Remembering a fan who made the game more fun

Mary Bragg liked everyone, as far as I could tell, except for high school basketball officials. She was a genuine listener. I always found her riveted to my pregame assessments of what I thought Cape needed to do to win that night’s game. She and Billy sat floor level center court, a married couple inside an arena of cheap seats, following the kids of the community for a generation or more. They were fixtures; players always knew where they were and their memories of good basketball times will always include images of the supportive Braggs in row one and Billy’s signature seal of approval: “Yes, sir!” Mary died Tuesday, Jan. 4, the day of Cape’s upset win at Caesar Rodney. She would have enjoyed that and - who knows - perhaps she caused it. I am most saddened for the grandchildren, who will miss her the most, and of course for Billy and Jason and Justin. The metaphor of Mary’s life to me is of a great player who fouls out in the third quarter of the biggest game. I am now less interested; I’m still watching but it’s not as much fun. God bless the family, which also branches to the Widdoes clan through Katie, Jason’s wife. It doesn’t get more blue and gold Cape than this family.

Slipped discs - A single chair in a midday parking lot was snagged without argument by 8-year old Nina Heller of Baltimore following the Race Into the New Year 5K. Nina had pancakes with syrup provided by Catcher’s restaurant, a sponsor of the event. Lost in a moment of Zen, the little cherub polished off her paper plate.

Surfer dude - Jack Powell won the 60-64 age group at the Race Into the New Year 5K Friday, Dec. 31, and it is so cool that someone from my generation actually lived the endless summer life. Jack makes no sense, a lifetime blue-collar carpenter dude with running talent and dedication who works at the Delmarva Surfing School with his buddy Ken Savage. Ken’s number is 302-569-5055 for young athletes who love the taste of salt water up their noses and understand the life lesson “ride the tubes but bail just before wipeout.” Billy Powell, Jack’s 22-year-old son, also ran in the race. Billy is straight-up cool, and a long time ago the community came together to support toddling Billy and his struggle with childhood leukemia! Well, he made it! How freaking awesomely cool is that, dudes?

Pulled pork - I am most definitely injured and I have just cycled through my world of medical providers. How lucky am I to have orthopedist Dr. Wilson Choy and physical therapist John Knarr assess my chances for continued ambulation across the natural habitat I call my sports beat? I honestly can’t remember if Dr. Choy said I strained, stretched, pulled or ruptured my quadriceps fedoras (wait - that’s a four-way hat) but I do know he said, “No surgery and no leg extensions in the weight room for two months.” The upside to injury is that you were out there trying to do something. Sure, pulling a giant quad muscle jogging into a January ocean is silly to stupid and if I opt out of the February plunge, I’m sure to get a fax from Pennsylvania Gov. Ed Rendell calling me a wussy. Hey, maybe Markell and Rendell polar plunge together just like in the polls; I know Jack is going - so what’s up, Ed?

Snippets - Like an apprentice paparazzi, I snapped a photo of the Kenton boys after the Dec. 31 5K run. The Kenton clan begins with a Milford connection; otherwise they could be Lingos in the way the Lingo guys all kind of look the same.

Way back in the days of televised Friars Club roasts, Howard Cosell was the target. Comedian Redd Foxx stood at the podium, looked at Cosell and said, “When I look at Howard Cosell, I feel glad that all black people look alike.” He also said, “They say you are what you eat. If that’s the case, Howard Cosell must be eating garbage.” And speaking of a resolution to power walk back in the ‘50s, Moms Mabley said, “Two old ladies were walking down the street. One turned to the other and said, ‘Do you smell something burning?’ ‘Yes I do, maybe we better slow down.’”

We have slowed down now, afraid to offend and afraid to have fun.

Happy new year, hosers! Take off!