A look at where locals land on new national lists

Senior combo guard Armaan Franklin, a standout at Cathedral and a four-star prospect, becomes IU's first commitment in the 2019 class.

Trayce Jackson-Davis and Keion Brooks are considered among the nation's best players in the 2020 class

In-state names sprinkled through new rankings for 2020, '21 and '22

In-state players well-represented in national recruiting rankings

This week, PrepVolleyball.com released its Class of 2020 recruiting rankings. The Hoosiers came in at No. 15 — a program best.

With the 2020 softball season approaching, it's time to break down the top Indiana prospects in each class. We start with a loaded senior class.

With the 2020 softball season approaching, it's time to break down the top Indiana prospects in each class.

IndyStar preps Insider Kyle Neddenriep identified the 64 "best" high school teams of all-time. That means the best team you can put together.

Indianapolis Colts have put themselves in position to leapfrog the New England Patriots and Houston Texans

On Monday, Frank Reich provided a sneak-peek into how the new acquisitions will fit into a suddenly stacked Colts offense.

This week, PrepVolleyball.com released its Class of 2020 recruiting rankings. The Hoosiers came in at No. 15 — a program best.

He showed enough as a freshman to suggest IU has a bonafide Big Ten shooting guard in Armaan Franklin, waiting to be developed.

This week, PrepVolleyball.com released its Class of 2020 recruiting rankings. The Hoosiers came in at No. 15 — a program best.

The Indiana Pacers would have started the 2020 NBA playoffs this weekend, but these memories will have to do for now.

Empty seats. Silent screens. How Franklin's Artcraft Theater is weathering the pandemic.

Boilermakers and Hoosiers try to break into the upper echelon of Big Ten football recruiting

Led by larger-than-life QB Drew Byerly, charismatic coach Chris Coll and two weight-room ringers, Franklin finally beats neighboring Whiteland.

An 8-week-old baby died Tuesday after the infant was dropped off at a babysitter in Pennington Mobile Home Park in Franklin, police said.

The Franklin Skeleton Crew is connecting small businesses with the community in an unconventional way.

Energizer is planning to open a facility in Franklin. Here's how much money they'll save in a 10-year tax abatement.

The last business standing on a flood-prone piece of land is expected to vacate this year, making way for a 15-acre park with an amphitheater.

A 15-acre park with amphitheater, playground and farmer's market plaza is planned for the southwest side of Franklin.

Franklin's quaint downtown is full of historic homes. But some had fallen into disrepair.

Franklin Development Corporation's Krista Linke talks about the city's residential facade program being used to transform downtown homes.

Mike and Carol Dale purchased the dilapidated home at 551 W. Madison St. in Franklin in 2019 and soon discovered it was an 1830s log cabin.

Coffeehouse Five opened a shop in Franklin this week. The coffeehouse is a non-profit that offers pastoral counseling services for free.

The Historic Artcraft Theater in Franklin has to survive the pandemic shutdown. The downtown economy depends on it.

This week, PrepVolleyball.com released its Class of 2020 recruiting rankings. The Hoosiers came in at No. 15 — a program best.

A deceased dad in the new "Onward" echoes some of Pixar's most moving moments involving absent relatives.

• Tesla's vehicles are and always have been crammed with great ideas.
• These range from touchscreen interfaces to innovative battery designs to staggering acceleration.
• I've driven or experienced every vehicle Tesla has ever sold or intends to sell in the future.
• Here are all my favorite features, ranked.
• Visit Business Insider's homepage for more stories.

In about two decades, Tesla has done what everyone in the auto industry thought was impossible: create an all-electric brand that could sell hundreds of thousands of vehicles.

Tesla could have done that in a boring or modest way, developing  the equivalent of an electric VW Beetle.

Instead, Tesla made fantastically compelling cars that are fast, look amazing, and are packed with features.

Here's a rundown of all my favorites, ranked from bottom to top:

FOLLOW US: On Facebook for more car and transportation content!

Tesla has been in business for 17 years. In that period of time, it's consistently captivated the world not just because it makes all-electric cars, but because those cars have always been packed with cool features.

"Easter eggs" — frivolous little extras that Tesla throws in whenever it does software updates. Owners enjoy finding them.

The Model X's falcon-wing doors. Dramatic, slightly impractical, and a nightmare to manufacture. But Tesla has the only SUV on the road with such an exotic feature.

