Anonymous

Yesterday, Terry Caesar Hudson from the Children’s Wish Fund told me that she had gotten a call from somebody that wanted to donate to the cause. We’d raised over $30,000 by that point, but I was pleased to know that contributions were still trickling in.

Trickling is actually a poor choice of words, at least in this case, because this donor told Terry that he wanted to take whatever we had raised and make up the difference between that figure and $50,000. In other words, this guy just dipped into his pocket and came out with almost $20,000 to help these kids.

Here’s the tricky part. I told Terry that I wanted to write about this on my final blog, but she told me that this donor would prefer to remain anonymous. Fair enough. But I know who this person is, and while I will certainly respect his request for anonymity, I want him to know that I know what he’s done, and I appreciate it more than mere words in a blog can express.

You, sir, are a world class human being. Thank you.

I’d Like to Thank…..

Can we all agree that awards shows are lame and tedious? Whether it’s the Emmys, the Oscars, the Grammys, or the Espys, these shows all boil down to one thing: we have to sit around and listen to a bunch of self important windbags prattle on about themselves so we can find out who won the various awards, when finding out who won the awards is the only reason we tuned in to begin with.

I mention that because a staple of all of these speeches is the inevitable list of people that need to be thanked at the end of each speech. While some keep it mercifully short (mom and dad, spouse), most thank everyone from their hairdresser to their fourth grade gym teacher.

Well, this is not an awards show – I promise no idiotic skits, no ridiculous song and dance acts, and no self-important speech – but I do think it’s appropriate to thank those that have helped us along the way. There are a lot of people on this list, and I’ll try to remember all of them, but if I forget to mention you, it means that either I’m a thoughtless ingrate (likely) or you’re simply not as important as you think you are.

So, without further adieu and in no particular order:

Scot Burns, Gray Green, Kent Sterling, and Pete Sebert all navigated the RV, which was not an easy chore. Kudos, boys.

Susan Skelton, Kevin Lee, Chris Denari, The Young Fella from Muncie, Brownsburg Kevin, Dan Dakich, and Michael Grady all shared the walk with me, and while I was more than happy to walk with my iPod most days, it was nice to have human companionship once in awhile.

Jim Kelch, Diane Fisher, and Stacy Paetz were in regular communication via text, and kept me plugged into the outside world.

Connie from Marsh, the various Marsh store managers, and Janette Hensleigh kept us fed and hydrated.

We had a chance to meet several sheriff’s deputies and police officers along the way. The simple concept of north, south, east, and west has always eluded me, and without these guys I’d be wandering around Dallas about now. They also kept me safe, which was appreciated by, well, me (though, I suspect not by everyone), and meeting these guys renewed my appreciation for law enforcement folk everywhere. These are potentially dangerous jobs, and though there are many people that hold these professionals in low esteem, I am not one of them. Please remember that, men, if you have occasion to pull me over for speeding.

We stayed in a number of different campgrounds, and while all of those operators were great, special thanks go to Jacque and Pete in Nashville and Dave and Marcie in Brazil. They made camping, an activity I’ve never particularly enjoyed, something less than the loathsome experience I feared it would be.

Bob, Tom, Kristi, and Chick from the Bob and Tom Show, Steve Simpson and Terri Stacy with 93 WIBC, and Dan Dakich from 1070 the Fan all gave us a regular platform to update the walk and generate interest.

Countless television and radio stations and newspapers all over the state also gave us extensive coverage, and that coverage assisted us in our fund raising effort.

Though not a sponsor, I feel compelled to mention K-Swiss. I’ve worn the same pair of shoes all summer, which means that between the four months of preparation and the walk itself, these shoes have logged over 1,300 miles. Take that, Nike.

Without the support of the Indiana Children’s Wish Fund and the Indiana Pacers, this journey would have been impossible. The same is true of our major sponsors: Wheaton World Wide Moving, Camping World, Marsh, AT&T, and Forum Credit Union all have my gratitude.

This has been a fun and rewarding experience for me, and without the aforementioned folks – and others that I’m sure I forgot to mention, which makes them no less important – none of this would have been possible.

