John Delach

John Delach

January 2026

Oh my, my; it is Wednesday, January 7^th and here we go again, on our way to meet our new dog, number eleven in our personal pack of very best friends.

It all started with Woofie, a spaniel mix who we picked out of a liter at Al Mazer’s Puppy Land in Flushing that cost us $19.95. Woofie joined us less than a month after we married in 1967. More than ten years later, we lost her and next came our Golden Retrievers starting with Harry followed by Fred, Bubba, Jumbo and Maggie. We did rescue Buster before we added our last Golden, Max. Tessie, a retired Yellow Lab seeing eye dog joined us when she was eight and became Max’s partner. Next, Molly, a Lab mix who was eight when she came to live with us and who we lost earlier, this January.

Our new girl is a rescue whose name is Princess. She is six-years old, perfect for two octogenarian dog lovers who don’t need a puppy for obvious reasons. We picked her up at Hound’s Town, a kennel in Massapequa, about 45 minutes from our home.

Here is how the rescue organization, New York Safe Haven Animal Rescue described her rescue in their bulletin:

“Princess ended up in the town shelter in the fall of 2025 after being found on the streets. She waited on a month-long ‘stray-hold’ before being released to our organization. She went to boarding since no one wanted to foster her. That’s where she’s been up until Wednesday when she was adopted!”

There were three young women working in Hound’s Town when we arrived and they all showed how much they carried for our new girl. They helped to put her in the second row of our Palisade and gave us her bed. Their affection for her was sweet and I’m sure tears flowed after we left.

I drove and Mary Ann sat with her, but Princess remained completely upset for the ride back to our place. She shook, hyper-ventilated and carried on just short of throwing up until we arrived home.

To calm her, Mary Ann let her roam freely in our back yard that she soon became her safe space.

Our game plan was to have her sleep in the crate we used when Max and Molly were both new to us. I re-assembled it and Mary Ann and I set it up in our little used dining room. Princess/Buddie wanted no part of it so we decided to set up her bed in our bedroom and see how she did. I had a feeling Princess-Buddie knew what we were doing and she didn’t want to cause problems her first night. She could not have been a better dog that night. She stayed in her dog bed the entire time and patiently waited for Mary Ann to take her outside the next morning to relieve herself.

So much for the crate. I disassembled it and returned it to our garage.

The next few days became a learning experience for the three of us. Mary Ann was very pleased with their walks and Buddie began to start showing us her habits. One is her need to be a window cop who stands in front of the bow window in our living room so that she can let loose and bark loudly at passing neighbors, delivery men and women, utility workers, garbage men and especially people walking their dogs letting them know that they’re invading her space.

Buddie also found an indoor safe space, my bed. So far, it has become her day bed, but she does return it to me at night and goes to her own dog bed, so far. Correction, since I wrote that, she has tried to join me on my bed during the night twice. Both times, we directed her back to her bed where she returned.

We have now completed three weeks together. She is a great dog and our love for her is absolute. Life together will be good and, hopefully, long, but we are totally aware that we have a long way to go to complete our compatibility.

Mary Ann has already made excellent progress with Buddie on applying her needed discipline on their walks and we have just begun training her to want to ride in our cars. Granted, we have a long way to go. Mary Ann found a special treat that Buddie loves, hot dogs cut into small slices. Mary Ann started Buddie’s car training by bringing her outside on a leash and harness. She then opened the door to the back seat and sat down. Buddie remained in the driveway.

Mary Ann offered her a treat and Buddie lifted her front paws into the Palisade. After a couple of tries, Buddie jumped into the back seat and after a couple of reptations, Mary Ann started the engine. Buddie remained calm and on January 21, I got into the driver’s seat, started our vehicle before she freely entered the back seat. After a couple of minutes, I put the vehicle into gear and we road around the block as Buddie remained calm. Three days later, we took her for a twenty-minute drive around town. She did shake a bit, but there wasn’t any hyper-ventilating. We are definitely making progress as we continue to get to know each other.   

And we know that there are two things for certain, Buddie has become our family dog and our house is her forever home.  

(A Selection of My Giants Road Games: 1991 to 2025)

Super Bowl XXV: January 27, 1991

The Giants beat the San Francisco 49ers 15-13 on a last-minute field goal kicked by Matt Bahr on January 21, one week before Super Bowl XXV would be played in Tampa, Florida.

My phone rang minutes after the game ended. The caller was Steve, my tailgate buddy. “John, Thomas Cook, the travel people screwed up. They only offered super bowl tickets to 49er fans and now they can only sell them to Giants fans. My cousin, Mike, is at Giants Stadium where Cook is selling a package. Mike, my brother, Jim, and I are going; do you want in?”

After a moment’s hesitation, I replied, “Hell, yes!”

