Caps Go Deadline Dealing.

Well, well, well. Caps GM George McPhee didn't exactly stand pat at the NHL trading deadline, did he? Adding some parts without mortaging the future, McPhee made it known that the Caps are serious about making the playoffs this year. Let's tackle the moves in order of interest. Matt Cooke, a gritty veteran winger, was added for depth with a price of Matt Pettinger. Pettinger, a once promising youngster and two-time 20 goal scorer, needed a change of scenery. He played a role on this current Caps club that is being filled, and better frankly, by other young players.

Next comes the addition of Sergei Federov. If it were 1994 I'd be doing backflips and the Caps would have had to give up much more than a defenseman drafted last year. That being said, I am excited to see Fedorov in Washington. While not nearly the dominant two-way player he once was, Federov, at age 38, is a playoff tested veteran who adds buckets of experience to a team searching for an identity as it makes its playoff push. Also, don't discount Federov's ability to mentor young Ovechkin and Semin, Russian stars who likely worshipped Federov as kids.

The most interesting move is the trade for goalie Cristobal Huet. At nearly 33, Huet gives the Caps some goaltending options for the future. As for this season, coach Bruce Boudreau now has his hands full. Boudreau and no. 1 goalie Olie Kolzig haven't seen eye to eye and clearly this move is a signal that McPhee and Boudreau have lost some faith in Kolzig's ability to close out games. This is tough for me as a fan. Kolzig is the unquestioned locker room leader, fan favorite and happens to be the only Caps goalie who has had real success in the playoffs. However, his save percentage has slipped below .900 and it has appeared at times this season that Kolzig feels every one of his 37 years. Huet may be the answer, but I'm sure installing him in the top spot would be met with resistance. It would be hard for me to envision the Caps making a playoff run without Kolzig in net. Something just wouldn't feel right. He has given the organization the last three years while the team in front of him has stunk. This bears serious watching.

Then again, seeing the Caps make a playoff run with any goalie is still more pipe dream than certainty. i am excited by today's trades and optomistic they'll work, but this team has a lot of work to do with 18 games remaining. The good news is that the boys and I have tickets to Saturday's game, so we can get an up close look at mad scientist McPhee's latest experiment. He acquired a lot for a little. Let's see if the pieces fit in time to make the top 8 and beyond.

When Good Food Goes Bad.

So, I'm on Hypochondria High Alert. Dying of a food borne illness is on my list of top five greatest fears. It seems lately the gods of food prep are teasing me, causing my worry gene to work overtime. Usually I take extreme care to make sure food is cooked properly, my hands are clean, etc. For instance, on Tuesday I purchased a plastic bottle of iced tea from a convenience store. When the lid popped off way too easily, not even breaking the plastic ring I knew I had wasted 99 cents because there was no way I was drinking that tea. I had outsmarted whatever devious factory worker had messed with my tea. Nice try, tea tainter.

In the last 24 hours, however, I have tempted fate. First, I was convinced I would be taken out by some contaminated supermarket chowder. We pulled two empty cups off the stack but only needed one. When I went to put the extra back I noticed the third cup on the stack was covered in some sort of clear, perhaps industrial, liquid. Amanda convinced me that the cup she had subsequently filled with corn chowder was not the one that had touched the greasy, petroleum-covered third cup. I was dubious, yet my lust for tasty food won out and I ate the chowder anyway.

Then, when we got home, I made chicken soft tacos with all the fixings, including sour cream. Only after enjoying the tacos did I realize that the seam on the bottom of the plastic sour cream container was split ever so slightly. With my head suddenly swimming I tried to convince myself that the container ruptured in our fridge and not six weeks ago in the warehouse. Because if it had ruptured anytime earlier than in my fridge I know that Bryan-killing bacteria has rushed in waiting to unleash its destructive evil on an unsuspecting Bryan.

