The Trials and Tribulations of the not-so-New Bear Icon

Somehow this has become sports week in my journal.

Years and years ago, there was a football team in Houston...not the one we have now, who can't win a game, but one that fit the Houston sports scene more by just getting far enough to choke in a big game. They wore powder blue, which didn't seem quite so effeminate back in the sixties and seventies, and in true Texan spirit, fans seemed to Love 'Em, despite the fact that the never quite kicked the door down.

For some reason, someone thought they needed a fight song. Now high school and college teams have fight songs, but pro teams are usually above the fray, but when the Dallas Cowboys got a set of Cheerleaders, suddenly teams had band and mascots and all the other trappings of their nonprofessional brethren.

Houston's fight-song didn't sound like a regular fight-song, something that would be played by a marching band and sung at a pep rally by the students that cared, or actually remembered the words. Houston's fight song sounded something like a honkey-tonk bar song mixed with a New Orleans funeral march. The words, were worse, and seemed to be written by someone who was lucky enough to be given a rhyming dictionary for Christmas.

What was worse is that the Miami Dolphins were given the same exact song, with a change of the team name. Both songs claim that the team is "the greatest football team." So who's right? Given that the Dolphins won Superbowls, I'd have to say it wasn't the Oilers.


( Here are the lyrics to Houston Oilers #1 )


Now if that wasn't bad enough, because the Oilers had a song, then the Astros had to have one. This was back in the 1980's, when the team still wore the uniforms with the big orange stripes across the belly. Certainly the most flattering look a baseball player has ever worn (of course the White sox did have the shorts that one year).

Unfortunately I can't find the lyrics to this total abomination, but one of the phrases is: "Here come the Astros, Burning with desire, Here come the Astros, Breathing orange fire." It's no wonder those Astros teams ended up losing.

Now, in this modern age such songs are passe. I'll admit I've played my share of fight songs in college and high school, and trust me, few people really cared in college if we played the fight song or the latest Gloria Estefan ditty. fight songs are silly, and often poorly written, but in a way, they are tradition for the school set.

The professional athlete comes to the plate to the latest rap song, or to some old classic rock song. Nothing revved up a crowd at Enron Field like seeing the closer coming out to the strains of Metallica's "Enter Sandman". Certainly no one would get excited about a rousing chorus of "Orange Fire" again.

Then again, baseball is the sport that trots out "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" every night.

Still, what's the song now? Besides the pulled together montages of a song with baseball calls produced by local radio stations, we have a version of "Turn It Up" by Chamillionare, some Houston rapper that I know nothing about. Of course I'm not sure if Drayton McClain, the Astros' owner quite knows what "crunk' is, either.

So maybe fight-songs are just a little out of date these days. They are a little too "patriotic" in this grey world. Just a little hokey where we have decided that the struggle between millionaires is just not that important.

Still, we could just go back to just claiming that we're number one. What's the harm in a little bit of boastfulness. Heck, the entire rap world seems to be built on it. So I guess that we can sing to the fact that our millionaires are number one. Fight, Fight, Fight.

Coming home tonight after watching tonight's Amazing Race episode with Jerry (goofycubb), I decided to drive by to grab a picture of the flashing sign at Second Baptist Church. Unfortunately they had already changed it, so it appears that next weekend's sermon has something to do with Saul. Now, second Baptist is a mega-church here in Houston, one of several, and is much bigger than the First Baptist Church. Second has the big TV show and everything. Apparently last week's sermon was an interesting one, at least in my mind, as the other night the sign flashed with the message:

Back Door Secret To Success

It's good to see the abstenence-only programs are really working for them.

Wednesday, my team left the office early for a team building event. Our division allows teams to do this every once in a blue moon, and since Lisa is leaving, she deemed that we could actually close down a phone que (which is something I don't have the power to do) and that we could take a half day off.

Last week we started to try to figure out what we could do as a team, together. Other teams had gone to the movies and gone bowling, but for some reason Lisa and John go a wild hair and started pointing us toward golf. Now this isn't miniature golf, but real, 18-holes, tees and greens full on golf. I wondered if this was a good plan since only two of us on the team actually played golf, and of course, it's July in Houston.

Still, planning went right ahead, and we talked about how to secure clubs for those of us who didn't play, and to find a course that wouldn't cost us and arm and a leg in green fees. We all talked about out experience, or lack there of. I personally have played a little bit of the game, more than 20 years ago when I took lessons as a teen. When we finished we played at 3-Par course that is now the site of a HEB supermarket. I have never played 18 holes.

