Not ours of course, I refer to those who &uot;govern&uot; the city of Chesapeake as council members. They find themselves hip-deep in an educational mud hole – not enough schools. You never know if any elected city official is being paid under the table by land developers, but for what other reason would Chesapeake council approve huge tract developments over the objections of its city Planning Commission? If I remember my 1941 civics class, we are supposed to elect the best-qualified persons to make important decisions. OK, blacks will probably elect blacks and whites white, that’s a given, but all should at least understand simple mathematics. One new home equals, usually, a male and a female that could lead to several children who by law must be educated. The Chesapeake council should meet with the School Superintendent every 20 years or so to discuss where in blazes they will stuff the kids. Only one member of that council has the brains and courage to vote &uot;no&uot; on more housing. Of course it could not happen here in Suffolk, could it?

I am a sports fan. Women’s volleyball played on hot beach sand always gets my attention. When I was young I used to open beer cans and whoop it up whenever two teams of any kind got together to duke it out. But as I aged I became more selective. I’m almost afraid to say it here in the south but racecars zooming around a track bore me to death. I might catch the highlights of the crashes at 11, but why can’t they cut the races to maybe 10 laps. Virginia Tech I’ll watch and most other college football or basketball games including Virginia. But both pro baseball and the NBA put me to sleep with their endless seasons. I might watch the last inning of a World Series game, but only when it’s the seventh. I was pretty good at basketball, being 6’5&uot; at the time, but NBA stars making millions and making me look short do not appeal. With only five running steps they travel the length of the floor and like giraffes are looking down at the hoop.

I never did enjoy watching anyone spit and baseball cameramen seem to have a fixation. Every time I’ve surfed and caught a game there he was, usually leaving some on his chin – a millionaire waving a bat with a wad of tobacco in his cheek; setting a good example for the kids. Those fans are like many parents watching their offspring at little league, wetting their pants over a called third strike. I had to choose between boxing and hockey for bloody noses, but gave them both up when biting off ears was acceptable. Golf is great to have on TV when I want to take a nap, but if Tiger is only one up I stay awake. I am a great fan of the Washington Native American Indians, but I don’t want my day spoiled so I don’t turn the game on. Well, maybe for the Dallas cheerleaders.

When I want to see idiocy at its best I turn on &uot;professional&uot; wrestling. These guys and girls(?) put on a super show. But not as great as the true fans who must be aficionados of the art of gymnastics, or never got past third grade. No one has to explain that this is not considered a sport, swatting with a metal folding chair has not yet been accepted by the Olympic committee. The ladies of wrestling and boxing leave me guessing. The block of evidence indicates they are not males in drag but I’d have to see more. I’ve never before been able to associate ladies with violence; wrestling with them was always fun, but only a sadistic dominatrix would attempt to rip your arm off. But then violence has become part of almost all sports. Even female soccer players are guilty of tripping opponents and one day a muscular lady tennis player in a flirty short skirt will kick the high stool out from under the net judge.

There went another $72,000 job – a second city employee in almost the same job as our Public Relations Director; a Communications Director, to keep us informed. That eats up the collected property taxes from about 25 taxpayers and I hope it gets us more than the &uot;City Page&uot; that shows up in the News-Herald. I understand one of his functions is to &uot;deal&uot; with the press, keep them informed, hand reporters something to write about. Surely I will never meet the man, Dennis R. Craff, (welcome aboard) because I am not a paid member of the press, or qualify as a journalist. All citizens of Suffolk do not connect to local cable so our only access to news is through the newspapers. An occasional press conference could be of great help. As the bullies used to taunt when I was a kid, I am all ears.

Robert Pocklington is a resident of Suffolk and a regular News-Herald employee. He can be contacted via e-mail at robert.pocklington@suffolknewsherald.com