The hallways were usually quite on Floor 7 in the southeast tower of UW Hospital.
I entered a new, unfamiliar world on May 20 when I was wheeled from the surgery recovery room to an oncology section of University of Washington Hospital.
I shared Floor 7 with other cancer patients. I rarely saw them. It was a quiet, eerie existence. I can only surmise other patients were much sicker than I. They rarely left their rooms, except to be wheeled to or from surgery. On my daily walks through these lonely hallways, I only encountered nurses and visitors during my three-night stay on Floor 7.
Yet, conversations among family were overheard. During a late Friday night stroll, I encountered a family member on his cell phone delivering sad, tragic news to a loved one.
“He’s done,” the man, standing outside the loved one’s room, said to the person on the other end. “He’s done fighting. He can’t go anymore. He wants to die with dignity.”
Even though the door was closed to the room, I had seen the man in the room on previous walks. He was always sleeping, and appeared very pale. It was heartbreaking to hear he’d given up the fight.
I found the staff on Floor 7 to be hard-working, kind and patient. I don’t know how they do what they do. They all worked three, 12-hour shifts. I got to know all of them really well. Not bad for an introvert.
Rachel, the RN my first night, was a cancer survivor. Her entire stomach had been removed, and her esophagus connected directly to her small intestine. She eats only small portions, which explains why she was fit. Because of her experience, she chose to resume her nursing career in oncology. She has two young children and commutes from Snohomish.
Pauline, who grew up on Bainbridge Island, helped me on my first walk after surgery, at 3:30 a.m. Hannah, who grew up in Edmonds and is only three years removed from nursing school at Seattle U, was amazingly sweet and kind. She lives alone with her cat.
There there was Seedy, He is of African descent, and commutes to UW from Port Orchard. That’s an hour and a half drive in no traffic.
Seedy was working at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City when the global pandemic arrived in March 2020. He shared horror stories of working on a floor where there was “COVID in every room.” Mount Sinai was the hospital where patients were dying so fast they were stored in refrigerated trucks outside.
“The hardest part was watching people die, unable to be with family,” he said in broken English. “Instead, they died in front of me, a complete stranger.” Despite being exposed to many COVID victims, Seedy said he never contracted COVID.
Seedy’s shift ended at 7 a.m., the day of my discharge. Before he left for the long drive back to Port Orchard, he stopped in to say goodbye.
“I hope to never see you again,” he told me, good-naturedly.
I’d be happy with that. A few hours later, I left Floor 7, for hopefully the last time.
Me with best bud Sailor and a talking parrot by Krista’s house in January.
One of the benefits of retirement has been to spend more time with our grandchildren. Vicki and I have been especially connected to Sonja’s two girls, Sailor and Skipper, these last few years. Sonja has needed our help. For most of the time since Sailor’s birth in 2021, we’ve been on once-a-week babysitting duty.
I have been most attached to Sailor, while Vicki, by necessity, has spent more time these last two years attending to her younger sister. Not bragging here, but it’s well known to Sonja, J.B. and Vicki that silly “Morfar” – a Scandinavian term for “mother’s father” – is Sailor’s fave.
On Saturday, May 23, I was released from University of Washington Hospital following surgery to remove a cancerous tumor on my right kidney. Sonja decided to swing by our house with the girls to see how I was doing. Unfortunately, I still have this drain from my incision that I have to keep for awhile.
“This bulb here collects the blood from my ‘owie,” I told Sailor as she approached me.
Sailor put her head down and started to shake. She was visibly upset. She finally looked up and said “I cry for you, Morfar.”
I just thought that was such an interesting – and obviously touching – way to express her feelings. It revealed a sensitive, empathetic side to Sailor. It also speaks to a deep bond between a 4-year-old girl and her grandfather.
Relationships can’t grow without the investment of time. I am so grateful for the many hide-and-seek games, the ball-catching (to see how many the two of us you can catch in a row!), the storybook readings, the toy tower building and piggyback rides I’ve had with Sailor. Those all add up. It also requires me to be “fully present” with Sailor. I have struggled with that in my past.
My growing relationships with my grandchildren in retirement has truly been one of the most rewarding and fulfilling experiences of my life.
I drove to Cascade Valley Hospital in Arlington on the morning of February 12 for what appeared to a routine ultrasound test. My doctor wanted a look at my bladder, and since the scan would be “in the neighborhood,” he made a last-minute decision to include pictures of my two kidneys.
When the ultrasound was finished, I asked the technician if he saw “anything interesting.” He said my bladder was functioning normal. And my kidneys? He declined to answer, saying something to the effect that he wasn’t at liberty to discuss results, which sounded ominous. That was the radiologist’s job, he said.
The radiologist didn’t take long to release his findings. I hadn’t even finished the 25-minute drive back home when I got a “ping” on my email that I had a new test result in “MyChart.” I was stopped at a red light on Highway 532 just west of I-5, so I instinctively opened the message. My eyes fixated on the words “solid mass lesion.”
Results from my ultrasound test at a hospital in Arlington on Feburary 12, which so happens to be our oldest daughter’s birthday.
I’m no medical expert, but those words were unsettling. I had left my home two hours earlier a healthy man – at least as far as I knew. I returned home acutely aware I had a mass half the size of my right kidney. I had no symptoms. The results, of course, also went to my primary care physician, Dr. Alden Campbell. A few days later, he called me.
“This looks concerning,” he said. “I’m ordering a CT scan.”
The CT scan would confirm or deny my doctor’s suspicions it was cancer. If it were cancer, the CT would also show if it had spread to nearby organs. The CT scan was scheduled for the following week, also at the Arlington hospital. Once again, the results came back quickly.
The radiologist’s report from my initial CT scan on my right kidney.
