Winners and Losers

The Field That Raised Me…

What are your favorite sports to watch and play?

Sports have always been a huge part of my life. They’ve been there for as long as I can remember. I come from a long line of athletes. My grandfather even had an opportunity to pitch for the Detroit Tigers, but he chose to serve in World War II instead. My father was a great athlete too, and he was also my coach growing up, teaching me the game—and a lot about life—along the way…

I love a lot of sports, but my two main ones are American football and baseball. I played Little League all through my childhood and into my teens. I didn’t just throw on a uniform and participate—I excelled. I was a star, haha. I’m normally pretty humble, but I want to be accurate here so you can feel what I’m putting down 😅 I was mainly a pitcher, but in between starts I played shortstop and left field, doing whatever my team needed… I also hit for power and average.

In little league.. I once made an insane diving catch in left field to win the game… the crowd went nuts… bum-rushed me and carried me off the field on their shoulders cheering haha…

Sports were where I learned who I was when things got hard…

I kept it going into junior high and high school, playing both baseball and football. On the football field I lined up at quarterback, wide receiver, and at cornerback on defense, and I excelled there too. The dream was always to try and go pro in baseball, but along the way I got pulled into the music scene and ended up chasing that route instead. Even then, I never really left sports behind. I kept playing, jumping into league softball over the years and staying connected to the game any way I could.

As far as watching sports, my heart stays close to home. I love the Atlanta Braves and Falcons, and when it comes to college football, I’m a huge Georgia fan—Go Dawgs! Major League Baseball, the NFL, and college football are my mainstays, but I also enjoy basketball and golf, both playing and watching. Sports have always been more than just games to me. I’m thankful I grew up the way I did, grateful for the chance to play, I miss them days…

…….⚾🏈→🧠→💪→⛈️→†→’…….o8o→||→{me}→~⛈~→|†|→’ …….⚾🏈…….“`💥→🧱→|†|→’…….⚾+🏈→|me|→⛈️→’

My first year in little league… im holding the bat wrong in this pic.. my hands are opposite how they should be lol

1 Corinthians 9:24–26 (NIV)

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize… Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever…

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson. All rights reserved.

`’.,°~

Shakespeare & Me & Neil Young (Week 13)

Twelfth Night…

Willy `•.

“In delay there lies no plenty…
Then come kiss me… sweet and twenty…”

Neil “;-^

“You can’t be twenty on Sugar Mountain…
Though you’re thinking that you’re leaving there too soon…”

Me `’.,°~

Over my damp shoulder…
a lying doorway… to rooms that no longer exist…

…….😮→🏔️🍬→🎙️🎪→🎈🎈..→🚫2️⃣0️⃣→→🏔️🍬..→💭🚶‍♂️💨→⏳→’

The End…

Spend it…
You can’t keep it…
You can’t return to it…

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson. All rights reserved.

`’.,°~

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   ‘.    ‘-.__.-‘      .’
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The Window Song

one broken summer… one beautiful moment…

The Summer of 97`
was rough man…

like couldn’t get any worse…
far as the heart goes…


go read my story First Love
and you will get it… 😁


…but now looking back…
it was beautiful…

So I did three things that summer…

went to work…
played my guitar…
hung out with friends…


killing everything with drugs and alcohol…
straight up gunning my life down…


At the time… I was living in a downstairs apartment…
in the burbs of Atlanta…


That summer… I spent many a day and night…
many an hour…


sitting on the edge of my bed…
right in front of an open window…


strumming my strings…
singing my blues away…


learning new songs…
holding fast to old ones…


I had just finished a concert to myself lol…
when I heard a soft hello…


Then I looked… and there —
at my window —

was the beautiful face
that belonged to the voice…


She lived in the neighborhood…
I didn’t know her…


With my guitar still in my hands…
we talked — through the screen —


She was kind… honest…
open…


She told me that for a month…
she would pass by my window…


hoping I would be there…
singing…
playing…


She told me how much she looked forward to it…
how the music helped her…
because she was dealing with much in her life…

She said she would lean against my building…
beside my window…
just out of sight…


listen for a while…
breathe in deep…


she said my feelings —
that I was giving away in those songs —
she recognized them…
as her own…

She said she’d get lost in my songs…
forget things…
for a little while…


I’ve never had a better compliment…


So I told her…


my window… was her window…
my song… was her song…


and she was welcome… anytime…

`’.°~

…….<~|🜔|~>→🪟→♪♪~…….<~|*|~>→|[]|→~~~♪~ `.°~ @’~~~ that’s what she said…

While writing this I listened to the album Kerosene Hat by Cracker… from 1993…

She was definitely… a hidden gem… from the b-side… 😎`’.,

© Bryan H. 2025 — All Rights Reserved

`’.,°~

Little Grown-Ups…

my life as a Gen X kid…

This song has the “F” word in it… only once… in one line… so you may not want to listen… if it may offend you… 👇