So yesterday came, and since we were leaving early, everyone brought something for lunch, and ate at there desk, and we were all watching the weather, as Houston has broken it's dry spell and gone back to the usual pattern of having summer thundershowers. Well, just as we were ready to take off for the course, on Houston's near southeast side, it started to rain cats and dogs. Just getting through the streets was a dangerous affair as the streets were filling with water.

Just a side note, this happens all the time in Houston. Even minor storms can end up flooding some city streets and freeways, and Wednesdays, and even todays storms were putting Houston's overworked storm drains to the test. To get to our original golf destination, I had to dodge several cars that tried to enter water that they shouldn't have. Thank goodness for my SUV. In Houston, with the water and the bone-jarringly bad streets, having the extra car may be bad for your pocketbook, but it will last longer. Tonight as I drove home, many neighborhoods hit by today's storms were without electricity, and it was still raining. if we do get much of the rain from Hurricane Emily, due next week, it's likely there will be some major flooding.

After taking an hour to get to a destination usually 20 minutes away, I found that I was the first one there. This was after toting the borrowed set of golf clubs from the office to my car, and changing from slacks into a pair of shorts in the parking garage. At the clubhouse of the Wortham Park Golf Course I asked the guy at the desk if they felt it would dry out enough to play that day, and he responded, no.

When the rest of the team got to the site (Monica, the incessant whiner didn't come, thankfully), Lisa's husband made some calls and found that another course, Glenbrook, just a few miles down the freeway was relatively unscathed by the storms and was letting people tee off, so we all agreed to move the party. Houston storms have a habit of being rather hit-or-miss affairs.

Once we got to Glenbrook, we got settled in our carts and off we went. We broke up into a couple of different groups to keep things moving, and made the decision to play a scramble game, or "best ball". Everyone tees off, and then the best ball is used for everyone else to make the next shot, and so on until you finish the hole. I was in a cart with Zack and having fun driving the cart around all day.

The question was, how big of a fool would I make of myself trying to hit the ball? I managed to pull out an enormous driver out of the bag of clubs that I had borrowed and teed up my ball at the first hole and tried to remember all of those things they tell you about your feet, your eyes, your arms and your follow-through. So i letter rip, and managed to hit it straight, about 150 yards. It really wasn't that bad of a job.

Zack, who had never played before had a lot of trouble, and was getting frustrated with morgan trying to tell him all of these tricks and tips. Morgan was the most experienced of our foursome, always hitting for the longest distances, so more often than not, we ended up using his ball for our next shots. Being the manager that I am, I worked on balancing the messages that Morgan gave Zack with reenforcement and balance in the message he was getting. The factor was, we were there to have fun, and to get away from the office, not to frustrate ourselves further, do that's why I could enjoy the day, even though I lost seven or eight balls trying to drive across the bayou that bisects many of the fairways on the course.

My game seemed to really lose it anytime I needed to get loft on a shot, and I never seemed to have the right touch on the greens. It's not the same as playing putt putt. I also could have used a pair of spikes, as I managed to take a tumble into the mud trying to pitch a ball out of the bank of the bayou. Luckily it was on the ninth hole, so i could clean up in the clubhouse before we went on to the back nine.

The heat was coming back, and the sauna-like weather was taking it's toll on the back nine as my strength was being sapped, and my drives were getting worse and worse. Zack's got better as he went along, which was good. On 17 I wrenched my back in my swing off the tee, and I'm still feeling it today. The sun went down on us, and the 18th was played in practical darkness, with just the moon and the streetlights from the nearby houses helping us find the hole, but not always our balls. The clubhouse was closed and the staff waiting to take our carts as we finished. they had been pulling the flags on the holes behind us.

I was terribly tired, realizing that even with the carts, I had really done a lot of movement and was probably a bit dehydrated. If I were to take up this sport, I would definitely need to work on my endurance and my arm strength, and would probably need to learn how to swing again since it still felt unnatural to me. Then again, it's damned expensive. Even with the the borrowed clubs, and the cheapest balls I could find at target, and playing at a city course, not a private one, I still paid $35 for the opportunity to drive little white balls into the bayou.

hans wants me to take this sport up, since he wants a playing partner. We'll have to see about that. The exercise is good, but the expenditure, not so much, and after watching Morgan and John get more and more frustrated with their game, I don't know if anyone truly enjoys the game.

Still, in the words of Mark Twain, "Golf is a good walk, spoiled."

It's actually raining here - a little. Normally this isn't a big deal, but since it hasn't rained here in some 3 weeks, it's kind of remarkable. It's been a major dry spell for us.

