Obviously as a Christian, I believe it is within the power of God to heal a child inside the mother’s womb. I believe He not only can provide that healing, but does on occasions provide it, often in supernatural ways. I also do not think it is wrong to pray for the healing or that a baby be born healthy and “normal.” It is every parent’s desire to have children with normal minds and bodies.

But if God does not choose to provide the healing is it because someone doesn’t have “enough faith?” I believe this is just a cop-out answer at best and bad theology at worst. If a child is born with Down’s Syndrome or some other defect will the parents love that child any less than if that child had been born “normal.” I believe the answer is a resounding NO!! My own son has some health issues that we have had to “deal with” but I love him no less because of it. In many ways he is even more special to me because of his struggles.

Telling someone that the bad circumstances in their lives are caused by not having “enough faith” is an act of cruelty. Yes we bring much pain on ourselves. I’m the poster boy for that. But it has been ordained for us to suffer. Look at Job. He stood righteous before God and He was made to suffer. Nowhere in that fine Old Testament book is it said that Job didn’t have enough faith. In fact the opposite seems to be the case.

Expecting God to make the things the way we want them is not true faith. Of course we all want lives without heartache, without sickness, without hurt, and without suffering. That’s just our nature. But expecting God to make our path easy is not in line with what He has revealed in His word. That mentality strips God of His sovereignty and makes him little more than a Santa Claus. It is selfish. It is destructive and it is heresy. If anything, He has told us we will suffer and to count it all joy.

So what is faith. Well faith (at the risk of being overly simplistic) is believing that God is  sovereign and that He will accomplish the purpose of His will. Faith is knowing that we may not always understand His purposes and His methods, but that ultimately all things will work together for good for those who believe (in Christ) are called according to His purpose. Faith is the belief, like the old hymn goes that whatever befalls me, it is well with my soul.

The First Council of Nicaea in 325 AD dealt with the heresy of Arianism. It’s major proponent Arius  whom the heresy is named after asserts that Christ did not always exist but was crested by God. That heresy persists even today in the form of Jehovah’s Witnesses.

The Council of Carthage in 418 condemned the heresy of Pelagianism, a belief that man is not tainted by original sin but has the capacity to choose between good or evil without divine assistance. Today Pelagianism is alive and well in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

The First Council of Ephesus in 431 AD dealt with the heresy of Nestorianism, a false doctrine that asserts that the human and divine natures of Christ are separate. It was later condemned again at the Council of Chalcedon in 451 AD.

Since those times there have been no end to false teachers that either deliberately or through ignorance spread heresy. Many of them just repackage old heresies and make them glitzy and glamorous. Here are a couple of false teachers that particularly get under my skin.

Joel Osteen

This guy is like a wreck that you pass by on the side of the road. Even though you know you shouldn’t look you find yourself secretly hoping to see some gore. When I flip through the channels and see Joel on, I can’t help but stop and watch a few minutes of it. Looking like a metro sexual with an almost perfectly coiffed mullet, Joel delivers one feel goodism after another without once mentioning sin. Now I’m no scholar, but I do know enough to know that without sin there is no need for a savior. The Bible says ALL have sinned (Romans 3:23). Because of our sin we are separated from God and unable to save ourselves. Because of the atoning work of Jesus we can have forgiveness and have the righteousness of Christ counted as our own. Joel never mentions this.

He refuses to say that Christ is the only way for a man to stand justified in the eyes of God. He doesn’t want to offend. I’m sorry Joel, but that is a different gospel. That makes you stand accursed. Jesus tells us that he alone is the way the truth of the life. No one comes to the Father but through Him. That’s John 14:6 if you are keeping score.

Joel has written a huge best seller “Your Best Life Now”. In it he tells that God has promised the believer health and wealth. I just don’t see that in the scriptures. Instead I see the assurance that we will suffer if we are in the faith. As John MacArthur said “if you are having your best life now, your eternal destiny is Hell.”

Fred Phelps

I wish this idiot would drop off the face of the planet. He is the so-called brains behind the Westboro Baptist Church of Topeka Kansas that pickets the funerals of fallen US servicemen and anyone else they feel like picketing. Phelps and his family have adopted a hyper-calvinist theology. They certainly don’t evangelize. They only condemn. God Hates Fags is their rallying cry. Yes we can be assured that the sin of homosexuality is an abomination in the eyes of the LORD. But let the LORD mete out His vengeance. He doesn’t need your help Fred.

I was actually disappointed in the US Supreme Court for affirming the right to picket at a funeral as being protected free speech. I know many will disagree with me, and that’s fine, but I draw the line at the exercise of free speech that is intentionally hurtful and meant with malice. Actually I don’t believe in the Constitution. I want it dissolved immediately with myself becoming the King. Fred wouldn’t like it if I were king. I’d have him thrown into a dungeon somewhere and silenced for the rest of his days.

Peter Ruckman

This is another hate-filled idiot cretin who is the poster boy for King James Onlyism, another dangerous heresy. Ruckman is never kind in his dialogues with those who disagree with him and frequently resorts to name-calling and caustic sarcasm. He once began a letter with the salutation, “Dear Scumbag.”

My issue with King James Onlyism is not the KJV. I grew up hearing it read in church and I have a deep love for it and a respect for the majesty of the language. But to go so far as to say that God ordained that it was the only English language Bible and that it can even be used to correct the Greek is foolish. He is on record as saying any translation error from the Textus Receptus to the 1611 KJV is advanced revelation. He and his supporters love to sling mud at “Westcott and Hort” but lacking any real cogent arguments they basically resort to character assassination. Interestingly enough I have never found this sort of “information” anywhere but KJV only advocates.