Thank you. It’s been a pleasure and a privilege.

Tuesday’s Journey: Zionsville to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway

Mileage: 12.9 (We’ve already hit my goal of 500 miles. Don’t think I didn’t give serious thought to blowing off Tuesday’s walk all together).

On the iPod: Nothing. There are over 2,000 songs on my iPod, and I am now officially sick of all of them. Besides, I’m walking with Dan Dakich Tuesday, and his view of the world is far more entertaining than anything the iPod has to offer.

Stretch Run

Two days left. Less than 30 miles to go. I’ve had visions of getting to within 100 yards of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway Tuesday, stepping into a pot hole, and breaking my leg.

That, boys and girls, is the true definition of pessimism.

Monday’s Journey: Lebanon to Zionsville

Mileage: 15.8 (we’ll actually go over the 500 mile mark Monday. Do I get extra credit?)

On the iPod: The Dan LeBatard Show, Face the Nation, Styx Greatest Hits CD

Mistaken Identity

Funny story. Friday night, we checked into our campground in Thorntown, and I went about the business of hooking up the water and power. There was a couple in the slot next to ours, and when they saw me we exchanged waves. After that, I went back into the RV and got on line so I could update the website.

Meanwhile, The G Man, who is driving us to the finish line, went next door and, being a gregarious sort, started chatting with these folks. The G Man attempts to make friends with almost everyone we meet, and most people seem to like him. These folks appear to be enjoying his banter, so I’m not surprised when he comes back after about half an hour and tells me that we’ve been invited to go into town and eat dinner with his new friends.

If you’ve been a faithful reviewer of these chronicles, you should have at least a vague idea about some of my social issues by now. As they apply in this case, I don’t really warm to new people, and I would never – under any circumstances – go out to dinner with people I don’t know, so I ask The G Man to thank these people for the invitation and go on ahead, and I offer some vague promise of joining them for a beer when they get back.

They leave, I finish with the web site, shower, get dressed, and enjoy a beer and a cigar at a picnic table just outside the RV. After a couple of hours, The G Man returns with his new comrades and reminds me of my promise to join the group for a beer, so we head next door. Turns out these folks are very nice, and a good time is had by all.

But here’s the kicker. After several rounds of drinks, our new friends inform me that while they admire what I’m doing (they, like many other campers we’ve met, made a cash donation), they had been unaware of The Wish Walk. They further revealed that when they saw me wandering around in my yellow highway vest (which, by the way, is mandatory attire when you’re walking the highways) and Stewie Griffin pajama bottoms (which are not), they assumed that I was a mentally challenged person that had been trained to handle a few menial tasks and thought The G Man was my guardian.

I make quite a first impression.

Sunday’s Journey: None

Mileage: None

On the iPod: Nothing

Why The Kids?

Winding Down

It occurred to me today, really for the first time, that this journey is coming to an end. Next Tuesday, I’ll roll into the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, turn this fabulous RV back into the folks at Camping World, and then get ready to go back to work. NBA training camps start in less than two weeks, the Pacers have a pre-season game three weeks from Saturday, and we’ll soon start the long journey that always defines an NBA season.

It’s been more than five months since the Pacers last played, and I’m ready to get back at it. 22 seasons in, I enjoy the work as much as I always have, and while I always look forward to the start of a new season on a general level, there are always a few people, places, and things that I especially look forward to seeing.

Specifically, and in no particular order:

Joe Tait. The Cavaliers legendary play-by-play man is calling quits after this season. Joe is a class act and admired by all of us in the play-by-play community.

The press room hot dogs in Cleveland and New Jersey. The Nets are moving out of the swamp and into Newark this season. Hope they remember to bring the dogs.

The Riverwalk in San Antonio.

Mascots. Most of them are pretty good, but Boomer (Indiana), The Coyote (San Antonio), and Benny the Bull (Chicago) sit at the top of my list.

The Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. Always breathtaking, no matter how many times you see it.

Dick Bavetta. He may not be the most popular official at NBA HQ, but I’ve always enjoyed his enthusiasm. And, despite what Pacer fans might think – Dick the Knick? – he’s one of the better NBA officials.

