Who Dat?

Back in the 80s, long before the X-Games existed, Tom Haig traveled the world as an extreme athlete. He visited more than 50 countries as an international high diver, doing multiple somersault tricks from over 90 feet.

That life came crashing down one Sunday morning in 1996. While training on his mountain bike, he smashed into the grill of a truck and became paralyzed from the waist down. But less than a year later he completed a 100-mile ride on a hand-cycle and traveled by himself to Europe and the Middle East.

Since then he has continued to travel the world as a consultant, writer and video producer. He spent six months launching a Tibetan radio station in the Himalayas and shot documentary shorts on disability in Bangladesh, France, Albania, Ghana and most recently Nepal.

Monday, October 24, 2022

Top 5(6) Live Sports Events

1) 1999 Women's World Cup Final - plenty claim to have been there, I was. Brandi Chastain whipping off her jersey with the club and the country enveloping her in victory love. Changed women's sports  forever. Next to the Mircale on Ice, the most iconic US sports moment of all time.

2) Easter Sunday, Milwaukee County Stadium, April 19, 1987. The Brewers hadn't really recovered from the 1982 World Series loss, but at the beginning of the 87season, the went on a tear winning 11-straight out of the box to tie the American League record for wins starting the season. The streak was puncutated by the only No-hitter in club history by Juan Nueves. But we needed one more win to break the AL record, and more importantly make local hamburger chain George Webb cough up free burgers as they had promised for decades if the Brewers (or Braves) could win a dozen straight. But as it turns out, 12 straight wins was too much. The Brew Crew was down three runs going into the 9th and the crowd gave them a standing ovation before their at-bat just to acknowledge how great the thrill ride had been. It was over, but damn that was fun!

Then we get a walk... then a base hit... and then Rob Deer blasts a monster over our heads in the left-field bleachers and ties the game up!!!! This can't be real!!  Another base hit follows, but now we're at the bottom of the order with weak-hitting shortstop Dale Sveum. No worries - we've got good closers and we're good for extras. But Dale Sveum is NOT. He blasts a 2-run jack into the right-center bullpen and Milwaukee explodes as if they've won the World Series! The city goes NUTS- people are high-fiving each other out of cars on Wisconsin Avenue! George Webb is checking his meet stock to see if he can feed the city!   (unfortunately we haven't had a Brewer's moment remotely similar since)   

3) Oct. 23, 2022. Portland Thorns vs. San Diego Wave. NWSL semi-final. It's been a brutal battle the entire day and Providence Park is still reeling from the Timbers penalty-kick loss in the 2021 Final. Can we take another home playoff loss?? It would be BRUTAL for soccer city! Then miraculously, and probably way after any normal referee would have stopped the clock, Crystal Dunn, takes a strike and finishes off the Wave with her FIRST goal of the year. The capacity crowd expands to three-times it's volume and screethes in glorioius redemption! Rose City sends a shock wave you could hear all the way to Seattle!


4) Oct. 29. 1993 - Illinois vs. Michigan. It was Halloween in Champaign and all the requisite chemicals were flowing. We were tied with Michigan for the Big Ten lead, but not given a real chance. But our D held Michigan out of the endzone and when the gun blew off we stormed the field! Never been part of anything like it in my life. At one point I was so compressed by the throng, that I lifted up my feet and was carried around the field via my stomach muscles! Don't know if Memorial Stadium has seen anything quite like it since. 


5) 1982 World Series Game 5 at County Stadium. Gorman had been in a slump and the baseses were loaded late in the game. We needed a dinger, but he delivers a bases-loaded clearing double. He slid into second barely beating the throw and the greatest hit in Brew Crew history was celebrated with a stand-up slide and a city-shattering explosion.

