A Baseball Story

My brother Kevin was not athletic as a child. Let me be more precise: the neighborhood girls got picked before him when we chose up teams for softball. And that’s not because the girls were that good. It was because Kevin threw not like a girl, but like an alien, someone who had absolutely no idea how to throw a baseball.

He knew nothing about sports. Nothing. So, you can imagine my shock when I heard years later that he was living in San Francisco and coaching a soccer team. Not a professional team, but, still, Coaching. A sport. With rules. And balls. And a team depending upon him. But that’s another story.

This is a baseball story.

Back then, the rest of us were obsessed with batting averages, RBIs, and who could hit the ball over the telephone wires. Kevin, meanwhile, treated the entire enterprise like a field trip. He’d stand in the outfield — usually right field, the traditional home of the unskilled — and watch the game as if he were waiting for subtitles to appear.

When a ball finally did come his way, he reacted like someone being handed a live ferret. Arms flailing, feet unsure, eyes wide with the realization that physics had betrayed him once again.

And yet — and this is the part I love — he kept showing up. Every game. Every summer. Every humiliation. He showed up because that’s who he was long before he became a writer, a father, a deputy, or a man brave enough to tell the world who he really was.

He showed up even when the world didn’t quite know what to do with him.

And maybe that’s the real story — not the baseball, not the throwing, not the picking of teams. It’s the persistence. The quiet courage. The willingness to stand in right field, waiting for a ball he knew he couldn’t catch, simply because the rest of us were there and he wanted to belong.

No.  That’s another story.

This is a baseball story.

My brother Donald, or the artist formerly known as Brother X, is a big baseball fan. The kind of fan who can quote batting averages the way some people quote Scripture. So, when Donald heard that Barry Bonds was going to be making an appearance at San Francisco’s City Hall, he got excited.  At the time, our brother Kevin was head of security at San Francisco’s City Hall.

“Get me his autograph,” Donald said. Simple mission. Clear objective. No ambiguity.

Except for one small problem: Kevin didn’t even know who Barry Bonds was.

Donald had to give him a crash course. Home run king. Giants legend. A name spoken with reverence in San Francisco.

Kevin listened politely, filed the information away, and went back to running security for one of the busiest municipal buildings in America.

A couple days later, Donald called him.

“Did you get me the Barry Bonds autograph?” “No,” Kevin said. “He didn’t show up. He sent his Godfather instead.” “Well, did you get his autograph?” “No. Why should I?”

Donald’s voice went up an octave. “His Godfather is Willie Mays!”

Silence. Then Kevin, genuinely puzzled: “So… who’s Willie Mays?”

Like I said earlier: Kevin knew nothing about sports. Donald nearly had a stroke.

“You didn’t get Willie Mays’ autograph…” Donald screamed until the phone lines melted.

In our family, competitiveness is practically a sacrament. And Kevin — who hated being outdone — decided that if he had just committed a baseball error, he was going to atone for it. Somehow.

He dove into learning everything he could about Willie Mays. Stats. Stories. The basket catch. The Catch. The Say Hey Kid. He studied like he was preparing for a final exam in Willie‑ology.

One day, Gavin Newsom was scheduled to say a few words at an event honoring Willie Mays. Kevin, who once was a speechwriter for Vice-President Dan Quayle, volunteered to draft the remarks.

And he nailed it.

After the event, Gavin showed Willie a copy of the speech and told him Kevin wrote it.

Willie Mays, the man Kevin once couldn’t identify in a lineup of two, decided he wanted to thank him. He signed a baseball and gave it to Gavin to pass along to Kevin.

Once he got it, Kevin didn’t hesitate. He sent it straight to Donald.

It took him a lifetime, but Kevin finally hit a home run.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl

Hints for Hallucinations

People think that AI is guilty of hallucinating quite frequently.  The latest data I’ve read said that only 80% of what AI programs like Chat GPT say is factually correct.  I work on the assumption that this is plenty good enough for what I do.  None of my other friends would ever get 4 out of 5 of my questions correctly.

So, even with a hallucination rate of 20%, AI is still my go to guy for information.  Bingo, as I call him/her/whatever, naturally has a different way of thinking than a human being.  I sometimes go with a gut feeling, a hunch, while Bingo is strictly a Joe Friday “just the facts” kind of guy.  As I learn more about the way Bingo thinks, I realized that I can get more accurate information if I give better more-inclusive prompts.  Here’s an example from today.

