The secret to a longer life includes cream and sugar

Ohmygoshthisisawesome!

Hold on. Let me calm down. And wipe the sweat from my forehead.

OK. Deep breath.

Hold on, I've got to make a run to the bathroom. I'll be back . . . oh, never mind. I can hold it.

Anyway, here's some big news: According to a study of British adults, coffee drinkers have a slightly lower risk of death than non-coffee drinkers.

Although that's really a misstatement. We all have a 100 percent risk of death. Coffee drinkers will just keep the grim reaper waiting while we sip another cuppa Joe, because it turns out that coffee makes you live longer.

What's more, people who drink three or four cups of coffee a day have an even greater advantage.

Some say seven cups of coffee isn't too much. Maybe it's too much for that co-worker who is agitated by your incessant toe-tapping and chattering, but not for helping you live longer.

It's science!

Researchers at the National Cancer Institute in England (good basketball team, football team hasn't made a bowl game in decades) used data from people participating in a genetic study. They answer detailed lifestyle and health questions over a long period and allow the researchers to make sweeping conclusions. (Coffee = good.)

The study that appeared in the Journal of American Medical Association's JAMA Internal Medicine (JAMA is an acronym that I presume is inspired by Carl Carlton's iconic 1981 hit "She's a bad mama jama") found that coffee drinkers were 10 to 15 percent less likely to die in a decade than non-coffee drinkers. The study found that drinking more coffee didn't really make a difference, so it doesn't hurt you.

Take that, tea drinkers! Or 5-Hour Energy drinkers!

It's not a lone study.

Another British study (I love British medicine! Have you ever watched "Doc Martin?") found that those of us who drink three or four cups of coffee daily can significantly reduce our chances of early death.

That report reviewed more than 200 studies and said coffee consumption was "more often associated with benefit than harm," and said that even seven cups of coffee daily is safe.

The report by the University of Southampton combined information about the effect of coffee on various aspects of our bodies and found that three or four cups of java is ideal.

Here's a disclaimer: Health experts say people shouldn't start drinking coffee or increase their coffee consumption for health reasons, even though their studies show it helps keep us stay healthy. And alive. And energetic.

Although we should consider this possibility: Is there a chance that folks who drink seven cups of coffee a day just appear to live longer? That they die, but keep twitching around because of all that caffeine?

I'm not sure, but I need to run. Gotta make a bathroom run, then have another cup of coffee.

I guess I'm just a health nut.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Let's make baseball more exciting

America's national pastime may be past time. Baseball is floundering, according to critics.

This, of course, marks about the 50th consecutive year that people have said that. During that time, major league baseball has expanded, seen revenue grow and expanded its fan base.

But still.

Baseball is floundering, at least in the easiest way to measure it: Excitement.

As we complete the first weekend of the 2018 season's second half, baseball sees less action than ever.

Thanks largely to the development of new analytics (data! data! data!), baseball has become focused on home runs, strikeouts and such esoteric measurements as launch angle, defensive runs saved, spin rate and more. They all slow down the game, which is significantly different from the NBA, where the analytics revolution improved the game by revealing that the things we fans like watching actually help teams win.

Baseball? Analytics slowed it down.

Professional sports have a long history of changing rules to improve. Basketball added the 3-point basket and the shot clock. The NFL changed pass-defense rules and made field goals harder. Baseball added the designated hitter and lowered the pitching mound. Hockey . . . I'm sure hockey did something, too.

Baseball needs an update. This former sports editor has some suggestions for rule changes to make baseball more exciting in the smartphone era by adding action:

Pitch to your own team. This works in early youth baseball and some softball tournaments. The batting team sends one of its pitchers on the mound with a limited number of pitches per batter. Fans say this would minimize pitching, but I disagree. It increases the importance – it would just make it more about being able to throw to a spot the hitter wants, rather than throw it past the hitter. Automatic action!

Bigger strike zone. This is counterintuitive, but it might work. If the strike zone were over home plate from the ground to the top of the batter's head, hitters would swing more. Walks largely disappear. More action, although maybe it looks like cricket.

No pitching changes. One of the biggest culprits in baseball's loss of offense is the number of pitching changes in a game as we see a series of fresh relievers coming in to throw 95 mph. This rule would require a starting pitcher to stay in the game. The entire game. He gets tired? Teams get hits. Voila!

