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By MARTIN DAVIS
Contributing Columnist

Yes, high school baseball is just a game—but baseball also is life.

In our most troubled days, it’s a game that defines who we are and transforms both players and their communities forever. That certainly was true of the relationship between Michael Groves—head baseball coach at Monterey High School and a member of the California Baseball Coaches Association Hall of Fame—and a once-in-a-lifetime student-athlete, Frankie Sollecito. Here is the story of the tragedy that united them—and how that event continues to shape new generations three decades later.

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On an April afternoon in 1988 during a regular-season game against Bellarmine College Prep, Frank “Frankie” Sollecito Jr. was struggling. Something he didn’t often do.

At 6’5” and 230 pounds, Sollecito was the type of athlete who played a level or two above his peers. That talent had been recognized and rewarded by UCLA and Oklahoma—powerhouse football programs that wanted him to play tight end. He was also a straight-A student, and a “character,” whose humor and wisdom were beyond his years.

Sollecito, however, had other ideas. He had accepted a baseball scholarship and would enroll in the fall at UC Berkeley—two hours up the California coast from his home in Monterey.

None of that was on his mind, however, that day. Coming off the mound in the 5^th inning, Frankie knew he was in trouble.

“Coach,” Sollecito said to Michael Groves, “I’m exhausted.”

Groves told him to sit; someone else could close out the game.

“No,” Sollectio said. He was going to finish that tight game that ended in a Monterey one-run loss.  That night Groves called the young man’s parents, only to discover that they, too, had concerns. Frankie had recently had a dental procedure that was not healing properly.

The next day at practice, Groves saw Sollecito just sitting in the outfield. Again, he was complaining of exhaustion.

They sent him straight to the hospital. Later that evening, test results showed that Frankie Sollecito Jr., at 18 years of age, had leukemia.

The next month for Frankie was a gauntlet of hospital stays and chemotherapy.

His teammates at Monterey High School kept playing. And Coach Groves kept doing what he always does—giving of himself. Every afternoon, he showed up at the school’s downtown baseball field. Oftentimes he arrived in a suit, coming from a full day’s work running the successful land-use planning firm he founded in 1978. And in the evenings, he would often visit Frankie in the hospital.

In May, the team was in the California Interscholastic Federation (CIF) section championship play-offs. Frankie was out of the hospital the week the playoffs began, down nearly 100 pounds from his weight just a month before.

He was there on the bench in street clothes at Salinas Municipal Stadium for the Toreadores’ first round playoff game against Los Gatos. Monterey won 8-3, earning it the right to play the next playoff round at San Jose Municipal Stadium several days later.

However, that is not what was important in the moment. As the team and coach removed equipment from the dugout after the first round victory, Frankie remained seated in street clothes at the far end of the dugout, alone.

As Groves walked back through the dugout, he found Frankie still there, alone and crying.

Groves sat next to him, then stood and held him as he cried, and listened as Frankie whispered, “I can’t do this, Coach. I can’t come to the game and not play.”

But neither could he not be there for his team.

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The Game

The second round CIF Championship game against St. Francis High School was tight through the first four innings. Sollecito, still in his street clothes, could do nothing but watch as the Toreadores pitcher walked the first batter of the 5^th inning.

“I don’t know what came over me at that moment,” Groves says. “I turned to Frankie and said, ‘let’s get you loosened up so you can play.’ ”

Sollecito looked up and said, “Coach, I don’t have a uniform.”

Groves began unbuttoning his jersey. “You do now.”  Inwardly, he had a feeling that this could be Frankie’s last time playing ball.

As Frankie dressed in the Toreadores’ green and gold colors, then made his way to the bullpen to loosen up, the team’s pitcher continued to struggle. He loaded the bases with no one out. Groves made the call to the bullpen.

Over the loudspeaker the announcer’s call came: Frank Sollecito Jr. would be taking the mound for Monterey.

Groves remembers Frankie taking the hill. Word had gotten out about his condition. The MHS fans stood and cheered, but the crowd behind St. Francis was standing and cheering with equal fervor.

Frankie had been severely weakened by a combination chemotherapy-and-bone-marrow-transplant and other treatments. He’d lost considerable velocity on his pitches. Even tougher, he had not thrown competitively since the game against Bellarmine more than a month earlier when he was reaching 92 mph on his fastball—an exceptional velocity for a high school pitcher.