I didn’t immediately think the term “renal cell carcinoma” was cancer. I’m new to this world. I thought, or hoped, it might mean “pre-cancer.” But Dr. Campbell called me and told me it was indeed cancer. The good news, he said, is it appeared the cancer was contained to the kidney, and had not “metastasized.” That assessment would later be confirmed by my urologist and my surgeon.
“I think we caught this early,” Dr. Campbell told me. “You might have dodged a bullet.”
If I did steer clear of advanced cancer, I owe Dr. Campbell a debt of gratitude. To borrow a catch phrase from COVID, he ordered the kidney scan out of “an abundance of caution.” He had noticed my kidney function bloodwork tests were trending slightly downward.
“I just want to make sure,” he said before the ultrasound.
My good friend and retired cardiologist, Bob Swenson, thinks most doctors wouldn’t have ordered the ultrasound, electing to instead “watch the numbers” going forward. My next appointment with Dr. Campbell wouldn’t have been until September.
Over the course of my life I have occasionally wondered what it would be like to receive news you had cancer. Dr. Campbell’s words were so “matter of fact,” as if I’d been told I had the flu, or bronchitis. Not that I knew it should be dramatic, like “My God, you have cancer!” Or, “I’m very sorry to tell you that you have cancer.” I guess I just didn’t know what to expect.
A few weeks later, I spoke with a friend of mine who is currently in remission from colon cancer. In her case, it was diagnosed late. The cancer had already invaded her liver. It was termed Stage 4 cancer. She has undergone “immunotherapy.” The cancer, for the time being, has been kept at bay.
“You’re entering a new world,” she told me. “You will never be the same.”
That’s for sure. Once word spread, I received phone calls and text messages from people I hadn’t heard from in years. With my cancer diagnosis, I had crossed a line.
Dr. Campbell immediately referred me to a urologist at Skagit Valley Hospital. Dr. Kyle Schuyler showed me the images from the CT scan. It was his opinion the tumor was slow-growing, and could have been there “for years.” He said he could remove my kidney – otherwise known as a “nephrectomy” – at SV Hospital, but thought the rest of my kidney looked healthy and could be saved. He said the best option would be what is termed a “partial nephrectomy.” That procedure, he said, is more complex and would be best performed by a surgeon at University of Washington Medical Center in Seattle. He put in the referral while I was still in the room.
That surgeon would be Dr. Sarah Psutka. It took awhile for the UW and my insurance to approve the referral. But once that happened, we were told we had a “pre-op” appointment on March 30 with Dr. Psukta.
I had done a little research on Dr. Psutka beforehand. It was obvious she had impeccable credentials. She is an Associate Professor of Urology in the Department of Urology at the University of Washington and Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center. She received her undergraduate and medical degrees from Harvard University, and completed urology residency training at the Massachusetts General Hospital. She completed a Society of Urologic Oncology Fellowship in Urologic Oncology at the Mayo Clinic, and concurrently obtained her Masters’ in Clinical and Translational Science. In our one-hour sit down with her, she was as advertised. She was knowledgeable, professional and kind.
“You’ll be well cared for here,” she told me.
She noticed my UW shirt. I told her we were Husky football season ticket holders. A native of Toronto, Canada, she said she was a hockey fan, and pulled out her phone to proudly show us photos of her two girls who are members of the Seattle Kraken “junior” hockey team.
But I digress. Back to the surgery. She concurred much of the kidney looked healthy and could be saved. But because of the size of the tumor, she would have to do an “open surgery,” as opposed to the less invasive laparoscopic/robotic procedure. That meant a large incision, a minimum three-night stay in the hospital and a longer recovery. She said, if during the three-to-four-hour procedure it’s deemed unsafe to do the partial nephrectomy, she will remove the entire kidney. She termed my cancer “Stage 1B.”
A CT scan of my right kidney and tumor, which at 6 cm (or 2 1/2 inches) in diameter is considered large. The tumor is described as “exophytic,” meaning most of it is outside the kidney.
We then found out there’s a price to pay for a world-class surgeon. She’s in demand. She told us we were likely looking at surgery in “June or July.” Fortunately, we received a call the next day that the surgery will actually be May 20.
The delay does allow us to travel on May 8 to our niece’s wedding near Santa Cruz, California. I can also attend a speaker event at my church (a former UW football player and chaplain) on April 18 that I am in charge of. I had this crazy idea surgery was imminent after our March 30 meeting with Dr. Psutka.
Funny how “life happens when you’re making plans. ” I’ll be relieved when the cancer mass is removed as I continue along this uncertain journey that began the day I heard the “C Word.” I’m hopeful for another “C Word” – the one that stands for “Cured.”
Our camera at our cabin at Lake Cavanaugh on March 10 showed 29 degrees and some measurable inches of snow.On the same day, more than 1,300 miles to the south, it’s 80 degrees and blue skies at our condo in Palm Springs, California.
The weather back home is frightful. Meanwhile, here in sunny Palm Springs, California, it’s absolutely delightful.
March is our getaway month from the gray and dreary Pacific Northwest winters, the annual rite of passage we’ve come to know as “The Big Dark.” Vicki has learned to put up with the drip, drip rain and overcast skies during our 41 years living in the PNW. But by March, she’s had enough. You can take the girl out of California (Sacramento-raised, to be exact). But you can’t take the California out of the girl. So you take the girl back to California.
We spent a day exploring Joshua Tree National Park. Framed in the foreground by a Joshua Tree, here we’re looking at Split Rock.
Over the decades, our default escape has been Arizona, and occasionally Hawaii. This year, we decided to mix it up. We had never been to Palm Springs. Don’t know why it took us so long. It’s an upscale, desert oasis, famous for its stunning mid-century, modern architecture and Hollywood celebrity history. Joshua Tree National Park is only a hour’s-drive to the north.