6) 1980 Nicolet vs. WFB - WFB natitorium. This was the grudge match of all grudge matches. Bay was loaded, but we had some depth and we were up for the challenge. The meet goes back and forth all night long. Bay's ahead, then we're ahead - never more than by a few points. It comes down to the 400 Free Relay and we have to beat both their A and B relays to win. Our big guys held service, but the B relay was getting worked. And then Hans Landwehr gets in the pool and pulls the most amazing 100 free of his life. He's down 5 yds at the 50. He cuts it to 2 yards at the last 25... but he's running out of gas. Then he erupts in the greatest explosion of energy that the animal lane (the lane where all the distance swimmers train) has ever seen. He bolts ahead and smashes his thumb into the WFB touchpad that stops the clock. It looks like he got in there, but we're not sure. The scoreboard shows the same time for both relays. Then, the swimming official hands his decison to the score table. Nicolet First and Third! The place goes f'n NUTS!




Saturday, October 22, 2022

The sole reason the Casa, a group of ex-Nicolet swimmers and musicians, exists is because we’re all WHO freaks. I hadn’t seen the WHO since October of 1996 when I left the Rehabilitaton Institute of Chicago (RIC) in the wheelchair I would have to live in for the rest of my life.  That show was 26 years ago, almost to the day, and 14 years, almost to the day when twelve of us invaded the St. Paul Civic Center to sit in the 21st row for what was the most significant event of our lives.   

For that ’96 WHO show, Shawn Levy picked me up from the RIC where not only did I pull a month in rehab, but my brother Andy did his residency studying the same condition I found myself in.  I did my first car transfer into Shawn’s rig. We went to her apartment in Wrigleyville and the Scotty boys came over and smoked us out, which was interesting because I was still heavily on opioids. We then drove over to the United Center (The House That Jordan Built!) where I used my first handicap parking spot as well as my first public handicap bathroom (that really freaked me out). It was the Quadrophenia tour which was a mindfuck of a show, seeing as Entwistle was still alive. Billy Idol played the part of Sting, and pedo, Gary Glitter played wicked Uncle Ernie (ewwwww….)

I saw Daltry warm up for Clapton about 15 years ago at Summerfest. It was Roger, Simon, Pino Palidino, Rabbit Bundrick and Zak. It was a short 45-minute set, that brought me to tears when they played a vicious Young Man Blues. My brother-in-law, Mark, nudged my sister Nari when he saw me tear up and said something like, “Hey, I think Tom’s having a rough time.” She looked over at me and asked if I was OK. “Yeah,” I said, “I’m fine… it’s just… it’s just that this… THIS is what it’s all about! All the shit… the Casa, the traveling… it’s all about THIS!!”

And then last week I found myself in Brighton itself. I watched Quadrophenia a week earlier because I knew I was going there and I wanted to refresh myself on what the place looked like. I’d never been there before, but my hostess, Lesley (with whom I spent a night in jail Abu Dhabi in 1988… long story) made sure to take me to all the relevant Quad sites.

So one would think I would be ecstatic about the WHO coming to town, but I was less than luke-warm. My college teammate, Tom Scotty, had seen a couple post-Entwistle shows and found them disappointing at one point calling one “Who-Karioke.” And that’s coming from as dedicated a WHO fan as I know. The two of us met on the springboards at U of I when he double-bounced super high, then jumped off doing a triple Townshend windmill in the air. I was like, “Are you a WHO freak?” He replied with the first quintessential Scotty “intellectual dumb-guy” response I’d ever heard – and would quickly become part of my personality – “Why yes… yes I am!”

My enthusiasm was also demured by the horrible showings of the post-Garcia renditions of the Grateful Dead. Aside from one Phil-showing in San Francisco, the half-dozen post-Garcia shows I’ve seen have been god-awful and a stain on my memory of the band that not only changed my life, or saved my life, but actually BECAME my life. I never would have even flipped the vinyl to hear the second side of the current DEAD’s repertoire and I certainly didn’t want my image of the glorious WHO tarnished in anyway.

Alas, I had no intention of paying the $200+ ticket to see The WHO. But just a month earlier, on a whim, I looked at tickets for a Roger Waters show. They were equally expensive, but on the day of the show, the secondary market had them for $25! I swallowed up a pair and had the time of my life watching an extravagant Floyd show with a friend I hadn’t seen in more than a decade. We also got the handicap-bump to some good seats when I exchanged the nose-bleed tickets for handicap seats.

