As I’ve covered on multiple occasions there are certain events, usually birthdays, anniversaries, and New Year’s Day, that help us mark the passing of time. We often get caught up in the day to day activities that have taken over our lives, but these events remind us that time is charging ahead. In 2009 I wrote about how, for me, one of these events is the act of purchasing a new computer. Well, this past weekend I discovered another event that causes me to stop and reflect; the Summer Olympics.
During a visit with some friends at home in Syracuse this weekend we got to talking about the patently absurd comments made by Ray Allen and Dwyane Wade in which they suggested that they should be paid to play for the US National Team. I don’t want to get into it because the very suggestion (whether it was just in response to a question or not) bothers me greatly. The conversation naturally led to a quick mention of the 2012 games this summer in London, which caused someone to say, “I can’t believe that the Olympics are right around the corner again.” Almost immediately everyone was in agreement about how quickly the past four years have gone. Maybe we’re all crazy, but it just doesn’t seem like four years have passed since Michael Phelps was dominating in the pool and the Redeem Team was being awarded their gold medals. I distinctly remember setting an alarm at my buddy’s apartment to wake up at the crack of dawn to watch the gold medal game between Spain and the US and it’s hard for me to believe that LeBron James played two more full seasons for the Cavaliers after that.
People always talk about how quickly their time in college went and I think there’s plenty of truth to that. However, as much as it seemed like my college years (2004-08) flew by I think I would make the case that 2008-12 elapsed even quicker. Not only did the time fly by, but things in my life have also changed drastically in that four year span. Since the summer of 2008 (probably the best summer of my life) I have had three jobs. Two of them only lasted for 3-4 months each, but still, three jobs is three jobs. I have lived in three different apartments and in June it will be four. I have also officially become a Connecticut resident.
While on the surface it might seem like things in your life are essentially the same as they were four years ago, in most cases they are actually considerably different. If you really stop and think about it I’m sure that you’ll agree.
I think college seemed to last a little bit longer than this recent four year stretch, for me anyway, because everyone in my social network (not to name a famous movie or anything) was doing similar things. We all had the structure of the school calendar. Classes, projects, papers, Christmas break, Spring break, summer vacation, etc. We were also all living the college lifestyle and obviously my college friends and I were all living within the same two mile radius. For the most part it was a shared experience.
Everything is a bit more scattered now. Not only do I have friends littered all over the country (Dallas, Chicago, New York, Boston, Baltimore, Denver, Atlanta, etc.), but they’re all making life altering decisions at a rapid rate. I have friends that have been married for over a year, friends that are engaged, friends with houses, friends with dogs, and a friend who's a year older than me that has two kids. Everyone also works in a different field. In college they may have had different majors, but we were still in the same place, so the differences were minimized. Everyone in my social network now has new stories, hobbies, friends, etc. It's still hard to believe, but all of these changed have ocurred since the Beijing Olympics.
While certain aspects of my life have changed in the past four years (where I live, what I do, who I hang out with, etc.) I still like to think that I’m the same person that I was back in 2008, but I know that that’s not the case. Not only am I now out of shape, but I also believe that I’m smarter (still waiting for that phone call Jeopardy!), more mature, more stubborn (if that was even possible), hopefully less arrogant, but there’s no guarantee of that, and a little mellowed out. I read more, I write more, and I probably watch more TV. I also rarely get hammered on both nights of the weekend. Plus, I know that I don’t have everything figured out, but until now I didn’t let anyone know that.
What’s weird is that I thought I knew it all when I was 18. Back then, though, I was just a naïve kid who thought that the key to life was “beating the system and finding the happy medium” (verbatim from my senior quotes). Now I don’t want to unequivocally say that I was wrong because obviously those words of wisdom still hold true in certain instances, but they are by no means the be all end all. At the time I was convinced that those two tidbits contained all the answers to life’s questions.
I guess my point is that that 18 year old kid who thought he was right about everything really didn’t know much. From 18-22 I learned countless life lessons that have made me who I am today. As cliche as it may sound, I grew up in my time in college. Ironically though, that 22 year old version of me also thought that he was right about everything. Once again he would go on to learn plenty in the years ahead. As much as college prepares us for the “real world” there really is no teacher like experience. Now at 26 I'm mature enough to admit that I don't have all the answers. I still have plenty of opinions, but that doesn't mean that I'm always right.
I now know that for whatever reason I stop and re-assess my life every four years. I guess it makes sense because high school lasted for four years, college lasted for four years, and now I’ve been in the “real world” for four years, but it took the mention of the 2008 Summer Olympics to trigger my quadrennial habit. Coincidentally there was a How I Met Your Mother episode a few weeks back where over the stretch of 15 years the characters watched the Star Wars trilogy in the years 2000, 2003, 2006, 2009, and 2012 and looked ahead to what their lives would be like each three years in the future.
Either way, I know that there will be immeasurable life changing events, lessons to learn, difficult decisions to make, and experiences to share before the 2016 Olympic Games in Rio. What’s really scary, though, is that by then I’ll be 30.
Showing posts with label Syracuse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Syracuse. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
He's Gone Country
So I watched the movie Country Strong starring Gwyneth Paltrow and Tim McGraw last night and I really enjoyed it. For the first time since Walk the Line I’m seriously tempted to go out and buy the soundtrack. In the interest of full disclosure I should tell you that I used to be a country music hater, but now I can’t get enough. There’s just a certain level of authenticity to the lyrics that adds a little something else.
Aside from watching Country Strong, country music has also been on my mind of late because it’s summer time. For whatever reason Summer and country music just seem to work in tandem with each other. When you think about sipping brewskis at a lake, beach, or what have you I’m guessing that you hear country music playing in the background. I would also argue that most people that I know go to more country music concerts than any other during the summer. In fact, two of the best concerts I’ve ever been to have been country concerts in the summer.
Now like I said, I used to be a country music hater back in high school, so I’m no authority on the genre, but that’s not going to stop me from ranking my top 50 songs. Please take my limited country music experience (roughly 7 years) into consideration before you judge me for including or not including a particular song.
50.) Tim McGraw- Live Like You Were Dying
49.) Toby Keith- Whiskey Girl
48.) Alan Jackson- Livin’ on Love
47.) Brad Paisley- Whiskey Lullaby- You know it’s a country music countdown when two of the first four songs have whiskey in the title.
46.) Lonestar- Class Reunion (That Used to Be Us)
45.) Alan Jackson- Back Where I Come From- When I saw Alan Jackson in Syracuse he played a video montage of all the sights and sounds of the city of hopes and dreams. The Carrier Dome, Syracuse University, the Dinosaur BBQ, etc.
44.) Tim McGraw- Don’t Take the Girl
43.) Keith Urban- Somebody Like You
42.) Jake Owen- Barefoot Blue Jean Night- My favorite of all the country songs out right now.
41.) Rodney Atkins- Farmer’s Daughter
40.) Craig Morgan- Redneck Yacht Club- My friend from Maryland introduced me to this one and he has some serious credibility in the country world as indicated by the Confederate Flag that he hung in his dorm room.
39.) Toby Keith- Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue- Any song with the lyrics “We’ll put a boot in your ass because that’s the American way” should probably be #1.
38.) Carrie Underwood- Undo It- Stop what you’re doing right now and watch the video. You’ll thank me later. PS- If she came out and said that this song was about Tony Romo I’d put it in the Top 10.
37.) Rascall Flatts- These Days
36.) Lonestar- Amazed- This one has wedding song written all over it.
35.) Big and Rich- Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy- I will always associate this song with the World Series of Poker back when it was popular in 2005
34.) Sugarland- Stuck Like Glue
33.) Toby Keith- I Love This Bar- “We got winners, we got losers. Chain smokers and boozers.”
32.) Trisha Yearwood- She’s In Love With the Boy
31.) Miranda Lambert- The House that Built Me
30.) The Charlie Daniels Band- The Devil Went Down to Georgia
29.) Lady Antebellum- Need You Now
28.) Mark Willis- 19 Something- Sort of a country music version of Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”
27.) Alan Jackson- Remember When- This song can be quite the tear jerker for an adult looking back at their marriage, children, etc.
26.) Kenny Chesney- Keg in the closet- Collllllleggggggeeeee
25.) Keith Urban- Days Go By
24.) Zac Brown Band- Chicken Fried
23.) Phil Vassar- Six Pack Summer- My friend RJ dubbed this as my anthem for the summer of ’06 because I used to show up everywhere with a 6, 12, or 18 pack.
22.) Taylor Swift- Love Story- You’re a liar if you say that you don’t like this song
21.) Sara Evans- A Real Fine Place to Start- Obviously Track #1 on one of my country CDs.
20.) Buddy Jewell- Sweet Southern Comfort
19.) Chris Young- Voices
18.) Alabama- If You’re Gonna Play in Texas
17.) Rodney Atkins- Watching You
16.) Kenny Chesney- Live Those Songs- “So I’m sitting on a side walk in Fresno.”
15.) Toby Keith- American Soldier- This song will make you feel for our armed service men and women. “I can’t call in sick on Monday when the weekend’s been too long.”
14.) Tim McGraw- Something Like That- For all of you casual country fans this is the BBQ stain song.
13.) Kenny Chesney- The Good Stuff- “He didn’t reach around for the whiskey. He didn’t pour me a beer. His blue eyes kinda went misty. He said, “You can’t find that here.”
12.) Mark Willis- Jacob’s Ladder
11.) Phil Vassar- Just Another Day in Paradise
10.) Garth Brooks- Friends in Low Places- Arguably the most iconic, recognizable country song out there.
9.) Alan Jackson- Drive- Who knew learning how to drive could be such a nostalgic event?
8.) Lonestar- My Front Porch Looking In
7.) David Lee Murphy- Dust on the Bottle
6.) Kenny Chesney- Young- “We were lighting matches just to watch ‘em burn”
5.) Rascal Flatts- Fast Cars and Freedom "Staring at you taking off your makeup, wondering why you even put it on. I know you think you do, but baby you don't need it. I wish you could see what I see when it's gone."
4.) Phil Vassar- In a Real Love
3.) Kenny Chesney- I Go Back- I think about 8 girls I went to college with used the lyrics from this song in either their AIM profiles or as away messages (remember those?) in the summer inbetween our Freshman and Sophomore years. While that would normally be a tell tale sign that I shouldn't like a song I still do. I love that the chorus is about hearing a song that makes you think of a specific time in your life and then Chesney explicitly references Billy Joel's "Only the Good Die Young" as being that song for him.
2.) Alan Jackson- It’s 5 o’clock Somewhere- If I worked 9-5 I think I'd make it a point to listen to this song everyday at some point to help get me through.
1.) Rodney Atkins- These Are My People- This song makes me think of summers in Syracuse with my highschool friends.
Aside from watching Country Strong, country music has also been on my mind of late because it’s summer time. For whatever reason Summer and country music just seem to work in tandem with each other. When you think about sipping brewskis at a lake, beach, or what have you I’m guessing that you hear country music playing in the background. I would also argue that most people that I know go to more country music concerts than any other during the summer. In fact, two of the best concerts I’ve ever been to have been country concerts in the summer.
Now like I said, I used to be a country music hater back in high school, so I’m no authority on the genre, but that’s not going to stop me from ranking my top 50 songs. Please take my limited country music experience (roughly 7 years) into consideration before you judge me for including or not including a particular song.
50.) Tim McGraw- Live Like You Were Dying
49.) Toby Keith- Whiskey Girl
48.) Alan Jackson- Livin’ on Love
47.) Brad Paisley- Whiskey Lullaby- You know it’s a country music countdown when two of the first four songs have whiskey in the title.
46.) Lonestar- Class Reunion (That Used to Be Us)
45.) Alan Jackson- Back Where I Come From- When I saw Alan Jackson in Syracuse he played a video montage of all the sights and sounds of the city of hopes and dreams. The Carrier Dome, Syracuse University, the Dinosaur BBQ, etc.
44.) Tim McGraw- Don’t Take the Girl
43.) Keith Urban- Somebody Like You
42.) Jake Owen- Barefoot Blue Jean Night- My favorite of all the country songs out right now.
41.) Rodney Atkins- Farmer’s Daughter
40.) Craig Morgan- Redneck Yacht Club- My friend from Maryland introduced me to this one and he has some serious credibility in the country world as indicated by the Confederate Flag that he hung in his dorm room.
39.) Toby Keith- Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue- Any song with the lyrics “We’ll put a boot in your ass because that’s the American way” should probably be #1.
38.) Carrie Underwood- Undo It- Stop what you’re doing right now and watch the video. You’ll thank me later. PS- If she came out and said that this song was about Tony Romo I’d put it in the Top 10.
37.) Rascall Flatts- These Days
36.) Lonestar- Amazed- This one has wedding song written all over it.
35.) Big and Rich- Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy- I will always associate this song with the World Series of Poker back when it was popular in 2005
34.) Sugarland- Stuck Like Glue
33.) Toby Keith- I Love This Bar- “We got winners, we got losers. Chain smokers and boozers.”
32.) Trisha Yearwood- She’s In Love With the Boy
31.) Miranda Lambert- The House that Built Me
30.) The Charlie Daniels Band- The Devil Went Down to Georgia
29.) Lady Antebellum- Need You Now
28.) Mark Willis- 19 Something- Sort of a country music version of Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”
27.) Alan Jackson- Remember When- This song can be quite the tear jerker for an adult looking back at their marriage, children, etc.
26.) Kenny Chesney- Keg in the closet- Collllllleggggggeeeee
25.) Keith Urban- Days Go By
24.) Zac Brown Band- Chicken Fried
23.) Phil Vassar- Six Pack Summer- My friend RJ dubbed this as my anthem for the summer of ’06 because I used to show up everywhere with a 6, 12, or 18 pack.
22.) Taylor Swift- Love Story- You’re a liar if you say that you don’t like this song
21.) Sara Evans- A Real Fine Place to Start- Obviously Track #1 on one of my country CDs.
20.) Buddy Jewell- Sweet Southern Comfort
19.) Chris Young- Voices
18.) Alabama- If You’re Gonna Play in Texas
17.) Rodney Atkins- Watching You
16.) Kenny Chesney- Live Those Songs- “So I’m sitting on a side walk in Fresno.”
15.) Toby Keith- American Soldier- This song will make you feel for our armed service men and women. “I can’t call in sick on Monday when the weekend’s been too long.”
14.) Tim McGraw- Something Like That- For all of you casual country fans this is the BBQ stain song.
13.) Kenny Chesney- The Good Stuff- “He didn’t reach around for the whiskey. He didn’t pour me a beer. His blue eyes kinda went misty. He said, “You can’t find that here.”
12.) Mark Willis- Jacob’s Ladder
11.) Phil Vassar- Just Another Day in Paradise
10.) Garth Brooks- Friends in Low Places- Arguably the most iconic, recognizable country song out there.
9.) Alan Jackson- Drive- Who knew learning how to drive could be such a nostalgic event?
8.) Lonestar- My Front Porch Looking In
7.) David Lee Murphy- Dust on the Bottle
6.) Kenny Chesney- Young- “We were lighting matches just to watch ‘em burn”
5.) Rascal Flatts- Fast Cars and Freedom "Staring at you taking off your makeup, wondering why you even put it on. I know you think you do, but baby you don't need it. I wish you could see what I see when it's gone."
4.) Phil Vassar- In a Real Love
3.) Kenny Chesney- I Go Back- I think about 8 girls I went to college with used the lyrics from this song in either their AIM profiles or as away messages (remember those?) in the summer inbetween our Freshman and Sophomore years. While that would normally be a tell tale sign that I shouldn't like a song I still do. I love that the chorus is about hearing a song that makes you think of a specific time in your life and then Chesney explicitly references Billy Joel's "Only the Good Die Young" as being that song for him.