We’ve been to a few national parks – Yosemite, Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons, and of course North Cascades, Rainier and Olympic parks in our state. Joshua Tree is just different. It’s a surreal collection of otherworldly desert landscapes defined by twisted Joshua Trees and massive quartz, boulder formations that leave you scratching your head, thinking “how did those rocks get there?”
Intersection Rock in the most climbed rock in the park, with more than 40 climbing routes. We watched a couple climbers in action on this sunny-but-brisk day.Vicki walks through one of several “slot canyons” along the Wilderness Trail.That’s me by one of the “split canyons.” I wasn’t aware Joshua Tree National Park was about 4,500 elevation. We went from 75 degree temps in Palm Springs (about 500 feet elevation) to high 40s in the park. Good thing we brought some extra layers of clothing.Vicki along a trail through an open valley of Joshua Trees. Our destination was the remains of “Ryan Ranch,” a historic adobe structure built in 1896.And this is what the remains of that decaying structure – well two, if you count me – looks like. We also found the remains of a capped well. Homesteader J.D. Ryan operated the nearby Lost Horse Mine here.At Keys View (elevation 5,185 feet) on our second tour of the national park. Sweeping views of the Coachella Valley (Sultan Sea, Palm Desert and Palm Springs)Vicki in front of “Heart Rock,” the destination of a hike in high 80-degree temperatures on our second visit to the park.That’s me in front of “Arch Rock,” same hike.
Another highlight was to ride the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway. It’s a 2.5-mile ride in the world’s largest rotating cable car that climbs nearly 6,000 feet to a mountain station near the top of Mount San Jacinto.
It’s a 10-minute ride from the valley station, elevation 2,643 feet, to the mountain station, at 8,516 feet. There’s only two cable cars in operation. Each holds 80 people. March is a busy month for the tram. We had to wait nearly two hours for our ride to the top.There’s a 30-degree difference in temperature from the valley station to the mountain station. We brought a couple layers of clothing. The high in Palm Springs was 97 on this day. I figured it was in the low 60s here at the top.The observation decks offer expansive views of the Coachella Valley towns of Palm Springs, Desert Hot Springs and even the Sultan Sea, 50 miles to the southeast. Joshua Tree National Park would be on the cusp of the mountain range you see near the top of the photo.
Most of our time here is spent soaking in the southwest sun. Walks around the neighborhood in the cool of the morning, usually followed by a round of tennis. Relaxing and reading by the pool. Exploring downtown Palm Springs. And maybe best of all, eating dinner on our spacious, private patio in shorts and t-shirts while basking in 70-degree temps. That’s the California life Vicki remembers from her youth.
A familiar scene: Me in the pool and Vicki at poolside.Tennis truly is a year-round sport here in the Coachella Valley. So it’s no surprise court time can be hard to come by. But we have this one all to ourselves every morning in the community of condos we’re staying. We haven’t played this much tennis together since we were dating in college. Let’s just say our game could use some work. We also play pickelball, but in the evenings at a nearby public court, as trying to secure court time in the mornings is next to impossible.
It’s supposed to reach the 90s later this week, and approach 100 degrees by next week. Given the alternative – Midwest-like temperatures at home – I think we can handle that.
Every Thursday evening of the year is “Village Fest,” a pedestrian-only street fair on Palm Canyon Drive in downtown Palm Springs. It features more than 200 local vendors selling food, art and crafts, plus live entertainment. About a six-block area is closed to vehicles from 5 p.m.-10 p.m. Free admission to the two art museums in town are also in play from 5 p.m.-8 p.m.Well, here’s a real dish. Vicki at the Palm Springs Art Museum, which is free on Thursday evenings during Village Fest. The place was packed this evening, when temps in Palm Springs rose to 107.Vicki and I at the “Forever Marilyn” statue in downtown Palm Springs. The 26-foot-tall sculpture depicts Marilyn, a popular sex symbol of the 1950s and early 1960s, in her iconic pose from the 1955 film “The Seven Year Itch.” The sculpture has been somewhat controversial for its suggestive nature. Marilyn rented a 3,000-square-foot home known as the “Marilyn Monroe Doll House,” which recently sold for over $3 million. Even today, 64 years after her death, her legend in Palm Springs casts a long shadow.Bob Hope is among many Hollywood stars featured in the “Walk of the Stars” in downtown Palm Springs. A boulevard in the area is also named for him. Interstate 10 connecting Palm Springs to Palm Desert and Indio is named for Sonny Bono, former Palm Springs mayor. I also noticed roads named for Dinah Shore, Gene Autry and Gerald Ford, to name a few.Frank Sinatra’s “Twin Palms” estate is a five-minute walk from our condo in what is known as the “Movie Colony” neighborhood, where many Hollywood stars had homes. Sunny Palm Springs was a convenient getaway for many famous actors because of its proximity to Los Angeles. A “two-hour rule” was a 1930s-1950s Hollywood studio contract stipulation requiring actors to be within a two-hour drive of LA studios for last-minute reshoots. Sinatra’s historic mid-century home is now a luxury event venue for private parties. We couldn’t get past the locked gate to see the house with its iconic piano-shaped pool. We have also walked by the former homes of Bob Hope, Bing Crosby and Jack Benny.Marilyn Monroe’s former house in the Vista Las Palmas neighborhood, known as the “Marilyn Monroe Doll House.” It still has the iconic pink mailbox.Elvis Presley’s “Honeymoon Hideaway,” where Elvis and Priscilla Ann were married. The couple lived there early in their marriage.We like to attend churches from various denominations and backgrounds when we travel. We visited Wellspring Church, a multi-ethnic and inter-generational church in nearby Indian Wells. Led by a dynamic African-American pastor, Ricky Jenkins, the church draws around 5,000 worshippers each weekend over the course of four services (a Saturday evening service and three on Sunday morning). Worshipping at Mission Hills Covenant in Rancho Mirage. Ran into a couple from Bethany Covenant who also have a cabin on Lake Cavanaugh. Here’s another coincidence. The lead worship singer in this photo (with the string guitar) was recognized by our daughter, Sonja, on this blog. She texted me “I know that guy.” She said he was a worship leader for a church in Lynnwood she attended when she was a student at Seattle Pacific. So I approached him the next Sunday, and he confirmed it. He remembered Sonja and her friends. His name is Pete Wilson. He moved to the Palm Springs area a few years ago. He’s now on staff at Mission Hills as worship director.
