Sportsman of the Year

(Above: Bob with his daughter-in-law, Sarah)

Former Oakland Tribune sports editor Bob Valli, a grizzled vet who mentored generations of scribes, died on Nov. 2 at the age of 80. He started his career on the pigskin beat, later inking stories about hoopsters, keglers, horsehiders and thinclads.
But he would have hated those last two sentences. He despised clichés, especially sports clichés. Woe betide the sportswriter who called a football a "pigskin," a football field a "gridiron," an umpire an "arbiter" or a basketball player a "cager."
"If it's a basketball, call it a basketball!" he would roar. "Not a casaba!"
He was in love with the English language, and he liked it straight, without adornments or affectations. He was a great editor to work for, with an uncanny eye for young talent.
Award-winning sportswriters like Monte Poole and Henry Schulman got their first big break when Bob plucked them out of obscurity and handed them plum assignments. And they have never ceased acknowledging their debt to him.
With his gravely voice and authoritative manner, Bob was the picture of an old school, Oscar Madison-type sportswriter. But he departed from that cliché, too, in one important respect: Unlike many newspapermen of his generation, he was color-blind and gender-blind.
For instance, it wasn't easy being a woman in the newspaper business back in the 1980s, when I first met him. A lot of female reporters and editors felt the sting of resentment daily from the old boy network.
But never from Bob. He treated women with respect because he treated everyone with respect. He didn't know any other way. One female editor who worked with him said, "He was the sweetest man I ever met."
Bob's first assignment as a young reporter was covering a brand-new team called the Oakland Raiders, and he quickly earned every player's affection.
During practices, he would always sit on one particular spot on the sidelines. Once, when he was on vacation, his substitute sat down on that same spot.
The poor guy was immediately surrounded by angry Raiders, led by defensive back Dave Grayson, indignantly demanding to know what he was doing on "Bob's spot."
And could he write! Take his classic description of "The Play," the multi-lateral kickoff return that broke Stanford's heart in the 1982 Big Game: "Kevin Moen has silenced all arguments over which was the greatest Big Game ever played. The California senior started and finished one of the most bizarre last plays in college football history to make the 85th Big Game the undisputed thriller of all time." (And remember, he wrote this on tight deadline.)
Or this: "Steve Martin was acting when he played his role in 'The Jerk.' Billy Martin lived the part."
For many years, Bob was on the committee that selected members to the Pro Football Hall of Fame. It was he, more than anyone else, who was responsible for Al Davis' induction.
Bob was a loving husband, a devoted father and a loyal friend. And he knew more about football than anyone I ever met.
A few years ago, he and I were at Memorial Stadium watching a Cal game.
The Cal quarterback threw four interceptions that day, and each time - before he even let go of the ball! - Bob would say, "Uh oh, that’s gonna be an interception."
Same with penalties. Before the flag was out of the official's pocket, Bob would say, "Number 44 is holding."
Aside from the fact that it was fun to watch a game with one of the world’s nicest guys, it was a rare privilege to get an education from The Maestro.

No Room At The Inn?

(Above: Father Crespin greeting parishioners after Mass)