No matter. Frankie forced two quick outs with a ground ball and an infield pop-up, then struck out the last batter. He got out of the inning without giving up a run. Seasoned baseball fans on both sides, many parents, literally erupted over the performance, tears rolling down cheeks, unconcerned with trivial matters such as final scores.

Lacking the strength to pitch the sixth or seventh inning, Groves put him at first base.

It was the last time Frankie Sollecito Jr. would play a high school baseball game.

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A Passing

Sollecito would bravely battle leukemia for two years. Through it all, he never lost his sense of humor. Still today, those who knew him talk about the funny impersonations that he would do to lift others’ spirits, including the one of Coach Groves, with wild gesticulations loosely mirroring the signs he’d give from his coaching post on the third-base line.

On October 7, 1990—Groves’ birthday—leukemia finally took Frankie’s life. What leukemia didn’t take, however, was Frankie’s spirit.

“I went to his funeral,” Groves recalls. What happened next has never left him. “As I was driving home, he literally appeared in the car with me. It wasn’t a physical presence, but an energy presence.”

Groves swerved off the road, stopped the car, and in those few moments felt Frankie letting him know that “it was going to be ok.”

As a coach, Groves has always stressed the importance of gratitude to his players. He was determined that the joy each moment Frankie had playing would not be lost on future teams.

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The Transformation

Today, Frankie’s presence is everywhere at Monterey High School ballpark. The field is named in his honor, and a bronze statue of Sollecito stands smiling and holding his glove to his heart, greeting fans upon entry.

Every season, wristbands bearing Frankie’s number, 16, are given to the players. One “special” player, who shares Frankie’s character traits, is selected each year to wear the number 16. In addition, a college scholarship bearing Frankie’s name is given each year. Before each game, the team walks past the stands to the statue of Frankie, where they express gratitude, and pray for the FOM (frame of mind) that will pave the way for a successful outing.

The physical reminders, however, don’t always embody an individual’s spirit over time. As students graduated, and younger ones moved in, the spirit of Sollecito began to lose weight with players.

Great stories need to be told and retold over the generations.

For Groves, it all came to a head in 2005. That year, the team had two dominant left-handers and looked to make another run for the CIF sectional championship.

In-fighting had become a problem during this particular year. Finally, with about 8 games to go in the regular season and the Toreadores mired in 4^th place, Groves had seen enough. Following a bitter home loss, he ordered the boys to meet him at the ballpark the next day in their tennis shoes. “Don’t bother bringing your baseball cleats.”

Traditionally, the players are running through their warmup routines as Groves arrives and changes into his uniform. When he showed up the following day, no one had tennis shoes on.

Groves is a genial man who rarely lets people see him in a moment of anger. This day, however, he could not hide his frustration. He ordered the boys to take off their cleats, put on their tennis shoes, and together they went on a run.

“We ran around the ballpark and the surrounding El Estero Lake,” Groves says. “Then I ran them into the cemetery across the street from the ballpark and straight to Frankie’s gravesite. I had forgotten that they’re young kids and don’t know the story.

“I told them, ‘Frankie believed it was a privilege to put on an MHS uniform. As long you’re focused on arguing with each other and not playing for each other, you will not be successful.’ After this, I asked the team to make a commitment to each other, and to have gratitude to be able to play this great game in every moment that you are alive, like Frankie did.”

The team went on to win 8 straight league games and a league title, moved on to the CIF sectional play-offs winning four straight championship games, and ultimately the section title. (There is no State championship in California, only sectional championships, owing to the size of the state.) This dynamic team won 12 consecutive games after that run to visit Frankie’s gravesite.

“Each player who wears the MHS green and gold,” says Groves, “learns what Frankie taught his teammates. Wearing that uniform is a privilege and not to be taken lightly. That 2005 season was all inspired by how Frank Sollecito both lived and died.”

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A Final Thought

The bond between Groves and Frankie Sollecito has shaped the Monterey baseball community for 30 years now. There is much more to the story, however.

As I was finishing this column, I had a phone conversation with Frankie’s parents. They wanted to be sure that people know that Groves’ compassion and support was about so much more than Frankie.

For the two years that Frankie was in treatment at Stanford University Hospital and others, his younger brother, Gabe, had to face life with his mother gone much of the time.

