Dream Seats, Nightmare Game

Thanks to the generosity of Amanda's cousin, Amanda and I scored free tix to yesterday's Redskins-Cowboys game. Her seats, third row in the field club (or as the Redskins call them, "dream seats") were great. How great? The blocked field goal in the first quarter landed ten feet from us and was scooped up by the lady sitting three seats down. How great were the seats? I can tell you which cheerleaders had visible panty lines. (Hint: none.) How great? Santana Moss posed right in front of us after his fourth quarter touchdown.

The tradeoff, however, for being so close to the end zone is, of course, that you forfeit all cover from the elements. And boy did it get elemental in a bad way last night. The only thing falling faster than the rain was the temperature. Even though we were dressed for the weather we still got soaked. Waterproof coats, hats, gloves and blanket were no match for Mother Nature. I thought Amanda was on her way to becoming a human popsicle. Fortunately, the field club tickets afford you access to the posh leather and marble club level where we were able to score hot cocoa and thaw during halftime.

While I was dissapointed, but not surprised by the outcome of the game I was pleased that Amanda was able to see her Skins win. The Cowboys had nothing to play for and looked like it. They were awful. Much credit goes to the Redskins who shut down the run and moved the ball at will. This is not the way I wanted the Cowboys to head into the playoffs. If the Skins pull an upset in Seattle (of which they are totally capable), they would likely head to Dallas for the rubber match. I don't want that to happen.

One other highlight from a game experience that was pretty sweet despite the Cowboys' loss:

As I'm standing in line in the men's room this fan starts passing everybody in line like he's going to cut in front of everyone. Just as a couple of us are about to speak up he veers left and enters the janitor's closet. Thirty seconds later he exits with a satisfied smile. The guy behind me nodded admiringly and said "Now there's a veteran move". Good stuff, I just wouldn't want to be the next person to use the mop bucket.

Links to the Past

Since a few new readers have discovered my blog (Thanks guys), I have decided to post links to some of my favorite posts so that, if so inclined, new readers can check out some of my older stuff without having to read all the archived stuff. Check out these links to see my thoughts on:profiling potential terrorists, crazy astronauts,
why I despise Coldstone Creamery ,urinal cakes ,my frustrating weed eater ,space travel , how President Bush has lost my respect, the marketing of the human male and flea markets .

Break Glass, Press Panic Button

Watching clips and reading the text of Olie Kolzig's postgame comments after last night's Caps' loss to Florida has to be disheartening for any Caps fan. Kolzig, generally upbeat and optomistic even after losses, looked despondent sitting at his locker answering questions. He knows, as do all fans, that this team should be better than they are playing. Yes, offseason additions and a 3-0 start fueled unrealistic expectations, but there is no legitimate excuse for this team to be last in the NHL with 13 points in 20 games. Hell, the league absurdly gives you a point for losing in overtime and they can't even do that more than once. That 3-0 start provided a glimpse of the success this team is capable of producing. Now, one quarter into the season, hopes for the playoffs are already on life support.

So what's the problem?

First, let's list what isn't wrong:

1- Alex Ovechkin. In his third season this guy just keeps improving. On pace to score 53+ goals, this guy is dominating at both ends of the ice, dramatically improving his defensive coverage and ramping up his hitting. Unfortunately, he has accounted for 30 percent of the Caps' goals and is playing a burnout-beckoning 29+ minutes per game. The fact that the Caps haven't locked this guy up long-term is also a little scary. This should be a no-brainer. Now that Teddy L. has put all his marketing eggs in Ovie's basket he needs to pay the kid before he hits his restricted free agent summer. Somebody will break the bank with an offer too rich for Leonsis's AOL-sapped bottom line. Make no mistake-if Ovechkin leaves no amount of compensatory draft picks will fill the half of Verizon Center that isn't already empty for every game.

2- The Goaltending. While sketchy at times, the goaltending has been pretty solid overall. I don't love Brent Johnson as a backup and Kolzig has slipped a hair, however, in the high flying new NHL any GAA under 3.00 is fairly respectable.

3.- The Defense. It hasn't been great, but has improved markedly from the matadors the team was putting on ice the last few years.

