland and their soil. In fact, two were arrested in London on Wednesday for terrorist anti-Semitic threats. Judaism is a religion but it’s also a peoplehood strengthening our resolve. We have never been more united. We’re not looking for trouble but not willing to turn our backs and walk away from the haters either. Will there ever be peace in the Middle East that translates to the rest of the world? Not in our lifetimes but I can still hold out hope that maybe one day baby Harley and her generation will see a sea-change. So, on this last day of Chanukkah/Hanukkah and with Christmas four days away, let’s savor and enjoy the spirit of the season in spite of tragedy throughout the world. We need a break, we need to smile, we need to appreciate life and each other. Let’s make that our focus this holiday season.

Happy New Year; thanks for letting us into your busy life every week and we’ll see you again on January 11. Shalom.

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

I met Cindy and Chuck for the first time on Monday night. Pleasant folks, early 60’s-ish, living just outside Amarillo, Texas. Probably on a ranch but one of the few things I didn’t ask.

We chatted for the better part of two hours with little in common and the unstated understanding we’d never see each other again. Little in common being the key understatement.

Chuck enjoyed giving me a tutorial about what I was watching. Cindy delighted showing and explaining her gauche jewelry to Andi. My wife feigned interest. About a half hour in, I finally got to use a line literally that I’ve probably used a hundred times in my 73 years as nothing more than a throw-away expression.

I turned to Chuck and asked, “Do you think this is my first rodeo?”

We were seatmates and they had every right to think we were nothing but a couple of old hayseeds. They were dressed to the nines. Comparatively, we to the ones, more a reflection of me than Andi.

What does a Jewish kid born in the Bronx wear to a rodeo? The simple answer is nothing that I own. Or come to think of it, ever did.

Oh, Chuck and Cindy had it all. The cowboy and cowgirl hats. These weren’t conventional 10-gallon Stetsons either. These were big, maybe 12-gallon if there’s such a thing. So big that the tickets for the seats behind them were marked ‘obstructed view.’ Of course the cowboy sport jacket for Chuck; the trendy faux-fur for Cindy. The jeans need to be faded and the boots neatly shined with a little bit of recent scuff. They easily could have been cast as extras in Landman. Andi gave it a go—denim shirt, jeans fashionably faded with a trendy tear or two and a pair of evening boots not particularly rodeo trendy. Me? Totally void. At no point last Monday did I consider an emergency trip to Boot Barn, Sheplers or the Wrangler Store. I am a do with what you have kind of guy, so I went with it: jeans more worthy of biz casual than rodeo dirt; no boots, but Nike black sneakers with a UNLV basketball logo signifying being in the home arena of the Rebels; a stylish black cap with a faint imprint of Fulham from the English Premier Football League. However, I did decide to go Wild West with the best I could find: my Vegas Golden Knights pullover— the Knights play in the Western Conference of the National Hockey League. That’s my only alternative to western wear.

Yes, it’s rodeo fortnight in Las Vegas. The first two weeks every December. The NFR— National Finals Rodeo—hits town and turns a dead period upside down. It’s the Super Bowl/World Series of rodeo and every cowboy, cowgirl and all the wannabes are welcomed here. There’s $17 million of prize money up for grabs. Decades ago what had been a quiet time between Thanksgiving and New Year’s in town is now very much alive. And bucking. Forty years ago, in 1985, Vegas legends Benny Binion and Michael Gaughan partnered with Las Vegas tourism officials convincing the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association (PRCA) to move their marquis event from Oklahoma City to Vegas. Nobody other than the OKC Chamber has looked back since.

Las Vegas had the rooms and the venue to accommodate what PRCA hoped would be appeal to the masses. In 1983 the Thomas & Mack Center, named after two local bankers who provided the land and initial funding, opened with Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Diana Ross on stage. It was built on the UNLV campus to be the home of Runnin’ Rebels basketball and its colorful head coach Jerry Tarkanian. On December 30, 1983, exactly two weeks after the grand opening, the Rebels played their first game in the 18,000+ seat arena against Georgetown with nary an empty seat to be found. It was that way until Tark left in 1992 with a UNLV won-loss record of 509-105 and a 1990 National Championship.

Rodeo officials, upon landing the deal in Vegas, salivated which actually they do anyway after a mouthful of chew. Las Vegas became the natural destination for their showcase event. It premiered on December 7, 1985, and has been here in the same space ever since. The foresight of both Vegas and rodeo officials was rewarded: two years later, in 1987, began a streak of sellouts that now has reached 385 nights in a row including last night’s finale. Rodeo tickets are tougher to find than the late Danny Gans duckets were back in the day. NFR is the longest-running sold-out event in the history of Las Vegas. Thirty-eight straight years. That’s 18,000 on hand sporting about 17,000 pairs of spats every night. It’s good to be StubHub or just an old fashioned scalper out front.

When you do some quick math ten sold-out rodeo event nights is 180,000 fans every December. Now double or triple that number. Rodeo management estimates two to three times more rodeo fans in town without tickets than those who have. Some 200,000 additional will come to Vegas with no intention whatsoever of going to the Thomas & Mack. They are here for something called Cowboy Christmas hosted at the Las Vegas Convention Center, a shopping mecca for every cowboy and girl. Plus Cowboy Christmas has spread to other hotel properties—there’s no shortage of anything a rodeo fan might want under the tree with the exception of a good Chanukah gift for tonight.

The annual economic impact to Vegas from the fortnight of rodeo activity is about $200 million not including resort fees or ATM surcharges. Those who don’t attend the event have watch parties all over the Strip, broadcast live each night, on something called the Cowboy Channel, which I assume is part of your cable sports package. Pro Fantasy Rodeo is huge. Not kidding. If you can land Stetson Wright as your first draft pick you just about have it made. Coors Lights for $3 go as fast as a cold run on the craps table. Casino floors are packed. The rodeo starts each night at six, over by eight and then the fun begins— country concerts in lounges and showrooms all over town. The hotels want you and your money. You can see such acts as Kenny Fielder & The Cowboy Killers or Giovannie & The Hired Guns at the Westgate. How about The Red Clay Strays at Virgin? Gilleys at Treasure Island is SRO; the South Point, the official hotel host of NFR and one of the few value properties left for locals in our town, is jammed. South Point during rodeo time hosts the World Series of Team Roping at their equestrian center and packs them like asses on a saddle. It’s a daytime event, 9 am is the first rope and some 130,000 are expected for team roping. It’s like that virtually everywhere. Even down on Fremont Street. Zach Brown is at Sphere while Tug, I mean, Tim McGraw is featured at Caesars; Brad Paisley at Wynn and Wynonna is at The Venetian. Wayne Newton, still at the Flamingo, doesn’t count. If you are looking for some good classic rock while the rodeo is in town, a trip up to Reno is probably the best bet.

