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March 7, 2003
by "Biggest Daddy"
Interview with Steve
Osborne,
Nashville Funkadelic
BIGGEST DADDY: In your picture on the web site, you look a little like a cross
between Jim Doyle and John Rambo. What MLB player (past or present) do you think you most
resemble?
STEVE OSBORNE: Well, a lot of people have told me I had some facial resemblance to Greg
Maddux. But as far as I am concerned, I go with Rob Dibble. Physical resemblance? Well,
no. But on the mound, I had one objective for the most part, and that was to try to throw
every pitch through a brick wall. I looked a lot like Dibbs when I threw. Hmmm, maybe
thats why my arm hurt a lot, too.
Does anyone remember towards the end of his career with Cincy, some jerk dropped a
bush-league bunt with about a 10 run lead, and Dibble fielded the ball, wound up and
planted his best fastball square in his back as he ran up the baseline? Classic. I had
some jackass stretch a single into a double in a softball game about 5 years ago, when his
club was up about 20 runs late in a game. The next hitter popped to short, where I fielded
the ball, and the jerk had taken 2 steps off 2nd base, then returned to the bag with his
back to me after I fielded the pop. Gee, I thought I could catch him off the bag, so I
wound up and pegged him square in his back. He pointed at me, I told him to keep his ass
on 1st base next time. I think Dibbs would have been proud.
BD: What is your favorite vacation spot?
SO: Gatlinburg, Tennessee is nice, and its probably my favorite. We do finish each
and every Osborne (Griswald) annual vacation (entering its 3rd year) with a day in
Lexington, Kentucky (my old college stomping grounds) before traveling the final 200 miles
home to Hendersonville. The last night is always pizza at Joe Bolognas --- highly
recommended if you ever find yourself in the heart of the Bluegrass State.
BD: What is your favorite Monty Python movie?
SO: Wow, that is practically a tie. I guess The Holy Grail takes the #1 spot, with Life of
Brian taking a very close 2nd. I am a huge fan of every Python project, group and solo. I
slept in 3-4 hour increments for 72 hours about 10 years ago to record every episode in a
Comedy Central marathon. I have the entire catalog on DVD now. I can literally bring
myself to tears laughing at sketches I have seen dozens of times The Argument
Clinic, Nudge Nudge, Cheese Shop, Salad Days, Spam, The Lumberjack Song, etc. You owe it
to yourself to know this material and pass it on to your kids.
BD: Describe your greatest sports moment in detail.
SO: Well, greatest moment in pro sports or my personal greatest moment? Not sure which
youre looking for, so I will provide both.
I was (am) a huge Dr. J fan. So for me it has to be the moment the 76ers won the NBA
championship in 1983.
For me personally, I have always come back to a moment not from my youth but from a later
time. I had some tremendous moments in baseball, which is really the only sport I played
seriously. We were state contenders for 3 years, and I had some nice pitching performances
in a few big games. I ended my career after high school, turning down a scholarship at the
University of Kentucky as well as some local schools to concentrate on an education, and
have regretted that in a way ever since. Ironically, I attended and graduated from UK
anyway.
While living in Florida, I gave up softball and started playing in a 30+ league around 31
years old. I played for about 4 years, and it was a pretty tough league, numerous
ex-college and ex-minor league players, and a few ex-ml players such as Steve Swisher, Roy
Smalley Jr, and Dave Campbell.
Campbell (not the ESPN analyst) was a relief pitcher for the Braves in the late 70s. He
was a big man, and usually played DH or 1B for one of the better teams in our division
they had 2 ex minor league pitchers who could still bring it, and more than a few
guys who could hit it. Campbell could hit it a ton, I mean he crushed the damn ball. He
pitched every now and then, he was about their 3rd pitcher, but he was tough. His arm hurt
him to throw too much. He didnt throw hard, he just knew how to pitch
changing speeds, different release points, didnt throw anything straight. I loved
watching him pitch, and learned a lot from the old man (he would have been in his early
40s at the time).
Late in the season we hooked up in a big game, and we both got the starting assignments. I
absolutely pitched my ass off. I could still throw pretty hard, and knew so much more
about pitching at 30+ than in my younger days. What I would have given to have
listened to the guys trying to tell me to think on the mound, and develop a change of
speed, and study hitters when I was a teen --- to know what I discovered in later years
when I still had the ability to throw seeds at 18 would have been a treat. But sometimes
wisdom has to come with age.
Anyway, I pitched a brilliant game. We were both tossing shutouts after 8 innings, and I
struck out 10, giving up (I believe) 3 hits. I was totally spent. I gave up a hit and a
walk in the 9th and just had nothing left. My bullpen couldnt hold it, and we lost
2-0.
After the game, Campbell went out of his way to come find me, and told me what a game I
had pitched. He told me I threw the ball well, and asked where I played. He asks in what
system he actually thinks I pitched minor league ball. With great pride I answered,
nah I just pitched a little high school ball. He kind of laughs it off, like I was
screwing with him.