Well, that leaves the problems. I'll keep the first two short: The new aquisitions are not paying off and nobody besides Ovie can find the back of the net. Michel Nylander has more wiggle than Rosie O'Donnell on a trampoline, but his dancing rarely results in shots on goal. I love what I've seen from Viktor Kozlov thus far-except when it comes to shooting the puck. He is a terrific passer, smooth skater, strong on the puck, but when it comes to shooting, pick your favorite sports cliche-"couldn't hit the side of a barn", "couldn't hit water if he fell out of a boat"-you get the idea. Unfortunately, it's not just Kozlov. I've never seen a Caps team have so much trouble getting shots on goal. They zing wristers 6 inches wide of the post, bury snap shots into the goaltender's belly and blast one-time slapshots into skates and shinguards. Maybe the team misread the memo that said the league was considering making the goals wider. Not yet boys, not yet. (By the way, I hope that never happens.)

Finally, I think the Caps' biggest problem is the coach. I have been loathe to call for Glen Hanlon's head because he seems like a nice guy who played shepherd to a less than talented, floundering flock in the dark days following the gutting and fire sale of the Jagr era. However, for whatever reason, Hanlon is unable to push the right buttons now. Constant line juggling has afforded no time to create chemistry. In-game adjustments are one thing. Ovechkin playing at least a shift with every other forward is another altogether. When they were bad the last two years the Caps were known as a hard working team that was difficult to play against. Not anymore. The team's effort level waxes and wanes from period to period. Yet, I still don't think a new motivational voice is the biggest reason to dump Hanlon. After all, as Kolzig said, "How many times do you need to be shocked?".

The main reason for a change is that the Caps lack a dynamic, puck-moving system. Maybe because Hanlon was so adept at making things work with less talent, he is unable to adapt his system to accomodate playmakers. The formula has reversed itself and now he is turning the proverbial chicken salad back into something else.

The power play, which promised to be much better thanks to the aquisitions, has been anemic. There is no creativity as everyone stands around the umbrella waiting for Ovechkin to launch bombs from the point. Tired and predictable will not get the job done. As my friend Killer succinctly put it the other day-"Is Scotty Bowman still alive?" I can't stand Scotty Bowman, but don't forget, he actually raised a Stanley Cup in Verizon Center.

As Yogi Berra once said, "It's getting late early" If Teddy L. doesn't do something soon this season will crash and the Great 8 will walk right out of the red, white and blue leaving an empty shell at the corner of 7th and F streets.

15 Seconds of Fame.

Finally, acting ridiculous has paid off. A few friends and I attended the Caps-Lightning hockey game Saturday night. We had a fun, beer-soaked time, as usual, but this game was a bit sweeter for me thanks to being goofy and having a little good timing.

Because we felt the need to look like jackasses in addition to acting like ones, we decided to wear our hockey helmets to the game. (Safety first!) Little did I know that this decision would pay off literally.

As we were doing some pre-game souvenir shopping our group was approached by Sarah, a member of the Caps promotional staff. She was recruiting people to take part in one of the intermission contests and said she had followed us into the shop because she just new the helmet guys would be the perfect pick. I'm still not sure how, but I was selected from the group to take place in a fan announcer contest to take place after the first period.

Briefly, the contest would work like this: My fellow competitor and I would take turns doing play-by-play announcing for a short Capitals video highlight. We would be seen on the jumbotron scoreboard screen and heard over the PA system. The winner would be determined by audience applause. Reluctantly, I accepted the gig and headed to our seats. Sarah would come get me after the first period to take me down near the ice where the contest would take place.

I nervously spent the first period trying to tamp down the butterflies and deciding how I could be funny on the Jumbotron, oh, and watch part of the game, as well. We tried to find some funny things to work into my brief commentary. Wolske, ever the entrprenuer, jokingly lamented the fact that we had no time to get a sponsorship deal for the front of my helmet. We talked about how cool this was, but I decided that, though I didn't want it to happen, this moment would be even more legendary in our lore if I completely bombed during the contest.

After the period, Sarah escorted me to the lower level and it was time. Next thing I know, my competitor (Patrick, I think) and I are on the giant four-sided scoreboard hanging above center ice. I bet my mug on that screen made Ted Leonsis rethink his decision to put in that new high-definition video system. Fortunately, the other guy went first, so I got to see what I was up against. His performance left a little to be desired( I'm sure he was as nervous as I was) and he got little applause and even a few boos.

I took the mike and did my brief play-by-play, deciding to play it straight and not be real stupid about it. Though in the middle, in the way that your brain can process a thought instantaneously while you are doing something else, I decided to squeeze in a partial line from "Slapshot". I figured by saying that Kozlov "skated up the milky white ice" I would lose the contest, but at least I would have made my buddies laugh. Well, either lots of Slapshot fans thought it was funny or many people felt sorry for the "special" guy in the helmet because I received a fair bit of applause and won the contest. "Bryan Hailey, the pride of Salisbury, Maryland" as the Caps public address annoncer called me, was victorious. My prize? A new Caps jersey (retail price $115) autographed by a bunch of players.

The funniest part, however, was that I was recognized around the arena for the rest of the night. As I walked back to my seat I was greeted with lots of pointing and shouting.

"Hey, I voted for you man!"

"Weren't you the guy up on the screen?"

"Aren't you that guy ?"

I even got cheered by my section when I got back to my seats. It was all so stupid and silly that it was hilarious.

Because the Caps got waxed 5-2 and I have funny memories from lots of games we've attended, this was not the Best Game Ever, but it sure ranks up there. And, of course, we've decided that helmets are now mandatory game day attire.

While I failed to get a picture of me in my helmet, I did include some other pics from the evening.

Happy Halloween !

For those of you who always thought there was something a little "funny" about my brother-in-law.

Caps Practice Pics.

I spent Friday in the DC area with my dad and Killer. Among other things, we visited the Caps new practice facility in Arlington. Talk about sweet- two full size rinks, offices and a pro shop. It is super fan-friendly, as well. There are plenty of comfortable bleachers and, as it was at Piney Orchard, you can stand right next to the glass to observe the players and coaches. It always amazes me to watch these skilled players up close from a vantage point that I would have to pay top dollar for at a game. I got some great pics-here are a few.

Thumbs way up for "The Kingdom"

What is it about religion and lines drawn on a map that strips us of our humanity?

Today Amanda and I saw The Kingdom starring Jamie Foxx, Jennifer Garner and the always great Chris Cooper. Obviously, it is fictional, but it paints a chilling portrait of the evils of terrorism and the devastating toll incurred by its victims, opponents and even the families of its perpertrators. The film never portrays terrorists in even a gray area-the bad guys are the bad guys. It does, however, show the cost the investigators pay to track down the terrorist villians.

The film looks unflinchingly at the collateral damage and sheer death and destruction wrought by the terrorists and those seeking to avenge their handiwork. Please don't misuderstand, I am in no way saying that terrorists shouldn't be tracked, caught and punished. I simply can't understand what drives people to do these things to each other. The price paid should be too high for intelligent human beings to treat each other this way. This tear-inducing film serves as an artistic representation of the sad facts that are all too real.

Cornucopia of Crap

Is there a broader, more representative snapshot of today's America than the Saturday morning open air flea market? Part time machine, part smelly armpit, the flea market is the great melting pot of class, culture and cleanliness. You have folks who peddle their junk every week trying to eke out a living. Next to them you have suburbanites trying to unload part of their gluttonous accumulation of stuff they really don't need. Toothless country boys and soccer moms, who would never associate in any other circumstance, chat away sitting on the tailgates of overstuffed SUVs and El Caminos. During a twenty minute walk-thru you can hear four or five different languages spoken. Haggling, arguing, laughing-it's a beautiful thing.



And don't get me wrong, not all the crap is really crap. There are valuable collectibles and teriffic hand-crafted jewelry items. Then there is my level of crap- beer signs, Smurf glasses, baseball cards. For the most part I just window shop because we already fall into that earlier category of gluttonous overcollectors. But when it comes down to it, most of the crap is Crap with a capital C. I found tables of ashtrays, old shoes, books for every fad diet of the last twenty years and VHS tapes for bad Pauly Shore movies. (I suppose that last item was redundant.) And Knives! It was like Ninjas-R-Us with all the knives, swords and throwing stars. Since I have given up my career as a carnival knife-thower I pushed past these tables and wandered about buying nothing, simply enjoying the sounds and smells of diversity.

"Don't Taze Me, Bro"

How do you feel about the college kid tossed from the Kerry speech for "protesting" too passionately? Some feel he was a free voice unjustly brutalized by overzealous campus cops. Some feel he was a publicity seeking punk who should have buttoned his lip when enough was enough. I tend to split the middle-He was a little disruptive, but I really don't think they needed to blast him with 50,000 volts.


I think most can agree, however, that there is a good chance that "Don't Taze Me, Bro" will be the latest catchphrase sensation to sweep the nation. i think the only hiccup for the burgeoning "Don't Taze Me, Bro" t-shirt and bumper sticker business may be deciding how to spell Taze. I like using the "z". It sounds strong, hinting at danger and action. But I could get on board with using the "s". All I really know for sure is that the video is pretty humorous and seeing it made my Tuesday. See part of the video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tCBcOQkUNjI

Dear President Bush...

Mr Bush,

My regret for casting a vote for you seven years ago is exceeded only by the disappointment I feel knowing that my uncast vote three years ago was not the one that prevented you from retaining your position. Not that you care, but let me tell you why I no longer support you. I have watched wire taps and an absent-minded attorney general. I've listened to a man named Scooter and I've carried my shampoo in a clear plastic bag. I didn't say much because those weren't "big deals" . However, enough is enough. You've crossed an offensive line with me.

You are building a legacy on the strong but overworked backs of our armed forces. I find this as distasteful as it is unfathomable. This volunteer army is not a life preserver for you to cling to as you tread water through the rest of your term. With benchmarks unmet and goals ever-shifting, when will "more time" be "enough time"? Buying time with American blood until you can wash your hands of a failed policy is surely conduct unbecoming the Commander-In -Chief.

Both a general and ambassador came to Washington this week to provide you cover by half-heartedly defending the current policy. They, despite their colorful charts and reams of statistics, were unable to say whether Americans are safer for having prosecuted this war. If that one fundamental question can not be answered in the affirmative then riddle me this-For what has America spilled her blood and why should she continue to do so?

You have the power to stop this. Oh, sure, you addressed the nation Thursday, peddling your plan to have some troops return home. You let us know that your plan allows those who view victory in Iraq as essential and those who want the troops home to be on the same side. I almost forgot, you are a uniter not a divider. Too bad your idea to bring troops home falls woefully short. And never mind that you do not clearly define victory.

Now before you hastily judge me, know this: I am not a Democrat nor an unpatriotic hippie or any other condascending label you may wish to apply. I will not be made to feel weaker, smaller or less intelligent simply because I do not support this war. I am a reasonably smart citizen who understands that freedom isn't free and that sacrifices are necessary to defend America. I also know that it is possible to both support our troops and disdain this war. Leaving Iraq now does not dishonor those who have lost their lives there; continuing to push forward in uncertainty does.

Putting the Fun in Dysfunctional

Reminder: "It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia" begins in its new season Thursday night at 10pm. This is one wacky show that consistently makes me laugh. FX is on quite a roll; NIp/Tuck has slipped a bit, but Sunny and Rescue Me are strong. Enjoy.

THe Sadness Remains.

When I read a few weeks ago that MSNBC would be airing NBC's actual coverage of the events of 9-11-2001 on the sixth anniversary, I was unsure how I felt about that decision. Is it indeed "living history" as they billed it or unjustified sensationalism? Will it it be any more painful than watching the myriad memorials that are sure to air anyway? After watching the 3+ hours of unedited footage, I still don't know if it was necessary, helpful or hurtful, but it certainly was fascinating.

Being a bit of a news junkee and having been at work when the events unfolded six years ago I wanted to check out some of the coverage. Obviously, I have seen the unspeakable images many times since they occured, yet I found it morbidly spellbinding. I was pinned to my couch for the entire three hours. It was interesting to watch journalists, some caught in the middle of the news itself, struggle to process the information as it flooded in and to comprehend the images they were seeing. I am often critical of the overdramatic nature of news coverage, but this was an instance when there was no hyperbole. I believe it impossible to overstate the drama that was all too real. Watching the attacks progress, the information trickle in and the confusion reign gave me the uneasy goosebumps that six years have failed to dispel. The wound is still raw and watching the horrific images and frightening realization of the magnitude of the story unfold did nothing to salve that wound. Right or wrong that was likely MSNBC's intent all along.

Do My Eyes and Ears Deceive Me?

A handful of improbable things that I've seen and heard today:

- Today is Pee Wee Herman's 55th birthday. The word of the day is senior discount.

- Celebrated, notorious fat guy David Wells legged out a bunt single Sunday night. Nice to see a pitcher and a fellow member of the Big Man's Club showing some athleticism.

-Michael Vick spoke to the media after his plea hearing without the aid of a prepared written statement. He appeared to speak from the heart (sorry for the cliche), without notes or a PR spin. I give him big credit for that. He fell short of the hat trick of improbability, however, when he referred to himself in the third person and left the podium without taking questions.

-Alberto Gonzales made a public appearance without uttering the phrase "I don't recall"

It's only 12:20. Who knows what other unbelievable events I will yet witness today.

Freedom of Speech...When Convenient.

Hilarious straight news storyabout the White House's playbook for dealing with dissent-spewing protesters. I wish this was fake news on The Onion. Alas, it's all too real. (Let me also add that I know every candidate/prez probably has a similar playbook. But i bet they are not as funny as this one.)

Presidential Balls

Boy, the president sure has some stones doesn't he? Where to begin? After years of denying any paralells between Iraq and Vietnam, the Prez now finds it convenient to compare an Iraq withdrawal with the withdrawal in Vietnam. I need to do more research, but I think he was even incorrect about the impact of civilian casualties in Cambodia that followed the Vietnam withdrawal.

I don't even know why he would even pick at the scab of Vietnam. One would think he'd try to keep from comparing his current effort to another bungled war that lasted too long and meandered through time with uncertain planning and focus. Did he reference Vietnam for the lessons learned? He and Deferment Dick certainly didn't learn any lessons first hand there. The speech today was as troubling as it was improbable.

As a side note- Mr al-Maliki needs a little attitude adjustment as far as I'm concerned. His balls are busting out of his pants as well - We "can find friends elsewhere". Are you kidding me? Why on earth are we staying on the ground in Iraq if the Iraqi government doesn't care whether we leave or not? Fuck off and take care of your own disaster.

Waiting For The Other Spiked Shoe to Drop.

My grandfather recently graciously gave me his set of golf clubs that he doesn't use anymore. They are quality Tommy Armour clubs that are far nicer than my game deserves. When it comes to golf I have always been more Hulk Hogan than Ben Hogan. Now, after a day at the range and playing 18 holes, I am convinced my grandfather sent me magic clubs. I finished today's round with four pars and a birdie. This is like Paris Hilton scoring 1400 on her SATs. Granted, we were playing at shabby, short Horsebridge, but did you hear me? Four pars and a birdie! And the bird was even on a par four. Drive 30 yds short of the green, chip to within 6 feet of the cup and sink the putt. That's exactly how I usually play that hole except for the ten minutes I usually spend in the corn field searching for my errant drive, the ensuing wild approach shot that screams over the green into the woods on the other side and the three putt from 15 feet. Other than that it's exactly the same. Just as a good craftsman never blames his tools, a poor craftsman must credit his tools when he turns in some fine workmanship. These clubs are great. Of course, actually rotating your hips and keeping your lead arm straight doesn't hurt either.

So what's the problem? Why do I sense that other shoe hovering overhead? Because the golf gods hate me, that's why. Mr. Optimism here is convinced that the gods are toying with me. They let me have just enough success today to lure me back for another round. They are waiting for my next venture so they can crush my newfound confidence. They will howl with glee when I stub a chip shot three feet or blow a six foot putt ten feet past the hole. That's why I love golf and why I hate golf. You can hit a fantastic shot that feels so good and the next minute you can botch the hole with such an unbelievably poor shot that it makes you want to punch yourself in the nuts just to forget the pain. You get just enough taste of fun to tempt you back. Damn you golf gods! Oh, and I'll see you next week.

756. Woopity Doo.

I have some thoughts about Barry Bonds being the new home run king of major league baseball, but I don't care enough to put together a cohesive post. So here is a sprinkling of ideas, beefs and opinions about the many different aspects of this story.

Bottom line-Barry's the all-time leader. Despite the circumstantial evidence, nothing has been proven. There should be no asterisk and Bud Selig should have been there.

Baseball, you looked the other way when all these hulksters beefed up. You made your bed, now lay(lie? I never get this correct) in it.

Yes, Barry all these other guys, and pitchers too, probably cheated, but that doesn't excuse your behavior. Two, or fifty, wrongs don't make a right.

I don't know how many fewer homers Bonds would have without performance enhancers. It might be 10, it might be 110. My biggest issue with the steroids is not the extra strength, it is the healing power. The steroids help players recover from injury and fatigue quicker. This could, obviously, aid an older player greatly.

Barry Bonds, without performance enhancers, would still have been one of the top five players of all-time. I guess that just wasn't enough for him. That's the thing that I find particularly galling.

If Barry wasn't guilty of something would his trainer have agreed to sit in jail for the last year instead of testifying before the grand jury?

As a lifelong baseball fan I have always enjoyed watching the "big" moments. It ties the present to the past, weaving it into the fabric of the game, blah blah blah. Ripken passing the Iron Horse, Kirk Gibson's homer, several no-hitters-it's always a joy to watch these events live. Watching Bonds ( I missed the homer live by just minutes) pass Hank Aaron has been a joyless event. I feel a bit cheated by that. Not that Barry Bonds owes me a thing.

I Won't Reveal How Many Candles.

Please indulge me a moment to wish a happy birthday to my beautiful wife, Amanda. I'm fortunate to have such a smart, sexy, capable lady as my partner in this crazy adventure that we've undertaken together. Whether it's balancing the checkbook, massaging my sore knee or making me laugh, she maintains our world in so many ways; I'd be lost without her.

In addition to working hard and keeping me straight, she has taken on many new challenges in the last year. She made the leap to Salisbury University last fall and has succeeded on many levels. Two semesters later she has made two stops on the Dean's list, maintained her scholarship, joined the Best Buddies mentoring group and has been published in the school paper. Her work at the paper earned her a spot as the Feature Editor for the upcoming year. Her tireless effort is exceeded only by my pride in her accomplishments. Today I celebrate her- Happy Birthday, Sweetheart.

Also, a quick happy birthday wish to Amanda's birthday buddy St4rbux and Killer who celebrates later in the week.

Does anyone care?

During the Democratic/AFL-CIO debate tonight, trade (obviously) was a very big topic. In one answer regarding China Barack Obama stated that Americans would gladly pay more for products made in the USA if it meant more jobs here. This seems obvious and it sounds reasonable in theory, but I wonder if that is the reality. In a time when so many people are not engaged in things that really matter I wonder how many shoppers a) make that connection and b) care enough to make the choice. If I walked through WalMart tonight and polled shoppers I think I would get very different results than Mr Obama assumes. People love to have things to bitch about, but are often unwilling to pay the price, literally and figuratively, to make positive change. Too often folks look out for number one and ignore the big picture. Thoughts?

Fight Night.

At the bookstore we have quite a diverse mix of employees so there are always interesting conversations to wander in and out of. I'd like your input on one we had last night. If you could fight anyone dead or alive who would it be? Actually, pick one dead and one alive. The debate hinged on whether you would want to fight someone who would be a true challenge or someone who really needed an ass-beating. A sampling of answers from last night:



Andy Warhol- because it was just a damn soup can!
Hannibal - because he was a badass who rode elephants and would be a tough draw
Donald Trump and Ann Coulter -for general obnoxiousness
Hitler- obvious (but too easy an answer)

I almost had one guy convinced that I would pick Orville Redenbacher because my family started Jiffy Pop and our empire would have been larger if not for that kindly old popcorn peddler.

My alive pick is Jared from Subway. How many calories in this knuckle sandwich?

My dead pick is Elvis Presley. Jumpsuits, jack?