What do you do when the most popular family on the block looks like it's headed toward divorce?
It's really none of your business, so the best you can do is say a prayer that they somehow can work it out.
That's the situation my neighbors and I find ourselves in. But in our case, the "family" isn't a nuclear family. It's a church: St. Joseph the Worker in downtown Berkeley. It's the anchor of our neighborhood, even for non-Catholics like me.
The church has been at the center of whatever has been going on ever since its founding in 1877, from housing and feeding refugees fleeing the 1906 San Francisco earthquake to providing meeting space for labor organizers, peace advocates and civil rights workers including Cesar Chavez, who used St. Joseph's as a safe house whenever his life was threatened.
And I can't tell you how much I look forward every Sunday to walking by St. Joseph's just as Mass is letting out and watching all those happy people spilling out onto its front steps. It makes my day every time.
In recent years, St. Joseph's was run by Rev. George Crespin and the late Rev. Bill O'Donnell, known to one and all as Father Bill. They were a perfect tag team.
Father Bill did the social justice work, from lobbying for improvements in the public schools to getting arrested more than 200 times at anti-war and pro-civil rights demonstrations.
Meanwhile, Crespin did the pastoral work. He was the guy you could always count on for help when your mother was sick, or your sister was pregnant, or your nephew was in trouble with the cops.
In recent years, the ethnic makeup of the parish has become more and more Latino, as immigrants from Latin America settled in the area. And Crespin, who speaks flawless Spanish, was especially dear to them.
But time moves on. Father Bill died in 2004, and Crespin went into semi-retirement two years later, although still living in the rectory and performing priestly functions.
Two years ago, a new priest named John Direen was appointed to take over St. Joseph's. From the start, tension began simmering between him and some parishioners.
Among their complaints: firing the members of the pastoral council, suspending the council's Latino counterpart, the Consejo Latino, and withdrawing meeting space for the parish's long-standing social justice committee.
The final straw came last July, when he evicted Crespin from the rectory.
Since then, a sizable group of parishioners has been holding a silent vigil outside the church every Sunday morning.
Direen responded by announcing that the protestors would be barred from serving as ushers, lectors or Eucharistic ministers, as well as from serving on any parish committees.
And who knows where it will end? All I know is that St. Joseph's is a sad and lonely place to walk past these days.
There are no villains in this story. Both sides truly love the Church, even if they have different visions of what it can be. It's a clash of cultures made worse by mutual misunderstanding.
As I said, it's not my business to meddle in a family quarrel. But I can wish them peace and reconciliation this Christmas season.
There's an old Mexican tradition called La Posada that takes place at this time of year. People go from door to door, impersonating Joseph and Mary, and ask to be let in from the cold.
The first seven or eight houses always turn them away. But at the final house they are welcomed inside and given hot chocolate and Mexican bread.
And that's what I hope for St. Joseph's this Christmas. I hope everyone finds room at the inn.

Dear Santa

"Dear Santa, It's 7:37 on November 27th, 2011. I know it's early, but I don't think anyone will give me a Radica Password Journal. Please send me one in your jolly ol' ho-ho-ho spirit. Merry Christmas, Tai-Ge. P.S. Be jolly!" (Oakland)

"Dear Santa, I am sorry for the times I was bad, and that was a few times. I am sorry about my bad grades in science and history. Can I please have some presents anyway? Love, Heenapreet." (Fairfield)

"Dear Santa, My wish for Christmas still has not come. I demand an explanation! Please send my gift with four AAA batteries this week or I start taking out elfs! Sincerely, Disappointed." (San Jose)

Once upon a time, letters like these ended up in the post office's equivalent of Siberia instead of the North Pole.
But 25 years ago, Elma Ramiriez, Manager of Consumer Affairs for the Bay Valley Postal District, which stretches from Carmel to Napa, happened upon a pile of letters that were about to be thrown out, and they broke her heart.
"They were so touching, we just couldn't bring ourselves to throw them in the dead letter file," she said. "We thought, 'Somebody ought to answer them!'"
That first year, she and her co-workers answered as many as they could. But as word got around, other postmasters throughout Northern California started sending her their Santa letters, and it was clear she was going to need help.
So she turned to us, the public. And it's been a beloved Bay Area holiday tradition ever since
Ramirez retired last spring. But her successor, MaryGrace Cruz, is keeping up the good work.
Currently, she and and her fellow elves - Janet Ezell, Toni Harmon, David Thompson, Brenda Presley, Timothy Wong, Ferdinand Sutanto, Margarita Cristobal and Carmen Boueche and Nina Bopharat Tan - are sorting through piles of incoming letters and putting them in two huge boxes: one labeled "Needy," the other labeled "Greedy."
Every year, the public is invited to read as many as they like and answer them. (See the sidebar for details on how to participate.) And every year, we print the Neediest and Greediest.
So what are our children thinking? Let's ask them:

"Dear Santa, You are awesome! Hooray for Santa! I'm thankful for you because you make Christmas speshul! Happy Christmas, Santa! From Maya." (Oakland)

