Sneezing from the Pollen,
The chain caught my shoe-string,
Hit the center bar on my bicycle,
And almost lost my bearings,
I Love Summer,
Good ol' summer time,
I got sunburned on the soles of my feet,
Lot of sand where the sun don't shine.
Caught a baseball with my face,
Potato salad in the sun,
Salmonella steps up to the plate,
Listeria gets the run.
I Love Summer,
Good ol' summer time,
I got sunburned at the back of my throat,
And sand behind my eye...
This summer has found me quite busy with various projects and activities.
Perhaps the biggest endeavor ever tackled by me is "The Barn Project". We
have had an old barn on our property that has been there probably since the
birth of our Nation. In fact, I saw the initials "G.W." etched into the
mighty ancient timbers. George Freakin Washington! The father of our country, taking time during the construction of this barn to whittle his initials into the wooden beams. Of course, the G.W. could stand for George White, but I like to think that it was George Washington...makes for a better story.
The barn had started sagging and shifting. Some of the loft beams had
started to crack and fall. The roof was like a sieve, especially after one
particular incident two winters ago. I was raising two hogs in that barn
and the birds had been causing all kinds of havoc. They were eating all my
feed and crapping worse than Kirstie Alley after all you can eat Clam Night
at the Lobster Haus. I figured I'd shake them up a bit and fire my shotgun
in their general direction. I did and a few of them scattered but most
remained. This kinda' irked me off so I fired again. This time, several
hundred started flying around. I decided that I should send a stronger
message and took aim at a group of 20 or so that were flying through the
barn. In a case of "not thinking before one acts", I pulled the trigger at
which point a brilliant stream of white sunlight shone through the roof. I
had just added a pizza sized hole into the barn roof. What's more is that
part of my roof was really in bad shape and the other part was fairly
decent. Guess which side I put the hole in...that's right, the good side.
Oh well, nobody ever claimed me as being too bright.
We had several experts come out. I had some Amish guys stop by too (gosh, I
hope they don't read this). In some nostalgic way, I had hoped the old barn
could be repaired. I figured that they would harken back to a time long ago
where men fixed anything and everything with the strength of their two
hands. Nah! Instead they took a look around and said "There's a reason why
people tear down old barns and put up new ones". And they weren't even
trying to sell me a new barn. With that advice in hand, we started on a
long, arduous journey that has gotten us to this point.
The barn was deconstructed from the inside out as we dismantled our "shop"
and saved a few larger pieces of wood. Most of what remained was old,
rotten barn siding and large, hand-hewn beams high above. In one day, we
were able to make a few well-planned cuts with a chain saw while
strategically placing a chain around some upright beams and pulling with a
tractor. By the end of that day, we had a giant heap of an old barn sitting
there. Now the real work would begin. With the mighty beast on the ground,
we were able to salvage some more wood and place in a safer spot. We cut
away the galvanized metal that coated the porous roof and covered the rotted
sides.
Finally, the barn was gone. What remained was the massive concrete pad that
was once the floor. We are moving the barn back away from our house so this
requires us to do some grading of the land where the new barn will be while also removing the old, brittle concrete from the previous spot.
I'll keep you posted as we progress along.
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My wife has this thing about emails. First off, she (like me) finds email
to be one of the most useful, enjoyable tools of this technological age we
live in. Here's a sampling of topics from her "inbox":
*Please fax over order #49292
*Hey ex-college roommate/friend...Love ya!!!!
*Girl, check out pictures of my kid.
She also has a lot of email from friends that evoke inspiration or talk about "friendship" and "life with kids" and "being a busy mom" and "my husband doesn't understand me" stuff.
My inbox is a little different. It includes titles like:
*Bird, check out the jugs on this chick
*Order Confirmation: 4 boxes of Viagra and a case of flaxseed has been shipped,
*Look! More jugs!
*Bird, are you out of jail?