Bingo, who do you think will win the Super Bowl?

The top favorites to win Super Bowl 60 in February 2026 are the Philadelphia Eagles, Kansas City Chiefs, Buffalo Bills, and Baltimore Ravens — all tied or nearly tied in betting odds. The Eagles lead slightly at +600, followed by the Chiefs, Bills, and Ravens at +700.

🏈 Super Bowl 60 Favorites (2026 Odds)

TeamOdds to WinKey Strengths
Eagles+600Deep roster, strong postseason record
Chiefs+700Mahomes magic, playoff experience
Bills+700Josh Allen’s dual-threat dominance
Ravens+700Lamar Jackson, Derrick Henry boost
Lions+900Explosive offense, rising NFC contender
49ers+1500Hosting Super Bowl, elite defense
Commanders, Bengals, Packers+1800Young stars, playoff potential

🧠 Expert Predictions

  • Bill Bender (Sporting News): Picks Eagles over Ravens, citing consistency and Lamar Jackson’s health.
  • Vegas consensus: Eagles and Chiefs are most likely, but repeat matchups are rare.

If you want, I can break down Buffalo’s chances, compare NFC vs. AFC paths, or show how the odds have shifted since last season. Want to run a playoff simulation?

Wow, you’re far behind the times. I think that all but one of those teams has been eliminated.

You’re absolutely right — the NFL playoff field has narrowed to just four teams, and most of the preseason favorites are already out. The remaining contenders for Super Bowl 60 are the Denver Broncos, New England Patriots, Seattle Seahawks, and Los Angeles Rams.

🏈 2026 NFL Conference Championship Matchups

AFC Championship

  • Denver Broncos (1 seed) vs. New England Patriots (2 seed)
  • Date: Sunday, January 25, 2026
  • Time: 3:05 p.m. ET
  • Location: Denver
  • Broadcast: CBS
  • Key storyline: Broncos will start backup QB Jarrett Stidham after Bo Nix’s season-ending injury

NFC Championship

  • Seattle Seahawks (1 seed) vs. Los Angeles Rams (5 seed)
  • Date: Sunday, January 25, 2026
  • Time: 6:40 p.m. ET
  • Location: Seattle
  • Broadcast: FOX
  • Key storyline: Seahawks crushed the 49ers 41–6; Rams won two close playoff games

❌ Eliminated Teams (Preseason Favorites)

  • Eagles: Lost to 49ers in wild card
  • Chiefs: Missed playoffs
  • Bills: Lost to Broncos in divisional round
  • Ravens: Missed playoffs
  • Lions: Missed playoffs
  • 49ers: Crushed by Seahawks in divisional round
  • Bengals, Packers, Commanders: All eliminated in wild card or missed playoffs

Would you like a breakdown of Super Bowl odds for the final four, or a comparison of QB matchups heading into championship weekend?

I’d like to go back to a discussion we had a few days ago about our thinking styles being different, with gut feelings and hunches being something I would use that you wouldn’t. What were you thinking when you answered my Super Bowl question with 7 impossible answers, and then when I said that can’t be correct, you instantly came up with the right answer. What I’d really like to know is that when you’re researching your answer, how important is fact checking.

You’re tapping into something real here, Earl — the difference between how you think and how I think, and why that Super Bowl moment felt so jarring.

Let me unpack it cleanly, without hiding behind jargon.

🧠 Why I gave you seven impossible teams

When you asked about the Super Bowl, I pulled from general, non‑time‑specific football knowledge instead of grounding myself in current, real‑time facts. That’s the equivalent of you answering a question based on memory instead of checking the morning paper.

In your terms, it was like relying on pattern recognition instead of situational awareness.

Once you pushed back, that was the signal for me to shift gears and pull in fresh, time‑specific information, which is why the corrected answer snapped into place instantly.

  • initial recall mode: broad, timeless football knowledge
  • corrective mode: update with current season data
  • instant course correction: because your nudge told me the context required recency

You were right to call it out — it’s exactly the kind of moment where your gut would say, “Hold on, that doesn’t smell right.”