For now, I am showing no outward signs of my food attacking me. But I know my insides are being slowly turned to goo as the bacteria vanquishes my white blood cells. Pray for me.

The Rocket and the Rat.

Even though my work schedule allowed for it, I didn't plan to watch the entire Congressional hearing held yesterday to further investigate steroid use in baseball. It only took a short while for me to be sucked in, however. Like the cliched car wreck that you can't take your eyes off of, once I tuned in I couldn't tune out until it was over. An argument could be made that the Committee for Government Oversight should be meddling in baseball's business because baseball has an anti-trust exemption. I tend to disagree and believe yesterday's circus was silly and unnecessary. Of course, that doesn't mean it didn't provide plenty of entertainment.

One thing that struck me immediately was the way the questions/accusations from the committee members broke along party lines. For the most part, Republicans had Roger Clemens' back and Democrats defended Brian McNamee. My uncle and I, in e-mails back and forth last night, couldn't figure out the partisanship angle. This morning a commentator cleared it up for me. Former Senator George Mitchell, author of the damning Mitchell Report in which McNamee accuses Clemens of HGH and steroid use, is a Democrat. So, the Dems on the committee wanted to support Mitchell and his report. Like yesterday's entire circus, this is a little sad, but makes sense.


The biggest problem I had with the hearing is that I now have no better idea of who is lying than I did before the hearing. Neither Clemens, nor McNamee backed an inch off their stories. It seems obvious to say that because their stories are completely opposite that one of them has to be lying, but they were both so discredited that I have come to believe that the hearing took place in some alternate dimension where they are both simultaneously lying and telling the truth. Neither party looked good. McNamee admitted to lying about lots of stuff just not about Clemens. Clemens stumbled through answers and changed the subject any chance he could get. In fact, it was similar to watching politicians answer debate questions so maybe the Congressmen felt right at home. There were too many great moments to pick a favorite, but the one I wanted to see never fully materialized. At one point Clemens was on the ropes with questions that he wasn't handling very well. He was getting frustrated, his voice was rising and his face was getting red. I was rooting for him to go Colonel Nathan Jessup from a A Few Good Men-


Congressman (gulping down water):Did you take steroids and HGH?
Clemens:I did what I had to do.
Congressman:Did you take steroids and HGH?
Clemens: YOU'RE GOD DAMN RIGHT I DID!


Alas, Clemens kept his composure and we were left without our "aha" moment. Another thing now missing is my faith in our legislators. Even if I stipulate that this hearing was necessary, I am still dissappointed in the committee members. A few words to describe that lot: starstruck, clueless, inattentive, uninformed, confused, out of touch, pompous, self-righteous and out to play "gotcha". They should be playing Perry Mason on their own time, not the taxpayers'.

Finally, I want to share a few of the phrases that came from the testimony that may not have made the evening news.

Clemens repeatedly used the word "misremember" which I had never heard used before and sent people scrambling for their dictionaries (it's in there).
There was testimony about Clemens "bleeding through his dress pants".
And my personal favorite-There was much discussion of and considerable speculation about "a palpable mass on his right buttocks".

I can't top that.

1990's No Longer.

It's apparent, at least from the public drubbings two 90's icons are taking today, that the 1990's are over. The spotlight is shining awfully bright on both Hillary Clinton and Roger Clemens as they struggle to repair reputations and wage different, yet similar campaigns to win public favor.

Clinton has run her losing streak to eight straight primary/caucus defeats to Barack Obama. Uncle Mo' is clearly in Obama's corner as his call for change may just be catching on with voters. For a while Clinton's camp could dismiss Obama's support because the groundswell of attention wasn't translating into actual votes, but that may have changed. He is gaining traction and Clinton's arrogance about being the presumptive nominee may be her undoing. All of her staff changes may be too little, too late. The "Oh well, we'll wait for Texas and Ohio" has a whiff of Guiliani's misguided "wait for Florida" strategy.

