I was in eighth grade in February of 1980, deep in my Exile in Indy era.
I’d been suspended from Christ the King grade school, again. I was a little jagoff who couldn’t stay out of my own way. My mom couldn’t handle me, my Oldman was 177 miles north in Oak Park, and I was trying every stunt I could to get a one-way ticket back home to Cook County.
Most of that suspension week, I was locked in my bedroom with a small black-and-white Panasonic. I was in a world of trouble. My mom was beside herself, my Gramma was at church saying the rosary for my oversized soul, and my Oldman was licking his chops. I knew my next Amtrak ride back to Chicago was going to be about as gentle as a lumberyard.
But my timing ended up being perfect...
The 1980 Winter Olympics were happening, and instead of sitting in history and religion class, I watched every hockey game that led up to the Miracle on Ice. I watched the boys beat the Soviets and then finish the job against Finland for the gold. I watched Eric Heiden win five medals in speed skating, from the 500 meter to the 10,000. That was my math class... learning meters. The U.S. finished third in the medal count behind the Soviet Union and East Germany. There was my history class.
Fast-forward to last night and another miracle down in Indianapolis. The Indiana Hoosiers beat a team that has owned them for over a century. Nine out of ten times Ohio State handles them, but not last night. Not in that building. Last night's Big Ten Championship ranks right there with the 1980 victory over a favored bunch of commies.
I probably have your attention because of what is in the Grabber section of today’s Morning Chalkboard. That is why they call it the Grabber. Japps might have changed the name of their potato chips to Jays after that day of infamy, but I’m not changing my blackboard. I’m not sugarcoating history. Even my Gramma, who prayed the rosary every day of her life, used that word. When Hazel wakes up, she will probably call me a racist baby boomer, and I’ll correct her that I’m Gen X. She lives to push that button.
Look...slur words have been thrown at every group in history. At one point, all of us were on the other end of a slur word. We don’t use them today because we know better, but pretending they never existed? That isn't history.
That is fiction.
As I am writing this, the snow is coming down over the Divorced Dad District. That “dusting” they predicted looks more like four or five inches. Perfect weather for Bears–Packers football, and thank God I’m not watching it on a 12-inch black-and-white with rabbit ears.
Go make the world a better place today.
If you insist on using a slur word, pay the bartender and Uber home. Do your best to make the Yuletide gay. Because in 2026, all our troubles will be miles away...
