Category: Stanglin Family (Page 15 of 26)

Live From Arlington

We made the right call, leaving Amarillo late last night and arriving at Gram’s new house in Arlington at about 3:45 this morning. The wind was raging at 30-40 mph from the north and we ran through a lot of snow between Clarendon and Childress. But after that, it was mostly rain. Talking to our friends back home, it sounds like it would have been impossible to try to make the drive today. I-40 is closed from Soncy on the west side of Amarillo all the way past the New Mexico state line and closed on the east side from Highway 287 to the Oklahoma border. You can’t get in or out right now.

GoliathFenceRight before we left, the winds tore down two fence posts and three fence panels in our driveway/back yard. I just left them there — didn’t even try. It was 24-degrees, the wind was blowing, it was dark. Ted. The way that garage area and driveway work, I’m sure the snow drifts have covered up the gaping hole.

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RandyGallowayIt’s good to be in Tarrant County today, to read the Fort Worth Star-Telegram and see my friend Randy Galloway’s last ever sports column. Randy has been writing and talking sports in Dallas – Fort Worth for 50 years. He was writing a daily column for the Dallas Morning News when I first began paying attention to sports. I was eight or nine years old, our family took the Dallas Times Herald, and I was reading Skip Bayless and Blackie Sherrod. I can’t remember when or where I first saw a Galloway column. I can’t remember what I particularly liked about it or why I began riding my bike to the 7-11 on Bruton Road to buy my own 25-cent copy of the Morning News so I could read him. But I do remember going out of my way to read Galloway.

When I started roofing houses with Glen Burroughs in the 8th grade, we listened to Galloway’s “Sports at Six” every evening on WBAP. Randy Galloway kept us entertained during the stretch run of those hot fourteen hour days on those roofs. He knew the players and the owners, he hung out in the locker rooms and clubhouses, he told great stories and painted vivid pictures. He wasn’t doing three minute sportscasts like Verne Lundquist and Dale Hansen, he was doing a three hour talk show! And I loved it. Brad Sham was my hero — I very much wanted to be the next play-by-play man for the Cowboys. But while Brad’s “Sports Central” show on KRLD was just as insightful and inside-ful as Randy’s, I always found Randy to be more entertaining. He told it like it was, just the way he saw it. And he wasn’t afraid to stir things up.

During the early stages of my mediocre radio career, I was blessed to meet Randy on the sidelines at Cowboys training camps and in the press box at Rangers games. He came on as a guest on my shows any time I ever asked. Always accessible. Always open. Always generous. Very generous. And supportive. Helpful. I felt like I had arrived when Randy Galloway knew me and called me by name.

My first official gig in Dallas radio was filling in for Chuck Cooperstein’s “Midnight Run” show on WBAP when he was doing NHL playoff games on national radio. Ted Sorrells got me that job and, a few months later, the interview with KRLD where I finally landed. The “Midnight Run” was the sports talk show right after Galloway’s. Sitting in the break room with Galloway and Ted in-between our two shows and sharing ideas about sports and life with this legend is a career highlight for me.

RandyGalloway2The moment Galloway became a friend, though, was about halfway through the 2003 Cowboys football season. I got myself into a fairly heated argument with Bill Parcells during a very public press conference following a Monday night game in Seattle. I was asking questions about a couple of two-point conversion attempts from the night before, Parcells was talking all around my questions, and I wasn’t getting the answer I needed. I pressed and, as Parcells does, he resorted to insults and name-calling and condescending behavior, questioning my football intelligence, my professionalism, and my motives. I was nervous to be in an argument with the coach of the Dallas Cowboys with all the recorders and cameras rolling. But I was there to do my job. My heart was racing as we went back and forth, but I held my ground. At one point in the proceedings, Parcells abruptly ended things, turned to Jennifer Engle, a Star-Telegram columnist, began to answer her question, and then sharply turned back towards me. “Did you get what you needed?!? Did you get your quote?!?” I said, “I’m not looking for a quote, Coach, I’m looking for a straight answer.” He snorted a final insult and our nearly four-minute exchange had concluded.

Immediately following the press conference, I was overwhelmed with reporters and cameramen congratulating me on standing up to the Big Tuna. You stood up to him! No one’s done that yet! You’re the first one!