As I told my new friend Chuck, who wore a belt buckle larger than my hand, this wasn’t my first rodeo. Not by a long shot. I go way back to the late 1960s in upstate New York while at summer camp. Maybe it was 1967. I was 15. It’s a distant memory but the entire camp, 100 Jewish kids, who didn’t know the difference between a rocking and quarter horse, were at some remote fairground. It was either that summer, or maybe the one before when I had designs on being a rodeo cowboy, something no doubt that would have made my parents proud. I can still hear my mother shriek—you want to be a what?? Horseback riding was part of our regular itinerary at Camp Impala in Woodbourne about 90 miles north of the City. My horse was Peanut. He was as tough as they came to control. Sometimes he would actually get up to full gallop, maybe five or six mph. He was flying. I was terrified. It was all I could do to stay aboard. Evidently my prowess caught the attention of some of my fellow campers. I was nicknamed Bronco. Almost 60 years later I’m still in touch with a few of the fellas. They still call me Bronc. My next rodeo was about 30 years later, 1997ish in Wichita, Kansas. Then three decades passed until Monday night. I fully plan to be back in 2055, another thirty or so.

So, Andi and I bought NFR tickets on StubHub. Not cheap. Sitting upstairs is about $200 a pop and upwards of $500 for the aroma of the lower level. We watched Bareback Riding, Steer Wrestling, Team Roping, Saddle Bronc Riding, Tie-Down Roping and Bull Riding which sure wasn’t like we used to do as kids at Jolly Roger’s amusement park on Long Island when we put a quarter into the bull’s neck. We got to see such rodeo luminaries as Rocker Steiner, Haven Meged, Q Taylor, Lightning Aguilera, Tyler Waguespack and Rowdy Parrott. All three Wright brothers were mainstays in the competition: Statler, Stetson and Ryder. Orville and Wilbur were no-shows. Misnamed is Jayco Roper who disappointingly is not a steer roper but a bareback rider. We enjoyed it, primarily because it was so different for us. We struggled at times with some animal welfare issues, but the highlight of our, or at least my night, was the all-ladies Barrel Racing event— the speed, skill and seemingly the enjoyment the horses had in racing. I would go back again just for that. It didn’t hurt that Kassie Mowry won it. I now have my first cowgirl crush.

We said our goodbyes to Chuck and Cindy. They’re here for all ten nights and may never have a seatmate like me again. At least they can hope they don’t. As the stock was put back up in trailers taking over most of the parking lot, Cindy and Chuck’s evening on our fair town was just beginning. Andi and I were headed for the bedtime finish line. I apologized to them for asking so many questions but qualified it that no matter what they might think it wasn’t my first rodeo. Cindy smirked. Chuck rolled his eyes.

Really, it wasn’t. And that’s no bull.

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

We took a bye last week and hope everyone had a great holiday weekend. Next to Audubon Day, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. By the way thanks for the great response to the November 23 SMC, our annual post about the JFK assassination. Many of you have told me you ordered Zero Fail by Carol Leonnig which we cited.(https://www.royberger.com/p/sunday-morning-coffee-november-23). Meanwhile with the week off the Scramble file has gotten full so let’s go:

Good thing this wasn’t legal when we were teens. The Wall Street Journal reports about a new Thanksgiving trend that’s sweeping the country. It’s called the “Cousin Walk.” According to the Journal, sometime before holiday dinner is served, young adults— siblings, cousins, friends—grab their coats and decide it’s time to walk the dog or pick up some ice or any simple explanation to get out of the house for a few minutes, even if there isn’t a dog. When they return everything becomes amusing. They can’t get enough mashed potatoes and some even come back inside jonesing for cranberry sauce. Smoking that Thanksgiving joint makes all the difference for a festive holiday table. In fact, the legal pot industry refers to the day before Thanksgiving as “Green Wednesday,” the second busiest sales day of the year right behind 420, April 20, the designated cannabis holiday when stoners everywhere light up right at 4:20 in the afternoon. One New York dispensary advertises Green Wednesday as a “mid-holiday break that takes the edge off listening to obnoxious relatives who won’t stop talking.” Everyone has one. My brothers and I still laugh about a great-uncle who unbeknownst to him was our Thanksgiving day amusement. I can’t imagine what it would have been like at our table, and how long we would have been grounded for, if we knew then about the “walk.” It’s probably good we didn’t.

Who knew you could do this? A couple of weeks ago prompted by a recommendation from Linda Phillips one of my morning workout peeps, Andi and I took a tour of our local Amazon fulfillment/distribution facility. It was incredibly enlightening. This particular center in North Las Vegas was massive—455,000 square feet— with 20 million items in stock, 2,400 employees, hundreds of robots moving around the building stocking and placing product on almost 30 miles of conveyers. Honestly, the 90 minute guided tour was overwhelming trying to digest the process. There are 27 facilities in 20 states that offer the free tour. To find one near you for a cold winter day go to Amazontours.com. I’d love to post a picture or two but Jeff Bezos, taking a page from Bruno Mars’ concert book, makes you leave your cell phone behind for fear some schlup on the tour might want to open his own facility.

Here’s a double bogey: The golf business founded by Jack Nicklaus has filed for bankruptcy protection. In 2007 Nicklaus sold a majority interest in his namesake to financier Howard Milstein which included not only the golf course design business but also all intellectual rights. Over the years the relationship between Nicklaus and Milstein soured leading Jack to step away totally in 2022. Earlier this year Nicklaus, 85 (his age; my handicap) sued his former company for defamation. He won a $50 million verdict. A week ago Friday, the Nicklaus Companies dunked one in the water and filed for bankruptcy.

Not even the most versed of music trivia buffs, not even legendary Stump Phil late of Seattle radio, are likely to know this. What rock ‘n roll single of the disc buying era of the 1950s and 60s took the longest and in turn was the most expensive to produce? That stumper belongs to The Beach Boys in 1966 with Good Vibrations. Production started in February and mercifully ended in September. There were a total of 20 recording sessions, in four major LA studios, that took some 90 hours to finish. Production cost was estimated to be $75,000 which adjusted today would be $700,000. The single finally became number one on December 10, 1966, but only stayed there for a week bumped by Winchester Cathedral. And if someone, somehow knew that then you might ask what was on the flip side of Good Vibrations? It was the instrumental Let’s Go Away for A While. It never charted.

I really don’t understand why anyone would feel pinched when they come to Vegas. A week ago we went to lunch at Caesars Palace. Parking for the 90 minutes was $25 or four dollars more than my entree. At the Venetian if you are out of money and use a non-network ATM, the fee to get more cash to donate back to the casino is only $45. And what my Mom would have described as the latest michegoss, Yiddish for craziness or madness, is now trending with popular Vegas restaurants—charging a premium for a table. A few weeks ago we mentioned the top grossing restaurant in town is the Top of the World Steakhouse at the Strat. It’s almost 900 feet above street level and a table on the window for the full panoramic view is only $27 extra per diner. Certainly a bargain when you consider it’s only two bucks more than parking at Caesars. Forty dollars a person gets you a window table at Eiffel Tower Restaurant in Paris Hotel and Casino overlooking the Strip. There’s good news is if you want a table at Prime in Bellagio, with a fountain and Strip view—there’s no need to pay a surcharge. All you have to do is spend a minimum on food and drink of $175, a black and three green chips. That’s per person by the way. I’m afraid the good ole days that my Dad used to brag about of slipping the maitre d’ a $5 bill for a coveted booth in the Sultan’s Table gourmet room has gone the way of the old Dunes Hotel.

