For my first career, I was a banker in Charlotte, North Carolina. For my second career, I am currently a golf professional in coastal Mississippi. For my third career, should I be so lucky, I am going to be a father/son sports trip travel planner.

My nine year old son and I have formally now done Dallas, Boston, Memphis, Detroit, Los Angeles, Houston, and Cleveland. We’ve informally done Miami, Chicago, and New York City as part of family trips. And we’ve done Charlotte, Atlanta, and New Orleans multiple times with our eyes closed.

There’s nothing quite like these trips and the bonds that they build. And as we learn more and our tastes change, so do the trips. So for the first time last week, the father/son expanded into father/son/granddaddy.

You’ll have to ask him, but I bet he’ll be back next year.

—

The first rule of these trips is that there is no such thing as a perfect trip. Stuff will happen. That’s just a part of the deal.

The second rule is that there will be a set itinerary of games and events but plenty of room for surprises.

The last rule is that each location does not have to be sexy or glamorous, just real. (abk is less Disney World, more Cleveland.)

And as such, we gassed up the car and headed north.

—

The trip was awesome. Absolutely awesome. But it was so imperfect, it was laughable. I mean, seriously, strap in.

After an absolutely beautiful first day of driving, our first real stop at the request of my retired Air Force father in law was the United States Air Force Museum in Dayton, Ohio. As we literally pulled into the parking lot, it started pouring rain. We had one small umbrella. My son is the size of a small adult. I am 6’4”. My father in law is even taller. I will never forget walking through history completely soaking wet. Good times.

By the time we left, the sun was shining, and it was time for Charlotte FC at Columbus Crew in Columbus, Ohio. It was an incredible vibe until halftime when the severe weather sign popped up on the Jumbotron and asked everyone to seek shelter. The Crew stadium is super awesome and super intimate, but it is not built for 15,000 fans to seek shelter together. An hour later, the weather passed, and awesomeness resumed.

The following day, I did something I had never done in my life: I walked out of a restaurant without paying. Not on purpose, of course. It just happened. We were just outside of Columbus at a local pizza joint, and when we were done we just left. Fifteen minutes down the road it hit me, and I called the restaurant laughing, gave them my credit card, and apologized profusely.

A couple of hours later, we arrived at our beautiful downtown Cleveland hotel, only to be informed that starting at 10:30pm that night through the following morning, the water in the entire building would be turned off. No shower, no bathroom, no nothing. Brilliant. I was hungry and thirsty, so we went straight to the hotel lounge. They had this beautiful mango orange tequila drink that would hit the spot. I ordered it immediately, and to this second, I have still not received it. I can only laugh.

The following day, apparently, the airline world shut down due to some CrowdStrike/Microsoft thing. I would have never had a clue except for the next day I was playing in a 110 person golf event, and these people were flying in from all over the United States. All of a sudden, our Discord group chat started blowing up. All flights are cancelled. Literally all of them. It didn’t affect me as I was already there, but I felt for everyone else. But like the sickos that we golfer junkies are, everyone, no matter where they lived, jumped in a car and started driving. 108 of the 110 made it. Unreal.

I couldn’t think too long about this issue because midday, my car battery died in the middle of a Cleveland intersection. We were barely able to get it restarted and went straight to the local dealership. $650 and a few wasted hours later, we were back in business. Fancy ass cars and their fancy ass batteries.

The following day at the historic Firestone Country Club in Akron, Ohio was damn near perfect. Beautiful courses, great weather, new friends, and I played well. However, on my 36th hole of the day almost ten hours after I began, I started feeling weird. Not bad. Not good. Weird. I stayed focused, birdied the last hole, and shook everyone’s hand. But I needed a restroom. And some water. And a restroom. And some water. And another restroom. Eventually, I made it back to the hotel.

I still felt a little unusual the following morning, but I made the decision to make a slight detour for one final excursion. The weather said it would be mild and cloudy in Pittsburgh, and I had heard that PNC Park was incredible. We arrived, met a college teammate of mine, and then the sun came out and it felt like we were sitting on the Equator. The laughs I had with my old college teammate were the best medicine of the day, and then we started the trek home.

My son is infatuated with Cracker Barrel, so we finally, after six days, took him to Cracker Barrel. It was near closing time, there were only a few tables in use, but all of the people there appeared annoyed. One wanted a manager. One yelled at the waitress. It was downright weird. Our meal was fine, and then we made our way over to our final hotel, unaware of one last hurdle we would need to overcome.

Due to the CrowdStrike/Microsoft thing, the hotel still could not make key cards, so the worker on call had to literally walk us to our room and unlock it for us. If we wanted to go to the pool, we would need their assistance. Workout room? Assistance. Luckily, we had already eaten and were wiped out. No pool. No workout. No assistance needed once we were in.