I typically never get emails at home that are particularly stressful or
bothersome. Most of them are funny jokes that I've read 34 times. Sometimes
they are from my buddies talking about a recent sporting event with a
picture attachment of a naked dame or an inflatable gorilla for sale (I'm in
the market for an inflatable gorilla...seriously). Every once in a while I
will get one that reads "forward this to ten people to save little Suzy from
getting her gunecktigoink removed surgically" and I think to myself, "Self,
the internet and this email thing has been around for quite a while now.
Who out there really thinks that if they forward this email, that some
miracle cure will come forth...or Disney will give you free tickets or Bill
Gates will donate 100 bucks to your account?" Who's falling for this still?
There's only two things that really bother me about email though. One is
that I hate "spam". Spam can be defined as junk mail sent by someone you
don't know, usually trying to sell something to you. Odds are that spam mail one gets is hawking one of three things...weight loss plans, refinancing mortgages, and penile enlargements.
A little rule for you to live by, if you're relying on a random email sent
to you by someone you don't know to make health and/or financial decisions
then you are a complete moron and should have your fingers lopped off during
a bizarre hedgeclipping accident.
The second thing I hate is "forwards" that have been forwarded 15 times as
an attachment. I get an email of a joke, for example. "Sure, make me laugh
random person that included me on this list", I mutter to myself....and you click to open. Then you find another attachment envelope to open. Okay, double click
and...open. What? Another envelope to open? After about the tenth time of
this, I just delete it.
My wife has fewer email rules to live by. Her big thing is that she's Mrs.
Verybusybusinesswoman and she doesn't often read a lot of the jokey joke
stuff that I would. But here's her deal: If she does open the email to read a joke it had better not...and I repeat...better not be more than 2 paragraphs long.
If she has to Scroll downward you might as well forget it. Message deleted.
As Jim Gaffigan once said "Long emails are like homework" and wifey agrees.
Personally, I am not sure I could function anymore without email. I've
found that I communicate more via electronic mail than I do with my own
voice. I generally walk around all day and grunt and point at stuff like
some sort of neolithic, upright-walking creature. But when I get on the
email I chat it up like Sarah, the telephone operator from Mayberry. In fact, the other day I tried to write a note. It was illegible and looked like a some foreign doctor wrote it with low blood sugar. Speaking of writing, I have totally forgotten how to write in cursive. I print everything and even that looks like crap.
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A few things about the early days of this NFL football season. I watched
the first game last night between the Colts and the Saints. Very
entertaining game. I still don't understand why major sport events are
required to include some sort of mini-concert by artists that have no
business being cross-marketed together. I see some old guys in suits
sitting around a mahogany conference table saying "We have to appeal to
every possible demographic!" That's why you always get pairings like "Mary
J. Blige featuring Kenny G" or "Ludacris, Elton John, and John Tesh in a
very special rendition of 'Back Dat' Ass Up' ".
I do have to say that the pregame concert for this game was rather Mainstream-Midwestern-Conservative for a league that is quite openly brash, braggadocious, and has a high-tempo. But I suppose when you consider the recent headlines created by Pacman Jones, Michael Vick, Joey Porter and some members of the Cleveland Browns (notice the obvious omission of my saint-like Bengals), you should probably expect a little less "gangsta" mentality in your pregame show.
You had Kelly Clarkson who is a pretty decent performer. She dressed like
an out-of-work circus clown, but she appeals to your younger American Idol
folk. Not bad. I like some of her stuff. Then you had Faith Hill. She's
ugly. Nah, actually she's stunningly good looking and a very fine singer.
She won't ruffle many feathers and her music crosses over a couple of
genres. Then you had John Mellencamp (what happened to the "Cougar",
Johnny!) Generally speaking, I have enjoyed some of his music throughout his
career. He's from Indiana so he was almost required by law to be there. Of
course, he's a stark-raving mad militant liberal Hollywood meatball that
wears this Downhome-country boy, aw-shucks facade as he sips Perrier and
lights cigars with hundred dollar bills while flying in his private jet
across the country. But he's all for Farm Aid, so that makes it all okay, I guess.
