Last week, another terrorist attack took center stage, this time in Mumbai, but the repercussions of the horrific events could extend well into the New Year, hampering President-elect Obama's stated goal of destroying the Taliban and routing out Al Qaeda early in his first term. India and Pakistan's relationship has teetered on the precipice of all out war for decades, but the Mumbai attacks present fresh challenges for a weak Pakistani government and a democratic India. Both nations are highly suspicious of each other and incidents like the Mumbai attacks only heighten tensions between the two. Recent attacks by Pakistani militants on India's Parliament and its Embassy in Afghanistan had already heightened tensions, and political rivals of Prime Minister Monmohan Singh have increased their criticism of perceived inaction. The Bush administration was able to quell a hostile reaction by the Indian government after the previous attacks, but they, or the new administration, must succeed in halting India again.
The United States must prevent India and Pakistan from escalating the conflict for two reasons.First, they both possess nuclear weapons, have stated their intention to deploy them should a conflict arise, and already have troops stationed on the disputed Kashmir border.Secondly, were Pakistan to reposition troops along the Eastern border, the Pakistani militants on the Afghanistan border they have struggled to contain will be emboldened, further dampening U.S. efforts to capture Osama Bin Laden and rout out Al Qaeda.Pakistan must be forthcoming, India’s patience is imperative, and the global community must not allow these attacks to erode the diplomatic progress made between the two nations.
This is a new ad from the Obama campaign that illuminates why John McCain is the wrong choice in these troubled times. Check it out....
It's political genius. Whether it will have the historical significance of Regan's "Bear" ad or Johnson's "Daisy" ad can not be discerned at this point, but I think it has the potential. Let me know what you think.
Another 200 point drop in the Dow is enough to resuscitate the West Coast Flow. Jesus Christ. We're so royally screwed it's unbelievable. Since September 29, the day Congress failed to pass the bailout, the Dow has dropped 1885.03. I never asked my grandparents about life during the Great Depression, but it appears I'll discover it for myself. The situation is dire and it appears there are no easy answers, but the politicians in Washington have instilled any confidence in the American public that they can solve this crisis. The failure of leadership starting with the President, Treasury Secretary Paulson, Fed Chairman Ben Bernanke and both presidential candidates has been shocking. However, it appears the lions share of the blame lies with the U.S. Congress. Instead of holding their respective noses and voting for a bill that would help keep the credit market afloat, and more importantly, instill confidence in the market, the House Republicans and some Democrats voted against doing what was best for the country. We stand at the brink of economic collapse, yet politicians of both parties put their own electoral prospects ahead of doing the right thing. The folks at FiveThirtyEight.com prove this point. As a result, McDonald's, Caterpiller and other large corporations have either received short term loans with much higher interest rates or been flat out rejected because banks supposedly do not have the cash. Small businesses may have to lay off employees if they don't receive short term loans to cover payroll, forcing the economy into a deep recession.
Despite the broad perception that the credit market is baren, and pundits describing the greatest economic catastrophe in U.S. history, I have not heard anyone declare there is actually NO cash in the credit market. Last week, Citigroup and Wells Fargo tried to acquire Wachovia, JPMorgan swallowed Washington Mutual and Warren Buffet dumped $8 billion (with a B) into Goldman Sachs and General Electric. Think about this...despite the chaos, two of the larger financial institutions in the country had the cash necessary to take over two huge banks and one man propped up two of the greatest institution in America by himself. While it may be tempting to claim the sky is falling and imagine life in a soup line, the system is not broken yet. America and the world needs leadership. Neither BarackObama nor John McCain have seized the day and offered the kind of direction this tremendous moment requires. With 27 days left in this campaign, I'm not sure we'll get that from either candidate but if our leaders don't step up soon and restore some confidence in the economy, those days my grandparents lived through may become our reality.
Alright Senator...Out with it. You've played the game well. The Media has devoured the hype and exhausted all possibilities (even Gov Phil Bredesen, D-TN) for heaven's sakes. Announce the pick. I know I didn't sign up for the text message announcement and you've enjoyed stringing democrats along but give it up. Several great options are out there including Governor Bredsen but if you could just give Adam here a heads up, I'd greatly appreciate it.
In all seriousness, Team Obama has played his perfectly. It's 3:30 on the Friday before the convention and all anybody can talk about is who the VP pick is. Sitting here in a Caribou Coffee shop on 14th and Rhode Island Ave, everyone is in a tizzy. I've counted 12 people candidly discussing who they want or which man or woman will carry which state. I think Biden is the best choice for what he brings to the ticket from a foreign policy standpoint and someone who could help him get legislation passed. He'd be a great attack dog and would mop the floor with Mitt Romney or Tim Pawlenty in a debate. Clearly, my opinion is what matters here so Senator, go ahead and do it. Announce Biden.
Anne and I got a decent nights sleep, waking up at 4:30 am and getting on the road to Denver. We faced a 12 hour drive from Phoenix to Denver and would lose an hour after crossing into New Mexico. Anne took the first leg of the day to Albuquerque and unfortunately got slammed with a weather front moving north on I-17 between Phoenix and Flagstaff. The severe undulation of the highway couldn't have made driving the slightest bit enjoyable. This being her first long drive from behind the wheel of my jeep, I was a tad concerned how she'd handle it. Never fear. Mario Andretti bombed up I-17 like she'd logged hundreds of hours at Indy. I nodded on and off but couldn't fall into a deep sleep to make up what I lost in San Diego.
After passing through Flagstaff, we turned onto I-40. Out of nowhere, the same rock formations that I saw on on my trip west popped up. I truly enjoyed actually getting to check out the terrain without focusing on the road. The mile-long trains, random cliffs and small pockets of weather on the horizon were an absolute treat. Anne pushed us through another storm before coming up behind a old Chevy blazer with clumps of mud dropping off the back right tire. As we sputtered along, the frequency of the mud clumps increased before all of a sudden a big chunk fell, bouncing twice on the highway before plowing right into the left side of my car. We didn't notice anything immediately wrong and continued on to Albuquerque. It wasn't until we pulled off the highway and switched roles that I noticed a problem with the left blinker. The blinker flicked rapidly signaling a problem on the left side. Sure enough, the mud rock crushed the driver side front cover and light bulb. Fortunately, the good folks at Auto Zone built the most convenient location across the street from a Subway and the gas station that we used to fill up. Clearly, they knew some day I would roll into this exact location needing a light bulb and realized how important it was to keep the Liberty in good(ish) shape.