2.) Alan Jackson- It’s 5 o’clock Somewhere- If I worked 9-5 I think I'd make it a point to listen to this song everyday at some point to help get me through.
1.) Rodney Atkins- These Are My People- This song makes me think of summers in Syracuse with my highschool friends.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Tennis Anyone?
You probably don't know this about me, but the sport of tennis has always been a significant (maybe not the right word) part of my life. I grew up in a well to do neighborhood just east of downtown Syracuse called Sedgwick Farms. While the houses in the neighborhood were nice and the people were generally friendly, there were only two things that really gave Sedgwick Farms a sense of community. The first was each year on Christmas Eve virtually every house in the neighborhood (outside of the few Jewish people) would light luminaries (white bags with candles in them) and space them out along the street. Quite frankly, they were a hassle that somehow my brothers and I always had to deal with. The other was the Sedgwick Farms tennis club. The club consisted of a two story clubhouse with a dining room upstairs that I've been in once (for a graduation party) and at least 5 courts made of red clay. I still remember taking tennis lessons there as a kid because we were required to wear all white, could only wear a certain type of sneaker, and our instructor's name was Hanz. I can still remember exactly what my racket looked like. It was turquoise Prince racket with blue strings (you could see a P in the strings) and a purple grip.
As I continued to get older I developed a minor passion for the game. In my driveway I would play wall ball (I know that's a lacrosse term, but I think it applies here too) against my garage for hours at a time. I wasn't even deterred by the fact that I broke at least half of the windows on the garage and soon after the ball would routinely go through the holes and I'd have to open the garage door and search for the ball before I could keep playing.
I don't know what it was, but I eventually stopped playing (and when I say playing I mean playing against myself in my driveway) for a few years. Maybe it was because I spent more time playing baseball, or that I got into lacrosse, or that when I played a female family friend who is two years older than me in tennis I got absolutely smoked and my confidence was shot. Either way, I got back into tennis during my junior and senior years of high school because we used to play it in gym class.
Eventually I started playing a few of my friends on a pretty regular basis. One of which I consistently beat even though he was 6'4 and would eventually play 4 years of college football at an Ivy League school. I never lost to him, but the matches were competitive so it was fun. There was another friend of mine who went on to play 4 years of top tier college basketball and 1 year of college football who, for some reason or another, I could never beat. There was no doubt in my mind that I was the better tennis player, but he was definitely the better athlete and his will to win clearly outshined mine on numerous occasions. Our matches were always close (we played best of three sets), but he always came out on top. I specifically remember having a triple match point in the second set (I dominated the first set) and blowing not only that, but the third set as well. To this day I have never beaten him.
During my college years I played tennis in the summer against a few of my friends (one of whom has a tennis court in his backyard) and while on vacation against my dad. For 2-3 years I didn't lose, but my friend who has the court in his backyard kept on challenging me. Eventually he beat me and I can only remember playing a handful of times after that. I'm sure that I've played my dad while on vacation a few times, but the last time I specifically remember playing tennis was during my junior year of college against a girl I had a crush on.
While I wouldn't say that I was ever any good at tennis I did enjoy the sport. I even spent plenty of time watching it on television. For example, I watched the Andre Agassi (who I just emailed to see if he'll come on the radio)/James Blake 5 set thriller in the 2005 U.S. Open in its entirety. Lately I've watched plenty of my girl Caroline Wozniacki. And of course, I've seen plenty of Federer and Nadal. Now before I get more into their "rivalry" I first have to mention a quick word about the #3 ranked tennis player in the world; Novak Djokovic. If you don't know how to pronounce his name now you will in a second. While doing the highlights of a Djokovic match on SportsCenter a few months ago the most underrated anchor in the business Robert Flores said this…
So back to Federer/Nadal. If I asked you, "Who's the best tennis player in the world over the past 10 years?" I'm pretty sure that most of you, assuming you know something about tennis or that you've at least seen enough Gillette commercials, would say Roger Federer. Now you wouldn't exactly be wrong. Federer has won 16 grand slams (6 at Wimbledon), which is the most all time, but Rafael Nadal owns him in head to head matches. The two "rivals" have played 25 times. Nadal has won 17 of them. They've met in the finals of a grand slam 8 times. Nadal has won 6 of them.
Federer will turn 30 in August, which in tennis is worse than being a 35 year old running back in the NFL, whereas Nadal just turned 25 and won his 10th grand slam in the past week.
All points considered, how can we say that Federer is the best tennis player of all time when his "rival" has dominated him in the course of their careers?
Here's what I think this is a case of. Once Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi retired tennis fans were looking for someone to carry the torch for the sport. They found their man in Federer and anointed him as the best player ever. Federer's elegance, composure, and championship pedigree fit the bill. Then after a few years of pure domination Nadal came along. He's quicker, faster, more agile, and more powerful than Federer. Based on the eye test alone it's clear that Nadal is the better player. Sure, some of that is the age difference, but people are still reluctant to admit it because they've already anointed Federer as "the best player of all time."
This is similar, again similar (not the exact same thing because there a few differences), to what's happened in the NBA. After Michael Jordan retired basketball fans were almost immediately searching for the second coming. Every time a talented shooting guard came up through the ranks people started making the comparison. Finally Kobe showed up and, fair or not, was anointed as the next Jordan. In fact, he tried so hard to be Jordan in the way that he spoke and played that people almost reluctantly said, "Ok, he's the next Michael." Kobe may not have fully lived up to the Jordan comparison, but he came as close as anyone ever has. After his 5th championship people were starting to put the two in the same conversation. But now LeBron has shown up and is on the precipice of his first title. He hasn't exactly owned Kobe in head to head meetings like Nadal has owned Federer, but I think it would be foolish, even for a Kobe apologist like me, to not admit that LeBron is the more gifted player.
As I continued to get older I developed a minor passion for the game. In my driveway I would play wall ball (I know that's a lacrosse term, but I think it applies here too) against my garage for hours at a time. I wasn't even deterred by the fact that I broke at least half of the windows on the garage and soon after the ball would routinely go through the holes and I'd have to open the garage door and search for the ball before I could keep playing.
I don't know what it was, but I eventually stopped playing (and when I say playing I mean playing against myself in my driveway) for a few years. Maybe it was because I spent more time playing baseball, or that I got into lacrosse, or that when I played a female family friend who is two years older than me in tennis I got absolutely smoked and my confidence was shot. Either way, I got back into tennis during my junior and senior years of high school because we used to play it in gym class.
Eventually I started playing a few of my friends on a pretty regular basis. One of which I consistently beat even though he was 6'4 and would eventually play 4 years of college football at an Ivy League school. I never lost to him, but the matches were competitive so it was fun. There was another friend of mine who went on to play 4 years of top tier college basketball and 1 year of college football who, for some reason or another, I could never beat. There was no doubt in my mind that I was the better tennis player, but he was definitely the better athlete and his will to win clearly outshined mine on numerous occasions. Our matches were always close (we played best of three sets), but he always came out on top. I specifically remember having a triple match point in the second set (I dominated the first set) and blowing not only that, but the third set as well. To this day I have never beaten him.
During my college years I played tennis in the summer against a few of my friends (one of whom has a tennis court in his backyard) and while on vacation against my dad. For 2-3 years I didn't lose, but my friend who has the court in his backyard kept on challenging me. Eventually he beat me and I can only remember playing a handful of times after that. I'm sure that I've played my dad while on vacation a few times, but the last time I specifically remember playing tennis was during my junior year of college against a girl I had a crush on.
While I wouldn't say that I was ever any good at tennis I did enjoy the sport. I even spent plenty of time watching it on television. For example, I watched the Andre Agassi (who I just emailed to see if he'll come on the radio)/James Blake 5 set thriller in the 2005 U.S. Open in its entirety. Lately I've watched plenty of my girl Caroline Wozniacki. And of course, I've seen plenty of Federer and Nadal. Now before I get more into their "rivalry" I first have to mention a quick word about the #3 ranked tennis player in the world; Novak Djokovic. If you don't know how to pronounce his name now you will in a second. While doing the highlights of a Djokovic match on SportsCenter a few months ago the most underrated anchor in the business Robert Flores said this…
So back to Federer/Nadal. If I asked you, "Who's the best tennis player in the world over the past 10 years?" I'm pretty sure that most of you, assuming you know something about tennis or that you've at least seen enough Gillette commercials, would say Roger Federer. Now you wouldn't exactly be wrong. Federer has won 16 grand slams (6 at Wimbledon), which is the most all time, but Rafael Nadal owns him in head to head matches. The two "rivals" have played 25 times. Nadal has won 17 of them. They've met in the finals of a grand slam 8 times. Nadal has won 6 of them.
Federer will turn 30 in August, which in tennis is worse than being a 35 year old running back in the NFL, whereas Nadal just turned 25 and won his 10th grand slam in the past week.
All points considered, how can we say that Federer is the best tennis player of all time when his "rival" has dominated him in the course of their careers?
Here's what I think this is a case of. Once Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi retired tennis fans were looking for someone to carry the torch for the sport. They found their man in Federer and anointed him as the best player ever. Federer's elegance, composure, and championship pedigree fit the bill. Then after a few years of pure domination Nadal came along. He's quicker, faster, more agile, and more powerful than Federer. Based on the eye test alone it's clear that Nadal is the better player. Sure, some of that is the age difference, but people are still reluctant to admit it because they've already anointed Federer as "the best player of all time."
This is similar, again similar (not the exact same thing because there a few differences), to what's happened in the NBA. After Michael Jordan retired basketball fans were almost immediately searching for the second coming. Every time a talented shooting guard came up through the ranks people started making the comparison. Finally Kobe showed up and, fair or not, was anointed as the next Jordan. In fact, he tried so hard to be Jordan in the way that he spoke and played that people almost reluctantly said, "Ok, he's the next Michael." Kobe may not have fully lived up to the Jordan comparison, but he came as close as anyone ever has. After his 5th championship people were starting to put the two in the same conversation. But now LeBron has shown up and is on the precipice of his first title. He hasn't exactly owned Kobe in head to head meetings like Nadal has owned Federer, but I think it would be foolish, even for a Kobe apologist like me, to not admit that LeBron is the more gifted player.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Poetry In Motion
A few "weekends" ago (Tuesday-Wednesday for those keeping track at home) I made my way back to the city of hopes and dreams. As always, my time there went by too quick, but it was very comforting. I don't get to spend enough time in the city where I grew up, but I know that my experiences there are always with me. That might seem a little too sappy for the first paragraph, but bear with me. In fact, I partially stole that line from a recent Mad Men episode. If you don't watch the show, you should start, because you get lines like, "When a man walks into a room he brings his whole life with him," on a regular basis.
Anyway, whenever I'm home I find myself reading a poem that my sister Maura wrote because it's posted on a cabinet in the kitchen. I'm not sure if she wrote it as part of a class or just of her own volition or if she followed some sort of structure or just wrote free verse, but it speaks to me everytime I read it.
I am from the side hall bench
Pass down cleats two sizes too big
I am from three stolen bikes and sidewalk chalk
Pine cone wars and the three-legged dog that could run faster than my brothers
I am from cops and robbers with the neighborhood kids
Salem Hyde Park and Sedgwick Farm
I am from watermelon and magic markers
From GI Joes and hairless Barbies
I am from Clifton Place and Brattle Road
I call On The Rocks my home too
Cook Ave block parties is where I grew
I am from lost glasses and blame it on Kackie
One of the three dudettes and young Uncle Tim
Marie and Irene and all in-between
From, “Stop it Danny!” to “Say CHEESE!”
To “That’s a dollar” and “Find me my keys!”
I am from the love of high school sweethearts
And four big brothers who give me pillars of support
From the girl that looks exactly like me
To the immeasurable connection
That makes me complete
I am from the dome
Sunnycrest and hot cocoa
From high school parking lots and football fields
Blue minivans and snow mounds
I am forever Syracuse bound
I am from Autumn stew and pigs in the blanket
Pudding snacks and freeze pops
Memories filled in a turtle sandbox
Ticket stubs and old mixed tapes
I am from photographs and newspaper scraps
Family videos capturing the “good old times”
For all of time.
In case you didn't pick up on it, the poem is essentially about how she was shaped by her childhood experiences. Also, in case you didn't know she has an identical twin and the two of them used to play in a sandbox that was a large plastic turtle. Obviously this poem speaks to me because I shared many of her experiences, but that aside I like her use of personification and love the lines "I am forever Syracuse bound" and "For all of time."
Now I haven't written a poem since my senior year of highschool. FYI- I was big into rhyming couplets. In fact, about 80% of the speeches I gave in my CAPS (Current Affairs/Public Speaking) class rhymed. So as I read Maura's poem this time around I thought about the things, places, etc. that I would include in a poem about my childhood. So a few days ago I began jotting down a few of those images, phrases, places, etc. and shortly thereafter I realized that I could probably also write a poem about my time in college. I planned on putting both poems together tonight, but I got an idea for a third such poem earlier today (I'll put the other two together in the near future).
I was at work, talking to my cousin who will not be named on gchat and he asked me when I'll be going back home next because he claims that he wants to come with, saying, "I need some dome (that's what she said) and Suds in my life." As he mentioned the dome, all sorts of thoughts and images rushed back to me. Syracuse University athletics have played an important role in my life. How important? Well, you decide...
I am from The Loud House
A Real Men Wear Orange t-shirt that’s ripped and faded
I am from storming the court 3 times against Pitt
6 OT’s against UCONN and Big Sh#@!
I am from standing and clapping until the first made field goal
Thirddddd down and “it’s good if it goes!”
I am from dome dogs and SUper 44oz soft drinks
Varsity Pizza and pitchers at Chuck’s
I am from 311 Heaven and the 2-3 zone
From “The ‘Cuse is in the house. Oh my God! Oh my God!”
To “We wouldn’t have won 10 fucking games!”
I am from Warrick’s block and the Brominski catch
Pace’s floater and Freeney’s sacks
From Coach P and Jimmy B
To Melo’s headband and Moten’s socks
Jonny’s smile and Spotwood’s returns
I am the dome ranger
Mr. Excitement and Otto the Orange
The Pride of Scranton and 6 first half three’s
From “Wal-ter Rey-es!” and “WE ARE S U!”
To Kevin Abrams picks and Donovan Darius hits
I am from G-Mac’s run in the Big East Tourney
Our One Shining Moment and big men coached by Bernie
From beating Georgia in ’96 on John Wallace’s three
And going deep to Johnnie Morant and David Tyree
I am from retired jerseys and championship banners
Along with 34,616 (or 49,249) of my closest friends
For all of time
Anyway, whenever I'm home I find myself reading a poem that my sister Maura wrote because it's posted on a cabinet in the kitchen. I'm not sure if she wrote it as part of a class or just of her own volition or if she followed some sort of structure or just wrote free verse, but it speaks to me everytime I read it.
I am from the side hall bench
Pass down cleats two sizes too big
I am from three stolen bikes and sidewalk chalk
Pine cone wars and the three-legged dog that could run faster than my brothers
I am from cops and robbers with the neighborhood kids
Salem Hyde Park and Sedgwick Farm
I am from watermelon and magic markers
From GI Joes and hairless Barbies
I am from Clifton Place and Brattle Road
I call On The Rocks my home too
Cook Ave block parties is where I grew
I am from lost glasses and blame it on Kackie
One of the three dudettes and young Uncle Tim
Marie and Irene and all in-between
From, “Stop it Danny!” to “Say CHEESE!”
To “That’s a dollar” and “Find me my keys!”