This clown even teaches that abortion is not murder. As a Christian I have a big problem with this. When the secular culture defends abortion, though they are wrong and misguided, they are only acting as unbelievers are expected to act. Christians on the other hand should have deep convictions from the scriptures that all life is created by God and that it is He who should decide when to end it.

And to top it off these are his own words:

If we are truly sincere, can we choose any Bible that we like and have the same results at the judgment? The importance of this question is immeasurable, for throughout eternity we will be affected by the answer!

If you believe I made this up go here. This is legalism plain and simple and a vicious heresy.

Benny Hinn

Benny is living proof that P.T. Barnum was right. The fact that he continues to thrive is ample evidence that there are indeed suckers born every minute. While many evangelical Christians can see right through Benny and immediately understand that he is a charlatan, the charismatic wing of Christianity is especially gullible to this man and his snake oil. I believe that there are many fine genuinely saved men and women who are charismatics, but the emphasis placed on experience and emotion allows them to be misled by Benny and other false teachers.

Benny claims to receive an “anointing” which allows him to heal the sick. He claims to have healed people from AIDS, blindness, deafness, and cancer, yet several prominent press investigations find no credible evidence that these healings actually occurred.

Benny once made the news in 1999 when he appeared on the Trinity Broadcasting Network. (I call it The Blasphemy Network. Paul and Jan Crouch could easily be a part of this blog post but I’ll dog them out later.) Benny claimed that God would resurrect the dead if their loved ones would put the hands of the deceased on the TV while it was tuned to TBN. Guess what. It didn’t happen.

As with all televangelist Benny sucks his followers dry while living an incredibly lavish lifestyle. He was once the target of a Senate investigation.

My list could go on and on. I could include the aforementioned Paul and Jan Crouch, TD Jakes, Joyce Meyer, Rob Bell, Kenneth Copeland, and sadly enough Billy Graham, a man I once had tremendous respect for. He denies the exclusivity of Christ and I can no longer say he is orthodox in his teachings.

The best way to avoid false teachings however is not by studying them, although an informed knowledge is always beneficial. By studying what the scriptures say and by having a deep knowledge of God’s revealed plan, it becomes easy to spot a heretic. Make sure you are drinking deeply from the Word!!

My first memories of church were of being in a nursery and being rocked by a kindly old maid named Myrtle. She had jet black hair (which she kept until the day she died.) She was a fixture in the nursery for as long as I can recall.

Preaching was in a sanctuary that was nearing the end of its usefulness. Having been built in the early 1920s, parts of it had plaster that was falling from the walls. It was actually the third sanctuary built by the church. There was no air-conditioning in that building and it was common for the big windows to be opened and for people to fan themselves with paper fans on wooden sticks always provided by the local funeral homes. It wasn’t unusual for the members in attendance to be distracted by one or more yellow jackets that managed to find their way inside. Double Springs has always had a problem with yellow jackets and few years pass without someone happening on a nest, normally with painful results.

Men wore suits. In recent years, in most churches, worship attire has become less formal. It is the norm to see men wearing khakis or even jeans and a pull over three button up shirt. Many of them wore fedora style hats which they placed on a hat rack in the vestibule before entering the sanctuary.

Women always wore dresses. Pants suits were still several years away from being fashionable and even when they did, it was still many years before the women would dare wear them to church, especially on a Sunday morning. It just wasn’t done. Many of the older ladies wore hats and white gloves.

The Kings James Bible was always used. Most of the well-known modern translations did not exist yet, or had not been widely adopted so all scripture reading was full of thee and thou and thus sayeths. The morning prayer was always offered up in King James language. It never struck me to wonder why in those days, but we didn’t speak that form of English. Why did we pray in it? Even so it seemed more majestic than many of the prayers you hear now. Some of them seem a little too far in the informal and the familiar. Of course it is the heart of the person praying, not the nature of the words.

A new sanctuary was opened in the early 1960s and the old one pretty much abandoned except for Vacation Bible School and other assorted activities. This new sanctuary featured a stunningly beautiful painting on the wall behind the baptistry. In the painting, there was a lush grassy bank with a refreshing shade tree beside a gentle river that vanished toward the distant mountains. I spent many a Sunday just staring at that painting wishing I was sitting under that tree. It just looked so calm and relaxing.

Prayers were still offered up in fine King James style English. Since, to my shame I never paid much attention to them, I amused myself by pressing my eyes tightly shut until I saw those funky twisting screen like patterns. I also found a way to amuse myself during the sermon. There were high intensity spotlights in the ceiling. I would stare at them for a while, until a blind spot appeared in my vision. I would then put the blind spot over the preacher’s head so it looked like we had a headless preacher. Silly, yes I know.

As it remains today, Wednesday night was an important time in Baptist life. My earliest memories were being in something called Sunbeams although I can’t recollect what the focus of it was. I suspect missions because Southern Baptists have always emphasized mission efforts. There was also Celestial Choir where we learned such standards as “Jesus Loves Me” and “Deep and Wide”. There were hand motions to accompany “Deep and Wide”. I have yet to determine what this song is really about. I have always believed it is about God’s Grace but the lyrics are quite nebulous.

In later years, we went to youth choir and to RAs. After all the activities were over we would often play freeze tag on the front lawn of the church.  Or we would go down and to the creek and hunt for salamanders and crawdads. Sometimes we would dam up the creek and see how long it would hold. Usually not long. We also went up a big hill above the creek to the playground where there were swings and a see saw. Legend had it that a kid once swung so high he went over the top. I’m sure there was no truth to it, but it made a good story in any event.