With the bulb replaced and our appetite's satiated, we made the proper left at Albuquerque and headed north to Denver. At this point, some of you may be questioning our decision to drive north when our stated goal was to get to Maryland. We planned to visit Anne's good friend from the 2004 Democratic Convention who lived in Denver and was working on the 2008 convention. While we sat in Subway, we briefly debated ditching the drive to Denver and just stopping somewhere in Texas or Oklahoma. Yes, trekking to Denver lengthened our drive by 5 hours, but the cost of a motel room was greater than the gas to get to Denver and we'd be stuck at a Best Western in the middle of nowhere Texas with nothing to do. Onward and Upward (literally) the Liberty rumbled towards Denver on I-25. Within minutes, Anne was out cold. She had just driven for 6 hours and I queued up a podcast from the Tony Kornheiser show, but I assumed I'd get 25 -30 minutes. I relived a couple episodes where he discussed Tiger's triumph at Torrey and the culmination of the Democratic primaries over about 3 hours really getting my first leg off to a good start.
The drive through northern New Mexico into Southern Colorado was really peaceful. The road was wide open with no cops and beautiful scenery in every location. I set the cruise control to 85 and soaked in the massive evergreen trees framed by large mountains. After the initial three hour segment, the continental divide approached and what a sight it was. Off to the left, the snow-capped Rockies sprung into the sky at an awesome inclination I had never seen before. To the right flat plains stretched on forever, with random hay bales and cows every couple miles. Anne woke up after a little while and promptly exalted "Holy..." when she looked out the windows. The dramatic change of the landscape is truly beyond belief. After she was sufficiently awake, and we were an hour into Colorado, we listened to Eddie Murphy's hit comedy "Delirious" It wasn't long before we saw signs for Denver; the day was drawing to a close. Once we got through Colorado Springs and passed the Air Force Academy, anxiousness overcame us. 11 straight hours of driving, stopping only for gas and food, was sinking in and we were so close. The traffic congestion began to increase and all of a sudden Invesco field appeared to the west. We were in Denver and merely 6 exits from Diana's apartment. A couple right turns and a left, down one block and we were there. Pushing the gearshift through neutral, reverse, and finally park felt tremendous. DENVER...GORGEOUS!
By now, most of you are aware that we made it back in one piece. But... we made it back to the east coast in one piece! Even more surprising, we made it back on schedule with minutes to spare. Anne and I packed the Liberty to the gills and were fresh off 2 hours sleep when we got on the road. We didn't get more than 6 blocks from the house, we before turning around, realizing that a few items were left behind. Finally, at about 5:30 A.M., I got the Liberty on the I-8, cruising East through Mission Valley, El Cajon (once referred to by the Nashville Marriott as "El CaJohn") and into the Imperial Valley. I drove into San Diego on the same route but developed a greater appreciation for how vast California is on the way out. Quickly, one realizes that California could be the World's 5th largest economy. Farmland stretched for miles across an area I assumed to be desert and the towns were surprisingly large despite the vast area between them.
We got to Yuma, Arizona without any issues, and after gassing up I made a predictable pit stop at the Yuma, AZ McDonalds. Several months have passed since I last enjoyed the hearty canadian bacon and mass produced egg product delicately placed between two soft english muffins. As expected, it did not disappoint. Preceded by a warm Hash brown, the Egg McMuffin was chased by a frosty large orange juice. The #1 breakfast meal at McDonalds is second only to quality Eggs Benadict in my book, but it's a strong second. We passed through a couple Immigration checkpoints on the highway before coming up on a Homeland Security border patrol agent on the left shoulder with flashing lights. I started slowing down immediately and then noticed an agent getting out of his vehicle and walking towards oncoming traffic waving his arms in the air. As we approached the agent it appeared he was attempting to halt traffic. I couldn't stop the Liberty before we passed the agent so he waved us on and then stepped into th e center of the left lane halting traffic behind us. While it was strange, there didn't appear to be any emergency directly ahead so I continued driving. After roughly a mile, traffic came to a halt and people were getting out of their vehicles. Fortunately, I haven't been subject to these situations often and hesitated opening the door to check out what commotion lay ahead. However, like any other male, my curiosity was too great to tame and I got out and walked up to the next car hoping to see something. Sure enough, a helicopter was parked in the center of the highway and emergency vehicles were attending to a car off the left side of the road. While all this commotion transpired ahead, a grey Toyota Prius plunged off the road on the westbound lane before re-gaining control and spinning onto the road. The driver pulled onto the shoulder, collected his thoughts and then got out of his car, walking back towards the minivan parked on the shoulder behind him. As the gentleman got closer he began shouting and pointing his fingers in the air at the minivan. So not only did we have a critical accident on the east bound lane but some maniac was getting ready to pick a fight with another car on the side of the road. Within seconds, two border patrol agents arrived and disrupted that situation but it appeared as if the driver of the Prius had a legitimate complaint against because the agent left his car and had an animated discussion with the people occupying the minivan. Half an hour passed before the helicopter took off and traffic resumed it's normal flow but one thing I can surmise from this event; the Border Patrol agents responding to the accident hadn't seen this much action in a very long time.
Despite that setback, Anne and I made it to her cousin Liz's house in Phoenix before noon; not terrible time considering the hour long pit stop on I-8. Liz made a wonderful lunch for the two of us and her adorable 5 year-old son Max. Max is the man. Not only does he read at a 4th grade level but he's got sick freestyle dance moves he eagerly displayed and a deep admiration for all things superhero. I'm pretty sure when he grows up, Max wants to be a combination of Ironman and Spiderman. Liz, Max and Anne went to the pool while I took the deepest nap possible. It was 112 degrees outside and the pool seemed like a great idea, but getting some rest after 2 hours of sleep on a twin air mattress that only fit Anne and my right shoulder was the wiser choice. When the group got back, everybody showered and the 4 of us grabbed sushi at this very hip restaurant outside of Phoenix that served with blue wasabi and delicious cocktails for the ladies that were incredible. Normally, blue wasabi would be enough to shock the senses, but more astounding were the people willingly sitting outside. Sure, the restaurant had a mist machine on top of the tables but it was 112 degrees outside. Some may remark that the heat is "dry heat" but it's still 112 degrees of dry heat. Safely inside, we enjoyed a a delicious meal before heading back home to get some sleep. A couple hours later, I met up with my buddy Greg for a couple beers and our annual political discussion before calling it a night and preparing for the 12 hour drive to Denver. Day 1 in the books!