I am from the love of high school sweethearts
And four big brothers who give me pillars of support
From the girl that looks exactly like me
To the immeasurable connection
That makes me complete
I am from the dome
Sunnycrest and hot cocoa
From high school parking lots and football fields
Blue minivans and snow mounds
I am forever Syracuse bound
I am from Autumn stew and pigs in the blanket
Pudding snacks and freeze pops
Memories filled in a turtle sandbox
Ticket stubs and old mixed tapes
I am from photographs and newspaper scraps
Family videos capturing the “good old times”
For all of time.
In case you didn't pick up on it, the poem is essentially about how she was shaped by her childhood experiences. Also, in case you didn't know she has an identical twin and the two of them used to play in a sandbox that was a large plastic turtle. Obviously this poem speaks to me because I shared many of her experiences, but that aside I like her use of personification and love the lines "I am forever Syracuse bound" and "For all of time."
Now I haven't written a poem since my senior year of highschool. FYI- I was big into rhyming couplets. In fact, about 80% of the speeches I gave in my CAPS (Current Affairs/Public Speaking) class rhymed. So as I read Maura's poem this time around I thought about the things, places, etc. that I would include in a poem about my childhood. So a few days ago I began jotting down a few of those images, phrases, places, etc. and shortly thereafter I realized that I could probably also write a poem about my time in college. I planned on putting both poems together tonight, but I got an idea for a third such poem earlier today (I'll put the other two together in the near future).
I was at work, talking to my cousin who will not be named on gchat and he asked me when I'll be going back home next because he claims that he wants to come with, saying, "I need some dome (that's what she said) and Suds in my life." As he mentioned the dome, all sorts of thoughts and images rushed back to me. Syracuse University athletics have played an important role in my life. How important? Well, you decide...
I am from The Loud House
A Real Men Wear Orange t-shirt that’s ripped and faded
I am from storming the court 3 times against Pitt
6 OT’s against UCONN and Big Sh#@!
I am from standing and clapping until the first made field goal
Thirddddd down and “it’s good if it goes!”
I am from dome dogs and SUper 44oz soft drinks
Varsity Pizza and pitchers at Chuck’s
I am from 311 Heaven and the 2-3 zone
From “The ‘Cuse is in the house. Oh my God! Oh my God!”
To “We wouldn’t have won 10 fucking games!”
I am from Warrick’s block and the Brominski catch
Pace’s floater and Freeney’s sacks
From Coach P and Jimmy B
To Melo’s headband and Moten’s socks
Jonny’s smile and Spotwood’s returns
I am the dome ranger
Mr. Excitement and Otto the Orange
The Pride of Scranton and 6 first half three’s
From “Wal-ter Rey-es!” and “WE ARE S U!”
To Kevin Abrams picks and Donovan Darius hits
I am from G-Mac’s run in the Big East Tourney
Our One Shining Moment and big men coached by Bernie
From beating Georgia in ’96 on John Wallace’s three
And going deep to Johnnie Morant and David Tyree
I am from retired jerseys and championship banners
Along with 34,616 (or 49,249) of my closest friends
For all of time
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Man v. Food
On last night's episode of Man v. Food Adam Richman invaded the city of hopes and dreams in search of some good eats. Now I normally don't watch the show (despite my dream to one day be a competitive eater), but you better believe that I tuned in last night.
If you aren't familiar with the show, this guy goes from city to city and eats at three local hotspots. At the first two he just houses the signature dish and at the third he partakes in some sort of eating challenge. On last night's episode he dined at Dinosaur Barbecue, Heid's, and ate a six pound frittata at Mother's Cupboard.
In terms of picking the local hotspots from the city of hopes and dreams he did okay in my opinion. Dinosaur Barbecue probably has the most cachet out of any other Syracuse restaurant, Heid's is a very popular spot (although I'm a little surprised that it was chosen), and I don't know of too many eating challenges in the Syracuse area, so I guess he found a pretty good one at Mother's Cupboard (a tiny place that I've driven by thousands of times and have never been to).
If it were up to me I would have sent Adam to the two places that I miss the most when I think about Syracuse food: Tully's and Brooklyn Pickle. I would have loved to have seen Adam down some Tully's Tenders while enjoying a tall boy and then demolish a corned beef sandwich with loads of Russian at Brooklyn Pickle, but that doesn't mean that the episode didn't have highlights.
Case in point, look who showed up.
Not only that, but one of my brother Pat's best friends was one of the guys talking to Adam at Heid's.
Also, even though it didn't really fit in at all, Adam threw on some Syracuse lacrosse gear (including a #22 jersey....of course) and tossed the ball around with some laxers for a bit.
Now that Man v. Food has been to Syracuse (and Hartford), all I'm waiting to see is when he makes his way to Fairfield, CT.
Believe it or not, there's been talk among my college friends for a food related reunion of sorts in the town of Fairfield. The way it would go down would be very similar to a bar crawl, but instead of getting loaded at a bunch of different bars we would eat at all of our favorite establishments. This event would not be for the weak of heart. I'm talking at least six places over the course of one day.
The food crawl would start where we started many a morning during our college days; The Country Cow Deli. While there you would be required to eat a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich of some kind (with ketchup for me) as well as drink an Arizona Iced Tea or and an Arnold Palmer.
Breakfast would then continue at the sloppiest diner in America; The S&S Dugout, where this man would slop about a pound of butter onto whatever you ordered.
The S&S man
Actually I think his only responsibility nowadays is the toast. FYI- I'd order two eggs over easy with white toast, french toast, and corned beef hash.
Lunch would then commence at Archie Moore's right by the Fairfield train station. While there you'd start things off with an appetizer that many a man has turned into a meal. Just be sure not to spill the barbecue sauce.
After devouring some delicious wings, you'd be off to 1 of 2 Italian Deli's: A&S or Pranzo. A general consensus could never be reached as to which place was better (so maybe we'd have to do both?). Either way, if A&S was the choice I'd order a meatball parm with fresh mozzarella and get a death stare from the Italian guy with the mustache. If Pranzo was the pick, I'd no doubt go with The Trooper.
Post Italian deli, it'd be time for some Mexican. Where better to get authentic Mexican cuisine than Senor Salsa (La Salsa back in my college days)? At Senor Salsa I'd go with any of the following three options: the Quesadilla Grande without any black beans (trust me, I have enough gas), the Grande Burrito, or El Champion. If Adam Richman from Man v. Food chose Senor Salsa (and if he ever goes to Fairfield he should), he'd be required to get El Champion.
Next on the crawl would be Rawley's to get a delicious burger. Rawley's actually reminds me a lot of Heid's in Syracuse. I've even heard some people say that they've had "the best time ever" there.
Last, but certainly not least on the Fairfield food crawl would be the Ash Creek Saloon. They are known for their ribs, but I'd go with either the wings or the guacamole burger.
In the event that two people are still standing at the end of this all day eating affair, the score could certainly be settled with some dessert at Sunny Daes or with a trip to Duchess.
Now what I just ran through would be the varsity team's slate for the Fairfield food crawl. In order to increase attendance (because that's a daunting challenge), a JV schedule would also need to be created. Without going into too much detail, here is what that would look like.
Breakfast- Village Bagel AND Circle Diner
Lunch- Firehouse Deli (chicks got off to this place) AND Senor Salsa (it's a must)
Dinner- Joe's American Bar & Grill
My apologies for not mentioning the San Diego Chicken challenge at What's Cookin', but I've heard that it's out of business.
If you aren't familiar with the show, this guy goes from city to city and eats at three local hotspots. At the first two he just houses the signature dish and at the third he partakes in some sort of eating challenge. On last night's episode he dined at Dinosaur Barbecue, Heid's, and ate a six pound frittata at Mother's Cupboard.
In terms of picking the local hotspots from the city of hopes and dreams he did okay in my opinion. Dinosaur Barbecue probably has the most cachet out of any other Syracuse restaurant, Heid's is a very popular spot (although I'm a little surprised that it was chosen), and I don't know of too many eating challenges in the Syracuse area, so I guess he found a pretty good one at Mother's Cupboard (a tiny place that I've driven by thousands of times and have never been to).
If it were up to me I would have sent Adam to the two places that I miss the most when I think about Syracuse food: Tully's and Brooklyn Pickle. I would have loved to have seen Adam down some Tully's Tenders while enjoying a tall boy and then demolish a corned beef sandwich with loads of Russian at Brooklyn Pickle, but that doesn't mean that the episode didn't have highlights.
Case in point, look who showed up.
Not only that, but one of my brother Pat's best friends was one of the guys talking to Adam at Heid's.
Also, even though it didn't really fit in at all, Adam threw on some Syracuse lacrosse gear (including a #22 jersey....of course) and tossed the ball around with some laxers for a bit.
Now that Man v. Food has been to Syracuse (and Hartford), all I'm waiting to see is when he makes his way to Fairfield, CT.
Believe it or not, there's been talk among my college friends for a food related reunion of sorts in the town of Fairfield. The way it would go down would be very similar to a bar crawl, but instead of getting loaded at a bunch of different bars we would eat at all of our favorite establishments. This event would not be for the weak of heart. I'm talking at least six places over the course of one day.
The food crawl would start where we started many a morning during our college days; The Country Cow Deli. While there you would be required to eat a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich of some kind (with ketchup for me) as well as drink an Arizona Iced Tea or and an Arnold Palmer.
Breakfast would then continue at the sloppiest diner in America; The S&S Dugout, where this man would slop about a pound of butter onto whatever you ordered.
The S&S man
Actually I think his only responsibility nowadays is the toast. FYI- I'd order two eggs over easy with white toast, french toast, and corned beef hash.
Lunch would then commence at Archie Moore's right by the Fairfield train station. While there you'd start things off with an appetizer that many a man has turned into a meal. Just be sure not to spill the barbecue sauce.
After devouring some delicious wings, you'd be off to 1 of 2 Italian Deli's: A&S or Pranzo. A general consensus could never be reached as to which place was better (so maybe we'd have to do both?). Either way, if A&S was the choice I'd order a meatball parm with fresh mozzarella and get a death stare from the Italian guy with the mustache. If Pranzo was the pick, I'd no doubt go with The Trooper.
Post Italian deli, it'd be time for some Mexican. Where better to get authentic Mexican cuisine than Senor Salsa (La Salsa back in my college days)? At Senor Salsa I'd go with any of the following three options: the Quesadilla Grande without any black beans (trust me, I have enough gas), the Grande Burrito, or El Champion. If Adam Richman from Man v. Food chose Senor Salsa (and if he ever goes to Fairfield he should), he'd be required to get El Champion.
Next on the crawl would be Rawley's to get a delicious burger. Rawley's actually reminds me a lot of Heid's in Syracuse. I've even heard some people say that they've had "the best time ever" there.
Last, but certainly not least on the Fairfield food crawl would be the Ash Creek Saloon. They are known for their ribs, but I'd go with either the wings or the guacamole burger.
In the event that two people are still standing at the end of this all day eating affair, the score could certainly be settled with some dessert at Sunny Daes or with a trip to Duchess.
Now what I just ran through would be the varsity team's slate for the Fairfield food crawl. In order to increase attendance (because that's a daunting challenge), a JV schedule would also need to be created. Without going into too much detail, here is what that would look like.
Breakfast- Village Bagel AND Circle Diner
Lunch- Firehouse Deli (chicks got off to this place) AND Senor Salsa (it's a must)
Dinner- Joe's American Bar & Grill
My apologies for not mentioning the San Diego Chicken challenge at What's Cookin', but I've heard that it's out of business.
Monday, June 28, 2010
The Last Supper
About a month ago my brother Jimmy sent me the following text message....
"If I'm ever on death row, my last meal will be a cheesy gordita crunch combo"
For those of you that aren't aware (and have poor inferencing skills), the cheesy gordita crunch combo is a delicious meal offered by the fast food chain Taco Bell. The combo includes a hard/soft taco, large drink, and a cheesy gordita crunch. The cheesy gordita crunch is essentially a hard taco wrapped in a soft taco that is loaded with cheese and some sort of secret sauce. It doesn't appear on the menu. Instead it's periodically promoted about once or twice a year; however for those in the know, you can order it year round.
Naturally this text message got me thinking. If I was on death row, what would my last meal be?
A quick aside- I recently had a conversation with someone that had no idea that death row inmates are given this luxury (probably not the right word). This is common knowledge though, right? I mean, am I crazy? or is it shown in every death row related movie out there?
Now when it comes to choosing a last meal, I think there are three ways to go about it.
1.) Fast food- After eating prison food for 7-10 years, it's only natural to crave some greasy slop. I mean, if you're on your way to your death, why not enjoy some unhealthy food one last time?
If I decided to go down this path, I think I would choose one of the following four options....
-cheesy gordita crunch combo from Taco Bell (Jimbo really hit the nail on the head)
-spicy chicken sandwich meal from Wendy's
-double whopper with cheese meal from Burger King
-a double-double from IN-N-OUT Burger (I've never had one, but I've heard great things.
2.) Classy- Death row inmates are seen (and rightfully so) as the scum of society. After years of rotting away in a prison cell, I can see a death row inmate achieving some sort of peace. It's only fitting to go out with a classy meal to symbolize that transformation. Also, if you're allowed to ask for anything for your last meal, why not make the most of it and splurge for the best?
If it were me deciding to go the classy route I'd either ask for some filet mignon with scalloped potatoes or some chicken parmesan with rigatoni.
3.) Hometown favorite- I'm not even sure if this one is doable (unless you grew up near a big time prison), but everyone has a local delicacy that they particularly enjoy and no matter what, nothing will live up to the food at their favorite diner, deli or restaurant.
If I was in this position, I'd go with one of the following two meals from the 315.
-Tully's tenders
-A corned beef sandwich on white with lettuce, tomato, onion and lots of Russian dressing from Brooklyn Pickle
Again, if it were me on death row, I'm not sure which of the 3 paths I would take in regards to my last meal, but I'd have plenty of time to think about it.
Lastly, not only are death row inmates afforded the privilege of a final meal, but they're also allowed to say a few final words. There's probably at least three ways to go about that as well (remorseful, defiant, thoughtful), but that's a little too much for me to get into now.
"If I'm ever on death row, my last meal will be a cheesy gordita crunch combo"
For those of you that aren't aware (and have poor inferencing skills), the cheesy gordita crunch combo is a delicious meal offered by the fast food chain Taco Bell. The combo includes a hard/soft taco, large drink, and a cheesy gordita crunch. The cheesy gordita crunch is essentially a hard taco wrapped in a soft taco that is loaded with cheese and some sort of secret sauce. It doesn't appear on the menu. Instead it's periodically promoted about once or twice a year; however for those in the know, you can order it year round.
Naturally this text message got me thinking. If I was on death row, what would my last meal be?
A quick aside- I recently had a conversation with someone that had no idea that death row inmates are given this luxury (probably not the right word). This is common knowledge though, right? I mean, am I crazy? or is it shown in every death row related movie out there?
Now when it comes to choosing a last meal, I think there are three ways to go about it.
1.) Fast food- After eating prison food for 7-10 years, it's only natural to crave some greasy slop. I mean, if you're on your way to your death, why not enjoy some unhealthy food one last time?
If I decided to go down this path, I think I would choose one of the following four options....
-cheesy gordita crunch combo from Taco Bell (Jimbo really hit the nail on the head)
-spicy chicken sandwich meal from Wendy's
-double whopper with cheese meal from Burger King
-a double-double from IN-N-OUT Burger (I've never had one, but I've heard great things.
2.) Classy- Death row inmates are seen (and rightfully so) as the scum of society. After years of rotting away in a prison cell, I can see a death row inmate achieving some sort of peace. It's only fitting to go out with a classy meal to symbolize that transformation. Also, if you're allowed to ask for anything for your last meal, why not make the most of it and splurge for the best?
If it were me deciding to go the classy route I'd either ask for some filet mignon with scalloped potatoes or some chicken parmesan with rigatoni.
3.) Hometown favorite- I'm not even sure if this one is doable (unless you grew up near a big time prison), but everyone has a local delicacy that they particularly enjoy and no matter what, nothing will live up to the food at their favorite diner, deli or restaurant.
If I was in this position, I'd go with one of the following two meals from the 315.
-Tully's tenders
-A corned beef sandwich on white with lettuce, tomato, onion and lots of Russian dressing from Brooklyn Pickle
Again, if it were me on death row, I'm not sure which of the 3 paths I would take in regards to my last meal, but I'd have plenty of time to think about it.
Lastly, not only are death row inmates afforded the privilege of a final meal, but they're also allowed to say a few final words. There's probably at least three ways to go about that as well (remorseful, defiant, thoughtful), but that's a little too much for me to get into now.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Hockey
Hockey has long been the red-headed stepchild of the four major professional sports, at least as far as Americans are concerned. Now maybe I'm a little biased because I can't skate well and all of my hockey knowledge is based on NHL 2002 for PlayStation2, but logically, this makes perfect sense. For starters, the South isn't exactly receptive to the sport for obvious climatic reasons. With year round pleasant temperatures, outdoor sports like baseball and football are king. So right off the bat, half the country is genuinely disinterested with the sport.
As for those of us north of the Mason-Dixon line (I honestly couldn't even tell you where that is), hockey is relatively hit or miss. Much of this has to do with the fact that hockey is a sport dominated by the affluent. Simply put, hockey is an expensive sport to get involved in. Helmets, pads, sticks, skates, etc. are not cheap. This economic barrier prevents many from developing an affection for the sport. The easy, cheap alternative (probably not the right word anymore) is basketball. Basketball's rise in popularity as a winter sport has decimated the potential for hockey to grow in America.
Despite the abundance of logical data that suggests that Hockey will continue to be the laughing stock of the four professional sports, I'm shocked that it doesn't have more of a following...and here's why.
We'll do it live
Now I can't speak from personal experience, but from everything that I hear, hockey is undoubtedly the best sport to watch live. Again, this makes perfect sense. Hockey is an action packed, high paced game. Professionals have both incredible speed and skill and I'm sure that both are only accentuated in person. The game is also very physical. In your average NHL game you'd be sure to see a handful of bone crushing hits, hipchecks into the boards, and perhaps even a fight.
I imagine that another great aspect of seeing a hockey game live is the atmosphere. I've been a part of many a crowd that has gone nuts after touchdowns, dunks, three-pointers, home runs, etc., but I'd have to think that the wildest eruption would be for a goal. They don't come around very often, but there are a whole bunch of chances that must make the payoff for a goal that much better.
Another intriguing part of the live hockey experience is the potential to see a shootout.
Playoffs? Are you kidding me?
The playoff beard is the single coolest thing going in professional sports. Watching grown men bond over a commitment to not shave their facial hair (it's only their facial hair, right?) until they are eliminated from competition is just plain awesome. Job permitting, I think it's also very cool if fans of a team grow a playoff beard as well.
Lord Stanley's Cup
Yes, the fact that pre-dyke haircut Hayden Penettiere licked The Cup makes it that much more tantalizing
The Stanley Cup is the coolest and most revered trophy in all of sports. No other trophy is even in the same ballpark. Yeah that's right Heisman trophy. Eric Crouch and Jason White really hurt your street cred.
What makes Lord Stanley's Cup so great?
1.) If you're on a team that wins The Cup, they carve your name into it. As cool as that is, if you win The Cup multiple times, your name is carved into The Cup multiple times.
2.) The Cup is presented first to the captain of the winning team, who seemingly always hands it off to a cagey, old veteran who has never won it.
3.) Since 1995, every member of the winning team has gotten to spend a day with The Cup. Which raises one of the best sports related questions out there. What would you do on your day with The Cup? I'm not sure that I have a complete answer for that, but if I was fortunate enough to be in that position The Cup would certainly come with me to the city of hopes and dreams and it would most likely make an appearance at the Syracuse Suds Factory.
So hockey almost unequivocally has the best product to see live, the best thing going in all of team sports (at least in terms of camraderie), and the coolest and most revered trophy in all of sports, yet somehow it's popularity is minimal in America. What else could Gary Bettman and the NHL do to increase the sports popularity?
Well here's an idea, the basis of which that I first heard mentioned by ESPN Radio's Colin Cowherd, that would surely do the trick. Using pre-interleague play in MLB as our example, we would re-align the two NHL Conferences. No more Eastern and Western Conference. 15 teams would be placed in what would be known as the American League and 15 would be placed in the Canadian League. The two leagues would not play each other at all in the regular season, but every Stanley Cup Finals would be between an American team and a Canadian team.
All of the American teams would be in the northern half of our great nation because I don't think that teams like the Phoenix Coyotes are really all that practical. The 15 teams that would make up the American League would be:
New York Rangers
New Jersey Devils
Philadelphia Flyers
Boston Bruins
Hartford Whalers
Pittsburgh Penguins
Buffalo Sabres
Washington Capitals
St. Louis Blues
Columbus Bluejackets
Chicago Blackhawks
Detroit Red Wings
Minnesota Wild
Colorado Avalanche
San Jose Sharks
And the 15 teams that would make up the Canadian League would be:
Toronto Maple Leafs
Montreal Canadians
Ottawa Senators
Quebec Nordiques
Halifax Mooseheads
Winnipeg Jets
Thunder Bay Lightning
Regina Knights
Saskatoon Sasquatches
Sudbury Wolves
Vancouver Canucks
Calgary Flames
Edmonton Oilers
Karmloops Blazers
Victoria Grizzlies
PS- Congrats to the Blackhawks for winning the Stanley Cup for the first time in nearly 50 years.
As for those of us north of the Mason-Dixon line (I honestly couldn't even tell you where that is), hockey is relatively hit or miss. Much of this has to do with the fact that hockey is a sport dominated by the affluent. Simply put, hockey is an expensive sport to get involved in. Helmets, pads, sticks, skates, etc. are not cheap. This economic barrier prevents many from developing an affection for the sport. The easy, cheap alternative (probably not the right word anymore) is basketball. Basketball's rise in popularity as a winter sport has decimated the potential for hockey to grow in America.
Despite the abundance of logical data that suggests that Hockey will continue to be the laughing stock of the four professional sports, I'm shocked that it doesn't have more of a following...and here's why.
We'll do it live
Now I can't speak from personal experience, but from everything that I hear, hockey is undoubtedly the best sport to watch live. Again, this makes perfect sense. Hockey is an action packed, high paced game. Professionals have both incredible speed and skill and I'm sure that both are only accentuated in person. The game is also very physical. In your average NHL game you'd be sure to see a handful of bone crushing hits, hipchecks into the boards, and perhaps even a fight.
I imagine that another great aspect of seeing a hockey game live is the atmosphere. I've been a part of many a crowd that has gone nuts after touchdowns, dunks, three-pointers, home runs, etc., but I'd have to think that the wildest eruption would be for a goal. They don't come around very often, but there are a whole bunch of chances that must make the payoff for a goal that much better.
Another intriguing part of the live hockey experience is the potential to see a shootout.
Playoffs? Are you kidding me?
The playoff beard is the single coolest thing going in professional sports. Watching grown men bond over a commitment to not shave their facial hair (it's only their facial hair, right?) until they are eliminated from competition is just plain awesome. Job permitting, I think it's also very cool if fans of a team grow a playoff beard as well.
Lord Stanley's Cup
Yes, the fact that pre-dyke haircut Hayden Penettiere licked The Cup makes it that much more tantalizing
The Stanley Cup is the coolest and most revered trophy in all of sports. No other trophy is even in the same ballpark. Yeah that's right Heisman trophy. Eric Crouch and Jason White really hurt your street cred.
What makes Lord Stanley's Cup so great?
1.) If you're on a team that wins The Cup, they carve your name into it. As cool as that is, if you win The Cup multiple times, your name is carved into The Cup multiple times.
2.) The Cup is presented first to the captain of the winning team, who seemingly always hands it off to a cagey, old veteran who has never won it.
3.) Since 1995, every member of the winning team has gotten to spend a day with The Cup. Which raises one of the best sports related questions out there. What would you do on your day with The Cup? I'm not sure that I have a complete answer for that, but if I was fortunate enough to be in that position The Cup would certainly come with me to the city of hopes and dreams and it would most likely make an appearance at the Syracuse Suds Factory.
So hockey almost unequivocally has the best product to see live, the best thing going in all of team sports (at least in terms of camraderie), and the coolest and most revered trophy in all of sports, yet somehow it's popularity is minimal in America. What else could Gary Bettman and the NHL do to increase the sports popularity?
Well here's an idea, the basis of which that I first heard mentioned by ESPN Radio's Colin Cowherd, that would surely do the trick. Using pre-interleague play in MLB as our example, we would re-align the two NHL Conferences. No more Eastern and Western Conference. 15 teams would be placed in what would be known as the American League and 15 would be placed in the Canadian League. The two leagues would not play each other at all in the regular season, but every Stanley Cup Finals would be between an American team and a Canadian team.
All of the American teams would be in the northern half of our great nation because I don't think that teams like the Phoenix Coyotes are really all that practical. The 15 teams that would make up the American League would be:
New York Rangers
New Jersey Devils
Philadelphia Flyers
Boston Bruins
Hartford Whalers
Pittsburgh Penguins
Buffalo Sabres
Washington Capitals
St. Louis Blues
Columbus Bluejackets
Chicago Blackhawks
Detroit Red Wings
Minnesota Wild
Colorado Avalanche
San Jose Sharks
And the 15 teams that would make up the Canadian League would be:
Toronto Maple Leafs
Montreal Canadians
Ottawa Senators
Quebec Nordiques
Halifax Mooseheads
Winnipeg Jets
Thunder Bay Lightning
Regina Knights
Saskatoon Sasquatches
Sudbury Wolves
Vancouver Canucks
Calgary Flames
Edmonton Oilers
Karmloops Blazers
Victoria Grizzlies
PS- Congrats to the Blackhawks for winning the Stanley Cup for the first time in nearly 50 years.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Mid 20's
As of 5:24 a.m. (which, in case you were wondering, stands for ante meridiem) yesterday, I have officially been on the earth for 24 years and counting. Although, like most people, I love the adulation that comes with having a birthday party, I chose to keep my 24th rather low key. In fact, I rang in the dawn of my mid 20's at the office.
Of course I've had plenty of birthday moments in my day including, but not limited to: the party in NYC I had with my friend Kate last year, when my cousin who will not be named and an old roommate (the Raucc man) surprised me in the city of hopes and dreams for my 21st, when my 8th grade math teacher thought I blowing off a "find your birthday in pi" assignment, etc.
The celebration (or I guess simply the acknowledgment) of a birthday, at its core, is just a way to mark the passing of time. Birthdays are generally thought of as happy occasions, but they can also be seen as not so pleasant reminders that, whether we like it or not, time is racing ahead.
The sad reality of turning 24, for me, is that I'm now officially in my mid 20's (as I mentioned earlier) yet I still don't feel like a full-fledged adult. By the way, 20-23 is early 20's, 24-26 is mid 20's, and 27-29 is late 20's. You'd think by now that I would have achieved something or that I would have gained some perspective on something, but in reality I haven't.
I mean, I like to think that I have a pretty realistic sense of our world and my participation in it, but in the grand scheme of things I really haven't done a damn thing. In fact, I don't even have much of a plan for what I want to do/accomplish in the future (which can't be a good thing) even though one of my go to quotes is, "The reason most people never reach their goals is that they don't define them, or ever seriously consider them as believable or achievable. Winners can tell you where they are going, what they plan to do along the way, and who will be sharing the adventure with them." And by "go to" I mean it is one of 14 quotes that I have on a Word document titled "Quotes".
All I really know is that I'm passionate about two things: sports and writing. And if you tear away the broadness, I guess I'm really passionate about competition and self-expression. I think (at least I hope) that knowing this is all that matters. I mean, I still have no clue what I'll be doing in 10 years, but maybe that's a good thing.
I like sports for all the obvious reasons. I like watching them, I like playing them, I like talking about them, I like listening to people talk about them, I like learning and knowing about the people that play them, I like reading about them, I like writing about them, etc.
As many of you know, I currently work in sports. I love my job and would never in my right mind complain about it because I'm incredibly fortunate to be getting a paycheck to do what I do, but sometimes the work is pretty mindless. I'm still relatively low on the totem pole, so hopefully I'll be able to more significantly contribute to the content as I work my way up the corporate ladder, but as it stands right now I rarely get that sense of accomplishment, that apparently I crave, as I leave work.
Writing, or self expression as I called it earler, is sort of a release for me. If you couldn't tell, I'm very opinionated and I need an outlet for the multitude of thoughts that cross my mind. Writing gives me that outlet. The process itself sucks. I mean, sure, I like manipulating words and throwing phrases together, but rarely do I look forward to sitting down and composing my thoughts. Oftentimes it's a taxing, time consuming struggle to get things to sound the way I want them to. I do it because the end result is very rewarding. Almost all of the writing that I do (this blog included) is for my own benefit. I'm literally my number one fan.
Now I'm not quite sure where, if anywhere, writing fits into my current career path, but I do know that in my quest to "do something" I would like to tackle the challenge of writing a book (or 2). I've heard that it's a grueling, agonizing process, but I think that the sense of accomplishment that completing a novel would provide would make all time and effort worthwhile. I actually have some pretty good ideas too. One of which involves this awkward post graduate time period that we are all currently going through (better known in the business as a coming of age novel).
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A post at least loosely tied to my birthday wouldn't be complete without mentioning one of my favorite Seinfeld lines of all time:
From, "The Betrayal" (the episode that goes in reverse)
KRAMER: Hey, FDR wants me to drop dead.
GEORGE: FDR?
KRAMER: Yeah, Franklin Delano Romanowski. I go to his birthday party, and just before he blew out his candles, he gives me this look..
GEORGE: Stink eye?
JERRY: Crook eye?
KRAMER: EVIL eye.
JERRY: Well, everybody's a little cranky on their birthday..
GEORGE: Oh, it's a bad day. Uh, you got everyone in your house, you're thinkin', "These are my friends?!"
JERRY: Everyday is my birthday.
Jerry's line at the end is obviously the punch line and it's funny, but it's only my 3rd favorite line from the scene. My 2nd favorite is when Kramer says, "EVIL eye." If you haven't seen it then it probably doesn't resonate as much with you, but his delivery is impeccable. My favorite line, and one that I use quite often now, is George's, "These are my friends?!"
Of course I've had plenty of birthday moments in my day including, but not limited to: the party in NYC I had with my friend Kate last year, when my cousin who will not be named and an old roommate (the Raucc man) surprised me in the city of hopes and dreams for my 21st, when my 8th grade math teacher thought I blowing off a "find your birthday in pi" assignment, etc.
The celebration (or I guess simply the acknowledgment) of a birthday, at its core, is just a way to mark the passing of time. Birthdays are generally thought of as happy occasions, but they can also be seen as not so pleasant reminders that, whether we like it or not, time is racing ahead.
The sad reality of turning 24, for me, is that I'm now officially in my mid 20's (as I mentioned earlier) yet I still don't feel like a full-fledged adult. By the way, 20-23 is early 20's, 24-26 is mid 20's, and 27-29 is late 20's. You'd think by now that I would have achieved something or that I would have gained some perspective on something, but in reality I haven't.