I went online the morning of the WHO show and, sure enough, there were $25 seats available. I scored a pair then looked for an accomplice. My first choice was Lance Halvorson who sat next to me in the 21st row in St. Paul almost 40 years ago. Lance couldn’t swing it, but my major Portland partner-in-crime, Jeff Ovington, also a massive WHO fan, scooped up the ticket. I was excited, but skeptical. I even blew off pre-funking for the show and opted for a workout at my pool. Not exactly the raging sentiment I had going into the St. Paul show where I would have taken a life to get the 12 tickets we needed to make sure we were all there.

Jeff met me outside the Moda Center at the same spot where Greeble, another attendee of the St. Paul show, met me a few years earlier to wait in line for Springsteen floor seats. On that occasion, Greeble told me to get a “Lotto” ticket and wait to see what number they call. For Springsteen shows, if you have a floor seat, you pick up a lotto ticket then lineup outside the venue in the order of your number and wait to see if your group’s number is called. They randomly select a number and start the floor entry procedure from that number. Before they made the announcement, Greeble leans to me and says, “Just watch -  they’re going to announce a number and twenty people are gonna scream and jump up and down.” Seconds later they made the announcement and everyone around us screamed and  jumped up and down. We won the freaking lottery and got to see the E-Street band front row leaning on the stage.

Jeff and I weren’t as lucky, but we still got a massive handicap upgrade from the nosebleed seats I’d purchased. We were on the side of the stage, just in line with the front-line of the band, albeit 20 rows up. But we were the only ones sitting in our section. We had a platform to ourselves, which proved extremely useful when we would eventually need to jump out of our chairs and scream.

I didn’t think there was a warm-up band, but four scraggily musicians walked right underneath our viewing platform and took the stage. I didn’t catch their name but gave them the benefit of the doubt and listened to their set. At one point, I looked over at Jeff and said, “Hey, that guy kinda looks like Mike Campbell.” They rocked the place for a few tunes then the singer says, “Hey.. I’m gonna play some shit from a band I used to be in.” The crowd went nuts and they started playing the Tom Petty classic, “Refugee.”   He didn’t just look like Mike Campbell… he WAS Mike Campbell! Ends up it was Tom Petty’s birthday, so he played a full Petty set and we went nuts. We paid to see two Hall-of-Famers, and we got a third for free!

Now it was time to put eyes on Pete Townshend. I hadn’t seen him in more than two decades. I’m not gonna lie. Pete Townshend is the most influential figure in my life. All I am, all I do is because he told me to “Go to the Mirror Boy!” I dropped my faith (happily) because of him and I became a relentless traveler because I needed to find answers and truths he said we should seek. All my life-long friends are my friends because of our dedication to the messages we learned from listening to the WHO. It's not a religion, but it is a philosophy. There’s a Townshend song, called “The Seeker”
 where he….  I’m getting ahead of myself…

The 30-piece orchestra took the stage, warmed up and then it slowly unfolded. Simon Townshend and Zak Starkey (Pete’s brother and Ringo Starr’s son) took the stage and addressed their instruments. The crowd went nuts. Then… holy shit – Pete fucking Townshend comes out and picks up his axe. It’s all business-like as he straps it on and prepares to blow our fucking minds. Roger strolls up on stage for just another tricky day. They are 77 and 78 years-old respectively. As rock stars, if you didn’t kill yourself in your 20s and 30s, it ends up you lead a pretty healthy life. They both looked more energetic and alive than any septuagenarian one would ever cross. I mean Keith Richards still dances around a Stones stage.  Whose grandparents can do that?

The crowd went insane while the 30+ musicians on stage prepared. Seeing as this was an orchestra show (another reason, I wasn’t overly excited – these rock band-orchestra shows are usually buzzkills), there’s a bit of tuning up as the musicians pick up their gear and get ready to play. Then the lights went down, the horns and string bows raise…

____________________________________________

They kicked  off with an operatic version of the Tommy overture. It was just the classical musicians at this point, but the outfit had a bit of dig to it. It wasn't soft, fluffy ethereal music. The horns and high strings were really biting into this material. Zak Starkey kicked in early and stayed amazing all night. If this was a 3-ring circus, Zak certainly is no third fiddle. From our angle above the stage, it was easy to witness him relentlessly pounding that kit – which he did all night long. He’s the third WHO drummer after Moon and Kenny Jones. But he’s held that chair longer than any of them.