"Dear Santa, I want you to know that I am going to leave you a treasure in my room in return for the Christmas gifts. Shhhhhhhhhhh! You can't know what it is, and I promise you're going to love it! Bye! Jaeden." (Antioch)

"Dear Santa, I hope you and your family are OK. I hope you will bring something for my two sisters this Christmas because my mom does not have a job. My dad works part time only. I'm 9 years old and I need warm clothes. Shoes size 2. My 14-year-old sister, she's size L. My 18-months-old baby sister needs warm clothes and baby toys. Sincerely, Cristian." (Oakland)

"Dear Santa, I would like a glass angel because they are pretty and sparkly. I will be respectful and responsible. I promise. P.S. I'll have real good cookies for you. Love, Colm (written by mom)." (Berkeley)

"Dear Santa, My favorite holiday is Christmas! I mostly enjoy having my cousins over, I don't care if I do not get the presents I asked for. Just do your best. Thank you, Xavier." (Moraga)

"Dear Santa, Why do you have help from the elves? I hope I can see you on a sled. Do you like cookies and milk? I hope you bring me something to enjoy. Love, Emma." (San Jose)

"Dear Santa, I'm so happy I am saying a hello to you. I'm also happy that you exist because that's how you can help us. This year our mom can't give us nothing because she lost her job and you're the only hope I have. I would love some boots because the ones I have are ripped and I can't keep them together with glue any more. If you can I will be so grateful. And if not, I'll still be happy for just saying a hello to you. Sincerely, Ingrid." (Oakland)

"Dear Santa, I really like Harry Potter and Twilight. So could you get me lots of Twilight and HP stuff please? I believe in you! From Madison." (Pleasanton)

"Dear Santa, I wish for my mother's and father's healthyness. I also wish for clothes and shoes. If my wishes come true, I would be so happy. Sincerely, Sokhun." (Hayward)

"Dear Santa, Hello. I get good grades, not the best but I get Bs. I have always wanted an iPod Touch, but I couldn't get one because of the immigration status my parents are in. I hope to get this because I have always wanted one. Please and thank you, Sincerely, Diego." (Oakland)

"Dear Santa, I want a dog for Christmas. I will tell you the other things later. Love, Julius." (El Cerrito)

"Dear Santa, I am 5 years old. I haven't learned to write yet so I'm having someone help me write this letter. I am a very good girl. I love all my family. There's not much for me to say because I am only 5. Merry Christmas, Aytza." (Oakland)

"Dear Santa, Me and Esher are SO into vampires! And I have a question for you. Am I a real vampire? What am I missing? Please send a letter back. Your BEST friend, Amelia." (Albany)

"Dear Santa, I have been really good! I've been doing all my homework! Hope you are good, too. Until next time, Mila." (San Jose)


"Dear Santa, Will you bring me an airplane toy please? Because I like planes. I'd like you to sit in a chair and my house and eat cookies. Thank you, Santa. Love, Mickey." (Berkeley)

"Dear Santa, I'm 8 years old. I love you, Santa. Love, Jatijah." (Castro Valley)

"Gavin's and Bryan's Gift List: 1. Pure Fun 14-foot enclosure for trampoline. 2. Power wheels Fischer-Price Cadillac Hybrid Escalade-grey. Please! Please! Please!" (Oakland)

"Dear Santa, I want a jump rope and a Rapunzel doll and I love you, Santa. Love, Maegan." (Union City)

"Dear Santa Claus, Hi! My name is Maija. (Yeah, I know it's a whimsical and unique name, LOL.) I would like a Visa gift card. That way, I can buy things on the Internet without asking my parents. Thank you, Maija." (Richmond)

"Warning: Please do not read if not Santa!" (So, of course, we didn't read it.)