By the way, can anyone name a more annoying song than "This is our country"?
I would purposely avoid buying a Chevy just for the fact that this song is
drummed into my head at every commercial time-out. This is oooouuuurrr
country!
Also, I have come to the conclusion that I can no longer stomach John
Madden. I threw up in my mouth a little bit when I heard him say "The
defense is there to stop the running back so they can't run the ball as
effectively" I'll be damned! No kidding, Madden. Did you and Steven
Hawking get together and hypothesize that revelation? He annoys
me much like Randy Cross and Bill Maas do. Madden has, as they say, lost
a step and his little "boom, biff, bow" act has grown tiresome.
By the way, I didn't realize the NBC studio crew now encompasses 37 guys on
the set. It looked like the cover of The Beatles' Sgt Pepper album.
Collinsworth, Costas, Jerome Bettis, Tiki Barber, Aleister Crowley, Oscar Wilde, and Paul McCartney were all in the booth breaking down the Saints' run game.
I think I've asked this before but...how did Jerome Bettis get a studio gig?
Same with Shannon and Sterling Sharpe and Michael Irvin. Actually, Bettis
is the best speaker of them all as he tends not to sound like he's got a
mouthful of marshmallows (although odds are he probably does have a mouthful
of marshmallows). I guess I just still despise Bettis because he's now this
squeaky clean, cuddly studio informant who offers us nuggets of wisdom
acquired through his days of playing...when in fact, all I can think of is
him dancing, yes Dancing, every time he muddled his rotund body for a 2 yard
gain. And who could forget that cute little head-shaking thing he did after
he exploded for 4 yards on a draw play on 3 and 32 as if he was telling the
opponent "No way you can stop me". By the way, a fun little fact you may
not know about Bettis: He's from Detroit and that's where the Super Bowl
was held 2 years ago! Amazing.
While we're on the topic of the NFL, let me be the first to tell you about
my beloved Bengals. They will be lucky to finish 8-8. If they win more
than 7 games, they should fall to the ground and pray to Allah. Bill
Simmons (from espn.com) said, "Any time a talented team underachieves because of a crappy defense, a shaky coaching staff and a collective chemistry that could best be described as "homicidal," then they bring the whole crew back for another season, I can't pick them to make the playoffs. So why would anyone else pick them?" Of
course, he followed this quote up by linking to a clip of a prison riot from
the show Oz. Touche', my friend. I agree completely. Who in that organization is saying "Well, we were one of the worst defenses in the league last year. Let's add no new significant players and hope for the best"
Finally, are you like me. Have you had entirely enough of the New
Orleans Saints lovefest? Okay, we got it. You had a horrible flood because
you built your cesspool of a city in a giant tidal bowl that is 9 miles
below sea level. Obviously I wouldn't wish the type of tragedy that
effected those people on any American but enough already! It's 2007 and
the players on the Saints probably could care less that the city they play
for (and not live in) got a much-needed oceanic colonic. So enough with the
emotional images of the team trotting on the field and the slow panning
shots of fans in the stadium last year holding signs up remarking how "Our
team has lifted our spirits". Ironically, I would wager that most of the
people that could afford tickets to a Saints game didn't have to suffer
through the flooding, loss of life and loss of property as they were living
many miles away in slightly more expensive, slightly more elevated above sea level housing. Maybe I'm being to harsh. I don't know.
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Not sure if anyone heard about this or not but the University of Michigan's
football team got beat at home in what was supposed to be the first win in
their march to a national championship season. They haven't won a game since Bo died. This really saddens me. It breaks my little heart. In all seriousness, I didn't really want to see them lose. I always root for the Big Ten conference and I particularly enjoy Michigan and Ohio State meeting at the end of the year and they are both undefeated. It makes an Ohio State victory all the sweeter.