Bioweapon Defense Mode uses a powerful filtration system to render the interior air quality of the Model X or Model S "hospital grade," according to Tesla.

The Model X's 5,000-pound towing capacity. Nobody ever talks about it, but the Model X can tow a goodly amount for an electric SUV. It's very competitive with gas-powered SUVs that tout their capabilities.

The large, central portrait touchscreen on the Model S and Model X. This mega-tablet interface was a revelation when Tesla first introduced it on the Model S in 2012, but it's now emulated throughout the auto industry. It's actually canted slightly toward the driver.

Aero Wheels on the Model 3. The proprietary design is standard on the vehicle, enhancing airflow, reducing drag, and improving range.

Ludicrous Mode. The acceleration feature — which followed Insane Mode, first rolled for the all-wheel-drive Model S — enables Teslas to cover the 0-60 mph sprint at supercar-like velocities.

Frunks! All Teslas currently on sale have front trunks, expanding their cargo capacities. Having no gas engine helps to free up space.

Trunks! Teslas are commendable cargo haulers because they're effectively boxes on top of battery packs, creating ample space for luggage, groceries, of gear.

Quiet. In operation, Teslas are notably quiet and smooth, thanks to the optimization of airflow, solid build quality, and mostly silent electric motors.

The Tesla smartphone app. I've actually tested a number of these from assorted manufacturers, but Tesla's is the only one that's truly useful. For the Model 3, it replaces the traditional key fob.

The glass roof of the Model 3. It creates a stunning silhouette and floods the cabin with natural light.

The space-age operators' platform in the cab of the Tesla Semi. This space — clearly anticipating a time when semi-trucks drive themselves — is the most futuristic thing Tesla has ever designed.

Roadsters in space. CEO Elon Musk's personal Tesla Roadster was launched atop the SpaceX Falcon Heavy rocket in 2017, as a test payload. Piloted by "Starman," it set a new standard for automotive marketing.

Tesla's in-house audio system. Most luxury brands partner with a big-name audio company for premium sound systems, but Tesla developed its own — and it sounds absolutely fantastic.

Charge monitoring and mapping. Charging is among the most important things Tesla has to think about, so the company has made it a priority to track it in the vehicle and via the app, as well as to plot road-trip courses that use GPS navigation to permit island-hopping from charging location to charging location.

Navigate on Autopilot combines Tesla's GPS mapping system with Autopilot's ability to execute lane changes and freeway on- and off-ramping maneuvers.

The new Roadster's staggering performance specs. The all-new machine has a claimed 0-60 mph time of 1.9 seconds, making it the fastest production vehicle in the world.

The Model 3's consolidated vehicle-management system and central landscape touchscreen. Almost every aspect of the Model 3 is controlled here, and the traditional instrument cluster has been moved to the left side of the screen, and streamlined.

The radical design of the Cybertruck. In late 2019, Tesla had fallen into a design rut. The otherworldly, stainless-steel Cybertruck changed all that. Controversial to be sure, but also thrilling.

Read about the Cybertrucks' rad design.

Manufacturing simplicity. Electric cars are less complicated to build than gas-powered ones. Tesla has designed its factory in China to optimize this aspect of production, which could support and enviable profit margin for Tesla in the 20-30% range.

The white interior. It's an extra, but a very popular one. I was initially skeptical, but I'm now a fan. After all, it survived a 700-plus-mile family road trip!

Read about the road trip.

Over-the-air software updates. Just like smartphones, Teslas can be routinely upgraded while sitting in owners' driveways. This means that an older Tesla can acquire new features quite literally overnight.

The Supercharger network. Access to DC fast-charging used to be a lifetime perk for Tesla owners, but Tesla has begun to bill for the service. Still, it enables longer road trips and is completely integrated with each Tesla vehicle's systems.

Tesla's design philosophy. Head designer Franz von Holzhausen and Elon Musk argue that it doesn't cost anymore to make Teslas beautiful. But von Holzhausen has also exercised tasteful restraint, ensuring that Tesla's vehicles have a long market life.

Read about Franz's design influence.

Performance! Tesla vehicles have always combined electric virtuosity with industry-leading performance. Owners can usually expect to be driving one of the fastest cars on the road.

Battery design. Tesla has taken a complicated, multi-cell concept — thousands are wired together in packs — and perfected it, yielding impressive range and performance. The company also manufactures its own packs, in partnership with Panasonic.