And speaking of the old days and the Sultan’s Table at the Dunes, we’ve lived in Las Vegas for just over seven years and never had been to the much acclaimed Neon Museum. We went the Friday night of Thanksgiving weekend. Honestly, we could have waited another seven years. Very disappointing. It’s the graveyard of old classic Las Vegas resort and casino neon signage. The museum is located on a dirt field, north of the Strip on Las Vegas Blvd. To say the area is seedy would be a compliment. It’s beyond that. The display area itself looks like a franchise of Sanford and Son Salvage. Behind the displays, piled high, is junk of remnant signage looking like a forgotten storage closet. Some of the lights worked, others didn’t. For a non-resident it was $35 to walk the grounds. In true Vegas fashion it was another $17 to see a half-hour video which I’m told is the best part of the exhibit. Time constraints prohibited us. The open-air two acre parcel is a non-profit venture between the city of Las Vegas and private donors. A few miles away in downtown Vegas stands the Mob Museum in a beautiful tourist friendly building exactly what the Neon Museum needs. There is so much potential for this attraction but not where it’s located today.

For your next cocktail party conversation lull: Which continent is the only one without traditional hotels?

If you travel more than the average bear, business or leisure, download the new, free Flighty app. Great real time information on flight status, gates, incoming aircraft and just about everything you’ll need to know before you head to the airport. It’s delivered to you well before the airlines get around to it.

You won’t find any SpringHill Suites by Marriott or Hilton Garden Inns on Antarctica. The best you’ll do is pricey tourist camps, only open in their summer between November and February, costing upwards of $40,000 per stay. Waffle bar not included.

This coming Saturday, December 13 will be Dick Van Dyke’s 100th birthday DVD always made me smile Still does.

Not sure why anyone would have suspected this guy: last month in Summerlin, our away-from-the-Strip neck of the Vegas woods, a gentlemen entered the local Rampart Casino from the parking garage wearing a ballistic helmet, blue sunglasses, black face mask and a blue and yellow security jacket. Before anyone had a chance to wish him a happy belated Halloween he went to the cashiers cage, showing an AR-style rifle, demanded money, got it and then left on the same route through the casino back to the parking garage. He jumped on his bicycle and pedaled into the moonlight. He’s still at large but found this method of getting cash much more practical than a $45 ATM fee.

If you don’t follow J-L Cauvin on Facebook (J.L. Cauvin) or Instagram (@jlcauvin) do yourself a favor and jump aboard. His satirical impressions of Mr. Trump are far better than the President himself.

This one is hurts: through the first 12 games of the NFL season there is only one team, which must remain nameless, that doesn’t have an interception this season. That’s an NFL record for futility and still counting.

And speaking of the Jets not only don’t they have a pick this season they have only recovered two fumbles in a dozen games. Their last interception was in the finale last season when safety Ashtyn Davis picked off not one but two passes. Of course, that same Davis now plays for the Dolphins whom the Jets play this afternoon. But today is the day. I feel it. The Jets will get that pick. The New York lads also proved last Sunday you can lose for winning. Nick Folk’s wounded duck field goal at the buzzer gave the Jets a win beating Atlanta 27-24. That’s now three wins for the season moving further behind Tennessee, which with a single victory, is in line for the number one draft choice. The one bright spot this season has been kicker Folk who has made 22 of his 23 field goal tries. Which reminds us of the Jets fan from Long Island who every Sunday goes to a Jets-friendly bar to watch what all Jets fans presume will be the latest disaster. He is accompanied by his pet parrot perched on his right shoulder. After every Jets field goal, on cue, the parrot yelps, “Thank the Lord for our field goal kicker.” Finally the bartender asks him what happens when the Jets score a touchdown? Jets fan replies,” I don’t know, I’ve only had him for three years.”

And before we leave really bad football, we in Las Vegas are forced to watch the Raiders every week. This once proud franchise under the late Al Davis, has been reduced to a punchline by his son Mark, whose only qualification is being a card-carrying member of the lucky sperm club. Since the elder Mr. Davis died in 2011, the Raiders have been through eight head coaches; four in the last five years. Their cumulative record is 91-137; so far this season they are 2-10. It’s even worse when you consider not only do the Raiders have one win less than the Jets, but the season started with such promise and a win over the Patriots on the road. Since then New England has won 10 of their next 11 games while the Raiders have lost 10 of their next 11. It’s so bad, that two weeks ago as Cleveland was running out the clock and taking a knee, the Raiders were penalized for having too many men on the field. And then there’s the old story—this past Thursday I accidentally left two tickets for today’s game against Denver on my car dashboard. By the time I returned someone shattered the windshield and left two more.

The Broncos are one of the surprises of the NFL season with a 10-2 record. They have an interesting streak intact: in all 12 games, at some point during every game, Denver has trailed on the scoreboard. They will be hard pressed to keep that going today against the Raiders.

If you haven’t had enough televised football by now, the in-season Hard Knocks just returned on HBO Max for six weeks with new episodes streaming every Tuesday. The NFL East is the focus this time. Even the Giants get some airtime. It’s always good stuff.

And finally, as the 1973 hit by Stealers Wheel ‘Stuck In The Middle With You’ told us “I got the feeling something ain’t right.” I can’t get the lyrics out of my head because I worry about what’s coming today at noon Eastern/9 am Pacific. It’s an hour before the NFL games kickoff when attention will divert to college football and the announcement of the 12 teams participating in this year’s College Football Playoffs. First, kudos to the great story at Indiana becoming the number one seed. Personally, I have two dogs in the playoff fight — Alabama and Miami — but will try to look at this objectively. Alabama, after living in Birmingham for 20 years, is my adopted team. Andi tells me sometimes during the middle of the night I will yell ‘Roll Tide.’ Miami, from where I possess a diploma, is in my blood. Alabama got shellacked by Georgia yesterday in the SEC championship game prompting the debate should a three loss team advance to a spot in the coveted playoff bracket. My honest answer is no. Alabama had by Bama standards a so-so season, soiled by an early season loss to a bad Florida State team and Saturday’s beatdown by Georgia to finish at 10-3. Will the selection committee reward them for advancing to the SEC championship game and ignore Saturday’s loss? They shouldn’t. The entire process in itself is very imperfect. There’s no criteria boundary for an at-large selection; the rules are kind of made up as the committee subjectively proceeds. Bama with a season win percentage of .769 should stay home. If the Tide is out then Notre Dame and Miami should claim the final two at-large spots. But if the selection committee agrees that Bama is Bama and should be rewarded for making the conference final, no matter how soundly they got beat, then the final spot will come down to debate between Notre Dame and Miami. Each finished 10-2 for a .833 win percentage. Both teams deserve to go ahead of Alabama but there might only be room for one if the Tide is selected. Granted if Notre Dame and Miami played today on a neutral field the Irish would probably be a field goal favorite but that’s not the conversation. They already played. It was back on the last day of August in week one. The Canes won 27-24 as Notre Dame’s comeback ran out of time. In the NFL head to head competition is the first tiebreaker for playoff position no matter what point of the season the teams played. It’s the same in Little League and intramurals. Shouldn’t be any different here. If it does comes down to one of the two, Nick Saban, who knows more college football than even I do, lobbying for Miami on Saturday said, “Miami kicked Notre Dame’s ass. They deserve to go.” Well, they didn’t exactly kick Irish ass but did what needed to be done on the scoreboard. Additionally, the Canes and ND had four common opponents, both teams won them all, but on the scoreboard Miami was more convincing in three of the four. If it does come down to this Miami should be the choice, but a case will be made against them for their two bad mid-season losses as heavy favorites against Louisville and SMU. Win one of those two and there is no debate. I want to be wrong, but if Alabama stays in the field Miami will be left behind and sent to bowl game purgatory in San Antonio, Jacksonville, El Paso or some such place in front of 20,000 empty seats. It’s the brand that matters, the one that sells. Notre Dame is Notre Dame and Miami isn’t. We will find out in a few hours the answer but Bama should be on the outside with three losses and Miami and Notre Dame packing for a playoff game. In other words, “(I’m) trying to make some sense of it all but I can see it makes no sense at all.” Not yet, anyway.