My brother, John, with his wife, Brenda, at Super Bowl LX in Santa Clara, California. I’m a sports fan, but John is probably an even bigger fan – and that’s saying something.
Buy or sell? That’s the question my brother and sister-in-law faced.
John and Brenda have been loyal Seahawk season ticket holders for 23 years. Sunday’s Super Bowl game in Santa Clara, California was the fourth in franchise history. But until this year, going to this annual, mega-sporting event was never an option.That changed in 2026.
After the Seahawks defeated the LA Rams in the NFC Championship game, John and Brenda learned they had won for the first time a “lottery” for season-ticket holders. That meant they could purchase Super Bowl tickets at reasonable, season-ticket prices. “Reasonable,” in this case, was $1,000 per ticket. That’s a bargain compared to what the general public paid, where the cheapest ticket was $6,000.
John told me the other day they probably could have sold their tickets for $7,000 apiece. But what price do you place on making a memory? John and Brenda decided to make it a road trip. They drove, spending time in Oregon and northern California on the way to Santa Clara and back.
“It was the experience of a lifetime,” he told me as they passed Centralia on their way home, five days after the game.
Sure, there were blips along the way. John said he only packed a light coat for the game. While the temperature hovered around 70 degrees at the start of the game, he discovered it gets cold in the Bay Area in February at night. It took them more than two hours after the game to get from the stadium to their hotel, only three miles away. And that hotel cost $500 per night.
Expensive? Yes. The memories? Priceless.
John and Brenda picked a good one. The Seahawks destroyed the New England Patriots, 29-13, for their second Super Bowl title.
“A night we’ll never forget,” John said after the game.
The view of the field from John and Brenda’s seats, several hours before Kickoff. .The temperature dropped dramatically once the sun set at Levi’s Stadium in Santa Clara. Brenda was better prepared for the cooler temps.The set up for the “Bad Bunny” performance at halftime, which Brenda said was probably a lot easier to follow on TV.
Social media platforms X (formerly Twitter) and Instagram blew up the evening of January 6 when Washington quarterback Demond Williams dropped the bombshell he was entering the transfer portal. The star signal caller just four days earlier had signed a new NIL deal with the school, which many assumed to be binding.
Growing up in western Washington, I naturally gravitated to being a fan of the Seattle SuperSonics, Seahawks, Mariners, and yes, University of Washington football and basketball.
As I grew older, however, my passion for the three professional sports teams waned. A big piece of that disenchantment I attribute to my career in sports journalism. As a newspaper insider, I guess I knew too much about “how the sausage was made.” Highly-paid pro athletes seem entitled. Some were hard to talk to. Reporters often had to grovel for interviews. I experienced that first-hand. Too many prima donnas. Too many meaningless games.
But UW? I’ll have to admit purple and gold runs in my veins. It’s in my DNA. That passion had never wavered. My earliest memories of sports are listening to UW football games on the radio on Saturday afternoons with my dad. Seattle’s first pro sports team, the Sonics, didn’t arrive until 1967, when I was 13. My dad took me to my first UW football game when I was 9. I was hooked that day in 1963. I loved the pageantry of college football. The marching bands. The buildup to kickoff. The raucous student section. Media access to players was no problem. We knew their names. They spent four seasons at a school, sometimes five with a redshirt. They played for the love of the game. They weren’t paid.
Of course that was so Don James-era. It’s all changed now. College football in 2026 is broken. It’s NFL free agency without binding contracts and guardrails. Washington quarterback Demond Williams shocked the college football world when he announced last evening (January 6) he was entering the transfer portal for a better deal, just four days after he had signed a one-year, near top-of-the-market NIL deal with UW for $4 million, according to The Seattle Times.
I was perplexed, but at least tried to understand, why frontline players Adam Mohammad and Raiden Vines-Bright transferred to California and Arizona State, respectively. But Demond? Or should we call him “Demand?” That was shocking. To quote Chevy Chase in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, “if I woke up tomorrow with my head sewn into the carpet I wouldn’t be more surprised than I am right now.”
That’s because Demond Williams was the face of UW football. Coach Jedd Fisch made him so. He brought Demond with him from Basha High School in Chandler, Arizona. He played him his freshman season, many times in odd situations over the more experienced Will Rogers, just to get his feet wet. Fisch generated significant hype for his dual-threat quarterback by making bold predictions about him becoming a first-round NFL draft pick and a Heisman finalist. When Demond struggled against Ohio State, Michigan, Wisconsin and Oregon this past season Jedd was quick to defend him. “He’s just 18 years old,” he said. Next year’s team, built around Demond, was expected to be College Football Playoff-caliber. The three-year plan was on schedule. The coach and quarterback seemed joined at the hip.
Sources say that relationship went south in a hurry yesterday afternoon (January 6). Someone had apparently reached out to Demond. The quarterback told his coach he could get more money elsewhere. The exchange got heated. Since bringing Demond to UW, Jedd has seemingly bent over backwards to accommodate him. Now it seems Demond has stabbed his coach in the back.
The timing of Demond’s next step that day, his announcement on Instagram, may haunt him for awhile. He announced his intentions during the memorial service for a fellow UW soccer player who died of cancer. This is bad optics. A large contingent of UW football players and coaches were at that memorial service for Mia Hamant, and learned of Demond’s farewell on social media. Demond was not at the service.