The Model 3's minimalist driving experience. With the clean dashboard, you can focus on the road ahead. It's a blissful thing and my top Tesla feature.

The bottom line is that while plenty of other automakers put cool features in their cars, Teslas are crammed with ideas, ideas, and more ideas.

MRG is excited to release its highly comprehensive annual study IPTV Market Leader Report by Product and Region — Fall 2012.

MRG’s IPTV Market Leader Reports identify which IPTV systems and software companies are leading each of the six IPTV market segments: access systems, video headend systems, video-on-demand server software, set-top boxes, middleware, and content protection/digital rights management. The data is further segmented by geographic region as follows: North America, Latin America/Caribbean, Western Europe, Eastern Europe, Asia Pacific and the Middle East/Africa.

“IPTV is continuing its rapid growth worldwide but some of the more exciting opportunities are only just beginning in the Middle East/Africa and Latin America/Caribbean regions,” said Jose Alvear, Senior Research Analyst at MRG. “While the growth in the number of new IPTV service providers has been slowing down because telcos around the world have already deployed IPTV services for a number of years, there are still plenty of new opportunities available to vendors in emerging markets. In addition, vendors are now supplying multi-screen, content delivery and OTT services, as the global pay-TV industry continues to evolve into new screens and devices.”

There are several things which go into successful video marketing on YouTube. One of these things is the very often neglected YouTube SEO that’s so vital for getting viewers to actually find your video. Too many YouTube marketers are concerned with what’s going on in their videos to really push for better SEO, and it […]

The post How Web Media Developer can use YouTube SEO with Better Search Marketing to Rank Their Videos appeared first on SpyreStudios.

strataconf: A roundup of healthcare tools used in the field from #hdpalooza http://t.co/0d2x3OlaeC including @MedCPU @SVBiosystems @CHRankings & more

Eleven members of the Secret Service have tested positive for COVID-19, according a new report. Yahoo News reported Friday it has seen Department of Homeland Security documents which show that 11 individuals currently have the virus and that 23 members of the Secret Service have recovered from the disease. Another 60 employees of the agency…

The post Report: Secret Service Discovers Nearly a Dozen Coronavirus Cases in Its Own Ranks appeared first on The Western Journal.

Amazon’s share of US ecommerce approaches 40% February 24, 2020 (New York, NY) — Target’s increased focus on building its ecommerce business has been paying off. The big-box retailer, which […]

1.

Nothing wrecks your living room decor quite like a giant, rented hospital bed.

The one my Dad laid in for a couple months in the fall of 1974 was an alarmingly stiff and sturdy affair, the frame of which was forged of impossibly heavy iron, with half a dozen jaggy coats of putty-flesh latex paint doing a shit job of concealing the dings and dents kissed by dozens of clutches of burly rental guys trying to navigate unaccommodating residential doors.

Jammed cattywampus between a teddy-bear brown sectional, an antiqued rococo credenza, and what had until recently been my Father's favorite armchair, the hospital bed left little room for easy socializing, let alone aesthetic speculation. This was a living room where a very ill person would mostly die soon.

The hospital bed's defining feature was the theoretical ease with which the human trunk slumped in its top half could be raised or lowered by turning a shitty little crank at the foot of its lower half. Like the bed itself, the shitty little crank was ugly and obtrusive and hard to live with. Mom and I tripped over the crank a lot.

The theoretically useful but ultimately shitty little crank made the hospital bed look like those old-timey cars we'd see in the bad silent movies they showed down at Shakey's Pizza.

Mom and Dad despised the saltines-and-ketchup style of pizza served at Shakey's. To them, LaRosa's over on Cheviot had way better pizza plus a pretty good jukebox. But, I really liked Shakey's. They gave away cool styrofoam boater hats with a red paper band that said, "Shakey's Pizza Parlor." Which I thought looked smashing. So, they used to take me to Shakey's.

In practice, the hospital bed's shitty little crank functioned mostly as a recalcitrant and pinch-inducing mechanism for eroding my father's dignity.