I mean, I like to think that I have a pretty realistic sense of our world and my participation in it, but in the grand scheme of things I really haven't done a damn thing. In fact, I don't even have much of a plan for what I want to do/accomplish in the future (which can't be a good thing) even though one of my go to quotes is, "The reason most people never reach their goals is that they don't define them, or ever seriously consider them as believable or achievable. Winners can tell you where they are going, what they plan to do along the way, and who will be sharing the adventure with them." And by "go to" I mean it is one of 14 quotes that I have on a Word document titled "Quotes".
All I really know is that I'm passionate about two things: sports and writing. And if you tear away the broadness, I guess I'm really passionate about competition and self-expression. I think (at least I hope) that knowing this is all that matters. I mean, I still have no clue what I'll be doing in 10 years, but maybe that's a good thing.
I like sports for all the obvious reasons. I like watching them, I like playing them, I like talking about them, I like listening to people talk about them, I like learning and knowing about the people that play them, I like reading about them, I like writing about them, etc.
As many of you know, I currently work in sports. I love my job and would never in my right mind complain about it because I'm incredibly fortunate to be getting a paycheck to do what I do, but sometimes the work is pretty mindless. I'm still relatively low on the totem pole, so hopefully I'll be able to more significantly contribute to the content as I work my way up the corporate ladder, but as it stands right now I rarely get that sense of accomplishment, that apparently I crave, as I leave work.
Writing, or self expression as I called it earler, is sort of a release for me. If you couldn't tell, I'm very opinionated and I need an outlet for the multitude of thoughts that cross my mind. Writing gives me that outlet. The process itself sucks. I mean, sure, I like manipulating words and throwing phrases together, but rarely do I look forward to sitting down and composing my thoughts. Oftentimes it's a taxing, time consuming struggle to get things to sound the way I want them to. I do it because the end result is very rewarding. Almost all of the writing that I do (this blog included) is for my own benefit. I'm literally my number one fan.
Now I'm not quite sure where, if anywhere, writing fits into my current career path, but I do know that in my quest to "do something" I would like to tackle the challenge of writing a book (or 2). I've heard that it's a grueling, agonizing process, but I think that the sense of accomplishment that completing a novel would provide would make all time and effort worthwhile. I actually have some pretty good ideas too. One of which involves this awkward post graduate time period that we are all currently going through (better known in the business as a coming of age novel).
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A post at least loosely tied to my birthday wouldn't be complete without mentioning one of my favorite Seinfeld lines of all time:
From, "The Betrayal" (the episode that goes in reverse)
KRAMER: Hey, FDR wants me to drop dead.
GEORGE: FDR?
KRAMER: Yeah, Franklin Delano Romanowski. I go to his birthday party, and just before he blew out his candles, he gives me this look..
GEORGE: Stink eye?
JERRY: Crook eye?
KRAMER: EVIL eye.
JERRY: Well, everybody's a little cranky on their birthday..
GEORGE: Oh, it's a bad day. Uh, you got everyone in your house, you're thinkin', "These are my friends?!"
JERRY: Everyday is my birthday.
Jerry's line at the end is obviously the punch line and it's funny, but it's only my 3rd favorite line from the scene. My 2nd favorite is when Kramer says, "EVIL eye." If you haven't seen it then it probably doesn't resonate as much with you, but his delivery is impeccable. My favorite line, and one that I use quite often now, is George's, "These are my friends?!"
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Par for the Course
This recent stretch of unseasonably warm temperatures in the past few days has me fired up for Spring. Granted this pocket of warm air will most likely be followed by a few more weeks of sub 32 degree temperatures before it becomes the norm. Clearly my Syracuse upbringing has made me slightly jaded about this unusually warm week. In fact, during my college years I particularly resented the jokers that would wear flip flops and pastel shorts to class during a stretch like this. Call it a minor victory, but this is one of the few reasons that I'm almost happy to be out of college.
My excitement for the Spring is perhaps felt most in my golf boner, which is almost fully erect now. The re-emergence of green grass has made me think of fairways that I surely won't hit. I'm particularly amped for a Spring/Summer full of golf because I purchased some new sticks with my fantasy football winnings (to the 4 females that may read this- don't judge me). A few weeks ago I went to a heated range with my cousin who will not be named (neither here nor on the blog he once wrote for) and let's just say that I have a lot of work to do.
I'm your typical golfer who shoots in the 90s (mainly in the 95-99 range), but dreams of one day consistently shooting in the 80s. My drives go left, my drives go right, I swing about 8000 times too fast, I don't bring my club all the way up on my backswing (or so I'm told), and I have a habit of 3-putting. Basically I'd probably be better off if I closed my eyes on the tees and greens. Even still, I love the game. I've even been fortunate enough to record 2 hole in ones in my day. They occurred exactly one year apart (on July 4th- What can I say? I love America) on a par-3 course close to where I grew up.
Although I've laid out my considerable flaws I believe that they are all fixable. At least I hope they are. As I get older and my hint of athleticism quickly fades into oblivion I will rely on golf to satisfy my athletic desires. If I know what I do wrong, I should be able to fix it, right? Unfortunately this wasn't the case for me when it came to basketball, but that was mostly because there were some athletic hurdles that I simply couldn't overcome.
Each new golf season (just like Spring) brings a new sense of hope with it. Every golfer thinks that they are going to be considerably better than they were the year before. After hardly improving, if at all, in 2009 I've learned that, much to my dismay, I'm never going to wake up and suddenly be a much better golfer. It's one of my favorite leisure activities, but in order to be good I'm going to have to seriously work at it.
Normally around this time I also get excited for the start of the Major League Baseball season. This year though, I hardly have a chubby. For starters, all of my fanhood energy is devoted to the best college basketball team in America. Secondly, the Toronto Bluejays, my favorite MLB team, are poised for another dismal year. In the off season they traded the best pitcher in the game, fired their GM, and decided to rebuild their farm system. This essentially means that they are giving up on this season, even though it hasn't even started (a method that I've become desensitized to as a Knicks fan), and are going back to the drawing board. In fact, the other day on Baseball Tonight ESPN 1050's Andrew Marchand predicted that the Bluejays will have the worst record in the league in 2010. I've even tried to pump myself up for the season by telling people that the Bluejays are vying for 5th place in the AL East (as if it's a good thing) and that no one is going to stop them.
Despite the low expectations for the only big league club north of the border I am still very excited for the Spring, although if the Knicks don't sign anyone of note and my golf game doesn't improve this Spring excitement might quickly turn into Summer bitterness.
My excitement for the Spring is perhaps felt most in my golf boner, which is almost fully erect now. The re-emergence of green grass has made me think of fairways that I surely won't hit. I'm particularly amped for a Spring/Summer full of golf because I purchased some new sticks with my fantasy football winnings (to the 4 females that may read this- don't judge me). A few weeks ago I went to a heated range with my cousin who will not be named (neither here nor on the blog he once wrote for) and let's just say that I have a lot of work to do.
I'm your typical golfer who shoots in the 90s (mainly in the 95-99 range), but dreams of one day consistently shooting in the 80s. My drives go left, my drives go right, I swing about 8000 times too fast, I don't bring my club all the way up on my backswing (or so I'm told), and I have a habit of 3-putting. Basically I'd probably be better off if I closed my eyes on the tees and greens. Even still, I love the game. I've even been fortunate enough to record 2 hole in ones in my day. They occurred exactly one year apart (on July 4th- What can I say? I love America) on a par-3 course close to where I grew up.
Although I've laid out my considerable flaws I believe that they are all fixable. At least I hope they are. As I get older and my hint of athleticism quickly fades into oblivion I will rely on golf to satisfy my athletic desires. If I know what I do wrong, I should be able to fix it, right? Unfortunately this wasn't the case for me when it came to basketball, but that was mostly because there were some athletic hurdles that I simply couldn't overcome.
Each new golf season (just like Spring) brings a new sense of hope with it. Every golfer thinks that they are going to be considerably better than they were the year before. After hardly improving, if at all, in 2009 I've learned that, much to my dismay, I'm never going to wake up and suddenly be a much better golfer. It's one of my favorite leisure activities, but in order to be good I'm going to have to seriously work at it.
Normally around this time I also get excited for the start of the Major League Baseball season. This year though, I hardly have a chubby. For starters, all of my fanhood energy is devoted to the best college basketball team in America. Secondly, the Toronto Bluejays, my favorite MLB team, are poised for another dismal year. In the off season they traded the best pitcher in the game, fired their GM, and decided to rebuild their farm system. This essentially means that they are giving up on this season, even though it hasn't even started (a method that I've become desensitized to as a Knicks fan), and are going back to the drawing board. In fact, the other day on Baseball Tonight ESPN 1050's Andrew Marchand predicted that the Bluejays will have the worst record in the league in 2010. I've even tried to pump myself up for the season by telling people that the Bluejays are vying for 5th place in the AL East (as if it's a good thing) and that no one is going to stop them.
Despite the low expectations for the only big league club north of the border I am still very excited for the Spring, although if the Knicks don't sign anyone of note and my golf game doesn't improve this Spring excitement might quickly turn into Summer bitterness.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Facts About Beer
I hate chain letters/forwaded emails. In fact, I hate them so much that I might add them to my running hate list. Last week my brother sent an email to my two other brothers, parents, and I about how the grammar school that we all went to is closing. I hit reply all and responded to the news in a lighthearted fashion, but if I had known the reprecussions of my action at the time I never would have done so.
Apparently my mother had never known my email address until she saw my response to my brother's email. The next day I opened up my inbox to find not one, but two chain letters/forwarded emails from her. I cringed at the sight of them. I mean, let's be honest, has anyone ever been excited to read an email that has FWD: in the subject? A few days later I returned to the city of hopes and dreams for the first time in months and while I was there I told my mother that I would not like to receive any more chain letters/forwarded emails from her in the future.
Although I thought my point blank, honest approach would rectify the situation, it did not. On Wednesday I received two more chain letters/forwarded emails from her. I, again, did not read them.
That all being said, 1 out of about every 100 chain letter/forwarded emails is outstanding. Ladies and gentlemen, this is that one. The following was sent to me by my buddy Hermo. He is an 8th/9th grade math teacher and one of the biggest boozehounds I know.
Beer contains female hormones.
This indeed is worrisome.
Last month, Wits University and RAU scientists released the results of a recent analysis that revealed the presence of female hormones in beer. Men should take a concerned look at their beer consumption. The theory is that beer contains female hormones (hops contain phytoestrogens) and that by drinking enough beer, men turn into women. To test the theory, 100 men drank 8 pints of beer each within a 1 hour period.
It was then observed that 100% of the test subjects :
1) Argued over nothing.
2) Refused to apologize when obviously wrong.
3) Gained weight.
4) Talked excessively without making sense.
5) Became overly emotional
6) Couldn't drive.
7) Failed to think rationally.
8) Had to sit down while urinating.
No further testing was considered necessary.
Apparently my mother had never known my email address until she saw my response to my brother's email. The next day I opened up my inbox to find not one, but two chain letters/forwarded emails from her. I cringed at the sight of them. I mean, let's be honest, has anyone ever been excited to read an email that has FWD: in the subject? A few days later I returned to the city of hopes and dreams for the first time in months and while I was there I told my mother that I would not like to receive any more chain letters/forwarded emails from her in the future.
Although I thought my point blank, honest approach would rectify the situation, it did not. On Wednesday I received two more chain letters/forwarded emails from her. I, again, did not read them.
That all being said, 1 out of about every 100 chain letter/forwarded emails is outstanding. Ladies and gentlemen, this is that one. The following was sent to me by my buddy Hermo. He is an 8th/9th grade math teacher and one of the biggest boozehounds I know.
Beer contains female hormones.
This indeed is worrisome.
Last month, Wits University and RAU scientists released the results of a recent analysis that revealed the presence of female hormones in beer. Men should take a concerned look at their beer consumption. The theory is that beer contains female hormones (hops contain phytoestrogens) and that by drinking enough beer, men turn into women. To test the theory, 100 men drank 8 pints of beer each within a 1 hour period.
It was then observed that 100% of the test subjects :
1) Argued over nothing.
2) Refused to apologize when obviously wrong.
3) Gained weight.
4) Talked excessively without making sense.
5) Became overly emotional
6) Couldn't drive.
7) Failed to think rationally.
8) Had to sit down while urinating.
No further testing was considered necessary.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Movember
Today marks the end of Movember, a worldwide celebration of the moustache that aims to raise awareness for health issues that primarily plague men like prostate and testicular cancer. Like most causes, this is a great one (Does anyone ever say, this is a bad cause?). I mean, am I the only one fearful of the day that I have to endure a proctate exam?
Unfortunately my moustache only grows in faintly. It's there, but it's just not at all noticeable. Luckily, I know some people that have a little more going on under the nose and above the lips. So in honor of Movember, here they are:
Matty K
Jimmy Jam
Jess
Pete
Of course, a post about moustaches would not be complete without mentioning former Toronto Bluejays/Syracuse Chiefs great Sal Fasano.
Sal spent his entire big league career as a journeyman backup catcher and left an indellible mark wherever he went. He wasn't much of a hitter, but he worked well with pitchers and was a great guy to have in the clubhouse. In fact, Sal worked so well with pitchers that former closer Tom "Flash" Gordon once said, "There's nobody I'd rather throw to than Sal Fasano."
A few years ago Sal was thinking about retiring, but his third child was born with hypoplastic left heart syndrome (the left side of his heart didn't fully develop) and the medical bills were not cheap. Although his body was quickly deteriorating, he continued playing baseball in order to provide for his family.
"It's often hard to get out of bed ... hard to want to go to the field....My wife is home with the kids, serving as a mother and a father. You can't help but question your sanity. You're driven by one thing -- hope."
He signed a minor league contract with the Bluejays in 2007 knowing that he would need to get called up at some point during the season in order to qualify for the Major League health insurance plan. He spent much of the season in the city of hopes and dreams playing for the Chiefs, but did get called up to play in 16 games for the Jays that year. Sal then rolled the dice again in 2008, this time with the Cleveland Indians, and was fortunate enough to play in 15 games that year for the Tribe.
"We need the coverage. Playing major league baseball is awesome. I love it, I enjoy it. But this is about my family first. About Santo (his son)."
This past season Sal signed a minor league contract with Colorado Rockies, but was never called up to the big leagues. This unfortunately meant that he and his family were stuck with the Minor League health insurance plan, which isn't terrible, but it doesn't cover all of the procedures that may be necessary for his son.
Knowing that his chances of ever making it back to the show were bleak, Sal officially retired and last week was named the manager of the Toronto Bluejays' Single A affiliate: the Lansing Lugnuts (I couldn't make that up if I tried).
Surely, based on his track record of working with pitchers at every level Sal will make a phenomenal manager (most former catchers are). I'd love it if he burst onto the scene like Joe Girardi, but that's probably a bit too much to ask. I'm just happy that the future stars of my favorite baseball franchise will be taught by such a great person.
"When I think of Sal Fasano, I think of greatness. Not of Willie Mays or Ted Williams greatness, but of a uniquely excellent human being who, were class and decency the most valued standards of a career, would be the easiest Hall of Fame inductee of all time." - ESPN.Com's Jeff Pearlman
Unfortunately my moustache only grows in faintly. It's there, but it's just not at all noticeable. Luckily, I know some people that have a little more going on under the nose and above the lips. So in honor of Movember, here they are:
Matty K
Jimmy Jam
Jess
Pete
Of course, a post about moustaches would not be complete without mentioning former Toronto Bluejays/Syracuse Chiefs great Sal Fasano.
Sal spent his entire big league career as a journeyman backup catcher and left an indellible mark wherever he went. He wasn't much of a hitter, but he worked well with pitchers and was a great guy to have in the clubhouse. In fact, Sal worked so well with pitchers that former closer Tom "Flash" Gordon once said, "There's nobody I'd rather throw to than Sal Fasano."