Clemens can also blame his arrogance for the pile he's standing in right now. The evidence, with Andy Petitte's testimony being the most damning to date, is heavily stacked against him. Clemens has boxed himself in with angry denials and his tasteless glad-handing of members of the congressional committee. (And shame on the congressmen who got Clemens' autograph and picture as he went door to door on Capitol Hill.) I don't care if Clemens is guilty of perjury; I really don't think any of this should be played out in Congress. Surely the greatest law-making body in the land has more important things to do than monitor grown men playing a child's game. (Oh yeah, some of them do, they are shirking their duties to run for President.) I do, however, want to see the truth about Clemens revealed. My day would be made today if he had the cajones to stop the proceedings this morning and admit on national tv that he took steroids and HGH. I would respect Clemens so much more for that, rather than carrying on what appears to be this sloppy charade. I would know he was a cheat and wouldn't want him in the Hall of Fame, but at least he and his blowhard attorney could skulk off to the shadows.

The thing that most unifies Clinton and Clemens, though, is the fact that their demises may be predicted too early. The pundits could be completely mistaken in both cases. Clinton is essentially tied with Obama in the delegate count and she could easily make up ground if she decides to get nasty. As for Clemens, as unlikely as I think this is, he could be the one that looks honorable and trustworthy after today's hearing. And here's a crazy idea:maybe he's actually telling the truth about not taking performance enhancing drugs. But I'll believe that when I see the grunge-rocking pigs fly by.

Copycaps?

I have mentioned previously that I love the fact that the Washington Caps returned to red, white and blue uniform colors but that I wasn't sold on either of the new logos. I like the secondary logo even less now. After seeing the Whataburger (and really it should probably be Kindaokayaburger) sign all over Texas I am convinced the Caps ripped the logo from this burger joint. Did "marketing genius" Ted L. scan some graphic design encyclopedia for ideas? You be the judge.

Thank You, Peter Angelos

Thank you Mr. Angelos, by trading Erik Bedard you saved me 25 dollars this spring. No, not on a ticket; I'll likely still go to a game because I'm a sucker and there are few things better than a sunny afternoon at Camden Yards. You saved me 25 dollars because instead of the the new O's cap I needed to buy I'll be wearing a paper bag over my head. That's right, by trading away one of the last quality pieces of your team, you've reduced O's fans to feel like Saints' or Jets' fans of old-too embarassed to show our faces at the park.

I understand the trade and, truthfully, have mixed feelings about it. Bedard was to be the only reason to get excited about the team every five days. Now, there is little to look forward to this season. On the other hand, I understand the need to raze the team, taking it to street level before building it back up. Andy McPhail, by trading Tejada, Bedard and likely Brian Roberts, has stockpiled some arms and, to an extent, replenished the minor league system. McPhail's track record suggests he should be trusted and this may be a sign that Angelos is finally letting his baseball people make the baseball decisions.

I also take some hope from the example the Capitals have set. They sold off many of their expensive parts, stunk for two years, but now are competeing for a playoff spot with a younger, retooled model. The discouraging difference with the Orioles, however, is that , while they have some very good young prospects, I don't think they have a marquee centerpiece like Alex Ovechkin. Asking more patience of Orioles fans is a tricky proposition considering it's been ten seasons since they've had a winning season and haven't won the World Series since 1983. Ah, well, at least I can sew my 25th anniversary World Series patch to my paper bag.

Texas Travelogue:Part Three

Texas Travelogue:Part Two

So, after a couple days in San Antonio we headed north to complete the main mission of our journey, to visit Rob T and his awesome family. Here are some highlights of that portion of the trip. Bear in mind that Austin's city motto is "Keep Austin Weird".
*The best part was hanging with the T family, cutting up, reminiscing, goofing off and, of course, meeting their daughter for the first time. As a side note-If you want a good laugh search YouTube for some clips of Dr. Steve Brule. Stupid funny. Thanks Rob.
*We played tourist one day, visiting the state capitol building. I sat at the Governor's desk where every bill has been signed into Texas law. While sitting in the chair I stifled the urge to mispronounce nuclear and order someone's execution.
*One of the first things you notice about Austin as you leave the airport is the highways. They have highways built over highways; giant overpasses that remind me of toy slot race tracks that loop over themselves. Think Route 1 in Delaware being built above Rt 13 instead of around Dover.
*The scenery is beautiful. From Lake Travis, a filled former quarry, to numerous parks and open spaces there is a ton of outdoor activities available. We can't wait to go back in the warmer months to enjoy the outdoors more because we just scratched the surface.
*We had the best BBQ beef brisket I've ever tasted at a place called Rudy's. At Rudy's they don't even give you plates; they slap a pound of brisket on wax paper on a tray. Then they rip open a loaf of bread throw a handful of slices on the tray and send you on your way. I had the delicious regular cut only because I was afraid that if I had eaten the "extra moist" marbled fat cut my heart would have stopped before I pushed away from the table. But I must say the sinful sample bite I had of the extra moist may be the single best thing I have ever tasted. Seriously.
*Combining two of my favorite things, the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema serves dinner during the movie. Given that one of my biggest pet peeves is people who talk during movies I was a bit dubious that this was a good concept. I am happy to report that they have a system that works flawlessly and I enjoyed my Royale with Cheese and Five Dollar Shake as we laughed our asses off watching Juno. They also have really cool theme nights and crazy activites. I think in the weeks after we left they were hosting a regional final for the World Air Guitar Championships and Will Ferrell was coming to pimp his new basketball movie.
*When we travel I like to photograph signs and marquees that are funny, strange or unique. Austin was full of signs like this and that sort of symbolizes what we liked about the city. It has an offbeat, artistic, creative feel that just feels good. From the neon sign for the brothel-turned-motel that is shaped like genitalia to world famous grafitti art, this town indeed keeps it weird. Austin is also the cleanest city I've ever visited. Of course, it's competition in that category mostly consists of Baltimore, Washington, Philadelphia and New Orleans.
*Thanks T family, we can't wait to come back.

Upcoming in Part Three:Vacation pictures that you are not forced to sit through.

Texas Travelogue:Part One

In mid-January Amanda and I scooted down to Texas to visit Rob, Tara and family. We had a blast visiting them, of course. We also, despite bringing Maryland winter temps south, were able to enjoy some of the great Texas outdoors. Before heading to Rob's in Austin we buzzed south to spend a couple days in San Antonio. We had heard great things about the city and figured if we were that close we better check it out. Upon arriving in San Antonio, however, I was quite sure we had made the wrong decision.

When we left the expressway to hit downtown San Antonio we were surprised to find it was a ghosttown. Granted it was Sunday night and the Cowboys had just lost to the Giants, but we saw only one other car for blocks. I half expected a tumbleweed to blow past. We arrived at the hotel which was eerily quiet. The hotel was very nice, but it was literally on the wrong side of the tracks. It was surrounded by vacant lots and the buildings across the street, the ones that weren't burned out that is, had iron bars on the doors and windows.

This is always the danger of booking over the internet in a city to which you've never traveled. Even though the hotel was in the shadows of the Alamodome and a mere five blocks from downtown's world famous Riverwalk, the neighborhood looked like the part of Detroit that Robocop cleaned up. I could probably win a war correspondent photo Pulitzer if I had snapped some shots of our immediate surroundings. And I might have had the desk clerk not said straight faced, " If you are going to walk at night, don't go that way.", as she pointed up the street. Awesome. For those of you familiar with Baltimore, it was like booking a hotel in the "inner harbor" and the hotel ends up being under the overpass behind the Raven's stadium.

