JM’s Playbook: Back at the Bar

I know.

I told you I was going to tell you about the drive home from Tahoe, through the Delta and a place called Fat Lou’s.

I will.

That’s the next Playbook. Because that little detour turned into a story of its own and, in true Playbook fashion, it sent Mike off on an adventure too.

But first, I had to get home. Back from Tahoe. Back to work. Back behind the bar. And back to my Saturday mornings with Mike. Although that last part isn’t anything new. For many years Mike and I catch up at Ed’s Mudville Grill most Saturday mornings.

Mike wanders in around nine. Coffee for him. Me getting ready for the day.

And we talk.

Sports. Dive bars. Vegas. Restaurants. Fantasy football. Some story from the bar that week, and there are plenty of them. Some new event or place one of us discovered.

I’m a Raiders guy.

Mike’s a Seahawks guy.

We’ve been doing this for years. The only difference now is there’s a laptop sitting on the bar.

A Little Mayberry

Clayton still has a little Mayberry in it. People know each other. Somebody walks through the door and there’s a pretty good chance I know their name, what they drink and probably something about their family. After 28 years behind the same bar, you get to know a few people.

Mike lives right across the border in Concord.

I emphasize Concord.

He can walk here from his house.

But he doesn’t live in Clayton.

I do.

This is an important distinction that I make sure Mike never forgets.

He’ll tell you it’s right across the border.

Doesn’t matter.

There’s a border.

Saturday mornings are usually quiet before we open. Mike sits at the bar with his coffee. We talk. Then at 11:00AM the doors open. People come in. Somebody pulls up a stool. And the circle gets a little bigger. That’s pretty much how this whole thing works.

Our Guy

And then there’s Our Guy. That’s not his name. I’m not going to tell you his name. There’s no big mystery. He’s one of my best customers a good friend and not just one of my guys, but Our Guy.

We’ve been on plenty of adventures together. Raiders games. A’s games. Vegas. NFL Sundays. We’re partners in crime. He’s also a private guy. No pictures. No videos. No social media. I know where that line is. So does Mike. And we respect it.There’s just one problem. He’s in half the stories. So you’re going to hear about Our Guy. You’re just not going to find out who he is.

That’s the deal.

Now There’s a Laptop on the Bar

The laptop is the new part. Mike works on SF Bay Weekend from the same bar where we’ve been talking for years. I’ll look over his shoulder. He’ll show me something. Our Guy will weigh in. Then another somebody comes in.

“Have you seen Mike’s website?”

“Did you read my Tahoe story?”

“You gotta check this out.”

Pretty soon somebody else is looking over Mike’s shoulder. Then somebody has an opinion. Somebody has a story. Somebody knows a place.

Mike starts asking questions.

That’s Mike. He listens. A throwaway comment. A joke. A story. A place somebody mentions. Most of us hear it, laugh and move on. Mike doesn’t always move on. Sometimes you can actually see the moment something clicks. We saw it this weekend.

The Street Signs

It started with Clayton’s street signs. They’re one of those little Clayton things I’ve known about forever. Brown, distinctive, old fashioned. Mike had seen them. He just didn’t know the story behind them.

“You don’t know about the signs?”

Nope.

Of course he didn’t.

He’s from Concord.

That got me a look.

Now I’m enjoying myself.

Mike started asking questions. Why are they different? Why do they look like that? What’s the story?

So we told him. Clayton fought hard to stay Clayton. Back in the early 1960s, this was still an unincorporated community and neighboring Concord was expanding. People here organized to protect the town, and Clayton ultimately incorporated as its own city in 1964.

I may have pointed out that even back then, Clayton was trying to keep Concord on the other side of the border.

Mike didn’t find that nearly as funny as I did.

Our Guy did.

By this point, it was afternoon. Mike had been sitting at the bar since nine. Coffee was long gone. Then somebody said something else about the signs. I saw the look. Our Guy saw the look. We all knew the look. Mike’s eyes got big. He jumped out of his seat and headed for the door like somebody had fired him out of a cannon.

There goes Mike.

We all started laughing. Because Mike has this thing. You know that friendly neighborhood dog who’s perfectly happy sitting there with everybody?

Then suddenly -

SQUIRREL!

Gone.

That’s Mike with an idea. And apparently the squirrel that afternoon was a Clayton street sign. He’s outside taking pictures while we’re watching him through the window and laughing. A few minutes later, he comes charging back in. Laptop opens. Pictures come up.

“What if we did this?”

Here we go.

A few ideas later, the street signs and Mount Diablo had inspired a small Clayton Heritage Series for the SF Bay Weekend shop.

That was it. A conversation at the bar became something you could wear.

I Gotta Guy

JM’s Playbook happened pretty much the same way. I’ve been telling Mike these stories forever. Vegas. Dive bars. Restaurants. Road trips. People I know.

“I gotta guy.”

Mike heard something in all of it and gave it a home.

JM’s Playbook.

Now there are a few hats and shirts built around it too. Apparently, after 28 years behind a bar, I have merchandise.

Who knew?

We’ve Been Talking About This for Years

The funny part is, none of this started with SF Bay Weekend. For years, I’ve been telling Mike we should do something with all these stories. A podcast. A microphone. Something. I’ve been harping on him about it forever. Then Mike went and did it.

SF Bay Weekend.

Now we have somewhere to put all of it. The stories. The road trips. The places. The people we meet. All those conversations we’ve been having at the bar for years. Mike’s already talking about doing something on Sundays during football season. Football, stories, the weekend - the same stuff we’re talking about anyway.

But I do have one concern.

Fantasy football.

We have a league at Ed’s made up of a bunch of the regulars. Mike and I share a team, and every year one of us takes the lead. This year? Mike’s turn. Normally, I’d be fine with that.

But have you been paying attention?

The guy is obsessed with SF Bay Weekend. I’ve watched him spend an entire Saturday on that laptop, jump out of his chair to photograph street signs and come running back in to start designing T-shirts.

And this is the guy handling our fantasy draft? I’m getting nervous.

Our Guy, meanwhile, has his own team. He’s not nervous at all. In fact, every time Mike starts talking about another idea for the website, I swear I can see Our Guy rubbing his hands together. He knows exactly what this means. Mike distracted. Our Guy is grinning ear to ear. Me wondering why I agreed to let Mike take the lead this year.

So Mike, if you’re reading this:

I love what you’re doing with SF Bay Weekend. Really. But football season is coming. Put down the laptop.

We need a running back.

Back at the Bar

Maybe that’s what I noticed most after coming home from Tahoe. Nothing here really changed. Saturday morning. Mike with his coffee. Me behind the bar. Our Guy eventually wandering in. The same jokes. The same arguments. The same stories. Then the doors open. Somebody pulls up a stool. And the circle gets a little bigger.

Except now there’s a laptop sitting on the bar.

And every once in a while, something we’ve been laughing about for years ends up on SF Bay Weekend.

Or apparently on a hat.

And we’ve got plenty more where that came from. Including that drive home from Tahoe.

Remember?

Highway 160. The Delta. Fat Lou’s. I found a place. Then I found a guy. I came back and told Mike:

“You gotta go check this out.”

So he did. That’s next.

Everybody’s got Google.

I’ve got a guy.

And now you do too.

JM