Sunflower classic is civil, old sports writer not so much

Topeka Capital Journal
Oct. 9, 1992

Kansas State and Kansas play football in Lawrence tomorrow, and everybody is up for the game. Most importantly, the crack Sports Department of this newspaper is primed and ready. To make sure of this, I checked with the brilliant, frequently honored sports writers.

I caught them on a day all of them were in the office, which meant it was either payday or the date the swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated arrives.

“Listen up,” I shouted. “What do we call the K State KU football game?”

“Sunflower Civil War,” they shouted back in unison. By golly, it’s no wonder they win so many awards.

“For this game,” I yelled, “what should we do with the records?”

“Throw them out the window,” the writers roared back. Where else would you find a collection of minds so finally tuned, so in keenly honed?

“And,” I screamed, “what are they playing for tomorrow?”

“Bragging rights,” the writers bawled as they pounded their desks.

“And what else?” (a key question.)

“ALL THE MARBLES!” Now they were all on their feet, waving their arms, with index fingers pointed skyward as they broke into the chant, “we’re Number 1, we’re Number 1”

I singled out Jim Ramberg for the last question. I asked him what the situation is when the ball is placed on the tee for the opening kickoff.

“The ducks are on the pond,” he said without hesitating or referring to his notes. Imagine, if you can, what an agile brain and what lightning-fast reflexes it takes to deliver a response like that so quickly. It helps explain why he recently was named indoor writer of the year by the Baby Dolls chapter of Quacks Unlimited.

Actually, my last and final question, as they say on TV, went to Pete Goering, who handles the credentials. I asked him if he wanted to send me to the press box in Lawrence tomorrow for my analysis of the game. It was an offer most assignment editors would drool over, but Goering didn’t even get his mustache damp. He shook his head.

“We’re saving you,” he said, “for the Day KU or K-State plays in the Rose Bowl.”

“But,” I said. “They’re not eligible for the Rose Bowl.”

“Imagine,” he said, “what an agile and lightning-fast brain it took to figure that out so quickly.”

So that’s why I won’t be at the game. However, I can still offer an inside look at this Sunflower Civil War. I threw that in there to prove I could return to sports writing tomorrow, even if all the marbles were on the line.

A crucial element is how the head coaches prepared their teams mentally for the contest. K State coach Bill Snyder, being a student of history, undoubtedly chose the Hank Iba approach. Iba always made the same speech before he took his Oklahoma State basketball team south from Stillwater, through Oklahoma City to Norman to play the hated OU Sooners.

“Most people in Oklahoma are a nice folks,” he would say. “That’s true when you go down through Oklahoma City, and even to the little town of Moore. But when you get to Norman, you find out it’s not true everywhere. In Norman, they put just a little too much sugar in their tea.”

So, he would get his Cowboys all riled up against those tea sippers at OU, and it usually worked. Why wouldn’t Snyder use the same strategy with his poor farmers against those tea sippers at KU?

Most fans, wonder what the two coaches say when they meet during pregame practice. In these days of artificial playing surfaces, they say hello and talk about the weather, golf, the stock market, politics, and other teams. Back in the days of natural grass, they often talked about the condition of the field, and they could get testy.

That’s because some coaches, in order to limit the speed and finesse of the visiting team, would allow the grass to grow about a foot high, and then water it all night before the game. In those days, Snyder might have said to KU’s Glenn Mason that it was strange the field received a 4-inch rain and downtown Lawrence didn’t get a drop.

The Saturday affairs aren’t over until the students finish celebrating. If K-State wins, students will burn Aggieville and parts of downtown Manhattan. If KU wins, the victory will be toasted during a break in Sunday’s croquet matches.

Incidentally, earlier this week, two K-Staters took a stuffed dove, supposedly a peace offering, to KU, but when it started ticking the KU lads through the dove and its bearers into the Kaw to float back to Manhattan.

The K-Staters are laughing about that. They know the river is too shallow in spots for them to make it all the way.

(Editor’s Note: Kansas plays Kansas State Oct. 17 in Manhattan)

Further tales of the seasonal grandpa

Topeka Capital-Journal
Dec. 21, 1994

This Christmas season has been different, and the reason is that we have two granddaughters, 5 and 3, under our roof. I have found myself in some strange predicaments lately as I have made some effort to be a proper grandpa. It isn’t easy.

For example, for the first time ever, I went to the Christmas parade downtown, and it surprised me. I saw every employee of WIBW-TV, channel 13, with the possible exception of the janitor, and I wondered why they were there, riding in convertibles with their names on the door.

It was nice to see Mary and Ralph, and Dave, Ron and Michelle, But why wasn’t Jim Ramberg there in his truck, with his rifle, shooting holes in the air conditioner, the feat for which he is now famous?

He could have been backed up by the National Rifle Association’s Marching Assault Weapons Team, firing short bursts at random, but with its flag dipped in salute to dead air conditioners everywhere.

This is not to say I didn’t enjoy the parade. It had lively band music, clowns, funny cars, great horses and a surrey with the fringe on top. It also had a fire truck, and the thought has occurred to me that when Ramberg decides to go big game hunting, that will be his target.

Incidentally, the little girls, and their grandma, liked the parade, and I’m glad they forced me, under threats of reprisal, to go along.

The parade was one thing, and next was the Christmas tree. They left me at home when they went to buy it, figuring correctly, I would be obnoxious in insisting on a small, manageable tree. Fat chance.

They brought home a whopper and dumped it in the garage. It was tied up in plastic webbing, and when you removed this wrapper, about 50 lbs. of debris fell out of the tree, and another 100 lbs. remained stuck in it.