Dick O’Dow’s in Birmingham, Michigan. Best bar in the NBA.

Dan Gilbert’s team getting pounded in Cleveland. He fired Mike Brown, who I really like, and behaved like a spoiled two year old when his star player left via free agency. Say it with me…0-82…0-82…0-82.

The Rocky Mountains in Denver and the Wasatch Mountains in Salt Lake City.

Larry Brown. I’ve liked all but one of the coaches I’ve worked with in Indiana, but Larry’s always been my favorite.

Cities where cigar smoking is allowed. The list is dwindling, but there are still a few holdouts. Stanza Dei Sigari on Hanover Street in Boston and the hotel bar at The Brown Palace in Denver are two of my favorite stops.

Ron Artest. Just because.

Minneapolis. I grew up there, and any time I can get home on somebody else’s dime, I feel like I’ve pulled a fast one.

Lawrence Tanter in Los Angeles and Mason in Detroit. It seems a prerequisite these days for NBA PA types to scream like nut jobs let loose from the asylum, but Lawrence uses a classy, soothiong baritone to inform Laker fans. Though Mason is loud and considered by some to be obnoxious, he’s funny and creative, and that gets a thumbs up in my world.

The Linclon Memorial, the Washington Monument, and the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington.

The fans in Conseco Fieldhouse. I hope.

Friday’s Journey: Lafayette to Colfax

Mileage: 21.2. Longest remaining leg on the trip.

On the iPod: PTI, The Four Tops Still Waters Run Deep CD, The Dan LeBatard Show

Fans

As I was walking through downtown Crawfordsville this morning, I was standing at an intersection, waiting on a red light, when a guy approached me and asked, “What’s wrong with the Pacers?” As is the case with a surprising number of people that ask me this question, he didn’t even wait for me to respond. He simply walked with me for two blocks, sharing his theories, which were rather vacuous – why is it that so many fans think other teams are frothing at the mouth to snap up the five players at the end of your bench in exchange for their best guy? – and ill presented. Still, I appreciated his interest and passion. Who, other than a sports fan, would intercept a stranger, walk two blocks with him, and automatically assume that said stranger had any interest at all in his opinion?

Sports fans fascinate me. I hold them in high regard, if for no other reason than I don’t have a job without them. On the other hand, they baffle me. Jerry Seinfeld once said it best: we root for laundry. Most fans don’t know any of the players or coaches, so they have no personal connection and no logical reason for their loyalty and allegiance. Still, they’ll experience incredible highs when their team wins, and suffer through incredible lows when their team loses.

Even more baffling to me, they will hate Player A on Tuesday when he plays for the Patriots (or Knicks), but love him madly on Wednesday when he’s traded to the Colts (or Pacers). They’ll dismiss a player’s foibles and legal issues as long as he helps their team win, but if that same player slumps and finds himself benched, they’ll take the moral high ground the next time the guy runs into trouble. They’re fickle – I don’t recall anyone objecting to Ron Artest, Jamaal Tinsley, or Stephen Jackson when the Pacers had the best record in the NBA – yet absurdly loyal. I suspect Reggie Miller or Peyton Manning could walk into any downtown bank, pull a gun, and walk out with a bag of loot, and more than a few fans would blame the teller for the heist.

So, no, I don’t really understand fans. But I don’t mind it when a guy (or gal) approaches me and wants to talk about the Pacers. Fans are our livelihood, I appreciate their interest, and always try to treat them with respect. And it’s flattering to be recognized and praised for your work.

But is it really too much, assuming the fan has interest enough to approach me in the first place, to ask that the fan know that I’m not Kevin Lee?

Thursday’s Journey: Romney to Lafayette

Mileage: 16.2 (tje average distance covered each day on this journey will end up being 16.58. So Thursday will be, more or less, just another day at the office).

On the iPhone: iPhone is idle. Chris Denari, our TV guy, will join me on today’s march. No need for music. No need, really, to even talk. I’ll just listen to Chris for four hours. There’s a reason that he’s in broadcasting.

