New Year’s Eve has never been a particularly important holiday for me because I spent far too many of them on the road, alone in a Marriott hotel room somewhere, waiting for the next-day’s “big” game. But those days are long over, so I suppose it’s time to re-assess, especially since I’m four months into my seventh decade on this troubled orb of ours. I can say this for certain: Never have I more gratefully metaphorically turned a page than I did Saturday night.

Happy New Year!
Last January 1, I awoke to the news that I was negative for COVID-19, terrific news because I was 72 hours from undergoing a much-needed hip replacement. But, by nightfall, I had received another test result — from the hospital where the surgery would take place — informing me that, nope, I was positive and my operation would have to be pushed back a month. A gut punch, to say the least, given the pain I was in. It’s a good thing I’ve always been allergic to firearms.
What helped hugely, though was the arrival of a new four-legged child on Jan. 6. Little Coco, an exuberant six-month-old Pomeranian puppy, provided great comfort during that difficult patch. Ultimately the surgery would take place on January 20 and it couldn’t have gone more swimmingly, thanks to the skills of Dr. Ken Mathis, a rock star in his own right. After four days, I’d ditched the walker and within three weeks I was back on the bike, pain-free and pedaling like a crazy person. Debbie and I headed off to France on schedule, then spent an absolutely splendid spring there, enjoying our gorgeous little off-the-beaten-path Alpine valley with friends, new and old. Our best trip ever, we declared it.
It was certainly Coco’s, who proved to be a perfect traveler in her maiden voyage as a frequent flyer.

But returning to Houston in sweltering mid-June brought new adventures — and sweeping changes. A wee-hours trip on the staircase leading from our bedroom down to the kitchen could have been catastrophic had I landed on the new right hip, but instead I only made my already messed-up left knee exponentially worse. A series of PRP injections (that’s platelet-rich-plasma, fyi) got me mobile again, but a loud message had been clearly delivered. I was done with stairs. And Debbie was done with bagging fallen magnolia leaves in 100-plus-degree heat.
Our Montrose home, hard by Buffalo Bayou Park and special in every way imaginable, went on the market. It sold quickly — for well above the asking price — and we became renters for the first time in 47 years. But whereas our original apartment on Hermann Drive, long since torn down, had maybe 500 square feet and cost $135 a month, our new one is 18 floors above Kirby Drive with a panorama that includes downtown, the Medical Center and Greenway Plaza. Whole Foods is across the street. Yes, it’s priced accordingly.
Because Debbie and met living in Moody Towers, brand new in the fall of 1970 on the University of Houston campus, we weren’t strangers to high-rise living, so this move feels like closing a circle. Also, I now wake up to a view of the Astrodome, which is what brought me to H-town in the first place.
We took possession of the apartment and began moving stuff in on Sept. 25, with Debbie leaving for France the next day. That evening, after dining with a friend, we headed back to the house in separate cars. Debbie’s made it. Mine didn’t. At the intersection of Allen Parkway and Montrose, two blocks from home, a young man ran a red light at 30 m.p.h. and nearly T-boned me. Had he, I would likely have been killed. A Z4 is no match for an Expedition. Fortuitously, only the Beemer, barely 11 months old, was beyond repair. I escaped with my hip intact — again — and nothing worse than a minor blackeye caused by the airbag.
Still shaken, I got Debbie to the airport the next day in her car . . . then promptly ran out of gas on the way home. Nonetheless, the rest of the move went smoothly and I followed her to the Alps a week later. We had another fabulous stay and even 40 hours spent trapped in travel hell on the return didn’t dim our enthusiasm for our new high-in-the-sky life. Further, I had a cool new ride waiting for me when I got back. I can’t say enough good things about the folks at Liberty Mutual. They’re as fair as their commercials are funny.
Despite the delays, I arrived just in time to watch the Astros’ close out the Phillies in the World Series. A successful fundraiser I helped orchestrate for Houston’s Alliance Française followed in early December and, just a few days ago, the wine-tasting tour through the South of France I’m co-hosting with my new best friend, Pablo Valqui, sold out.
One final challenge was losing my “sportwineguy” domaine — long story, which began with us getting hit with some pretty serious credit card fraud — but I was able to lock up “thesportywineguy” as a replacement. So, by any measure, 2022 ended way better than it began.
Now here we are, starting fresh in 2023, optimistic that the next 12 months — and hopefully many more months after that — will be free of health issues and heartache. At our age I know that’s asking a lot, but fingers and toes are crossed because there are still many wines to sample, and plenty of topics to both blog and podcast about, the latter with my like-minded buddy Jeremy Parzen (http://dobianchi.com). I intend to keep the petal to the proverbial metal because, as my favorite philosopher, Charles Barkley, was always wont to say, “Life is short and death is long.”
My celebratory bottle of bubbles for ringing in the New Year? See below. To again quote Sir Charles, “Hey, somebody’s gotta be me.”