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

We very much appreciate you spending part of your Sunday’s with Sunday Morning Coffee. Wishing everyone a safe and wonderful holiday season. We’ll be back again on December 7th

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

If Sunday Morning Coffee has been a part of your reading portfolio for a while then you know what’s coming today. Depending on how the calendar falls, the third or fourth Sunday of November produces a memory, a haunt, a recollection of the most traumatic weekend of my then 11-year-old life. I’m certain it’s no different for any of the Silent Generation that proceeded us Boomers.

Sixty-two years ago yesterday. November 22, 1963. It wasn’t the day the world stood still because everything moved too fast. However, it was the day that put all of us in a grief stricken tizzy. The unimaginable happened. President John F. Kennedy was killed.

To recollect that day, and in many ways to still be impacted by it, you have to be 70-plus. It’s still all so real to me. In the sixth grade at Meadowbrook Elementary School in East Meadow, New York. It was a Friday afternoon. Mr. Tyler, the stodgy, intimidating principal getting on the school-wide public address telling us President Kennedy had been shot. A half-hour later, 2 pm Eastern, telling us the president was dead. Teachers crying. School dismissed. Getting home and watching the harrowing chase throughout Dallas to capture the suspect but not before Lee Harvey Oswald murdered police officer J.D. Tippit. Watching Walter Cronkite, in tears, give us blow by blow on CBS. Same for Huntley and Brinkley on NBC. Oswald finally in custody captured in a movie theater. Mom was too shaken to cook so we called Chicken Delight to deliver. After all, their slogan was ‘Don’t cook tonight, call Chicken Delight.’ My bowling league canceled. Dad trying to make sense out of all this. Two days later, Sunday November 24, what turned out to be our first look at reality television watching live as Oswald was gunned down by strip club owner and big shot wannabe Jack Ruby who felt he was doing a public service. Or maybe he was part of a larger conspiracy to quiet Oswald. We’ll never know. Everyone’s dead. School canceled on Monday for the national day of mourning declared by new President Lyndon Johnson. JFK Jr. saluting his dad’s casket. To this day, the memory of all of it still looms so telling, so large and so real. I’m certain I’m not the only one.

Younger generations will no doubt say that September 11, 2001, was the most traumatic national tragedy for them. Not to minimize nor disrespect, but it’s not the case for those who remember November 22, 1963. JFK’s administration was dubbed Camelot. As an 11-year-old on Long Island our whole life was Camelot. We didn’t think something of this magnitude could happen. Never thought about it. We survived the Cuban Missile Crisis a couple of years prior and thought that was as dark as it could get in our idyllic youth. Thirty-eight years later, in 2001, the unimaginable of the 1960’s was sadly imaginable in the next century. 9/11 was stunning and shocking. This time the world did stand still but we were hardened by national events since JFK.

For those who remember November 22, 1963, excuse the phrase, nothing will trump it. I became a student of the assassination, not so much a single shooter or conspiracy type of student, but the details of that day always obsessed me. Still does. I can’t read enough about it. When I finally visited Dealy Plaza in Dallas ten years ago, the site of the fatal Oswald rifle shots, my mind’s eye became reality and the whole landscape looked more like a movie studio lot than home to paralyzing history.

Through the years one aspect of the assassination weekend I knew little about was the Secret Service and their role in JFK’s doomed Dallas visit. Could they have prevented it or was it fate? For me that changed when Cody Kondo, with whom I share a granddaughter, recommended I might enjoy Carol Leonnig’s 2021 book Zero Fail. You are probably thinking Cody could have bought the book for me as an early Hanukkah gift, not merely suggest it, and you are right. A conversation is forthcoming.

Ms. Leonnig is a national investigative reporter for The Washington Post. She has been writing about the Secret Service for the better part of the last dozen years bringing to light the secrets, scandals and shortcomings that have plagued the Agency. Zero Fail, a 500-page read, does a deep dive into the Secret Service for every modern day presidential administration from Kennedy through Trump.

Ironically the Secret Service was originally authorized by President Abraham Lincoln on April 14, 1865, the very day Lincoln and the Mrs. went to see Our American Cousin at Ford’s Theater. Good seats too—they had a private box which was perfect for John Wilkes Booth to come calling. A few months later, on July 5, 1865, the Secret Service was officially formed under the auspices of the Department of the Treasury. Their original charge was not to protect the president of the United States but instead to combat counterfeit monies. That changed on September 26, 1901 when President William McKinley, on the fairgrounds in Buffalo, New York, was killed. Following that tragedy, which was the third presidential assassination in 36 years (Lincoln; Garfield in 1881; McKinley) the Secret Service had the added responsibility of protecting the president of the United States. JFK was and still is the only sitting president to be killed in office since.

According to Zero Fail, Kennedy’s killing “shocked (the Secret Service) into reform by its failure to protect the president on that fateful day in Dallas.” The Texas trip was sadly an illustration of how the Agency was not equipped for modern presidential protection missions. They lacked in planning, resources, risk assessment and procedural discipline. Ms. Leonnig writes “Because of the embarrassment and exposure of failure in the Kennedy case, the Secret Service underwent radical transformation into an elite, highly trained unit.”