On Monday, my worst fears were confirmed. C.C. Sabathia was traded to the Milwaukee Brewers in a deal that brought a top prospect back to the Tribe. Ever since contract negotiations broke down between the Indians and Sabathia in the spring, this outcome was likely even though I prayed it wouldn't come to this. For the first time in my life, I've had to emotionally come to grips with my favorite player being traded in the prime of his career, someone who grew up in the organization, and is representation of all that is good in baseball. My affection for C.C. probably stemmed from the fact that he's a fat kid just like me and at 6'9" 300 lbs, throws fucking heat.
My emotions have been all over the place over the past week when it became apparent that he was on his way out. Due to injuries and an inept offense, the Indians sit in last place of the A.L. Central (even behind the Kansas City Royals) with no shot of getting to the playoffs. On top of the deep disappointment from being a last place team a year after sitting one game away from the World Series, I'll likely never see my favorite players pitch for my Indians ever again. Most of my friends will never have to go through such a thing. Those fans of the Yankees, Red Sox, Mets, Patriots, Knicks, Cubs, Dodgers etal. will never have to go through this. You can always afford to give your favorite all star as much money as he wants. The Patriots will never be forced to trade away Tom Brady because they can't afford him and don't even get me started with the Yankees, that argument makes itself. The Mets won't trade Jose Reyes and the Knicks buy every high priced talent who will never fit into their system. Arguably the best pitcher in baseball, Sabathia couldn't stay in Cleveland because his talent demanded at least a 6 year, $125 million deal. In February, we offered him a 4 year, $74 million contract and under pressure from the Union and his agent, C.C. rejected the offer. In my gut, I know he's worth more than that and I want my favorite player to get what he is due for his tremendous performance. In the end, Sabathia will likely end up with one of those teams I mentioned above because they sit in a big market with their own TV contracts and incredible revenue production. For every time somebody gives me shit for being a fair-weather fan, I will point to the fact that my favorite baseball team couldn't pay my favorite player to keep him with the club he loves and grew up playing for, and the argument will be over.
I wish Carsten Charles all the best with the Brewers. I hope he leads them to the playoffs where they beat the Yanks or the Sox in the World Series and he is named M.V.P. I hold out hope that some day, the Indians will be able to keep some of their talent. This kid Matt LaPorta may be the real deal and I won't doubt Mark Shapiro's eye for talent. He did trade away Bartolo Colon (who hasn't really lived up to the expectations) for Grady Sizemore and Cliff lee. We've got other talent in the farm and if a few guys can get their heads out of their collective asses we might make another run deep into October. Who knows...maybe, just maybe, the Indians will bring a World Series trophy to Cleveland.
It's official. I'm moving back to the east coast. On July 19th, The Liberty is pushing east, ending my adventure on the left coast a bit sooner than expected. I've had a phenomenal time out here in San Diego. It's a great city and working for a company like Qualcomm has been a very good experience. Who could possibly hate living 2 blocks from the beach, going for runs along the boardwalk at sunset and playing golf all year, including Christmas day. These are some of the many things I will miss back on the East coast. I came to this conclusion several weeks ago after getting into Law School and ultimately deciding not to go. It's a strange development considering I've been thinking about going to law school for as long as I can remember. A funny thing did happen as the year progressed however. I realized how much I miss politics and campaigns. For days and weeks on end, I probably spent more time at work reading about the primary campaigns and the upcoming presidential election and couldn't help but suppress my desire to get back in the game.
The best part about making the move is I somehow convinced Anne to move back with me. As many of you know, she was essentially the reason I moved out to San Diego in the first place. By now I hope she's realized I'm not nearly as cool as I think I am and that whatever visions of grandeur she may have had about my general personality have been brought back to the proper level...that of inadequacy. Her family is from Maryland so of all the places for a boyfriend to convince her to move to, Washington D.C. is not he worst. I'm really excited, she's excited, all in all things are good. So, the details are as follows. We'll be pulling out of San Diego the morning of the 19th and stopping at Anne's cousin's house in Phoenix before heading on to visit our friend Diana in Denver. From Denver, it's a long journey to Nashville where we'll stop to say hello to Mr. & Mrs. Adams. The last leg will take us to Annapolis where we'll set up shop and begin looking for a place in D.C. I'm going to try and keep up with the blog through the road trip, updating after each day and if possible at places in between.
That being said, I'm not sure what to do about the blog when i get back to D.C. The primary mission of the blog was to keep in touch with my friends back east and catalogue life on the West Coast. I'm going to try and set up a little poll question on the side of the blog. So you 5 readers out there, speak your mind. Should I keep the blog going? If so, feel free to offer up some potential new titles in the comment section below.
The 108th U.S. open began last week chocked full of dramatic story lines; none more important than "could Tiger Woods come back from knee surgery to win the Open at Torrey Pines?" I got tickets through my office-mate and went to the opening round on Thursday. Waking up at 4:30 to park my car and walk to the course from a Qualcomm building was a less than ideal way to start a Thursday morning. The walk was 3.8 miles just to get to the course. Yours truly blindly walked past the main entrance thinking he knew the "other way" in (the same entrance we used in January 2007 to get into the Buick Classic) which was an additional mile in the wrong direction. Water under the bridge. By 6:45, I was on the course approaching the first tee where Tiger Woods, Phil Mickelson and Adam Scott, the world's #1, #2 and #3 players in the world were teeing off at 8:11. I anticipated mayhem and a raucous atmosphere when the three players stepped onto the first tee and I was not disappointed. Phil Mickelson grew up in San Diego, playing Torrey Pines as a young chap and definitely had the loudest support from the gallery. Nobody payed Adam Scott any attention but clapped accordingly whenever he stepped up and striped one down the fairway. Keep in mind the guy was playing with a broken finger in his left hand. Tiger received a loud ovation when he walked to the tee with Steve Williams and his 8 security guards. Standing right next to me was Tom Lehman, major championship winner and former Ryder Cup captain standing on the tips of his toes straining to get a glance of the group of the day. Hey, I thought it was pretty cool.