Cheers!
Sippin’ with Sporty
I know, this is supposed to be a wine blog. Sorry for the digression above. Here we go . . .
2021 J. Lohr October Night Chardonnay

Although the wine, made from chardonnay grown in Arroyo Seco, tastes classically Californian, it was made using traditional Burgundy methods such as malolactic fermentation and a weekly stirring of the lees, used, explains winemaker Kristen Barnhisel, “to complement the aromatics, while also adding a creamy palate texture and long finish.” Aging lasted in barrell, sur lie, for eight months, 24 percent new. $25 at http://jlohr.com
2021 Hampton Water Languedoc Rose

Wine.com’s Wilfred Wong calls this collaboration between the Languedoc’s Gerard Bertrand and rocker Jon Bon Jovie’s one, Jessie Bongiove “one of the world’s most consistent pink wines. (Dad got to know Bertrand performing at his summer jazz festival near the Narbonne shore.) It’s floral, fruity and minerally all at once and delicious year around. Wong scored the wine a 91. It earns 100 points for value, especially for the $17.99 sale price at Kroger right now.
2019 Chappellet Pritchard Hill Cabernet Sauvignon
I finished the year with yet another reference-standard California cabernet, this blockbuster from the Chappellet family, which turned Napa Valley’s Pritchard Hill into one of the world’s most revered and renowned wine locales, certainly for cab-centric blends, since the winery’s founding in 1967. Five national critics scored the Chappellet’s flagship 93 or higher with offering more eloquent praise than James Suckling, who described it as being “voluptuously full bodied, with a lavish structure and supple tannins framing the ripe dark berry and blackcurrant flavors.” $289.95 at http://wineexpress.com

Pop-Up Wine Night: 6 p.m. Thursday, Jan. 12. Serca Wines. http://sercawines.com $35. http://eventbright.com
JMP Wine Night Featuring Orin Swift Wines: 6:30 p.m. Thursday, Jan. 19. JMP Wines Tasting Room, Humble. http://jmpwines.com $70. http://eventbrite.com
The Sports Page
Raising a glass to . . . J. J. Watt
Like Earl Campbell, J. J. became a bit of a shooting star in our midst, delivering only a few great seasons before injuries took their toll. But so great were they that, like Earl, he’s a certain first-ballot Hall-of-Famer as one of only two men to be named Defensive Player of the Year three times. (Lawrence Taylor was the other.) Also, like the Tyler Rose, he never got that championship. No matter. He was a championship human being, and as beloved as any athlete who ever stepped between the lines on H-town’s behalf. Surely, Cal McNair will do the right thing and make sure J.J. retires as a Texan.
Pouring one out for . . . Péle
In the 20th century, there were two truly transcendent, force-of-nature athletes, Muhammad Ali and Edson Arantes do Nascimento. The globe was indeed their stage, sans hyperbole. My favorite Péle story: When he and his Santos team traveled to Nigeria in 1967, a 48-hour cease-fire in a savage civil war then raging in the country was declared in order to allow both sides to watch him play. He died Dec. 29 at the age of 82.
Follow me
Podcast: Sporty Wine Guy
Instagram: sportywineguy
Twitter: @sportywineguy
Facebook: Dale Robertson
Others to follow
Jeremy Parzen (http://dobianchi.com): My podcast partner in crime looks back on a most memorable year for his family, which celebrates its first Christmas in their new Westbury home.
Sandra Crittenden (http://winelifehouston.com): Sandra suggests 10 pinot noirs you need to try now, sharing an inciteful piece she wrote for Galveston magazine.
Russ Kane (http://vintagetexas.com): Russ chooses his favorite Texas wines of 2022. Spoiler alert: The 2019 Bending Branch Malbec ranked No. 1.
Jeff Kralick (http://thedrunkencyclist.com): Jeff picks his 10 favorite sparkling wines of 2022. Spoiler alert: The Bruno Paillard Blanc de Blancs Grand Cru Extra Brute was his bubbles bottle of the year.
Katrina Rene (http://thecorkscrewconcierge.com): Kat recounts her adventures in Healdsburg, her travel destination for this holiday season.
