When JFK assumed office in 1961, the Agency was small. There were only 300 agents spread across field offices in 50 states. Thirty-four of those agents were on presidential detail. President Kennedy was not an easy mission for the Secret Service. Though his popularity grew, threats against him were voluminous mainly because of his Catholicism. The president liked breaking protective ranks to greet and handshake with the public whenever he could. JFK also enjoyed playing a hide and seek game with the agents trying to slip away for some personal time with adult friends who were not necessarily on a favored presidential guest list. By that summer of 1963 agents were worn out trying to keep up with the 46-year-old president’s very ambitious travel and visitation schedule. Plus, any time they might have had at home with the family was seriously compromised by the young, engaging president who was always on the go. Earlier, in the spring of 1963, Secret Service head James Rowley requested a budget allocation to hire 35 additional agents. Congress denied the request. In fact, JFK may have been the driver of that denial as he wanted less agents and more room to mingle and roam. He felt he was being cramped. JFK would sneak away from the White House at night in an unmarked vehicle. The Bureau had no idea where he was for hours. Though the president was likable to the Secret Service his recklessness became a great liability among those hired to protect him.

Even JFK’s own staff was concerned by the president choosing to wander off the reservation at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. According to Zero Fail JFK’s response was, “If anyone is crazy enough to want to kill a president of the United States, he can do it,” Kennedy said and added, “All he must do is be prepared to give his life for the president’s.” Foreboding.

The fall of 1963 was when Kennedy’s 1964 reelection campaign got started in earnest. While the South was not friendly to the Democratic president his staff saw winning Florida and Texas as the key to reelection. The Republicans probably had nobody capable of beating him. Nonetheless JFK wanted to get on the road prior to the end of the year, shake hands and eat rubber chicken at fundraisers.

On November 18, 1963, the Secret Service was on high alert when the president visited Miami. Kennedy and his integration platform was not a favorite of segregationists. An increased Service presence accompanied JFK that day due to rumors the Ku Klux Klan had intended to kill him. Joseph Milteer was a wealthy organizer of white supremacy groups in Miami. When Milteer was told about increased protection for the president his flip response to an unbeknownst undercover agent was, “The more bodyguards he has, the easier it will be to get him.” When questioned Milteer allegedly said, “(We’ll get him) from an office building with a high powered rifle.” The Service didn’t have the manpower to check every potential location for an assassin. Fortunately, nothing happened that day. Five days later was a much different story.

While Texas wasn’t friendly to the administration they were eased somewhat by former Texas Senator Lyndon Johnson serving as VP. However, Dallas was another story. While by and large the city did not like JFK it didn’t stop his supporters from planning an overwhelming reception on November 22. Strategically, Jackie Kennedy accompanied her husband and wowed everyone.

On November 21, the day before, the Secret Service presidential entourage flew from Washington to San Antonio, Houston and Fort Worth for campaign appearances and banquets. Finally at 11:45 pm the day ended at a hotel in Fort Worth preparing for a busy day in neighboring Dallas on Friday.

The ambitious November travel schedule resulted in a very junior Secret Service crew in Texas. Eleven veteran agents were not on the trip. One that went had just finished his first week on the presidential detail; some were out of regular strategic positioning and were covering for more senior experienced agents who stayed behind. Only two of the agents had been traveling with the president for more than a year. Fingers were crossed everywhere.

The agents were exhausted at day’s end in Fort Worth. They hadn’t eaten in over 12 hours and by the time JFK was finished shaking hands outside the hotel it was well past midnight. Some agents had been on-duty for 23 hours. Others never made it to their rooms until daylight. They got word the Fort Worth Press Club was serving snacks and drinks to the traveling press. Nine of them decided to go upon a reporter’s suggestion. By the time they got to the Press Club the sandwiches were gone but the liquor wasn’t. Sometime after 1 am the Press Club closed and the entourage went to a place called the Cellar which author Leonnig called “a legendary and slightly scandalous nightspot.” All nine agents at the Press Club went along and were accompanied by some journalists, most notably Bob Schieffer, who was a rookie with CBS. Four of the nine agents were scheduled for JFK detail the next day. Night turned into morning quickly. Some of the agents headed back to the hotel just before 3 am. One in particular enjoyed the conversation of a new lady friend until 5 am. Interestingly, according to Ms. Leonnig, Secret Service regulations prohibited White House detail agents from drinking intoxicating liquor of any kind on the road. Nobody paid any attention to it.

Short on sleep, the agents did make it to the lobby and their posts at eight am. After a breakfast reception in Fort Worth the entire Kennedy entourage then made the thirteen-minute flight to Dallas. It was only 35 miles but they flew instead of driving scripting it to be a great photo op of the large and adoring crowd awaiting the Kennedy’s airplane arrival at Dallas’ Love Field.

Morning Fort Worth rain turned into 70 degree afternoon sunshine in Dallas. For the motorcade trip from the airport to downtown Dallas where JFK was scheduled to speak at a luncheon, the president wanted the roof of the presidential limousine to be open and also requested the two agents who normally post on the limo, one on the running board next to the president and one on the rear closest to the First Lady, to not assume those posts for this drive through town. The president wanted the crowds to be able to see him and Jackie without any obstruction. When the Service reluctantly agreed, nobody thought this would also give a clear shot to a potential assailant on the sixth floor of an office building.

When the first shot was fired the limo driver, Secret Service agent Bill Greer, thought perhaps a motorcycle had backfired. Instead of speeding up, reflexively he took his foot off the pedal, slowing the car resulting in Oswald having a much clearer target for the second and third fatal rifle shots. It can be argued those shots could have been deflected from the president had the agents been stationed on the car as protocol.

Less than thirty minutes after the first shot, President Kennedy was declared dead at Dallas’ Parkland Memorial Hospital. Author Leonnig writes that two weeks afterwards, “Mrs. Kennedy complained to her personal secretary that some agents that day seemed ill prepared for precisely the kind of danger they should have been trained to tackle.”

A week after JFK died, and the initial shock to the country had tempered a bit, fingers started to be pointed at the Secret Service. It was common knowledge to insiders how short staffed the department had been. On November 30, 1963, a stir was caused when well-known Washington DC syndicated columnist Drew Pearson got a tip that JFK’s Secret Service agents had been out drinking the night before the assassination.

Pearson wrote in his Merry-Go-Round column, “Some Secret Service men charged with protecting the President were in the Fort Worth Press Club in the early morning of the day Kennedy was shot. Some of them remaining until 3 am. They were drinking. When they (finally) departed, three were reportedly en route to an all-night beatnik rendezvous called The Cellar.” (Beatnik? Haven’t heard that descriptor since the Maynard G. Krebs days.)

The nation had a black eye. The city of Dallas had a pall over it that lasted for decades. And now the Secret Service whose one job on this trip was to protect the president was rightfully taken to task. Nobody will ever know if more agents on the ground in Dallas or a senior team on assignment or an early bedtime would have ultimately made a difference saving the president’s life.

Finally, two years later in 1965 despite President Lyndon Johnson’s opposition, the Secret Service Agency Chief James Rowley led a fierce and successful lobbying campaign with the House Appropriations Committee to fund 200 additional agents and a training facility. Johnson had opposed any additional budget monies as he ran on a platform to shrink government spending. Fortunately he couldn’t overcome common sense and practicality.

Larry Newman, who served on JFK’s Secret Service detail, said after appropriations passed the spending bill, “We got a new training center, we got new agents. Unfortunately we had to lose a president for Congress to wake up and give us what we needed to protect him.”