Watching a Tiger group is daunting because the substantial human mass observing his every movement moves about as quickly as you would think...it doesn't. So to reasonably avoid getting sandwiched amongst the sea of sheep, you have to jump between holes and catch him at various holes along the way. On Thursday, I caught Tiger's tee shot on the first hole then headed out to the 5th tee and 6th fairway before letting the group head out on the back side. When Tiger teed off on the 5th hole, he blocked it right and immediately grimaced after impact. He ended up making an incredible ho-hum two putt par from the thick rough. Not bothering to see them finish the hole, I checked out a few other groups and grabbed some food before catching up with the group on the 13th green and 14th tee box. Tiger had made a bit of a run to get to -1 after double bogeying (what would become a constant theme) the first hole but blew the ball around the course a little bit on the way home finishing with a one over par (+1) 72. By now, you've seen the heroics of the next three rounds including his run on Saturday afternoon to take the lead and then gutting out the final round, sliding in a birdie putt on the 72nd hole of the championship to force a 18 hole playoff the next day with Rocco Mediate. For some reason, I didn't think he'd make the putt, thinking he was due to miss a huge putt in a big situation at some point. It seems that he never misses the big ones.. What else can you say except WOW. As soon as Tiger's putt dropped, I shot Sean a text message claiming dibs on the playoff ticket. I had to be there.
Monday morning, I picked Sean up at 5:30 and headed to the office. We put in a couple hours in at work before heading to the course at 8:00 a.m. Arriving at the course around 8:30, I was surprised at the amount of people who showed up on a Monday morning. The word on the street was that 30,000 tickets existed and I expected at best half of that, still 15,000 people, to show up. Coming through the gates, the number of people trudging across the course towards the first tee was jaw dropping. We rushed past the first hole quickly realizing that we couldn't possibly see anything out there. Tiger apparently teed off first and piped it down the middle of the fairway because the gallery erupted and the distance the ball traveled was really really far. Sean and I ran into one of my buddy's from the golf team, Mike Merkens, and headed down to the 2nd green to catch Tiger's approach shot and putt's on the green. It really was the only way to watch with so many people following the only group on the golf course. Tiger and Rocco made par's on the 2nd hole and while we intended to go quickly to the 4th fairway, we couldn't move for another 20 minutes. It was insane. We caught the two players on the 4th fairway and again on the 5th fairway and 5th green before jogging (soft J) to the 6th green. At that point, it was decision time.
The 6th green and 7th teen sit adjacent to the grandstand at the 18th green. Sean and I discussed the options before us. Either we could continue to see the drama a couple holes at a time or just set up base camp in the gallery and hope that the match got to 18 with something in the balance. Boy were we given a treat. As the two golfers played the 17th hole, we could notice a huge commotion starting around the 18th tee box. People in golf carts and on foot darted across the area and a dozens of San Diego Police officers were took positions in the grandstand attempting to maintain order. The packed grandstand had been doing the wave (I'm dead serious, the effing wave) for about an hour. A test of the waves strength was measured by cheers and boos in the gallery. If the wave started on the West end of the gallery and made it around the green and back down the fairway, it was deemed a success and people started cheering on the crowd. Tiger and Rocco weren't even on the same hole yet! Sitting there, you would never believe people a "stereotype" existed that golfers were really lame. Never. Ever. With that being said, it was impressive when the wave started in our West section of the grandstand and went halfway down the 18th fairway with people shouting and cheering. I didn't know the U.S. Open was taking place in London at Wembley Stadium. You could take a snapshot of the gallery and transfix it to London in a game between England and France. Ridiculous.
Within a matter of minutes, we could see Tiger and Rocco stroll up to the 18th hole. The leaderboard across the 18th green, which had read "Thru 16 Tiger Woods 1, Rocco Mediate 0", representing their relation to par through 16 holes, suddenly changed to "Thru 17 Tiger Woods 1, Rocco Mediate 0." The gallery erupted in a mix of moans and wild cheers. Chants of "Rocco, Rocco, Rocco" echoed across the gallery. By now, you've seen the highlights. Rocco hit first and pulled it into the left bunker, Tiger absolutely crushed his drive down the middle of the fairway. From the green, you could hear the "YOU DA MAN TIGER" AND "WOOOO" from the tee as soon as Tiger made contact. Sitting in the gallery some 527 yards away, nobody could pick up the ball but when it plopped in the middle of the fairway, the crowd just erupted. Tiger had a shot and that's all the gallery could hope for. Rocco blasted out to the bunker and shortly thereafter, Tiger pounded a 4-iron 217 yard onto the middle of the green. Mediate hit his approach shot to about 20 feet, leaving himself a makeable putt to win the championship. Tiger had eagled the 18th hole on Saturday and made a ridiculous birdie on Sunday to force this playoff, so the odds of him forcing sudden-death were pretty strong if Rocco didn't make his putt.
As the two players walked unto the green, every human and probably a few rodents were cheering for the show these two golfers had just put on. Within moments, the 20,000 people surrounding the green were dead quiet. To use the old cliche, "you could have heard a fish rip ass" but as soon as Tiger's putter blade made contact with the golf ball, pandemonium broke out. The putt only missed by a few inches and ran a solid 4 feet past the cup. Rocco stepped up for his putt and again, silence. You could have cued Bill Murray's line from Caddyshack
Unfortunately for Mediate, he pulled his putt and denied himself of U.S. Open glory. Once it went to a 91st hole, you could sense Tiger had it in the bag. Rocco had his chance (again) and didn't capitalize. Tiger pared the next hole and Mediate bogeyed giving Tiger his third U.S. Open and 14th major championship. It took me several hours to realize how fortunate I was to witness one of the greatest displays of determination and shot making by one of the greatest, (and when he hangs 'em up, the greatest) golfer[s] of all time. To have a front row seat, an actual front row seat, to see Tiger Woods limp to the podium and accept his third U.S. Open Championship trophy was one of those moments I'll tell my children and grandchildren about. Tiger Woods won the most daunting major championship of them all on an incredibly difficult golf course over five rounds, walking approximately 21 miles, with a torn ACL and two stress fractures in his Tibia. Read that sentence again. It was one of the greatest performances in all of sports and I don't think I'm over-hyping it at all. The amount of torque he puts on his left knee to drive a golf ball 345 yards is hard to fathom unless you've actually tried to swing a golf club as hard as possible, and then double that. What is truly incredible, is that Woods tore his ACL last August... before the PGA Championship which he won and has proceeded to win 9 of the last 12 golf tournaments he entered. His workout regiment is legendary and his pain threshold is clearly other worldly. I'm saddened to know that we won't get to see him hit another golf shot the rest of the year. The Open Championship, PGA Championship and the Ryder Cup won't be the same without Woods in the fold but what we witnessed this past week might have been worth it. I will never forget it as long as I live.
I've been caught up with soccer fever over the last couple months beginning with the end of the Champions League in England and continuing with the truly great Euro 2008 championship. So with that in mind, my buddy Sean showed me this phenomenal clip. Check it out!