Surely the light of day would reveal a new view giving me a new outlook. Not so much. The sunshine revealed that across the vacant lots stood more grafitti covered buildings with boarded windows. This, however, is the last of the negatives regarding our brief stay in San Antonio. We really played tourist-eating fantastic food, being serenaded by mariachis, walking the neat Riverwalk and, of course, investigating the Alamo.

I found the Alamo fascinating. From years of hearing how small it is in person I carried low expectations. Covering a city block or so, the Alamo sits squarely in the middle of downtown. The curators and museums on site provide excellent info for a history buff like myself and reminded me of just how boastful, I mean proud, Texans are of their heritage.

San Antonio also has an entertaining homeless population. Within minutes we passed one gentleman 3 or 4 times, yet he hit us up every time we passed. I'm not saying he should catalogue every target, but, damn man, remember a face for a few minutes. Then there was the guy who, upon seeing us taking photos with our digital camera, asked us which tv show we were with. After a short, confusing conversation he finally decided we were not tv producers and began to walk away. After a few steps he turned back to us and announced, "Just so you know, I'm a cop." I choked back laughter as he turned and purposely strode away. So, FYI, next time you are in San Antonio and see a man in flip flops and deperately in need of a comb, beware-he's the fuzz.

Upcoming in Part Two: Good friends and good times in Austin.

Tribute To A Kick-Ass Car.

An ode to my now deceased car:

Little Honda, you were often under appreciated while I owned you, about that there is no doubt. The indignities included, but were not limited to, rarely being washed, spilled coffee, trash collecting, listening to my rants about poor drivers (ironic, huh?) and being choked with confetti. (Though that last one was not my doing.) On the plus side, I did provide routine maintenance and never saddled you with a corny nickname.

Despite all my transgressions, you never gave me mechanical trouble and, more importantly, you protected me when I impatiently piloted you across oncoming traffic and squarely into the path of the giant Dodge Ram pickup that I didn't see. Afterwards, I told people that you were no match for that big truck. Of course, I was absolutely incorrect on that point; in this instance you were the perfect match. You cushioned me so that the collision and resulting 360 degree spin (Well, 340 degrees, but I know we'd have made 360 if that parked car hadn't gotten in our way.) left me with only some nasty bruises and a bucketload of embarassment.

So, my Honda, here is my final message as you are towed off to junkyard heaven: I'm sorry for being stupid. Thanks for safely ferrying me and my passengers for over 100,000 miles. You served me well.

Super Sunday Shocker

Well, that was an unexpected outcome last night. I mean, who could have predicted that? I guess past success doesn't guarantee future results. Seriously, who would have bet money that...the Super Bowl commercials would have stunk so bad?

Oh, there was big game? I feel it pretty much spoke for itself: monumental upset, perfection derailed, legend born, possibly the greatest Super Bowl ever, blah, blah, blah. The bigger upset was that the ads barely made me smile, let alone chuckle or , God forbid, laugh out loud. Now, it might have been that I spent the first quarter lowering my blood pressure after nearly choking the counter jockey that screwed up our pizza order, but I didn't enjoy many of this year's big ads.

The only ad that made me actually laugh was the giant rat that jumped out of the wall to pummel the Doritos guy. Maybe that man in a rat suit was also the cause of the 75 person brawl that broke out in a Chuck E. Cheese restaurant over the weekend. Other than that ad, I was practically stonefaced. A baby threw up on the keyboard after buying stock. Hahahaha. The cavemen don't know how to use the wheel they just invented. That's a real knee slapper. Oh look, giant carrier pigeons are ruining the city. Thanks, but I've seen Cloverfield. Wait, he sneezes fire? Stop it, my sides hurt. It's a good thing that Tom Petty rocked the house and that the game was outstanding.

One note about the game: Do you think Bill Belichik would have passed on a 49-yard field goal attempt in the third quarter if he still had Adam Vinatieri, the greatest clutch kicker of all time? Sometimes you have to pay for peace of mind, Genius.