Kennedy’s assassination was the first, and fortunately, still the only time a president of the United States was killed under Secret Service protection established in 1901 after the aforementioned President McKinley was killed. Sometimes you have to pay a price to get it right. The Service has been lauded for the way it reacted to the attack on President Reagan in 1981, saving his life.

For me, every year at this time the memory and real life pictures of what happened sixty-two years ago returns. Sadly, in the mainstream media of today the history of November 22 is hardly even worth a mention anymore; sometimes you might find it as a news footnote or as a stray Facebook post. Sometimes. But I dare to say anyone who experienced it will never forget it. Carol Leonnig’s marvelous book chapter brought it back to life once again.

Miraculously, JFK’s assassination is the only one senior Americans have experienced. The bulk of our populace never has lived through this kind of national tragedy. That is a very good thing.

Once in a lifetime is more than enough.

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

Good morning. Some great news. I have thrown away all my indica gummies and melatonin. Now that former baseball player Darryl Strawberry has received a presidential pardon for tax evasion and drug charges I finally can sleep peacefully at night.

You probably missed it and can’t blame you if you did but the Olympics were held last Monday night here in Vegas. Olympics? Yep — the best of the best of 10 Vegas hotels squared off in the Housekeeping Olympics at Mandalay Bay’s Michelob Ultra Arena. If you went to the sportsbook and laid a C-note on the staff of Bellagio to win the Bed Making Competition oh so sorry, but the team from Resorts World won the gold by a pillow case. The Cosmopolitan took third. However, the favorite did prevail in the Vacuum Race as the combined team from neighboring ARIA/Vdara resorts swept to the gold over host Mandalay Bay, who teamed with the fine folks at Luxor. Mandalay Bay/Luxor rebounded and fittingly mopped the floor over ARIA/Vdara and the Cosmo in the Mop Relay. However, the ARIA/Vdara team literally cleaned up as the overall Housekeeping Olympics champion with Resorts World settling for the bronze. Over the next year all teams will sharpen their craft on their respective guest rooms and return in 2026 for what will be the 36th year of this insanity.

Vegas Hospitality workers, and the Nevada coffers, are sobered by news that room tax receipts based upon visitation for the third quarter ending on September 30 were down 14% or $25 million from the same period a year ago.

Where’s the beef? Probably among Wendy’s stockholders. The burger chain announced plans to close hundreds of their 6,000 restaurants over the next few months in an attempt to boost profits for the 55-year-old rapidly outdated chain. This is on top of the 240 closed last year. So far, not so good. Wendy’s shares dropped four percent over the past week and 21% ytd.

Away from fast food joints, Restaurant Business Magazine has released its rankings of top dining choices in the United States for 2024. By sales, the top two independent restaurants are on Miami Beach within a mile of each other — Joe’s Stone Crab with $49.4 in gross sales, followed closely by MILA, a fusion of Japanese-Mediterranean at $49.1 million. To be classified as an independent the restaurant must have no more than five locations across the country. The most expensive dining spot in the country is Eleven Madison Park in NYC with, ready for this, a mind boggling $750 per check average, slightly more than a Dave’s Single and Frosty at Wendy’s. According to the Las Vegas Review-Journal, the busiest restaurant by gross sales in this town is one I’ve never given any thought to—Top of the World Steakhouse at The Strat with almost $26 million in sales.

A tale of two NBA teams going in opposite directions: Defending champion Oklahoma City, picking up from where they left off in last June’s title run, have started the ‘25-‘26 season 13-1. Indiana, who lost to OKC in Game 7 of last seasons NBA Finals, are 1-12.

Good to have season three of Tulsa King back on Paramount. Stallone is terrific as Dwight Manfredi and even better when you consider he’s 79. Also returning on Paramount is season two of Landman with Billy Bob Thornton that begins tonight. Both shows were created by Taylor Sheridan and keeps you coming back for more. The one I really want to like is The Morning Show, back for a fourth season on Apple. Jennifer Aniston is terrific, but the show has so many characters that you need an old fashioned program to figure out who’s who and that still might not be enough.

Here are some income tax stats provided by the IRS: the top 1% of U.S. earners pay nearly 46% of total income tax collected; the top 10% pay nearly 76% and the bottom 50% pay less than 3% of the total. For years I have been in favor of a flat tax. We pay a flat tax, no matter income levels, on all goods and services we purchase. Should be that way for income tax too.

Too much time on my hands: Why are Kenyan marathon runners so stinkin’ good?

Mason Williams, who composed and performed the great instrumental “Classical Gas” that hit number one on the charts in 1968 was more than a three-time Grammy Award winner. He split his time between music and being the head comedy writer for The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour on CBS. Williams, 87, still fiddles with music performing as an ensemble classical guitarist with various symphony orchestras from his home in Eugene, Oregon.

This proves you don’t have to be pretty to be attractive: Monday night’s football game between the shitty Cowboys and even shittier Raiders is the second-most expensive game of the season on the resale market. The Cowboys are 3-5-1; the Raiders 2-7. The average resale ticket price is $687, second only to the Eagles and Cowboys on opening night at $712. Once Dallas fans get to Vegas for Monday night’s game they’ll find the resale tickets they bought to be much more reasonable than the Strip resort fees they are about to pay.

With the NFL season heading down the stretch the Rams are 5-1 favorites to win the Super Bowl, according the Westgate Hotel sportsbook. LA is followed by the Chiefs at 6-1 and the Lions, Seahawks and Eagles at 8-1. The Jets, not mathematically eliminated for another week or two, are 100,000-1. It’s still too low.

Two things the Jets and Giants have in common: they share a stadium in New Jersey and so far this NFL season each team has won only two games. They are both bad. Very bad. Between them their combined record is 4-12. However, the Giants have statistically accomplished something never done before in the NFL. Percentages tell us they easily should be 5-5, not 2-8. Consider these crash and burns: in the fourth quarter of the Dallas game on September 14 the Giants chances of winning were 90%; against Denver on October 19, stats had the Giants 99% to win with only minutes remaining and last Sunday with the Giants leading 20-10 late and driving against Chicago they were forecast at 95% chance to hold the lead. They lost all three. At least with the Jets we know after the opening kickoff there’s no chance, so any hopes we might have had are dashed quickly; we don’t have the ultimate disappointment our big city brethren do.

When you go to a Raiders game in between sacks and interceptions, your mind tends to wander. Did to me two Sunday’s ago. I found myself, for no explainable reason, wondering who invented the whistle? Well, it dates all the way back to 1883 in Birmingham, England, and Joseph Hudson who, like me, also had some time on his hands. Mr. Hudson developed what is now known as the ‘pea whistle’ producing that shrill, attention-grabbing sound. A year later his whistle became the official sound of the London Metropolitan Police. Then he debuted a version for sports at a London soccer match. His company today is known as Acme Whistles, and still dominates the market. Over here we use Hudson’s whistles for all team sports — football, soccer, basketball, hockey, volleyball et al except for one. Baseball needs whistles. Let’s start with a long, shrill sound when a batter is punched out on strikes.