I was born in September of  73`… a Gen X kid…
when I look back now… I realize things…


Yeah maybe I was doing stuff early on that probably could have waited until I was an adult…


but life was different back then…


the world was wider… lighter… rawer… simpler… all at once…


And us kids…


we were all little grown-ups…

From the time I was about eight until I was fourteen…


life couldn’t have been much better…


I grew up in a fairly large community of side by side houses… side by side families…
where everybody knew everybody…
neighbors didn’t just nod — they shared life…
they borrowed sugar…
they brought each other meals…
they sat in yards and talked about real things…
hearts… stories… struggles… faith… loss… laughter…


It wasn’t perfect —
but man… it was real…

My great-grandfather lived with us in those days…


he was one of a kind…


old as dirt… tougher than leather… stubborn as wet cement…


he had lived much…
And he never ran out of stories…


He’d sit outside every day… in this beat up old folding chair…


And half the time.. I’d pull another chair beside him… and just listen…


He was a war veteran — A Purple Heart… other medals he earned through blood and grit…


Infantry…
France…
WW2…


he’d tell me stories of laughing under fire… marching… waiting… freezing… fighting… barely surviving…


And I’d pepper him with a thousand questions… because I couldn’t get enough…

Later.. I found out from my grandmother…
that he had taken many lives in battle…
those stories… he never told…
those belonged to him… and God alone…


What I did see…
was a man who had walked through hell…


And somehow came back kinder…
tougher…


And still able to laugh a little…
And love a lot…


And without making speeches…
without preaching a word…


he was shaping the boy sitting beside him…

In those days…
my parents worked…


so most times I had to fend for myself…


I had a house key… freedom… responsibility…


but there were rules…


Do the right thing when nobody is watching…


Be  about character…
Be about integrity…

Be about it…

Be a decent human being…


And oh yeah…
be home by dark…

On the edge of our community…
the world exploded into a massive forest
deep woods stretching for miles…
thousands of acres…
trees… creeks… hidden lakes… trails… wildlife…


a giant playground for kids who hadn’t yet learned to be afraid of living…


I spent countless days exploring those woods…


fishing…
riding dirt bikes…
shooting guns…


no supervision… no phones… just trust…


Sometimes on Saturdays I’d wake up before the sun…
pack myself a sack lunch and some drinks…
grab my fishing poles and tackle box…
strap it all to the back of my dirt bike…
And disappear into the woods…

All… day… long…


Sometimes friends came along…
sometimes it was just me and the world —
And honestly… those were some of the best days…


Many mornings my great-grandfather would stop me before I left…
hand me his old .22 pistol in a worn leather holster…
And tell me to take it “for protection”…
because us kids needed guns back then haha…
we learned early… how to treat and respect a firearm…
it was a great privilege… responsibility… And it was ours…

I’d strap it to my waist like a cowboy…
fire up that dirt bike…
And ride off into the blue…


Freedom…
Adventure…
Responsibility…
Trust…

A childhood that felt like life training…


And I am grateful… deeply grateful…


Those years shaped me…
they toughened me…
they softened me…
they taught me courage… solitude… resourcefulness… respect… curiosity… wonder… independence…

I didn’t know it then…


but those were Holy days…


And I am thankful I grew up when I did…


in a world… full… of little grown-ups…

`’x.~¡-^;‐

Also… my great-grandfather’s middle name and mine… are the same… Loia… pronounced Loy like Joy…

I forgot to mention my dog… Buck… he was there too… he didn’t live inside a fence… he never knew a leash… he was free to roam… just like me… he followed me everywhere… he loved to swim… while I fished…

I’m the blood on your guitar… I’m that wave You caught back in 1975…

© Bryan H. 2025 — All Rights Reserved

`’.,°~

Slowpoke Rodriguez… Hidden gem…

What’s your favorite cartoon?

Sometimes my life feels like an effin cartoon… other than that.. I don’t really have a favorite one… there are so many great ones though… but today I’m reminded of Slowpoke Rodriguez… definitely.. a hidden gem… slow moving… sharp minded… bad#ss and funny… I wouldn’t eff with him if I were you… he’ll eff you up…!

(Don’t effin mind me… I’m just experimenting with new ways to curse as a Christian… without effin upsetting folks…😁)

“” This is no place for a country mouse… it’s too dangerous…! “” 💯