And finally, a letter from a desperate mom:

"Dear Santa, I have a six year old daughter who has had a very hard year. She and I had to leave our house in May due to domestic violence. We only took a bag of clothes and had to leave everything else. My daughter lost everything - her home, her toys, her stuff, her friends. She told me she'd like to have a bike like the one she had to leave behind. She is a really good girl and deserves to have a good Christmas. If you can help her, I would appreciate it more than you know. Thank you, Melanie." (Oakland)


SIDEBAR
How You Can Help

You, too, can make the holidays a little brighter for a needy child. Just visit Santa's Mail Room at the downtown Oakland Post Office, 201 13th Street (corner of 13th & Alice), Room 222, between 9 a.m. and 3 p.m. from now until Dec. 21, and the friendly elves will give you as many letters as you want.
"You don't necessarily have to send a present," says chief elf MaryGrace Cruz. "Often a kind word is enough. These kids are just glad to know that someone cares."
But, of course, if you're also moved to enclose a gift, nobody's going to stop you.
And if you'd like your own child to receive a letter from Santa, that can be arranged, too. Just write a letter to your child and put it in a stamped envelope addressed to your child.
Then stick the envelope inside another one addressed to North Pole Holiday Postmark, Postmaster, 4141 Postmark Dr, Anchorage, AK 99530-9998. (Yes, Santa has his own zip code.)
A special unit at the Anchorage Post Office will stamp your child's letter with a cancellation reading "North Pole" and mail it back.
Merry Christmas!

Christmas Comes To El Cerrito

Once upon a time there was a man named Sundar Shadi who came to this country from India in 1921 and settled in El Cerrito.
He got a master's degree in horticulture from Cal, but because of prejudice against immigrants the only job he could get was pumping gas.
Instead of complaining he worked hard, saved his money, made some smart investments, and retired a moderately wealthy man at age 50 in 1949.
That's when he began his true calling. That Christmas, his neighbors awoke to find a detailed recreation of the entire town of Bethlehem in his front yard - wise men, angels, doves, sheep, lambs, shepherds, cows, horses, donkeys, camels, the works. Each figure was lovingly created out of papier-mache and plaster of paris by Mr. Shadi himself.
He did it again every year after that, adding more figures each year, until failing eyesight forced him to call it quits in 1997.
The community quickly took the Christmas display to heart. Little kids grew up and brought their own kids, and then their grandkids, to see it.
Charter busses full of tourists came from as far away as San Jose and Sacramento - more than 70,000 every year.
For many people, Mr. Shadi WAS Christmas. He was a real-life Santa Claus who gave us something more precious than toys: the true spirit of the holiday.
The funny thing was that he wasn't a Christian himself. He was a Sikh. He chose a Christmas display because that was the way he could say "I love you" in a language we could understand.
Mr. Shadi died in 2002 at age 101. And then something wonderful happened. The people of El Cerrito refused to let his legacy die.
Under the leadership of former Mayor Jane Bartke, they restored the Shadi sculptures, which had deteriorated badly. That Holiday season the Christmas display made a triumphant return at the corner of Moeser and Seaview. And it's been there every Holiday season since.
But there's no guarantee it will be there next year. Bartke and her helpers - Gordon White, Richard Ritz, Jackson Lusk and Bartke's husband, Rich - are all in their 70s, and it's only a matter of time before they can't do it anymore.
Just as they stepped up 10 years ago, we need a new generation to step up and take over from them.
If you want to become part of this tradition, there's still time to learn the ropes this year because the Christmas display won't go up until Dec. 17. (It will remain there until Dec. 27.) Call Bartke at 510-235-1315, and she'll put you to work.
Financial help is always needed, too, because papier-mâché deteriorates quickly from the moisture, even though the sculptures are outdoors for only 10 days.
You can "adopt" the figure of your choice. A Wise Man (camel included) goes for $500, a shepherd for $350, and sheep are a real steal at only $25. Send a tax-deductible check to the El Cerrito Community Foundation, Inc., P. O. Box 324, El Cerrito CA 94530.
But more than money, what they really want is you.
This beloved Holiday tradition can go on for hundreds of years. Or it can go away tomorrow, and after a generation nobody will remember.
It's up to you, El Cerritans.

Slimebags? Or Patriots?