 In colder months when it got dark earlier, we would dare one another to go into the graveyard. We would see who could go the farthest without getting scared. The bravest souls could go all the way to the “Witch’s Grave.” It was in the back corner of the cemetery and I suspect it was called as such due to a primitive carving on the tombstone that looked like a witch’s face. I’ve never heard a definitive reason for it though. In any event it just seemed spookier than all the other graves.

One of the yearly highlights was Vacation Bible School. back in those days VBS was a little less high-octane and multimedia than it is now. It always began with us lining up to march into the sanctuary. A boy was chosen to carry the American Flag, and the Christian Flag. A girl was chosen to carry the Bible. Once we marched in, we would stand at attention and say the pledges to both flags and the Bible. The preacher would bring a brief message and then we would be dismissed to our individual classes. We would have an hour and a half or so of lessons, then we would go downstairs for refreshments. Normally the refreshments would be kool-aid and peanut butter soda crackers. Occasionally we would have fancy cookies. I remember windmill shaped cookies and what a big deal it seemed like to get one.

After refreshments we would return to our classes for craft time. A typical craft included a cigar box, gold spray paint, glue, and macaroni and cheese. Once we had a piece of plywood with an outline of a church on it. We were given all assortments of dried beans, peas, and rice to glue on the board. I remember it seemed like a lot of fun at the time.

The highlight of VBS was always a big church-wide picnic and dinner on the ground. It seemed like there was one extremely long row of picnic tables filled with dish after dish of wonderful homemade food. Country women have always been the best cooks. And they had tin tubs filled with ice and Coca-Colas in glass bottles. They never tasted so good. It was truly one of the highlights of the year in church life.

Most years we had a week-long revival. A visiting preacher would come in and preach a sermon each night. On the last night of the revival, we would have to sing all six verses of “Just As I Am” ten times or more as the line of churchgoers wanting to repent and rededicate their lives to Christ or to make a profession of faith to be followed by believer’s baptism could be quite long. It was during a spring revival that I made a profession of faith. I still struggle with the genuineness of that profession. I bore no fruit for many years.

One thing that I always hated was the time between Sunday School and preaching. It was because in those days most men smoked and the area right in front of the church looked like a Grateful Dead show. Fortunately that has died out and no one lights up at church anymore.

As I grew up I attended all the youth activities. We had Bible study. We played softball, ate pizza, went on trips to Carowinds on occasions and once an overnight trip to Six Flags that saw absolute mayhem during the night.

As I graduated from high school and went off to college, my participation in church at DSBC diminished. For years I attended only sparsely, convinced that being in my late twenties then early thirties and being single made me somewhat of an outcast. I would occasionally be cornered by some busybody old woman who wanted to know when I was going to get married. I hated that and avoided church for that reason.

Once I did get married, my wife and I began attending regularly and found that we grew in our walk so much by fellowshipping with others and by hearing the preaching of the word. In 2000 we moved from North Carolina to Alabama and began attending and later joining Morningview Baptist Church. We love MBC and we cherish all the friends we have made there. But it’s nice to go back home and get a warm welcome back at DSBC. We still love that church!!!!!!

This morning authorities arrested 62 year old Harvey Updyke for poisoning the 130 year old live oak trees at Toomer’s Corner. If you don’t know what Toomer’s Corner is let me quickly explain. It sits at the intersection of College and Magnolia Streets in Auburn Alabama. It gets its name from Toomer’s Drugs which sits on the opposite corner. When an Auburn athletic team scores a big victory, the fans shower the trees with toilet paper. Lots of it!!! It is one of those unique traditions that makes Auburn University unique.

Mr. Updyke allegedly used a powerful herbicide in lethal concentrations, then later called the Paul Finebaum show to brag about it, using the name “Al from Dadeville”. His motivations supposedly have something to do with his rooting interest in the Crimson Tide of Alabama. It has also been said that he did it in retaliation for Auburn fans rolling the corner on the day Bear Bryant died (of which there is no credible evidence) and for someone placing a Cam Newton jersey on the Bear Bryant statue outside of Bryant-Denny Stadium in Tuscaloosa.

People not living in the midst of the Auburn/Alabama rivalry would be hard-pressed to understand how intense it can be. Their annual football game is a more important day than Christmas in the state. Passion runs deep. I have even been defriended on Facebook by an individual who made very derogatory statements about Auburn University as a whole then got called out by myself and others. Apparently he just couldn’t take any criticism directed at him or the Tide. I thought at the time that it was childish and I still do, but that is what this rivalry does to people.

I moved to Alabama in the fall of 2000. I hadn’t lived here two days when I was asked what side I was going to take. I figured I had two options. Be miserable or join in the fun. I chose the fun. I chose Auburn because my wife preferred Auburn and because I used to sort of root for Clemson. Auburn and Clemson are a lot alike so it wasn’t hard to choose a side.

On the eve of the first Iron Bowl, I was in the grocery store and everyone was wearing team colors. Many of them hollered at each other good-naturedly “Roll Tide” or “War Eagle.” It seemed to be mostly in fun and everybody was having a good time. Of course I wasn’t nearly as emotionally invested then as I am now.

As the years passed, the rivalry seemingly got uglier and uglier. The comments I would hear would contain more and more vitriol with each passing year. Of course Alabama is a proud program with a storied history. For much of the 2000s Auburn owned them winning six consecutive Iron Bowls. Alabama struggled with one coach after another even firing one before he ever coached his first game. He was guilty of moral impropriety. The level of frustration mounted for the Tide faithful.  Mike Shula was fired and Nick Saban was hired.

