Thankful for sports figures who inspire, simmering barbecue, crab fritters, family and friends

On Thanksgiving Day, I’m thankful for:

▪ The memories Jeff Gordon leaves us with as he pulls into the garage and turns off the engine. Wasn’t it just yesterday that he was a rookie with a bright NASCAR future?

▪ That time near sundown, when the shadows crawl across the grass and disappear, the breeze sighs and nods off and things grow quiet.

▪ Less than a year now before the presidential election is mercifully over.

▪ The smell of barbecue simmering under some old tree, of chicken frying in somebody’s kitchen, of coffee calling me out of bed, of peanuts roasting in a stadium, of hot dogs at the game, of pecan pie coming out of the oven, of pot roast flirting with my appetite.

▪ The Panthers’ Greg Olsen, Professional football player, with a capital P.

▪ The chance that the Panthers will make it to the Super Bowl.

▪ What sportswriting great Frank Deford said: “I have always thought that the prettiest golf courses are about the best that man and God can make together.”

▪ Tacos that taste great and wash right out of my shirts with stain remover.

▪ Books stores and libraries, where treasures await.

▪ Johnson C. Smith’s Steve Joyner: 29- years, 500 wins and counting. What I’d call a legend.

▪ College campuses on football Saturdays, excitement so thick in the air you can almost touch it.

▪ The chance, slim as it is, that Tiger Woods will find what he’s lost. The young ones are terrific, but I miss Tiger.

▪ Steph Curry’s game, beautiful, dazzling, like it’s lighted in neon.

▪ More good days are ahead for coach Steve Clifford and the Hornets.

▪ ”Blue Bloods,” “NCIS Los Angeles,” “The Mentalist” Fox’s pregame shows with Terry and Howie and them, “Friends” reruns, Feherty, cooking shows (shuddup).

▪ Ron Rivera. Phil Mickelson. Bob McKillop. Arnie. And guys like them.

▪ Summer nights at the ballpark, when homers are flying out and infielders are dancing baseball’s marvelous ballet, the double play.

▪ Songs you can sing in the shower and sound good, at least to yourself. Songs that make me want to slow dance. (Hey, I’ve still got a few moves. They just take a little longer.)

▪ School teachers.

▪ Pinehurst, where bogeys don’t matter as much.

▪ The first day at the beach.

▪ The LPGA’s Lydia Ko. Cool name, hot golf.

▪ Sunsets, as Mother Nature whispers, “Watch this.”

▪ Crab fritters to start, followed by a big ol’ platter of seafood and hush puppies, washed down with sweet tea. Maybe a nightcap on the porch. (Burping is allowed, within reason.)

▪ Memories of my sportswriting days. The great Red Smith got it right when he said, “Sportwriing is the most pleasant way of making a living which man has yet devised.”

▪ The Masters, where golf throws back the curtain and springtime walks in, looking fresh and beautiful and full of promise.

▪ Beth and our family. In a life rich with blessings, these are my greatest. I’m a lucky guy.

▪ Friends.

▪ The Head Shop, where the day hits the brakes and takes time out for a haircut and some wisdom.

▪ Christmas carols. If you want to give me chills, let a children’s choir sing “Silent Night.” Funny thing. Every time that happens, I get something in my eye.

▪ The good, warm feeling of Thanksgiving Day.

This story was originally published November 25, 2015 at 5:00 PM with the headline "Thankful for sports figures who inspire, simmering barbecue, crab fritters, family and friends."