It's been a while since I last posted. I have no excuses this time, I've just fallen off the wagon. I've got a huge announcement in the next few days, and a few reflections on recent events. This past week has been pretty incredible however. I played a little golf last weekend, shooting a solid 77. On Thursday, I went to opening day of the U.S. Open at Torrey Pines and over the weekend, Anne and I went up to Laguna and Newport beach for a little R&R. The setup at Torrey Pines is unlike anything I've ever seen and that includes the 2007 Masters where Zach Johnson won at +1 (289). Just like the Masters, Tiger was so impressive and the gallery following Mickelson and Woods was massive. I just found out a few minutes ago that I'll also be going to the Playoff round tomorrow morning at Torrey Pines. Should be a memorable day.
The trip up to Laguna and Newport Beach was pretty fantastic. It deserves it's own post due later in the week. For now, I'll leave this little note. That MTV show is a bunch of bullshit. Take my word for it, I have authority on such things.
Alright, it's late out here and I've gotta get to sleep so I can get up at 5:00 to get to the course in time. I love you all and I'm sorry I've been a degenerate with this thing. I'll do my best to really get after it but that's probably a terrible terrible lie.
I've talked in the past about how terrible traffic can be in California but nothing about driving in SoCal irritates me more than people turning without using their turn signals. It doesn't matter what type of road I'm traveling on, people out here just switch lanes or make turns without giving notice of such actions and it is infuriating. To be clear, the drivers in San Diego are nowhere near as awful as Massholes or those of the New Jersey tribe so my life could be worse. However, when you're going along a street in your neighborhood and you come upon a stop sign and the person in front of you just makes a turn presumably out of nowhere, it screws up your whole reaction time and just pisses the shit out of me.
On Friday I was driving to work and some d-bag in a white Audi just cut into my lane without indicating he/she was about to make such a move. I had to hit the brakes but could barely control my frustration because it happens every day. I really wanted to floor it and plow right into the back of him Cole Trickle style but A. I'm not a Scientologist and B.) I'm not a fake NASCAR driver. The people of San Diego are on notice. Use your god damned blinker.
I know I haven't been posting as frequently as before but the last month has been remarkably packed with lots of activities and traveling that made it difficult to keep up. I've flown across the country on consecutive weekends, been to Mexico and even went Soaring (glider plane). Other than Carolina getting blown out in the Final Four, life has been pretty good. The next two weeks are a chance to catch my breath before flying back east twice in the month of May. Hopefully, I'll get some golf in and maybe some beach time and the weather has really gotten nice in San Diego so there will likely be some beach time as well. That's SoCal living for you.
It seems like an eternity now, but about three weeks ago, Anne and I finally went soaring. My Christmas present from Anne was a trip for two to go soaring, but the pilots only fly a certain number of months out of the year so we weren't able to go earlier in the year. Some of you probably know Soaring best from the movie "The Thomas Crown Affair" in which Pierce Brosnan takes Rene Russo up for a beautiful ride. From the first time I saw that scene, I've wanted to go soaring because it looked so fucking bad ass. What's not to love about flying in a plane without an engine at 5,000 feet.
On Saturday, March 29th, Anne and I drove north through SoCal's wine country to Hemet California, about 90 minutes to the northeast of San Diego. Wheels up was scheduled for 12:00 so we got to the airport around 11:30 to get signed up. They offered the "funsaver" package which apparently entitled us to more severe in-flight maneuvers. To clarify, Anne was really excited about the whole idea until I explained to her a few weeks before the flight that the glider flew without an engine. The prospect of intense maneuvering without an engine was probably a little unnerving but like the trooper she is, we both got the funsaver package. Our pilot Raymond showed up a little early, inspected the plane and then asked me if I'd could help him get the plane on the runway. It was at that point I finally got really fired up for the flight. Raymond and I pushed the glider which was surprisingly light onto the runway and then asked me to hop in. Ray attached the rope from the tow plane, a small single engine prop plane, to the glider and after strapping me in, he got in and before I knew it we were airborne! The plane is so light that it actually gets into the air before the tow plane is off the ground. With both planes now in flight, we gained altitude at a reasonable clip, the objects on the ground getting smaller and smaller. At this point I remembered that we indeed had no engine and that if something were to happen, well I've had a pretty good run.
Both planes continued to climb, circling around the airport and out over a massive reservoir that didn't actually look that large from above. We continued to tow up until we reached 5,500 feet at which point Ray tapped my shoulder and said, "Let us loose there fella." I said "really? Now?" He replied "Ohh yeah!" Without further ado, I pulled the nob at the top of the cockpit which released us from the plane in front and wouldn't you know it, we continued to fly at about 80 mph. Gone was the sound of the airplane that towed us up, and all you could hear was the wind rushing by the plane. It was really peaceful and liberating, but my heart was definitely pounding. We completed a couple turns and then he turned the stick over to me. Without hesitation, I took command and at his direction steered the plane up, down, left and right, eventually taking the plane into a full right turn. The plane started drifting back to the left because the winds from the clouds pushed the glider around a little bit. Ray took control and then asked me if I wanted to do the "fun stuff." I was really pumped for this part and he started taking the plane into the clouds to gain altitude and airspeed. Ray explained how turbulence and air pressure work to keep the plane up and how for the most part turbulence isn't that big of a deal. We engaged in several tight circles picking up speed and altitude each time. Once we were back above 5,000 feet, Ray put the plane into a severe left turn. All I could see to my left side was the ground and to my right, blue sky. We leveled out and then went into a severe right turn. The whole maneuver was really awesome and exhilarating. After leveling off again, Ray asked me if I was ready for the next step. I told him yes, and he immediately brought the nose up a little bit bringing the plane into a stall. A feeling of weightlessness came over me for a few seconds before the plane entered into a nose dive. The dive felt like coming over the crest of a roller coaster and I was quickly reminded that gravity does in fact exist. What a thrill! After a few more turns it was unfortunately time to return to earth. Ray pointed out that we could stay up there for the whole day just riding the air movement but Anne was patiently awaiting her turn. We began descending slowly back through the clouds picking out the runway, circling around the airport before getting down and eventually landing softly on the glider runway.
It was honestly one of the coolest things I have ever done. I will definitely do it again and I urge all of you to try it, even if you are afraid of flying. Being up there in a such a light aircraft really makes you understand what goes on with a plane. The way I understand turbulence now, all it is the warm air from the ground rising, pushing the plane up while the cooler air above the clouds falls pushing the plane down as the plane flies through the air. I don't know if that's any consolation to my friends who are afraid of flying, most notably Knacke, but really, get up there and try flying in a glider. You won't be disappointed.