It was a nice moment, cause it sort of reconciled things for me. I always had, and have
had, second thoughts about my decision to end my career. I watched some teammates go on to
play college ball, watched a fellow come through here after me, went to UK and played AA
with the Yankees. I always thought I had been just as good as many of them, but the bottom
line was I didnt continue, so part of me felt like I quit on my dream.
While this moment in a 30+ baseball league in Orlando was somewhat meaningless, I had a
major league pitcher give me props. And while I dont hold unrealistic regrets of a
professional career that never was, I knew at that moment that I could have gone on to
pitch a little, and that meant a lot to me.
BD: You list the Braves and Reds as your two favorite teams. How did you reconcile
this when both teams were in the same division?
SO: My family tree has ties to Kentucky and Ohio, which put the Reds in my blood. And
living in the Nashville area from the time I was 4 put us in Braves territory. For the
better part of my childhood, the Reds were pretty good and of course the Braves sucked, so
it wasnt actually that hard to pull for both.
BD: What promotional gimmicks will the Funk be having this season for home games?
SO: Well, after the disaster on opening night, weve seen our promotional nights
suspended for a month or so. For those who missed it, we hosted Cleveland to mark the
opening of The Mothership Connection, our brand new stadium. All patrons were
given a miniature model replica of the actual mothership to mark the occasion, and with
the roof closed the U.S. Funk Mob, led by George Clinton and Bootsy Collins, performed
Tear The Roof Off The Sucker as the roof slowly opened. We landed a decorated
chopper in the outfield, and our starting 9 emerged from the vehicle to take their
defensive positions. The evening turned sour of course, as Cleveland spoiled the home
opener. The rowdy outfield bleacher section known as Bootsys Rubber Band
was surprised by a late-inning visit from Mr. Collins himself, accompanied by Central
American Director of Scouting Steve Howe, who apparently led a roll your own
7th inning stretch. As the last out was made, toy flying saucers rained from the sky in
disapproval of the poor Nashville display, soon littering the field. Several Cleveland
Rocks were pelted in the process.
We will rebound though, with appropriate crowd control measures in place. We are planning
a Free the Super Freak Night in June, with Rick James performing before and
after the game as part of credit towards his community service. In July we have a
Kidd Funkadelic / Maggott Brain Night, where all parents of infants get a free
Garry Shider autographed diaper, and all adults get a P-Funk lighter. August features
Clones of Dr. Funkenstein Night, with free blonde wigs to all kids under 16.
BD: When will the Funk bring the BDBL trophy back to the Chocolate City?
SO: I see us contending in 2003, but I think well need some breaks to get to the
BDBL World Series. Realistically, I think were a solid final 4 club this year. But
then again, we were a game away from the series last year, with a club that wasnt
expected to come that close to the prize, so who knows?
Not to look past 2003, but I anticipate several members of the Funk roster to bounce back
with huge MLB years, such as Nevin, Sexson and Sheffield, and expect big things from
Nashville in 2004.
BD: What are your top five favorite albums?
SO: Tough choices. The top 2 are set in stone. Selections 3-5 will tend to fluctuate over
time. I could easily sub various Stevie Nicks releases, Sheryl Crow, Pink Floyd/Roger
Waters, Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, P-Funk, Kid Rock, The Stones, U2, Cameo. But
heres a go.
#5 AC/DC, Back in Black
#4 Stevie Nicks, Bella Donna
#3 The Cars, Candy-O
#2 Pink Floyd (Roger Waters), The Wall
#1 Pink Floyd (Roger Waters), The Final Cut
BD: How are you doing in your two other DMB leagues?
SO: I really enjoy the retro leagues. Both retain rosters from season to season, so you
keep the concept of building a franchise. I am currently in a 1970 season, and joined that
league towards the end of last season. I finished the season strong, and was predicted 1
or 2 in the division, but got off to a dreadful start this season, still below .500 about
1/3 way. Players include Orlando Cepeda, Brooks Robinson, Cito Gaston, Bobby Bonds, Tommy
Agee, Jim Palmer, Jim Perry, Jerry Koosman. The other league is entering the 1987 season
(getting close to Dibble time!) and I have joined prior to the off-season draft. Phil
Bradley, Incaviglia, Dave Parker, Cory Snyder, Madlock, Roger Clemens, Tudor, Blyleven,
and Rick Reuschel. A little work to do on this aging franchise, who won the World Series
in 1985.
BD: Of the three leagues, the BDBL is your favorite, right?
SO: Oh yeah, easy. The farm system and contracts, combined with the website and the
tireless efforts of the Commissioner
tough to beat. Not a bad crew of owners
either.
BD: When you met George Forman, did he try to sell you a grill?
SO: Well, no. An awesome man. Watched him spar, with a seat near ringside, and let me tell
you if you have never seen a boxer that close you have no idea of the speed and
strength. As slow as Foreman looked on HBO during his comeback trail, I was shocked at how
quick his hands were. And the power was frightening. Kind of like watching an NBA game
live
you dont have a good feel for how huge and athletic these guys are, and
how fast the NBA game is, unless you see it live. I cant imagine how nasty Ali must
have been, or Tyson. Or Foreman in his prime!
