Forget MLB in Japan. Forget the opener of Nationals Park last night. Today is the real opening day. Hope springs eternal on one of the great sports days on the calendar. Even the Orioles, for a few more hours at least, are undefeated.
In honor of the O's opener I've posted this link to a YouTube video of former O's Superfan Wild Bill Hagy (RIP Wild Bill, RIP). If you were an O's fan in the 80's you know that Wild Bill was the scraggily-bearded cabby that led the crowd in cheers-most notably spelling out O-R-I-O-L-E-S from the upper deck. The video is kinda long (about 7 minutes), but I promise it is entertaining from start to finish. A Baltimore news magazine follows Wild Bill through a typical gameday experience. From cab, to bar, to game and beyond. You'll laugh and be wistful for those days when the O's were actually competitive.
Today also marks my first foray into fantasy baseball. I'm hoping for some beginner's luck this summer, but I'm afraid I'm off to a foreboding start. My starting second baseman has been placed on the disabled list to heal from an anal fissure. That can't be good; hopefully that doesn't mean my fantasy team is in for a similar fate.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
So Convoluted, I Had To Root For The Bleeping Rangers.
Leave it to playoff hockey to get me off my ass to write again. I say playoff hockey because, even though the regular season isn't over, the race for the last spots in the Eastern Conference is essentially do-or-die each night. The Caps, after tonight's shootout win in Carolina are 2 points out of eighth place and 4 points out of the division lead. It couldn't be much tighter and my heart couldn't be beating much faster. With the Caps stinking in recent years I had forgotten how fun/difficult/gut wrenching that it can be to watch these games. I lean in to every shot, wince at every pinged post and generally dance around like a dope. Tonight, I didn't sit for the entire third period. I'm not sure I'll make it if the Caps actually reach the postseason.
Tonight's Caps game had all the disheartening elements of previous Washington playoff disappointments. As a Caps fan you almost expect the fluky deflection from 40 feet out and a goal that should have been waved off because Erik Cole plowed into the goalie's head before the puck scooted across the line. (I know the defenseman pushed Cole into Huet, but that was only after Cole initiated contact with the goalie.) The dubious refereeing was also disappointing. By dubious, I don't mean bias or favoritism against Washington; if anything I think the NHL would want Ovechkin and the Caps in the playoffs. I just think the officiating is as poor as it is inconsistent. Numerous hooks, holds, trips and cross-checks went uncalled while both teams were nailed for silly, ticky-tack infractions. Make up your mind zebras-call them all or none.
Despite all the disheartening stuff I still believe, if they get in (which is a huge if), that this Caps team can slay the Ghost of Playoffs Past. Alex Ovechkin and the other youngsters have a determination and resillency that past teams have lacked. They will certainly make things exciting. Like eight years as President prematurely ages a man, I think eight weeks of playoff hockey might speed my calendar. Oh well, I'd gladly wash that gray right outta my hair (which I need to do anyway) in exchange for attending a Stanley Cup parade.
Tonight's Caps game had all the disheartening elements of previous Washington playoff disappointments. As a Caps fan you almost expect the fluky deflection from 40 feet out and a goal that should have been waved off because Erik Cole plowed into the goalie's head before the puck scooted across the line. (I know the defenseman pushed Cole into Huet, but that was only after Cole initiated contact with the goalie.) The dubious refereeing was also disappointing. By dubious, I don't mean bias or favoritism against Washington; if anything I think the NHL would want Ovechkin and the Caps in the playoffs. I just think the officiating is as poor as it is inconsistent. Numerous hooks, holds, trips and cross-checks went uncalled while both teams were nailed for silly, ticky-tack infractions. Make up your mind zebras-call them all or none.
Despite all the disheartening stuff I still believe, if they get in (which is a huge if), that this Caps team can slay the Ghost of Playoffs Past. Alex Ovechkin and the other youngsters have a determination and resillency that past teams have lacked. They will certainly make things exciting. Like eight years as President prematurely ages a man, I think eight weeks of playoff hockey might speed my calendar. Oh well, I'd gladly wash that gray right outta my hair (which I need to do anyway) in exchange for attending a Stanley Cup parade.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
"Get on your bikes and ride!"
Figuring that I need to do more to raise my heart rate than put more salt on my fries, I've been riding my bicycle lately in an effort to get more fit. I have a simple coaster-brake, beach cruiser that is a blast to ride. I rarely have a destination; the fun is in the journey. Besides, most destination trips would be problematic. For instance, I can't carry shopping bags and I wouldn't want to show up at work pouring sweat. Riding my bike makes me feel young again, racing across the town the same way my friends and I did in the pre-driver's license days. I know that I don't look young, however, and I think that explains the funny looks I get from passing drivers.
In auto-centric America people seem genuinely perplexed as to why I would ride a bike when I could drive. I get looks that say, "Oh look, that poor dear is too stupid to know that someone invented a machine made of steel, rubber and glass that allows you to travel without manually propelling yourself."
The second look I get is a mix of disdain and pity. "A bike? Well that guy must not have a car or worse yet, is homeless because otherwise he wouldn't be on a bike." Granted, I'm dressed neither for fashion nor obvious fitness cycling. (No spandex here, thank you.) A beat-up sweatshirt, ragged shorts, backpack and tobogan possess a tiny whiff of poverty. (Or coach of the New England Patriots.) On cold days I may even be forced to don that symbol of giving up on life-the sweatpant. I feel like showing the passing motorists that my bag is not loaded with all my belongings, but only some keys, a water bottle and a wallet that sometimes even has money in it.
If passing motorists think I ride because I must, there is another group that thinks my cycling is completely contrived. I sometimes cut across campus at off peak hours because it is one of the few places in town to ride without worrying about traffic. The students cast glances that say, "Nice try, buddy, but we know you're old. No luck fitting in here." I feel like a pervert suspected of riding across campus for the sole purpose of stealing glances at co-eds. Really, it's just becuase I prefer to not be hit by cars. (The exception-The first warm day of spring when every red-blooded man in town wishes he had a justifiable excuse to be on campus.)
The only demographic that gets me and my riding habit is the shabbily dressed walkers I pass on the road. A nod or wave welcomes me to their club of car-free travelers. Maybe they too are out for fitness or possibly to save some gas money. Nah, they are probably just homeless.
In auto-centric America people seem genuinely perplexed as to why I would ride a bike when I could drive. I get looks that say, "Oh look, that poor dear is too stupid to know that someone invented a machine made of steel, rubber and glass that allows you to travel without manually propelling yourself."
The second look I get is a mix of disdain and pity. "A bike? Well that guy must not have a car or worse yet, is homeless because otherwise he wouldn't be on a bike." Granted, I'm dressed neither for fashion nor obvious fitness cycling. (No spandex here, thank you.) A beat-up sweatshirt, ragged shorts, backpack and tobogan possess a tiny whiff of poverty. (Or coach of the New England Patriots.) On cold days I may even be forced to don that symbol of giving up on life-the sweatpant. I feel like showing the passing motorists that my bag is not loaded with all my belongings, but only some keys, a water bottle and a wallet that sometimes even has money in it.
If passing motorists think I ride because I must, there is another group that thinks my cycling is completely contrived. I sometimes cut across campus at off peak hours because it is one of the few places in town to ride without worrying about traffic. The students cast glances that say, "Nice try, buddy, but we know you're old. No luck fitting in here." I feel like a pervert suspected of riding across campus for the sole purpose of stealing glances at co-eds. Really, it's just becuase I prefer to not be hit by cars. (The exception-The first warm day of spring when every red-blooded man in town wishes he had a justifiable excuse to be on campus.)
The only demographic that gets me and my riding habit is the shabbily dressed walkers I pass on the road. A nod or wave welcomes me to their club of car-free travelers. Maybe they too are out for fitness or possibly to save some gas money. Nah, they are probably just homeless.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, February 22, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, February 11, 2008
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.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, February 08, 2008
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.
*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.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
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.
Monday, February 04, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, December 31, 2007
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.
Friday, December 28, 2007
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 .
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 .
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
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.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Happy Halloween !
For those of you who always thought there was something a little "funny" about my brother-in-law.
Friday, October 19, 2007
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.
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