In early August, old friend John Mooney telephoned me from Springfield after tuning into the Little League World Series. Mooney noted that the 13-year old starting pitcher was 5-foot-3. "When I was 13," said the left-handed one-time fireballer, "I was 6-1. Yeah, and throwing from a 49-foot mound." That was less than fun to imagine if you were the one standing in the batter's box.

Not that the additional 17 feet made much difference to Mooney when he reached the Junior League in Nevada and was already nearing 6-foot-4. The rule was you could only pitch seven innings a week. This meant that the players on Farm & Home, Vieth's Cafe and Tastemark were quick to check their schedules and see who would get Mooney on the week they played C.A. White Motors.

While Mooney used to throw his fastball past hitters, I used to kid him about his control. "Look at all the guys you hit," I said. Mooney gave me that trademark disdainful look he had perfected over time and replied, "I never hit anybody I didn't want to hit."

Touche!

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Being a history buff of long-standing, I guess you'd say I was a bit like Lt. Columbo after looking over all the artist's renderings of what will be the new-New Yankee Stadium. Something bothered me.

Finally, it hit me. Looking at all the grandeur and magnificence of what this baseball palace will be reminded me of these words: "This is the special and wonderful property of architecture: when the work has been done, a monument remains. That endures." He said more, but you get the picture. This is going to be quite a building. It has to be, to replace a monument.

Oh yes, those were not the words of Yankee owner George Steinbrenner, but rather Adolf Hitler upon completion of the new-Reichs Chancellery in 1938. That's the building it reminds me of.

Come on by sometime and I'll show you my book on the Reichs Chancellery, designed by Albert Speer. It's about as magnificent as the new Yankee Stadium will be. Ah, the lure of history.

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It seems that for every person out there who favors throwing the book at Michael Vick for his unlawful transgressions, there is someone who wants to drape a mantle of compassion over his shoulders because "everyone makes mistakes." Huh?

Where was all the compassion when baseball's all-time hit king, Pete Rose, was banned from the game for life on account of alleged betting on baseball. (That's not what he was convicted of.)

Whether Vick ever plays another down of NFL football is up not only to the commissioner but to owners as his free agency might not produce all that many takers what with all the boos that would rain down on his head at every appearance. Maybe not.

Still, there is no rule out there to prohibit Vick's participation in Canadian football.

As far as compassion goes, I look at seriousness of the offense and have noticed many times the people who have been jailed in this very area (Joplin for instance) for cruelty to animals. It's illegal everywhere. And what about the betting aspect? All these people don't go out and kill dogs simply because they enjoy wiping out helpless creatures. Vick knew he was breaking the law and wasn't satisfied with the millions he was making off the Falcons and endorsements. Does greed have no limits?

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When I wrote the column about the 1973 Tigers, I forgot one anecdote of note that occurred the next year, but would have been perfect had it happened in 1973 instead. It was probably John Osborne's last great moment as NHS head football coach, because two weeks later came that awful night at Webb City when the win-streak ended at 19.

Anybody who was around in those days, can easily recall those head-knocking games the Tigers seemed to always have with Mount Vernon. It was no different in 1974.

The halftime cordon of Nevada fans that stretched from the locker room to the field numbered in the many hundreds. They began a stacatto clapping a full five minutes before the team broke through them to the field. It was something that ignited the team more than I have seen before or since. Ah, the support the Tigers used to have.

That night, my dad wanted to get there early, but when we arrived at the parking lot across the street it was devoid of cars.

Finally, a man ambled up and us asked why we were there at 4:45. What we didn't know, and what the others, who soon started coming in droves, didn't know, is that Mount Vernon remained on CST while Nevada was on daylight time. Great! What days those were.

* * * * * * * *

Following the induction into the Nevada High School Athletic Hall of Fame on the evening of Sept. 7, I stood along the sideline to watch some football with old No. 62, Scott Kennedy, one of those fabled fabulous sophomore starters in 1973. A three-year starting offensive guard, Kennedy pointed out something to me I had forgotten through the mists of time.

Kennedy pointed out that when the Tigers lost that heartbreaking game to Webb City that ended Nevada's 19-game winning streak in 1974, it was the first loss Kennedy had suffered -- EVER.

When Kennedy graduated, those sophomores had compiled a lifetime record of 46-2, with middle school and freshman scores included. I think I can state with more than relative certainty that there's a record that will withstand the assault of time for all time.

* * * * * * * *

In closing, one more anecdote concerning 1973.

You might recall the Tigers fumbled the ball an incredible eight times against the Butler Bears this past Sept. 14.

Following the game the previous week, a group of us were out at Jerry Rose's house talking about the good old days when Brad Broome happened to mention that he fumbled in the first game and wound up having to carry a football with him to all of his classes the next week.

Osborne, who was also there, merely glanced at Broome and said, "Didn't fumble again did you?"

I think the answer to that is apparent.