Jedd wasn’t the only Fisch who felt betrayed. His wife, Amber, posted this on Instagram: “Announces during a funeral of an athlete at University of Washington how disgusting! While all of his other teammates were at the funeral!”
Oh, the drama. And frankly it’s been building since July 1, 2021, when “Name, Image and Likeness” (NIL) was adopted by the NCAA. It essentially allowed student athletes to be paid for promoting products or services. Then along came revenue sharing. On July 1, 2025, an NCAA antitrust settlement allowed Division 1 schools to share up to $20.5 million of their athletics revenue to pay players. But that doesn’t include money from unlimited “NIL collectives,” or third-party organizations funded by donors, boosters, businesses and fans. Football programs like Ohio State, Oregon, Texas Tech, Texas A&M, Michigan and Texas are believed to have rosters in the neighborhood of $35-$40 million. There was supposed to be tighter regulation of NIL deals. There was supposed to be “a salary cap.” It hasn’t happened.
The promise of a huge payday has fueled high-priced quarterbacks in the transfer portal. It’s no coincidence that the “Final Four” of the College Football Playoffs are led by transfer quarterbacks in their first season as starters with their respective teams.
The four remaining teams in the college football playoffs were all fueled by transfer quarterbacks. Clockwise, from upper left: Indiana’s Fernando Mendoza (transfer from California); Oregon’s Dante Moore (UCLA); Miami’s Carson Beck (Georgia) and Ole Miss’ Trinidad Chambliss (Ferris State).
More than 4,500 Division 1 players have entered the transfer portal in 2026. The winter portal window officially opened on January 2, and runs through January 16. Quarterbacks usually command the highest prices. CBS Sports recently did a position-by-position salary price range (see below). The survey, done before the portal opening, now actually seems a little low as Texas Tech last week signed Cincinnati quarterback Brendan Sorsby to a $5 million deal. It’s been reported Demond is getting up to $6 million at his next stop. LSU and Miami have been mentioned as schools to watch.
For whatever it’s worth, I met Demond’s parents before the Michigan game in Ann Arbor. I told them “you must be proud of your son. We’re glad he’s a Husky.”
Less than three months later, he’s a Husky no more.
Michigan Stadium is called the “Big House” for good reason. With a seating capacity of 107,601 – and it usually exceeds that number – it is the largest stadium in the U.S., and third largest in the world. This was our view at the October 18 game in Ann Arbor between Washington and Michigan. Note the levels of luxury suites on each side of the field.
OK, I’ve done a stint in the Big House. Not time in prison, thankfully, but about five hours in the “Big House” that is Michigan Stadium.
I was overwhelmed by the size of the stadium. You could get lost here.
I was underwhelmed by the setting and architecture. It’s basically just a big concrete bowl. It sits in the middle of flatland Michigan, not the shores of Lake Washington where the “Greatest Setting in College Football” resides. For as big as the stadium is, it also didn’t feel that “loud.”
What screams here is “big-time college football.” This is a bucket list I had to check. And I’m glad I did.
Some thoughts from a warm and breezy, mid-October Saturday afternoon in Ann Arbor:
THEY SHOW UP EARLY: My daughters kid me that my sporting event philosophy is “arrive early, stay late.” Michigan fans show up early. We arrived two hours early, and half the stadium was full. Every seat – 110,701 on this day – was filled by kickoff. We encountered the same thing last year in Iowa City. It’s a late-arriving crowd at Husky Stadium, for sure. Sometimes, it’s outright embarrassing. Not Michigan. Maybe it’s a Midwest thing. Maybe I should live in the Midwest.
IN MY MIND’S EYE: It’s always a little surreal walking for the first time into a stadium you’d seen countless times on television. One of the first things I noticed was the familiar brick wall that rings the field. For whatever reason, I remembered that from a UW-Michigan game I watched on my family’s black-and-white TV in 1969. Bo Schembechler’s Wolverines took Jim Owens’ Huskies to the woodshed that day, 45-7.
BIG-TIME BRAND: Michigan’s iconic blue and maize winged helmets. A sea of maize in the stands. Two massive video scoreboards at the north and south ends of the stadium, each emblazoned on the back side with a giant, block “M.”
The back side of the giant video scoreboards on each end of Michigan Stadium.
HAIL TO THE VICTORS: The Michigan band in pregame playing “Hail to the Victors,” one of the most famous college fight songs in the land. And Michigan fans thrusting their right arms forward, in unison, with each “Hail! Hail!” The Wolverines running onto the field, but not before each player jumped to touch the giant “Go Big Blue” banner. Both teams share an entrance to the field at the 50-yard-line, unlike any other stadium I know of. Not ideal. Ask Ohio State and Michigan State.
An empty Michigan Stadium at night. The opening below the “M” on the far side is the player entrance to the field.
EVERYTHING’S BIGGER: The stadium is immense. This day’s game drew 110,701, which was the stadium’s 327th consecutive game with more than 100,000 fans. That’s 40,000 more than Husky Stadium’s capacity of 70,138. I’m told there’s not a bad seat in the house. Several levels of luxury suites tower over both sides of the field. Something tells me a lot of money is flowing into the football program’s coffers. All remaining games this season are sold out. Season tickets for 2026 are sold out.
The UW-Michigan game drew 107,601, the 327th consecutive game over 100,000. The stadium record is 115,109, which was set in 2013 in a night game with Notre Dame.Two of Michigan’s 12 national-title teams that are displayed on the outer wall of a concourse.
VICTORS HAILED: We walked around the stadium before the game. They certainly hail their victors here. The school’s 12 national championships are proudly displayed on the outer wall of a concourse. Washington claims two natties.
EVICTED FROM THE BIG HOUSE: As for the game, the Huskies played Michigan to a 7-7 tie at the half. Then the Wolverines, clearly the bigger and more physical team on the offensive and defensive lines, showed who owned the Big House. Demond Williams threw three interceptions. The Wolverines threw the Huskies up against the wall, roughed ’em up a little, and then kicked them out the door. Michigan 24, UW 7.