Two years younger than Frankie, Gabe was a remarkable athlete in his own right. He had a hard time getting out from under his brother’s shadow, however.

His mother remembers Gabe pitching a no-hitter while Frankie was in the hospital, and the local paper noting the achievement, then talking mostly about his brother, Frankie. It tore at his mother’s heart. Michael was there to help him through those difficult years.

Gabe would go on to play at UCLA, and then spend ten years in the minor leagues, rising to AAA—the level just below the majors. He never got the call to play in “The Show,” as the major leagues is referred to by those who play the game.

Now back in Monterey, Gabe is again with Michael Groves—this time as an assistant coach on the baseball team.

This all reflects the way Groves coaches baseball, and teaches his players and everyone he meets, about life.

At the end of the day, we are here for each other.

Every day we have, matters.

“The bottom line,” Groves says, “is this: If you knew it was your last day to play ball, how would you show up?”

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Care to read more?

Three of our writers, each year, tell fresh stories about the spiritual side of baseball: Martin Davis, Benjamin Pratt and Rodney Curtis.

MARTIN DAVIS—

Davis has written a number of very popular columns over the years about the inspiration that millions of men and women have found through sports. In fact, right now, Martin is working on an entire book of stories specifically focused on high school coaches nationwide—men and women, black and white, famous and unsung heroes alike. This story from Monterey, California, is one of those moving stories he has discovered in his year of virtually crisscrossing America, looking for such transcendent true stories. Want to learn more? Please read this column about Davis’s efforts to launch his new book.

BENJAMIN PRATT—

Author and columnist Benjamin Pratt has written many stories about baseball. Among his most popular:

• Generation to generation, pitching baseballs and values
• Fields of Dreams: In October, our ‘American Odyssey’ calls us home

He also has published several books. Take a look at his Amazon author page.

RODNEY CURTIS—

Author, columnist and photographer Rodney Curtis shares his images and stories in a special section of our ReadTheSpirit magazine.

He also is the author of the baseball-themed Hope’s Diamond: Everything Changes When Hope Comes to Town.

SHARING A POT OF SUMMER SOUP ACROSS 4,300 MILES

RECONNECTING IN A SEASON OF SEPARATION—Can something as simple as a pot of soup help us to reconnect, even the midst of this global pandemic? Two regular contributors to this online magazine are Elisa Di Bendetto and Martin Davis—who are physically separated by 4,300 miles. She is based in Italy; he’s near Washington D.C. They became friends through the International Association of Religion Journalists and have visited in person occasionally over the years. As spring turns to summer, they both were reminded via email and social media that their thoughts were turning toward their mutual love of cooking with fresh ingredients, especially the first crop of summer vegetables. Today they’re coming together to talk about an Italian classic—minestrone.

Elisa: As a child, I would eat anything except minestrone. Lots of children considered it a type of punishment, sort of like being forced to eat cauliflower. It was only later on that I started enjoying that traditional, light and healthy dish that my mother used to cook year-round, creating the perfect mix of fresh vegetables from our grandma’s vegetable garden.

Marty: Where I grew up in the American South, I didn’t like minestrone, either. Of course, where I grew up, the only minestrone I knew came from a can in the soup aisle. It was mushy and generally disgusting. Even the adults didn’t like it.

My mom taught be to cook when I was little. After I left home, I got interested in Italian cooking. That’s where I first discovered what minestrone truly was all about. And when you visited our home and began talking with me about it, I really got into it.

Elisa: As an Italian with friends and colleagues based in all continents, I am frequently asked for advice about—and the “secret ingredients” of—many popular Italian dishes: pasta, piazza, lasagne and so on. But, never before had I been asked about minestrone, one of the most popular foods in Italian peasant cuisine.

What many people don’t understand about minestrone, and something that you, Marty, had figured out, is that it’s a simple dish—but it’s an art form, too. While some foods and dishes are typical of a specific region or area, you can find minestrone anywhere in Italy. That means you will see a huge variety of recipes for the same meal, which is usually served as a first course. Be ready to experience some differences, according to the region and the season. They can come both in the ingredients—with broken spaghetti or soup pasta, and even rice or legumes and other cereals added in the pot—and in the preparation—vegetables usually are diced or cut into pieces, but sometimes they are smashed before serving.

