July 2016

By Tim Clinton
SPORTS EDITOR

South Highline National beat Bellevue by an 11-9 score Sunday to earn its way into Tuesday's state Little League Intermediate baseball tournament winners bracket final.

National will take on Snohomish at 5:30 p.m. at the Underwood complex in Normandy Park, where it is hosting the entire tournament.

The provisional championship of the all-star tournament is scheduled for the same time Thursday for the winner with the if-necessary game penciled in for the same time Friday. The losers bracket final is at 5:30 p.m. Wednesday for the loser between Snohomish and National.

Sunday's game was the first of the tournament for National, which was the team to receive a first round bye in the seven team tournament.
National is managed by Todd Kephart, who is assisted by coaches Nathan Cooke and Josh Quijano.

Players are Owen Brunt, Dillon Charles, Ethan Cooke, Zackaraya Cunningham, Tyler Kephart, Nate Meyer, Ryan Pennington, Tony Perovich, Preston Quijano, Jabari Ramos and Justin Stetson.

PacWest Seniors also win

By Tim Clinton
SPORTS EDITOR

Semipro

Highline Bears
The Highline Bears semiprofessional baseball team is at the Regional Athletic Complex in Lacey playing the Senators squad at 5 p.m. Wednesday before coming home to Mel Olson Stadium at Steve Cox Memorial Park in White Center to take on the NWCL Eastside Eagles at 7:05 p.m. Friday.
The NWCL Emeralds pay a visit at 7:05 p.m. Saturday and the Northwest Honkers come to town at the same time Tuesday.

Pros

Sounders
Seattle's Major League Soccer team will be at home at CenturyLink Field playing Dallas in a 7:30 p.m. match Wednesday that will be shown on Channel 13 television.
The Sounders go to Portland for a 12 p.m. match Sunday on the same channel.

Mariners
Seattle is off for the All-Star break until Friday, when the Houston Astros come to Safeco Field for a 7:10 p.m. game. They will stay for 1:10 p.m. action Saturday and Sunday before the Chicago White Sox come to town for 7:10 p.m. games Monday and Tuesday.

By Amanda Knox
 
On his birthday, my partner introduced me to this tradition he has, of writing himself a birthday sonnet. He read me a few from the last few years. They weren’t festive. Rather, they attempted to encapsulate sentiments for another year of life past, goals moving forward, what could be or could have been. They weren’t depressing, either! Just that particular combination of warm and cold often characterizing the thoughts of an adult on their birthday—another milepost on the mortal road.
 
I decided to take up the tradition myself, and for my birthday—July 9th—I’m going to break the usual mold of my weekly column by instead submitting my birthday sonnet. Because I can. It’s my birthday.
 
“Unity”

Juggling eggs, each one the one and only.
They’re potential, and serious; each a
transparent pre-hatchling, each a creature
worth being, but utterly, totally.
I struggle to warm one long enough
in hand for limbs to form, stretch, and break out
of their thin cast, to be. Be! Not without
dropping the others, equally worthy.
But, this is not adolescence. I have
responsibilities, opportunities:
people to love. I know how to behave

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By Pat Cashman

I was 12 years old, and everyone else had left the dinner table twenty minutes earlier. But there I remained seated while under the baleful eye of my mother. “Keep eating it until you’re done,” she said. The “it” she referred to was a hunk of suety oleginousness; a clump of sebaceous adiposity. Or, as it is more commonly known: fat.

My mom quite honestly believed that “fat is good for you”---and therefore my siblings and I were required not only to finish every meal she laid out for us, but also every component part of it---including trimmings, stems, skins and, yes, fat.

The problem with fat---be it from beef, chicken, ham, turkey or salmon---was that I simply could not swallow it. I could chew it for hours---even days---and make less progress than a slug traveling from Tukwila to Pullman.

Big Bertha could tunnel through the planet quicker than I could ingurgitate a glob of gristle. Even a gun to the head would not speed things along.

Staff

Seafood Fest was a party with everyone invited on July 9 , and the crowd loved street performances by jugglers, musicians, and entertainers of all kinds.

The Ballard News-Tribune was there to capture images of the first ever international Lutefisk Eating Contest. The fish was truly flying, and the top two finishers (out of a field of 11 brave souls) were David Johnston and Al Johnston both from Ballard. Coincidently, the two used to be next door neighbors.

David, at left, is a previous winner of the contest. 

Car shot with a handgun

Police were flagged down at 25th Avenue S.W. and S.W. Genesee Street just past midnight on Tues., July 5 after receiving a report of an assault with a handgun.

The victim said his vehicle had been shot at with a handgun three times. He explained that he had been driving through the Don Armeni boat ramp watching the fireworks, when a black male in his mid-20s yelled at him. The victim described the man as being 5 ft. 10 inches, with a medium build, wearing a white shirt and white pants with a tattoo on the right side of his face.

The victim felt like he was being challenged to a fight. He drove slowly past the suspect, who suddenly pulled out a handgun and fired three rounds into the rear of his vehicle from about 10 feet away. The victim said that a white Cadillac Escalade was nearby, but he wasn’t sure if it belonged to the suspect.

Police searched the area for the suspect but could not find him. No one was injured in the shooting.

Homeowner robbed while on vacation

By Pat Cashman

I was 12 years old, and everyone else had left the dinner table twenty minutes earlier. But there I remained seated while under the baleful eye of my mother. “Keep eating it until you’re done,” she said. The “it” she referred to was a hunk of suety oleginousness; a clump of sebaceous adiposity. Or, as it is more commonly known: fat.

My mom quite honestly believed that “fat is good for you”---and therefore my siblings and I were required not only to finish every meal she laid out for us, but also every component part of it---including trimmings, stems, skins and, yes, fat.

The problem with fat---be it from beef, chicken, ham, turkey or salmon---was that I simply could not swallow it. I could chew it for hours---even days---and make less progress than a slug traveling from Tukwila to Pullman.

Big Bertha could tunnel through the planet quicker than I could ingurgitate a glob of gristle. Even a gun to the head would not speed things along.

By Amanda Knox

On his birthday, my partner introduced me to this tradition he has, of writing himself a birthday sonnet. He read me a few from the last few years. They weren’t festive. Rather, they attempted to encapsulate sentiments for another year of life past, goals moving forward, what could be or could have been. They weren’t depressing, either! Just that particular combination of warm and cold often characterizing the thoughts of an adult on their birthday—another milepost on the mortal road.

I decided to take up the tradition myself, and for my birthday—July 9th—I’m going to break the usual mold of my weekly column by instead submitting my birthday sonnet. Because I can. It’s my birthday.
“Unity”

Juggling eggs, each one the one and only.

They’re potential, and serious; each a

transparent pre-hatchling, each a creature

worth being, but utterly, totally.

I struggle to warm one long enough

in hand for limbs to form, stretch, and break out

of their thin cast, to be. Be! Not without

dropping the others, equally worthy.

But, this is not adolescence. I have

By Peggy Sturdivant

There’s a Wall of Recognition on the first floor of Ballard High School with photographs of alumni who have distinguished themselves in the outside world. Their work may have been in laboratories, film studios, universities, libraries and museums. But the headshots don’t give a hint to those whose creations are around the corner and up the stairs. The high school school’s walls are home to a permanent art collection by major artists, many of them alumni.

Matthew Kangas, Class of ’67, independent art critic, BHS Foundation Art Committee member and the man leading a tour after the final bell of spring semester 2016 said as a matter of fact, “This collection is pretty much all masterpieces.” The remarkability of such a collection in a public high school is over the heads of the students, “’literally’ as teenagers are so fond of saying, but in this case, yes, literally above their heads, hung over the lockers and corridor breaks.