—

When I say the trip was awesome, I mean the trip was awesome. Each adventure always has a few hiccups, but this one made me laugh. Something or some things happened every single day. As a seasoned traveler now, I know that is simply part of the journey.

Although I never need to have a car battery die in an intersection in Cleveland ever again. Ever.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

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“Love your dream until it loves you back.”- Nike

Along the journey, there have been many firsts. Some good, some bad, some ugly, but all important.

This past Monday and Tuesday, I experienced a new first, one that I hope and plead will offer me some useful feedback for the future.

Because instead of spending a few days in North Carolina with my family and friends, I chose to test myself against my peers across the state of Mississippi.

And I failed miserably.

—

I arrived to the golf course at 11:15am Monday for my 12:36pm tee time excited, nervous, and cautiously optimistic. Though the vast majority of my time over the past few months had been spent as a manager and teacher instead of a player, I still knew how to play. But for every scorcher I had, I had three stinkers. But I knew it was in there.

Unfortunately for me, most of my peers experience the opposite, three scorchers for every stinker, plus a lifetime of experience. But I wasn’t playing them, I was playing the golf course, and I was playing myself.

I started fine, parring the first four holes and then making a good bogey on five. Then, inexplicably, I fell apart, and less than an hour later, I was seven over par. Then, the literal storm came, pausing the figurative storm for two hours and 53 minutes. Two hours and 53 minutes of nothing. I became stiff, hungry, and disinterested. I texted my family in North Carolina. Given the circumstances, I definitely wish I was there. With eight holes still to play, we resumed play at 5:45pm. On the way back out, I stopped by the bar. Give me all your snacks. I’m starving. I was truly pondering doing an Uber Eats order for barbecue. But I digress.

We finally finished our 18 holes at 7:36pm, seven hours to the minute after we started. I shot 84, good for next to last, and I lost my rangefinder. One of my playing partners shot 85, good for worst, and my other playing partner finished the round barefooted. (Don’t ask.) Certainly a day I will never forget.

I wondered what I was missing in North Carolina.

—

After grabbing a sandwich, I arrived home at roughly 9pm. My tee time Tuesday morning was at 8am, and it takes me a minimum of three hours to get my body going in the morning. The good news was that I had very little time to reflect on the nightmare of a day.

I was among the first back to the golf course Tuesday. I am a professional, so I will act as such. But what I really wanted to do was fly to North Carolina and soak in my sister’s pool. My body felt like it had been hit by a truck, and I wondered how in the world I was going to hit a golf ball today.

Luckily, or unluckily, it only took two holes to answer that question. After an 8 on my second hole, my round was over before it began. But I’m a professional, so I will act as such, and I strung together a couple of birdies and a few good stretches between the horrible holes. I shot 85, good for a two day total of 169.

Dead freaking last. That’s a new one.

—

After a four hour nap that afternoon, I had dinner with my boss Tuesday night. Always supportive of me and my insane goals, he offered me this friendly reminder. When I was shooting in the high 60s and low 70s, I was practicing for hours every day. Now, I operate a wildly popular golf course. I teach and coach all afternoon long and help others get better. I take my son to Pelicans games and collect sports cards. I eat dinner with my family. I travel. My body is older and stiffer. The amount of hours I practice now is very different. Thus, the results are different.

—

It’s been a long, long time since I’ve seen my name at the bottom of any leaderboard. Maybe once or twice in childhood sports, and I fixed that. Maybe once or twice as a banker, and I fixed that.

So even though it sucks to finish last, the experience provided me some excellent feedback.

Change something, so this never happens again.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

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“There is nothing glamorous about what I’ve been doing for the past five years when it comes to golf. I had to do the work. The gains that I have experienced have been directly commensurate with the amount of work I’ve put in.”-Benj

On April 17, 2019, the golf journey officially began. On April 19, 2019, I became a member at Shell Landing Golf Club in Gautier, Mississippi, and promptly shot a 101 for my first round. The next day I shot an even 100.

Look at that…already improving.

—

Two Sundays ago, almost five years later, I rolled out of the golf shop at 4pm and drove straight to the first tee to give a playing lesson. The young man that I have been teaching for a couple of years had gotten very good, and on the top of his wish list is to beat me, which he tries to do once per month.

He may eventually do it, but it was not going to be this day, as I started birdie birdie birdie from the big boy tees, barely having to putt over the first three holes. We played nine holes, I made one bogey, four birdies, and four tap in pars, barely breaking a sweat to shoot three under par.