Not to digress too much, but I root for the Big Ten because it is a pure, true-blue, football conference. I've been in many arguments with many people as I argue the merits of this hard-nosed conference. (most notably my verbal sparring with some punk at one of my wife's business funtions at this swanky hotel in South Beach Miami. He was popping off about "southern football". Long story short, I offered to fistfight him as I quickly tried to fashion a weapon out of a broken champagne glass I had stuffed in the breast pocket of my suitcoat)
Do yourself a favor and go to youtube.com and look for "michigan upset" stuff. It's quite entertaining. **I've included the "links" to these sites. However, you have to highlight the part, then "cut" then paste onto www.youtube.com. I haven't figured out the linking thing yet. Sorry.
Here's one at the Horseshoe (a much better name for a stadium than "the big house" and it actually doesn't look like a giant toilet sunken in the ground. This is the reaction from Buckeye fans after they won their home opener against a cupcake and after they see UM lose at home. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V0jePmKPEM0
This one is from Penn State (under the stadium again) as they watched the "Victors" fall and not be "Hailed". Not the blocked kick video but pretty good (and shorter too) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CttSiGnL7vA
Now this is my favorite one for so many reasons. First, you can feel the disgust from the Michigan faithful when the kick is blocked. Second, just after the kid says "we just beat michigan" the dude just yelling "yeah, yeah, yeah!" (by the way, if you ever say "we" just won or "we" are going to the playoffs or something and you aren't actually playing on the team, then you are a total douchebag. Other favorite parts? When the guy filming says "thanks for your hospitality". What a dickhead...but funny nonetheless. Finally, when the Michigan fan at the end says "that will never happen again". No kidding ass. That's why it was the greatest upset in history. It immediately makes the embarrassment OSU had in the National Championship game last year more tolerable. Anyway, here's the video of that: www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDFxzAp1Lf8
I happened to be visiting family in Michigan the day that game was played. After it was over, I saw I had a voice mail on my cell phone (I'm very important you know. It was from my buddy Jake who is a huge Buckeye supporter and equally huge hater of Michigan. His voicemail went something like this, "Bird! I know you're in Michigan. Did you see that? Please, whip your **** out and tell everyone there to worship it because in Ohio, we don't let things like getting beat by a Division 1-AA team beat us at home. Ha ha ha". I was immediately compelled to put it on speakerphone and share it with my northern friends.
In all honesty, they took it very well...considering what happened. I probably would have blown a gasket and ended my night being wheeled through emergency room doors while on a gurney.
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A few weeks ago my wife took the kids and her mom and grandma to the Carolinas (I can't keep North and South straight. They should merge so it wouldn't be so danged confusing) While they were away, I went out in the evenings to grab a bite to eat. One night I knew the Reds would be on tv so I headed up to Z's to get a sandwich and watch a bit of the game.
As I sat there, I found I spent most of my time just checking out people. For some strange reason there was a pencil sitting next to me so I grabbed a pack of matches and jotted down some things of note. Here's what I came up with during my evening at the bar.
* What's with "bar time"? All bars set their clocks ahead 15 minutes or more. I look up and say to myself "Holy crap! It's nearly 2:30 in the morning on a Wednesday! I gotta get home" Then I realize it's only 2:15 in the morning. Ahh, I nestle back down and order 4 more beers and a shot of morphine. Why do bars feel like they must deceive me?
* There was a very pretty girl there (a pretty girl in a Piqua bar happens as frequently as Haley's Comet comes around. You notice these things) She was with her man and I thought of this timeless saying I heard long ago, "She may be pretty, but I guarantee you that someone else is already sick of her". That kinda made me giggle.