And so, it goes. Because the Gulf War was underway, I couldn’t join my mates for the chartered flight scheduled on Thursday so I flew down alone on Saturday. Steve, James and Mike met me at the Tampa Airport. “John, “ Steve explained, “we are on our way to downtown Tampa to confront Chris, Mad Dog Russo who predicted the Bills will destroy our Giants.”

“Why not,” I replied. We actually entered the department store where Mad Dog had been broadcasting. Sure enough, there he was on a down escalator while we were on an up escalator. He was getting away, but at least we could bombard him with insults as he passed us by. Russo was content enough to wave and smile.

We had a good dinner on Saturday night. Tampa had its share of both Giants and Bills fans. Knowing who was the enemy was difficult as both teams’ colors were blue, red and white. The only difference was the Bills leaned more toward red and the Giants to blue so we both behaved.

On Sunday, the four of us went to “The Big Sombrero” Stadium to watch Big Blue play the Buffalo Bills. It was a very close game and Bill Belicheck, our defensive coordinator kept it that way by wrecking the Bills passing machine.

Our tickets were in the end zone and I like to tell people that for 58 and ½ minutes we had the worst seats in the stadium but, for the last one minute and thirty seconds the best because we were behind Scott Norwood when he attempted to kick the winning field goal for the Bills.

As soon as the ball left his foot, we knew it was going wide right like a shanked golf ball.

Giants 20, Bills 19. Big Blue were Super Bowl champions for the second time!

Giants at the Chicago Bears: September 15, 1991

The Bears and the Giants were back-to-back Super Bowl Champions, the Bears in 1985 and the Giants in 1986. A group of Bear fans from our Chicago office invited me to attend a game between our teams scheduled to be played at Soldier’s Field on September 15, 1991. They offered me two tickets and I invited my son, Michael, to join me.

Michael was attending college at New England College in Hennicker, NH that the school advertised as the only Hennicker on earth. He had a hand-me-down GMC Jimmy that he drove to Logan Airport, I flew out of LaGuardia and we met in O’Hare.

My Chicago buddies recommended Gene & Georgetti, Chicago’s oldest steakhouse for dinner and we finished the night at Ditka’s named after the Bears Super Bowl head coach.

On Sunday, Mike and I agreed to underplay our Giant’s affiliation and we only wore caps that acknowledged the team we were rooting for. One of the Chicago guys picked us up and we joined their tailgate in the parking lot on a warm, sunny day. Our hosts were three of my Chicago buddies all who were taller than me, Gary Gatewood, Jim Hagelow and Reuben Minor.

A good time and a good tailgate, but the Bears won the game, 20 to 17. Big Blue had their chances but Carl Banks dropped an interception that could have won the game.

When the game ended, a young woman standing behind my 6’ 6” son began to scream into his face: “You suck, the Giants suck and New York sucks!”

Michael ignored her and turned toward the young man who was with her: “If you don’t get her out of here right now, I’m going to punch you in your face!”

Her boyfriend promptly removed her.

(To be continued)

Originally published in April 2015

Concrete Chuck Bednarik died in March of 2015 at 89. The son of Slovenian immigrants and a native of Bethlehem, PA, he was as hard-nosed, rugged and durable as any football player who has ever played in the NFL. For most of his 14-year NFL career that began in 1949, he played both ways: center on offense and middle guard / linebacker on defense. His two-way career lasted until the end of the 1960 season. He was the last “sixty-minute man” in the league and the essence of Philadelphia Eagles football.

Bednarik is remembered most by Giants fans by the blind-side hit he delivered to an unsuspecting Frank Gifford that knocked the New York Giants premier running back into the middle of the following week and out of football for the 1961 season. Bethlehem, PA was Concrete Chuck Bednarik and Concrete Chuck Bednarik was Mister Bethlehem.

The city was also home and headquarters to a steel mill owned and operated by the company bearing its name. Now gone, the firm was once enormous, America’s second largest steel producer with national operations that included shipyards in Quincy, Mass, New York City, Philadelphia and Baltimore. These yards had their own fleets of enough workboats to warrant decent size insurance policies. For years, Bethlehem’s insurance manager, a chap named, Geoffrey Jones remained loyal to a Manhattan-based competitor of mine, Johnson & Higgins. But Geoffrey was a star struck Anglophile who loved his twice-yearly visits to London where he met with J&H’s English partner firm, Willis Faber. The object of his admiration was their broker to Lloyds, Neil Bartlett.

All went well until insurance broking mergers upset Mr. Jones’ world. When Willis merged with a New York firm, Caroon & Black, J&H cut ties with them and established their own London office. Geoffrey was livid and, in his fury, put his program out to bid. Requests for proposals were sent to major brokers including my firm’s Philadelphia office. Realizing their lack of marine expertise, I was asked to participate in drafting our bid and making our oral presentation.

When the dates were being set for the presentations in Bethlehem, I asked my counterpart in Philadelphia, Tom Briggs, “Who are we taking to the presentation and who will our competitors be?”