A few years ago Sal was thinking about retiring, but his third child was born with hypoplastic left heart syndrome (the left side of his heart didn't fully develop) and the medical bills were not cheap. Although his body was quickly deteriorating, he continued playing baseball in order to provide for his family.
"It's often hard to get out of bed ... hard to want to go to the field....My wife is home with the kids, serving as a mother and a father. You can't help but question your sanity. You're driven by one thing -- hope."
He signed a minor league contract with the Bluejays in 2007 knowing that he would need to get called up at some point during the season in order to qualify for the Major League health insurance plan. He spent much of the season in the city of hopes and dreams playing for the Chiefs, but did get called up to play in 16 games for the Jays that year. Sal then rolled the dice again in 2008, this time with the Cleveland Indians, and was fortunate enough to play in 15 games that year for the Tribe.
"We need the coverage. Playing major league baseball is awesome. I love it, I enjoy it. But this is about my family first. About Santo (his son)."
This past season Sal signed a minor league contract with Colorado Rockies, but was never called up to the big leagues. This unfortunately meant that he and his family were stuck with the Minor League health insurance plan, which isn't terrible, but it doesn't cover all of the procedures that may be necessary for his son.
Knowing that his chances of ever making it back to the show were bleak, Sal officially retired and last week was named the manager of the Toronto Bluejays' Single A affiliate: the Lansing Lugnuts (I couldn't make that up if I tried).
Surely, based on his track record of working with pitchers at every level Sal will make a phenomenal manager (most former catchers are). I'd love it if he burst onto the scene like Joe Girardi, but that's probably a bit too much to ask. I'm just happy that the future stars of my favorite baseball franchise will be taught by such a great person.
"When I think of Sal Fasano, I think of greatness. Not of Willie Mays or Ted Williams greatness, but of a uniquely excellent human being who, were class and decency the most valued standards of a career, would be the easiest Hall of Fame inductee of all time." - ESPN.Com's Jeff Pearlman
Thursday, October 1, 2009
The Wonder Years
The truth about growing up is that there's a bit of sad irony involved. What I mean is that when we were kids we couldn't wait to be adults, but now that we are I think most of us wish we could go back. Or at least most of us wish that we were still free to live like we did when we were kids. As kids adulthood seemed so appealing. There were all sorts of things, like driving for example, that we couldn't wait to grow up and do. As fate would have it, now it's childhood (i.e. growing up) that we glorify. Unfortunately, we can't go back in time and be kids again, but every once in a while we are lucky enough to get a taste of what our formative years were like.
This past weekend I went to Long Island and met up with some of my friends from high school. They were all going to the Red Sox/Yankees game on Saturday and ironically enough I was working on that very game from a studio in CT, but I still made the trip down to hang out with them on Friday night. Two friends drove in from the city of hopes and dreams, another friend took a flight in from Boston after work while still dressed in his business attire, and two others live and attend medical school together in LI.
Now even though driving through the NYC area during rush hour on a Friday may have been one of the worst decisions that I've ever made, I'm glad that I went. I hadn't seen or really even talked to any of these friends in months, so it was great to hang out with them for a few hours.
As old friends often do, we sat around and caught up with each other's lives while throwing back a few cold ones. Naturally we mixed in plenty of stories about our old high school days and as we laughed and reminisced it literally felt like we were all still 17. In fact, after a verbal exchange with the lone female of the group (one of the med school students) one friend remarked that it was comforting to know that some people haven't changed a bit. Shortly thereafter he and I discussed how much time had passed since we all really became friends in 10th grade (8 years).
This conversation has stuck with me ever since. First and foremost, I couldn't have agreed any more with his comment. It's a good feeling when someone acts in the very way that you remember them. Knowing that they are being themselves puts a smile on your face. Too often in the real world we have to deal with people that put up a facade of formalness to impress their boss/co-workers. I mean, I get that you should always be conscious of putting your best foot forward in the workplace, but some people are just so uptight that they never let their guard down and their personality out.
Now even though I too got that sense that none of us had really changed since highschool, I’m quite certain that we all actually have to some degree. Whether we know it or not, our environment and varied life experiences are constantly shaping us into the people that we are today. Our personalities are by no means static. For example, I am unquestionably older, wiser, and perhaps even a bit more mature than I was in high school.
We get the sense that our old friends haven’t changed because we are able to recognize a few personality traits that they still exhibit. For example, I am still both unbearably loud and arrogant. Maybe these are a few of the fundamentals of my personality and only the extraneous aspects of my personality change. I don’t really know for sure.
"We did not change as we grew older, we just became more clearly ourselves."
As I thought more and more about this I realized that while the roots of our personality may never change, virtually all other aspects of our lives inevitably will. And change is scary. Change brings new people, new places, and new challenges. If we are in a place long enough we start to develop a routine and we get comfortable with it, but change takes us right out of that comfort zone. That's why we get butterflies in our stomach on job interviews, on our first day at a new job, and when we first go off to college.
Believe it or not change happens even faster in the real world. People you grew up with move to different cities. They work in different industries. They have roommates, make new friends. They date people you've never met, or let alone heard of. They get caught up with their new and busier lives and find it harder and harder to find the time to cultivate old friendships.
It's just something that happens. Friendships fade. Once you are out of college the ties you have to your old friends begin to fray. You don't keep in touch with half the people you thought you would. High school and college gave us all the same structure. The process was something that we all had in common. It was something for us to bond over. Once the structure is gone, people start veering off in completely different directions.
If you stop and think about it, it should really come as no surprise. The future brings with it a multitude of life altering choices and we will undoubtedly choose drastically different paths than many of our peers.
Luckily I'm still young enough where the ties to my old friends are still intact, but I know that big changes are on the horizon. Once people start getting married and having kids (we aren't that far away from this becoming a reality) their lives will become totally different. Their values will change. They'll yearn for the little free time that they had in their early 20's. In most cases, they'll probably turn into slightly different variations of their parents. As time marches ahead it's important to remember that people's lives might change, but rarely do the people.
"The friends who grew up with you deserve a special respect. The ones who stuck by you shoulder to shoulder, in a time where nothing was certain, all life lay ahead, and every road led home." -The Wonder Years
A quick aside, am I the only one that was the under the impression that Winnie Cooper was Asian?
Your friends from highschool, and certainly many of your friends from college, know you right down to the core of your personality. Something about this kind of relationship is able to stand the test of time. I think I've mentioned this before, but during the last few weeks of my senior year of college one of my friends said, "You're the type of kid I could not talk to for 3 years, but if we ran into each other we'd just pick right up and not miss a beat." Now I'm paraphrasing of course, but when he originally said it I wasn't sure how to take it. Only after the fact did I realize that it was actually quite a compliment.
"The truth is, you have your oldest friends in life, and then you have everyone else. Nothing will trump your oldest friends. Any amount of time can pass without you feeling as if you've grown apart because, really, you can't. It's like a plant. You just have to water it every so often and you're good." -ESPN.Com's Bill Simmons
Even if we haven't seen our oldest friends in weeks, months, or years we still somehow fall right back into the same rhythms of conversation. We interact just like we always have. The conversations may have changed, but the people having them are relatively the same. And this, indeed, is comforting.
This past weekend I went to Long Island and met up with some of my friends from high school. They were all going to the Red Sox/Yankees game on Saturday and ironically enough I was working on that very game from a studio in CT, but I still made the trip down to hang out with them on Friday night. Two friends drove in from the city of hopes and dreams, another friend took a flight in from Boston after work while still dressed in his business attire, and two others live and attend medical school together in LI.
Now even though driving through the NYC area during rush hour on a Friday may have been one of the worst decisions that I've ever made, I'm glad that I went. I hadn't seen or really even talked to any of these friends in months, so it was great to hang out with them for a few hours.
As old friends often do, we sat around and caught up with each other's lives while throwing back a few cold ones. Naturally we mixed in plenty of stories about our old high school days and as we laughed and reminisced it literally felt like we were all still 17. In fact, after a verbal exchange with the lone female of the group (one of the med school students) one friend remarked that it was comforting to know that some people haven't changed a bit. Shortly thereafter he and I discussed how much time had passed since we all really became friends in 10th grade (8 years).
This conversation has stuck with me ever since. First and foremost, I couldn't have agreed any more with his comment. It's a good feeling when someone acts in the very way that you remember them. Knowing that they are being themselves puts a smile on your face. Too often in the real world we have to deal with people that put up a facade of formalness to impress their boss/co-workers. I mean, I get that you should always be conscious of putting your best foot forward in the workplace, but some people are just so uptight that they never let their guard down and their personality out.
Now even though I too got that sense that none of us had really changed since highschool, I’m quite certain that we all actually have to some degree. Whether we know it or not, our environment and varied life experiences are constantly shaping us into the people that we are today. Our personalities are by no means static. For example, I am unquestionably older, wiser, and perhaps even a bit more mature than I was in high school.
We get the sense that our old friends haven’t changed because we are able to recognize a few personality traits that they still exhibit. For example, I am still both unbearably loud and arrogant. Maybe these are a few of the fundamentals of my personality and only the extraneous aspects of my personality change. I don’t really know for sure.
"We did not change as we grew older, we just became more clearly ourselves."
As I thought more and more about this I realized that while the roots of our personality may never change, virtually all other aspects of our lives inevitably will. And change is scary. Change brings new people, new places, and new challenges. If we are in a place long enough we start to develop a routine and we get comfortable with it, but change takes us right out of that comfort zone. That's why we get butterflies in our stomach on job interviews, on our first day at a new job, and when we first go off to college.
Believe it or not change happens even faster in the real world. People you grew up with move to different cities. They work in different industries. They have roommates, make new friends. They date people you've never met, or let alone heard of. They get caught up with their new and busier lives and find it harder and harder to find the time to cultivate old friendships.
It's just something that happens. Friendships fade. Once you are out of college the ties you have to your old friends begin to fray. You don't keep in touch with half the people you thought you would. High school and college gave us all the same structure. The process was something that we all had in common. It was something for us to bond over. Once the structure is gone, people start veering off in completely different directions.
If you stop and think about it, it should really come as no surprise. The future brings with it a multitude of life altering choices and we will undoubtedly choose drastically different paths than many of our peers.
Luckily I'm still young enough where the ties to my old friends are still intact, but I know that big changes are on the horizon. Once people start getting married and having kids (we aren't that far away from this becoming a reality) their lives will become totally different. Their values will change. They'll yearn for the little free time that they had in their early 20's. In most cases, they'll probably turn into slightly different variations of their parents. As time marches ahead it's important to remember that people's lives might change, but rarely do the people.
"The friends who grew up with you deserve a special respect. The ones who stuck by you shoulder to shoulder, in a time where nothing was certain, all life lay ahead, and every road led home." -The Wonder Years
A quick aside, am I the only one that was the under the impression that Winnie Cooper was Asian?
Your friends from highschool, and certainly many of your friends from college, know you right down to the core of your personality. Something about this kind of relationship is able to stand the test of time. I think I've mentioned this before, but during the last few weeks of my senior year of college one of my friends said, "You're the type of kid I could not talk to for 3 years, but if we ran into each other we'd just pick right up and not miss a beat." Now I'm paraphrasing of course, but when he originally said it I wasn't sure how to take it. Only after the fact did I realize that it was actually quite a compliment.
"The truth is, you have your oldest friends in life, and then you have everyone else. Nothing will trump your oldest friends. Any amount of time can pass without you feeling as if you've grown apart because, really, you can't. It's like a plant. You just have to water it every so often and you're good." -ESPN.Com's Bill Simmons
Even if we haven't seen our oldest friends in weeks, months, or years we still somehow fall right back into the same rhythms of conversation. We interact just like we always have. The conversations may have changed, but the people having them are relatively the same. And this, indeed, is comforting.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Looking Back at Last Weekend
I’ve been in a fantasy football league with my friends from highschool for the past 9 years. Back in January a few of my friends decided that we should get together for a weekend in late August for our draft. The thought was, if we start this fantasy football guy’s weekend tradition now, in 10 years when we’re married with kids we can tell our wives that it’s something that we’ve always done and that will make it harder for them to prevent us from going. Also, a few of us have moved away from the city of hopes and dreams (Syracuse) so it would be nice to get together for a weekend to catch up, play golf, etc. Thankfully my friends had the foresight to plan this weekend back in January because it gave me a chance to request the weekend off from work (I work on weekends). Once we decided on the weekend we then had to decide on where to go. There was talk of Vegas, Florida, and Arizona, but low and behold we ended up in Ocean City, NJ because our friend Browny’s parents have a summer house there. Clutch not to have to pay for an airline ticket and a hotel.
As part of the weekend, my buddy Alex, who lives in Baltimore, started looking for golf courses in the area that we could play. It should be noted that Alex and Browny really championed the whole fantasy weekend idea. Now Alex, who works for M&T Bank, also runs a few sports websites in his free time. One of them is a sports handicapping site and for the life of me I can’t figure out why anyone would pay money to get Alex’s picks, especially because he occasionally asks me who I like in certain games, but apparently the site is profitable. The other site is more of a sports information, blog type deal. Now what you have to understand about Alex is that he is probably the most persuasive kid in America. I mean, he could probably convince a prostitute to pay him for sex. Okay, maybe not, but the kid is incredibly talented. He called up this real nice course in Ocean City (the #3 ranked course in NJ) and told them that he has this website and that he was going to be in the area in late August and would love to write a feature on the course if they gave him and his friends a discount on the greens fees. The course usually costs about $100 to play on a Friday morning, but they agreed to let us play for $25 each. They schedule our tee time for 8:20 a.m.
In the weeks leading up to the Ocean City weekend, Alex sent me a number of emails asking if I’d be interested in helping him write the feature on the course. There was no way I could say no after he saved me $75 so we tossed a few ideas back and forth and finally decided on a retrospective diary. I know ESPN.com’s Bill Simmons just unveiled a retrospective diary about his fantasy football draft weekend with his friends in Vegas, but that had no bearing on this post. I have the emails to prove it. I won’t get into what happened during our draft because it would take too long, but let’s just say there was an awkward moment involving girlfriends and blowjobs.
So last Wednesday I find out that my friends aren’t getting to Browny’s Ocean City house until 11 p.m. on Thursday and I have to make it there at some point because of our early tee time. It just so happens that Thursday is my cousin’s birthday so instead of sitting around in Hartford all day (which is what I usually do) I decide to meet him in NYC for dinner with his parents and girlfriend. I drive to my cousin’s apartment in Hoboken, NJ (my halfway point on the long trek to Ocean City) and take the PATH into the city from there. This is what happened from that point until the end of our golf round on Friday.
6:01- After circling the block five times I finally park my car right in front of my cousin’s apartment. Thankfully I didn’t have to parallel park, or else I might have been there all night.
6:03- My cousin calls to check on my status. It strikes me that on a day that I should be going out of my way to get in contact with him, he has IMed, texted, and called me. All I did was write a message on his Facebook wall. So much for being the best man at his wedding....
6:06- I creepily get changed while still in the driver’s seat of my car.
6:35- I get off the subway at 23rd and 6th. The restaurant is located on 22nd and 3rd, but I, of course, have no clue which direction that is. I follow my instincts and make a right.
6:39- After walking down what seems like the longest city block of all time I see a street sign that says, “7th Street.” Fuck!! I had gone in the wrong direction. Is it just me, or should there be signs when you exit the subway that tell you which direction to walk?
6:40- Instead of stopping in my tracks and turning around, I avoid the embarassment and casually turn onto 7th and then take the next street, which thankfully turns out to be 22nd, back in the right direction.