* They were showing the X-games on some of the televisions. You might think that I would begin my rant bashing the x-games and its' "athletes". You would be wrong. I thought to myself that these guys are very athletic. In fact, they are 5 times more athletic than any soccer player I've ever seen (remember kids, soccer is for little girls and third world countries where they poop on the sidewalk in the middle of town and sleep on straw) Anyway, this dude was on a skateboard perched on the top of this ramp. He looked like he was a thousand feet in the air. The object was to go down this huge ramp and then shoot up an equally large ramp at which point he would do some sort of trick. What happened though is, instead of going up and coming down the ramp, he drifted out toward the middle...away from the downward slope of the ramp. This meant that he was now falling straight down from about 35 feet in the air onto hard ground. The guy hit the ground so hard his freakin' shoes shot off like he was hit by an Oldsmobile. I remember saying "Oh god, he's dead". It was one of the most amazing things I saw that night...that is until I saw....
some dude driving a yellow VW bug. Picture of the guy driving that car (below)**ps, I love this picture. Liberace gay? No way! Never saw that one coming. The best is that some guy named "Earl" is so proud to have the signed glossy
* Yes, I make assumptions about people based purely on first impressions and appearance. I'm actually pretty accurate. I saw a guy drive by in a Yellow VW Bug and instantly thought, "what a jackass!" If it was a girl...no biggie. But there's something comical about a dude driving a yellow VW Bug. All VW Bugs are required by local ordinances to hold a couple of fake daisy flowers in the cupholder and to have vanity plates that say something clever like "Hollysbug" or "Jans Toy". I gave him the benefit of doubt by wondering to myself "Maybe he's going to take his wife's car to get an oil change or rotate the tires". But in reality, he's probably taking it to get a pedicure and have his chest waxed. It's interesting, now that I think about it, that if a girl was driving a big four wheel drive or something it would be totally hot. Especially if she was wearing a tank or halter top, with her hair in a ponytail sticking through the back of her Cincinnati Reds hat as her stereo blared out some Molly Hatchet...not that I've ever thought about it or anything.
That's all I took home on my matchbook from my little night out. I did get the phone number of some dude that owns a yellow VW Bug though. Sweet!
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I don't know if I posted this before or not. Hopefully not. Sometimes at lunch I will write some of this crap and email to my home where I hope to add it to my blog. I may have added these...I may not have. ***
It’s summer and it has been pretty hot and dry around here lately. A few weeks ago, I was driving through Piqua (naturally) and sitting on the step of a porch were these two young girls. They were what you call “goth” chicks, meaning, they dress in all black, wear heavy black eyeliner, dye their hair black, paint their nails black and generally mope around while wearing some speed metal band’s t-shirt. It always gives me a chuckle to see people proclaim their individuality and their hatred toward conformity by dressing and looking exactly like their fellow angst-ridden cohorts. Anyway, an important question arose: Do goth folks, in their heavy black clothing, take a break from gothness during the summer due to the scorching heat? Is it only during the school year that they outwardly display their melancholy to their peers? Or…do they take a break when it’s steamy and humid outside? I wonder if their parents have a couple of Rubbermaid containers in the basement and each season they swap out their Dark, mad at society, hate-filled clothes for their light, sensible, khaki’s and sandals.
I don’t know, I just think it’d be incredibly hot and terribly uncomfortable to be dressed in black and wear long pants and military boots all summer long as you and your friends devise a plan to blow up the junior high school or something.
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Someone asked me the other day, “What is your problem?” That’s a good question, so I thought about it for a minute. Finally, I came up with something. I have a problem with spider webs.
First, I don’t hate spiders. They are fascinating creatures who actually benefit humans far more than they hurt us. And their webs….unbelievable! Complex. Efficient. Tedious work for such a small creature yet necessary to sustain its life.
When I say I have a problem with spider webs, I feel as if I should define what kind of web. The web that is found in the corner of a door or stretched across two plants in a field…those are cool. It’s the long, single strands that piss me off. I’m stunned at the number of times I find myself pawing and scraping my head trying to get these sticky silk-like pains-in-the-asses off me.
When I leave for work in the morning, I find myself holding my hand in front of my eyes, about a foot in front of me like a scene from Phantom of the Opera ( singing "Keep your hand at the level of your eyes"). Why? To block the inevitable onslaught of spider webs that will soon be wrapping around my face and head. It drives me crazy.
So that’s my problem, buddy. Thanks for asking.