Dad would lay in the hospital bed that filled our living room while my Mom slowly cranked. He'd try to make jokes. (Dad had always been the funniest person any of his friends knew.) The hospital bed creaked. Mom cranked. Dad's tired upper half would haltingly rise and bob with reluctant help from the bed's upper half. Mom sweated at the crank. Dad laid there and watched. Dad couldn't help. He watched. He was in the hospital bed. Mom did all the cranking. Dad watched. He watched while his wife turned a shitty little iron crank, trying impotently to make her best friend just a tiny bit more comfortable as his body worked to finally finish eating itself. But, he couldn't help out. I think he wanted to help out. But, he couldn't help out.

She couldn't really help my Dad. My Dad couldn't really help her. But they sure tried.

She cranked and cranked.

I was seven. I didn't know how to help anyone.

2.

The last time I saw my Dad, he was in a different hospital bed. That one was a much more functional and aesthetically appropriate unit neatly fitted into an overlit semi-private room in the highly-regarded Jewish Hospital located on E. Galbraith Road. We weren't Jewish. We were just sick.

Frankly, I forget what the crank on the second hospital bed looked like, but I seem to recall that it worked just fine.

This was maybe a week before my Dad died.

From what I can gather, he and my Mom had wanted to time things so that I could be with him as long and as late as possible--but not so late that I'd have to see him in the kind of condition I have to assume he was in during the full week he was too ill for his boy to visit him. Pretty bad condition, I'm guessing.

In the almost forty years since Dad's last week in any hospital bed, my Mom and I haven't talked much about it. If there are things to say about that week, I'm not sure even forty years is long enough to prep for them. I know I'm still not ready. I should ask my Mom if she's ready. She was forty then. Just under half her life ago.

What I do know is my Mom lived by that second hospital bed most every minute of Dad's last week. Just like she'd been by the first hospital bed in her living room for the months before. Only now she was the one sleeping on the wrong bed. There are limits to the physical comforts you can offer a woman who's determined to stay by her husband's second hospital bed until it's time.

But she was there that whole time. Up to the last time my sweet Dad ever said anything to anyone.

As he laid in that second hospital bed, I'm told that the last thing my Dad said to anyone was something he said to my Mom. He told my Mom:

Take care of The Big Guy.

That was me. I was "The Big Guy." My Dad always called me "Big Guy," and I always loved when he said that. It made me feel strong. It made me feel tall. It made me know that my Dad and I were best pals.

I still love knowing I was my Dad's best pal.

3.

I don't specifically remember the day our particular clutch of burly rental guys came out to remove the first hospital bed from our living room. I do remember thinking it was weird how quickly the space filled with huge floral arrangements, covered dishes and casseroles, and a pack of outdoorsy men with giant red hands who were new to sobbing inconsolably in front of each other.

But, that hospital bed had been heavy. Really heavy. And even though the bed's wheels had been thoughtfully nested in plastic casters, the raw tonnage of the iron motherfucker left permanent dents in our ugly, broccoli-green carpeting. Six breadplate-sized dents that were still there a year and a half later on the day my Mom and I moved out.

We didn't need a house that big for just the two of us. Plus, the living room wasn't much fun to hang out in any more.

Way too big. Way too big.

4.

I don't currently have a hospital bed. I have a modest but very comfortable regular bed in a regular bedroom where I sleep with my regular wife. She's my favorite part of the bed.

To my knowledge, our modest but very comfortable bed is not fitted with a shitty little crank. Which is nice for everyone.

And, every single morning at almost exactly 6:00 AM Pacific Time, my three-year-old daughter wakes up, jumps out of her crank-free, regular, big-girl bed, tears out of her regular bedroom, and--even before she gets her hot milk or takes off her pull-up or tells us to turn on Toy Story 2--she dashes into our regular bedroom, runs up to our regular non-hospital bed, and screams, "DAD-dy! DAD-dy! DAD-dy!" until I wake up and say, "G'mornin', Sweet Bug! Did you have nice sleeps?"

Sometimes she tells me whether or not she had nice sleeps. Often as not lately, she tells me to make her hot milk and turn on Toy Story 2. Both of which I'm totally fine with.

Thing is, she screams "DAD-dy!" like the most impossibly great thing in the world has just happened. Every single morning. Right by my bed. Without a crank in sight.

And, you know what? Something impossibly great has happened.

Because an annoying, rambling, disagreeable little man like me gets to have this alarm clock in piggy-patterned footie jammies run up to a regular, crank-less, healthy-Dad, non-hospital bed and make him feel like he's The Greatest Thing in the Universe.

Just like I think she's The Greatest Thing in the Universe.