6:47- I finally meet my cousin on a street corner. He tells me that his parents are already in the restaurant waiting for us.
6:52- We meet up with my cousin’s girlfriend. I’m sweating profusely. She must think I just ran the NYC marathon. God bless her soul, she hugs me hello anyway.
7:02- We have an awkward run in with a girl we all knew in college. My cousin’s girlfriend does most of the talking, while me, my cousin, and this girl’s boyfriend just stand there waiting for the conversation to end.
7:07- We enter the Irish pub and although I’ve never been there, I feel like I’m in Ireland. For some reason there’s sawdust all over the floor. Without missing a beat, my uncle orders me a beer, a Guinness of course.
7:22- Our waiter, who has a thick Irish brogue, gives me a death stare after I order my corned beef sandwich on white instead of the traditional rye. What can I say? I’m only 50% Irish.
7:36- Round 2 of Guinness for my uncle, cousin, and me.
7:55- Our waiter tells us that he’s a 64 year old great-grandfather. I immediately start doing the math in my head and conclude that either his daughter or granddaughter must have given birth around the age of 12. Why was he so forthright with this information?
8:08- Our waiter brings over a bottle of Jameson and pours each of us a shot.
8:08:30- I take a whiff of my shot. Bad idea. My cousin rips his.
8:09- I man up and slam mine. I feel a slight warming sensation go through my body. A few new hairs sprout on my chest. Thankfully my corned beef sandwich stays down.
8:17- My Uncle asks if I want another Guinness. Can’t say no, right?
9:40- My cousin, his girlfriend, and I make it back to Hoboken and decide to meet a bunch of our friends at a non-descript bar for a drink to celebrate my cousin’s birthday.
10:15- I leave the bar because I still have a 2 and half hour drive ahead of me.
10:18- New York Yankees pitcher Joba Chamberlain walks into the bar that I had just left. My cousin and his girlfriend, who like Joba is from Nebraska, talk to Joba for a solid 20-25 minutes. If I was there I would have asked him either why he wears his hat with a flat brim or why the Yankees are babying him.
10:30- I’m lost and driving through Journal Square and Jersey City. Not nice neighborhoods.
11:20- I finally make it to the Garden State Parkway. Only 90 miles to go.
12:18- I go through another toll where I’m required to throw exactly $1 in change into a bin before I can proceed. I’m running low on quarters and have to dig for five dimes.
12:48- I finally make it to Browny’s house and all of my friends are sitting around the TV watching the Syracuse v. UConn 6 OT from this year’s Big East Tournament. I’m not surprised at all.
1:10- The four of us golfing at the crack of dawn the next day decide on teams. It’s Alex and Mikey vs. Hermo and me.
1:45- We finally all decide to go to sleep. I have been assigned to sleep in the master bedroom with Browny. Although the bathroom has ‘his’ and ‘her’ sinks, we take turns.
1:58- I think we are just going right to sleep because I have to wake up in 5 hours, but Browny and I start up a conversation. Somehow we end up playing a fascinating game. One of us would say the name of someone that we went to high school with and the other would have to say what they thought that person was doing at that exact moment. For example, I said Andy Whackel. Browny then said that on Thursday night at 2 a.m. the Whack Attack was in his parents basement, 7 red bulls deep, playing a version of Halo that hasn’t been released yet.
2:35- The conversation eventually dwindles down and I get some shut eye for the big golf match in the morning.
6:58- I get a text from Mikey that reads, “Now on the tee, from Fairfield, CT….” Even though I live in Hartford, I still appreciate his enthusiasm.
7:00- My alarm goes off. I notice Browny is no longer in the enormous bed. Why he's up that early, I dont know. Maybe he's just really excited for our fantasy draft that night.
7:31- Alex, Mikey, Hermo, and I pile into my car and head for Twisted Dunes Golf Course. It looks like it’s about to downpour.
7:42- The Arabic men working at Dunkin Donuts can’t understand us and we can’t understand them. The only one that makes any sense just repeatedly asks us if we want “HOT OR ICE COFFEE? HOT OR ICE??” After a lot of pointing and gesticulating they get 3 out of the 4 of our orders correct. Not bad considering, I guess.
7:55- We pull into Twisted Dunes and I cruise right past the bag drop while scanning for the clubhouse.
7:57- As Hermo, Alex, and I are putting on our golf shoes (Mikey is a sneakers guy) a man pulls up on a cart and takes our four bags for us.
8:00- We enter the clubhouse and pay our $25 for the round. I half expect the employees to give us a look like “These are the writers that we gave a discount to?” but they are over the top nice. Alex and Mikey each also buy a bucket of range balls. Hermo and I proclaim that we are cold turkey players.
8:02- Mikey, thinking that his coffee has run right through him, enters the bathroom. It’s a false alarm.
8:04- Back at my car, I mention how it looks like it’s going to rain for days. Mikey mentions that the guy in the clubhouse said that it’s going to blow right over. I say that every guy in the clubhouse says that, but Mikey assures me that this guy wasn’t just saying it because he was watching the Doppler.
8:06- Mikey, Hermo, and I walk over to the bag drop and try to figure out how much we should tip the guy that grabbed our clubs for us. In an unprecedented move, Mikey takes command and tips the guy $4.
8:10- As Mikey and Alex make their way to the range, it starts to rain. It gets pretty aggressive rather quickly so the Twisted Dunes staff directs us into the cart barn.
8:20- It looks like sheets of rain are falling from the sky as our tee time passes.
8:22- Perhaps a little too into guy’s weekend, Alex suggests for the second time that we run 200 yards through the rain and get an alcoholic drink at the clubhouse.
8:32- Alex sticks his 9-Iron up in the air outside the back of the cart barn as if it’s a lightning rod. I wonder what would happen if the club was actually struck with a bolt of lightning. It’s metal and all, but there’s also a rubber grip that he's holding onto. My parents always used to tell me that cars were a safe place to be during a thunderstorm because of the rubber tires. So I’m curious to know how much protection, if any, the rubber would provide him with? Food for thought, I guess.
8:45- No signs of this monsoon letting up.
9:00- Apparently the guy in the clubhouse wasn’t just saying that it was going to blow over because the rain is magically gone.
9:02- Alex persuades the starter to let us start out on the back.
9:08- Alex tosses a tee up in the air to determine what order we will tee off in. Mikey sprays way right. I don’t go as far right, but I still have to take a drop. Alex’s ball doesn’t get airborne and ends up in the thick brush right in front of us. Hermo does the same. We are all thankful that no one was watching.
9:10- Twisted Dunes must have a really nice drainage system because the fairways are in very good condition. The only problem is the sand traps. They are exquisite and high arcing, but because of this the rain has left puddles in them all. Because none of us are really any good at golf and the puddles are out of control we decide to give ourselves free drops out of the sand for the entirety of the round. This decision surely shaves at least 10 strokes of our scorecards.
9:18- Mikey’s bogey on the 10th wins them the hole
9:38- After a par that squared our match on 12, I have the honors at the par-3 13th. The hole is about 175 yards away and there is water basically everywhere you look, especially all along the right hand side. I grab my 4-iron, close my eyes, and somehow end up on the back of the enormous green.
9:39- After Mikey parks one in the sand trap just to the left of the green, Hermo takes out his 6-iron and goes pin hunting. Off the club his ball is slightly left of the pin but is slowly fading right. We all think it’s going to go in the hole, but it fades a little too much and splashes into the water. For some reason I nominate it for the shot of the day.
9:40- Alex’s turn- Splash. Hermo hits another one just for fun and again it’s right at the pin, but splash. Just a little long. I make a joke about how his forearms got so strong.
9:50- With the water now on my right on the 14th I hook my drive about a mile left. I’m now onto sleeve #2 of golf balls.
9:58- Hermo sticks his second shot onto the green from about 210 yards out. Probably the actual shot of the day, but he would 3 putt for bogey.
10:02- Somehow Mikey scales a 30 foot dune and finds his ball. He then hits a ridiculous shot that lands just off the green.
10:58- I open sleeve #3
11:09- Mikey finds himself on the top of another incredibly high and steep dune. Hermo, an 8th/9th grade teacher, tells him to be careful.
11:20- After nine holes we are all square. Mikey, Alex, and I run in to get a quick bite at the turn.
11:22- The girl working the food stand thinks she’s a lot more attractive than she is. I detect a hint of Jersey ‘tude and I don’t like it.
11:23- I’m astounded at how big the hot dogs are. Joey Chestnut might struggle to down 10 of these bad boys. I slobber mine with mustard and relish and try to forget about the 51 I just had on the front.
11:34- Hermo and I both reach the 1st green in regulation, but my birdie putt goes about 15 feet past the hole. Don’t ask me how I managed that. Hermo’s birdie chance isn’t much better. We both finish with three putt bogeys, but still win the hole.
11:52- I open sleeve #4
11:56- Alex says, “Man, these dunes are twisted,” for the 8th time.
12:05- Another three putt bogey for Hermo. His 3rd of the day. I can’t really say much though because he is carrying our team on the back nine.
12:20- I mistakenly pick up Alex's ball. Once I become aware of my mistake I throw his ball right back to where it was.
12:24- Alex duffs his shot, but hits again on the grounds that I in some way messed with his rhythm. His second shot ends up about 1 foot from the hole.
12:36- Hermo and I are up two holes with 4 holes to play. I lose my drive and subsequent 3rd shot out of play. I’m banking on Hermo again, but after a good drive he falls apart and puts a 9 on the board.
12:44- After another drive of mine goes awry I throw my driver as if it’s an odd occurrence to see my ball not go straight.
12:46- After a few hours of open sky, it starts to drizzle once again.
12:49- Alex sinks a 15 foot putt for par and our match is now tied with two holes to play.
12:52- As we approach the 8th hole (a par-3) we see a woman sitting in a chair right by the tee box. She looks and acts exactly like our friend RJ’s mom. She starts to tell us about this absurd promotion, but Alex quickly tells her to just stop talking and explains that we are in a heated battle. I even go as far as to ask her to look away while I tee off because I can’t handle the audience.
12:56- About 5 times throughout our round, someone had stolen honors and hit a nice tee shot, so I quickly commandeer the tee box, but I hit my tee shot into a bush just to the right of the green.
12:57- Mikey ends up short and left of the green, Hermo parks his shot on the dance floor, and Alex goes well short and in some thick brush.
1:01- Hermo, the king of the three putts all day, two putts for par and puts the pressure on Mikey.
1:02- With the rain starting to pick up, Mikey yanks his 8 foot par putt left. Hermo and I now have them stymied with only one hole to play.
1:05- As we ride over to the 9th hole it starts to rain like it did when we were in the cart barn. RJ’s mom has long since packed it up and headed for cover.
1:06- Alex is saying that we should man up and play in the rain, but it’s really coming down so we call it a day and head back in. In retrospect, it would have been a much better story if we had stuck it out and finished, but this rain was ferocious.
1:10- Although we were one up with one hole to play, Hermo and I can’t claim victory because we didn’t finish the round. We don’t even really care because at this point we just want to get dry, drunk, and our fantasy draft started.
1:34- As we get back, I tell Alex, Mikey, and Hermo to get their Dunkin Donuts trash out of my car, but no one as much as flinches.
1:36- In the course of picking up all the trash myself, I grab an iced coffee container that is about a quarter of the way full and it spills all over my chest. For some reason I blame Hermo even though he is the only one that didn’t have coffee.
As part of the weekend, my buddy Alex, who lives in Baltimore, started looking for golf courses in the area that we could play. It should be noted that Alex and Browny really championed the whole fantasy weekend idea. Now Alex, who works for M&T Bank, also runs a few sports websites in his free time. One of them is a sports handicapping site and for the life of me I can’t figure out why anyone would pay money to get Alex’s picks, especially because he occasionally asks me who I like in certain games, but apparently the site is profitable. The other site is more of a sports information, blog type deal. Now what you have to understand about Alex is that he is probably the most persuasive kid in America. I mean, he could probably convince a prostitute to pay him for sex. Okay, maybe not, but the kid is incredibly talented. He called up this real nice course in Ocean City (the #3 ranked course in NJ) and told them that he has this website and that he was going to be in the area in late August and would love to write a feature on the course if they gave him and his friends a discount on the greens fees. The course usually costs about $100 to play on a Friday morning, but they agreed to let us play for $25 each. They schedule our tee time for 8:20 a.m.
In the weeks leading up to the Ocean City weekend, Alex sent me a number of emails asking if I’d be interested in helping him write the feature on the course. There was no way I could say no after he saved me $75 so we tossed a few ideas back and forth and finally decided on a retrospective diary. I know ESPN.com’s Bill Simmons just unveiled a retrospective diary about his fantasy football draft weekend with his friends in Vegas, but that had no bearing on this post. I have the emails to prove it. I won’t get into what happened during our draft because it would take too long, but let’s just say there was an awkward moment involving girlfriends and blowjobs.
So last Wednesday I find out that my friends aren’t getting to Browny’s Ocean City house until 11 p.m. on Thursday and I have to make it there at some point because of our early tee time. It just so happens that Thursday is my cousin’s birthday so instead of sitting around in Hartford all day (which is what I usually do) I decide to meet him in NYC for dinner with his parents and girlfriend. I drive to my cousin’s apartment in Hoboken, NJ (my halfway point on the long trek to Ocean City) and take the PATH into the city from there. This is what happened from that point until the end of our golf round on Friday.
6:01- After circling the block five times I finally park my car right in front of my cousin’s apartment. Thankfully I didn’t have to parallel park, or else I might have been there all night.
6:03- My cousin calls to check on my status. It strikes me that on a day that I should be going out of my way to get in contact with him, he has IMed, texted, and called me. All I did was write a message on his Facebook wall. So much for being the best man at his wedding....
6:06- I creepily get changed while still in the driver’s seat of my car.
6:35- I get off the subway at 23rd and 6th. The restaurant is located on 22nd and 3rd, but I, of course, have no clue which direction that is. I follow my instincts and make a right.
6:39- After walking down what seems like the longest city block of all time I see a street sign that says, “7th Street.” Fuck!! I had gone in the wrong direction. Is it just me, or should there be signs when you exit the subway that tell you which direction to walk?
6:40- Instead of stopping in my tracks and turning around, I avoid the embarassment and casually turn onto 7th and then take the next street, which thankfully turns out to be 22nd, back in the right direction.
6:47- I finally meet my cousin on a street corner. He tells me that his parents are already in the restaurant waiting for us.
6:52- We meet up with my cousin’s girlfriend. I’m sweating profusely. She must think I just ran the NYC marathon. God bless her soul, she hugs me hello anyway.
7:02- We have an awkward run in with a girl we all knew in college. My cousin’s girlfriend does most of the talking, while me, my cousin, and this girl’s boyfriend just stand there waiting for the conversation to end.
7:07- We enter the Irish pub and although I’ve never been there, I feel like I’m in Ireland. For some reason there’s sawdust all over the floor. Without missing a beat, my uncle orders me a beer, a Guinness of course.
7:22- Our waiter, who has a thick Irish brogue, gives me a death stare after I order my corned beef sandwich on white instead of the traditional rye. What can I say? I’m only 50% Irish.
7:36- Round 2 of Guinness for my uncle, cousin, and me.
7:55- Our waiter tells us that he’s a 64 year old great-grandfather. I immediately start doing the math in my head and conclude that either his daughter or granddaughter must have given birth around the age of 12. Why was he so forthright with this information?
8:08- Our waiter brings over a bottle of Jameson and pours each of us a shot.
8:08:30- I take a whiff of my shot. Bad idea. My cousin rips his.