By the way, that reminds me of a bit Jay Leno used to do in the mid 80’s or so. During that time of my life, I was probably in elementary school or Jr. High and, during the summers, I would stay up every night and watch Johnny Carson and Late Night with David Letterman. Looking back, it seems kinda’ funny to me that a fifth grader would look forward to sitting in front of the television to watch Carson because Don Rickles or Jimmy Stewart would be on (probably two of my favorite guests). In fact, my 6th grade book report was about Johnny Carson.
Anway, this was during the time that Letterman was just gaining steam. He was still on NBC, still on at 12:30, and still funny in a goofy, collegiate sorta’ way. Letterman’s show is still funny today, but I think it’s a little more mature and not quite as “stupid”…which can be kind of good and kind of bad. Back then, Jay Leno was a big-time comedian. A major headliner. When he was scheduled to be on Letterman, it was a big deal.
The reason I’m even off on this tangent is my previous thing on “what’s your problem” reminded me of Leno’s “what’s your beef, Jay?”. Dave would ask Jay what his beef (his problem) was with anything…and Leno would go on forever! It was genius…classic.
I could probably recite his whole bit verbatim…I have the VCR tape somewhere (must find a VCR)
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Joe Morgan, ex-Cincinnati Reds Hall of Fame player and current ESPN baseball commentator, is quite possibly the worst color analyst (referring to his position in the broadcast booth…not his race) in baseball.
Here is something Joe Morgan might say on any given night: “Ken Griffey Jr. is a great player. Willie Mays once said I was a great player. One time I hit a bases-empty grand slam. I am really good at everything…just ask Hank Aaron. He said I was amazing when I played”
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I've mentioned that I can't stand Cincinnati Red's leftfielder Adam Dunn. I've probably mentioned it a thousand times actually. He a clubhouse cancer and has hurt this team as much as Barry Larkin did in his later years.
As I sit here typing away on this blog, I am watching the Reds' game and thinking of the great season that never materialized. But unlike the Bengals, I see a light at the end of the tunnel for this team. It's September and they have called up some of their younger guys to give them some experience. I think this team will do quite well next season. In my efforts to be a sort of prognosticator, I will give you a few names of players to watch on this team next season.
Josh Hamilton: In my opinion THE BEST player in the National League. Pretty boastful you might say. But I truly believes he is at a higher level than many of his peers. He has a ton of tools that one can witness on a nightly basis.
Joey Votto: First baseman. Called up in September to get some major league licks in. The guy is a stud hitter.
Jay Bruce: Just named Minor League Player of the Year. May not make the "big" club next season but he might be up for a cup of coffee sooner rather than later.
Jeff Keppinger: Been around a while and is finally getting his chance to play regularly. This guy is a flat-out pure hitter.
Along with Brandon Phillips, Griffey, and the help of a few others, I see the Reds winning 160 of 162 next season.
*Side note: I had a bid on ebay to purchase 2 front row seats with an aisle seat (in the outfield though) for the last day game of the season. I just won! $10 and I'll be at the game this week vs. the Cardinals (I don't like the Cardinals)
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Finally, I feel I need to tell you about something else that has been a big deal for me this summer. For the fourth year, we were invited back to participate in the Monday Night Golf League. This league was started 20 something years ago by a couple of guys who wanted to get together to form a league. My buddy Gill is an excellent golfer and he was invited to play. He needed a partner to be on his team and, for some strange reason that historians years from now will try to figure out, picked me.
After our first season was completed, we worried all winter if we'd be invited back. Thankfully, we were invited back.
Fast forward to this season. They employ this elaborate handicapping system that, in a sense, equalizes all the players. So even though I'm a middle-of-the-road golfer, I will have a chance to compete with a really great golfer by him giving me "strokes". I don't really understand how it all works. I just show up and try to shoot my best score. Last season, we started out kinda' hot but, as the old saying goes "A Dog that shits fast doesn't shit long". We went from first to near worst by midway through the season. It didn't matter though because we weren't really "in it to win it".