I went to the locker room to interview a few players before leaving Valley Ranch for my own show that started at 3:00pm. And my media counterparts couldn’t stop talking about what had happened during the Parcells presser. I started to get nervous. Ric Renner told me he was going to air the whole thing from start to finish on Fox Sports Southwest. What had I done? Was this bigger than I realized? I remember getting into my truck and hearing Galloway’s voice on ESPN Radio taking my side and defending me and my actions in that press conference. Before I even got out of the Valley Ranch parking lot, he was already talking about it. He was replaying the audio from our “incident” and defending me. “I know Allan Stanglin,” he said. “Allan’s a good friend of mine. He was doing his job. He didn’t have any evil intent. He wasn’t trying to stir anything up. He was asking legitimate questions about inconsistencies in the coaching decisions during the game. This is all on Parcells.”

I’ve thanked Randy many times for that. It meant the world to me that he called me his friend and that he defended me and the way I went about my job.

Randy Galloway is a wonderful columnist, a terrific talk show host, and a fabulous human being. I consider it a great privilege to have worked with him and around him, a true blessing to know him. And an honor to call him a friend.

Peace,

Allan

Fleeing Goliath

GoliathStormOur family travel plans to DFW and OKC have changed a bit. Instead of leaving after church tomorrow, we’re leaving as soon as Whitney gets off work, at about 9:30 tonight, and heading down to Arlington. With winter storm Goliath a mere three or four hours away, we’re getting out while we can. Every church in the Texas panhandle has canceled Bible classes and worship assemblies tomorrow, including Central, and the predictions are calling for some roads and highways being closed in all directions. The winds are already gusting at over 50 miles per hour and the temperature is dropping. I hate leaving when the exciting weather is just now getting here. We’re going to miss potentially the third or fourth largest single snowfall in the history of Amarillo and all the craziness that goes with it. But we’ve got two Christmases and a wedding waiting for us down state. We gotta go.

Have everything dug out for us when we get back.

Peace,

Allan

Weekend Links

JohnnyFootball

Kevin Sherrington has written a truly horrible column explaining exactly why Johnny Manziel is destined to be a Dallas Cowboy. His facts are correct, his logic is sound, and I can’t find any fault with his disturbing conclusion. The last line of the column is wonderful. The rest of it may keep you awake tonight.

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My esteemed brother, Dr. Keith Stanglin, has written a piece on discipleship for the Austin Grad blog, Christian Studies. Using James’ and John’s request to sit at the right and left hand of Jesus in his coming Kingdom from the story in Mark 10, Keith breaks down the main reason so many of us want to follow the Christ from a distance. We want the glory without the suffering. We want to live a new life without suffering the death. We want to lose weight without giving up the Blue Bell. BlueBellLogo

Yes, he mentions Blue Bell in his article. Of course! He’s my brother!

By the way, the United Supermarket at 45th and Bell here in Amarillo, Whitney’s United, the one less than a mile from our house, will be selling Blue Bell ice cream beginning at 5:00 this Monday morning. The signs went up all over the store on Tuesday. Finally, Blue Bell is back in the panhandle! Carley and I are planning on showing up at about 4:45 to buy some of the first offerings and, yeah, eat ice cream for breakfast. It’s going to be like living in Texas again.

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I’m writing a faith column now for the Amarillo Globe-News. I’m in a rotation with four other guys, so my column will run once every five Saturdays. I haven’t written a regular newspaper column — is every five weeks regular? — since I was penning a weekly sports column for the Burnet Bulletin during the early 1990s. My first one here in Amarillo came out today.

Peace,

Allan

Home with the Blue Bell… Barely!

BlueBellChest

There was a short time — only for three or four months many, many years ago — back when I was still trying to get established in a full-time radio career that I worked a part time job as a courier in Dallas. I delivered very important packages all over Dallas/Ft.Worth, from business to business, time-sensitive documents, back and forth, criss-crossing all of North Texas. Every now and then, maybe a couple of times a week, I’d be handed something sealed up in an ice-chest to drive from one hospital to another hospital. And told to hurry.

Those strange and adrenaline-producing feelings came rushing back today, energizing all of my senses, as I packed the ice chest in the back seat and headed from Dallas to Amarillo. The precious and extremely time-sensitive cargo: one half gallon of Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream and one half gallon of Blue Bell Cookies and Cream.