8:09- I man up and slam mine. I feel a slight warming sensation go through my body. A few new hairs sprout on my chest. Thankfully my corned beef sandwich stays down.
8:17- My Uncle asks if I want another Guinness. Can’t say no, right?
9:40- My cousin, his girlfriend, and I make it back to Hoboken and decide to meet a bunch of our friends at a non-descript bar for a drink to celebrate my cousin’s birthday.
10:15- I leave the bar because I still have a 2 and half hour drive ahead of me.
10:18- New York Yankees pitcher Joba Chamberlain walks into the bar that I had just left. My cousin and his girlfriend, who like Joba is from Nebraska, talk to Joba for a solid 20-25 minutes. If I was there I would have asked him either why he wears his hat with a flat brim or why the Yankees are babying him.
10:30- I’m lost and driving through Journal Square and Jersey City. Not nice neighborhoods.
11:20- I finally make it to the Garden State Parkway. Only 90 miles to go.
12:18- I go through another toll where I’m required to throw exactly $1 in change into a bin before I can proceed. I’m running low on quarters and have to dig for five dimes.
12:48- I finally make it to Browny’s house and all of my friends are sitting around the TV watching the Syracuse v. UConn 6 OT from this year’s Big East Tournament. I’m not surprised at all.
1:10- The four of us golfing at the crack of dawn the next day decide on teams. It’s Alex and Mikey vs. Hermo and me.
1:45- We finally all decide to go to sleep. I have been assigned to sleep in the master bedroom with Browny. Although the bathroom has ‘his’ and ‘her’ sinks, we take turns.
1:58- I think we are just going right to sleep because I have to wake up in 5 hours, but Browny and I start up a conversation. Somehow we end up playing a fascinating game. One of us would say the name of someone that we went to high school with and the other would have to say what they thought that person was doing at that exact moment. For example, I said Andy Whackel. Browny then said that on Thursday night at 2 a.m. the Whack Attack was in his parents basement, 7 red bulls deep, playing a version of Halo that hasn’t been released yet.
2:35- The conversation eventually dwindles down and I get some shut eye for the big golf match in the morning.
6:58- I get a text from Mikey that reads, “Now on the tee, from Fairfield, CT….” Even though I live in Hartford, I still appreciate his enthusiasm.
7:00- My alarm goes off. I notice Browny is no longer in the enormous bed. Why he's up that early, I dont know. Maybe he's just really excited for our fantasy draft that night.
7:31- Alex, Mikey, Hermo, and I pile into my car and head for Twisted Dunes Golf Course. It looks like it’s about to downpour.
7:42- The Arabic men working at Dunkin Donuts can’t understand us and we can’t understand them. The only one that makes any sense just repeatedly asks us if we want “HOT OR ICE COFFEE? HOT OR ICE??” After a lot of pointing and gesticulating they get 3 out of the 4 of our orders correct. Not bad considering, I guess.
7:55- We pull into Twisted Dunes and I cruise right past the bag drop while scanning for the clubhouse.
7:57- As Hermo, Alex, and I are putting on our golf shoes (Mikey is a sneakers guy) a man pulls up on a cart and takes our four bags for us.
8:00- We enter the clubhouse and pay our $25 for the round. I half expect the employees to give us a look like “These are the writers that we gave a discount to?” but they are over the top nice. Alex and Mikey each also buy a bucket of range balls. Hermo and I proclaim that we are cold turkey players.
8:02- Mikey, thinking that his coffee has run right through him, enters the bathroom. It’s a false alarm.
8:04- Back at my car, I mention how it looks like it’s going to rain for days. Mikey mentions that the guy in the clubhouse said that it’s going to blow right over. I say that every guy in the clubhouse says that, but Mikey assures me that this guy wasn’t just saying it because he was watching the Doppler.
8:06- Mikey, Hermo, and I walk over to the bag drop and try to figure out how much we should tip the guy that grabbed our clubs for us. In an unprecedented move, Mikey takes command and tips the guy $4.
8:10- As Mikey and Alex make their way to the range, it starts to rain. It gets pretty aggressive rather quickly so the Twisted Dunes staff directs us into the cart barn.
8:20- It looks like sheets of rain are falling from the sky as our tee time passes.
8:22- Perhaps a little too into guy’s weekend, Alex suggests for the second time that we run 200 yards through the rain and get an alcoholic drink at the clubhouse.
8:32- Alex sticks his 9-Iron up in the air outside the back of the cart barn as if it’s a lightning rod. I wonder what would happen if the club was actually struck with a bolt of lightning. It’s metal and all, but there’s also a rubber grip that he's holding onto. My parents always used to tell me that cars were a safe place to be during a thunderstorm because of the rubber tires. So I’m curious to know how much protection, if any, the rubber would provide him with? Food for thought, I guess.
8:45- No signs of this monsoon letting up.
9:00- Apparently the guy in the clubhouse wasn’t just saying that it was going to blow over because the rain is magically gone.
9:02- Alex persuades the starter to let us start out on the back.
9:08- Alex tosses a tee up in the air to determine what order we will tee off in. Mikey sprays way right. I don’t go as far right, but I still have to take a drop. Alex’s ball doesn’t get airborne and ends up in the thick brush right in front of us. Hermo does the same. We are all thankful that no one was watching.
9:10- Twisted Dunes must have a really nice drainage system because the fairways are in very good condition. The only problem is the sand traps. They are exquisite and high arcing, but because of this the rain has left puddles in them all. Because none of us are really any good at golf and the puddles are out of control we decide to give ourselves free drops out of the sand for the entirety of the round. This decision surely shaves at least 10 strokes of our scorecards.
9:18- Mikey’s bogey on the 10th wins them the hole
9:38- After a par that squared our match on 12, I have the honors at the par-3 13th. The hole is about 175 yards away and there is water basically everywhere you look, especially all along the right hand side. I grab my 4-iron, close my eyes, and somehow end up on the back of the enormous green.
9:39- After Mikey parks one in the sand trap just to the left of the green, Hermo takes out his 6-iron and goes pin hunting. Off the club his ball is slightly left of the pin but is slowly fading right. We all think it’s going to go in the hole, but it fades a little too much and splashes into the water. For some reason I nominate it for the shot of the day.
9:40- Alex’s turn- Splash. Hermo hits another one just for fun and again it’s right at the pin, but splash. Just a little long. I make a joke about how his forearms got so strong.
9:50- With the water now on my right on the 14th I hook my drive about a mile left. I’m now onto sleeve #2 of golf balls.
9:58- Hermo sticks his second shot onto the green from about 210 yards out. Probably the actual shot of the day, but he would 3 putt for bogey.
10:02- Somehow Mikey scales a 30 foot dune and finds his ball. He then hits a ridiculous shot that lands just off the green.
10:58- I open sleeve #3
11:09- Mikey finds himself on the top of another incredibly high and steep dune. Hermo, an 8th/9th grade teacher, tells him to be careful.
11:20- After nine holes we are all square. Mikey, Alex, and I run in to get a quick bite at the turn.
11:22- The girl working the food stand thinks she’s a lot more attractive than she is. I detect a hint of Jersey ‘tude and I don’t like it.
11:23- I’m astounded at how big the hot dogs are. Joey Chestnut might struggle to down 10 of these bad boys. I slobber mine with mustard and relish and try to forget about the 51 I just had on the front.
11:34- Hermo and I both reach the 1st green in regulation, but my birdie putt goes about 15 feet past the hole. Don’t ask me how I managed that. Hermo’s birdie chance isn’t much better. We both finish with three putt bogeys, but still win the hole.
11:52- I open sleeve #4
11:56- Alex says, “Man, these dunes are twisted,” for the 8th time.
12:05- Another three putt bogey for Hermo. His 3rd of the day. I can’t really say much though because he is carrying our team on the back nine.
12:20- I mistakenly pick up Alex's ball. Once I become aware of my mistake I throw his ball right back to where it was.
12:24- Alex duffs his shot, but hits again on the grounds that I in some way messed with his rhythm. His second shot ends up about 1 foot from the hole.
12:36- Hermo and I are up two holes with 4 holes to play. I lose my drive and subsequent 3rd shot out of play. I’m banking on Hermo again, but after a good drive he falls apart and puts a 9 on the board.
12:44- After another drive of mine goes awry I throw my driver as if it’s an odd occurrence to see my ball not go straight.
12:46- After a few hours of open sky, it starts to drizzle once again.
12:49- Alex sinks a 15 foot putt for par and our match is now tied with two holes to play.
12:52- As we approach the 8th hole (a par-3) we see a woman sitting in a chair right by the tee box. She looks and acts exactly like our friend RJ’s mom. She starts to tell us about this absurd promotion, but Alex quickly tells her to just stop talking and explains that we are in a heated battle. I even go as far as to ask her to look away while I tee off because I can’t handle the audience.
12:56- About 5 times throughout our round, someone had stolen honors and hit a nice tee shot, so I quickly commandeer the tee box, but I hit my tee shot into a bush just to the right of the green.
12:57- Mikey ends up short and left of the green, Hermo parks his shot on the dance floor, and Alex goes well short and in some thick brush.
1:01- Hermo, the king of the three putts all day, two putts for par and puts the pressure on Mikey.
1:02- With the rain starting to pick up, Mikey yanks his 8 foot par putt left. Hermo and I now have them stymied with only one hole to play.
1:05- As we ride over to the 9th hole it starts to rain like it did when we were in the cart barn. RJ’s mom has long since packed it up and headed for cover.
1:06- Alex is saying that we should man up and play in the rain, but it’s really coming down so we call it a day and head back in. In retrospect, it would have been a much better story if we had stuck it out and finished, but this rain was ferocious.
1:10- Although we were one up with one hole to play, Hermo and I can’t claim victory because we didn’t finish the round. We don’t even really care because at this point we just want to get dry, drunk, and our fantasy draft started.
1:34- As we get back, I tell Alex, Mikey, and Hermo to get their Dunkin Donuts trash out of my car, but no one as much as flinches.
1:36- In the course of picking up all the trash myself, I grab an iced coffee container that is about a quarter of the way full and it spills all over my chest. For some reason I blame Hermo even though he is the only one that didn’t have coffee.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Remember Your Roots
Ever since I started watching The Colbert Report, I have been a huge fan of the Better Know A District segment. In these segments (55 down, 380 to go), Colbert interviews members of Congress and uses his sharp, quick wit (as well as a lot of editing) to twist their words. More often than not, Colbert absolutely owns the particular member of Congress. He asks absurd questions that catch our elected officials off guard. Usually one of these questions/topics is followed by Colbert saying, "Congressman, I can see that this topic is making you uncomfortable. Moving on.."
The segments always begin with Colbert on his set highlighting a few facts about whatever district the member of Congress is representing. Also, without fail, he will refer to that district, let's say it's the 5th, as the "Fightin' Fifth!"
Last night Colbert aired his interview with my congressional representative Dan Maffei and pointed out a few facts about where I'm from. Maffei, just elected in November, is not quite a friend of the blog, but he is a friend of the family. My dad worked on Maffei's campaign and I of course got the chance to speak to Maffei a handful of times. I tell you this only because I have talked to Maffei. Maffei's talked to Colbert. Ipso facto, I've talked to Colbert.
Now of course, If I was presenting my district to the (Colbert) Nation I would chose to highlight things other than the heavily polluted Onondaga Lake. If it were up to me, I would focus on the following three things.
1.)Anheuser-Busch Brewery
There are 12 Anheuser-Busch Breweries in America and one of them is located in my congressional district. I am very proud of this, because Anheuser-Busch is not only one of the staples of Americana (even though it was bought by Belgian company InBev last July), but I believe their signature product, Budweiser, is the king of all beers. Any good-natured, red-blooded American male above the age of 21 has enjoyed the delicious taste of a Budweiser beer. Well everyone except my congressman apparently. Couldn't shotgun a Bud heavy? Come onnnn. You better believe that the next time I see Maffei (who knows if I'll ever see him again), I'll teach him how to shotgun with the best of them.
2.) The Loud House
The Carrier Dome is the single greatest on campus arena in all of collegiate athletics. This facility serves beer (one of only a handful of on campus arenas that do so), annually ranks #1 in home attendance for men's basketball, and is the rowdiest place in America. Nobody, and I mean nobody, except for Akron, Penn State, Pittsburgh, Louisville (football and basketball), UCONN, Cleveland State, and Villanova comes into the Loud House and pushes the Orange around.
3.) The Irish Traffic Light
As you can see in the picture, this traffic light, on the corner of Tompkins Street and Milton Avenue, has the green light on top and the red light on the bottom. It is the only traffic light in the world that is set up this way. The light is located in the neighborhood known as Tipperary Hill, which is located on the west side of Syracuse (the city of hopes and dreams). According to folklore (and Wikipedia), back in the 1920's, when the light was first installed, Irish immigrants would throw rocks at the light because the British color (red) was on top and the color of their motherland (green) was on the bottom. The city would fix the light time and time again, but the Irish immigrants kept destroying the light until the city agreed to put the green light on top.
As an American male of Irish descent, I would confidently suggest that no one's congressional district can match these three things that the "Fightin' 25th" has to offer.
The segments always begin with Colbert on his set highlighting a few facts about whatever district the member of Congress is representing. Also, without fail, he will refer to that district, let's say it's the 5th, as the "Fightin' Fifth!"
Last night Colbert aired his interview with my congressional representative Dan Maffei and pointed out a few facts about where I'm from. Maffei, just elected in November, is not quite a friend of the blog, but he is a friend of the family. My dad worked on Maffei's campaign and I of course got the chance to speak to Maffei a handful of times. I tell you this only because I have talked to Maffei. Maffei's talked to Colbert. Ipso facto, I've talked to Colbert.
| The Colbert Report | Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c | |||
| Better Know a District - New York's 25th - Dan Maffei | ||||
| ||||
Now of course, If I was presenting my district to the (Colbert) Nation I would chose to highlight things other than the heavily polluted Onondaga Lake. If it were up to me, I would focus on the following three things.
1.)Anheuser-Busch Brewery
There are 12 Anheuser-Busch Breweries in America and one of them is located in my congressional district. I am very proud of this, because Anheuser-Busch is not only one of the staples of Americana (even though it was bought by Belgian company InBev last July), but I believe their signature product, Budweiser, is the king of all beers. Any good-natured, red-blooded American male above the age of 21 has enjoyed the delicious taste of a Budweiser beer. Well everyone except my congressman apparently. Couldn't shotgun a Bud heavy? Come onnnn. You better believe that the next time I see Maffei (who knows if I'll ever see him again), I'll teach him how to shotgun with the best of them.
2.) The Loud House
The Carrier Dome is the single greatest on campus arena in all of collegiate athletics. This facility serves beer (one of only a handful of on campus arenas that do so), annually ranks #1 in home attendance for men's basketball, and is the rowdiest place in America. Nobody, and I mean nobody, except for Akron, Penn State, Pittsburgh, Louisville (football and basketball), UCONN, Cleveland State, and Villanova comes into the Loud House and pushes the Orange around.
3.) The Irish Traffic Light
As you can see in the picture, this traffic light, on the corner of Tompkins Street and Milton Avenue, has the green light on top and the red light on the bottom. It is the only traffic light in the world that is set up this way. The light is located in the neighborhood known as Tipperary Hill, which is located on the west side of Syracuse (the city of hopes and dreams). According to folklore (and Wikipedia), back in the 1920's, when the light was first installed, Irish immigrants would throw rocks at the light because the British color (red) was on top and the color of their motherland (green) was on the bottom. The city would fix the light time and time again, but the Irish immigrants kept destroying the light until the city agreed to put the green light on top.
As an American male of Irish descent, I would confidently suggest that no one's congressional district can match these three things that the "Fightin' 25th" has to offer.
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