This is a True Story I call . . . Do you know who . . . Also known as MOM!!!!!! (Crying eyes out).

I love my mother. I really do. BEST. MOTHER. EVERY. MOMMY!

I can forgive her anything . . . almost.

My mother, even though she spent time working in gym, being a sport equipment coach for my High School, she isn’t really a sports person. She never really followed sports, didn’t know the pro athletes that much, and still doesn’t if they aren’t on E News or TMZ.

She defiantly didn’t know who it was in 1985 when she meet one of the biggest names in basketball, and had no idea who he was.

This is a True Story I call . . . Do you know who . . . Also known as MOM!!!!!! (Crying eyes out).

I remember this vividly. This was in the springtime, which in England is cold like any other time. I was eleven. I was going to Croughton Middle School at Croughton AFB in England, while my dad was stationed at Upper Heyford AFB while in the Air Force. My mother worked at the base gym on Croughton herself.

Since my dad was in the Air Force we moved around a lot, and we didn’t live in many places that had professional sports teams. So, generally, I followed what teams I could watch, and more often than not specific players.

When it came to the NBA my favorite player was Larry Bird, and my favorite team the Boston Celtics (partly because of Bird, partly because my mother is from Ireland and is Celtic). This is important to the story.

My mother rode my school bus home with me one day and, of course, we got off together. This was no big issue with me, I wasn’t embarrassed like many kids would be. Once we got home and she started making dinner, she asked me an odd question: “Have you ever heard of a guy name Kevin McHale?”

I answered, “Yes.”

“He’s some sort of basketball player I was told,” she said.

“Yeah, he plays for the Celtics . . .”

This is when she broke my heart, “Oh, okay. He was here for the last week . . .”

I freaked out, McHale – The Boston Celtic – was here???

She went on to tell me he was visiting and staying with his cousin who was stationed at Croughton. He came into the gym a few times and played basketball. She even mentioned that he was really tall.

I cut her off and asked (probably demanded) to meet him. (If my heart was broken earlier, here is where it get rips out).

She told me he left that afternoon for London to return home.

I was so pissed. This was KEVIN MCHALE. MCHALE. The base gym was one block from my school. I had lunch with my mom when McHale was probably there in the gym. I missed meeting him by hours, maybe inches???

I was so pissed, and sad.

To this day, it is still painful.

Ace

But I still love you, mom.

This . . . This is A True Story: SIR, YOU DIDN'T . . .

I hate Wal-Mart for a myriad of reasons. Any and all of them make sense and are true. This is a brief story involving Wal-Mart, an employee and I. It also involved potential embarrassment, and bullshit allegations.

This is a True Story I call: SIR, YOU DIDN'T . . .

Every morning Wednesday I go to Drawn to Comics to get my weekly books. Unless some crap comes up, I am there when they open at 9AM. On this Wednesday morning I stopped off briefly at the Neighborhood Wal-Mart to get a drink, a bottle of coke.

It just took a couple of minutes, I grabbed a cold bottle, went through the self-check and out to the car.

I heard someone frantically calling “Sir! Sir!” I kept going to the car, no idea who was being called.

Then I heard this, “Sir, you didn’t pay for that soda!” Twice this was yelled out.

I turned around, soda in hand to find a woman running up to me. The parking lot was packed. People stopped what they were during and were staring over at me. All anyone knew was that a man (me), was being approached by a Wal-Mart employee screaming that I didn’t pay.

The woman than said this, “Sir, you didn’t paid for the soda. I never saw you check out.” There were quite a few people around by this time, and all could hear her.

I told her that I did pay for the soda, at the self-check.

She said, ‘Ok,’ turned around and made back for the store.

Really, I thought. She chased me down out of the store, claimed I never paid and didn’t check out and now was just walking off. I had at least a dozen people in the parking lot who witnessed this and were staring at me. I just couldn’t let it go.

I jammed my hand into my pocket and pulled out the crumpled receipt. “Here’s the receipt,” I said as she was leaving.