The Culture of Camping

When I was a kid, I spent some time in Scouts. Not the Boy Scouts – I washed out long before I reached that level – but the Cub Scouts, where almost all of my friends landed and thrived before moving on to bigger and better things. In Cub Scouts, we learned about a lot of things, but none of it really resonated with me. Still, I was on the fence in terms of whether or not I liked the experience.

And then we went camping.

I hated camping from the minute we left the city limits and headed for the wilderness. We slept on the ground (way too hard) in groups of four (not enough privacy) in tents. Why were we making our own campfires when matches and lighters were available? Why were we catching our own meals from this algae encrusted pond when we could have stopped at a grocery story on the way to this God forsaken wilderness? Throw in the farting contests – I might be the only male in the world that doesn’t find bodily functions all that humorous – and it wasn’t long before I was looking for the escape hatch on the scouting experience.

The reason that I mention this is because I fully expected the camping aspect of this journey to be the least enjoyable part of the process. You could make the point that it’s not really camping when you’re in a 40-foot RV that’s equipped with a bedroom (no hard ground), a kitchen and a refrigerator stocked with food (no fishing), a shower (no bathing in the lake), and two flat screen TV’s, and while I wouldn’t disagree with that, I still wasn’t looking forward to it.

And then I discovered The Culture of Camping.

The people that populate these campgrounds are just different. You pull into one of these places – and it doesn’t seem to matter where they are, how small or large they are, or what amenities they have –  and you immediately become part of a community. You might be a stranger when you get there, but by the time you leave you’re part of this brand new family. Camping folk are friendly, outgoing, and extremely generous. More often than not, we’ve had the fanciest, most opulent rig in the place, but that hasn’t stopped people from offering us food, wood for the campfire, or anything else these people think we might need. And once they find out that we’re incompetent rookie campers, we are immediately bombarded with helpful tips on anything from where to go to get the cheapest diesel fuel to how to take care of my feet so they won’t blister any more than they already have.

Being a world class cynic, I was initially suspicious of such congeniality. Why were these strangers inviting us to eat with them less than five minutes after meeting us? Did they want something in return? No. Turns out that there was no motive for any of this generosity, other than the fact that it seemed to be camping protocol and that everyone appeared to really enjoy any opportunity to help each other in any way that they could.

I almost never give out my personal information. There are people that I’ve known for years that don’t have my phone number, and only a limited number of people have ever even been to my house. But I’ve given my number to at least half a dozen people in these campgrounds, and I find myself actually hoping that these folks will stay in touch.

Alas, none of this has changed my views on camping. I still don’t like sleeping away from The Fortress of Solitude, and while this fabulous RV offers many of the comforts of home and is about as far away from roughing it as you can get, I know myself well enough to know that I’m never going to enjoy the camping experience.

But I love camping people.

Wednesday’s Journey: Crawfordsville to Romney

Mileage: 14.8 (Benito Santiago and Vernon Wells are the only two players in MLB history to finish their careers with 217 home runs. That means that both men circled the bases to the tune of 14.8 miles on their home run trots).

On the iPhone: The Dan LeBatard Show, Meet the Press, Uncle Kracker’s No Stranger to Shame CD

Knowledge is Power

In the four weeks or so I’ve been tromping around Indiana, I’ve gotten quite an education. Averaging a little over four hours a day wandering the back roads has given me time to listen to quite a few podcasts, and it’s amazing what you can pick up listening to the likes of NPR, MSNBC, Fox News, ESPN, etc. I’ve also had a lot of down time at night and have used it to do a lot of reading. I’ve found a lot of this stuff rather interesting, and since I’m running out of pithy observations as we head for the final week of the walk, I thought I’d take the lazy way out and use this blog to share some of the more interesting things I’ve learned.

EDITOR’s NOTE: This blog is not responsible for the accuracy of anything written below. Just because something is posted on the Internet, stated in a podcast, or spewed out on television doesn’t make it accurate. On the other hand, it doesn’t mean it’s not interesting. And, by the way, that editor’s note comes from me. There is no editor on this blog, but I thought that EDITOR’s NOTE in capital letters seemed sort of authoritative.