Vicki and I before during pre-game. The stadium would be full by the time the game began.Some Michigan tailgaters along our walk to the stadium. The game started at noon. Michigan fans started tailgating at 6 a.m.We met two Husky fans, brothers Dale and John Galvin, at our hotel in Dearborn the night before the game. They had already made parking reservations and invited us to ride with them. Great guys.Dale Galvin has been a Husky football season tickets for nearly 60 years. His cap is adorned with buttons from different bowl games UW has played in. He said his favorite bowl was the 1984 Orange Bowl, when UW upset heavily-favored Oklahoma. Dale has a law degree from UW, and owns a realty law firm in Mountlake Terrace.
An aerial photo of cozy Martin Stadium, home of the Washington State Cougars, in Pullman. The Compton Union Building is just beyond the Cougar Football Complex behind the west end zone, and the Terrell Library behind that.
I don’t know why it took me so long. I was born in Washington, have lived all but nine of my 70-plus years in this state, yet until recently had never set foot on the campus of Washington State University in Pullman.
But there we were, in quaint Martin Stadium, surrounded by Cougar fans, on a sun-splashed, late September afternoon in the Palouse, to watch WSU and UW play in the Apple Cup. It was glorious.
Vicki and I at the September 20 Apple Cup in Martin Stadium. That’s the Cougar Football Complex in the background. We were surrounded by Cougar fans, who were absolutely giddy that on this day beer was sold for the first time in the stadium (how ironic!). I asked the beer-drinking guy next to me if this was his first beer in the stadium. “No, it’s my fourth,” he replied. He was on beer No. 4 for the game.
I’m sorry I was late to the party. And having had many conversations with Coug alums over the years, I understand life at Wazzu was one big party!
I had always wanted to watch an Apple Cup in Pullman. But I could never summon the courage to make the trip over the mountains in late November, when the contest was traditionally played. I preferred to watch those games –usually played in sub-freezing temperatures, and occasionally in howling snow storms – from the comfort of my family-room couch.
That all changed when the Huskies left the Pac-12 for the promise of a more lucrative future in the Big Ten, leaving the Cougars to fend for themselves. The bold move – which WSU fans will never forgive UW for – relegated the Apple Cup to a non-conference matchup in September.
I, for one, certainly wasn’t complaining when the 117th Apple Cup kicked off at 4:40 p.m. amid 80-degree temperatures and a slight breeze. UW won the game decisively, 59-24, though for three quarters it was much closer than that. The game was okay, not great. It was the experience I won’t forget.
The Huskies drive for yet another touchdown in their 59-24 victory over the Cougars, a game that was more competitive than the final score indicated.
My perception of Pullman had always been colored by Apple Cup humor. You know, the back-and-forth jokes between the two schools in the days leading up to the rivalry game, including the one about directions to Pullman: “Go east until you smell it. Then go south until you step in it.”
Many WSU fans perceive UW fans as “arrogant,” and chafe at Huskies referring to Cougars as their “little brother.” Or, perceiving Cougars as country bumpkins, “Cousin Clem.”
Even legendary UW Coach Don James, who was usually understated and not one to take shots at an opponent, could talk some smack. Once speaking at a spring coaches tour in Portland, James referenced Pullman.
“A tornado went through there,” he said, “and did a million dollars worth of improvements.”
Myself with Bud Withers, and his wife, Velvet, in the WSU Bookstore before the Apple Cup. I’m holding Bud’s book “Too Good to be Through.” It’s the first book written on the Apple Cup, and one I highly recommend. Bud is an award-winning sports writer. We worked together for several years at The Seattle Times.
Husky and Cougar players were also known to talk a little trash. Before the 1987 Apple Cup in Seattle, UW quarterback Chris Chandler said this of the Cougs:
“No matter what happens, they have to go back to Pullman. And I feel sorry for them.”
Shed no tears for the Cougs. They love Pullman – and are fiercely loyal and true to their school.
The Cougar Band plays the school’s fight song before the teams take the field. That’s the student section on the left side of the grandstands across the field. Alcohol wasn’t allowed to be served there, but of course we all know alcohol has been consumed in that section for many decades, as is the case with most schools.
My friend and former colleague, Craig Smith, covered WSU football for The Seattle Times in the 1980s and 1990s. Because the team was his beat, Craig spent a lot of time in Pullman. I remember him telling me he was struck by the tight-knit, bond WSU students seem to have – the sense of family, an “us against the world” mentality while isolated together in the remote town in the northeast corner of the state. Years after graduation, Cougars are drawn “home” to the familiar haunts of ole Wazzu. Craig called this sense of community “Mother Pullman.”
Driving east from the Columbia River on Highway 26, and passing the rolling wheat fields of the Palouse, is the only way to run to the warm embrace of “Mother Pullman.” Can’t say there’s anything memorable between the river and Othello. But once you hit Washtucna, you see the familiar “quilting effect” of the rolling hills, which change from vibrant green in spring to golden brown in the summer. Giant grain elevators proudly proclaim “GO COUGS” in bold letters the closer you get to Pullman.
Finally, NW Davis Way leads you down the hill to the edge of downtown Pullman. Except there’s nothing really special about the downtown. Instead, your eyes are fixed on the big hill behind downtown, and the towering brick buildings that adorn this picturesque, 620-acre campus. Pullman IS Washington State University.
Martin Stadium is not separate from campus, as Husky Stadium is at UW, and Autzen Stadium at the University of Oregon. The stadium is carved into the campus. The Compton Union Building (bookstore) and Terrell and Holland libraries are a couple minutes walk from the stadium, as are several other classroom buildings.