Finally, and I’m not making this up, the more I read about the security breach at the Louvre, it’s really not surprising the robbery happened in broad daylight right under their foie gras. The password for the museum’s security surveillance system was not n2GjK!e3#46 or the like as suggested by computer. Instead the powers that be and internal brainiacs created a custom one: LOUVRE. Not sure how any outsider could have cracked that bit of ingenious.

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

Yeah, yeah I know I wrote in last Sunday’s Scramble this would be a bye week for Sunday Morning Coffee. It was in the last paragraph. Nobody reads SMC that far down. Not Andi, not my kids, not 13-week old granddaughter Harley unless her picture is at the bottom which, of course, it would never be. Not even fellow Miami alum and SMC editor Cathy Dorricott in Philly. She normally takes a knee about a third through.

So what are we doing here this morning? Well, it is kind of a quasi-bye week. In our October 19 SMC Scramble there was a mention of a quick one-day trip I took to Abilene, Kansas. Joe Brancatelli, a longtime friend and colleague, actually read that far. Joe’s sweet spot is the travel industry and business travel in particular. He’s been in the game a long time. Joe is the publisher of the highly regarded JoeSentMe.com website/blog where he doesn’t hesitate to hold airlines and hotels accountable in their quest to try and outsmart the savvy travelers. Every now and again he might even toss the industry a compliment but it’s as rare as a Jets fan’s smile. He is the former executive editor of Frequent Flyer Magazine and has written for Forbes, Fortune, The Washington Post and a slew of other pubs. JoeB is the E.F. Hutton of business travel—when he writes, everyone reads. Though JoeSentMe.com is a weekly Sunday night release, when the industry faces a crisis, like we are in now, Brancatelli updates his subscribers almost daily.

Every now and again I’ll write something in SMC that he reprints on his site. When I mentioned Abilene in the Scramble paragraph three weeks ago, Joe asked me if I would rewrite the piece with a little more heft to be used as a stand alone feature for his readers. I did and he included it last Sunday in JoeSentMe.com.

So, perfect for a bye week and a second coffee pour with the back end of a poppy seed bagel, here’s a little bit more about Abilene, Kansas, that I know you’ve been chomping for:

https://basics.joesentme.com/abilene.html

I’m proud that Medjet is sponsoring Sunday Morning Coffee. I spent 20 wonderful years with Medjet in Birmingham, Alabama, and can tell you unequivocally they are the standard-bearer for medical assistance membership programs. A talented staff, who cares about its members, is at the forefront of the company’s success. Whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, domestic or international, a Medjet membership should be an important part of your travel portfolio before you leave home. Check out the Medjet website at medjet.com or just tap on the Medjet logo and you’ll be able to get a look at Medjet’s services, rules and regulations, pricing, and an overview of the organization. And remember, any opinions expressed in Sunday Morning Coffee content or comments belong to the author and not the sponsor. Safe travels with your Medjet membership! — Roy Berger

Good Sunday morning. So, did you enjoy that extra hour of sleep? If you have no idea what I’m talking about, and you don’t live in Hawaii or Arizona, take a look at your clocks and make sure they match the time on your phone. Today is day one of four months of standard time. Not a fan.

And speaking of that extra hour of sleep, two key Las Vegas casino/resort executives finally stopped hitting snooze and woke up and smelled the Sunday morning coffee. September visitation numbers on the Strip continue to tumble and fell 8.8% compared to the same period a year ago. That marks the eighth straight month of decline. Value perception of a Vegas visit is at an all-time low. Guests feel the resorts are gouging them at every turn. On Thursday Bill Hornbuckle, CEO of MGM Resorts, and Caesars CEO Tom Reeg addressed the issue. Between them they oversee 17 Strip properties, trendsetters among the rest. Reeg said, “I don’t discount that there are areas in our business and in Las Vegas that might have gotten over their skis pricing wise.” Hornbuckle, whose Aria Resort has been slammed for a $26 bottle of water in the room fridge and at the Excalibur $12 cups of coffee in the lobby while room rates were $29 said, “We lost control of the narrative. I think we would all agree to that in hindsight. Shame on us, we should have been more sensitive to the overall experience.” By no means is Las Vegas Boulevard a ghost town or library — things are still popping 24/7 on the Strip — but a steady visitation drop will compound over time as we’ve now seen. A huge turn in the right direction is acknowledging and publicly admitting the problem. The big step comes in the remedy. Now it’s time to make Las Vegas Great Again.

And speaking of making things great again, according to the younger demographic in Central Africa, it’s long past time to Make Cameroon Great Again. Last week in its election for president, to nobody’s surprise President Paul Biya was re-elected. It was for an eighth term. Now 92, he has been bunking in the presidential quarters of the Unity Palace in Yaoundé for only the last 43 years. The younger opposition supporters are demanding change, there was violence and deaths during this election cycle. His opponent, Issa Tchiroma Bakary, maintains he won but no such luck as Biya’s administration counts the votes. Over half of Cameroon’s 30 million residents weren’t even born when Biya won his first term in 1982. However, he isn’t the longest termed non-royal national leader in the world. That designation belongs to Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbaasogo who was first elected to the post in Equatorial Guinea some 45 years ago in 1974. Mr. Trump is drooling.

It took a little while and just as our granddaughter Harley in London was running out of patience, the J-E-T-S rewarded her with their first win of Harley’s 11-week old life. For the Jets first seven games, all losses, she gave mom and dad that now-patented Jets fan scowl. But last Sunday the magic happened. Against Cincinnati, whose defense is as porous as security at the Louvre, the Jets staged a 15 point fourth quarter comeback to break the winless schneid. The game started at 5 pm in London but as the Jets got close, Harley feigned being fussy so she could postpone crib time and watch the end. Rewarded, she and every other Jets fan had smiles all around. And today the feel good continues as the Jets can’t lose. They are on their bye week.

This surprised me, I would have thought there were more. The Wall Street Journal tells us that worldwide there are 3,508 billionaires with a combined $13.4 trillion in assets which is up 10.3% from the year before. The United States accounts for a third of the billionaires and 43% of the collective wealth.

I guess the No Kings protest march didn’t work. Sacramento is still in the NBA and Los Angeles in the NHL.

No matter how much golf you play, no matter how many times you play the same hole over and over again, that hole-in-one remains rare. Unless you are Neil Phillips, a 19-year-old college sophomore who plays for the University of the South in Sewanee, Tennessee. Entered in the Chick-fil-A Invitational on October 20 in chilly Rome, Georgia, Phillips stepped up to the 182-yard par-3 eighth hole and because of the 40 degree temp and heavy air changed his club choice from a seven-iron to a six. “I hit a perfect shot,” he said. “I didn’t know it went in until I got up there and saw what happened.” That ace produced high-fives all around. However, instead of putting the ball safely in his bag for posterity, Phillips teed it up on the next hole and promptly dunked it into the water. He finished the morning round at even par. After a lunch break, the 36-hole event continued. Back on that same eighth tee that he conquered only a few hours earlier, the weather warmed a bit, so Phillips changed his club from a six to seven-iron. Bingo! He did it again. Two H-I-O, same hole, same day. “I was in shock,” he told The Athletic. “I still haven’t fully wrapped my head around it.” Phillips finished 14th in the tournament. Clearly, the other 17 holes on the course were not as kind to him as the eighth.