Of course it didn't rain last night for Pride Houston. It was hot, crowded, and a bit unorganized, everything we've come to expect form the event. There's three things I need to write the Pride committee about for them to consider for next year.

1. Charging $10 for the festival creates a low turnout. This will keep you from getting sponsors next year, because their tents were all behind the gate where the majority of the crowd couldn't get to them. They will remember this next year when they try to decide where to spend their money. The same goes for the artists, who don't want to play to a small crowd.

2. Start on time. Since the starting point is a mile or so away from the main viewing area, this is important. The published starting time was 8:45, and there was even some acts for the center viewing area to fill the time, but they were over far before the first float sailed by. The opening acts also were placed a block away from the big chandelier at Westheimer and Montrose, where the TV cameras were placed, which brings us to our last bit...

3. Keep things moving. As always there were lots of lulls where there were no floats. This year was the first year that the parade was broadcast (on the pay-per-view Here! channel) and I wondered how they were filling the large gaps of time when nothing was happening. It also seems that the official reviewing stand and were the TV cameras were were two different places, which didn't make sense.

Alright, enough of that. I got into the neighborhood just early enough to park on Jerry's street, but Jerry (goofycubb) already had plans and a spot to see the parade (the top of Mary's bar), so I was on my own for the day. The crowd was already building at 6, and milling about with little to do since the afore mentioned festival was off limits to most. I walked around just seeing what the crowd was up to. A couple of the other bars were doing good business with their own artist playing to the crowd outside.

In going down to Disco Kroger (actually one of the worst stores in town due to its nearness to a homeless shelter) to get some water, I found a place to actually listen and watch Sophie B. Hawkins' set which was a good, but a little disjointed. I was sad to see that she was playing down a side street to a crowd of less than 200 when there were thousands just one block away. There was a member of her street team who had also found the loophole and was watching over the fence with me.

I tried looking for Jerry, but to no avail. I set up shop, and stood next to some bears from San Antonio and some people from the rodeo, and a whole lot of people who apparently only get out one time a year. I guess I take being out a little bit for granted, since the large group of latino guys next to us looked like they had never kissed in public before (which may be true). They proceeded to get drunk really quickly, as did several other people around us.

The Bears and the rodeo guys were cool, and we were snarky about everything, making things a lot more fun. Of course our parade tries to be like Mardi Gras with all of the beads, so there's people jumping all over you trying to get them, and sometimes heckling of groups that didn't have anything to give.

The highlight for me was seeing the Strangerettes who did a great routine under the lights of the big chandelier (for the TV cameras). The girls shamed the hell out of the un-choreographed mess that was the dancers from South Beach, the local twink bar, on the float behind them. I was surprised that the bears had so few people. Again, the odd bible-belt vibe happens here, and there were many, many church groups represented. After about three and a half hours and 100 floats, I was ready to go, and this was before it was over.

Really, I had wanted to go out and have some fun at the bar, I was actually feeling social enough to go for it earlier, but after standing in place, being run down by little latin guys and watching the drunk guy fall off the cooler he was standing on, I was a little too tired to do it. My back and knees were screaming and the walk back to the car was very painful. i'll admit the guy who was parking his car who asked me how the crowd was at the Ripcord was making my head(s) think twice, but the pain was too much and I didn't pack any aspirin or anything to help.

I feel bad about saying this, since I encouraged Larry (nightfallcub) to get out and go to Denver Pride today, but I think I'll think twice about going to Pride alone. I made the best of it, but it wasn't as much fun as it is being with someone, friends, partners, etc. Still, it was probably better to be out and be scene than just sitting at home watching on TV.

I think I'm starting to understand the somewhat jaded feeling some members of our community get when they've seen several Pride events. I was kind of upset that many people were just there to get drunk and didn't seem to be taking in the more important political and social aspects of the even, but when you have the big alcohol dealer floats in the parade, what are you promoting? It's not that I don't think it's important, it is, but there's obviously an odd message out there. I think it's important for our community to gather, and it's important for people to have a safe place to be proud of who they are and celebrate.

Still, I wonder if we put so much emphasis on the one thing, the parade, the event, that we miss the importance of working everyday to be out. Parades are great, but I'm sure a large portion of Houston didn't even know it was happening, or just saw 2 minutes of it on the news. Monday, what will they think about? Will they still be thinking about the upcoming marriage amendment ballot vote this November (that was only lightly mentioned at the parade). I'm thinking it's more important for people to see GLBT being proud of who they are in their everyday lives. We all love a parade, but the march shouldn't be just one day a year.