After the workout I got a shot taken with him. I shook his hand first, and told him to
kick Tysons ass, he said he planned to. Before the snapshot I placed my fist under
his chin, and he laughed and said no, we wont do that and the result was
the shot seen here. This may also be the last time I wore a tie.
BD: Did you ever tour with your father (bluegrass
legend Sonny Osborne)? Any good stories?
SO: Well, not really. I did not pursue the music business, and play nothing. However, I
did spend 2 weeks on the road with them right after I graduated from the University of
Kentucky in May 1982, and that was a blast. Drank a lot. I mean a lot.
BD: You were vacationing five blocks from the World Trade Center on 9/11. What was
that day like for you?
SO: What a day. It changed my life. We were in the middle of a 2-week vacation, had been
in New York since Saturday night, and was checking out Tuesday, 9/11. The plan was to
check out mid-morning and do some shopping, walk around a bit more, and head out late
afternoon. I desperately wanted to take a drive through Harlem and check out Rucker Park
on the way out of town. We were still contemplating whether to walk down towards the WTC,
or head north. We were staying about 5-6 blocks NE of the WTC.
We slept in a little that morning, and Linda was in the shower when the first plane hit.
She heard it, and I think it woke me briefly. She was out when the 2nd hit, and went to
the window and saw the smoke in the sky our window faced SE and the WTC was just
out of view. We flipped the TV on and watched the rest.
When the 1st tower collapsed it shook the damn building. I dressed and told her to dress
Matt and pack. I had already called the lobby and asked them to bring our truck, which was
parked in a garage about 3 blocks closer to the WTC. As I am walking out the door, the
phone rings, and I am informed that we cant get the vehicle. I didnt tell her
that, just told her to get everything ready.
Long story a little shorter, I hit the lobby and engage in an argument over the truck.
Theyre not going to release it, we cant go anywhere anyway. The place is a
madhouse people already walking in from the street, demanding rooms. There are
rumors, I hear there are 6 more planes in the air, one guys says he just hears that they
are all circling New York, another says there are 10 planes and they are coming down all
over the country. I finally demand directions to the garage and I am off to claim my
vehicle.
As soon as I hit the street the 2nd tower comes down. It shook the street, you could hear
and feel the roar. Traveling towards the garage, I am moving against the crowd. Its
a damn riot, just a swarm of people, some running, some carrying or helping others, some
screaming, some covered in black ash, some covered in blood, couldnt tell if their
own or not. Every time a plane is heard overhead everyone cringes at the sound. I suppose
those were the fighter jets.
I get to the garage, and they dont want to let me have the vehicle. I can see it
about 100 feet from the entrance, but they say for my own safety they cant release
it. I finally lose it, and basically tell them I am taking the f-n truck, and if they want
to stop me they are going to have to f-n kill me, and I demand the keys. They agree
(there, that wasnt so hard), and ask for the claim ticket. Which of course I
dont have. Hell, for some reason I forgot to ask for it at the hotel. I just start
screaming again, since that worked so well a few moments earlier, and they just throw me
the keys.
On to the hotel to pick up the family, and were off. I made my way to the West Side
Hwy, and from there it took 5 hours to reach the Washington Bridge. We didnt know if
it was closed, open to outbound, anything. To complicate things, I had no idea where I was
going after that, as my well-planned itinerary has us taking the Lincoln Tunnel or the
Washington Bridge west, and on to our next stop in Pennsylvania. Of course the bridge was
closed. So all I knew was to move north until I ran out of land.
For those 5 hours, we barely spoke. I was intent on just getting us out. I can still hear
the sirens. Thats probably the main thing I recall, hearing the sirens, constant
sirens. A total of 7 ½ hours after we departed, I pulled off at a McDonalds somewhere in
Connecticut. We went in for lunch and just sat there, soaking it in. There was a lady
there who was on the street when they hit
she had taken shots on her digital camera
and was showing everybody. Out of the blue my son, then 4 ½, asked me if when he grew up
and had kids, would he want them to call me paw-paw or pa-paw, and
I totally lost it. I cry a lot more now, at stupid things, something my son will say,
movies. Its annoying.
BD: Who is Lorrie Morgan, and why do you owe her $150?
SO: Lorrie is a fairly popular country singer daughter of George Morgan.
Her son has played a little baseball in leagues I have run. 2 years ago he signed up for a
league and never played, had an injury then lost interest I guess. I called a few times
and never got a straight answer, so the league kept his entry fee, even though he was
replaced. Hey, she cant pick up a phone? I thought I might sell her mobile phone
number on ebay.
BD: Finally, if Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why does he keep doing it?
SO: What is that supposed to mean? I have roots in Kentucky and live in Tennessee, so
Im supposed to know every hillbilly who cracks corn. I mean, let this backwoods
ass-clown crack corn if he wants to. I have spent enough time in the hills of Kentucky to
tell you that you just leave them boys alone and let them do the things they do.
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