She looked back over at me and said she didn’t need to see it.

I was pissed. I wasn’t kind here either when I told her she needed to see the receipt. She came running out of the store, with claims that I didn’t check out – in other words that I stole the soda – she was going to look at the damn receipt.

She refused and went back into the store and never did look at the damn receipt.

I went into the store and talked to one of the manager. They wouldn’t listen, and refused my complaint. He told me that since I had a receipt, he didn’t see what my problem was.

You might think that this was just one incident and one employee . . . this was the first time, and not the last.

Ace.

Going To Hell . . .

Do you know anyone in your life that you can’t stand? Somebody that everybody else seems to like and consider a good person. Someone you know isn’t a good person? I do.

Dislike is the word I will use here, even though that isn’t strong enough. This woman is one of my mother’s clients, and hence one of mine. Unfortunately. My mother tends to see the good in everyone, even this woman.

Me? Just the fact that I know this woman is a detriment to my life. Knowing there are times I have to deal with her makes me miserable. Hell, writing this piece about her, makes me want to puke.

This is A True Story I call Going To Hell . . . and it is about one of the nicest things this women has ever said to me.

This took place about two or so years ago, when my mother and I were doing some work for this women. My mother was in the other side of the house, while I was in the living room trying to get a new TV hooked up.

She started to ask me questions about if I was married, did I have a girlfriend, how often I had sex (seriously). Specifically if I was engaging in pre-marital sex. The conversation she was having – I barely said anything – was way out of line.

I finally told her that I am not married, and have no plans on getting married.

She asked why, and I told her honestly – I haven’t meet the right woman, and I have no desire to get married.

This pissed her off and she went on a tirade. She called being unmarried at 40 an act of evil and the work of the devil. She told me, “You are fucking up God’s plan, and you are damned to hell.”

Damned to hell because I am not married.

I tried to play it off, but she wasn’t joking. Seriously, this woman is a senior citizen, but she doesn’t have dementia or alhamzimer, and she wasn’t joking. She made it very clear a number of times: I’m going to hell because I am not married, and being single is against the will of God.

Every time I have to do work for this bitch, she brings it up. And, as I wrote above, this is perhaps the nicest thing she has ever said to me.

Case in point: after getting out of the hospital after my aneurism, my head was saved, my face swollen and bruised and my foot long scare on my skull was visible. She never asked me how I was doing or if I was okay, she told me: You finally look good.

True – but she’s a good person.

Ace.

'Why Would You Say That?'

At a recent Arizona Wrestling Federation event, Dave Parrish and I had a change of heart concerning a wrestler we were both iffy on. Because of his reaction to something said by someone (Dave), I at least became a fan. Dave as well, I believe.

This is a TRUE STORY that I call: WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?

The name of the Wrestler is hidden, I am only using his initials, for this might be embarrassing to him, I don’t know.

It was, I believe, the opening match of the show. Dave and I had our normal seats in the back corner, by the nice cool fans and directly across from the wrestler’s entrance. It was JS versus the ever popular Exciting Evan Daniels.

JS was announced first, did his entrance – too boos. He spent Daniels ‘exciting’ entrance in the corner by us, warming up for his match when Dave shouted:
“Rip his head off, Evan!”

JS’s reaction to this was classic and very real. He looked over at us, unsure which one of us spoke, looked hurt with sad eyes and said, “Why would you want that . . . I’d be dead.” Dave shrugged his shoulders. “Why would you say that?” JS pleaded.

Real emotions or not, it was a great reaction to a common expression at wrestling events “rip his head off!”

It was such a great reaction, that I had to cheer for the guy. He ended up losing, but put on the best match I had seen him do to that date.

Here is a guy I actually booed, but whose reaction to a staple comment was so awesome, it made me a fan.

Dave and I talked to him after the show, and he turned out to be a really cool guy.
So, no more “rip his head off” for JS. Well, at least against him.

Ace Masters