That’s how the cookie crumbles

I like to think of myself as someone who has a relatively healthy lifestyle, one that includes exercising regularly and maintaining a balanced diet. That said, when I burn enough calories during the course of a day, I like to treat myself.

Sometimes it’s frozen yogurt.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

Other times it’s raisin bread.

I’ve even been known to snarfle a Pop-Tart from time to time.

But when a cookie store opened just 467 steps from my front door – yes, I counted – it created one of the great challenges of my life. (I won’t name the store, but if you guessed Crumble Cookies you’re only off by one letter. That letter is “e” at the end of the word “Crumble.”).

Anyway, do I just act like it isn’t there, or do I go there every day, sniff the glorious smells emanating from the wide variety of delicious baked goods on display, give them all my money, and eat?

This is a debate I’ve had daily.

During its grand opening several months ago, I felt it was my duty as a citizen to show support for the new business in my neighborhood. The best way to do that, of course, was to buy something.

I had never been to any of their locations before – never even heard of them, to be honest – and had no idea what to expect. But when I entered, I was immediately drawn to a sugar cookie with pink icing. I’m not saying the cookie knew who I was, but it certainly appeared to recognize me as I gazed at it with a food-lust in my eyes.

The excitement was akin to finding a new kitten at a shelter – the biggest difference being that I’ve never wanted to eat a shelter kitten (or any kitten, for that matter).

So, I bought the cookie … and including the frosting, it was 600 calories.

That’s fine.

I’d eat half of it that afternoon (they’re quite large), and save the other half for the next day, thus staying within my calorie budget.

But then as I made my purchase and walked away with precious cargo in hand, I was compelled to bite into it. I can truthfully tell you the combination of warm sugar cookie and cold, pink-flavored icing (I’m calling it pink-flavored because I can’t definitively identify its deliciousness) was one of the greatest taste sensations of my life. Before I knew it, all 600 calories were gone.

So, I went back inside and ordered another one.

This would be one I would walk the 467 steps to my condo and save for later. But then I realized that later it wouldn’t be warm.

Therefore, I ate it … I had no choice.

That made 1200 calories I’d consumed in about three minutes, and there was no question that this new cookie joint was gonna cause me problems.

But I was able to justify it in my head.

Sure, it was a lot of calories, but I could counteract that by simply burning more calories than usual. Instead of walking my standard 20,000 steps per day (that’s roughly 10 miles if the FitBit mathemeticians are to be trusted), I would walk enough to cover the amount of sugar cookies with pink-flavored icing that I planned to eat.

Unfortunately, that meant I would have to up my step count to about 60 or 70,000 per day, plus do push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks and compete in a triathlon.

Seriously, I was addicted to these things.

A few weeks after the store opened, I was still going by there almost every day, never buying anything other than my beloved sugar cookies with pink-flavored icing, but buying enough of them to provide the owners with generational wealth. (They’re closed on Sundays, so that’s my recovery/sad day).

Finally – on an afternoon when I was feeling particularly bloated – my life of gluttony flashed before me in the form of a vision. And that vision was of me in a seedy hotel, sitting on the side of the bed wearing only whitey-tighties and one argyle sock, sobbing quietly as I noshed on a sugar cookie with pink-flavored icing.

It was then I knew I had to make some hard choices.

I could go full Jabba the Hutt and eat my way into oblivion, or I could show some self-discipline and consume them only on special occasions.

I’m happy to report that self-discipline has finally won out.

After reading several self-help books, working with a hypnotist, engaging in quiet contemplation and changing my walking route, I’ve been able to fight the urge to consume sugar cookies with pink-flavored icing on a daily basis.

It was never the cookie’s fault and I hold it blameless, but nonetheless I have decided that going forward it’s best that I only eat it on special occasions.

And I define “special occasions” as state and federal holidays, as well as anniversaries of major life events.

Oh, and days when I feel the need to eat a sugar cookie with pink-flavored icing.

Problem solved.

Stallions, Gamblers meet in another time, another place

BIRMINGHAM – So, why did tonight’s United States Football League game between the Birmingham Stallions and Houston Gamblers at Protective Stadium make me think about Matt Reeves’ The Batman and Zack Snyder’s Justice League?