Coach Saban had been successful at Michigan State and at LSU before an ill-advised jump to the pros. Given the chance, he returned to the SEC to take the reins. Saban was instantly welcomed as a hero and the guy who would turn things around and right the ship. He has met those expectations well, going undefeated in the regular season for two of his four years and adding another National Championship to the trophy case.

Meanwhile at Auburn, longtime coach Tommy Tuberville was sent on his way. Gene Chizik was hired as his replacement to almost unanimous bewilderment. However he proved himself to be capable as well going undefeated and winning the National Championship in only his second season on the Plains. Instead of a buffoon, he now seems like a genius and the fan base just about universally loves him.

Along the way this past season questions arose concerning Auburn’s eventual Heisman Trophy winner and all everything quarterback Cameron Newton. Allegations surfaced that his father Cecil Newton had shopped him to Mississippi State, attempting to extort $180,000. No evidence has heretofore been discovered that there was any sort of wrongdoing at Auburn University or that the younger Newton had any knowledge of his father’s activities.

Tide fans never need much of a reason to heap scorn on Auburn. The converse is true as well. For weeks at a time, the scandal or controversy dominated sports talk radio in the state with many of the fringe elements who regularly call those programs going to unheard of extremes in their denunciation of the Barn, as they derogatorily call Auburn University.

When Auburn made an unprecedented comeback in the Iron Bowl, rallying from a 24-0 deficit to defeat the Tide on their home turf 28-27, it was just another vicious reality check. See the Tide started the season ranked number one and held onto that spot until a Saturday afternoon in Columbia, South Carolina saw Steve Spurrier’s Gamecocks virtually end the Tide’s dreams of back to back championships.

The Tigers went on to crush the Gamecocks in the SEC Championship game and then defeat a tough Oregon team in the BCS National Championship game. It was more than many Alabama fans could stomach. They had lost three games in the season and then watched their rival play on the stage they had believed in their hearts would again be theirs.

Now I am of course calling out the fringe elements. You know the type. They did not to go to school at the school they have chosen to identify with, have no interest in the school other than the football team, and do not support the university in any sort of tangible way other than buying an occasional tee shirt. Many of them are uneducated and are the loudest of the fan base. Lest you think I am throwing rocks only at Alabama, Auburn has those type elements as well. I am fearful that one of those unknown nut cases will launch a retaliatory strike in Tuscaloosa. I hope that never comes about. I may root against their team, but I respect the traditions that the University has established.

Mr. Updyke is that element. Listen, I go to church and worship with quite a few wonderful Alabama fans who I cherish and value. The ones I have heard from express sorrow and outrage at what has happened at Toomer’s Corner. I choose to believe that 99% of both sides fan base will fall into that category. Mr. Updyke does not. He has visited shame upon the University of Alabama by association.  His actions, which might be understandable if he were 19 or so, are not those of a mentally stable person in control of their faculties. But neither is he not guilty by reason of insanity. His actions have also proven it was a deliberate pre-meditated act of extreme malevolence.

Some of the less sensible people who have called the radio shows today have said “what is the big deal? It’s just a tree.” Let me tell you what the big deal is. I heard this analogy made. When someone burns the flag we don’t react in anger to the burning of a piece of cloth.  It is what that piece of cloth represents, the ideals, and the values. The same with the Toomer’s Corner trees. Those trees and that place are so much identified with Auburn and the traditions of the school that it was not only an ecological crime which may result in numerous federal charges, it was a desecration of the very things that the War Eagle nation loves and cherishes.

Will this get worse? I hope not, but I am also not optimistic. I can’t blame everything on the rivalry. In the past decade there has been an alarming increase in general nastiness. Internet message boards allow all sorts of outrageous comments to be made behind the cloak of anonymity and lack of accountability. Democrats hate Republicans. Republicans hate Democrats. Georgia and Georgia Tech still hate one another and Duke and North Carolina are close to being just as ugly of a rivalry as the Tide/Tigers.

Ironically this act of hatred may have done more to unite the two sides than anything before. Here’s hoping both sides reject the fringe elements and let them know they are not welcome. And if Mr. Updyke, after receiving his due process under the law is convicted of this, I hope he gets punished to the full extent that the law allows. He deserves it. And we as fans, no matter who we cheer for, deserve better.

Oh my soul is weary and I cry out.
Give me rest. Give me peace. Refresh me so that I might finish the race.

David Howell passed away five years ago yesterday. I still miss him just as much as ever. I’m not going to write a long drawn out post about his life because I couldn’t do that. Just wanted to acknowledge that even though he is gone I still miss him and even laugh some now when I think of him hollering at Brent Musburger in Atlanta. “Hey Musburger!!! Why don’t you get yourself a job you can handle…like calling TV rasslin’.”

Saturday morning was and is a great time to be a kid. No longer fettered by the ritual of getting up early for school, we would get up for a better reason. Saturday morning cartoons. This was back in the 1960s and 1970s, before the advent of cable TV and cartoons being on several channels 24 hours a day and seven days a week. That made Saturday morning special for reasons that it no longer is.

But cartoons weren’t the only thing shown on Saturday’s that I looked forward to. Once cartoons went off at noon and after lunch, wrestling came on. Now understand this was in a more innocent time. No one had ever heard tell of Vince McMahon or the WWE. Wrestling still existed under the guise and pretense (kayfabe) of being real. Of course everyone knew that it wasn’t but it was easy enough to suspend your disbelief for an hour or so while the heroes (or faces) and heels did weekly battle.