This season, we started out hot as we had in the past. As we played each week and waited for our typical meltdown, we realized that notorious meltdown hadn't reared its ugly head.
In a feat that rivaled some of the greatest accomplishment of man, we were poised to make our first appearance in the playoffs!
A little bit about this league. I'd say that Gill and I are one of the two "youngest" teams out there. In most sports that would be an advantage, but in golf it doesn't really matter. But one thing we've found, and I feel kinda' strange saying this, is that a lot of the older guys really like us. In my greatest attempt at trying not to sound boastful or full of myself, I have to think the Old Guard finds us entertaining. First, we don't take it too seriously and yet we respect the etiquette of the game. Of course, we do have one ritual that sorta' flies in the face of the majesty of the game. Just before we tee off, Gill puts a big pinch between his cheek and gum and I load up on a big chaw of Red Man.
Second, we're pretty competitive yet always liberal with praise for our opponents. Hey Carl, your tee shot landed on top of a robin's nest in the tip of that tree...but that's where you wanna' come in from. That sorta' thing.
We played against a guy named Bob in the middle of the year. He was a little guy, about late 50s, pretty quiet and soft-spoken, but a very good golfer. Every drive of his was straight down the middle. At one point, Gill called him "Fairway Bob". Once the round was done, we sat on the deck and signed our scorecards and Bob started laughing about his new nickname. We informed him we had names for other guys like Gene Gene the Putting Machine (this old guy can drain puts from the next county over), Gorilla Grog (for his monstrous drives and hairy arms) Tommy Bluejeans (because this guy wore jeans even if it was 99 degrees)and Gentleman Jim (an old fella that was the nicest guy and always looked for us on the putting green so he could chat and tell us about his hole in one). I would be willing to bet that Bob had never laughed so hard in his life. From that day on, he would come up to us with new nicknames he thought of or to see if we already had names for his opponent that night.
We also got this reputation as being big beer drinkers. It's truly more fiction than fact. We did have a cold beer on the putting green as we waited for our opponents to show up, but never in excess. However, the legend grew and rumor spread that if you shovel beers down our gullets, that we could be beaten. Gill and I gallantly took the challenge for a couple of weeks until, unfortunately for us, we proved this theory to be inaccurate and the free pilsners stopped coming. We actually played better the more beers we had. One team even bought us beer and carried it for us. We thumped them. Still, the long journey found us in the playoffs. It was interesting how I felt about it because I hadn't been in a really competitive situation for quite some time and, suddenly, I was in this highly-contested battle to make the finals. All day at work I thought about that night's match.
We won our semi-final match by the sixth hole and I can't describe the excitement we felt that day. Our thoughts soon turned to the championship match.
Well, to make a long story short and to ease the daily pain I feel for playing like such a turd, we lost in the Finals.
Here I am, I have a great healthy, fun family. A nice house and great life but losing that match really bothered me for a couple of days. I didn't spend my nights laying awake in bed thinking about ways to end it all...but it did stick with me. I can't help thinking that if I played a little better, we would have had a shot. I kept thinking about Dan Marino and his being in the Super Bowl early in his career and never even getting a whiff of the big game after and how I might have blown Gill and my only shot at winning this thing. Oh the stories we would have told. Oh how we would have embellished it and had fun with it. It's sorta childish and a bit silly I guess, but I'd still love a rematch.
As luck would have it, my dad and brother were playing that course the same day as our Finals. It was kinda cool being on number 11 tee and looking over on number 15 and seeing my dad and brother peeking over. It was like we had a gallery!
So, to borrow a phrase from every Chicago Cubs fan in the world, "Maybe Next Year"
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All right, that's all I have for tonight. Please leave me a comment and tell me what you think. If you liked it, I will publish your comment and bask in my magnificent glory. If you don't like it, I will delete your comment like it never happened! HA!
Also, remember that all the minutiae from months past are archived in the column to the right. Wondering what my thoughts were on topics from July of 2004? Then go to the "Previous Posts" and "Archives" section and enjoy the crisp refreshing feeling all over again