After Anne finished her ride, we drove back through wine country, stopping at the Ponte Winery for a phenomenal lunch. We picked up a bottle of wine there before stopping for a tasting at the South Coast winery. Later that night, Carolina beat Louisville for a trip to the Final Four capping a truly memorable day, probably one of the best I've had in the entire time I've been out in San Diego. Check out a video of the whole trip below.
Meghan O'Malley and Rodrigo Garcia de la Torre Astudillo (real name), two of Anne's best friends from college got married in San Miguel de Allende on May 22nd. We left the Whale's Vagina on Thursday night, flying to Los Angeles and then on to Mexico City. Anne and I had a three hour layover in L.A. and grabbed some "dinner" in an establishment called "The Northend Bar & Grille" that seemed to double as a discothèque complete with awful Techno music and really shitty bartenders. I considered ordering a couple Patron shots and a Stoli Razz Mango Mojito just to make it interesting but just gobbled up my food and downed a Heineken instead before we sat down at the gate. Shortly before the flight started boarding, Anne got called on the loudspeaker. When we looked over, two Homeland Security agents were standing next to the desk with their hands on their firearms. We both went up to the desk where they scanned her passport and then said thank you and we sat down. There was no explanation as to why she called up but I'm starting to grapple with the possibility that my girlfriend is a terrorist or a drug smuggler.
Mexican Flight # 137 landed in Mexico city at 5:15 am and Anne made it through customs without a problem. We got to the Primero Plus ticket counter just before 6 am and bought our tickets for the first legal to Queretaro. San Miguel sits approximately 150 miles northwest of Mexico City and in order to get to San Miguel we had to transfer to another bus in Queretaro before heading to San Miguel. I was a bit nervous about riding on a bus for four hours through the Mexican countryside but the bus from the airport to Queretaro was incredible. I expected the ride would be on a makeshift school bus carrying chickens and goats but by 6:15, we were in our seats which were truly first class. The seats reclined almost horizontally and had clutch leg rests that helped us fall asleep immediately. Anne was fast asleep as soon as we left the airport and after a few minutes, I was passed out as well. The two of us slept for the entire first leg to Queretaro waking up as we pulled into the bus station. Our tickets to San Miguel were about $24 dollars and the woman behind the ticket counter spoke a little English. Fortunately, my 9th grade Spanish was somewhat understandable to her and we got our tickets easily. Unfortunately, she didn't tell us where our bus left from and after asking a few people, we found out it was on the other side of the station. With 5 minutes until our bus left, we ran around the station finding our bus just as the doors were beginning to close. The bus stations wasn't particularly terrible, but I can think of a ton of things I'd rather have done than sit in a bus station deep in the heart of Mexico for another hour. Safely on the bus, we had only one hour to San Miguel where hopefully we could find our hotel and i could go potty, grown up style.
The bus rolled through the countryside that was fairly flat with large mountains far off on the horizon. After passing an Office Max (really, in Mexico?) across the street from the local jail, we got up and around a hill and began our descent into San Miguel. The beautiful church right in the middle of the town was unmistakable from the top of the hill. Our bus got to the station in San Miguel and after negotiating with the taxi to take us to our hotel "Hacienda delas Flores" for $3.50 we drove into the town. There was some sort of Good Friday parade that blocked they typical route into town so we bounced around a few markets before heading up the trademark cobblestone streets of San Miguel. Before I knew it, we were right in front of our hotel. A greater sense of excitement came over me than those experienced just a few minutes before upon catching the first glimpse of the town and when our flight touched down in Mexico City. It didn't feel like we were here for a wedding but rather on a journey, experiencing a part of the world very few get to see. Generally, people head for the beaches along the coast of Mexico, but it was immediately apparent that we were doing vastly different and exhilarating. We dropped our bags in the lobby at 11:30 am and grabbed a quick bite to eat in the dining room. 86 pesos ($7.50) got us a cup of orange juice, fresh fruit, bread and eggs right next to our room!
By that point, our bags were in our room and we plopped down for a quick nap. Apparently I slept for about 2 hours and Anne had a tremendously difficult time getting me to wake up. Around 2 pm as I aroused from my slumber in grizzly bear fashion, Anne's friend Tim Fetch, who was staying at the same hotel, blew past our door. Earlier I asked Anne what Tim looked like and she said "short skinny white dude who sails. Sure enough, even though I only caught a quick glimpse through the gap in the curtain but I was certain I had just seen Tim Fetch. Tim, accompanied by his girlfriend Tara, Anne and myself walked down to the Jardn "Garden" area at the center of town adjacent to "La Parroquiade San Miguel Arcangel" church San Miguel is known for. We walked down the hill and met up with a bunch of the rest of the crew in town for the wedding at their hotel before walking back up the hill to find a local watering hole within eyesight of another good friday "parade." Rodrigo tried to convince us that the parade would be very exciting and good natured but we all should have known better...after all, they are celebrating the death of Jesus. In true Gringo fashion (well, they were all Gringo's, I knew I was safe) we got drunk and made way too much noise and several people looked into the restaurant in disgust. In our defense, the Pacifico's were $20 pesos ($2) and they had 9% more beer in the bottle so of course we were going to get hammered. After we were all fed on delicious fried Mexican food and drunk, we left the restaurant and headed back to the hotel to get ready for a night of heavy drinking. Anne's best friend Jessica was staying in the room next door to ours so while Anne and Jess primped and properred, Steve, Jess' boyfriend, and I went on a beer run and then headed up to the roof of our hotel and watched the sun set over the mountains on the horizon. The sunset was quite beautiful cascading orange and red hues across the stucco buildings and the church in the center of San Miguel.
After the girls finally got ready, we met up with the rest of the group and then grabbed dinner at the Don Quixote BBQ restaurant down the hill from our hotel. After everybody filled up, we threw a little party just outside the restaurant as roughly 30 people tried to figure out what bar to go to. Mass chaos ensued culminating in myself, and this guy Dylan who became my best buddy for the weekend, pretending to ride an ATV while everyone else screamed at the top of their lungs. For example:
The debauchery continued as we decided to hit up this bar called "Mama Mia's." The door man wanted to charge a group of 30 people $15US to get into the bar and we told him to go blow himself. After negotiating down to $7 for the whole group, we got in and tore it up. The rest of the night was sort of a blur, there was a latin/blues/hip hop/whatever cover band that played downstairs. I remember not being able to get drinks fast enough so we decided to head to the rooftop bar and crush cervezas for a bit. A few beers later we called it a night and headed back to the hacienda.