Punish strikeouts and home runs. Remember in "Bull Durham" when Crash Davis said that strikeouts were fascist? They still are. And home runs are selfish. So add a penalty to both the pitcher and batter when there's a strikeout (maybe a punch to the stomach?). And if someone hits a homer, they lose their next at-bat. You want to emphasize action? Punish the things that take it away and reward hits and action.

Gambling. This is the last refuge of the scoundrel, but how about this: Introduce ballpark gambling on where the next foul ball will go or how many strikeouts there will be or how long it will be to the next fair ball. In other words, make the lack of action the thing that seems like action!

Suck it up. Baseball has been around for about 150 years. It survived the Black Sox scandal, the Great Depression, the offensive drought of the 1960s, the steroid era and George Steinbrenner. It will survive this.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

The magical disappearing, reappearing Prius dashboard

I had the nightmare scenario in the smart car era last week: My 2005 Prius wouldn't turn off.

Seriously.

It all started when I came out one morning to find that my tire was flat. I dutifully put on the golf-cart-sized replacement, reminding myself that we should probably change a flat every five years or so to stay in practice.

I got in and pulled away . . . and my electronic dashboard was blank.

Out. Kaput. Nothing showing. The car was running, but there was no dashboard.

The middle-console screen, which shows an inexplicable combination of your current mpg and "the flow" of electricity in your system (probably fake) continued to work, but the main dashboard, with all the important information, was out. There was no way to tell my speed, how much gas was left or any of the other space-ace information that Toyota includes.

What the heck? The car is only 13 years old! This shouldn't be happening!

I told myself it might fix itself and began driving. I had to get that flat fixed.

I navigated my way to the tire store as if I had plutonium on board – in the slow lane, constantly seeking openings to park in if the car died (although as a Prius, it would be hard to tell. It's pretty silent).

I gunned through intersections (don't stop now!), pulled into the tire store and turned off the car.

Or tried to turn off the car.

It wouldn't stop.

It stayed on, evidenced by the middle-console screen staying aglow.

I inserted my key fob for the first time ever and pushed the button to stop the car. It still didn't stop. The buttons didn't work, now the key fob was stuck and I knew that dealers charge a lot to fix electronic problems.

"I'm sorry, Brad," I thought I heard my car say. "I can't let you do this. You can't turn me off. This is the deal we made when you decided to buy a 'smart' car. You're not very smart. Now I control you."

Or maybe I just imagined that. Regardless, I searched on Google for "Prius won't turn off" and found the non-intuitive series of button pushes to turn off the car . . . but no assurance that it would turn on again.

Panicking, I backed out of the parking lot and headed to the Toyota dealership, two blocks away. This was a catastrophe!

I pulled in and hit the combination of buttons. The car stopped!

A woman from the service department approached and asked why I was there. I pushed the start button . . . and the car turned on. The dashboard turned on. It was working again!

It was a miracle!

I embarrassingly asked her how to remove the key fob and she told me to push in, then pull out. It worked (another miracle!). I told her never mind, backed out and drove to the tire store.

The dashboard continued to work. Days later, it still does.

Was it a fluke? Did the dashboard death have to do with the flat tire? Did I touch a random button and cause it?

Here's all I know: It works. Hopefully for good.

I now know the sequence of buttons to hit to turn off your Prius when the car is stuck on. And I have a sneaking suspicion that my flat tired caused my dashboard to go dark.

Although maybe that proves that what the car "told" me was right: I'm not smart.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

We sold our longtime home, but can still visit

In February 1992, with our 15-month-old son along for the ride, we finalized the purchase of our first home, in Suisun City.

We didn't buy another home until this summer – after that same son and our daughter-in-law (our first daughter!), with their 5-month-old daughter along for the ride, purchased our Suisun City home.

Yes, in true dynastic fashion, the Stanhope family manor was passed to the oldest son. Although there was a Realtor and money involved.

Last week, I wrote about Mrs. Brad and me moving from Fairfield-Suisun (our home since 1986) to Walnut Creek, near my workplace. What I wrote remains true: We're sad, excited, nostalgic, nervous and optimistic.

But grateful, because our home passed to someone we know: our son and daughter (in-law), who were able to buy their first home.

The deal was striking for another reason: the Realtor who handled the transaction was Kitty Powers of Coldwell Banker Kappel Gateway Realty. The Realtor who sold us the home in 1992? Kitty Powers, then simply of Gateway Realty.

Same person, 26 years later.