Just like I thought my Dad was The Greatest Thing in the Universe.

And, although I'm confident that I will always think my daughter is The Greatest Thing in the Universe, I'm also all too aware that this feeling will not always be reciprocated in quite that same way or with quite that same enthusiasm that we both enjoy right now.

She won't always run to my bed in footie jammies.

I'll only get that particularly noisy and personalized wake-up call for a little while. And, I only get a shot at it once a day. At almost exactly 6:00 AM Pacific Time.

Then one day? I won't get it any more. It will be gone.

5.

Many mornings over the past six months or so, at almost exactly 6:00 AM Pacific Time, I was not in my regular bed. I was not even at home. I was sitting in another building, typing bullshit that I hoped would please my book editor. Who, by the way, is awesome.

And, if I noticed what time it was, I'd always wonder whether my daughter had run into our bedroom yet.

I'd wonder whether she had seen my side of the bed empty again. And, when I thought about my empty spot on the bed and how disappointed she'd be to scream "DAD-dy! DAD-dy! DAD-dy!" then see I'm not even there, I'd die a little.

I'd die a little, because as I thought about her, I'd think about my Dad. And as I thought about my Dad, I'd start thinking about hospital beds with cranks--then on to dents, and covered dishes, and rooms full of sobbing outdoorsy guys, and so on.

But, by then it might be 6:10 am Pacific Time. And I didn't have time to think about my family. Not now, right? No, I had to keep working. I had to stay in that other building and keep typing bullshit that I hoped would please my editor. Who is awesome.

So, I'd type and type. I'd crank and crank. I'd try and try. I'd want very much to go home, make hot milk, and watch Toy Story 2. So much, I'd want this.

6.

Anyhow, this has been my on-and-off job for the past two years. I type. And, I try to type things that will help and comfort people, but mostly I try to type things that will please my editor. Who is awesome.

Sometimes I do my job at 6:00 AM Pacific Time. Sometimes I do my job at 5:30 PM or 11:30 AM or really any time in between. Sometimes I do my job while my family goes to birthday parties and holiday dinners and a couple vacations and I don't even know how many (non-Shakey's) pizza nights--all without me. Without Dad.

In fact, a depressing amount of the time--really up until this week--I would do my job until I hadn't the slightest idea what time it was or what bullshit I was typing or what my crank was ever meant to be attached to in the first place.

But, even when my shitty little crank was not attached to anything, I did keep cranking. Because, Dads do their job. It's what they do.

They crank. They crank and crank and crank and crank.

Sometimes the cranking made something special that will be really useful to people who badly need the comfort and help. But, a staggering amount of the time, my cranking has produced joyless and unemotional bullshit that couldn't comfort, help, or please anyone. Especially my editor. Who is awesome. There's no point in doing anything if it doesn't eventually please my editor. Who is awesome.

This has constantly hung over my head. For two fucking years.

But, this has been my job. It's a job I often did late. It's a job I often did poorly. And, it's a job where I often didn't pull my load or live up to even my own expectations and standards. Which is far from my editor's fault.

She's been awesome.

7.

Anyhow, I've tried to do my job. But, I've often failed.

I've sometimes failed to make things that will help and comfort people. And, God knows I've failed to please my editor.

And, worst of all, more often than my heart can bear at 2:34 pm Pacific Time on Friday April 22nd, I know I've failed to be home for several of my daily shot at "DAD-dy! DAD-dy! DAD-dy!"

It's now become unavoidably clear to me that I've been doing each of these things poorly. The job, the making, the pleasing, and, yeah, the being at home. And I can't live with that for another day. So, I've chosen which one has to go. At least in the way it's worked to date. Which is to say not working.

I'll let you guess which.

Because, that? That choosing? That's what my book needs to be about. Not about pleasing people. Not about cranking on bullshit. Not about abandoning your priorities to write about priorities.

My book needs to be about choosing a hard thing and then living with it. Because it's your thing.

But, that part's gone missing for just a little too long now. Certainly not missing from my handsome and very practical rhetoric--it's been missing from my actual life and living. In a quest to make something that has increasingly not felt like my own, I've unintentionally ignored my own counsel to never let your hard work fuck up the good things. Including those regular people. Including, ironically, the real work. Including any good thing the crank is supposed to be attached to.

So, I'm done fucking that up. I'm done cranking. And, I'm ready to make a change.