Before you think we were just a bunch of uncultured hillbillies, keep in mind that I grew up in the rural South. Back in those days nearly everyone watched wrestling. It was a clean program that was by and large kid friendly and meant to be a distraction. There wasn’t the stigma back then of being a wrestling fan that there is now.

Back in those days wrestling was organized under what was referred to as the territorial system, under the authority of the National Wrestling Alliance. Various promoters around the country put on matches exclusively in given areas of the country. They cooperated with one another by universally recognizing a World Heavyweight Champion who would travel around to the various promotions, wrestling in a series of close matches designed to make the local talent look good and thus generate interest.

The area we were in was the territory of Jim Crockett Promotions later known as the Mid-Atlantic area. Each Saturday we could see two different wrestling programs on TV. One of them came on at 1:00 on Channel 4 out of Greenville, SC and was hosted by Bob Caudle. This program was actually taped in Raleigh. The other was shown on Channel 3 out of Charlotte and featured Big Bill Ward as the host. The same wrestlers appeared week in and week out on both shows but in different matches.

When I first began to see TV wrestling there were a lot of tag team matches. Some of the face teams I remember back from that day were Johnny Weaver and George Becker, the Flying Scott Brothers,  and Paul Jones and Nelson Royal. A few heel teams I recall were the Masked Bolos, the Minnesota Wrecking Crew (Ole and Gene Anderson), Rip Hawk and Swede Hanson, Aldo Bogni and Bronco Lubich, and Skull Murphy and Brute Bernard.

One notable feud was between Weaver/Becker and the Masked Bolos. It seemed like nearly every Saturday Johnny Weaver would get one of the Bolos in a sleeper hold and then try to get the mask off. Several times he almost had it off, but fate would intervene at the worst possible moment and spare the masked wrestler the indignity of having his face exposed  for all to see. Then I was sure that the following week, Johnny Weaver was sure to unmask not just one but both Bolos. It was never to happen.

Around 1970 or so Jim Crockett Promotions decided to deemphasize tag team wrestling and emphasize the singles match. George Becker retired from wrestling (or moved on) and Johnny Weaver easily made the transition to the singles format. He had several submissions holds in his arsenal including the sleeper hold, the figure four leglock, and the Johnny Weaver roll.

Rip Hawk and Swede Hanson parted ways and got involved in a horrible blood feud with one another.

Johnny Valentine, a notable heel, wrestled on most Saturdays for a bounty of 2000 silver dollars. If you could beat Johnny the money was yours. Once mid card face wrestler Danny Miller had him in the chicken wing and I was sure the money was forfeit. But time expired before Johnny would give up.

A new masked wrestler came to town, the Super Destroyer. He was the first wrestler I ever saw use the Claw Hold. Once he applied it, that was it. Lights out!! And he was the first heel wrestler I ever openly rooted for. By this time I had realized how much a farce wrestling was and made it more fun by rooting for some of the bad guys. A few years later Baron von Raschke showed up and used the same finishing move. Blackjack Mulligan also had a devastating claw.

When I was in 8th grade something happened that would change the landscape of professional wrestling forever. One of the “young lions of professional wrestling” made his debut. Nature Boy Ric Flair hit town, originally described as a cousin to the Anderson Brothers. He was loud, flamboyant, and a horrible braggart. He was the greatest heel to ever wrestle for Jim Crockett Promotions. He had epic feuds with Ricky Steamboat, Wahoo McDaniel, and Johnny Weaver.

Not long after Ric Flair came to the area, he was a victim of a plane crash. Johnny Valentine was also in the plane and never wrestled again. Flair was told his career was over but he was back within a year and was his usual mouthy self. Of course he went on to win the World Heavyweight Championship on numerous occasions and eventually wound up in Vince McMahon’s stable before finally retiring just a few years ago.

Some of the greatest heels from that era were The Masked Superstar, Blackjack Mulligan, and especially Ivan Koloff. These days the “Russian Bear” as he was called is a Christian evangelist. He is one of my Facebook friends and posts scripture daily.

The Royal Kangaroos were always worth watching. They were Lord Jonathan Boyd and his distinguished cousin Norman Frederick Charles III. They’d come into the ring wearing capes and bushwhacker hats and proclaim loudly in their distinctive Australian accents. “We’re fightin’ for the Queen against you dirty Yanks.” Of course when the referee wasn’t looking (which was most of the time) one would hand the other a boomerang. They’d make good use of it as the foreign object and of course neatly dispose of it before the referee ever saw it. Classic heels and always fun.

A few faces worth mentioning from that period were Mr. Wrestling, Tiger Conway, Jr., Bearcat Wright, Rufus R. Jones, Wahoo McDaniel, and the Mighty Igor.

Greatest among face wrestlers was Jack Brisco. I first became acquainted with him from Championship Wrestling from Florida. Brisco was an amateur champion who had a lot of actual wrestling skill. He could slug it out when needed, but he may well have been the best pure technical wrestler that has ever graced the square circle. Brisco had a series of epic matches against champion and legend in his own right, Dory Funk, Jr. Eventually Jack Brisco won the Belt, although he won it from Harley Race whom Funk had dropped it to earlier. Jack just died this past year.

As the 1980s rolled around, I began to lose interest in wrestling. It began to get a little more outrageous. Vince McMahon’s World Wrestling Federation ascended with Hulkamania. Eventually Jim Crockett Promotions became World Championship Wrestling owned by Ted Turner, then after a run of about a decade fell to Vince McMahon.