Down Colorado Street, near the frat houses, is the historic “Coug” restaurant and bar, where former WSU coaches Jim Sweeney, Walden, Dennis Erickson, Mike Price and Mike Leach were known to drown their sorrows after a tough loss, or celebrate a big victory. Just east of the stadium, near the indoor practice facility is Ferdinand’s Ice Cream Shoppe and WSU Creamery, which Cougs claim serves the best ice cream on the planet. You can also purchase popular “Cougar Gold” cheese there.
It is here, on this quaint, walkable campus, where memories are made, and lifelong bonds are formed. My friend Dave Harrison, who played football for Jim Walden and remains a die-hard Coug, met his wife at Wazzu.
The terrace along Terrell Library offers great views of the stadium.
“It’s (WSU) a pretty special place for Ann and me,” he said wistfully.
Even Huskies acknowledge this. Perhaps Joe Steele, a star running back for UW in the 1970s, said it best.
“Washington State’s a beautiful place,” Steele told Bud Withers in his recently-released book “Too Good to be Through,” a historical account of the Apple Cup. “The campus, where it sits, the stadium. The Washington experience is one thing – it’s inner-city, it’s got its challenges … one thing about the Cougars, you go to Washington State, you’re Cougars for life.”
1982: When the rivalry got serious
Cougar fans tear down the goal post after WSU stunned heavily-favored UW in the 1982 Apple Cup. The students eventually carried the goal post out of Martin Stadium and dumped it into the Palouse River.
I was a young sportswriter in Oregon working in the office one Saturday afternoon when the Associated Press teletype machine spit out the shocking final score: Washington State 24, Washington 20. It was one of those “I-remember-where-I-was-when-I-heard” moments.
The Huskies entered the game 10-1 and ranked No. 5 in the nation, and only needed to defeat the 2-7-1 Cougars to return to the Rose Bowl for the third consecutive year. UW was behind 21-20 in the waning minutes of the game, but seemed destined to break the hearts of the Cougar faithful when usually-reliable kicker Chuck Nelson lined up for what appeared to be a 33-yard, game-winning field goal. But the referees ruled Nelson’s kick sailed inches wide right, ending his streak of a then NCAA-record 30th consecutive made field goals. It was WSU’s first win over UW in nine years. Instead of a trip to Pasadena, the loss sent the Huskies to the Aloha Bowl.
As a follower of UW sports since my earliest memories (thanks dad!), I had always viewed the Apple Cup as a nice, intrastate rivalry. Back then, in most years neither the Huskies nor the Cougars were very good. Hence, there wasn’t much on the line. But by the late ’70s, the UW football program had become a player on the national stage under James. There was this aura of invincibility under the legendary coach. Not only had James proven he could win big games, his teams usually won when they were supposed to. How could UW lose to such an inferior opponent?
The game in 1982 was also the first Apple Cup played in Pullman in 28 years. Prior to that, WSU’s home games in the rivalry were played in Joe Albi Stadium in Spokane. Bringing the game back to Pullman gave the Cougars more of a – and frankly overdue – home-field advantage. Cougar fans were so excited to beat the Huskies they tore down a goal post, carried it out of the stadium and dumped it in the Palouse River.
My friend Dave was a backup center and special teams player on that ’82 team. He said the Cougs were still smarting from the previous year’s game, in Seattle, when the Huskies won 23-10 in a winner-to-the-Rose Bowl game.
“After watching my high-school teammate (UW receiver and future Seattle Seahawk) Paul Skansi catch a touchdown pass, and the very long bus ride back to Pullman after the 1981 game, I just remember how painful that was for all us,” recalled Dave. “After a miserable season in 1982, returning the favor was pretty big for us Cougs.”
The ’82 game would not be a fluke. The following season in Seattle, the unranked Cougs knocked the Huskies out of the Rose Bowl once again. This time, with a big, physical defensive front, they completely shut down No. 15 Washington, 17-6. Just as the ’81 game stung the Cougs, the back-to-back losses to WSU had to be galling for UW fans.
Although the Huskies have had the upper hand for the most part since, I believe that game 43 years ago was a turning point for the rivalry. That’s when the Apple Cup became more competitive – and jokes and the trash talk began.
Below are the Apple Cup scores from 1974-1985. The 1982 season marked the return of the game to Pullman, andstarted a run where WSU won three games in a four-year span.
A familiar trio on a three-day boat trip: Myself, Kent Oldenburger and Bob Swenson in front of Kent’s 35-foot Trawler “Persistence” at the Blake Island Marina in Puget Sound.
The Three Amigos.
The Three Vikings.
Three Brothers From Different Mothers.
Or, as Bob Swenson suggested, “Oly, Lund and Swen.”
Whatever the moniker, the three of us have shared many journeys over the years. It’s a bond built on family and friendship. Kent Oldenburger is my brother-in-law. Bob was a groomsman in Vicki and my wedding, and a longtime friend.
For the past 13 years, it was the annual Lund family backpack trip that drew us together. This year, we traded the huffing and puffing up steep mountain trails for a more relaxing passage on Puget Sound’s waterways.
Kent owns a 35-foot trawler named “Persistence.” I had been on the boat a couple times on Seattle’s Lake Union, but never west of the Ballard Locks and the open waters of Puget Sound. Beginning at Nickerson Marina, where Kent’s boat is moored, the three-day trip featured overnight stops at idyllic Blake Island and the quaint Kitsap Peninsula town of Poulsbo, also known as “Little Norway.”
The route of our three-hour – make that three-day – tour. You would have had to have watched Gilligan’s Island to get that one.
As we motored along shipping lanes and dodged a Washington State ferry shuttling cars and passengers between Seattle and Bainbridge Island, we saw dolphins, seals, and tribal fishermen setting gill nets with the help of a “skiff boat.”