Waking up Saturday morning with a bad hangover, Anne, Jess, Steve, Tim, Tara and myself grabbed breakfast at the hotel before we went out and shopped a little bit. Later in the afternoon, we grabbed a great lunch before splitting up to get ready for the wedding. I put myself on a mission to discover a rumored sports bar I had been researching since Anne booked the trip for our anniversary. The sports bar had the NCAA tournament on a big flat screen the beers were $2 and it doubled as an Argentinian Steak House. I didn't have a bunch of free time because I had to get dressed for the wedding but I would be back, no question. After getting dressed, we hopped up on the roof of the hotel to catch a glimpse of the bull fight that was taking place next door. Earlier in the day, we picked up a few fliers inviting us to the bull fight. All of us really wanted to check out the bullfight but the wedding started at 5 and it was imperative that we got there on time.
After trying to find the hacienda on foot, we hopped in the back of a taxi/pick-up truck which took us directly to the wedding site. Rodrigo told us that when we walked into the door, we'd have to take a shot of Tequila from a donkey named Paco, and sure enough, Paco was waiting for us just inside the front door with a satchel of shot glasses and a bottle of Tequila. His compadre/ handler poured the shots as we threw back a couple in a row.Paco, clearly agitated by the commotion and picture snapping proceeded to place his ass in our direction, and drop a nice deuce right in the middle of the foyer.Everybody scattered and Paco got his wish.The mansion where the wedding was held was one of the more beautiful houses I’ve seen in quite some time.The ceremony itself was held down in a beautiful courtyard at the edge of the property that doubled as our badminton and volleyball court the next day.The ceremony was pretty short getting everyone to the booze right around 6 pm.Kicking things off with Champagne, Margaritas and a 10 piece Mariachi band who brought down the house.Soon enough, Rodrigo’s mom was doing a solo and my sobriety vaporized.It wasn’t much later than 8:00 when I realized it was time to slow it done if I intended to make it to the piñata
Dylan, one of Anne’s cohorts from College of Charleston, introduced me to“Muppets,” a type of shot where you pour the alcohol (tequila) into a tall shot glass, mix it with sprite or whatever is handy and then put a towel over the shot and bang the shots down on the table three times before throwin them back.Within minutes a group of about 6 people were throwing back consecutive rounds of Muppets, screaming UNO, DOS, TRES! These type of things are so much more badass when done in Spanish.By this time, the third band had started playing but we quickly took over and started an impromptu karaoke session on the dance floor.My plan to remain “in control” was no more, a fact confirmed during the limbo line and the emergence of long balloons I kept trying to mold into a gun without breaking.The initial success would prove to be quite aggravating to Anne in a few minutes because after breaking the first gun, I tried repeatedly to make another one, going through about 6 balloons before finally created a poor replica of my initial triumph.Temporarily satisfied, we went to pound more Muppets and Johnny Walker w/ sodas, dancing the night away.God knows how many more hours passed before the piñata was brought out and tied to a tree.I got VERY excited and demanded first licks even though the piñata was a gift for Megan and Rodrigo.I managed to hit the piñata a couple times right off the bat and I guess it was too easy so the assembled group threw it further into the air and in varying directions.For some reason, I quickly reached out my left hand, feeling for the piñata before grabbing hold, and whacking the shit out of it twice nearly breaking the head off.In hindsight this was pretty selfish of me and I sort of wish I didn’t get so excited about the piñata because it was a gift. (The previous sentence is a complete fabrication, it was fucking awesome…so sorry Megan and Rodrigo, I owe you a piñata). The festivities continued throughout the night culminating in a return of the Mariachi band who paraded through the party blasting their instruments as we all cheered and danced along.
A beautiful swimming pool sat in the middle of the of the house where the party was held and after all the booze was gone, everybody disregarded their sensibilities and jumped in whether you had the appropriate attire or not.There’s something about getting drunk that makes it socially acceptable for people to strip down to boxers, bra’s and thongs and upon closer inspection, I’m ok with that.Nothing says “We had a great time” like pool parties in your under garments.At 3:30, we had to call it quits and head back to the hotel.Anne and I walked a couple blocks before finding a cab and after a brief negotiation that went something like “20 Pesos? No. 30 Pesos? No. 40 pesos? Si. Ok!
With the show over, Tara and Anne kept Tim and I in tow as they bounced from shop to shop buying numerous handbags, trinkets, place mats, serving spoons etc. You name it, they probably bought it. We ended up back at the house where the party was held and finally relaxed. We plowed through mini Coronas and a couple people hopped back in the pool while myself and a few others played badminton in the same area where the wedding ceremony took place. A few close matches took place before we all agreed that crushing beers was more important. A couple guys found a tv in the library that had a TV and watched a few NCAA games before we all had to check out and get ready for dinner. The whole group met up at one of the hotels and 18 of us headed to the Argentinian steak house for a non Mexican dinner. Anne and Tara had consumed roughly 20,000 lbs. of tortilla chips and all of us just wanted a full meal without chips and salsa. The steaks were amazing! I had an 18 oz top sirloin with mashed potatoes and vegetables for $18 US. I thought about getting a 18 oz. Fillet for $25 but thought that would be a bit much, even for a fat ass like myself. Our stomachs full and our thirst quenched, we headed back to the same hotel where we met up earlier to say goodbye to everyone. It was sad that our trip was winding down, but Anne and I had an amazing time, and her College of Charleston friends definitely know how to have a good time.
We were up early the next morning and back on the bus from San Miguel to Queretaro, changed to the luxury bus that took us to the airport in Mexico city. Neither of us slept on that bus ride still beaming from such a fantastic trip. We got to the airport and through security without any major issues. Anne clearly presented no terrorism threat to the Mexican government and after a decent wait at the gate, we were on the plane to Cabo San Lucas which eventually would take us home. Even though we did not have to change planes in Cabo, we were forced to get off and go through Customs again and wait in the terminal before boarding the exact same plane. Let's just say the security in Cabo is not exactly top notch. They had folding tables where the security officers inspected your bag. Written in permanent marker on the side of the table were the words "Real Security." Now, maybe I'm crazy, or I drank some of the water down there and temporarily lost my mind but writing "Real Security" on a plastic folding table does not convey safety and security at all! Once we got on the plane, the flight attendant made her safety spiel and announced that our cruising altitude for the flight would be 200,000 feet. I'm no pilot but I think 200,000 feet is actually flying in space and Airbus didn't design their A-3oo for re-entry into the earth's atmosphere. Somehow, some way, we made it back to San Diego safely and put a phenomenal vacation/ wedding in the books. I definitely recommend making a trip to San Miguel de Allende at some point in the near future. I know it's not the easiest place to get to, but well worth the trip! You really get the feeling of discovering a Mexican town that still had to be discovered. Vamanos!