Nowadays wrestling bears little resemblance to what I enjoyed in the past. Many of the old school wrestlers were just physically big men who got by on natural athleticism and toughness. You never saw any of the muscled up physiques like you see now. Valets did not exist and there certainly weren’t women parading around with next to nothing on. Profanity and vulgarity were not a part of the “sport.” Good guys were good because they followed the rules and bad guys were bad because they cheated. There wasn’t any moral ambiguity back then. When someone switched sides they usually played according to type.

I do miss the simple more innocent times. I can’t allow my own children to watch Vince McMahon’s WWE. But I have let them watch some matches from long ago that are shown on ESPN classics. Now if I can just convince my son that putting his sister in the Cobra Clutch is not a good thing….

]]> http://theworldofmojo.wordpress.com/2010/10/05/growing-up-remembrances-episode-1-professional-wrestling/feed/ 0 Mr. Mojo http://theworldofmojo.wordpress.com/2010/08/24/the-whole-auburn-vs-alabama-thing/ http://theworldofmojo.wordpress.com/2010/08/24/the-whole-auburn-vs-alabama-thing/#comments Tue, 24 Aug 2010 21:07:03 +0000 theworldofmojo http://theworldofmojo.wordpress.com/?p=488 ]]> It’s that time again. In a few short weeks, college football will kick off and the pent up anticipation will be unleashed full fury in Bryant-Denny Stadium in Tuscaloosa, in Jordan-Hare Stadium in Auburn, and in front of television sets all over the state. If you don’t live in the state of Alabama you can’t possibly imagine just how much hoopla, hype, and hubris go along with the playing of a college football game.

 I’m a native of North Carolina and lived there the first 40 years of my life. The only thing that compares to the Auburn vs. Alabama rivalry that I know of is the UNC vs. Duke rivalry in college basketball. It comes close, but even it falls short of the unbridled passion felt for college football in the Heart of Dixie.

 If you move here, as I did, you are expected to choose a side. It is just a part of life here and if you choose to try to ignore it, you’ll end up being miserable and be branded a party pooper. (If you move here and were already a fan of another SEC major team such as Georgia, Tennessee, or Florida that does seem to be tolerated.)

 When I moved here ten years ago, Alabama was struggling with Mike DuBose as a coach and fell far short of the mighty expectations placed upon them by the Crimson Nation. DuBose was fired, and Dennis Franchione hired. He stayed there for two years before bolting to Texas A & M. Next they hired Mike Price, but an unsavory inclination for questionable behavior saw him sent packing before he ever coached a game. Mike Shula was up next and proved to be in over his head. Finally they righted the ship by canning Shula and hiring the controversial Nick Saban, a proven winner.

During much of this time, Auburn under the leadership of Tommy Tuberville, owned their in-state rivals, winning six straight Iron Bowls much to the horror of the Crimson Tide nation and to the delight of the Auburn nation. Understand if you don’t already know this, Alabama is the more storied of the two programs. Auburn has traditionally been a good program, but largely existed in the shadow of their chief instate rival.

 Alabama claims to have won 13 national championships, the latest being this past football season. Auburn people scoff at this. At least five of the national championships are the creation of a former Alabama sports information department. Auburn claims one championship from 1957, and several perfect seasons, the last time in 2004 when they were denied the chance to play for the National Championship due to having played a division 1AA opponent in that year.

 Much of Alabama’s historical success comes from having been coached for decades for legendary coach Paul “Bear” Bryant. On the other hand Auburn generally points to their two Heisman Trophy winners, Pat Sullivan and Vincent Edward “Bo” Jackson.

 The rivalry is a lot of fun among reasonable people. I will have to say that the majority of the fans are reasonable. But just as in anything else there are some idiots on both sides that want to take it to the extreme and ruin it for everyone.

 Right now much of the bluster and over the top trash talking comes from the Alabama (or bammer) side of the fence. This is my comment for you:

 Quit believing your team is invincible and will never lose another game for all of eternity. Remember the Bryant years were good to you, but you didn’t win every game then and you will lose some in this era too.

 Quit placing Nick Saban on the same level as God. He’s just a man. I’ll admit that he is a good football coach, maybe one of the two or three best in the business today, but he is nothing more than a man doing a job. Even I admit to a lot of closet admiration for him, but let’s keep things in perspective.

 Get over the Bear Bryant worship. Yes Coach Bryant is a legend, but he passed away nearly 30 years ago and you guys have been in the wilderness most of that time except for a great season under Coach Stallings and of course the last two years.

 Lose the smug superiority thing. You act like it is your birthright to be a winner. That is not the case. When your team wins, I can assure you that wins comes from a lot of sweat and hard work during the week and summer two a days. It is not a case of manifest destiny or divine right. And quit believing things like Auburn needs to know their place. I nearly hit someone once who got on that subject.

 Don’t scream that rammer jammer cheer at my kids. As adults it is cool, but have enough respect for yourself that you don’t yell it at my kids or someone else’s kids. For that matter while I am on the subject my family got yelled at in Gatlinburg of all places by a couple of drunken bammers hollering “we just beat the hell out of you.” Yes you won that game, but you didn’t exactly beat the hell out of us. I guess you guys thought you were some big something scaring two small children and teaching them how not to be good sports.

Quit acting like it will kill you to say anything nice about the Auburn Tigers. When you refuse steadfastly it makes you look arrogant. No one likes arrogance.

And lastly, if your team wins, have enough sense not to wear a team shirt to church the next morning. Sunday night or Wednesday night is different because the services are far less formal, but when you wear a team shirt to Sunday morning worship it just makes you look like an idiot. And if you must do some trash talking, keep it to a bare minimum. Remember church is to worship the risen Savior, not Nick Saban.