If you have HBO/Max watch Task. You won’t be sorry.

So college football coaching is such a high pressure occupation, huh? Hogwash. You want a high stress job— how about air traffic controllers or emergency medical personnel or a public safety officer or a firefighter or even a Jets fan. But to lump coaching football at our colleges and universities in that same category is ridiculous. So far during this season 10 Division 1 coaches have been fired. All received a COBRA envelope and a check for their troubles. Consider—LSU gave Brian Kelly $54 million; James Franklin got $49 million from Penn State; Florida thanked Billy Napier for his time and here’s $21 million to help pay some bills; Mike Gundy flopped at Oklahoma State but took the family out to dinner with some of the $15 million he received; Sam Pittman at Arkansas pocketed $9.8 million; Brent Pry at Virginia Tech pried $6 million to clean out his office; DeShaun Foster was such a flop at UCLA they couldn’t wait to give him $5 million to head for the Hollywood Hills; Trent Bay last at Oregon State got $4 million; former Super Bowl winning quarterback Trent Dilfer, who never coached beyond high school until UAB for some unknown reason hired him, got a check for $2.4 million while Jay Nordell received a comparatively paltry $1.5 million to exit Colorado State. That’s $168 million combined. College football coaches are hired to be fired and then they exit with pina coladas on the Cabo beach while these days air traffic controllers, without a pay check for over a month, have become Uber drivers to keep the family fed. Our world is upside down.

Sad news and good news for some television moms of our youth. Lassie and Timmy’s TV mom June Lockhart, to whom we wished a happy 100th birthday in this space in June, passed on October 23. Ms. Lockhart was able to take her post-Lassie career to Lost in Space and Petticoat Junction. Meanwhile Marion Ross, Mrs. C from Happy Days celebrated her 96th on Monday while her surrogate television son Henry Winkler turned 80 on Thursday. Yes time does fly, too fast. A couple of Charlie’s Angels also blew out the candles—Jaclyn Smith was 80 last Sunday and Kate Jackson 77 on Thursday. Also on Thursday Timothy B. Schmit of the Eagles celebrated his 78 while Gracie Slick turned 86. Friday Dan Rather turned 94. Yesterday golf legend Gary Player, still fit as the proverbial fiddle, celebrated 90. Finally, former ABC honcho Michael Rubin who brought us Lavern & Shirley and Happy Days way back in the happy days is 76 today. Everyone now eats dinner at 4:30.

I’ve been to London almost 30 times and this scares me right down to my bloomers: driving over there is something I would never do. They drive on the wrong side of the street, the steering wheel is in the wrong place, the city is a labyrinth of streets, there are confusing roundabouts seemingly every 200 meters and some streets are so narrow it can barely fit a BMW Isetta. None of that, however, will deter the introduction of self-driving robotaxis. Oh my. Not for me. Send me underground to the Tube, let me mind the gap and be much safer than up above.

Your old favorite bookstore may now be shuttered but that didn’t stop the publication of the 2025 updated version of the Merriam-Webster dictionary. Here are some of the 200 new words added: cold brew, farm-to-table, dad bod, cancel culture, dashcam, side-eye, petrichor and hard pass. Petrichor: the pleasant smell after rain on dry earth. If you didn’t know that you probably need the new edition. I just ordered mine.

I’m not sure about his fiscal acuity but the kid sure has balls: as mentioned a few months ago, my nephew Robby, 32, is a social media influencer with Bob Does Sports on Instagram and YouTube. He has over a million followers. Last Sunday he bet a five leg NFL parlay on DraftKings for $300. Win all five legs and cash in for a cool $90,843. Improbable is an understatement. It’s tough enough to win a two-team parlay, never mind five. Curtis Sliwa has a better chance of becoming NYC mayor on Tuesday. On Robby’s ticket he had four plays, all prop bets, in the early games window: George Kittle of the 49ers to score a touchdown. He did. Chase Brown of the Bengals and Saquon Barkley of the Eagles to each score at least two touchdowns. They did. The most likely of those four legs was Josh Allen of the Bills to find the end zone. And he did. That’s four for four. So now it all rides on the Sunday night game—Green Bay and Pittsburgh needing Romeo Doubs of the Packers to score a touchdown. In the four hours between the end of the early games and the Sunday night kickoff, DraftKings offered Robby $26,945 to cash out. Or he could refuse and hang in with a chance to win $90K. Needless to say he got some great social media play, which is crack to a social media influencer. He asked me what would I do? Take the payout or stay in? Told him it had to be his decision. He was leaning toward staying in and going for the bundle. That was no surprise. His thought process wasn’t fiscal - it was professional. Robby figured he could get some great ‘content’ and exposure during the three hours of the Packers and Steelers game. I told him if he could stomach being this close to $90K and forget about the $27K offer, then go for it all. He stayed in. He live streamed the entire experience on something called Twitch. I don’t know what Twitch is but do know if I was in that situation I would have a bad case of the twitches. Someone told me there were 100,000 fans watching Robby’s reactions on the stream. The Packers scored 35 points beating Pittsburgh 35-25. Andi and I sat glued to every Green Bay possession. I was sure after Robby won he would remember his oldest, and probably favorite uncle, with a nice little gift. However, not among those 35 Packer points was a Romeo Doubs touchdown. Robby left $26,945 on the table to chase $90,000. He wound up losing $300. That’s some damn expensive ‘content.’

My wagering isn’t that exotic. I bet Toronto to win the World Series. I thought the Dodgers were better but at 2-1 odds I had the Blue Jays as a live underdog. They squandered opportunities to win in marathon Game 3, Game 6 and in Game 7 with the World Series championship run on third base and one out in the bottom of the ninth. Champions find a way to win and the Dodgers did. They are worthy repeat champions. But the big World Series winner was baseball and baseball fans. Each game and every scenario of the game inside the game was tremendous. It was compelling for eight days. My NFL season bet sucks. I have Atlanta over eight wins; they’ll be lucky to get six. So midseason I jumped back in on a couple of other terrible teams— I bet the Jets over 3.5 wins, mainly to see Harley’s smile, and the Raiders over 4.5 wins. In winter sports my son Jason is my NBA guru and he touted San Antonio over 43.5. They’re off to a 5-0 start. In the NHL I like the formula I bet last season— a young team on the rise—as Montreal was a year ago. Hoping to duplicate that I have Anaheim over 82.5 points — so far so good for a team that’s fun to watch. I also stayed local with a play on the Golden Knights to win their division.

And finally, before we take an SMC bye week next Sunday, something really bothers me about the Trumps’ renovation of the White House. I understand it’s 224 years old and certainly needs a touch-up. And a cool $300 million gets a ballroom and in the process guts some of the East Wing. That’s fine it was getting kind of dated anyway. However, what really irks me, and at the same time makes me really envious, is how did they get HOA approval so quickly?

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