Boombayey Podcast # 2

Welcome to the second episode of Boombayey Podcast  with Terry Foster. Joining Terry for this show is Ryan, E.Lund, and special guests Rhonda Moss, and Rico Beard.

Segment 1: Too hot for radio storytime with Terry.  Why are you not watching ESPN? Do  play by play crews add anything to the game?

Segment 2: Michigan and MSU seasons so far and where they’re headed.

Bonus segment: Mt. Rushmore of professional wrestling

Another podcast coming Thursday!




Featured post

Welcome to my new blog and pod cast

Hello again.

My name is Terry Foster and I am the guy that used to write for the news paper in Detroit and did sports talk radio.

My life was on a roll until I suffered a stroke last year and my life has changed. I blame myself for not monitoring my blood pressure better. A doctor has since told me that I may have been dealt a bad set of veins inside my brain and they were ticking time bombs ready to clog up.

I was lucky. The veins became sluggish, but not clogged. So I lived another day.

I am a new man and I want to share my thoughts with old friends in this blog and through podcasting. I will talk about my new life, my old life, Detroit sports, or whatever else crosses my mind. It will be personal at times. And I will rap on real life and real issues.

In other words I want to be a voice, no matter how small it may be now.

I also need your help. I want to pay the people helping me and donate to charities I’ve worked with.  Heart to Hart passes out food, blankets, clothing and personal items to the homeless while the Enchanted Barn saves and houses mistreated animals and has inner city kids come out and  learn to take care of them.

My pal Melissa runs the Enchanted Barn and needs our help.

I got involved with Heart to Hart after seeing people huddle near steam pipes on cold winter days after leaving Lion games at night. My heart sank seeing this.

Selfishly I still want to get my word out and entertain even though I am retired. And why not tryet to help those that help others?

I will continue my blog also. I plan to peck out a few words that I hope entertain you, and move you to action, tears or laughter. If you don’t care what I have to say I won’t be offended. Move on. Nothing to see here.

I will try to help you lose weight.

I will try to help you get healthy.

And I will do the impossible. I will try to get you to understand the Detroit Lions.

And I will eventually pick up a note pad and try to break a story or two. I need to talk to my league people first.

I hope you enjoy. I do believe there is room to praise me or rip me. Go ahead. We are friends.

I will not comment about Donald Trump because pro Trump and anti Trump people are like roaches. They never go away and they keep barking the same nonsense for weeks at a time.

How am I feeling since quitting radio? Good but not great. Doctors say I won’t fully recover until the fall. But I no longer get evening headaches and am not exhausted at the end of the day.

Thanks for dropping by. I hope you return again.




Featured post

The sports writer motto: No cheering in life

Sunday I stopped by the Buffalo Wild Wings downtown when a man with a long dark beard sat next to me along with his girl friend who wore a Philadelphia Eagles knit hat.

The Chicago Bears — Eagles game was about to start along with a parade of profanity and  screams across the restaurant from the man with the long dark beard. He is an Eagles fan and he visits this B Dubs every Sunday to root on his team.

He apologized first to me for the Lions not being his first love. And then his girlfriend apologized for what was about to come.

“I am a Lions fan too,” he said. “The only time I don’t root for the Lions is when they play the Eagles. I am from Philadelphia originally and moved here a few years ago.”

It did not matter to me that he doesn’t always root for the Lions. Neither do I.

Then the girlfriend apologized.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But its about to get loud in here and he cusses a lot. He can’t help it.”

Four letter words flew freely as he paced from bar stool to high top tables, talking to patrons but mostly talking to himself and the Eagle players performing hundreds of miles away.

It was as if life depended on every play.

“Come in bud,” he screamed. “You have to make that fucking play.”

I’m sure you’ve been Eagles guy rooting on your favorite team. Maybe you are Red Wings guy. Tigers guy or heavens forbid Lions guy.

I missed out on that because of my chosen profession of being a sports writer.  I try to understand but I don’t get it when some folks allow a Lions loss to ruin their week.

There is no cheering in the press box. And often there is no cheering in real life. You can spot the sports writer in the stands because he or she watches games like a Broadway play. There is no emotion and sometimes you might get polite applause following a good play by either team.

We are rabid about sports, but not rabid by sports teams. Sports writers lose their hair naturally. They don’t pull it out during games like many fans.

I’m not sure if we are to be praised or pitied because of that.


Riding the storm out

fallen treesOver the weekend one, final small branch fell near the driveway of our home.

That’s OK because I was able to move it out the way in short time. The last time branches fell it took nearly two weeks to clean up. Our neighborhood was the victim of a small but powerful storm that uprooted trees and fired very large branches at our house causing roof damage that still needs to be repaired.

I missed the storm. It only lasted about 60 seconds, but it was a dandy. I was reading in the basement when my wife Abs and son Brandon began to shout excitedly that “trees were falling all over the place.”

I of course told them they overexaggerated things, that no trees were falling. Then the house shook violently and I decided to see what was going on.

They were right. Trees were falling. We were lucky. The small but violent storm simply bent trees in half on our property causing branches to break, splinter and fall. I took a walk around the neighborhood and saw trees pulled from the ground. Three trees leaned against a neighbors house. One tree lay across a street near us.

And one poor woman surveyed her house trying to figure out how she was going to remove the five trees from her house. One poor guy had a branch pierce his roof and fall on his favorite easy chair. Thankfully he was not sitting in it at the time.

I tell people who live in Detroit, Ferndale and Royal Oak about the big storm and they look at me as if I am wearing clown pants.

“What storm,” they say. “Are you sure?”

This storm didn’t even hit every neighborhood within a mile of ours. It was like a small wild cat that hit some places and skipped over others. One man claimed he saw a small horizontal tornado. Everybody just laughed at him.

A more believable explanation is we got hit by powerful straight line winds. No houses were damaged unless a tree fell on them.

We are back to normal now. I now have enough firewood to last me for five years.

Now I must apologize to the wife and kid for not believing their story.

Two years diabetes free

Today I celebrate another anniversary.

I used to be a type 2 diabetic. But this marks the two year anniversary of being diabetic free. My medication the last two years has been diet and exercise. After I suffered a stroke three years ago I was also diagnosed for the second time in my life with type 2 diabetes.

I shot 20 units of insulin in my belly every morning to control blood sugar levels. I was determine that I was not going to live the rest of my life like this. During treatment class I always remembered a cartoon of a guy driving a convertible with a red flag flowing in the wind. The caption said  “you are in the driver’s seat.”

In other words I controlled whether I was diabetic or not. I took control and became the guy in the convertible with the little red flag.

Months late doctors reduced my insulin shots from 20 to 12 units, then to eight units. And finally I heard the news I wanted to hear. Doctors were in agreement that I should be taken off insulin all together.

Here is how doctors determine if you are diabetic. A blood test measures your blood sugar levels for the past three months. If it is 6.0 or above you are considered diabetic. If it is 5.8 or 5.9 you are considered pre diabetic.

Anything below that and you are considered normal. I got the A1C blood sugar results this morning. I came in at 5.2 My A1C the last two years has ranged from 4.6 to 5.5.

I write this because 3 million Americans will become diabetics this year and they are told it is a chronic disease because Big Pharma wants you to rely on their drugs for the rest of your life. A doctor told me that a 45 minute work out is like a shot of insulin.

I spoke to a doctor’s group who wanted to know what I did to get off insulin. Their goal is to reduce the number of patients who are so crippled by diabetes that they eventually  have limbs removed.

I know of people whose A1C shot up to 14.5 and they felt dizzy and sluggish. I know of others whose A1C was around 20.0 and they had limbs amputated.

The key word is moderation. I drink beer, eat frozen yogurt and treat myself once a week to a pecan braid at Panera bread. But I mostly eat grilled chicken, fish and vegetables. I gave up pop or soda and drink lots of water. That combination resulted in a 43 pound weight loss.

I have my fun but I remain in the driver’s seat. And I want to stay there with my little red flag waving in the wind.


This marks the three year anniversary of a stroke

My life changed three cropped-terry-beach.jpgyears ago this week.

Life turned from I feel completely happy and life is rolling like a tidal wave to I feel miserable, cannot walk and talk or feel my right arm. And why the heck am I laying in a cold tube at 3 in the morning for brain scans?

This week three years ago I suffered the first of two strokes which put me on the sidelines of a once fulfilling and fun career in Detroit sports media. Now I am just a guy watching from the sidelines, sometimes sad that the run ended. But sometimes I am happy that the ride ended because life is a lot less stressful without deadlines to meet and two employers trying to convince you that you should devote more time to them,

Now I worry about meeting cooking and laundry deadlines for the family which are easier to meet.

I am a different person than I was three years ago. I feel like the old Terry Foster died and a new Terry Foster emerged.

I am happy to be around, bouncing around town and enjoying life in a different way.

I am not going to blame my career path for the strokes. Its how I handled my career path that caused the strokes. I could have taken time off to take care of myself and go to the doctor more often. However, I was always chasing the next big story in Detroit sports, making evening phone calls and maintaining my presence on the Valenti and Foster drive time show on 971 The Ticket

Both newspaper and radio were good about giving you time off. I chose not to take it because I was addicted to the profession.

Let me answer the question most people ask me. Is a stroke painful?

They are all different. In my case there was no physical pain. I felt numb, heaviness in the legs and the complete loss of my fine motor skills. I had pretty good hand to eye coordination. That is no longer the case.

I had pretty good speed for an old guy. That is no longer the case. But thankfully I can run well enough to stay out of trouble.

I am different though. The first stroke robbed me of many of my physical strengths. The second robbed me of my personality.

My ideal of a good time was crawling into the bed and pulling the cover over my head. I did not want to talk to the wife, the kids, neighbors or friends. I was a shell of my former self.

My doctor recommended that I socialize more. It helped because I am almost back to that old guy with the gift of gab and stale humor. Sometimes I want to crawl back in my shell but I won’t allow myself to do so.

Doctors fear depression.

You find strength in peoples’ well wishes and in friends. Two media people really stood by me during my darkest hours. I swear Rob Parker called me every day to see how I was doing and offered to talk any time of day. That meant a lot to me and I don’t know how to thank him except to say thanks.

And Detroit News sports columnist Bob Wojnowski provided refreshing and therapeutic  Friday nights at Bar Louie in Novi. He always offers to be there for me and is a real pal for sharing a few beers and snacks.

I must thank wife Abs who acted as a strong patient advocate and held my hand when it needed holding. And thanks to my pal Melissa who has thrown a lot of support my way.

Now I almost feel bad about beating up Rob in the boxing ring and making fun of Wojo just for being Wojo.

I celebrated my third year anniversary by going to see the doctor. Dr. Elconin gave me another clean bill of health.

So I decided to have a me day where I did and ate what I wanted. I went downtown for a cheeseburger and fries at Shake Shack and later discovered the downtown Plum Market. That place is amazing. I downed two glasses of wine and home girl behind the bar made an Old Fashion for me.

So how do I feel three years later?

I feel good but not great. I still have heavy legs. I don’t feel as sharp or as quick witted. I can do many of the things I could do before. But at a slower pace.

I get tired easily but can’t sleep.

I am happiest at the gym with the old people at Planet Fitness and with Stephanie and the gang during body pump class at the West Bloomfield Power House gym.



Free Detroit Tigers shirt turns into a gem

english dSometimes the best things in life are free.

The little train that storms around Comerica Park spitting out free T-shirts dropped one in my lap and people have been raving over it ever since. It is a simple orange shirt with a giant Old English D plastered in front.

I’ve only worn it twice but I’ve received at least a half a dozen compliments. During my  evening walk through the neighborhood I passed a woman walking with her child.

“Oh I just love your shirt,” she gushed.

Minutes before that a woman at the library said she loved the shirt. One of my neighbors asked me to give him the shirt.

I explained to the first woman how I got the shirt and she actually stopped to listen. Maybe she thought I was going to give her the shirt off my back. Not a chance lady.

I almost didn’t get this amazing shirt. I was in section 117 at the Tigers game with my son Brandon when shirts began pouring from the sky. The lady, who sat in front of me, didn’t get a chance at a shirt because she left to get food. I didn’t tell her that the shirt I nabbed feel right in her seat.