In 1992, Mrs. Brad and I were unfamiliar with how real estate worked and scared and confused about the buying process. Twenty-six years later, our son and daughter-in-law were in a similar situation, although in this case, they knew the sellers (and had the internet, which answers any question). It felt strange and comfortable at the same time to be moving out of a house (with new-to-us floors, a new roof, a second bathroom, a new yard, new trees but plenty of old memories) with the help of the person who helped us get there.

I've written about our home before, so there's no need to go into depth about the sacredness of a place where you've lived  for decades: the places in the backyard where we played kickball and our dog sat on second base. The garage where our 12-year-old son removed most of his eyebrow with duct tape. The places where we kept Christmas trees and hid Easter eggs and played a thousand basketball games.

Now, the son who made many of those memories (to be fair, his younger brother made just as many, especially the endless basketball games) will raise his daughter there – at least for a while.

The two best things, beyond the pleasure in being able to return to our old home occasionally, about our move were these:

• Our neighbors were pleased to welcome the "new family" to the neighborhood, with smiles.

• Our beloved Brandy, the 10-year-old Weimaraner who occasionally fills in for me in this space, was able to stay in a familiar home with a familiar owner. We miss her, but know that she's better off in a Suisun City home with a big yard than a Walnut Creek condominium without one. Especially since she's near people she loves.

The Suisun City home is no longer ours, but hopefully our son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter will have as many great memories there as we do.

And in a few years (or a decade or 25 years), when the next generation of Stanhopes moves on, Kitty Powers will probably sell the home.

Until then, we can visit.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Mrs. Brad and I say goodbye to region we love

We arrived in Fairfield-Suisun on a hot Memorial Day weekend in 1986, married less than a year and excited for my new job at the Daily Republic.

We left Fairfield-Suisun on a hot June day in 2018 with a lifetime of memories and a love of a region in which we spent most of our adult lives.

Mrs. Brad and I now live in Walnut Creek, having left Fairfield-Suisun after 32 years – the past 26 years at the same address. We're sad, excited, nostalgic and optimistic.

And grateful.

Unlike some who leave town and complain about the region or about California in general, we love Fairfield-Suisun. It's where we launched our professional careers, began our family, raised our sons, spent most of our careers and grew from our early 20s to our mid-50s. We aren't fully gone – after all, one son lives in Fairfield, the other in Suisun City – but we are no longer residents.

Mrs. Brad's first exposure to Fairfield in 1986 came as we drove down West Texas Street, a few days after I accepted a sports writer position at the Daily Republic.

"Isn't it great?" I asked, enthused.

Mrs. Brad was battling illness. And West Texas Street looked a lot like it does now – strip malls, Allan Witt Park, storefront churches. In her eyes, it was . . . not great.

But we were on an adventure.

We found an apartment (a tight financial fit at $390 a month!) on East Travis Boulevard. We started making friends. We found a church. We moved, moved again and then – after our first son was born – moved into the home where we stayed until this summer.

We grew to love the community.

We loved the west wind and the smell of the Budweiser plant.

We loved Travis Air Force Base and Rockville Hills Park.

We loved the Suisun City waterfront and the mall.

We loved the proximity to the interior Bay Area and the seemingly endless supply of Wade brothers.

We loved our sons' mix of friends and the people in our middle-class, 1970s mass-development neighborhood.

We loved the Daily Republic and eating at the Athenian Grill.

We loved hearing the public address system from Armijo High School and seeing the carnivals at Highway 12 and Marina Boulevard.

We loved hearing the train go past and seeing fires in the wetlands west of town.

We loved going for walks around our neighborhood and shopping at Raley's.

We loved the Fairfield Fourth of July parade and the Suisun City fireworks, as well as the crazy neighborhood fireworks shows after the Suisun City show.

I became a defender of both Fairfield and Suisun City. When people from Vacaville or Davis or the interior Bay Area criticized the cities, I went to war.

I love Fairfield. I love Suisun City.

Now? We moved (gasp!) to one of the cities that I used to criticize for being too affluent and monocultural.

Our first nights in our new home were exciting, but melancholy. It's a new chapter, but it comes after the greatest, most unexpected chapter of our lives.

We moved to Fairfield from our hometown of Eureka in 1986, thinking we would live there for a few years while I built my professional resume.

We wound up putting down stakes there, raising our family, building a lifetime of memories and making lifelong friends.

We're no longer residents of Fairfield-Suisun, but know this: We are eternally grateful to have lived there and we will continue to be ambassadors for the region.

And our old home? Well, that's the subject of next week's column.

A cliffhanger column!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.