Last week, a letter to the editor in the Berkeley Voice called the Occupy protesters "slimebags," adding, "Water canons, stun guns, clubbing and arrests must be used on these freedom violators, with full force and with no possible legal actions against our police officers."
I couldn't agree more. Who do these kids think they are?
I watched the police break up the Occupy Cal encampment on the UC campus, and I was shocked by the violence with which the protestors attacked the police truncheons with their stomachs.
The chancellor had it absolutely right when he said, "It is unfortunate that some protesters chose to obstruct the police by linking arms and forming a human chain to prevent the police from gaining access to the tents. This is not non-violent civil disobedience."
Right on! Violent arm-linking has been an intimidation tactic at least since the days of those infamous terrorists Mohandas Gandhi and Martin Luther King. And, as Stephen Colbert pointed out, don't forget Occupy Oz, when Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman and the Cowardly Lion linked arms as they skipped down the Yellow Brick Road on their way to murder a witch.
Then, a week later, an overwhelming mob of 12 students at UC Davis protested the events at Cal by sitting down, linking arms (that violent tactic again) and attacking the police tear gas canisters with their faces.
There's been some criticism of the police actions in that incident, and a handful of people - only 80,000 - have signed a petition calling for the chancellor to resign. But as Fox News' Megyn Kelly pointed out, "Pepper spray is a food product, essentially," just like those other yummy snacks, mustard gas and Agent Orange.
In fact, the restraint shown by the authorities has been admirable. It reminds me of the so-called Civil Rights marches of the 1960s, when the Birmingham police magnanimously provided some cute little dogs for the demonstrators to play with.
And, because Birmingham tends to get hot in the summertime, the police, no doubt worried that some of the demonstrators might get heat stroke, cooled them off by spraying them with fire hoses.
The entire University of California system is beset by tight budgets, and you might be wondering, as I did, where the money came from to buy such expensive riot equipment and give the campus cops their riot control training.
It turns out that the funding was provided by the Department of Homeland Security, which is also good news.
I don't know about you, but I'm sure relieved that Homeland Security is focusing on student protestors - but not all student protestors; the ones who rioted at Penn State are OK - instead of wasting their time chasing Al Qaeda and Timothy McVeigh wannabes.
It might be a long struggle, folks, but don't despair. The day will come when people think twice before speaking their minds; and government of the corporations, by the corporations and for the corporations shall not perish from the earth.
We shall overcome.

Toy Story

Memo to Santa: Interactive toys are in this Christmas, passive toys are out.
So says Devin McDonald, co-owner (with his life and business partner, Jenny Stevenson) of Mr. Mopps' in Berkeley, one of the last of the old-fashioned neighborhood toy stores.
"Kids love to fill in the gaps with their own imagination," he says. "Just give them an open-ended toy, and they'll take it from there."
Which means out with toys where you all you do is push a button and watch them do their thing. And in with toys that you can actually play with. For instance:
* Do-it-yourself kits such as Make Your Own Friendship Bracelet and Make Your Own Monster Doll (with extra eyeballs in case you want to give him four eyes, or even six).
* Spy kits, which include ink pad, dusting powder & brush (for detecting fingerprints), magnifying glass, mirror and fingerprint files.
* Educational jigsaw puzzles such as Great Inventors, which spotlights some inventors you know (Edison, Guttenberg, Wozniak and Jobs) and some you've probably never heard of (Ts'ai Lun, who invented paper, Bartolomeo Cristofori, who invented the piano, and Aryabhata, who invented the concept of zero).
A pretty good sign of an interactive toy is that it doesn't need a battery.
But there are exceptions. Moon In My Room is a 3-D lunar landscape that you hang on your bedroom wall, a remote control that lets you put the Moon through all 12 phases, and a CD audio tour of the Moon. Way cool.
Then there's the Anti-Monster Flashlight, "guaranteed to scare away any unwanted monsters that might be hiding in your room, under your bed or behind the curtains. Also effective against ghosts, witches, warlocks, werewolves, zombies and clowns."
Meanwhile, doll houses have been re-invented as wooden play sets, allowing kids to construct an arctic polar glacier (with Eskimos, seal pups, a whale, a walrus and a penguin), King Arthur's castle, or a pirate ship with pirates, cannons, cloth sales, a rum barrel and, of course, a plank!
But the best toys of all are the same ones you loved when you were a kid: finger puppets, building blocks, swings, trampolines, hula-hoops, magnetic dart boards, and board games, including Anti-Monopoly. (Remember, this is Berkeley.)
Mr. Mopps' has been a Mecca for Berkeley children for almost 50 years, most of that time under the ownership of Eugene Yamashita. Several generations of kids grew up and brought their own kids and grandkids to his store.
One of them was Devin, who has been a loyal customer since he was a toddler, when his grandmother took him there and bought him his favorite teddy bear, Mr. Choo-Choo (who, by the way, is still with us, residing on the mantle in Devin and Jenny's living room).
When Yamashita retired a couple of years ago, he turned down several higher offers and sold the place to Devin and Jenny because he felt they were the best ones to continue his tradition.
Old-fashioned toy stores like Mr. Mopps' are rapidly becoming an endangered species. But there are still a few left, including The Magic Leaf at Children's Fairyland, the ToyHouse in Montclair, Five Little Monkeys in Albany, Rockridge Kids in Rockridge, Sweet Dreams in the Elmwood, and Toy Safari in Alameda.
Check them out instead of the giant Internet and chain stores this holiday season.