Marty: The unpredictability of minestrone is what appeals to me, Elisa. While I have a few core ingredients that I use in every pot, the other vegetables that I add depend on the season. Spring is heavy on different onions, as well as potatoes and carrots and snow peas.

In the summer I dress up my pots with fresh squashes, corns, okra and field peas. In the fall, it’s October beans and cabbages, plus a wide range of root vegetables, that make their way into my pot. Honestly, whatever is fresh and looks good at the Farmer’s Market every Saturday is what I’ll use.

Elisa: My mother explains it this way, “We always begin by making a soffritto (base flavor for countless classic dishes) with onion, carrot and celery, which are the three base vegetables for many Italian dishes.” My mother still remembers her grandmother making minestrone. “I remember that her recipe always included beans, no matter the time of the year. Every family, even the poorest ones, would grow beans in their garden. Besides that, beans made it filling and nourishing.”

Nowadays, we add some fancy foods, such as croutons. In the past, they used to add stale bread in it. In this way, they would not waste any food, as my mother recalls: “In farms, when they butchered pork, they used to add its bones in the minestrone.” Today, cut up pancetta or pre-cooked pork rind (cotenne), which are frequently used to add flavor.

Marty: I didn’t know that you could add meat or bone marrow! As I noted above, we didn’t make minestrone growing up, but we did make beef vegetable soup, usually in the fall. I wonder if there is a connection between that and minestrone?

Elisa: Perhaps. You can basically use anything in this soup, and that’s why in the Italian language we use the word minestrone to describe a messy, disorderly, set of different things.

Marty: Well, that’s what my Minestrone is—a messy disorderly set of different things that blend together over time to produce a simply amazing bouquet of flavors that’s pure joy to eat. I generally cook my pot for 6 hours or more at a very low heat.

Elisa: I’m surprised to learn that you usually cook it for over 6 hours. In Italy, it generally takes about 2 or maybe 3 hours to cook, depending on the vegetables you use.

Marty: I am a fan of slow-cooking. I cook many things that way. Even one of my favorite Low Country meals, Gumbo.

Elisa: Yes! I remember that that’s what you prepared for me when I visited you in the United States. Perhaps we should talk about that sometime?

Marty: Perhaps—but for now, let’s compare recipes.

Elisa’s Authentic Minestrone Soup

Ingredients

Extra-virgin olive oil

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 medium yellow onion, chopped

2 medium carrots, peeled and chopped

1-2 ribs celery, chopped

Water (you can also use vegetable stock)

2 medium tomatoes

Seasonal vegetables and leafy vegetables (greens) to taste (usually carrots, legumes, beans, peas, potatoes, zucchini, green beans, kale, Swiss chard). We never use vegetables with a very strong flavor, such as peppers, cauliflower, broccoli. They are not usually included in the recipe, nor do we use eggplant.

Cooking

Put oil in the bottom of a big pot and add onions (make sure it’s big enough to hold all your ingredients). Add onions first. Chop the carrots and then add them in the pot while you chop the celery. Add the celery and a pinch of salt. Let your ingredients rosolare (saute) without browning until everything is soft but not colored.

Cut your vegetables—except potatoes!—into small pieces and strips and add them into the pot, one by one, so that they can absorb the flavor of the ingredients you have added previously.

Add abundant water to cover, bring to a boil and then to a gentle simmer. Allow simmering for about 1,5 hours and if it’s getting too thick, add some water to loosen. Add the potatoes later, so they can cook through before serving time. When all the vegetables are soft (almost meltingly soft), mash the potatoes and stir.

Serve

You can serve it hot, warm or room temperature. It tastes even better the next day.

To provide an extra flavor to your minestrone you can add some extra-virgin olive oil, croutons or grated parmesan on top before serving. You can also cook some rice or pasta separately and add it to the pot at the very last.

 

Marty’s Minestrone

Ingredients

½ cup high-quality olive oil
3-4 garlic bulbs
Salt and pepper
Fresh herbs—Parsley, Basil, Thyme, Oregano. (If you don’t grow it, buy fresh sprigs)2 or 3 fresh tomatoes (any tomato will do – I like Roma, my wife prefers a medium-sized slicing tomato
Purple onion (with green stems)
Carrots
A wedge of high-quality Parmesan cheese
Beans (stay away from canned—use dry or fresh picked)
Cabbage
Peppers (I like Cubanelle, but any type will do)
Potatoes
Parsnips

Cooking

Add about 4 cups of water or vegetable stock to a pot. Quarter the tomatoes and drop them in. Then add the purple onion (onion and stems), carrots, and garlic. Bind all your herbs with some twine and drop them into the pot. Add the Olive Oil and a generous amount of salt and pepper. Cover, bring to a boil, then turn to medium heat. Let simmer for 1.5 hours, until the tomatoes begin to break apart. Remove the herbs.