This had to be cleaned out. The trunk and bottom limbs had to be clipped so a tree stand would fit. Then it had to be dragged into the house, leaving massive amounts of debris in its wake, and hoisted upright.

It falls over. So, you yank it back to get it straight and mess with the stand, and it falls over in the other direction. This goes on for a couple of hours, as more debris showers down on the carpet.

Finally, It is done, and now all you have left to do is clean the carpet and the garage. This whole operation takes about a day and a half, and from it you learn, once more, these three things:

  • Never have a Christmas tree.
  • If you must have one, get an artificial tree.
  • Don’t swear in front of the grandchildren, particularly if their mother and grandmother are present.

I was getting along fairly well with little girls until I tried explaining a cowboy movie to them. I told them the bad guys wear black hats and ride black horses, and I added that anybody with a mustache also is a bad guy.

“Our daddy,” they shouted, “has a mustache.”

Oh, I forgot.

Little girls are born to be teased. One day when everybody was gone, and I was bored, I folded laundry for about an hour. Later, Anne told her little ones what a nice guy grandpa was for folding all of their clothes.

Yes, I said, but I added that every time I came to an item of clothing I didn’t like, I threw it away, and I was afraid I had thrown away all of Kelly’s pants. She is the one who is 3. She looked questionably at me and then, and then Hope said grandpa’s just teasing.

But in the next breath, they asked where I’ve thrown them. I said maybe in a wastebasket, so they went to look. I said maybe in the garage, so they looked there. I said maybe Santa Claus would bring her some pants. I said I remembered I threw the old ones in the attic. They were on their way to look when higher authorities ended the game.

The girls and their grandma made a plate of cookies for them to give to their dad when he arrived. I helped myself and caught fire from both the girls and the higher authorities. From now on, I had to steal cookies from the plate.

When their dad, Gary, arrived, there were four cookies left, and I admit I felt guilty when they explained to him that grandpa had been stealing them. At my age, too. They also told him what I said about bad guys and mustaches.

The tree is decorated, and it has been a long time since we had anything like it in our house. There are a few presents under it, and there will be more.

We will be ready for Santa, and I promise the cookies the little ones leave out for him won’t be there when they wake up. I also want Santa to know what I said about guys with mustaches doesn’t apply to him.

Teresa, Nelson and Walter walk into a kennel

(Editor’s Note: For many years, the late Topeka Capital-Journal Outdoor Editor Jim Ramberg and his good friend columnist Dick Snider covered the newspaper’s fiercely competitive “Dog of the Year Contest” with equally competitive annual newsprint faceoffs. Here is the 1990 version.)

Quality canine shines over Topeka … again

By Jim Ramberg
July 8, 1990

Let’s face it. Everyone gets old. Some do it more gracefully than others.

Look at Nolan Ryan, for instance. A class act, still throwing a 90-mph fastball.

George Foreman, that roly-poly fighter, isn’t going around singing “Yesterday.” He’s knocking the stuffing out of fighters half his age.

And Mick Jagger, the little English wimp, is still cavorting around on stage at the age of 50.

Of course, you have people who old age effects in a negative way.

They become mean spirited, cranky, vindictive. What’s worse, they get confused and often get their facts wrong.

Let me give you an example.

There’s this guy who writes a column here at the paper. This columnist. (his name sort of rhymes with Back Slider) lashes out at everyone and everything. He has attacked the legislative pension fund, the Expocentre, even (I’m not kidding) his own family. Continue reading →

Post-Thanksgiving Potpourri

Topeka Capital-Journal
Nov. 25, 1998

Herewith, in the interest of a fat-free America, some stories designed to dull your Thanksgiving Day appetite, discourage second and third helpings, and keep your belt buckle in the same notch:

– Father O’Flaherty was hearing the confessions of some schoolboys, and noted that all of them, after listing more familiar sins, asked forgiveness for throwing peanuts into the river. He thought they must be repenting for wasting food.

But his curiosity grew as it went on, and he decided to get to the bottom of it. But the last boy in a confessional said nothing about peanuts. So the priest asked him, “what about throwing peanuts in the river?”

“Father,” the boy said, “I’m peanuts.”

Continue reading →

A few nice words about Dick Snider

(In March 2001, Topeka Capital-Journal outdoor writer Jim Ramberg penned this birthday bouquet. Ramberg, a friend of my Dad’s and a regular visitor in the final days, passed in 2007. To read writer Rick Dean’s excellent obit in the C-J, click here.)

Outdoor notes compiled while coming up with a tribute to fellow columnist Dick Snider, who celebrated his 80th birthday a couple days ago.

Let’s see. Dick Snider is …

Well, let’s start off first with some outdoor notes while I think about this. Continue reading →

Columnist Dick Snider dies at 83

Image

With Will Snider

By Rick Dean, Topeka Capital-Journal

It once was said that the mark of a good newspaper columnist was the ability to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.

By that criteria alone, as well as several others, Dick Snider was a great newspaper columnist.

Snider, the longtime Topeka Capital-Journal columnist and former sports editor, died Saturday after a short battle with cancer. He was 83.

A former oil industry executive, he worked briefly in the Kennedy administration before producing “College Football” — a long- running highlights show for the ABC network in the 1960s.

A man who walked comfortably in the world of sports, politics and business, Snider’s ability to apply a sharply pointed needle to people in power, as well as to himself and those he loved, made him as popular with readers as he was pilloried by politicians. Continue reading →