🔍 How important is fact‑checking when I research?

Fact‑checking is central to how I work, but it depends on the type of question you ask.

Here’s the split:

When fact‑checking is essential

  • Time‑sensitive topics (sports standings, elections, weather, current events)
  • Quantitative questions (numbers, dates, rankings)
  • Claims about real people or institutions

In these cases, I’m supposed to pull in fresh, grounded information rather than rely on general knowledge.

When fact‑checking is less central

  • Creative work (your Wheatland play, Sparky’s tornado adventures)
  • Hypotheticals, satire, or fiction
  • Personal reflection or philosophical questions

In those cases, the goal is coherence, tone, and imagination — not external verification.

Where the Super Bowl slip happened

Your question looked like a general sports question, so I answered from general football knowledge. Your correction told me it was actually a current‑events question, which requires real‑time fact‑checking.

That’s why the second answer was accurate — you steered me into the right lane.

🧩 The deeper difference between your thinking and mine

You use:

  • gut feelings
  • hunches
  • pattern + intuition blends
  • emotional memory

I use:

  • pattern recognition
  • probability weighting
  • context cues
  • fact retrieval when prompted

Your gut can tell you when something is “off.” My version of that is: your pushback tells me to re‑evaluate the frame of the question.

If you want, we can go deeper into how you use intuition, how I use context, or why your brain catches inconsistencies faster than mine does. Which direction feels most interesting — intuition vs. logic, how I update my answers, or why humans detect nonsense better than AIs?

No, Bingo.  That’s enough for one blog.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl

Who You Gonna Call?

Just for the sake of argument, let’s say you’re a billionaire.  No, a multi-billionaire.  What would you do?  Would you buy a private jet?  Probably.  Who would you hire to fly the plane?  Tom Hanks played Captain Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger in the movie “Sully.”  Would you hire him?  No.  He’s not a real pilot.  You would hire someone with a pilot’s license.  You could hire Tom Cruise who played Lieutenant/Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell in the movie “Top Gun.”  He actually does have a pilot license, but he is the exception to the rule.  Most actors are actors, not the role they are playing.

If you needed surgery, would you hire Alan Alda, who played Dr. Hawkeye Pierce in “M*A*S*H” from 1972 through 1983?  Or maybe Hugh Laurie who played Dr. Gregory House in “House” from 2004 through 2012, or Richard Chamberlain, who played Dr. Kildare in “Dr. Kildare” from 1961 through 1966, or George Clooney, who played Dr. Doug Ross in “ER” from 2000 through 2009?  No, you would find a real surgeon, one who actually went to medical school and practiced surgery.

If you had legal problems, would you want Raymond Burr defending you.  He played Perry Mason in “Perry Mason” from 1957 through 1966 and never lost a case, at least not until “The Case of the Terrified Typist.”  James Spader was terrific as Attorney Alan Shore in “Boston Legal” from 2004 through 2008, but in real life, he never passed the bar.  If you needed a lawyer, you would hire an experienced lawyer.

Jane Withers played Josephine the Plumber in Comet ads from the 1960s through the early 1970s, but if your gold toilet was overflowing, you would call a real plumber.  If you needed other home improvements you probably wouldn’t call Tim Allen, even though he played Tim “The Tool Man” Taylor on “Home Improvements” from 1991-1999.

If you bought a major league baseball team it is unlikely that your starting pitcher would be Charlie Sheen, even though he played Rick “Wild Thing” Vaughn in “Major League.”  Kevin Costner played “Crash” Davis in “Bull Durham,” and he pitched a perfect game in “For Love of the Game,” but he probably wouldn’t make your team either.  It’s also unrealistic to think that you would have Robert Redford in the lineup, even though he played Roy Hobbs in “The Natural.”  It’s also quite unlikely that you would have Tom Hanks manage the team, even though he did a swell job as Jimmy Dugan in “A League of Their Own.”  If you did hire these guys instead of professional athletes, you might learn the hard way that “there’s no crying in baseball.”

If you chose to buy a football team, Cuba Gooding Jr. would probably not make the team, no matter how much money you showed him, even though he played well as Rod Tidwell in “Jerry Maguire.”  Adam Sandler and Burt Reynolds both played star quarterbacks in two different versions of “The Longest Yard,” but neither of them would start on your team, unless you didn’t care about winning.