Then the big boys chimed in. Daltry takes his first breaths into the mic and immediately one realizes this is no washed-up, old-guy, crackly rock-star voice. He is clear, vibrant, powerful and energetic. He graces the Tommy material with a voice that can’t be described as “Aged” but purely dominant. Freddy Mercury in his prime was not as dynamic as Daltry is on this stage. I’ve heard Pete doesn’t like touring, but he does it because Roger needs to. If you had an instrument like Daltry, you would need to exercise it too.

The Tommy material is uplifting and pulls the audience in. Then – BAM!! Pinball Wizard!!!!! Get the fuck out! They knock the crap out of this tune with all the requisite windmills and mic twirls. The orchestra does nothing but accentuate the most vibrant parts of the song with trombone blasts and piercing high-end violin. It’s out-of-this world music. WHAT THE FUCK AM I AM WITNESSING!!!

It’s at this point that I realize, I’m not only at a WHO show, I’m at one of the best shows I’ve ever seen in my life. From there they go through a selection of what I’ll call post-“Great”-WHO songs, which they absolutely dominate -> Who Are You, Eminence Front (Pete KILLING the vocals), You Better, You Better, You BET.

And then we got a personal gift from Pete to the Casa. We get the tune that describes our entire existence – our sole (soul?) quest in life. I never cried at church, but I cried here – “They call me the Seeker!! I’ve been running low and HIGH!!! Won’t get to get what I’m after – till the day I DIE!!!  

I have tears running down my cheeks and I realize I’m not at a rock concert, I’m at a freaking deliverance! I’m transformed into the 20-year-old kid in St. Paul. 40 years later and all those feelings, all that inspiration, all that energy has now been VALIDATED!!! After all these years we stayed TRUE! Hell, most of us became musicians! We were the seekers then and continue to be them now. Until the end of our lives, we will remain the SEEKERS!!!

Before my tears dry, they kick into Naked Eye and the emotions build up again. They are not the greatest rock and roll band of all time. They’re something more than that… they’re the fucking WHO.

But they are, in fact, the greatest rock band of all time, so they had to do their due diligence and power though the greatest songs ever written. Before they’re done they blow the crap out of Another Tricky Day, Behind Blue Eyes, Won’t Get Fooled Again… The Orchestra has been off stage for a half-dozen songs, but return for the Quadrophenia material – which was actually the only reason I thought the WHO would need them in the first place. And of course, it crushes -> The Real Me, I’m the One, 5:15, Love Reign O’er Me… If there is only one thing that’s missing, it’s John. The arrangements and musicianship is over-the-top, but they can’t launch like they could with Entwistle. He was just too big a force and no player on Earth can replace him. Zak does an amazing job playing the Moon parts, but a bass player trying to replicate Entwistle?? Ain’t gonna happen. I was wondering if they would attack “Drowned” but seriously, what’s the point without Entwistle?

And then it had to end. They’d already played Won’t Get Fooled Again with Daltry wrecking the building with his primordial scream. The familiar clanking of Baba O’Reilly emerged and the crowd jumped to their feet, not dancing, but blasting out of their seats with fists in the air. We’ve been treated to a revival, and we don’t want it to end!

But of course, they had more tricks up their sleeves. The first chair violinist pops out of her seat and starts into the violin music we all know at the end of Baba O’Reilly. It starts up slow, but in a few seconds, it builds into a manic Celtic spiritual romp. It’s insane! The crowd can’t contain itself! We’re screaming as if these are our last seconds on Earth – we could only be so lucky!

And then BAM! She hits the final note and the Moda Center explodes in tones and volumes I’ve never heard before. The building is fucking WRECKED! There’s no more to say – no encore. Just the stage bows. We’re too devastated to go on.

Jeff and I, who have been singing our throats out all night long, look at each other and are actually happy there’s no encore. We can’t take anymore!

But as we’re walking out, you can hear the house manager giving us one last treat. Above the noise of the crowd you can faintly make out the first pre-Tommy tune of the night – BATMAN!