Tom replied, “Just you and me. Willis is sending Neil Bartlett and some woman from their New York office; I think she goes by Ms. M.G. Wilson. J&H is sending two Brits from London, Steven Best and Nigel Wykcoff.”

“Tom, you got to be kidding me,” I asked incredulously?

“Why, what’s wrong John?”

“Tom,” I replied, “Here’s what’s going to happen when we go out to Bethlehem. Jones is going to look us over and this is what he’s going to say to you, ‘Mr. Briggs, what I can’t understand is that J&H has brought me two chaps from London, Mr. Best and Mr. Wyckoff and Willis brought over Mr. Bartlett, but all you brought to me is this fellow, Delach from New York. Am I missing something?’

“And Tom, I plan to take you off the hot seat answer this question, and do you know what I am going to say to him?”

Tom shook his head, no.

“I am going to look Jones right in the eye and say to him loud and clear, “How about them Eagles!”

It so happened, our own Brit, William Hayes was visiting our office. Hayes was a liability insurance man who knew nothing about marine! Regardless, I had a good feeling about William’s salesmanship so drafted him to be our spokesman. Driving out on I-78 across New Jersey in my GMC truck, I briefed Hayes, “William, you will front our presentation and Tom and I will handle the details.

Geoffrey fell in love with William so much so that when we had a post-presentation lunch in an old inn, I thought I’d have to arrange a room for the two of them.

As absurd as it was, we won the bid leaving me with a fondness for Bethlehem, PA and Concrete Chuck to this day.

Unfortunately, Bethlehem went out of business less than three months later and so it goes.

RIP Mr. Bednarik, RIP Bethlehem Steel.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Almost every year from 1990 until 2019, I have traveled to different cities across America to watch a New York Football Giants road game including three Super Bowls, SB XXV, XXXV and XLII. This included a trip in October 2009 with my son, Michael, and our friends, Dave Brackett and his son, Tim to Kansas City to see our beloved Giants play the Kansas City Chiefs.  Our regular driver, Mohamed, picked-up Michael and me first at 9 a.m. Michael had driven from his home in Fairfield, CT early enough so he arrived in Port Washington with time for a buzz cut at a local barber before meeting me at our house. Mohamed next drove his Navigator to the Brackett residence and from there we made good time from Port Washington to LaGuardia arriving in less than thirty minutes.

Michael decided to check his bag while the three of us chose carry-on letting the airline staff to decide whether to let us store them on board or gate-check them. Back then, this meant we all had to report to the Mid-West Airlines counter, Mike, to check his bag and obtain his seat assignment and the rest of us for seat assignments, only. We were stuck on a small regional jet and our bags were eventually gate checked.

The line was reasonable and as I looked around. I happened to notice two men standing behind us. One, an older fellow, was dressed in a suit and tie, but it was the other chap who caught my attention. He was obviously a member of the clergy, dressed in a black suit with a Roman collar and a rather big cross hanging on his chest. All I needed was one look at his size and his youngish, round, familiar face before I realized who he was. My “bad boy” streak of humor turned on and I asked my son, “How would you like to meet the New York Diocese new cardinal?”

“Of course I would, but, seriously, Pop, please tell me you’re not going to make a scene?”

“Oy vey,” I thought to myself, “My son knows my weird sense of humor.” Still, I persisted and I asked the man behind me, “Are you our new cardinal?”

He briefly hesitated, then replied, “I’m the new archbishop,  Timothy Dolan.”

“Of course”, I thought, but I replied, “I thought the extra star came with your new command.”

His security companion interjected, “He soon will be.” But the archbishop corrected him and replied, “That’s the army, I work for the Church.”

His Excellency was as charming in person that led to a delightful conversation as we continued to wait on line. He was on his way to a charity dinner in Milwaukee fulfilling a commitment from his previous diocese. We talked about the Giants’ Kickoff Luncheon (he did attend the 2009 edition) and how his predecessor, Cardinal Egan pronounced the coaches name Coughlin instead of “Coflin”, the way the coach pronounced his own name. The archbishop finally had enough with my impertinence. He looked at me and said, “Be careful.”

I replied, “You sound just like my wife.”

Dave said, “Good luck with that cardinal thing.” eliciting, “Frankly, I’d rather the Cardinals won the World Series.”

We were all that much younger back in 2009. Dolan was made a cardinal in 2012. He had a successful tenure while enjoying all that goes on in the Big Apple and his stature. However, he had to pay the price for reaching 75 in the spring of 2025 necessitating his offer to Pope Francis to resign being the Archbishop of the New York Arch Diocese. 

Pope Francis died that fall and his successor, Pope Leo XIV decided to replace Dolan with Bishop Ronald Hicks, bishop of Joliet, Illinois to be effective February of 2026.

The Catholic Church is hardly exempt from politics, and so it goes. I choose not to speculate why Pope Leo made this decision.

I only wish Cardinal Dolan a grand and long retirement and his Cardinals, a World Series win.