Good Guy And Bad Guy

Congratulations to Tony La Russa, who has achieved that rarest of feats in sports: Like Jim Brown and Sandy Koufax, he went out on top.
He's one of only two managers - the other is Sparky Anderson - to win World Series with teams in both leagues. He won more games than anybody but John McGraw and Connie Mack. (And Mack owned his team, so he couldn't be fired.)
And in his final season he skippered the Cardinals to come-from-behind wins in both the regular season and the World Series.
But just as John Madden is already becoming more famous for his video games than for his Hall of Fame careers as both a coach and a TV analyst, I think Tony will be better known someday for his work to ease the suffering of animals.
Before he and his wife Elaine founded the Animal Rescue Foundation (ARF, for short), there was no adoption agency for homeless dogs and cats in Contra Costa County except the hopelessly overstretched resources of the county animal shelter. Thousands of cats and dogs who would have been euthanized because of overcrowding are alive today, thanks to them.
But equally important, by going public about his love for animals - something no one else in the sports world had dared to do - Tony made compassion cool. Nowadays it's common to see athletes like Ron Artest and Jason Taylor doing commercials for animal welfare groups. But Tony started it all a quarter-century ago..
I first met Tony 25 years ago, when he was managing the A's. He, Elaine and their daughters, Devon and Bianca, were quietly picketing a business in Walnut Creek because it was selling furs. (It was the girls' idea.)
Then a guy emerged from the store and unleashed a string of obscenities at them, even though Devon and Bianca were both under 10 at the time.
"You blankety-blanks! Take those blankety-blank signs and blankety-blank, blankety blank, blankety blank!"
Suddenly, he stopped. A look of recognition came over his face.
"Hey, you're Tony La Russa! Hey, sign this ball for me, willya?"
Nice guy that he is, Tony signed.
* * *
On the other end of the human spectrum, we have the late Robert Stroud, better known as the Birdman of Alcatraz.
If you've never been to Alcatraz, you really should go. It's absolutely fascinating.
When you arrive, the first people you'll meet will be former prisoners and former guards, all hawking copies of their memoirs.
And they all say the same thing: Contrary to the saintly old man portrayed by Burt Lancaster in the movie, Stroud was the most hated person on The Rock.
He was a brutal murderer and rapist and an avid collector of child pornography. New inmates, especially if they were young and good looking, were quickly pulled aside by an old-timer and warned to give Stroud a wide berth.
Everyone hated him, prisoners and guards alike. But Stroud didn't care. The movie made him famous, and he loved to boast, "When I die, it'll be the front page headline in every newspaper in the world!"
But God has a great sense of humor. Stroud died in his sleep late one night at age 85, and his body was discovered in bed the next day when the guards made their morning rounds.
The date: November 22, 1963.