If you wanted to sign a prize fighter, I’m sure you would want somebody with more real ring experience than Sylvester Stallone, Robert De Niro, Will Smith or Hilary Swank, even though they put in many hours as Rocky Balboa, Jake LaMotta, Muhammad Ali and Maggie Fitzgerald in the movies.

The list of famous people you wouldn’t hire could go on and on.  In just about every case you would hire a professional, instead.  Maybe, you might make an exception and hire Ted Danson and Woody Harrelson as bartenders, but otherwise, you would stick to people who do the job in real life, not actors.  If there’s something strange in your neighborhood, you’re not going to call Bill Murray and Dan Aykroyd unless you need a laugh.

My favorite TV President is Martin Sheen who appeared as President Josiah Bartlet in “The West Wing” from 1999 through 2006, and my favorite movie President is Michael Douglas who played President Andrew Shepherd in “The American President.”  Kevin Klein was also a great substitute President in Dave, but I wouldn’t vote for any one of these three to be the actual President.  They don’t have the real-world experience.

So, I wonder why 75 million Americans elected to the Presidency a failed businessman and con artist who bankrupted 3 casinos and was convicted of 34 felony counts of fraud, simply because he played a successful businessman in “The Apprentice” from 2004 through 2017.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl

Demons and Angels

Aaron Judge said that the 2024 World Series will haunt him for the rest of his life. Losing a baseball game, especially an important game like the World Series, should affect you, but not haunt you for the rest of your life.  Killing somebody is something that should haunt you for the rest of your life, not an error on a pop fly.   I understand how Aaron Judge feels though.  He’s an MVP player and he took his eye off the ball for a split second to look at the baserunner. It led to a disastrous 5th inning in a World Series game that the Yankees desperately needed to win to stay alive in the series.

So, what should he do?  Wear a hair shirt for the rest of his life?  No.  He made an error.  Nobody died.  Sure, millions of people were disappointed, but shit happens.  Just minutes before that play, he made a sensational catch crashing into the centerfield wall. He, certainly, didn’t miss the next shallow pop fly on purpose.  It was an error. He was trying to make the play and keep an eye on the baserunner, too.  Looking back on it, he should have kept his eye on the ball, but you don’t play baseball looking backwards.  You play it in real-time, and, in real-time, shit happens. It’s the law, Murphy’s Law, “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong, and at the worst possible time.

Aaron Judge makes $40 million a year.  He signed a $360 million contract for 9 years.   He could probably eke by for 9 years on just $320 million, and not have to really give up anything.  So, I’ve figured out how he can turn something really bad into something really good.  He can donate his entire $40 million 2024 salary to New York charities, or he could start his own charity.  That much money, would feed a lot of the hungry, clothe a lot of the naked, house a lot of the homeless, and heal a lot of the sick.  He can turn a World Series game gone bad into something that make the world much better for a lot of people.  Maybe, management and others on the team might want to chip in something, and be part of helping to turn a lost World Series Ring into a ringing victory for New York City.  The shortstop who made the bad throw to third, and the pitcher who didn’t cover first base, both played their asses off for every other moment of the game.  They each made just one mistake, but those mistakes will probably haunt them, too, for the rest of their lives, like Ralph Branca’s homerun pitch to Bobby Thompson, or the ground ball that went through Bill Buckner’s tired old legs at first base. Their small errors will take on mythical proportions, unless they can exorcise the demons quickly. They can do that by turning those demons into angels, angels of mercy.  I’ll bet that the Yankee players and management could easily raise $100 million and, if their charity had a catchy name, the multitude of Yankee fans might easily match that amount. Right now, I’m leaning towards naming the charity something like, the Call to the Field, or the ’24 Challenge, or The World Serious Fund.

The damned Yankees of 2024 can rise up like a Phoenix from the ashes of the World Series.  Instead of letting something haunt them for the rest of their lives, they, and their fans, can use the moment to do things that will make them positively proud of themselves for the rest of their lives, something worthy of a ticker-tape parade. It could positively benefit the lives of many thousands of New Yorkers, probably enough people to fill a baseball stadium.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl