Jackie Jensen, "The Golden Boy", was a superstar athlete in the 1940s who seemed destined for greatness as the heir to Joe DiMaggio... only to be supplanted by a different golden boy, the great Mickey Mantle.
Jensen would eventually live up to the hype, but with the Red Sox -- but his career prematurely because, as baseball expanded to the west coast, his fear of flying made road games unbearable!
The Yankees between 1947 and 1964 were utterly dominant, winning 15 pennants and 10 World Series. And it wasn't just the major league team that was successful. The Yankees of this era were loaded up and down the system, from Rookie ball to their two Triple-A teams!
With such a loaded major league roster, the Yankees had many talented players stuck either on the end of the bench or in the minors who would eventually find an opportunity with other teams, including Bob Cerv, Vic Power, Gus Triandos, Lew Burdette, Jerry Lumpe, Bob Porterfield, and Bob Keegan, who would all be All-Stars with other teams. Clint Courtney would be the 1952 A.L. Rookie of the Year runner-up after the Yankees traded him to the Browns, and Bill Virdon was the 1955 N.L. Rookie of the Year with the Cardinals (and then Yankee manager from 1974 to 1975!).
But the most talented player who just couldn't find the playing time in New York was Jack Eugene Jensen, born March 9, 1927, in San Francisco. His parents divorced when he was 5, and he grew up poor, his mother working six days a week, 12 hours a day. Jensen said the family moved 16 times between kindergarten and eighth grade -- "every time the rent came due."
After serving in the U.S. Navy during World War II, Jensen went to the University of California in 1946 on the G.I. Bill. There he became one of the most famous college players in the country, leading Cal to the Rose Bowl. In 1947, he was the starting fullback as well as the team's top defensive back, and in 1948, he rushed for 1,000 yards and was an All-American.
He also was a tremendous two-way baseball player, pitching and hitting for the Golden Bears in 1947 as the won the very first College World Series, beating a Yale team that had George H.W. Bush playing first base. In 1949, he was an All-American in baseball, too.
His blond hair, good looks, and athletic accomplishments earned him the nickname "The Golden Boy."
Halfway through his junior year, Jensen left Berkeley to turn pro. Jensen would later say he couldn't risk playing a career-ending injury playing for free while teams -- baseball and football -- were trying to sign him to big-money contracts.

"There was a money tree growing in my backyard. Why shouldn't I pluck off the dollars when I wanted to?"

Jensen considered a number of offers, including from the Yankees, before signing a three-year, $75,000 contract with the Oakland Oaks of the Pacific Coast League. Jensen said he thought he'd face better competition in the Pacific Coast League, the top minor league of the era, than he would at the bottom of the Yankee farm system. He was right about it being more of a challenge -- he hit an unimpressive .261/.317/.394 in 510 plate appearances with the Oaks.
At the end of the year, the Oaks sold his contract (and that of Billy Martin, another Northern California kid) to the Yankees.
That same year, Jensen married his high school sweetheart, Zoe Ann Olsen, an Olympic diver. (By age 18, she had won 14 national diving championships and a silver medal in the 1948 Olympics.) "Together they looked like a Nordic god and goddess," Sports Illustrated reported. Nicknamed "the sweethearts of sports," they were the Dansby Swanson and Mallory Pugh of their era. More than 1,000 people attended their wedding.
Jensen would start the 1950 season not in the minors but in the Bronx. He joined the Yankees in a time of flux. They though they'd won the 1949 World Series, the Yankees knew they had to make some changes, with 35-year-old Joe DiMaggio nearing the end of his career. And their heir apparent was not Mickey Mantle -- at the time an 18-year-old shortstop playing in the Class C league, the equivalent of A-ball today -- but the 23-year-old Jensen.
But Jensen disappointed, hitting just .171/.247/.300 in 70 at-bats, and only starting in 13 games. Watching from the bench most of the season, Jensen would later lament the lost year of development, saying he'd have been better off playing every day in the Pacific Coast League.
The Yankees won the pennant for a second straight year, and in the World Series he once again was left on the bench. His only action was as a pinch runner in Game 3 as the Yankees swept the Phillies. That "Moonlight Graham" appearance would be his only taste of the post-season in an 11-year career.
The following year would be DiMaggio's last, and Mantle's first. Jensen began the year as the Yankees' starting left fielder and proved he belonged, hitting .296/.371/.509 through the end of July... and then, shockingly, was demoted to Triple-A and replaced with previously forgotten Yankee Bob Cerv.
I can see why they called up Cerv -- the University of Nebraska stand-out was tearing up Triple-A, leading the American Association in batting average (.349), home runs (26), triples (21), RBIs (101), and total bases (261) -- but why demote Jensen, who had a 140 OPS+ in the majors? Maybe the Yankees felt the brash 23-year-old needed to be taken down a peg. In any event, Cerv hit just .214/.333/.250 in August and was sent back to Triple-A, but Jensen also was left down there. He hit .263/.344/.469 and was recalled after the Triple-A season ended, only getting into three games (he went 3-for-9).
Mantle, too, had started the season with the Yankees, and after hitting .260/.341/.423 through the middle of July, was sent down to Triple-A. But he hit .361/.445/.651 in 166 at-bats, and unlike Jensen was back in the bigs by August 24. He would play pretty much every game the rest of the season, hitting .284/.370/.495 in 95 at-bats.
The torch had clearly been passed -- Jensen was no longer the heir apparent to DiMaggio. In the World Series that year, Mantle was the starting right fielder, and Jensen wasn't even on the post-season roster.
Jensen was so disappointed with how the Yankees had treated him in 1951 that he talked to the San Francisco 49ers about switching to pro football, but ultimately decided to stick with baseball.
Never shy about what he said to reporters, Jensen told The Sporting News on October 24, 1951:

"I felt so badly about the treatment that I received from the Yankees that, although I was in New York at the end of the season, I didn't feel like sticking around to even watch the club play in any of the World's Series games."
"I do not feel the Yankees were justified in sending me to the minor leagues. When I was shipped to Kansas City, I was doing as good a job as any Yankee outfielder and better than some of them. I was hitting .296, which was ten points better than Hank Bauer and 30 points better than Joe DiMaggio, Gene Woodling and Mickey Mantle. Yet Casey Stengel didn't give me the chance I felt I deserved."

Despite blasting his manager in the press, Jensen was still the property of the Yankees. That off-season, teams were circling, hoping to pry away the talented but disgruntled outfielder. There were newspaper reports of offers from the St. Louis Browns, the Detroit Tigers, the Philadelphia Athletics, the Washington Senators, the Cleveland Indians, and the Boston Red Sox -- with one rumor being Ted Williams to the Bronx in exchange for Jensen and several other players. (A Red Sox scout called the rumored deal "a lot of hogwash.")
Sportswriters spent the off-season speculating whether DiMaggio would retire, and if he did, whether Jensen or Mantle would take over as the center fielder, as there were still concerns that Mantle, who had hurt his knee in the 1951 World Series, wouldn't be fully recovered by the start of the season.
On Opening Day, April 16, 1952, it was Jackie Jensen in center and Mickey Mantle in right. Jensen went 0-for-5 with a GIDP; Mantle, 3-for-4 with a double, a walk, and a stolen base! Seven games into the season, Jensen was 2-for-17 (.118) and found himself on the bench. He'd never play for the Yankees again. On May 3, the Golden Boy was traded to the Washington Senators along with Spec Shea, Jerry Snyder, and Archie Wilson in exchange for Irv Noren and Tom Upton.
In two years with the Senators, Jensen hit an impressive .276/.359/.407 (112 OPS+), but the team was terrible, and Jensen wasn't happy. Still just 26 years old, he later said he had almost quit after the 1953 season... particularly after a harrowing flight to Japan for a series of exhibition games with a squad of All-Stars that included Yankees Yogi Berra, Eddie Lopat, and Billy Martin. That experience gave Jensen a lifelong fear of flying, a phobia that became so intense eventually he could only fly with the help of sleeping pills... and a hypnotist!
He might have quit if not for the trade on December 9, 1953, that sent him to the Boston Red Sox for pitcher Mickey McDermott and outfielder Tom Umphlett. He was homesick, he hated flying, and he now had two little kids at home. Red Sox general manager Joe Cronin convinced Jensen to come to the Red Sox, telling him that Fenway Park was tailor made for his swing. Cronin was right: Jensen was a career .279/.369/.460 hitter, but .298/.400/.514 at Fenway.
It was in Boston that Jensen finally lived up to the hype, becoming a two-time All-Star and winning the A.L. MVP Award in 1958 and a Gold Glove in 1959. During his seven seasons in Boston, he hit .282/.374/.478 in 4,519 plate appearances. In his MVP season, Jensen hit .286/.396/.535 (148 OPS+) with 31 doubles, 35 home runs, and a league-leading 122 RBIs. During his peak with the Red Sox, 1954 to 1959, Jensen's average season was .285/.378/.490 (127 OPS+) with 28 doubles, 26 home runs, 111 RBIs, 14 stolen bases, and 3.6 bWAR. During those six seasons, no one in the American League -- not Mickey Mantle, not Ted Williams, not Al Kaline -- had more runs batted in than Jackie Jensen.
Of course, Mantle was the far better player -- even in Jensen's MVP season, Mantle had more runs, hits, home runs, walks, and a 188 OPS+ -- but Jensen's 127 OPS+ between 1954 and 1959 would have been an upgrade over the aging Hank Bauer's 110 OPS+ in right or the left field merry-go-round of Norm Siebern (113 OPS+), Irv Noren (107 OPS+), Enos Slaughter (103 OPS+), and previously forgotten Yankee Hector Lopez (101 OPS+). Casey Stengel would later say the Jensen trade was the worst one the Yankees had made while he was manager.
Despite his success, Jensen was sometimes booed by the Boston fans, just as they sometimes booed Ted Williams. There even was an article in Sport magazine, "What Do They Want From Jackie Jensen?", taking Red Sox fans to task for their unreasonably high demands from the Golden Boy. In 1956, in a game at Fenway Park against the Yankees, the hometown fans were razzing Jensen so much that teammates had to restrain him from going into the stands after a fan. Later that same game, Williams misplayed a wind-blown fly ball from Mantle, and the fans booed lustily. The very next play, Williams made a leaping catch at the scoreboard to rob Yogi Berra of a double. But Williams, still furious, spit into the crowd. He was later fined $5,000.
And Jackie was unhappy to be away from home. He and Zoe Ann had bought a house near Lake Tahoe, where they could both ski and golf year-round, as well as hit the casinos. They also had a home in Oakland, and a restaurant there, and each year Jensen hosted a pro-am golf tournament. But the marriage was struggling. Zoe Ann, once nationally known for her Olympic exploits, was frustrated to be a stay-at-home mom in the shadow of her famous husband, and Jackie became angry if she engaged in her favorite outdoor hobbies, suspecting there were men around.
Jensen's fear of flying also had become even more intense. Sometimes he was so drugged up that he had to be carried on and off the plane, fueling rumors that he was a drunk. Other times he took trains or even drove while his teammates flew.
Once again Jensen was talking about retirement, and in Spring Training 1957, the Red Sox allowed him to train with the San Francisco Seals, Boston's Triple-A team, rather than having to go to Florida. But he was still miserable. That year, he told Sports Illustrated:

“In baseball you get to the point where you don’t think you have a family. It just looks like I’m not built for this life like some ballplayers. You are always away from home and you’re lonesome, and as soon as I can, I intend to get out.”

The 32-year-old Jensen announced his retirement after the 1959 season, and he spent 1960 home with Zoe Ann and their children and running his restaurant. But he returned in 1961. After hitting just .130 in April, Jensen took a train from Detroit home to Reno, determined to quit once again. After a week away, he rejoined the team and had six hits in his next 10 at-bats. By the end of the season he was at .263/.350/.392, and this time he quit for good.
After leaving baseball, Jensen invested in real estate and a golf course, but lost most of his money. He then got a job working for a Lake Tahoe casino, was a national spokesman for Camel cigarettes, Wonder Bread, and Gillette, and even tried selling cars. Ironically, Jackie found himself on the road almost as much as he had been as a ballplayer. In 1963, he and Zoe Ann divorced, remarried, and then divorced again.
In 1967, Jensen became a TV sportscaster, married his producer Katharine Cortesi, and eventually teamed up with Keith Jackson calling college football games for ABC and a college baseball coach, first at the University of Nevada-Reno and then at the University of California, and he managed the Red Sox team in the New York Penn League in 1970. In 1977, Jackie and Katharine moved to Virginia and started a Christmas tree farm while he coached baseball at a military academy. About five years later, on July 14, 1982, he died of a heart attack at age 55.
You Don't Know Jack(ie):

• How good would Jackie Jensen have been as a Yankee? Maybe not great. He was a career .279/.369/.460 hitter, but just .238/.326/.398 at Yankee Stadium, which -- especially in that era -- was famously death on right-handed batters. Fenway Park was much more to his liking!
  
• Born in San Francisco in 1927, it's no surprise Jensen's favorite player as a kid was Joe DiMaggio, who made his debut with the San Francisco Seals when Jensen was a 5 years old. When Jensen made his major league debut, on April 18, 1950, DiMaggio went 3-for-6 with a triple in a 15-10 win over the Red Sox. Two weeks later, on May 3, Jensen made his first start, playing left field and batting second, and DiMaggio was in center and batting fourth.
  
• Jensen wore #36 at Cal. When he came up with the Yankees, he was first issued #40, then switched to #27, and finally to #25. (With the Senators, he wore #8, then #4; in Boston, he first wore #30 but primarily wore #4.) Currently, #40 is worn by Luis Severino. Other famous 40's include Chien-Ming Wang (2005-2009), Andy Hawkins (1989-1991), and Lindy McDaniel (1968-1973). #27 has been worn by Giancarlo Stanton since 2018; prior to him, it was worn by Austin Romine (2016-2017). It also was the number worn by Bob Wickman (1993-1996), Butch Wynegar (1982-1986), and Woodie Held (1954-1957). Gleyber Torres has worn #25 since 2018; it also was worn by Mark Teixeira (2009-2016), Jason Giambi (2002-2008), Joe Girardi (1996-1999), Jim Abbott (1993-1994), Tommy John (1979-1989), and Joe Pepitone (1962-1969).
  
• Jensen is one of six major leaguers to graduate from Oakland High School, but the only Yankee. Cal has sent 83 players to the majors, including twenty Yankees -- most notably, early 1990s pitcher Chuck Cary, 1930s infielder Lyn Lary, and 1990 A.L. ROY runner-up Kevin Maas.
  
• The Yankees during spring training in 1951 tinkered with the idea of using Jensen into a pitcher. Jensen had been a star pitcher at Cal, including pitching in the 1947 College World Series, and had pitched in a winter league that off-season. But he was bombed in a handful of spring training innings -- while crushing as a hitter -- and the Yankees decided to leave him in the outfield.
  
• College teammates said Jensen wasn't afraid of flying at Cal. His second wife Katharine said the phobia came from a near-miss experience on a flight early in his baseball career -- he looked out the window and saw another plane coming straight at him! The two planes managed to avoid each other, but he was never comfortable on a plane again.
  
• Billy Martin, who also had grown up in Northern California and was Jensen's teammate on both the Oakland Oaks and the Yankees, was merciless when it came to teasing Jensen about his fear of flying. In 1953, on a flight from Okinawa to Honshu to play a series of exhibition games in Japan, the plane ran into a bad storm and was bouncing pretty hard. Jensen, who wouldn't get on a plane without the help of tranquilizers, was blissfully sleeping through the turbulence. Martin found a lifejacket and put it on, then stood over Jensen and shouted "We're going down!"
  
• Arthur Ellen, a hypnotist that Jensen had used to try to cure his fear of flying, believed Jackie wasn't aerophobic at all. It was really a fear of losing his family. "Subconsciously, it developed as a good reason to leave the Red Sox and go home," the hypnotist said.
  
• Jensen is featured prominently in Norman Rockwell's famous 1957 painting, The Rookie. Jensen is the one seated on the bench tying his shoe in the middle of the painting. Standing behind him is Ted Williams, and sitting on the bench next to him is pitcher Frank Sullivan (#18). Wearing the catcher's mitt in the foreground is Sammy White, and the player with his hand over his mouth to the far right is Billy Goodman. Jensen, Sullivan, and White had gone to Rockwell's studio in Massachusetts to pose for the painting; the images of Williams and Goodman were based on photos. The shirtless player was one of Rockwell's assistants, and "the rookie" holding the suitcase was a local high school student!
  
• Boston sportswriters named Jensen the team's MVP in 1954, when he hit .276/.359/.472 with 25 home runs and 117 RBIs. I guess they were tired of giving the award to Ted Williams, who hit .345/.513/.635 that year, albeit in just 117 games as he had broken his collarbone in spring training. Williams didn't qualify for the batting title that year because he had only 386 at-bats... mostly due to his league-leading 136 walks. The rule was subsequently changed from at-bats to plate appearances.
  
• After Jensen was acquired by the Washington Senators, manager Bucky Harris -- who managed the Yankees when they won the 1947 World Series -- pulled him aside and told him he was the right fielder and he'd hit third. "No pep talk, no nothing, but he made it sound like I was the right fielder and third place hitter for a long time to come," Jensen later recalled. "It made me feel good." The 1950s Senators had a number of ex-Yankees and several of them told reporters that Harris was a much more low-key, hands-off manager than Casey Stengel, and Jensen agreed. "With Stengel it was always 'watch for that curve ball' or 'watch for that change up'," Jensen said. "Bucky leaves you on your own up there." But Jensen would later say Stengel was the smartest manager he'd ever had.
  
• Stengel obliquely mentioned Jensen in his famously long, rambling testimony before the Senate Anti-Trust and Monopoly Subcommittee on July 8, 1958. Asked about legislation that would exempt baseball from federal anti-trust laws, Stengel said about 7,000 words without really saying anything. The hearing was held the day after the All-Star Game -- the Stengel-managed A.L. All-Stars won, 4-3 -- and in the American League starting lineup were Jensen and two other ex-Yankees, Bob Cerv and Gus Triandos. Stengel was asked if the Yankees were going to continue to "monopolize" the World Series, and his confusing answer: "Well, I will tell you. I got a little concerned yesterday in the first three innings when I saw the three players I had gotten rid of [Jensen, Cerv, and Triandos] and I said when I lost nine what am I going to do? And when I had a couple of my players I thought so great of that did not do so good up to the sixth inning I was more confused but I finally had to go and call on a young man in Baltimore that we don't own and the Yankees don't own him and he is doing pretty well and I would actually have to to tell you that we are more the Greta Garbo-type now from success. We are being hated. I mean from the ownership and all we are being hated. Every sport that gets too great or one individual -- but if we made twenty-seven cents and it pays to have a winner at home why would you have a good winner in your park if you were an owner? That is the result of baseball. An owner gets most of the money at home, and it is up to him and his staff to do better or they ought to be discharged." After befuddling the committee with answers like that for 45 minutes, Stengel was excused and Mickey Mantle called upon. His opening statement: "My views are just about the same as Casey's."
  
• Casey Stengel later said Jensen plus Spec Shea, Jerry Snyder, and Archie Wilson to the Senators for Irv Noren and Tom Upton was the worst trade the Yankees made during his tenure. But in reality it was pretty much a wash for the Yankees. Jensen, in two seasons, would be worth 4.9 bWAR for the Senators before being traded. Shea, a right-handed pitcher who had been an All-Star with the Yankees as a rookie, pitched four years in Washington and was worth 2.9 bWAR. Snyder was a good-glove, no-hit infielder worth -0.1 bWAR in seven seasons with the Senators. (You must have a really good glove to last seven seasons with a 55 OPS+!) Wilson, at one point seen as a good prospect but now a 28-year-old minor league journeyman, only played 26 games in Washington before being traded. In exchange, the Yankees received the 27-year-old Irv Noren, an outfieldefirst baseman who played five years in New York and was an All-Star in 1954; he was worth 7.9 bWAR, making the trade essentially even by bWAR. (The other player the Yankees received, minor league infielder Tom Upton, never made it back to the bigs.) Prior to the 1957 season, Noren was traded to the Kansas City Athletics as part of a monster 13-player trade that included Clete Boyer, third baseman of the early 1960s dynasty!
  
• The two players Washington got from Boston for Jensen, Mickey McDermott and Tom Upton, were both future Yankees. McDermott was a left-handed pitcher whose father, Maurice McDermott, had played in the minors with Lou Gehrig. Mickey was just 25 years old at the time of the trade but had been in the majors for six seasons, going 48-34 with a 3.80 ERA (114 ERA+). In two years with the Senators, McDermott went 17-25 (but with a 3.58 ERA), then prior to the 1957 season was traded to the Yankees as part of a seven-player deal; he went 2-6 with a 4.24 ERA as a swingman, and closed out the Game 2 win in the 1956 World Series. After that one season in New York, he was part of the trade with the A's that brought back Clete Boyer.
  
• Umphlett, a 22-year-old infielder, was traded back to the Red Sox in 1955, and then the Red Sox traded him to the Yankees in 1962 for infielder Billy Gardner. He would spend 1962 and 1963 in Triple-A for the Yankees, then ended his career in the minors with the Minnesota Twins -- the team that had been the Senators until 1961.
  
• In 1956, the anthology television show Cavalcade of America had an episode called The Jackie Jensen Story. Jackie had a cameo as the adult version of himself, but the 30-minute episode was focused on Jackie's teenage years and the influence of his middle high school coach, a man named Ralph Kerchum who became a father figure. The coach was played by Ross Elliott, a Bronx native whose most memorable role might have been as the director in the Vitameatavegamin episode of I Love Lucy.
  
• Jensen's MVP in 1958 broke a string of four straight MVP awards for Yankees -- Yogi Berra in 1954 and 1955 followed by Mickey Mantle in 1956 and 1957. Nellie Fox of the White Sox won it in 1959, and then the Yankees won it four years in a row again -- Roger Maris in 1960 and 1961, Mantle in 1962, and Elston Howard in 1963. Then a long drought -- the next Yankee to win it would be Thurman Munson in 1976.
  
• Going by bWAR, Mantle should have won it a third straight year in 1958 -- his 8.7 bWAR led the league, followed by Frank Lary at 6.7 and Al Kaline at 6.5. Jensen's 4.9 was 10th that year. Of course, they didn't have bWAR back then!
  
• Jackie won a Gold Glove in 1959; it was just the third year of the award's existence, or he might have won more. "Right field in Boston is a bitch, the sun field, and few play it well," Ted Williams said. "Jackie Jensen was the best I saw at it." Jensen was renowned for his throwing arm -- he twice led the league in assists, and twice led the league in double plays as an outfielder. One Yankee scout said he had the best arm he'd seen since previously forgotten Yankee Bob Meusel, usually said to have the best cannon in baseball history until Roberto Clemente came along.
  
• Jensen was well known for his brashness, especially compared to Mantle's aw shucks attitude. Mantle, asked if he thought he could beat out Jensen to replace DiMaggio in center field, humbly replied that there were three positions in the outfield and he hoped to win any one of them. Jensen, on the other hand, vowed he'd "out-run, out-hit, and out-throw" Mantle, an arrogant answer that didn't go over well with teammates. Joe DiMaggio, asked what he thought of the duel for his old job, quipped that Mantle was "out-quoting" Jensen.
  
• When Mantle was asked what he thought about Jensen's quote, he replied: "I don't know what to make of that guy." Jensen would later say he was misquoted, but reports of his cockiness would follow him throughout his Yankee years. Later in life, Jensen said people mistook his shyness and anxiety for arrogance and rudeness.
  
• According to Sports Illustrated, Jensen is the only player to have played in the East-West football game, the Rose Bowl, the World Series, and the Major League All-Star Game. I'll take their word for it!
  
• As a freshman at Cal, the first time Jensen touched the ball -- on a punt return -- he ran it back for a 56-yard touchdown. Cal quarterback Charles Erb said they'd never seen anything like it. "He was all over the field, dodging and leaping over guys. The rest of us just stood there on the sidelines with our mouths open. Finally somebody said, 'Who in the hell is that guy?' "
  
• Jensen is one of two "forgotten" Yankees in the College Football Hall of Fame -- the other is 1960s catcher Jake Gibbs. (Other Yankees in the College Football Hall of Fame include John Elway, who was in the Yankee minor league system before joining the Denver Broncos, and Deion Sanders, who was on the Yankees in 1989 and 1990.) Jensen also is a member of the Cal Hall of Fame, the Bay Area Sports Hall of Fame, and... ugh... the Boston Red Sox Hall of Fame.
  
• Despite his speed -- Jensen led the league in triples in 1956 and in stolen bases in 1954, and was in the top five in stolen bases in six seasons -- Jackie also was prone to grounding into double plays, leading the league in 1954, 1956, and 1957. His 32 GIDPs in 1954 was the major league record until Boston's Jim Rice hit into 36 in 1984, which is still the single-season record. Rice also had 35 in 1985. Jensen's 32 is tied for third with four others. The most by a Yankee? Dave Winfield with 30 in 1983, which is tied for 14th.
  
• Jensen lost most of his baseball earnings through a series of bad investments. His ex-wife, former Olympian Zoe Ann, later became a blackjack dealer in Reno to pay the bills.
  
• Jensen had four appearances on the popular show Home Run Derby, and set a record for most home runs in one match when he defeated Ernie Banks, 14-11, in Episode 24. The 25 combined home runs also was a record. He took on Mickey Mantle in Episode 3, with Mantle winning, 9-2, then defeated Rocky Colavito, 3-2, in Episode 25. He rematched against Mantle in Episode 26, with Mantle winning again, 13-10. Jensen set another record in that contest when he became the only player to hit four home runs in a row, and then a fifth home run in a row. That episode was supposed to be the season one finale, but it turned out to be the last episode of the series: The show's host and producer, Mark Scott, died of a heart attack at age 45, shortly after the last episode aired, and two months later the show's 64-year-old director Benjamin Stoloff also died. Rather than replacing them, the show was cancelled.
  
• Jensen's last game came against the Yankees, on October 1st, 1961, at Yankee Stadium. He appeared as a pinch hitter and popped out to shortstop Tony Kubek. In the 4th inning of that game, Roger Maris hit his 61st home run, breaking Babe Ruth's single-season record!
  
• Jackie and Zoe Ann had two sons, Jon and Jay, and a daughter, Jan. Jay's son, Tucker Jensen, was a pitcher in the Blue Jays farm system in 2011 and 2012.
  

In 1958, Jensen told Sports Illustrated that the biggest thrill of his career wasn't being an All-American or an All-Star, it wasn't winning an MVP or a World Series. "The biggest is having played in the same outfield with both DiMaggio and Williams."

I've had problems with alcohol since the day I turned 21, but I'm the kind of drunk where people have never really been able to tell. I could be shitfaced and not seem that different to anyone around me. So, it's never caused me any issues. But I've noticed that's not so much the case as I've gotten older. It does effect me differently now. I've slowly noticed myself acting more erratic and my motor functions more off.
Anyway, I was staying just a couple neighborhoods from some bars I was haunting, getting some extra strong drinks. Like an idiot, I drove home, when I could've walked. While attempting to park, I crunched into a very expensive vehicle, leaving a pretty significant dent. Panicked, I parked a couple blocks away, hoping to "hide" my vehicle.
Woke up at first light and headed to my car to get the paint smears washed off my bumper. My vehicle wasn't damaged at all. And... A note tucked under the wipers. My heart sank and jumped at the same time. "I'm busted. I deserve this," I thought to myself. Opened it, and it was just someone asking me not to park there again, for the school the bus. A sickening feeling of relief that somehow made the perspective even heavier.
When I got back from washing off the evidence, the car's owner was just discovering what happened, bending over, examining the damage with that, "WTF?" look on their face. I felt soooo bad. I died inside. Straight up walking inside crying, gagging, everything else.
That was my last drink. Stone cold sober since that incident. I reflected on how fucking lucky I've been my entire life that THAT'S the thing that did it. It could have been a DUI, a serious crash, killing someone, prison time. I'm sure there were infinite close calls that I blew off over the years. I don't plan to ever drink again. This incident, although small on the grand scheme of life, was the wakeup call I needed.
Fact is, being an alcoholic is a time bomb. Something really bad WILL happen at some point if you don't reel it in. It's unavoidable on a continued timeline.

Our sleeper train ride is scheduled at 6PM. Prior to that, we will be at the Platinum Mall for some shopping and we are planning to leave the mall at around 3PM to get to the station. What’s the best ride to ensure that we will be there on time? My first option is to walk from Platinum Mall to Ratchathewi BTS-Mo Chit-Chatuchak Park MRT-Bang Sue. I think it’s a bit hassle and tiring, so I was thinking of taking GRAB CAR instead but I’m afraid that we might be stuck in traffic. I checked google maps and with the traffic time calculated, it will take us around 30 minutes to get there. Not sure if this is legit, so I need insights to those who already experienced our journey. :)
In addition, it is our first time riding a sleeper train, so how does it work in a train station? Do we just check-in, go to the assigned platform and wait? Any tips and guidelines would be highly appreciated!

Ok so a couple of days ago a raccoon got hit in the front of my neighborhood…I couldn’t find an active wound on him but there was blood in the road, blood coming from his nose (in the beginning). There was a garbage bag nearby that I ripped in half and used to pick him up and move him to the side of the road over in the grass…he seemed like he was in shock, he was very disoriented and just “turning circles” like his equilibrium was all messed up and very confused. He seemed near death and that really got to me in this moment. So, like a good idiot I went down there with a wagon and loaded him up and brought him back to my house because “I’m gonna save this raccoons life!” 😐…I went to the vet across the street from my neighborhood…told them about the incident, they gave me a squirt syringe of nutrient solution to try and help feed him something as well as another one for water to give him..he was never aggressive and never bit or scratched me..I went to the hardware store and bought some forearm length gloves to handle him because he kept wandering out into the street and just turning circles. Very tired, kinda derpy. I just chalked all this up to the fact that he had been run over by a car. To try and condense this novel real quick…my main paranoia is coming in contact with his saliva or blood which to my knowledge NEVER touched me..this is in between washing my hands like every single time I tried to feed or water him or pick him up with the gloves on. I guess I’m mostly paranoid that I could’ve like itched my eye with a fingertip after exposure to him OR some flys buzzing him that maybe touched or landed on me or my face (I don’t think that happened, but it’s hot where I live) which would be contaminating on like a microscopic level. I was very conscious the whole time of “this animal could definitely have rabies” even though he wasn’t aggressive and never offered to bite or scratch me. Last night when I got home from work I loaded him back up in the wagon and took him out to the woods and we parted ways..am I being overly paranoid about coming in contact with this dude?

“Day by Day, Month by Month, Year by Year,” Part 1
by c.w. cobblestone
A wimp chronicles the femdom/cuck relationship between him, his beloved Molly and her lover DeShawn. Here are the first six months.

YEAR 1

January 1

Well, the calendar may have changed but nothing else has. Molly is still in love with DeShawn. They’re still openly flaunting their affair in front of friends and family. I’m still kissing up to both of them and praying they’ll continue to let me hang around. So far, so good; the wedding’s still on for June, and everyone seems to be finding their roles in this three-way relationship. Unfortunately, my role is being their bitch. But Molly’s still here — that’s the important thing. I thought for sure when DeShawn came into the picture and stole her heart that she’d run off with him. But to my great relief, she says she wants to go through with the wedding while also maintaining her relationship with DeShawn. She says we’re now a “poly triad.” I know she’s playing me for a fool and is only marrying me because I earn six figures. But I don’t care. I love her and would do anything to keep her. Anything. Full stop. The ceremony is scheduled for June 8th, and my New Year’s resolution is to not fuck it up.

January 3

Molly didn’t say when she’d be home from the New Year’s Eve party at DeShawn’s friend’s house, but I didn’t expect her to be gone this long. I’m starting to get worried. Molly’s a big girl and can take care of herself, but DeShawn runs with a rough crowd.

January 4

Crisis averted. Molly’s been holed up in DeShawn’s apartment partying, thank goodness. After she texted me and told me to bring cognac and Burger King, I’d hoped to spend at least a few seconds with my beloved fiancé for the first time this year. Alas, I never even laid eyes on her. DeShawn answered my knock, snatched the bags from my hand and slammed the door in my face after throwing out a flippant “thanks, bitch.”

January 5

Molly finally came home but she was only here long enough to change clothes and bitch at me about her car being down to a quarter tank of gas. I thought about telling her she hasn’t been home for me to gas her car up but I wisely kept my mouth shut and volunteered to fill her tank right then. She said she was in a hurry, though, and rushed back out. I’m guessing she was either headed to the club or back to DeShawn’s place, although she didn’t tell me where she was going, and I sure as hell didn’t ask. As far as she’s concerned it’s none of my business what she does — my job is to sit at home and wait for her like a good little toady, ready to kiss her little ass and put up with her shit when she gets back.

January 7

I kept dinner warm until finally putting it away at 9. Even if Molly does make it home tonight, she’ll most likely be with DeShawn, and they won’t be in the mood to eat. I can always heat up something later if they want a post-coital snack.

January 9

When I got home from work nobody was there, although two bags of DeShawn’s dirty laundry were waiting for me in the living room. Molly had me do his clothes a few weeks ago and now the arrogant bastard apparently thinks it’s my permanent job. I thought about just letting it sit there — then common sense took over. The last thing I want to do is piss him off and give him an excuse to kick my ass again. So, swallowing what little pride I had left, I washed and carefully ironed the clothes of the man who’s fucking my fiancé. How pathetic is that?

January 10

My buddy Tim called to tell me he saw Molly making out with DeShawn at the Alexis Club last night. I turned red but gave my speech about how our arrangement allows her to see other men. Tim must be the 10th person to call since Molly and DeShawn started openly dating. I wish my supposed girlfriend and her “black king” would keep their tryst on the down-low but they said they wanted to take their relationship to the next level and I don’t get a vote. With everything that goes on in the world these days, I’d hoped their affair wouldn’t be a big deal, but I’m finding that people aren’t as open-minded as they claim to be. I’m losing friends and alienating family over this “poly” situation. Tim sure sounded disgusted. I guess I can’t blame him — if I was my friend, I’d probably be just as outraged at how Molly and DeShawn treat me, and how I put up with it like a sap loser. I imagine it must be painful for my friends and family to watch, but I wish they’d try to see it from my point of view. I love Molly with all my heart. She hurts me, sure. But I’m happier than I’ve ever been since she came into my life. Why can’t people understand that? If I can accept her and the things she does to me, why can’t everyone else?

January 13

DeShawn spent the night last night. He and Molly were already hammered when they got back from the club but they wanted another round. They also wanted privacy, so after I served drinks, DeShawn handed me his key and told me to go clean his apartment. I said “yes sir” and hauled ass out of there. When DeShawn tells me to do something, I don’t fuck around. The guy dislikes me to start with, so I try not to give him any reason to fuck me up. The first time Molly brought him home, I attempted to man up and confront him. I won’t ever make that mistake again. I like having teeth too much.

January 14

For the second night in a row, DeShawn stayed over. Molly got mad because I hadn’t bought the bottle of wine she’d wanted so she slapped me across the face several times, cutting my nose with her engagement ring. I got blood all over my favorite shirt, and she yelled at me about that, too, much to her boyfriend’s amusement. Molly is getting meaner by the day and DeShawn keeps egging her on. He loves the situation he’s carved out for himself — he knows he could steal her from me any time he wants but he enjoys having me around. In addition to bankrolling the affair, I represent the spoils of his victory; I’m the defeated, shamed white boy whose nose is constantly rubbed in the dirt while he enjoys his prize, my beautiful fiancé. That’s why he’s so brazen about taking Molly to all the places frequented by my friends and family. He wants everyone to know that Molly is in love with him, and that I’m pathetically hanging around paying the bills and serving as the beta in this budding “poly triad” of ours. Around town, it’s making me either a laughingstock or an object of pity. I’m not sure which is worse.

January 17

I got into a big argument with my brother Joel today after he called to tell me he saw Molly and DeShawn at the Towne Theatre “acting like a pair of animals in heat.” He and the rest of the family have been pressuring me to leave her ever since DeShawn mopped up the floor with Joel last month. The stupid fuck tried to tell the former Carver State linebacker to stop embarrassing the family by openly carrying on with Molly. DeShawn doesn’t like being told what to do. Joel found that out the hard way. His broken nose just healed.

January 20

Nobody was at the condo when I got home from the firm, although I could tell DeShawn had been over, given the wet spots all over the crumpled bedding in the master bedroom. These days, the only reasons I go into Molly’s room are to clean, change cum-stained sheets, and wipe her boyfriend’s piss stains off the toilet rim in the master bathroom. Molly says her bedroom suite is reserved for “real men” and that I have no business being in there unless it’s to clean.

January 24

Molly dropped some devastating news today. She says DeShawn will be going on the honeymoon in June and I’ll be staying home. Also, we had planned to take a Mediterranean cruise, but since DeShawn’s great-grandmother was from St. Thomas and he’s always wanted to go down there, she told me to switch the arrangements. I was bawling like a baby but I clicked onto the travel site and made the required changes. Since the wedding isn’t for six months, there was no problem adjusting the plans, although it killed me inside to do it.

January 26

Molly told me to pack her bags because she was headed to Atlanta for a week to hang out with DeShawn’s cousins. So, now, just like that, I’m not going to see my beloved fiancé until next Sunday. I don’t think she has any idea how much she’s breaking my heart with this affair of hers, but if I told her she probably wouldn’t care — she’d probably think it was funny. That’s how cruel she’s become. DeShawn brings out the worst in her. After he told her that it turns him on when she’s mean to me, she’s been looking for reasons to dog me. He usually rewards her cruelty by fucking the taste out of her mouth — and that makes her want to treat me even worse. Molly is finding out how much naughty fun it can be to make my life miserable, knowing that I’m so hopelessly in love with her I’ll put up with anything she dishes out. Deep down, she probably knows what she’s doing to me is wrong — but I bet that just makes the whole thing even more delightfully wicked. My former angel is lost in a decadent, BBC-fueled alternative dimension where being bad is good and my pain is hilarious.

February 6

Molly told me to go by her mom’s house after work tomorrow to clean. She says I should plan on that being one of my regular weekly duties from now on. I’m getting sick of being everybody’s fucking maid. I’m stuck cleaning DeShawn’s apartment once a week now. Last week, Molly had me wash her best friend’s car after her boyfriend got drunk and puked in it. My fiancé has pimped me out to her friends recently for myriad other chores — cleaning up dogshit, dropping off library books, picking up drycleaning. Since DeShawn came into the picture, Molly has gleefully let her friends and family know that I’m nothing but her little bitch — and her boyfriend’s little bitch, too. She loves recounting the night she brought DeShawn back to the condo for the first time, and I tried to make a stand by telling him to leave. He busted me in the eye, knocking me to the floor, and then kicked me in the ribs until I begged him to stop. The whole time, Molly watched with a glazed look in her eye and fingers in her crotch. After DeShawn bitch-slapped me one last time, he dragged my fiancé into the bedroom and they screamed up a storm while I lay on the living room floor sobbing. That was the first and only time I ever tried standing up to DeShawn, as Molly delights in telling her friends. “DeShawn runs shit around here,” she says to anyone who’ll listen.

February 8

Darlene is such a cunt. It’s easy to see where Molly gets her snootiness from. After I left the firm yesterday, I headed straight for my future mother-in-law’s house and started cleaning. I busted my ass all night and didn’t finish until after 11pm. Did I get a thank-you? Hell no. The whole time I was there, all Darlene did was belittle me and taunt me about DeShawn. Before I left, she pulled down her sweats and showed me her pussy, asking if I remembered what one looked like. It was so embarrassing, I just wanted to run out of there. But I knew not answering her might pose a problem, so I just faked a smile and said, “it has been a while.”

February 11

There’s nothing more embarrassing than standing outside the dressing room at Victoria’s Secret clutching your fiancé’s purse while she tries on sexy outfits to wear for her lover on Valentine’s Day — especially when she made it known to the salesladies that the lingerie is for someone other than the schmuck holding the bag. I wanted to die when I paid for the purchases, with the women all smirking and making snide remarks. There was no reason for Molly to tell the staff that the lingerie was for another man, other than pure cruelty. On the ride home, I hung my head and bit my lip, doing my best to keep from crying. Molly yelled at me and told me to stop moping, so I sat up straight in the passenger seat and pretended to watch the scenery as it zoomed by.

February 15

Valentine’s Day sucks when you’re a beta. I cleaned the condo spotless and fixed a special dinner for two. Once the candles were lit and both plates were full, DeShawn gave me his mother’s address and told me to report to her house for maid duty. As usual, I said, “yes, sir” and obeyed without hesitation. Jeez, I thought my mother-in-law was bad — Cassandra is ten times worse. From the second I stepped into her house she made it clear that while she absolutely loves Molly and supports her relationship with her son, she despises white males. Therefore, she said, she despises me by default. It took seven hours to clean Cassandra’s house, which was enough time for her to slap me six times and spit in my face twice after finding fault with my cleaning. When I was finished, she made me stand in the hallway with my legs spread and my hands on my head before kicking me in the nuts as hard as she could. After I collapsed in pain, she told me to kiss her shoe and thank her. I complied, and she kicked me in the head and said “now, get the fuck out, white boy.” I’m praying Molly doesn’t add cleaning Cassandra’s house to my regular duties. That woman has a lot of anger bottled up inside her, and after only one night I can already tell she loves taking out those frustrations on a lily-white ass.

February 16

Well, fuck me. Exactly what I didn’t want — DeShawn says from now on I have to go by his mom’s house once a week to clean. WTF, man. So, with my recurring appointment at Darlene’s house and DeShawn’s apartment, that’s three nights a week I’ll now be cleaning other people’s houses, in addition to my chores at home and all the other errands I’m sent on. For Molly and DeShawn, this polyandrous threesome is proving to be a sexy, relaxing lifestyle — but for me, it’s demoralizing and exhausting.

February 23

Per Molly’s orders, I asked the head of the firm if I can pick up extra cases, or stay late to help the other attorneys with research. Molly wants me to make as much money as I can between now and the wedding because she says she and DeShawn want to “honeymoon in style.” She says things like that because she thinks it’s funny to hurt my feelings. Sometimes I wish I was strong enough to get out of this abusive relationship. I guess I’m like those battered wives who keep going back to their husbands. Molly treats me like shit but I take it. With a smile. A fake smile, but a smile nonetheless.

March 19

Mr. Berkowitz accommodated my request and I’ve been working 14-hour days for the past few weeks. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, since I get to stay away from home longer, thus avoiding abuse from my fiancé and her lover. Plus, my last few checks have been huge. The bad news is, every dime of that extra money will go toward ensuring that Molly and DeShawn “honeymoon in style.” And despite all the extra hours, my domestic load hasn’t lightened one iota. I’m still expected to clean Darlene’s house every Monday, Cassandra’s every Wednesday, and DeShawn’s apartment every Thursday. If I get behind on my chores at home, I know Molly will cut me no slack, and if DeShawn’s around there’s a good chance she’ll slap the shit out of me if something doesn’t get done. She loves showing off for her man by being bitchy to me, and it drives him crazy when she does it. So, I’ve been killing myself to keep up with everything. It’s been rough, but I’ve managed. Who needs sleep?

March 26

I’m completely wrung out physically and emotionally. Last night was hands-down the worst night of my life. I served as the “bitch boy” at a party thrown by one of DeShawn’s friends and it was pure fucking hell. Molly made me wear a pair of her panties to the party, and when we got there I was told to strip, other than the pink, lacy underwear. There were about a dozen people there, and I spent the night serving drinks and having them pinch my ass and make fun of me. But the worst part was when DeShawn got drunk and forced me to kneel in the kitchen and suck his dick in front of everyone. I’ve been in complete anguish ever since. I can’t get the taste out of my mouth or the thought out of my head that I am now officially a cocksucker. Molly and several other people at the party filmed my debasement with their cellphones, so I’m sure the terrible moment will haunt me forever. I suspect there’ll be a lot more such horrible moments, too, because after DeShawn squirted all over my face and hair, he seemed pleased, bragging to his friends that I was a natural. He didn’t allow me to clean up, either, saying it would be “disrespectful,” so I spent the rest of the evening fetching drinks with dried cum on my face and tears in my eyes. It was a mortifying experience, something I wouldn’t have wished on my most hated enemy. I suppose it could have been worse — a couple of DeShawn’s friends also wanted blowjobs, but he told them I was “his bitch” and therefore off-limits. Molly told me I should feel proud to be DeShawn’s bitch. I lied to her and said I was grateful. In truth, I wanted to die when he said that. He’s starting to see me as his property.

April 2

During lunch yesterday, Molly told me that she and DeShawn had decided to let me come along on the honeymoon. After I fell over myself thanking her, she smirked and said, “April Fool’s.” DeShawn got a kick out of my crestfallen expression. He told me he had just the thing to cheer me up, and then made me suck his dick. He’s been having me do that a lot since the party last week.

April 7

DeShawn’s lease on his apartment is up April 19, and last night I was informed that he’d be moving in with us after that. This isn’t exactly a surprise, and I’d been bracing for it — although when Molly made it official, it was still quite the gut-punch. She said I’ll be responsible for moving everything, and that I should start packing stuff the next time I clean DeShawn’s apartment, so I don’t have to do it all at once.

April 10

As if things couldn’t get worse, DeShawn told me yesterday that he’d be converting the guest room into his mancave. When I asked him where I was going to sleep, he said “in the bathtub for all I care.” I don’t know if he was joking or not, though, because he laughed when he said it. Whether he was serious or not, if he takes over the guest bedroom I won’t have anywhere to sleep, since that’s the only other bedroom in the condo besides the master suite, and I doubt I’ll be allowed to bunk down in there with them. Why should I be allowed a place to sleep? I’m just the guy who pays all the bills.

April 12

Well, the mystery over where I’ll be sleeping is solved. Molly says I can put a dog bed in the hall closet. She told me to go buy one now and to break down the bed in the guest room, so everything will be ready for when DeShawn moves in. So, I guess my days of sleeping in a bed like a normal human being are over. A dog bed in the closet??? WTF.

April 14

I keep hitting new lows. When I was at her house last night, Cassandra made me drink her piss. I was in the bathroom scrubbing the floor when she came in brandishing a plastic cup. She sat on the toilet and held the cup under her pussy, filling it with urine. Then, she handed it to me and told me to say “cheers!” before downing the cup in one gulp. I managed to obey although I almost threw up. She told me to thank her for the honor, which I did with all the respect I could muster. Later, when I’d resumed my cleaning, I overheard Cassandra on the phone bragging to her friend about what she’d done. I got a chill when she said, “sure, come on over when he cleans next Wednesday and I’ll make him drink yours, too.”

April 16

I keep thinking about what Cassandra told her friend on the phone, and debating whether I should say anything to DeShawn about it. At the party last month, he’d told everyone that I wasn’t sexually available because I was his “bitch,” but I’m not sure if that rule extends to his mother making me drink her piss — or, worse, making me drink some stranger’s piss. I haven’t worked up the nerve to say anything, though, and I probably won’t. DeShawn might get pissed if he thinks I’m dissing his mom.

April 17

Ugh, I can’t get this Cassandra situation out of my head. One thing that’s bothering me: Is her friend a man or a woman? It was impossible to tell from hearing just her half of the conversation. I suppose it doesn’t matter — DeShawn has me sucking his dick constantly now, anyway, and Cassandra’s probably going to regularly have me drinking her piss since the genie’s out of the bottle, so what difference does it make whether the person whose pee I have to drink is male or female? Piss is piss, right?

April 19

Yet another demoralizing milestone. DeShawn had me lick his ass last night for the first time. He had bits of toilet paper stuck to his bunghole and I gagged when it touched my tongue — which earned me a severe bitch-slap for being “disrespectful.” But I managed to get through it in one piece. As I do when giving blowjobs, I just closed my eyes and drifted to my happy place, blocking out the terrible world and concentrating on the dialogue from a favorite movie. Last night it was “A League of Their Own.” There’s no crying in baseball or when you’re tossing your fiancé’s boyfriend’s salad.

April 20

Well, DeShawn’s all moved in. Of course, I did all the work while he sat on his ass and directed. I had to throw out 90% of my stuff since there’s no longer room. All that’s left are my suits for work and my laptop; everything else got shitcanned, including my high school yearbooks, family mementos and almost all my casual clothes. Oh, well. I didn’t really need that stuff anyway.

April 21

When I went to Cassandra’s after work to clean last night, she introduced me to her friend, a huge woman named Violet. The lady seemed eager to make me drink her piss, although she was shy and went into the bathroom alone to pee in the cup. Cassandra made me kneel down and drink every drop before thanking her friend for the honor. Then, Cassandra decided to show off, so she made me stand still with my hands on my head while she and her friend took turns kicking me in the balls. When they finally got tired of abusing me, I was released to clean the house while they chatted in the living room.

May 2

We’ve got a new household routine. Almost every night now, DeShawn will holler “hey, bitch, come give me my propers,” which means I have to find a spot behind him and lick his ass. As you might imagine, it’s quite demoralizing to give DeShawn his “propers” when my fiancé is right there watching. Between the constant blowjobs and rim-jobs, I can’t say I don’t have a sex life anymore. It’s not exactly the kind of sex I would’ve chosen, but I do get a lot of action these days. My mouth does, anyway.

May 5

I overheard Molly talking to her mom on the phone about having kids with DeShawn. He apparently wants a big family, and she told her mom she’s glad she’ll have me around to change diapers. As strange as it seems, I felt a twinge of satisfaction hearing that. At least it means Molly wants to keep me around long-term.

May 9

Well, I feared this day was coming. DeShawn has decided to take over the wedding. He announced last night that he’s going to be my best man and he said he may get his buddies to replace my brothers in the wedding party. He says it’s going to be a “poly wedding.” I called Joel and told him he was out as best man and that DeShawn would be handling those duties. My brother cussed me out and hung up on me.

May 11

I got into a huge argument with Mom and Dad on the phone today. They said they never want to speak to me again. This has been brewing for some time in my family. I wish things were different, but they made me choose. I chose Molly. They say they can’t stand seeing how she treats me. Well, I’ve learned to live with it — fuck them if they can’t.

May 12

Now Joel and Ron aren’t coming to the wedding, so I’ve pretty much alienated my entire family. They say Molly’s making a fool out of me by having DeShawn replace Joel as my best man. I told Joel to talk to DeShawn if he has a problem with it, and he shut up right quick. The dumbass learned his lesson a few months ago when he tried to tell DeShawn to stop embarrassing the family by being so open about his affair with Molly. I learned the same lesson after Molly brought her boyfriend home for the first time and I was stupid enough to protest. The lesson? You don’t question DeShawn.

May 24

DeShawn has changed the wedding vows. It’s already written that I will promise to obey Molly, but DeShawn added the phrase “and I will obey DeShawn as well.” Then, since this will be a “poly wedding,” DeShawn is going to say a few words, pledging to love and honor Molly until death do they part. The magistrate Molly chose is quite progressive and when she ran the new vows past him, he said they’re great. The ceremony is going to be embarrassing as hell, but the whole wedding’s going to be a fucking nightmare anyway. I’ve made up my mind: I’m going to just square my shoulders and get through it, because when it’s all over Molly will be my bride. I can’t wait. She’s in love with another man but I don’t care. She’ll be my wife, and that means everything to me.
(continued below)

Last year, I was in a car accident, which left me physically immobile. My boyfriend helped me through this. He took up a caretaking role and took care of our apartment. My family lives in another state, so they couldn't help me physically. It has been 13 months, and I can finally walk again with just a slight discomfort sometimes, but my physical therapist said that was normal. I have been walking regularly now for about 2 weeks.
So my boyfriend leaves the house for work at around 7 a.m. and works until 5 p.m. So I have kind of a messed-up sleeping schedule, so I sleep around 4 a.m. and wake up whenever. So I wake up around 12 p.m., and I see a note that reads exactly this:
Can you do the dishes? (The kitchen was wiped down and clean, but he had just meal prepped for me the previous day, so the dishes were a lot.)
Clear the bedroom floor (there were just some clothes on the floor), then do the laundry.
Can you open the windows and the balcony? The house feels stuffy.
thankyou
I had every intention of doing what was on the list. I went to have breakfast, then opened all the windows and doors to air the place out, and I watched a film. cleared our bedroom floor. took another break, then he was home. I hadn't washed the dishes or done the laundry yet. but I was going to get to it; they were the most tasking, and I didn't want to overwhelm myself. My boyfriend comes home, and I think everything is normal. He changes, starts the laundry, and then starts doing the dishes. I tell him I am going to do it, and he says it is fine. He does the dishes for like 5 minutes while I am watching TV, and then he throws the pan he was holding on the floor (the handle broke, and this was out of nowhere) (he has never yelled at me before, so I just can't comprehend how he would throw something), gets his car keys, and leaves. I am literally wondering what just happened because it happened so fast. I checked his location, and he was at his sister's house. I tried to call him, but he didn't respond. He came home the next evening, and I asked him what yesterday was about, and he called me irritating and told me how frustrated he was that I didn't finish the chore list.
The thing is, I was going to do it, just not on his timeline. I think because my physical doctor gave me the OK, he just thinks I am okay. I have adhd and depression (which leads to me feeling unmotivated a lot), anxiety, and ptsd from the accident, and I am still adjusting to not being on crutches and wheel chairs. My psychologist and physical therapist have both told me to take my time to adjust and not overwhelm myself. I explained that to him plus the fact that i wasn’t told it had to be done before he came home like am child, and he just rolled his eyes and said ok (my name), like he was indulging me. He didn't communicate with me concerning the issue; he just said he was staying with his sister for a few days. He packed his stuff and left. I feel like I am being punished for being sick. Am I being an asshole?

I moved back to my hometown 2 years ago to help, when I realized her memory wasn't so great. Mum lived on her own. It took a year of appointments, and stress, and the stove catching fire, and phone calls from police in the middle of the night finding her in her car out of gas because she got lost, and arguments with friends and family to get her diagnosed with dementia. She never had a family Dr.
We moved mum into a retirement home with a locked memory care floor, end of March 2022, as she was able to do everything on her own, but needed supervision.
A year later, March 2023, the retirement home said they could not provide her the care she needed as she was no longer able to care for herself, or walk/stand. This was after 2 months of us paying extra for them to feed her. And, as we found out later, they hadn't been bathing her either as they didn't have the proper lift equipment. End of March 2023, we moved mum into Long Term Care.
Mum passed May 01, 2023 of sepsis at age 71. Not having baths or being physically moved can cause skin breakdown. Her open sore got infected and the antibiotics couldn't stop it.
It hurts so much knowing that it didn't have to go this way. I would have bathed her myself, had I known. We only found out when they asked to schedule her with the hairdresser to have her hair washed.
I miss my mum. I miss having her sit on FaceTime while I would work. I miss our laughs. Even with her dementia, I would call and chat with her about everything.
My grandma, and last living grandparent, passed in February. She was my dad's mum. My dad passed 13 years ago.
Sometimes it all feels like it's just too much. Life shouldn't be this hard. I just really miss my mum.

I'm waiting for my new car and I'm so excited, i was reading the advantages and disadvantage of the FPP, one of them is that in the edges it might not be great also since it's quite expensive i was thinking to only wrap the front part and then use a ceramic coating. Do you have a good experience with FPP, currently my car has only ceramic coating and i try to take care of the car (manual wash, removing droppings with products and so on) and i like to drive in the highway in Germany/Poland so make me wonder Do you have any experience? Would you recommend this or just ceramic coating? Thanks

Never really worked on a car before besides changing oil and doing minor electrical issues /swaps. However looking to get into a project car, something that I can acquire for cheap and than pour a bunch of money into as I move along. Without being money wasted. Want something fun and fast but required to have 4-wheel drive, just cause. Looking for something with a good community or insane horsies. As far as the sex appeal, longer hood = sexier. Im looking into c4s but not fully satisfied with what there bring to the table, as the hood leaves little room for massive amounts of modding, and i want mo powa (eventually) plus only rwd. What its gonna be used for? who knows i live next to a drag strip and want to get into rallying. ...aka im a car noob, only owned boring daily driver beaters. (but ready to get my hands dirty, and that space in the garage dedicated to something that might not move for a hot minute)

I am seasonally employed in a corporate job from December-May and spend the rest of my year traveling. I’ve been on this schedule for a few years now. For legal purposes my “permanent address” is my mom’s address in Texas, so during my time off I buy insurance through the ACA marketplace using that address (the rest of the year I get coverage from my employer). I am a healthy person who has never had more than a few hundred in annual healthcare costs, and because of this I always go with the cheapest “disaster plan” option for the summer just to limit my out of pocket to $9K and make sure I don’t go bankrupt if I fall off a mountain or get hit by a car.
In the past, I’ve always bought marketplace insurance from Bright Healthcare at a sticker rate of $120/mo that comes out to $80/mo when adjusting for tax credits based on income. This year I will make too much to receive any credits, so I was expecting to pay about $120. When I went to look into marketplace plans this year, I was shocked to see that Bright Healthcare has left the state, and the cheapest option I will have is a United plan for $260/month. Has anyone else experienced similar premium increases? This will be over 3x what I am used to paying, and I’ll get basically no coverage for it. Do I have any other options?
Thanks for your help.
Edit from Automod recs: Age: 28 Income: Approx $115K/yr (all concentrated during Jan-June, not evenly spaced) Zip: TX, Houston area

Hello, apologies for the long post.
My family (myself, my partner and our son) moved into our flat (rented in London) last summer, and it quickly became clear that our neighbours (M+F, mid 40s) in the flat below would cause us issues.
In under a week after moving in we had the first notes being put through our door. These were complaining about everything from parking too close to their car, to walking around with shoes on or hoovering. We were more naive then, and don't like conflict, so we always sent an apology note, and tried to be quieter.
It quickly became clear that appeasing them wasn't going to work. Despite trying our best to be quiet on the floor and hoover only in the middle of the day, we received the first email from our landlord that there had been noise complaints about us, and if it didn't stop he would take action against us. These specifically mentioned walking around, using the washing machine and hoovering.
At this point we were very anxious about being evicted, so I took measures to make sure we were as quiet as possible, such as buying cushioned slippers for all of us. However, we soon received more emails from our landlord, and also letters from the council pollution team about noise complaints.
At around the same time, they started banging furiously on the ceiling every time we hoovered. This was particularly distressing to my partner, as she feared they would come upstairs in anger. We stopped hoovering altogether for her sake and bought a broom to sweep.
Things got worse from there as our son was taken out of class one day by the welfare officer, and questioned about us as parents. We found this out from him when he came home and wasn't notified by the school. I had a meeting with the welfare officer the next day, and she explained that they were acting on an anonymous complaint.
The banging on the ceiling got worse and more aggressive in nature, so I contacted the police. It was passed to the local neighbourhood team. An officer visited us and told us he would speak to them to. He told them to stop banging, but also said he couldn't do much else as it was a neighbour dispute, and they had made counter complaints against us for noise.
While dealing with these reports and complaints, we were also dealing with lots anti-social behaviour from them. They drink a lot and often come home in the early hours of the morning, shouting and arguing and we often hear loud smashes and banging. One night we had to call 999, as it sounded as if the wife was being attacked by her husband. In the morning we found out that he had broken in their front door in a rage. The police attended and removed the husband from the building.
However, a few days later, the police came to our flat. I assumed it was to gather more info on the incident form before, but they told me they were here because they had received noise and anti-social behaviour complaints from our neighbours below. I was completely shocked, and it took me a while to explain to the police that it was likely just retaliation for the 999 call we had made a few evenings before. They seemed to understand, and really just seemed annoyed to be involved in something so silly.
I called the council around this time, and received a letter form the head community trigger officer, she explained that she had personally dealt with our neighbours as they had tried to escalated complaints to her office a month before hand. She explained that she believed their behaviour constituted harassment, and that we should consider applying for an N16a injunction against them. I think this is a good idea, but I am struggling to find legal support or help on how to proceed. The form is online on .GOV, but it is confusing and appears as though it should be filled out by a lawyer. I sent a few emails to places like the South West London Law Centre, but have received replies saying they can't assist in this matter, as it's a neighbour dispute.
I would really appreciate any advice on how best to go about filing a N16a, or any other advice anyone can give us.
We have also contacted our landlord about these issues, but he refers us to the council and the police. We would also love to move, but money is very tight atm as my partner is currently retraining.
Thanks in advance!

A car washer is a person or a machine specifically designed to clean vehicles. It uses water, cleaning agents, and various washing techniques to remove dirt, grime, and stains from cars. Car washers can be manual operators or automated systems that provide a thorough cleaning while saving time and effort for car owners.

My (28F) husband (31M) has struggled with alcohol and also has not stop smoking marijuana since I met him nearly 9 years ago. The alcohol has caused some serious issues in our relationship. He used to drink daily and I eventually asked him to stop because it was leading him to be untrustworthy, I didn’t want my kids growing up thinking this was normal, and his behavior was wrong on so many levels (being rude, sleeping when I needed help with kids etc and sometimes borderline cheating). He has a medical card as well for marijuana and refuses to stop. He told the doctor he had anxiety and chronic hand pain, neither of which he ever complained about to me. I had to beg him to stop actually smoking it because of the changes it also caused in his behaviors. Now he just vapes and I’ve caught my toddler with it or it fell out of his pocket on many occasions. I have decided to also abstain from alcohol to be supportive and I also just do not enjoy it. It caused problems in my life as well when I was younger.
My husband has been hiding drinking from me, even though I catch him nearly every time because I see the behavior change or notice it on his breath. Last night when I called him out he insisted I was crazy, yet he went in to use mouth wash within 5 minutes and I found his cup in the car full of beer, a grocery bag with empty cans and small bottle of liquor. I brought them inside and when he came back from his walk, he pretty much said I can’t control him and he could care less. He has done so much to deceive me under the influence I can’t just let a tall boy a night go. I am due with our 3rd child in 3 weeks and his mom was supposed to come help us with our two other kids (one is his step child). I decided enough was enough. I texted her and told her to spare herself from coming and he can just be with the kids. I will give birth alone. I feel like he doesn’t deserve to be there and I don’t want someone like this in my space during such a vulnerable time. I am supposed to go unmedicated for the first time because we chose a birth center and he has also failed to prepare himself or make me feel comfortable in anyway. He was extremely mad at the text and told me I could just be in my own and leave.
I don’t know what to do here. I know all the advice will be just leave but I am a SAHM. I have no family or friends here. I don’t feel as though scrambling to find a job after giving birth is the best option but he does not want to change and I can not live with the fact that he is taking advantage of the situation because he knows I am unable to leave.

Hi, my oldest kid (2m) is not yet diagnosed, he has an evaluation in August but all his therapists believe he will receive it without question. My issue is with daycare, I'll post full details below. Basically I need advice on whether to: 1 - stick with current daycare until a spot at my second son's daycare opens up 2 - try to find another daycare entirely until he's in a school program 3 - find another daycare only until a spot at my second son's daycare opens up.
My 2nd son (10 mo) thrives at his daycare so I don't really want to move him and it's nearby my husband's work. They were supposed to have a spot for my oldest in January once they opened their second location, that got pushed back to March, then to June, and now TBD. First due to construction, now I think due to staffing, no update on a new ETA.
The current daycare for my 2 year old has us driving an extra 210 miles a week minimum, it's out of the way from home and work (only 1 car) and his special instructor can't make it out that far so twice a week I have to drop off hubby + youngest, go back home for special instruction, drop him off to daycare, then go to work myself for a few hours. All of his other therapists (OT, speech, PT) can make it to current daycare and will be able to make it to my 2nd son's location, including special instructor.
Daycares by home are too far for OT/PT/speech. Daycares by my work are even further out of range for everyone. Daycares by hubby's work have been full forever with a few spots springing up here and there will little turn around time (1-2 days) before being filled - I haven't done my rounds in a while to know if they'll even have anything open and it'll be 50/50 on whether or not special instructor can make it to that location.
My son has been doing so well with his therapists that I don't want to ruin it but every day is such a long day. We also have no end in sight, it's been 9 months of waiting with the ETA continually being pushed out. I keep thinking "just make it to ___" and it'll get better, but we get to that goal and then it moves.
Both my hubby and I are running on fumes. He works full time, I work 35 hours a week - most of it during the day but with all the driving I have to do I'm usually working at night too, especially with handling all appointments. I can't really reduce my hours nor would it be beneficial to do so (I'm given pto as if I were full time, position I'm in was supposed to be full time only but my manager and I worked really hard to get me it anyway, and this manager is the only 1 that let's me be this flexible with my hours). We're usually up at 5:00 am (ideally at least 6 am), out the door by 7 am, lucky to be home by 5:15 pm. By the time kids are in bed (between 6:30 & 8:00) we're lucky enough to have the energy to make dinner and little else.
Switching his daycare would really help our time management and mental but I think it would be at his detriment, especially with how hard the transition would be for him. His current daycare has the lead infant teacher keeping an extra eye on him, since the teachers in his room keep changing. The 1st daycare he attended at 7 mo was so awful he had to be pulled within a month despite waiting 7 months for the spot. 9 months later we got him a part time spot elsewhere and he hated it with a passion and it felt like none of the teachers cared about him. We were lucky his current daycare opened up brand new so he was only at the second daycare for a month (previous owner was closing but it got bought up and re-opened).
I know kids can be resilient but I'm not sure if this is something we should just tough out, especially since he might qualify for a school program in January, he will highly likely qualify for a school program next August once he's 3.

First of all, phone calls are a no so you’re immediately going to have to double down on the car washing lest you drive a Range Rover with tinted windows and speckles of owl shit.
Year one: “Hi mum and dad, schools going great, we learned to levitate feathers and the potions master is a bit of a dick.”
“Hi mum and dad. That weird teacher turned out to be a fiddler or something cause he’s gone now”
Year two: “Hi mum and dad, no girlfriend yet but I kinda have my eye on this really smart girl so fingers crossed!”
“Hi mum and dad, she got paralysed by some giant snake or something, a few people have, also there’s spiders everywhere for some reason and I got chased by an angry car. Also that Harry kid killed the caretakers cat.”
Year Three: “Dad don’t tell mum. There’s some serial killer on the loose and the headmasters face has completely changed. That rich snobby kid got attacked by like a…goat…eagle? And now the half giant groundskeeper isn’t allowed near students.”
“THE NEW TEACHER WAS A WEREWOLF WHAT IN CHRIST.”
Year four: “Hi gran, are mum and dad home yet? Listen, there’s this competition at school, we’re having other schools join us and the French girls are hot af. Like absolutely banging. Feel a bit uncomfortable about the Russians though. Also my mate Cedric said I could come to his at Christmas if that’s okay?”
“Hi gran. I don’t know what’s happening anymore. There’s some evil wizard that’s apparently back but everyone says Harry’s making it up and Cedric’s dead. The weird thing was the school orchestra did not give a shit and just kept playing some kind of murder anthem while he was just…lying there. I want to come home.”
Year five: “Hi gran. How you feeling after the stroke? Any word from mum and dad? Tell them we have a new teacher and she’s actually a bit of an arsehole but she’s at least trying to have some semblance of normality in the school now. Can I come home at Christmas this year?”
“Gran. Not sure my last letter arrived, don’t know if the owls know where your hospice is ha ha. Anyway, hope alls well. I’m on track to do really well in my exams so hopefully no shenanigans happens during them. That teacher has apparently been using corporal punishment and the old headmaster exploded into a phoenix or something. Really looking forward to seeing you guys in the summer.”
Year six: “Hey Steve, thought I’d write you so you can see how I’m doing. We’ve got a new potions teacher and he’s really nice. Like really nice. This seems to be the first normal year in this school, just wish mum and dad hadn’t gone radio silent. I’ll send you some of our cool sweets.”
“Hey Steve, can you pull me from the school? Paramilitaries attacked it and set half the place on fire. And all anyone cares about is that the headmaster is dead. Not that yknow, my dorm was set on fire. By an escaped murderer.”
Year seven: “Hi mum and dad, I hope this finds you, people say the owls can find anyone. I’m not sure what I did or if the stress of my school years was too much but I just hope one day you can talk to me. I hope Alice hasn’t forgot her big brother. I miss gran. This year is really stressful and I could use a bit of comfort from my parents. I’m scared.”
“Dear muggle scum. I have joined the death eaters. Your abandonment has shown me that muggles cannot be trusted to live in harmony with wizard kind. I’ll be seeing you soon.”
“Dear mum and dad. Ha ha that last letter was a joke, I would never join the death eaters. Even though they absolutely won the war but changed their minds. I killed Voldemort. Can I come home?”

So, I overslept this morning and woke up to my wife basically shaking me out of my sleep. I had taken some meds (headache, nausea and body pains) last night that completely knocked me out and caused me to sleep through my alarms.
In my opinion, the above is what triggered the shit show that was to follow.
Because I drop my wife at work in the morning, I had a little over half an hour to get myself up, drop her off and be back at home in time for morning meeting at 8am. This usually takes me about 40 minutes, so I was a little behind and decided to forego my morning poop.
My wife, being the darling that she is, had my coffee waiting for me so I gulped it down, grabbed an orange and we headed out.
The drive to her work was longer than usual due to the fact that it was raining. I felt the familiar feeling of a fart and let it out gently, so as not to disturb the poop that laid in wait behind it.
This was no ordinary fart. It smelled of rotting potatoes with a hint of egg and an almost palpable tanginess. I tried to warn my wife of the stench that was about to violate her nose, but alas, it was too late.
She had smelt what I had dealt and immediately started to dry heave. As I rolled the windows down to let my egg salad perfume out, she vomited. At least she had the presence of mind to do so in a gift bag that had been lying in the car. About 2 minutes later, we pulled up at her work and she got out to check if she had messed on her clothing.
She was clean but my car now smelled of stomach juice and coffee. I offered to help her in and let her know that I would clean the little bit of mess that had hit the floor, seeing that this was my fault.
She disappeared into the building and I pulled out some wet wipes and got to cleaning the car, as I could not stand the smell and I still had a 20 minute drive home.
I looked for a bin to put the vomit filled gift bag in, but there was non. So I got a plastic carrier bag and sort of wrapped the everything up in it. It was secure and I was certain that it would be fine on the quick drive home.
I got into the car and started my drive home, noting that I was about 20 minutes behind. I pulled over and shot my 2IC a message to let her know I would be late and that she should run our catch up this morning.
I was about to pull away when the poop decided it would like to see the light of day. I was about 15 minutes from home and didn't think I would be able to make it. So I turned back and went to my wife's work place to relieve myself.
As I pulled up, the poop knocked on my poop door once more and I clenched as hard as I could, but ultimately, a little bit of it crossed the line and was now snuggled between the cheeks of my bum. I waddled over to the door and once inside, made a beeline to the bathroom on the 2nd floor.
As I got into the stall, I fumbled the lock and as I attempted to latch the door, the liquid slosh that was begging for release decided to make another push. This time, I could not hold it back and a warm stream of poop ran down my leg. Luckily I was wearing my thermal underwear and it caught all of the poop, so my jeans was spared. However, my undies were now an improvised poop holding device.
I started to strip and carefully took off my clean clothes but my socks, undies and vest were ruined.
I stood in the stall and wiped myself down, carefully removed the poop soaked clothing and stood there. Naked as the day I was born. Thinking about how I ended up in this situation.
My thoughts were disrupted by the stall door flying open. A man, probably about 60 years old, locked eyes with me, looked down at the poop bundle on the floor and immediately back tracked. I hurriedly cleaned up, got dressed and hoped he was gone by the time I was done. He was.
I washed myself up and folded my clothes so that no poop was visible. There were no bins in the bathroom so I decided to dispose of it outside. There were no bins outside either, as mentioned, so I chucked the poopy clothes into the vomit bag and made the difficult trip home.
Now this is generally where you would expect a story to end. But for me, this was not the end....
As mentioned, it was raining and for some reason, people forget how to drive in the rain.
I had the windows rolled down slightly to air the car and as I was getting my shit together, my cell rings. I am not in the habit of answering calls whilst driving, so I let it run to voicemail. This happened 3 more times and I decided that it was important enough to take the call.
As I looked down to answer my cell, the guy in front of me hit the brakes to avoid hitting someone else. My reaction time was good, and I managed to hit the brakes in time to avoid hitting him. However, the sudden stop caused the poopy clothes vomit bag to open and spill onto the floor of the car.
I was now driving with I can only describe as a biohazard. In terms of smell and visual, it was a disaster. I gagged and yelled at myself to hold it together.
At this point I was about 3 mins from home. I thought I could make it but literally as I pulled into the driveway, my gag reflex gave up. I vomited all over myself and the steering wheel.
I have since managed to clean the car. I've dumped all of the cursed clothes I had worn this morning and taken the day off work.
I haven't told my wife and probably won't.
Tldr; Felt shitty, took meds, overslept, pooped myself, vomited on myself and spoiled the carpet in my car.