 If I am offering criticism of the Bammers, it is only fair to offer some to the Aubs.

 Be realistic. We are not going to go undefeated this year. Remember we are in the second year of a rebuilding. We all liked what we saw last year, but we will lose some games and we will likely lose our third straight Iron Bowl. If we finish 9-4 this year that would realistically be a good year for us. 

Have some intelligence about Gene Chizik. Remember a good number of you rolled your eyes when he was hired. Because we stated off the year 5-0 and unexpectedly went 8-5 last year you are ready to anoint him as the next Pat Dye. I’m hoping that he is just the ticket for the Auburn program, but he doesn’t have a long enough tenure as head coach to properly evaluate. 

Realize that success on the football field is predicated on more than just beating Alabama. If we beat them but lose every other game, we are just a pathetic 1-10 team that played one good game. Our goal should be to win the National Championship. Of course we have to beat Alabama to do it, but we also have to beat Arkansas, Mississippi State, LSU, Ole Miss, and Georgia every year. 

Give Saban some credit. It just sounds like sour grapes when you mouth off about all of his supposed character flaws. He runs a great program and you know it. Acknowledge that and quit whining. It is unbecoming to act jealous and that is exactly what some of you do. 

This can be a fun season. Everyone is undefeated right now and full of hope. Let’s show maturity and sportsmanship toward each other. When we win it’s okay to feel good, but if we lose let’s do the sporting thing and congratulate the other side. Let’s keep this from getting ugly.

Finally, I’m guilty of some of these criticisms. I’m going to try and take my own advice this year.

As you reached the intersection there was a filling station on the left and if you took a left turn just a little ways down the road was the pride and joy of the city of Lattimore. The Number 7 township volunteer fire department. It may have been (and still is) one of the finest volunteer fire departments in the whole state (or at least the county).

If you took a right you passed by Bell’s Antiques and Horne’s Supermarket. If you kept going you passed by the Lattimore Woman’s Club building and then the road took a sharp curve before you come to set of railroad tracks.

In that curve was an old two-story brick building that held both the  Martin Milling Company store and the Lattimore Barber Shop.

The barber shop was for the most part a one man operation run by a country barber named Don. He was a barrel chested man with sideburns, a ruddy complexion, and dark wavy hair that he combed back and cemented into place with a generous helping of Brylcreem. He always wore a white barber’s smock .

Before you get the idea that I’m borrowing a page from the Andy Griffith Show, let me reassure you I’m not. This was no Floyd’s Barber Shop where two or three regulars were sitting around reading the paper and drinking orange soda. For one thing, in those days the majority of the men were smokers and there was always a haze in the air as a result of someone puffing on a cigarette. Nowadays we know better than that and no one would dream of going to a barber shop where a bunch of men sat around and smoked.

The barber shop was a clearing house for news. Mostly the kind you could not read in the paper or see on the evening news. Mostly the “real story.” While the paper was reporting that a local county commisioner was stepping down to spend more time with his family, at the barber shop you could find out the truth, that he got caught with the chairman of the board of deacon’s wife from the local Baptist congregation and his wife made him quit the county commission or she would take him for everything he was worth in the divorce settlement. This was verified and certified to be true by someone who knew someone who knew someone who knew the wife.

There could be spirited debate at any given time. Nothing would stir the passion of the men sitting around waiting for a haircut more than the impending election of the high sheriff. The sheriff was always referred to by simply his first name. Sheriff Haywood Allen was the high sheriff when I was growing up, but everyone just referred to him as “Haywood.” No need  to say more. Everyone knew who “Haywood” was. The next county over had a legendary lawman, Sheriff Damon Huskey. Naturally he was known as simply “Damon.” A movie was once made about Damon entitled “Rutherford County Line.” It would be hard to say whether Haywood or Damon was the more frequent topic of conversation.

Talk could get a little bawdy at times, and I suspected that when young impressionable ears were not around that the talk could get downright filthy. I distinctly remember the subject of “Dolly” coming up more than once and the dopey grins the men had on their face as they shot each other knowing glances. Occasionally an argument would break out as to whether she should have left Porter Waggoner. I think history settled that one.

There were frequent times of levity there too. Once Barber Don hired another barber named Norman. He was something of a joker and he liked to repeat things he had heard on episodes of Hee Haw, especially if Archie Campbell had told it. More than once I got to hear the “Pie Are Square, Cornbread are Round” joke. He loved to tell the Archie Campbell rendition of “The Pee Little Thrigs.” Norman thought he was funny. To tell you the truth I never really thought Archie Campbell was that funny. Norman even less so, but I usually laughed anyway.

Of course Lattimore being a small town meant that the values didn’t change as time marched on, at least for the established townspeople. Long hair for men started in the early sixties with the Beatles. It took eight to ten years for the young boys in Lattimore to adopt that hairstyle, but adopt it they did. Naturally this was considered a threat to Barber Don. He made his living cutting hair, not watching it grow. He would rail on and on about how “if God had intended ol’ so and so to have a daughter, then they’d have been born a girl.” And “Ain’t no youngun’ a mine ever gonna wear that hippie hair as long as I’m breathing.” And, “Any boy who would wear his hair long like a girl, must be one of them queers you keep hearing about.” And “I tell you what would straighten him out. Take ‘em out back and just beat the tar out of ‘em until they get that crap cut off.”

Barber Don would proudly proclaim that he only knew how to give one kind of haircut, a short men’s haircut. Actually since he did a lot of flat tops that would make two styles of haircuts total.