Add the remaining vegetables in any amount that you desire. Bring the pot back up to a boil for 2-3 minutes, then reduce to the lowest heat possible. Add the wedge of Parmesan cheese, cover, and let cook another four hours.

If you like, cook some pasta separately.

Serve

Put the pasta in the bottom of a bowl. Using a ladle, cover the noodles with minestrone. Finish with fresh ground parmesan and Parsley. Serve with bread or grilled cheese sandwiches.

 

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“He looks up at me, and I look down at him. ‘This must be heaven,’ he says. ‘No. It’s Iowa…”
From Shoeless Joe by W.P. Kinsella

By MARTIN DAVIS
Contributing Columnist

I’ve recommended Shoeless Joe—the story of a man, a farm with a baseball field, and J.D. Salinger—to many a person who wants to know more about the hold baseball has on the imaginations of so many people. You may know the book better by the film it spawned, Field of Dreams.

None too few of these folks come back and tell me they hated the book—and the movie. The words they use to describe their feelings about both are easily summarized: “sentimental rubbish.”

I can understand. Hard-nosed fans like myself are prone to deluding ourselves into believing that baseball is more than a game; we can even be fooled into believing it’s an existential window into the human soul.

We’re used to hearing: “Rubbish. It’s a game. No more, no less.”

And yet—as I look for ways to make sense of life that no longer includes an institutional church, baseball helps.

‘A LITURGICAL RHYTHM’

There is a liturgical rhythm to the game. For me, there are no more poetic words in the English language than “Pitchers and catchers report.” The buzz begins in late January, as Spring Training camps prepare to welcome major league teams to their homes away from home in Florida and Arizona. By March, “Play ball!” is shouted in stadiums, and fans like me are tuning in as our favorite announcers dust off their home-run calls and bluster about the promising season ahead.

The thrill of spring baseball quickly gives way to the day-to-day grind of a 162-game season. Fans embrace this in many ways. Some make it their life, immersing themselves in statistics, box scores and chat rooms that can border on obsessive. But for most, as Washington Post sports writer Tom Boswell notes, baseball isn’t so all consuming. “I’ve always felt there was something in the day during the baseball season there wasn’t the rest of the year,” he said on Ken Burns’ epic PBS series Baseball.  “It’s not that you have to listen to the game, it’s that you could listen to it if you needed it.”

By fall, the baseball-loving world is united around the game’s jewels—the play-offs and World Series. As winter settles in, fans have both the highs and lows of the past season to sustain them, as they place it in context with the game’s 150-plus-year history.

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‘The Community of Baseball’

The community of baseball is itself a wonder. The sport can temper even hardened souls. Side by side on summer afternoons and evenings sit Republicans and Democrats; scientists and mystics; religious fundamentalists, atheists, and people of faith—united by an interest the game.

Trivial though it sounds, the bleachers at local little league fields and the reserved seats at major league ballparks create a sacred space in which peaceful, honest dialogue can occur. Most of the time, the changes this brings are relatively minor—the economist can honestly hear the plight of the worker, the Christian Fundamentalist can get to know the Muslim imam.

Sometimes, these baseball cathedrals are themselves the catalysts for cultural change. When Pee Wee Reese put his arm on Jackie Robinson’s shoulder in 1947, it cleared the ground for a more honest discussion about race relations.

And when Al Campanis stumbled on Nightline 40 years later, suggesting African-Americans weren’t managers because they weren’t smart enough, baseball again was the catalyst for a national discussion about the glass ceilings African-Americans face.

The game even has its sacred stories—grounded in both truth and myth. Babe Ruth’s called shot in the 1932 Series that may or may not have occurred. The incredible talent of Satchel Paige, whose precise numbers are lost to history. And the whispered prowess of Steve Dalkowski.

No—baseball is not a religion.

But there’s certainly a case to be made that the game has created a heaven right here on Earth. And for lots of people, that’s more than enough most of the time.