I scooped it up and put it in my bag.

“Geez,” the lady said. “I left at the wrong time.”

A sliver of guilt hit me. If she remained in her seat she would have caught the T shirt and taken it home. She noticed that everybody in the row in front of her and in back held a bundled shirt in their hands. I thought about reaching into my bag and giving it to her, but I am not that nice.

Would you give the shirt to the woman? Did I mess up?

I am glad I didn’t because people love it and I enjoy the compliments and conversations that follow.

Alert: Beware of Social Security scam

scam alertI am on the suckers list.

Over the past few months solitors have bombarded my cell phone with offers for hearing aids, opioids, car protection plans, cruises, cheap air fares to destinations I’d never want to go to in a million years (anybody interested in going to Mongolia?) and home protection plans.

Let me save the best scam for last. I received a call from the “Social Security office” who said that my social security number had been compromised in Texas where I just visited and that someone is money laundering in my name, has opened 11 bank accounts for thousands of dollars and rented a car where Texas authorities found two pounds of cocaine and blood in the back seat.

First they tried to get me to confess to the crimes. I didn’t. And then they wanted me to cooperate with them to avoid jail time. I didn’t. To crack the case all they needed was my social security number, what bank I had a legit account with and my home address.

They threatened to close all of my bank accounts, including the one legitimate bank account that I actually have.

The guy offered to do me a favor. I could withdraw money before they closed the account as long as I kept them on the line.

Like I said. I am on the suckers list. But I am not that much of a sucker. I probably listened too long, but the story was so good that the reporter in me took over and I took notes, including jotting down the agents badge number.

I told the old people that I work out with at Planet Fitness and my pal Larry Birds eyes lit up. He got the social security scam call also. They also said his social security number had been compromised and they threatened to cut off his social security checks if he did not cooperate.

He was a little smarter than me. He told the person that he worked for the Federal Government and that if he finds out this is a scam that he is going to prosecute. They immediately hung up.

People beware, especially if you are older. They pry on us old folks being gullible. Once I turned 55 the scams began rolling in at an alarming rate. Old people fall for these scams all the time. I woman told me that her mother fell for a scam. Someone call and said her son had been kidnapped. These people wanted to help her find her son but they needed travel money to investigate.

She gave them the money.

“They must be getting a lot of people’s money or they would not keep doing this,” Bird said.

We are under attack by scammers. They didn’t get me this time and make sure they don’t get you.

The shooting we did not hear about hits close to home

sixth streetMy daughter Celine is finishing up a summer job with Facebook in Austin, Texas.

She works hard and often takes work home with her. I called her last week and suggested she take a break. The weekend was coming. The grind of her junior year in college is not far behind.

“Take a break,” I told her. “Why don’t you go to your favorite spot in town and have a good time.”

She explained that she had too much work on her plate. She was preparing for a presentation and an interview.

She stayed in.

Thankfully she did not listen to dad.

There was a shooting near Celine’s hot spot in Austin. A 20 year old woman was shot and killed. Four others were injured. A few people got into an argument. A man became enraged and began shooting at random. People were hit who had no idea what the fuss was all about.

I don’t know if Celine would have been in harms way if she’d gone out that night. But the incident is a reminder that we live in a scary world. Or scary country.

The Austin shooting did not make the national news. We were focused on the mass shootings in El Paso and Dayton when 32 people were killed in two incidents that came within 13 hours of one another.

We live in a lawless society. Recently, Mt. Sinai Hospital in Chicago stopped accepting new patients and ambulances because there were too many gun shot victims in the emergency room to accept new victims.

Several countries have issued a tourism advisory for the United States because of the recent mass shootings. We’ve had nearly 300 mass shootings this year already and more are to come.

Three years ago I began fighting for a longer life after suffering two strokes in part because I want to be there for my daughter. I want to support her when she graduates from college, gets married and has her first child.

If Celine was killed that night by a stray bullet I’d be done. Part of the reason I want to remain on Earth would disappear.

One family in Austin is grieving. That does not match the hurt people are feeling in Dayton and El Paso. But that is still one life too many and that is not acceptable.

We should be better than this.






Powered by

Up ↑