According to the website mostpopularsports.net, soccer is the most popular sport in the world. No surprise there, but based on estimated number of fans, American football ranks no higher than tenth, behind such thrilling sports as cricket and field hockey.

The African bull elephant is considered the toughest land animal in some circles. It can fight off a pride of lions, is extremely intelligent, has enormous tusks that gore attackers, and can easily smash an opponent flat. Sounds a bit like Dick Butkus in his prime.

The top speed man has run is about 25 miles per hour, the fastest dog (greyhound) can reach 40 miles per hour, racehorses have been known to gallop 50 miles per hour, and antelopes can go close to 60 miles per hour. But no creature on earth (with the possible exception of Usain Bolt) can match the cheetah’s 70-mile per hour capabilities.

The average IQ in the United States is 98. According to the website rlynn.co.uk/pages/article_intelligence/t4.asp, there are at least 17 countries with highers average IQ’s than ours. Either that website is wrong, or we’re in trouble. I fear it’s the latter; how else to explain a country in which Sarah Palin is anything other than a punch line or a cartoon character?

According to the website foodbycountry.com, New Englanders consume more ice cream than any other region in the country. I don’t know why I find that interesting, but I do.

I rarely recommend authors, but I will make an exception in the case of Lee Child. Child has written a series of novels centered around a drifter named Jack Reacher, and they’re terrific.  I may be biased here, because I suspect I’d be a drifter had I not been able to con the Pacers into keeping me employed all these years.

After spending significant time listening to MSNBC podcasts, I’ve concluded that George W. Bush may be the only US President with degrees from both Harvard and Yale, but he is a borderline imbecile (I’m starting to suspect that MSNBC has a liberal agenda).

After sampling various Fox News podcasts, I’ve concluded that that President Obama is a terrorist (I’m starting to suspect Fox News has a conservative agenda).

Speaking of which, I submit that it might be a good idea for Keith Olbermann, Glen Beck, and Sean Hannity to join the rest of us on Planet Earth.

As of September 12^th, the oldest verified living person ever was Jeanne Calment, who lived in France and passed away in 1997 at the age of 122 years, 164 days. If Brett Favre makes it to the end of the season in Minnesota, he will replace Ms. Calment in this category.

The best radio sports talk program in America belongs to Dan LeBatard on 790 The Ticket out of Miami. No documentation here, just personal opinion.

The best sports columnist in America is Jason Whitlock, the former All State offensive tackle from Warren Central High School in Indianapolis, who now writes for  FOX Sports. No documentation here, either, just more personal opinion.

Off topic, but worth mentioning, I’m still posting pictures on my Facebook page (Mark Joseph Boyle), but the volume is down. To be perfectly candid, I’ve never really been into photos, but one of the behind the scenes types on this project was adamant that I supplement this blog with pictures. I felt that those reading this blog were adults, and that the written word would be enough, while he apparently thinks that all of you have the intellect and attention span of six year olds and required photographic supplementation to hold your interest. I have no idea which viewpoint is accurate, but I do know that you should count on very few pictures the rest of the way, unless I see a) Jesus rising from the dead, b) Michael Jordan hitchhiking on US 231, or c) The Pope conducting mass somewhere between here and Lebanon.

Tuesday’s Journey: Raccoon to Crawfordsville

Distance: 15.2 miles (Arian Foster would have to play 115.8 games against the Colts to rush for 15.2 miles)

On the iPhone: Nothing. Who would listen to music when they could converse with Kevin Lee? Kevin will walk with me Tuesday, and while I’m looking forward to that, I am not unaware that he’s been plotting to move into the play-by-play role on Pacer broadcasts for a number of years. I will be watching my back while we chat.

There’s Nobody Home

What do God, the Detroit Lions, and Yours Truly have in common? Sunday is a day of rest for all of us.

See you tomorrow

Monday’s Journey: Greencastle to Raccoon

Mileage: 15.2 (80,256 steps. Approximately).

On the iPod: The Dan LeBatard Show, The Very Best of Sting and the Police CD