A few of you were concerned enough about my mission to offer some very helpful advice by email and text. Thank you. Yes, I did pack the chest with ice last night and let it all get very cold for fifteen hours before I put the ice cream in there this afternoon. No, I did not use dry ice (too expensive and a little dangerous) nor did I put salt in the ice (maybe I should have). Yes, I wrapped both half-gallon cartons inside two plastic bags.

I only stopped once. I kept the inside of the truck as cool as I could stand it. I was in the truck for just under six hours. And when I got home, it looked like to me not one bit of the ice had melted. I felt really good about it. Until I started digging out the ice cream. The cartons were both a little mushy on the top and leaking out of the lid just a little. Just a little. But it all felt very, very soft.

Carrie-Anne is in Austin for a culinary arts training seminar, Carley is in Abilene for a girls church conference, and Whitney’s at work. And they’re all three texting me about the ice cream. How’s it going? Did it make it? Is it melted? Did it work?

I carefully opened up the cartons and stuck a spoon in the middle of each one. It was like sticking a straw into the middle of a really thick shake. I snapped a couple of pictures and sent them to the rest of the family. C-A responded with a crooked smile emoji. Carley sent back a really enthusiastic “If it can hold up a spoon, it’s solid enough!”

BlueBellMelt

She was right. Oh, my. So good.

I’m worried that we won’t ever see Blue Bell in Amarillo again. They’ve decided to cut back from distributing to 23 states down to a total of fifteen. Even after all four phases of the new rollout are complete, sometime next year, eight states won’t be on the list. Among those states that Blue Bell is permanently cutting off: Colorado and New Mexico. I’m scared that means bad news for those of us in the oft-forgotten hinterlands of our great state.

Today might have been a practice run for future ice cream bootlegging operations. I did learn a couple of lessons; I think I can do better next time. And while it may not be quite as important as running a kidney or a liver to a hospital for a potentially life-saving operation… it’s similar. Very similar.

Peace,

Allan

From Denver

DenverAirportThe very first time I ever flew in an airplane was with Carrie-Anne. We took off from the airport in Amarillo for Denver where we would connect to a flight to Las Vegas where we were married at 11:30 at night in the basement of the Clark County courthouse by sheriff’s deputy Sherrill Meyer. That was twenty five years ago.

Today, C-A and I have flown to Denver from Amarillo where we’re having breakfast at McDonald’s and waiting on our flight to Hawaii to celebrate the silver anniversary of that wild weekend in Vegas. Funny how things have come full circle over this quarter century together. The last time we were in this airport, we bought over-priced matching Denver Broncos sweatshirts: white with the old vintage Broncos logo helmet on the front. Why? We have no idea. We were young and in love and wanted matching shirts for some reason. Plus some souvenir, I guess, from our two hour stay in Denver.

Today, we’ve purchased matching egg sandwiches. We’re old and in love. Still in love. And looking very forward to spending the next ten days together in a wonderful place we’ve never been.

Thanks to Steve and Becky and Scott and Brenda for agreeing to check up on our daughters while we’re away. Thanks to Cortnie and Aleisha and Hannah for being such dependable friends and making sure our daughters don’t just sleep ’til noon and watch “Castle” re-runs all day long while we’re gone. And thanks to God above that B.J. is in Killeen for the next three weeks!

Peace,

Allan

Snow Day!

Well, our biggest snowman ever actually became the biggest and creepiest snowman ever. I was mainly the muscle for the project while Carley provided the artistic inspiration and interesting touches. As big as it is and as much snow is packed into that thing, I’m afraid I’ll be mowing around it in May.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Carley and I finished him up late this afternoon following our sledding adventure with the Dowells and the Schaffers and all their kids at Medi-Park. Nobody slid all the way into the pond a la It’s a Wonderful Life (“Not my sore ear!”) And I only plowed over one four-year-old kid while we were there. There’s nothing quite like screaming completely out of control down a steep hill with fifty other persons all around you, some of them quite large in their 40s and 50s, some of them quite tiny little pre-Kingergardeners, and every size and age in between. We didn’t lose anybody out there today. When everybody makes it home, it’s a good day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Peace,

Allan

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