Well, for starters, I’m a fanboy, and fanboys think about such things quite a bit. It’s who we are … it’s how we live.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

But also, there is a bit of a parallel if you’ll be kind enough to let me explain.

The Batman is brilliant. It’s gritty, set in the real world, and features characters who must rely on their wits, intelligence, and a bit of cool tech instead of superpowers. To me it’s the magnum opus of comic book movies and my favorite of the genre.

Justice League is also really good. In its world of heroes there are women with the power of gods, men who can fly, and monsters from another dimension. And Batman – he’s a human working with superhumans.

Both movies are enjoyable, even though they take place in different universes. In other words, Robert Pattison’s Batman does not exist where Ben Affleck’s Batman exists.

I see no point in even comparing them.

Keeping that in mind, let’s return to the subject of the Stallions vs. the Gamblers.

Tonight, the score was 33-28 in favor of Birmingham, and it was an incredibly fun game to watch. Fans of defense got to see a pick-6 by each team, and fans of offense saw 61 points and 622 total yards.

If you cheered for the Stallions, you cheered for J’Mar Smith’s two TD passes and 214 yards; the combined 136 yards and two touchdowns of receivers Marlon Williams and Osirus Mitchell; CJ Marable’s 76 rushing yards and score; and Tony Brooks-James 62 yards on just nine totes.

If you go to football games to be entertained, this was a good one to attend.

On June 29, 1985, however, the score was Birmingham 22, Houston 20, in a USFL playoff game at Legion Field. Jim Kelly (USFL Rookie of the Year and Player of the Year in 1984) was 33-40-1 for 319 yards and two TDs for the Gamblers, but Stallions’ kicker Danny Miller nailed five field goals to lead the home team to victory in front of 18,500 fans.

Jack Pardee coached the Gamblers, Rollie Dotsch guided the Stallions, and it was a big money league with big money players. Kelly, in fact, had signed a $3.5 million, five-year deal to come to Houston, and promptly threw for a record 5,219 yards and 44 touchdowns his first season. It was the second time I’d seen Kelly play live; the Gamblers came to town for an exhibition game in February of 1985, winning 20-10.

So, what does that USFL have to do with the 2022 USFL?

Nothing.

Kelly made $700,000 per season, $655,000 more than any “modern” USFL quarterback.

None of the current USFL players were alive when the original USFL played.

Birmingham coach Skip Holtz was at Holy Cross College and a year away from walking on at Notre Dame in 1985, while Houston boss Kevin Sumlin was a starting linebacker at Purdue.

Like The Batman and Justice League, the old USFL does not exist where the new USFL exists.

But you can still enjoy both.

I can stroll through my Fan Cave – glance at my game-used Joe Cribbs jersey and media guides from the 1983, 1984 and 1985 seasons – and relive memories of the best brand of pro football ever played in the Magic City. I doubt there’ll ever be another like it.

But now I can go to the Uptown and see another herd of Stallions. They aren’t the same as the ones that galloped at Legion Field nearly 40 years ago, but they’re still a pro football team that represents my city.

You certainly don’t have to compare them, and you can love one without hating the other.

And that’s what I choose to do, because sometimes I’m in the mood for The Batman and sometimes I’m in the mood for Justice League.

What can I say? I’m a fanboy.

Glorious Rickwood Field

Editor’s note: This story originally ran on April 2, 2022.

When I walked into Rickwood Field on Wednesday to watch the inaugural Rickwood College Classic baseball game between UAB and Birmingham-Southern, it marked the first time I’d been to “America’s Oldest Baseball Park” since June 4, 1998. That was the third year of the Rickwood Classic, an annual throwback game contested between the Birmingham Barons and another Southern League opponent.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

A quick bit of research shows that in this particular clash the Greenville Braves defeated the Barons, 12-8, before 6,873 fans.

That I didn’t remember.

What I do recall is that it was brutally hot that day, made even worse by the fact that I was wearing a heavy, old school New York Yankees baseball jersey (fans were invited to wear “turn back the clock” attire and the Barons had once been a Yankees farm club so, you know, I was trying to dress the part).