I'm not sure precisely what that change will look like, but, at the risk of invoking Godwin's Law, I have a pretty good idea that this particular performance of "Edelweiss" you're enjoying right now may immediately be followed by a dramatic chase, a hopeful escape attempt, and only if I'm extremely lucky, maybe an eventual stride over the Alps.

As I'll explain in a minute, it most likely means I don't have My Book Contract any more.

Who knows? We'll have to see.

8.

All I know is tonight's Friday. And, that's Daddy-Daughter Night.

And, my book agent says my editor (who is awesome) will probably cancel My Book Contract if I don't send her something that pleases her…today. Now. By tonight. Theoretically, I guess...uh...this.

See: my agent very helpfully suggested I send my editor a chapter full of "email stuff." My editor really likes "email stuff." And, it was theorized by my agent that sending this "email stuff" might please my book editor just enough that she might not cancel My Book Contract. For now.

Well. If you've made it this far, you, like my editor (who is awesome), will have realized that this is not a chapter of "email stuff."

It's a very long, wooly, histrionic, messy and uncomfortable story about hospital beds, piggy jammies, and styrofoam hats. I seriously doubt it will please my editor. Who is awesome.

So, no, I really hope she doesn't cancel My Book Contract. But, it does occur to me that said contract is the last and only thing my publisher has to intimidate me into doing things I don't want to do. Things I think will harm my book, my integrity, and my life.

Once that threat is made good, the game ends. They can sue me and yell and stuff. Which would suck, but at least no one would be demanding my book have fucking pussy willows on the cover. Which, as I sit here, feels more and more unbearable to me.

In any case, I don't control anything that anyone does. It took a long time for me to really get that.

It's such a funny thing. Threats--like hurricanes and rectal exams--are only scary until they arrive. Once they're over, they're just the basis for funny stories. But, you do nearly always survive them. And, if you didn't survive? It wasn't because of a lack of fear. Like I say, the universe doesn't particularly care whether you're scared.

Oh, well. I like my editor. She's awesome. I hope she doesn't cancel My Book Contract. I hope we keep working together.

But if it goes away today, tomorrow or further on? Well. As a favorite novelist of mine used to say: "So it goes."

I'll figure this out tomorrow. Or Monday. Or later. Tonight is Daddy-Daughter Night. And, no fucking way am I missing two in a row.

9.

Now, as far as My Goddamned Book? Truthfully? Wanna hear the really complicated part?

This is not me quitting the book. No fucking way. This is me doubling down on the book--on my book.

I will finish my book very soon. Not because of (or in spite of) any contract, and not because of (or in spite of) any editor, and certainly not because of (or in spite of) any tacit demand for empty cranking.

I will finish my book because I want to finish it. Because it is very, very important to me to finish it.

But, again, let's be clear-- what I finish will be my book. And, it will be done my way. And, yes--you Back to Work fans knew this one was coming--my book will have my cover that I choose. It will not have fucking pussy willows or desert islands or third-rate kerning. It will be, to quote my editor (who is awesome), "messy."

My book will help and comfort the people that I want to reach. And, yes, much like my editor, my book will be awesome.

I truly hope my book pleases her.

10.

So, there you have it. An article that's clearly not a chapter of "email stuff."

Me? I'm off to prep for "Daddy-Daughter Night."

And, tomorrow morning, unlike last Saturday morning and countless other days before it, at the crack of 6:00 am Pacific Time, I will be available in my regular crankless bed to ask my daughter whether she had nice sleeps. And I will tell her and my regular wife that I think they're the Greatest Things in the Universe.

And, maybe after I make hot milk and watch Woody worry about cowboy camp, I may even think to myself about how proud my funny Dad would be of his pal, The Big Guy. For doing what needed to be done. To be someone special's Dad for as often and as long as he can. Just like he did. Even when it gets hard.

Even when it gets really hard.

Thanks for listening, nerds. You'll hear more when I hear more.

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Frank Robinson's tenure as Giants manager was short but significant. He and his teams provided hope and promise when both were in short supply around Candlestick Park.

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Frank Robinson, a trailblazing figure who was Major League Baseball's first African-American manager and one of its greatest players during a career that spanned 21 seasons, died Thursday after a prolonged illness. He was 83.

A South Carolina man had extra trouble convincing his wife that his $250,000 lottery win was legitimate due to her memories of a past prank.