The fishing boat (in the background), also known as a “purse seiner,” releases a small but powerful “skiff boat,” which drags a wall-like net, eventually closing the loop at the fishing vessel to collect fish.We saw seals in the water and on marina docks. We worried beforehand we wouldn’t get a spot at the marinas at Blake and Poulsbo. You could say these critters helped “seal” our reservations.
The sights and sounds along the way, however, ultimately took a backseat to meaningful discourse. As was the case with our backpack trips, it was an opportunity for deep conversations. We talked about the state of our nation, the state of The Church in America, our “faith walk,” our hopes and dreams for the future, and yes, even our regrets.
Approaching the “small” Ballard Locks on our way to saltwater. The water level of the Salmon Bay Waterway, Lake Union and Lake Washington is higher than the Puget Sound.Waiting for the water level to drop in the “small” locks, Bob takes a picture of the surveyor boat behind us. I didn’t any “forests” in the ocean.
After we “drop down” to sea level, the doors on the Ballard Locks slowly open up, and we’re on our way.
We made it through the trip, including the harrowing Ballard Locks, without incident. And that’s saying something. When it comes to boating, Kent is detail-oriented and knowledgable. His deckhands – first-mate Bob and second-mate Rick – are borderline teachable. But we did learn – well mostly – to correctly tie rope to a boat cleat.
And for that, we owe a debt of gratitude to our captain.
Captain Kent Oldenburger. He put a lot of effort into planning the three-day trip. And while Bob and I had our turns at the wheel, he was always piloting the boat when skill was needed.
Kent-O (Sung to the tune of John Denver’s hit tune “Calypso”)
Aye, Kent-O, the places we’ve been to The things you have taught us The stories we tell Aye, Kent-O, we bow to you, captain We’re the men who have served you So brief, not so well Olole iiiii, ololo ululululu Ololw iiii, ololu uu
Our captain is so high above us. Yet, as the name of the boat suggests, we “persist.”
Some more photos from our trip:
We got a parking spot at Blake Island, southwest of Seattle (background). The marina filled up pretty fast after we arrived. The small boat pulled out, and a yacht Kent said was worth $750,000 pulled up in its place. Tillicum Village over the years has hosted salmon barbecues for tour groups. Vicki and I were here in 1979 for a media event for the Major-League All-Star Game that was played in Seattle. Unfortunately, the tribal village has been closed for the past three years.The trail system on the island. We hiked the four-mile loop trail.We take a break from the hike to survey the scenery on the south end of the island, looking toward both the Vashon and Southworth ferry landings.Kent grilled tri-tip steak for dinner the first day.Dessert and decaf coffee as the sun sets, a perfect setting for meaningful conversations.On our way to Poulsbo, we crossed paths with a Bremerton-bound Washington State Ferry and a smaller, modern “fast ferry” that provides passenger-only service between Seattle, Bremerton and Port Orchard.Approaching Keyport (in the background), and I get a chance to take the wheel.A planned visit on the second day to the United States Naval Undersea Museum in Keyport.The main reason for our visit to the museum was it featured some diver equipment Bob’s father, Bud, wore as a Navy deep sea diver. Bob was excited to see the gear his father used. And it matches the tattoo he has in honor of his father, who died of cancer at a young age, shortly after Bob and Peggy were married.Once again, the threesome, for the obligatory shot in front of Bud Swenson’s gear.Bob and Kent check out what it would have been like to serve on a World War II-vintage submarine.The Poulsbo Marina has a Norwegian flavor. A few of the buildings are painted the colors of the nation’s flag, just like in Norway.A vintage Viking boat in the Poulsbo Marina.The aforementioned Viking ship set sail the next morning, in Liberty Bay.Boys will be boys. Trying to get close to a Heron.And that’s as close as I got before it flew away, but not before he scolded me.Suspect deckhand in the boat cabin.Kent and I on the waterfront with the “Sons of Norway” building in the background.We spent our second night in Poulsbo, which was incorporated in the 1880s. A Norwegian settler suggested it be named “Paulsbo,” after his hometown in Norway. But authorities in the U.S. Post Office in Washington, D.C. misspelled the town’s name, likely misreading the immigrant’s handwritingNight time in Poulsbo. It’s an unique, different lifestyle, this group of boat people who hop from one marina to the next in the Puget Sound during the summer months.Day 3. Heading back to Seattle, and about to pass under the Agate Passage Bridge linking the Kitsap Peninsula to Bainbridge Island.The open water, heading toward Shilshole Bay and the Ballard Locks.
An expensive yacht leaving the Ballard Locks as we waited to enter. He had a Washington State University flag and an Auburn University flag, which was interesting.We passed through the “large” Ballard Locks on our return to Nickerson Marina. The yacht and matching blue “chaser boat” behind us were being delivered to their owner. Kent says as many as 100 boats can fit in the large locks.
Puffs of fog hover over the cove in the quiet of the morning.
Poem by Bob Swenson
It’s another quiet morning Fog tiptoes over the water The surface is a mirror. Inverted hillsides, clear as day.
The coffee’s ready There’s half & half and sugar. The toaster warms the bread There’s jam in the fridge.
Peggy Swenson paddleboarding on Lake Cavanaugh, with Whitehorse Mountain and Three Fingers in the background.Boat driver
We discuss the plans for the day And wade through the headlines. The world’s a mess. What time is the game?
I think I’ll take the boat out Or maybe the paddle board. We’ll play cornhole after lunch.
The days are long. It stay light till 9. The water’s warm even where it’s deep. There’s nothing better than summer at the lake.
A leisurely, evening cruise around the lake.Peggy throws a bag in the Apple Cup of cornhole, pitting the Swensons (with UW bags) against the Lunds (with WSU bags), complete with Cougar and Husky sound effects. The Swensons cleaned our clocks. But since they were playing with UW bags, I felt like we all won.Longtime friends pose for a photo as our three-day stint at our lake cabin comes to a close.