The uncomfortable heat, however, was no match for how cool it was to be inside this working museum.

It opened in 1910, so obviously it’s rich in sports history. And since Major League Baseball finally righted a wrong in 2020 and gave the Negro Leagues big league status, Rickwood Field is a major league park thanks to the Birmingham Black Barons (who started playing there in 1920).

That makes it even more exciting to claim the venue as a huge part of my history.

Fun fact: my first trip to Rickwood wasn’t as a spectator, but as a player. A member of the L.M. Smith School Cougars 70-pound football team, I was part of the squad that played a team called the Browns there in September of 1971. It wasn’t the Cleveland Browns, of course – that would’ve been a bloodbath – but rather some kids who wore orange helmets and white jerseys. When you think about it, they probably should’ve been called the Oranges.

Anyway, I was a scrub on that team (it would be a couple of years before I transformed from a scrappy young athlete with limited skills to a scrappy older athlete with limited skills) so my only playing time was on kicking teams. I never made a block or tackle, but I did inhale a lot of dust because our field was lined off on the infield, which had most recently been used by the Birmingham A’s.

And that leads me to my first visit as a spectator – although I didn’t get to actually see a game.

On May 15, 1975, the defending World Series champion Oakland A’s were slated to play their Southern League farm club at Rickwood, which was to be the first time I had ever watched a live game involving a major or minor league team. But lightning knocked out a bank of lights at the stadium, and inclement weather prevented the game from being played.

But, I got second baseman Phil Garner’s autograph, watched Reggie Jackson and Billy Williams take BP, and saw Vida Blue throw some pitches, so it was hardly a wasted trip.

On the drive home I mentioned to my dad how neat it was that I had played on the same field as those guys. When he told me it was also the former home of legends such as Willie Mays and Satchel Paige and had hosted everyone from Babe Ruth to Dizzy Dean, well, I felt downright special.

And why not? You should feel special at a place that’s always been a special place for you.

I saw UAB beat Alabama, 12-2, there on April 29, 1980, which was the first college baseball game I ever attended.

I watched the St. Louis Cardinals beat UAB, 7-2, in an exhibition on April 8, 1981, and was almost hit by Keith Hernandez’s two-run homer while perched in the right field stands. Fortunately, my flaming speed allowed me to run away while the ball banged against the aluminum seating a couple of times before being snatched by a youngster.

I was in the house on April 14, 1981, when the Barons were reborn after relocating from Montgomery; shook hands with the San Diego Chicken, aka Ted Giannoulas, after crashing into him while making a beer run during the Barons’ 1983 championship season; and even hung around for a post-game Beach Boys concert after meeting a young woman at a game, even though I have never at any point in my existence been a fan of the Beach Boys.

It all came back to me during the Classic. I watched it with good friend and BirminghamProSports.com guru Gene Crowley, who does a better job chronicling Magic City sports history than anyone. I even got to reconnect with another old buddy, Joe DeLeonard, who – along with the rest of the members of the Friends of Rickwood organization – helps keep this baseball cathedral up and running.

Gene indulged me as we walked through the facility and I pointed to seating areas I’d occupied and told tales of the good old days.

And the good old days at Rickwood always seemed great to me.

With UAB safely in front (the Blazers won, 10-4, jumping out to a 5-0 lead in the first inning), we wrapped up our visit at the on-site museum and gift shop. I got an up-close look at memorabilia from 42, Soul of the Game, and Cobb, movies which were filmed at Rickwood Field, and eyed some old seats from New York’s Polo Grounds, which were bought in 1964 and reused at the Birmingham stadium.

And even though a T-Shirt is the last thing I need, I snagged one with the Birmingham A’s logo and the phrase: “Rickwood Field 1967-1975.”

I think of it as a memento from the first baseball game I almost saw there.

I would’ve bought one that reads: “Cougars vs. Browns 70-Pound Football Game 1971,” but none were available.

I’m gonna pretend they were sold out of those.

For more information about Rickwood Field, go to rickwood.com.