I had a lot of fun last year riding in the parade, maybe I just didn't like going back to being a spectator again. It's all about me, isn't it? ☺ Still, I could have brought a chair, too.

That being said, I'm thinking I should do what I didn't do last year, and get active with the pride committee. Sure, I don't know if I'll be here next year, but I shouldn't let that stop me. If I want things to be better, I should do something about it myself, and then I won't be alone next year for Pride.

Would someone like to come over and massage my tired legs, please?

✯Over the weekend I went to the Gay Men's Chorus of Houston show saturday night. Before the show I met Rick, my old coworker for dinner at the Hard Rock across from the Wortham Center for dinner. Rick's company was great, and he gave me his ticket as he was working box office that night. His partner sings in the chorus. Rick is doing well working for Administaff, and he is nice enough to periodically send me job leads. He is doing quite well, and is very happy working at the same company as his hubby, and not for us. After telling him how work's been for us lately, I think he's even more glad he made the switch.

The show was showtunes, more specifically Rogers and Hammerstein. I know, not an exceptional stretch for a gay men's chorus, but sometimes you have to do what you know, right? The show was light and easy, and featured a local cabaret singer. She served as both narrator, taking us through the songbook, and as occasional singer, but did not sing I Enjoy Being a Girl, which of course was left up to the boys. Surprisingly they weren't in costume, except for pumps and oriental fans. I would have expected full-on drag, but I wasn't sure if it's because the chorus is having funding troubles or if it's just thinking that that would be too far. I'll never know. I just know that in my first time seeing the group I was having a hard time not making comparisons to Turtle Creek.

Jerry was somewhere around, from what I gathered, but I didn't see him. I did manage to get lost somewhere in Wortham Center for a little bit as I thought I was trying to get out of the balcony and managed to stumble over to the other theater where the ballet was going on, but I figured it out and ended up back in the lobby where I found Rick and Troy. I offered to take them out for some dessert, but they had to return early for the matinee show the next day.

✯Saturday night/sunday morning I ended staying up very, very late chatting with a young guy in Munich via Bear 411. I'll admit that I rarely go on 411 and contact someone I don't know, but this guy was really cute, and what the heck, he lives half way around the planet. What was interesting was that the cute cubby was working on the air on a Munich radio station that not only was broadcasting, but also had a webcam, so I could see and hear him as we were chatting.

The funny thing is that his station was sponsoring a promotion that would send a contest winner to see a Coldplay concert here in Houston. "Mach Platz fur den trip deines lebens! Fliege zu Clodplay nach 'Bush Country' oder leide bei den Kastelruther Spatzen auf der Loreley." He would say, which I think meant you can fly to see Coldplay in Bush Country, or suffer with the rest of us here. My German isn't so good anymore. We talked about it, and how far outside of Houston the concert venue really is. Of course I threw in a not-so-subtile "maybe you should come with your winners to Houston." I didn't really get an answer back on that one, but I didn't expect it, either.

Still, i thought it was funny that they would want to send a listener to "Bush Country". I also told him that many of us here still think that Bush's family are a bunch of Yankee carpetbaggers.

Still, he is cute...see?

✯Father's Day was uneventful except for the fact that my mother was very, very upset that I had gone to visit my sister without telling her. I knew it was more the frustration that she hasn't been able to go up there, but it's not as if my sister wants to see her anyway. I think Dad just wanted some piece and quiet, but he wasn't getting any for Father's Day, and I felt sorry for him. I know my Father would like to get away and go see his daughter, but he'd have to lie to Mom to do it, so it may be hard for that to happen anytime soon. It's great to know that my parent's relationship continues to slowly decline.

✯When I was in Maryland both Laura and I both got asked often where were were from. There were different reasons, for one because I work my TBRU shirt to the Capital Pride festival, and Laura wore Ed's Texas Tech cap for a couple of days. Strangely enough, almost every time someone heard that we were from Texas they would always say, "That's funny, you don't sound like it."

I've heard this before. Many people have commented that although I've lived my entire life in Texas, I don't exhibit the accent that most think I should have. For one, I don't come from the western part of the state, where the accent gets thicker, but work with a speech therapist when I was young, and preparing myself for acting later on made me a bit more conscious to not pick up habits that my parents have in their speech, like how my mom says wash with the hidden 'r'.

What I didn't know is that my sister gets the same comments. They already say that there's some physical resemblances, so I guess I shouldn't be so surprised. Her finance Ed however, has the small-town Texas drawl that's a dead giveaway.