As I got older I quit going to Barber Don and started going to Bernie’s Barber Shop in Shelby. Bernie actually had hair touching his ears so he was a man who had come to grips with societal and fashion changes. Bernie’s seemed to be a little more family friendly. A woman would never have set foot into Barber Don’s shop, but at Barber Bernies, it was common for mothers to bring their young sons for a trim.

Barber Don kept his shop open for many years. I think he only retired in the last few years. I have no idea if his shop changed from when I was a boy. I suspect it had.  Some change is inevitable. I don’t want to leave you with a bad impression of him. He was a good man and very much in step with the times and the values those times represented. He was the type of man who folks would say “I think a right smart of him!”

There are very few old-time country barber shops left where you can go and get not just a haircut, but a close shave too. Nowadays you have to go to fancy places like Sportsclips. You do get to watch ballgames on big screen TVs while you get a haircut, but the whole thing just feels like something a marketing executive cooked up. The girls that cut hair are just employees and just as likely as not to still be working there from one haircut to the next, They aren’t owners and they don’t get a chance to run a business with a personality all its own. It’s sort of like going to Applebees. No different from one town to the next. All of commerce has become  corporate and profit driven. The Mom and Pop stores are all pretty much out of business and Barber Don has retired his scissors. That’s too bad.

Sometimes they would give us sticks to beat against each other, ostensibly in time with the music, but in reality it just sounded kind of chaotic. You see many young elementary school kids and rhythm are not yet friends. Once they gave us these plastic song flutes that cost our parents $1.99. That sound would make all the local dogs howl in protest. And then sometimes for the Christmas program some of us would get to ring bells, especially when we did the song Silver Bells.

This was also the sort of music class where we divided up into groups of three and sang “Are You Sleeping?” in rounds. Then we’d do it in French. Frere Jacques or however it is spelled. I’ll admit that even though it wasn’t too cool to like that kind of stuff that I actually did like it. I just didn’t tell anybody.

One day when music class rolled around, I was in a particularly foul mood. I don’t know why and if I did there probably wasn’t a good reason for it. So I chose not to sing along. You can get by with that in church, but not singing was not an option in music class.

When we were singing “Dixie.” I chose not to sing. I repent now of that sin. I should have sung, loudly, proudly, and with conviction. But I didn’t. I am so ashamed. Yes it is true what the Bible says: “there is none good, no not one.” (It may be surprising to some that a public school sponsored a singing of Dixie, but this was in a time and place where political correctness had not yet stained the fabric of our lives and we were free to have prayers before classes without fear of retribution or lawsuit. We actually did have a Jehovah’s Witness complain about a Christmas party once, but we all knew J’Dubs were going to hell anyway for believing in a false gospel so no one paid attention to him.)

Back to the story. My teacher was a petite lady named Miss Mayse. I was a small child and I was about the same size as her even then. She noticed my non-participation in the singing and inquired why I was not singing. Here is where I am really ashamed. I told her that “Dixie” was a redneck song and I didn’t sing redneck songs. I said it hatefully and with no respect to her as a teacher or an authority figure.

She bristled quickly at my insolence. I was invited to come with her back to our empty classroom. At this point it needs to be said that this was during the height of corporal punishment in the school system. It was a common occurence to be sitting in class reading only to have the silenced perforated by the staccato burst of a paddle striking an offender’s backside in quick intervals. The third one always seemed the loudest.

Miss Mayse was no exception. As soon as we got to her classroom, she got out her paddle, a pine board milled to have a handle on the end. Once, twice, three times she struck me. I snickered. Why was I laughing she asked. Because you aren’t strong enough to give a real paddling I told her, still snickering. Her face turned red with anger. My insult had undermined her authority and her ability to conduct discipline.

“Wait here,” she told me. She left the classroom and it seemed like in seconds she returned with Mr. Martin, a tall broad-shouldered African-American man who taught sixth grade math and science. I knew him well, and normally chose not to run afoul of his good graces.

“Miss Mayse tells me that you have a little bit of a problem with the way she gives paddlings,” he said. I gulped. All the bluster and sass vanished from me like my wife’s paycheck in a department store. (If you read this I love you honey.)

Mr. Martin administered three licks, each with more sting than the previous. How my butt hurt. Oh how it stung!! I cringe even now remembering  the force he delivered the licks with.

As soon as it began, it ended. Mr. Martin indicated that I needed to take a seat. That wasn’t the easiest thing since I was sure I had massive bruising, but I complied nonetheless. He hovered over me and spoke in a gentle, calm voice. “Maurice, he said. “I trust you will give Miss Mayse the respect she is due from now on.” He said it without a hint of anger or malice. He said it in such a way that I wanted to obey, not out of fear, but out of respect for him…and now for her as well. She had handled a situation in which she was openly mocked with wisdom and intelligence.

I was wrong in this situation. I was dead wrong. Never again did I disrespect a teacher in that fashion. Later, in high school, I stood up for what I perceived to be an injustice, but that was a different situation than this one. As time has passed I still feel shame over having behaved that way. I got what I deserved and I should have gotten worse. Miss Mayse was a wonderful young teacher who loved her students and taught with enthusiasm. I am so privileged to have had her as a teacher. And Mr. Martin as well. He calmly did the job that needed to be done and didn’t show a hint of anger. He was also the first teacher I had that would paddle boy and girl alike with no allowance being made. Up until that time, the girls never got paddlings, no matter what they did.

If I am making a point to this story it is only this: Respect those placed in authority over you. No good can ever come from disrespect. I am so sorry I treated that young teacher that way. She deserved better from me. I hope no one else has ever treated her that rudely since.