That evening, I felt very satisfied with my progress. It had taken nearly 1500 days of daily work.

—

Last Tuesday, my parents were in town visiting their grandkids, and both my mom and dad were able to join me for eighteen holes out at Shell Landing. Unlike the previous Sunday, on this day I started bogey bogey, uncertain as to what the day might bring. I quickly rectified the situation with a near birdie on three, birdie on four, and birdie on seven. On the very windy day, I thought if I could shoot around 75, I would be satisfied and my parents might be impressed. I made two sloppy bogeys on twelve and thirteen, but entered the home stretch needing just one more birdie to accomplish my goal. On sixteen, to a tough back pin, I stuffed it to about five feet, then turned to my mother and told her that shot was for her. Then, with me ready to raise the roof, I promptly missed the putt.

I tapped in for 77 on eighteen, a fair score for the day, and certainly one of the best I had ever shot with my parents in tow.

—

This past Monday, I played our PGA Section’s annual spring four ball tournament with my boss in Hattiesburg, MS. Exhausted from a busy week and staying up late to watch the Pelicans game Sunday night in its entirety, I rolled up ready to rock on about five hours of sleep. I did this on purpose, knowing that if I could just keep my mind quiet, I had developed the tools over the past five years to be successful.

I almost made a hole in one on my fourth hole, and tapped it in for birdie. I made a great birdie on hole ten, and then I made my first eagle ever in a tournament on the thirteenth hole, a long par five that I played essentially perfectly.

My boss and I tied for eighth in the twenty one team field of PGA Professionals, one spot outside the money. That was the third time now I have been one outside the money, so it’s coming. Outside of one hole, I couldn’t have been more pleased.

—

This is a journey about doing the work to get better. It’s not about making money playing golf. It’s not about bragging about shooting scores thirty, yes thirty, strokes lower. It’s about patience, diligence, sacrifice, and doing the work.

Nearly 1500 days. The game cannot be fooled.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

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Because I wake up at 4:30am every Saturday morning, I usually avoid Friday night basketball games in New Orleans. Helping run a bustling golf course on four hours sleep is not a good look.

But there are exceptions to every rule.

—

Victor Wembanyama, the 2023 number one draft pick in the NBA, is the exception to every rule. He is a foot taller than my 6’4” frame, has an outlandish wingspan, and possesses a silky smooth three point jump shot usually found in players a foot or more shorter. He plays for the near dead last place San Antonio Spurs, who just happened to be in town this past Friday night.

Under any other circumstances, Friday night against the Spurs would not get my mojo going, but with my the opportunity to see Wemby up close and personal, I promised my son we would go.

To make it worthwhile, I also promised my son I would get tickets as close to the Spurs bench as possible so we could really take in the show.

—

Friday rush hour traffic. A major accident that closed I-10. A very busy Friday workday and an impending very busy Saturday workday. Four hours of sleep. The Spurs. Should I go on?

Anyways, I put on my game face. As soon as we get there, it will all be worth it. And it was. As soon as we laid eyes on Wemby, we couldn’t really stop staring. It was mesmerizing. What kind of car must he drive? How long are those leggings he is wearing? He is two feet taller than that ref.

Oh, we had a blast. It was a good game, and Wemby finished one assist shy of a triple double. We had awesome seats, and the popcorn was extra buttery. It WAS worth all the hassle.

But then something special happened.

—

Our seats were on row eight in the general vicinity of the Spurs bench, and once the game ended, a little gap opened up down to row one. I told Banks to walk right on down there. Get close. Enjoy. Who knows what might happen?

So he did, and I’ll be damned if Wemby didn’t walk right up to him on the way to the locker room and give him a high five! My son was so excited he could have run home from New Orleans! Dad! Dad! His hands are huge! They reached from my fingers to my elbow!

My boy has fist bumped and high fived any number of NBA stars, but none this big (both literally and figuratively). And I finally got one on video so that we could enjoy that moment over and over again.

—

One of the most desirable, if not THE most desirable, basketball cards out there right now is anything with the name Victor Wembanyama on it. My son had gotten a gift card for Easter and was dead set on buying cards. Before he started opening the box he purchased, I joked with him. After last night, I am feeling it. And then he pulled not one, but two Victor Wembanyama cards.

It was a VERY Wemby weekend.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

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I started last week in Montgomery, AL. I finished last week at The Farm. In between, I visited Atlanta, GA, Jackson, MS and spent a few days at home on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. 1,126 miles. My car is tired. My body is more tired.

But it was a great week.

—

At the beginning of every NBA season, my son and I mark must see games. Lakers, Hornets, Wemby (this Friday), and of course, his beloved Boston Celtics. This year, there was an immediate conflict with the March 30th Pelicans-Celtics game in New Orleans. My good friend and Christy’s only cousin had chosen this day to get married in Jackson, Mississippi. My son was furious. I just laughed and immediately begin searching for a replacement venue to go see the Celtics.

In the past couple of years, we had seen them in New Orleans, Boston, Charlotte, and Houston and had an absolute blast doing so. Dallas would be viable. Memphis would be viable. But at the end of the day, we settled on Atlanta. Hawks vs. Celtics. Monday, March 25th.

Little did we know that we would witness NBA history.

—

The month of March, especially the latter two weeks of March, is my busiest time of year. The weather is ideal and everyone wants to play golf. I could teach seven days a week if I wanted. I enjoy the month, but I remain exhausted for a good portion of it.

Having said that, driving 1,126 miles over a March week’s span adds insult to injury, but that’s just how it goes. I finished work around 4:30pm last Sunday evening, then boogied three hours straight to Montgomery, AL, a place I had never been. Upon arrival, I had zero desire to explore, which is unusual for me. I wanted to find the best pizza in town (which I had already done), and I wanted the televisions on March Madness. After a good night’s sleep, we would explore downtown Montgomery briefly Monday morning before heading to Atlanta. (Nothing really to write home about there.)

—

Stop one in Atlanta was Cards HQ, a brand new innovative card store just a couple of miles from Truist Park, where we had a formal tour later that afternoon. My son was so excited to get to the card store he couldn’t stand himself. The first card that we saw upon arrival was a Pokémon card priced at $6,500. I told him he was in the wrong section.

He was looking for Tatum and Acuna. I was looking for Zion and Ohtani. Our eyes, hearts, and wallets were also open to cool surprises, which we both found. Our foray into sports cards has been wildly entertaining and incredibly fun, but I have also used it as a serious introduction to investing for my nine year old son.

—

It was Opening Week 2024 for Major League Baseball, although the Braves home opener still hasn’t happened. As such, the buzz was in the air as we got an intimate tour of the ballpark. We were even able to walk out on the field, though we were threatened with our lives if we got anywhere near the grass.

As a child, my grandparents lived just outside of Atlanta, and we went to Braves games all the time. Those are some of my best childhood memories, and it makes me very excited that my own son has become very fond of the Braves too. There’s just something about the talent and swag of Ronald Acuna Jr. that pulls you in.

—

After a quick check in at our hotel, it was time for the main event. The Boston Celtics are the best team in the NBA, so it was no surprise that midway through the second quarter, they were beating the Hawks by thirty, 68-38. What WAS a surprise was that when the final horn sounded, the Celtics had lost by two. When I say that my son was ready to fight grown men, I am not exaggerating.

As we debriefed on the way back to the hotel, I told Banks I had never seen anything like that before. Well, that was because it had not happened in over 25 years. We were in the building for the biggest blown lead in the NBA in 25 years. My son was upset, but when I say the vibe was electric, THE VIBE WAS ELECTRIC.

—

Now that we knew what the card store was all about, we made a return trip on Tuesday, more prepared for what our investments were going to be. Zion, LaMelo, Ohtani, Acuna, Tatum, and…

… a John Smoltz autograph out of 25. My grandmother, may she rest in peace, would be well pleased.

—

If you know me at all, you know that I have an internal map of where all the best BBQ spots are in the United States. On the drive back to the coast from Atlanta, it’s Chuck’s BBQ in Opelika, AL.

BBQ pork cooked with wood chips, baked beans, and Brunswick stew. If you are ever in charge of my last supper, this would be the menu.

—

After a full week back home of working, teaching, and practicing, it was time to throw on a shirt and tie for only the third time in five years and beeline it to Jackson, MS. I told my buddy that I may be walking in with the bride, but I will be there.

I pulled in about 5:20 for the 5:30 ceremony and exhaled. It was a beautiful event, and thanks to a cavalcade of grandparents and babysitters, Christy and I actually got to have a fun, normal, adult night with a bunch of old and new friends. It felt like about the third time in five years that had happened, but it was lots of fun, nonetheless.

—

We still had The Easter Bunny and Easter lunch left on the docket, some two hours away from where I currently sat, bleary-eyed but extremely fulfilled. I would say that those events ended the week, but that’s not exactly true. The text from my brother, an NC State Wolfpack graduate, later that afternoon ended the week.

🐺 Pack, he said. 🐺 Pack.

If the Hawks can beat the Celtics after being down by 30, anything is possible. I’m pulling for them. Hopefully, I get two more identical texts in the coming week…

…after I have woken up from a very long nap.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

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“You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.”-Wayne Gretzky

Five years ago, I knew nothing. I had an idea of what I wanted, but that was about the extent of it. No specifics. Oodles of unknowns, but I had an idea, and that was a great place to start.

—

Let me begin by saying that the creation is far from perfect. I miss my North Carolina family and friends. I miss my former colleagues. I miss walking around Uptown Charlotte. I miss the Town of Wingate. I miss going to Panthers games, especially when they didn’t suck. I miss Bojangles.

Let me continue by saying that the creation is also reliant on many pieces of dumb luck. I had no idea that I was moving to one of the best small coastal towns in America. I had no idea that I was going to enter the world of outdoor living simultaneous with the onset of COVID, which encouraged an outdoor lifestyle. I had no idea that I would be joining an industry that was just starting an unprecedented boom. I had no idea I would stumble across a hidden gem of a golf course, which of course, is no longer quite so hidden.

But the rest, the rest had to do with that idea. Five years after moving from North Carolina to Mississippi, here we are.

—

I am a 41 year old male, and I love sports, which is no different than any other 41 year old male, except for one slight difference. I love sports so much that I thought it would be neat to build a sports lifestyle and become totally immersed in it. Consider this: sports can be played, sports can be watched on TV, sports can be watched in person, sports can be a part of a cool trip, sports can be bet on, sports memorabilia can be collected, sports can be coached, sports can be taught, and sports can be your job. Most sports lovers might choose a handful of these to enjoy.

Not me. I chose them all.

—

On any given day here on the gulf coast of Mississippi, you may find me doing any of the following: watching my son play basketball or soccer, working as a golf professional at Shell Landing, playing a competitive golf tournament, practicing, teaching adult lessons, coaching my PGA Jr. League, riding down the street to the casinos to place a sports bet, riding over to New Orleans to watch a Pelicans game, watching March Madness on television, listening to NBA Radio, researching the next big sports trip, or trading sports cards with my son. On a hohum normal day, I do five of these. On a good day, I do seven. On a spectacular day, nine. (My body won’t let me do all of them on the same day anymore.)

That may sound extreme, but that’s the lifestyle. That’s the creation. That’s what has come about from an idea, some luck, and lots of observation, studying, and trial and error.

—

Five years ago, I was a complete outsider in so many ways. Five years ago, I was the low man on the totem pole. In this new life, five years ago, I was just a baby. As such, over the last five years, I’ve had to get good at some things to make this creation happen. I had to set my ego aside. I had to learn immense patience. I had to learn to lose and understand that losing is an integral part of getting better. I had to become comfortable with an entirely new risk/reward spectrum. And though I was already pretty good at it, I had to master the skill of being able to pivot and adjust. This is a COMPLETELY different way of life. Not perfect. Damn lucky. Reasonably well designed.

Immersed in sports every single day. What a grand idea.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

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“Never fall to the mercy of excuses. Instead find the problems and create the habits that will have you accomplish your goals.”- VJ Trolio

Let me start by saying I still have a long, long way to go, and I always will.

But damn, that felt good!

—

You must understand that as long as I am heading in the right direction competitively now, I am going to be pleased. I understand how insanely good elite golfers are, I understand what scores awesome golfers shoot, and I understand what scores are necessary to be competitive in the PGA Professional Section events that I now play in.

But I also understand where I was roughly four years and eleven months ago as I started this golf journey at the exact spot where I played my first tournament of 2024 this past Monday.

—

I remember clearly the sight of that empty parking lot. It was an early Sunday morning in April 2019 at Timberton Golf Club in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. When I pulled in, there was not one car in the parking lot. I can’t remember if it was Easter morning or what, but I was there by myself, and I was ready to learn how to play golf.

I remember being on the chipping green behind the clubhouse, excited at each shot that I hit crisply and curious about each shot that I did not. I was just beginning a new life, one that saw me transition from being a banker in downtown Charlotte, North Carolina, to being the only car in the parking lot that day in southern Mississippi.

I was making a ludicrous leap and an absurd bet, and I was blind in knowing what the possibilities actually were. But I started chipping, alone with my thoughts, and for four years and eleven months now, I haven’t stopped.

—

When the 2024 Gulf States PGA Section tournament calendar came out, I immediately identified Timberton as the site of my first tournament of the year. Feelings of nostalgia greeted me warmly. I remember when I used to struggle to break 95 here five years ago.

The tournament format was not individual stroke play, but instead a more fun, less pressure packed mix between a four ball for nine holes and a nine hole scramble. But still, I got excited for the test. Let’s see how far I’ve come.

My boss/mentor and I play these two person events now, he a lifelong excellent golfer and me, a four year and eleven months work in process. He’s watched my progress, helped me with my game, and been very patient with me. This is a game where you can’t skip steps. You can’t suck and then all of a sudden be good. That’s why it’s a great game.

—

My heart still races leading up to my opening tee shot, but I’ve found a way to handle it. I keep myself busy and occupied until it is go time, and then I walk up to the tee box, tee it up, then calmly knock the shit out of the ball. Monday, my first shot couldn’t have been hit any more perfectly: 285 yards and right down the middle. I could exhale.

It took me pieces of two holes to settle in and feel comfortable, but I did, then it was off to the races. For holes 1-9, I shot 38 on my own ball, a couple of missed short putts being my only blemishes. For holes 10-18, we scrambled, but as reasonably as I can estimate, I shot 37 on my own ball. A season opening unofficial 75 (ish) on my own ball and an official two man team score of 68 started my playing year off with a fulfilling smile.

—

I hadn’t done anything spectacular all day. Good, yes. Really good, at times. Great, no. We were on our next to last hole, a par 3, and I had hit my tee ball to about 35 feet. I had an impossible putt, but hey, I practice impossible putts all the time. I looked it over, visualized it, hit it, and bam! We all yelled! Boom! One finally dropped.

I finished with a tap in par and exhaled. Did I really finally play an entire 18 hole tournament round from start to finish at a level that I deemed acceptable? First drive was great. Last three holes were great. Everything in between was more than satisfactory.

Did we really just finish smack in the middle of the pack (with me pulling my weight) in a PGA Professional Section event four years and eleven months after my being terrified of hitting the cars in the parking lot, had there been any on that Sunday morning?

—

If you want to know what the journey really looks like, take this into consideration. I had a great day Monday. I was happy Monday. I was happy about Monday. I am still happy about Monday.

But I woke up Tuesday, and I literally couldn’t move. I fight my body every day.

And thus the improbable journey continues…

—

Have a great week.-Benj

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For almost a decade, maybe more, I avoided retail stores like Wal-Mart and Target like the plague. Not my thing. But in the past two months, I’ve probably been close to thirty times. Why, you ask?

Sports cards. The latest addition to my sports x fun x investing portfolio. I traded sports cards as a child, but didn’t think a lick about them for nearly 25 years.

Then LA happened. And everything changed.

—

When my son and I went to Los Angeles about five months ago, I did not purposefully pick a hotel that was directly across the street from a Pokémon/sports card trading store. It just happened. At the time, I hadn’t messed around with a sports trading card in decades. But as y’all know, I love sports, I love sports adjacent activities, and I love my son. So when he suggested that we walk across the street and check LA Sports Cards out, I didn’t hesitate.

I felt right at home in the store, and the gentlemen that worked there gave us a more than warm welcome. However, when it came to modern sports cards, I did not know anything. I didn’t know what was going on in the industry, what was valuable, and what was not. What I did know was I love investing, I love limited edition things, and I love art. Oh, and I love sports.

So I bought a few individual cards, namely Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant, but I also bought a few random packs. I had no idea what might be in them, but there is nothing like the thrill of the chase.

I vividly remember opening the packs in our hotel room across the street and pulling a Shohei Ohtani card, who we were scheduled to see play in person later on our trip (We didn’t. He got hurt.). But I also pulled some cards that I had no idea what was in my hand. I kind of just laid them down and gave them to my son, quietly unaware if they were good, bad, or totally irrelevant.

Then I got to work.

—

I told my son that we had to learn what the hell we were doing. The process was already fun, but it would be even more fun if we knew what we were doing. We took to Instagram and YouTube, but interestingly learned the most from a Prime Video documentary about the modern card trading game.

You have cool players, cool cards, rare cards, rookie cards, stamped cards, and autographed cards. Then you have cool players on cool rare rookie stamped autographed cards. And that’s what you want.

—

My son pulled a coveted Victor Wembanyama rookie card from the Wal-Mart in Ocean Springs. I pulled a Juan Soto autograph from a WalGreen’s in Gautier. I pulled a CJ Stroud rookie Prizm from Target in D’Iberville. My office is officially overflowing with some really good stuff pulled from the most mundane places, mundane places that I now frequent like the local pub.

My son and I have a standing deal. If I pull a player from his beloved Boston Celtics, I have to trade it to him. If he pulls a player from my New Orleans Pelicans, he has to trade it to me. We negotiate and trade all the time. One time I tried to make a trade that he didn’t like, and he told me to screw off. I was very proud of him. One time I offered him a fair amount of cash for that Wemby rookie, and he made the deal. I only wish he had had some of these cool Celtics players’ cards when he met part of the team last year in Houston.

Fresh, live autos. That would have been a vibe.

—

After I learned everything that I learned, we started going through some of the cards that I pulled in Los Angeles and just lazily gave to my son. Turns out that I am a dope, and there were some real gems in there that I had to trade to get back my own cards.

Since LA, we’ve visited a card shop in New York City (Bleecker Trading) and found a local card shop (Gulf Coast Sports). All three places have been absolutely awesome, and I’m sure the card shop category will be added to all future trips.

But in the strangest of strange twists on this wonderfully wacky journey, I now like going to Wal-Mart and Target. Who would have ever thought that the thrill of the chase would take me THERE?

—

Have a great week.-Benj

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“The secret of change is to focus all of your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new. ” -Socrates

For the past nearly seven years, we’ve discussed all kinds of change. External change. Internal change. Geographical change. Career change. On and on and on.

But sports team allegiance change? I would have never seen that coming, although I have felt it for the better part of a year.

—

During my childhood in Wingate, North Carolina, I was not a huge NBA fan, but the Charlotte Hornets were HOTTTT. Beloved players that resonated within the community, an arena that was always full, and still likely the best uniforms in NBA history. I was a fan, but not a super fan.

Fast forward to my mid twenties when I had earned a little cash, and my super fandem slowly began. Season tickets. 41 nights per year. One year I lived an hour away. I went to every game. One year I lived twenty five minutes away. I went to every game. One year there were so many games that conflicted with my MBA classes. I WENT TO EVERY GAME. I absolutely loved it, and I have some unforgettable memories. I have nights out with the boys memories, date night memories, and family memories. I have Kobe’s in town memories and worst team in NBA history memories. Towards the end of my time in Charlotte, I have some brief father son memories.

The Hornets came and went. (Interestingly, when the Hornets left, they went to New Orleans.) The Bobcats came and went. The Hornets came again. Then I came and went, ultimately landing a quick drive down I-10 from, you guessed it, New Orleans. When I arrived, the New Orleans (now) Pelicans were NOT HOTTT. Not at all. But my NBA fandem and abk thought process required that I explore.

I wonder if this might be something?

—

The 2024 version of the New Orleans Pelicans has my heart. Top to bottom when healthy, I have told anyone that will listen that they have the best team in the NBA. Currently, they are 5th in the tough NBA West and have beat the crap out of a lot of good teams multiple times this season. So far, I’ve been to six games in person and have watched the rest on Bally Sports, an app I bought for one and only one purpose. I anticipate going to another five or six before season’s end.

I’ve seen Paolo Banchero and the Magic, Steph Curry and the Warriors, Luka Doncic and the Mavs, De’aaron Fox and the Kings, and Lebron and the Lakers. However, the game circled on the calendar each year is when the Hornets come to town. After reading the first part of this piece, the reasons should be obvious, but it’s also the one game of the year that I splurge. Courtside or bust.

—

If I had all the money in the world, outside of getting a massage every day on my ever aching body, I would purchase courtside NBA season tickets. As of one week ago, I had never sat courtside, which are typically the first two or three rows of every NBA game where the comfortable folding chairs are actually on the edge of the court.

Two years ago in New Orleans when the Pelicans played the Hornets, my son and I sat semi-courtside on row 3. Great seats, but not the real thing. Last year in New Orleans when the Pelicans played the Nuggets, my son and I sat in row 3 in a different area, great seats but still not courtside. This year, I was going to make it happen.

Courtside seats range anywhere from $500 to thousands of dollars per seat (a price I’m not willing to pay on a random Wednesday night) depending on certain factors. Are we at Madison Square Garden or Smoothie King Center? Are we playing the Lakers or the Hornets? Is it New Year’s Eve or a random Wednesday? And has been my experience with New Orleans, what is the weather like outside? This year it was freezing, and real Southerners don’t like to venture out into the cold. This might provide a huge opportunity.

—

I heavily debated what I was going to wear. Would it be my beloved Charlotte Hornets gear, knowing that the gear was fresh but that deep down I wasn’t that big of a fan anymore? Or would I rock my Pelies gear, my new local 1A that totally has my heart?

I made the wrong decision, and the price I had to pay for that was explaining to all the people sitting around us why I was clad in Hornets gear but visibly cheering for the Pelicans. On one side, it’s a raw, honest, and great story. On the other side, I felt like a dope. But on the OTHER side, I now know where my allegiances lie and what I really feel.

—

Strangely, I still have feelings for my Panthers and absolutely none for the Saints. But if Carolina doesn’t get their act together, who knows. But for the next few months, I’ve got Zion, BI, CJ, Jonas, and Herb. I’ve got Hawk, Dyson, Trey, Larry, and Naji. I’ve got Jose, Matty, Cody, and even Jeremiah, EJ, and Seabron.

I know they are young. I know they aren’t battle tested. But they are deep, they are fun, and damn near the entire team has high fived or fist bumped my eight year old son with smiles on their faces.

Oh, and at least for one night, I literally had a front row seat to it all.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

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“I don’t want to be lonely, but I certainly don’t mind being alone. That’s where all the real work (and lots of fun) has gotten accomplished.”-abk

When the schedule came out, it sounded too good to be true. Lebron and the Lakers at the Pelicans. New Year’s Eve in New Orleans. Mannie Fresh and Juvenile, the rappers of some of my favorite high school anthems, performing at halftime. Texas and Washington in the Sugar Bowl the next day.

Too good to be true.

—

It was a shot in the dark, I confess, but if anyone could pull it off, he and I could. His birthday was New Year’s Eve. We had concocted (and pulled off) a never ending New York City trip decades ago. We had witnessed in person one of Kobe Bryant’s most epic performances. And we had listened to Mannie Fresh and Juvenile songs over and over in one of his Cadillacs in high school and college. Two problems: he lived 625 miles away, and I only gave him 48 hours and 20 minutes notice. Regardless, I sent a text.

No can do, but it was a valiant effort.

My normal game partner, my son, was banned from New Year’s Eve in New Orleans. Too wild.

Christy? Nope. Skip? Nope. J Dubs? Nope.

It became increasingly apparent that lots of friendly acquaintances wanted to go, but were never going to pull the trigger or be allowed to go.

So I mulled over my options, then set out on a New Year’s Eve for the ages, one that I barely remember but will never forget.

—

“If there is an intersection of sports, travel, music, and good food, if I can make it happen, I will.”- abk

I woke up at 4:30am, ready to host a sold out New Year’s Eve crowd at the golf course. It was freezing, literally, which does not bode well for a sold out crowd at a golf course. The first group typically goes out at 7am sharp, but on this morning due to frost, the first group went out at 8:35am. Nothing like a sold out crowd and we start out an hour and a half behind, but as you should now know, most problems aren’t really problems. My staff and I worked diligently for the next few hours to rearrange the day and ensure that everyone got to play and that everyone had a great time. We were successful, everyone enjoyed a beautiful day once it warmed up, and by 3pm, I was whipped, but my day was just beginning.

I took a deep breath, then drove to the casino. There were plenty of NBA games on the docket, and I had my picks. I took another deep breath, then started my drive to New Orleans, still unsure if Lebron was playing and still without a ticket in hand. All of the media was saying that Lebron was sitting out, but I couldn’t imagine him sitting out on New Year’s Eve in New Orleans. A showman is not going to avoid the show. At about 5pm, after I had already been up for nearly thirteen hours and a mere one hour before tipoff, I snagged one ticket in the lower bowl. A showman is not going to miss the show. Zion. Lebron. BI. AD. Mannie Fresh. Juvenile. This place was going to be rocking.

I arrived to The Blender, bought a local beer, nestled into my seat amongst the sold out, ready to party crowd, and settled in. I wished my son had been there, but the energy was palpable, and I immediately felt at one with the 18,433 others in attendance.

My Pelies won by twenty. Lebron still looked like Lebron, scoring 34. Mannie Fresh and Juvenile took me back twenty five years. When I say the place was rocking, THE PLACE WAS F**KING ROCKING. I had an amazing time.

As most people were spilling out in the streets after the game ready to continue the party, my day, already sixteen hours old, was just beginning. Next up? A two hour drive that resulted from the power of persuasion.

—

At 10:50pm CST, I pulled into the family farm, ten minutes to spare until the ball dropped in Times Square. Eighteen hours and twenty minutes earlier, my very full day had begun. I had hosted a successful day at the golf course, traversed two states, watched an electric ballgame, made a couple of dollars (shout out OKC Thunder), and now was reminiscing with loved ones about a wild day and full 2023. Somehow, I made it to 12:07am local time before I crashed. Nineteen hours and 37 minutes. Too busy to remember. Too memorable to forget.

When I woke up at 4:30am almost twenty hours prior, I had no intention of spending that night in any other bed but my own. But life is meant to be lived. So I spent the entirety of New Year’s Day in the same clothes as I wore the entirety of New Year’s Eve. It’s a good thing that most problems really aren’t problems.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

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Follow along on Instagram @anythingbutkhakis, @abkgolf, and @anythingbutkhakisphotography.

If you enjoy these and would like to get the weekly piece via email, please follow on the website http://www.anythingbutkhakis.com.