 

 

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Note from ReadTheSpirit Editor David Crumm—In 1455, Johannes Gutenberg set the stage for a global revolution by mass producing Bibles with moveable type. After his innovation spread across Europe, Martin Luther was poised to touch off the Reformation in 1517—a revolution fueled by books and pamphlets. Now, half a millennium later, Gutenberg’s little idea still is an amazing innovation!

You may be thinking: Aren’t e-books making print books obsolete? Nope! The June 2015 issue of the magazine from the Indepedent Book Publishers Association (IBPA) analyzes sales trends and says there are clear signs “that the explosive annual growth of e-book sales has stalled.” E-books now account for about 30 percent of books sold in the U.S., IBPA concludes. (NOTE: That’s one reason ReadTheSpirit Books publishes both in print and digital formats, ensuring that entire communities or small groups can enjoy each book.)

So, why is Gutenberg’s product still turning heads? It’s the genius of his innovation:

• Drop your e-reader in a pool or lake, this summer—and it’s toast! Your paperback? After an accidental dip, lay it out to dry and you’ll be fine!
• Are you interested in fast access for quick reading when you’ve got a spare moment? You can open your paper book quicker than you can fire up a Kindle.
• Want to share your reading experience? Just hand a book to a friend. But your e-book? Well …
  
• PLUS, writes veteran journalist and media consultant Martin Davis: Real ink-on-paper books may be even more powerful social networking tools than any e-edition. Enjoy Martin’s story …
  

A Real Book: Why it’s great for Social Reading

By MARTIN DAVIS

I lost my iPad last month.

The memory still haunts me. One minute it’s there—with my banking app, my games (yes, I enjoy Candy Crush), and, most important, my magazines, newspapers and books.

I was lost.

Reading on my iPad wasn’t solitary. It was social. I shared titles, passages, anecdotes and gallows humor with friends. We talked about books. We were a community of friends bound by a love of reading.

And now? Well, for a while I knew how the unfortunate Athenian felt back in the day when he was ostracized from the city by the drawing of lots. Like the Athenian cast from his friends, I could die or adjust.

Dying seemed a bit much, though my teenage son didn’t think so: “How do you get by,” he asked, “without a smart phone or tablet?”

I adjusted. I couldn’t afford to replace the iPad, so I went to Barnes and Noble and purchased an honest-to-god, paperback copy of the next book I had planned to read by Patrick Taylor—author of the Irish Country Doctor series—and threw it in my backpack.

The next morning, while standing in the slug line—the Washington, DC, area’s solution to commuting woes—I whipped out my new book and started reading. My fellow commuters were intrigued.

“What are you reading?” one lady asked.

“An Irish Doctor in War and at Peace,” I responded.

“I’ve been to Ireland,” she said. And we were off to the proverbial races.

We got in the same car for our hour-long ride north, and talked all the way up.

She had wanted to be a doctor, but couldn’t handle the math. Now she works at a nonprofit in DC in the healthcare industry. We talked about our families, our travels, our work. And we talked about Ireland.

The ride home in the evening was much the same. Different person—same result.

Maybe it was that particular book. Popular writer. Beautiful cover.

So I switched to an edition of The Homeric Hymns, a collection and commentary on obscure Greek poetry about the gods and mortals, written by my former college Greek professor. Surely this wouldn’t be a conversation starter.

But it was. A former Marine who’d spent time in Greece wanted to know more about the gods.

“I lived there for two years,” he said, “but never had time to delve into the rich history. What can you recommend?”

I don’t miss my iPad so much these days.

Sure, I’m not eternally “connected.” But I’ve become more connected over the past month with the people in my immediate community—those I live near and work with—than I have in several years.

I don’t have 500 people watching my every post on a daily basis, these days. But I seem to meet someone new most days because of the simple book that I hold in my hands. A little conversation starter. Something that says to folks, “talk with me.”

All around me, I see images of what I once was. One more of the nameless masses gliding fingers across glass screens to
access virtual worlds that, in day-to-day life, shut-out the people who are most physically immediate.

Sure, one day I’ll replace my iPad (I still love Candy Crush). But when out in public, I’ll reach for my conversation starter first.

Martin Davis is a journalist in Washington, DC. He also is a long-time media consultant , and a freelance writer who lives in Fredericksburg, Virginia.