Tonight begins a whirlwind stretch of traveling for this big fella. Anne and I are off to San Miguel de Allende or as the Germans called Saint Miguel of Beyond. We're going to celebrate her friend Rodrigo's wedding and it should be one hell of an adventure! It's a city about four hours northwest of Mexico City and apparently the destination of a bunch of American expatriates. We're staying at a bed and breakfast with a few of her college friends and it promises to be a raucous affair. I've always heard that you probably shouldn't drink the tap water but I'm thinking, what a chance to really test the theory! If it works for the Olson twins and they haven't died yet, I'm sure it' just work for me. Catching a few of the NCAA tourney games will be very difficult and I know Anne is not going to be happy with me for venturing off to find a sports bar at 6:10 pm. I'm thinking if I buy her something nice while we're down there, she's gotta forgive me...right? Ladies? I think this is a winning strategy and I can't be the first man to come up with this quid pro quo.
After this weekend, we've got a little weekend getaway to go soaring (those glider planes you see in "The Thomas Crown Affair") and then I fly to the east coast for Seth Katz' wedding celebration and the following week, Anne and I are in Raleigh to see her cousin get married. This is the beginning of Wedding Season folks and I'm very excited! I probably will look like Will Ferrell screaming for Meatloaf after the next couple months have passed, but honestly, would you have it any other way?
I'll be back here next week with a full recap of San Miguel, but until then it's Adios!
I've been mocked for years because my fanhood stretches from sea to shining sea and possibly beyond. I've been ridiculed, beat down, derided, pooh-poohed, jeered or any other adjective you can come up with, because the perception is that I'm fair-weather fan. Yes, the teams I root for are very well known but anybody who's met me, knows that sports is something I'm passionate about and that I'm fairly knowledgeable about the teams I root for. The reason behind the great disparity as some of you know, is that I grew up on St. Croix, U.S. Virgin Islands and we only got the National telecast for each sport. So while most of you grew up in a certain media market where you got the Giants/Jets, Mets/Yankees, Knicks, Rangers all the time, I'd usually get whatever the best match-up was at the time. and Below is a quick snapshot of the teams by sport and then a more detailed explanation of how the teams came to be. Without further ado:
NFL: San Francisco 49'ers MLB: Cleveland Indians NBA: Chicago Bulls NCAA Basketball: North Carolina Tar Heels NCAA Football: Florida State Seminoles NHL: New York Rangers
San Francisco 49ers
I fell in love with the 49ers back in the late 80's after watching them demolish the Denver Broncos 55-10 in Super Bowl XXIV. I vaguely remember Joe Montana destroying the Broncos secondary for 5 touchdowns but that night Jerry Rice became my favorite player. That team was on course for accomplishing the first three-peat until Lawrence Taylor decided to be an asshole and ruin Joe Montana's career. For a couple years we couldn't beat the Cowboys to save our life but in 1994, we finally broke through in the NFC Championship game and went on to beat the San Diego Chargers in Super Bowl XXIX 49-26. After George Seifert retired a few years later the Niners remained competitive with Steve Young behind Center and Steve Mariucci as our head coach.
Unfortunately, all the smart people who helped make San Francisco a model organization either retired or left the franchise and since 2002, we've been run by a bunch of idiots. The 49ers were known as one of, if not the classiest organization in the NFL. For years, they treated their players and coaches with the respect they deserved. The new clowns have been anything but that. For example, in 2002 we fired Mariucci after he compiled a 60-43 record and taking us to the playoffs 4 out of the 6 years he was the head coach. In the ultimate show of disrespect, Mariucci found out on the radio. They didn't even have the decency to tell him to his face. Ohhh, and we haven't made the playoffs since. Sweet. I miss the good ole days of Carmen Policy running the show. Sure he may have broken a rule here and there, but he sure knew how to put a team together and we won a bunch of games with him as the General Manager. The Niners were known as one of the great offensive franchises thanks to the genius of Bill Walsh, Joe Montana and Jerry Rice. Last year, we had the worst offense in the league! Give me a break. Two years ago, we wasted the 1st overall pick in the draft on a shitty QB who looks to be a bust. I don't see us turning this around for a while, yet I remain a Niners fan. I remember the good days when we at least made the playoffs and were competitive. Moving on.
North Carolina
One of my teams that brings a lot more joy to my life these days is the North Carolina Men's Basketball team. Most people assume that I'm a Carolina fan because they've been great recently, but aucontraire. I've remained a Carolina fan through the good and the bad. Ironically, I became a Carolina fan through my love for another one of my favorite teams the Chicago Bulls. My best friend Ted's family is from Chicago and I spent countless nights growing up on St. Croix watching Michael Jordan and the Bulls in the late 80's. Jordan was my favorite player and once I found out he played at Carolina, I was hooked. I don't really remember them winning the National Championship in 1993 thanks to Chris Webber but I remember exactly where I was when Arkansas upset the Heels in 1995.
As I've grown up, I've fallen in love with the Carolina tradition and not solely because of Michael Jeffrey Jordan. While he is probably the most famous Carolina basketball alum, past starts like Phil Ford, Lenny Rosenbluth, James Worthy, Sam Perkins, Brad Dougherty, and on and on. More recently stars like Rasheed Wallace, Antawn Jamison, Vince Carter have grabbed the limelight, but I always loved the role players like AdemolaOkulaja, MakhtarNdiaye, and Ed Cota with his patented high dribble. In fact, Ed Cota is at the heart of my favorite Carolina basketball play.
I remember watching that play live and losing my shit. I think the roof of the Dean Dome would have come off if Vince Carter threw that down. I still watch that play and hope that somehow he dunks it. I remained a Carolina fan through the Doherty years and while we did go 8-20 (and Ian Applegate gave me shit for it the entire season. Thanks Ian, I will return the favor when the Metropolitans lose 120 games in three years.) and everybody wanted to burn Doherty at the stake, he recruited the nucleus of our 2005 National Championship team and that fact can't and shouldn't ever be forgotten. I recognize that some people hate Carolina and their glorious shade of Blue but the hatred is not as vitriolic or extensive as as it is for Dook and that helps me sleep at night. Hopefully the Heels are embarking on another championship run. I'm hoping for another great March.
Cleveland Indians
The Cleveland Indians are my baseball team but that has not always been the case. The first baseball game I ever saw was in the 80's at Shea Stadium. My dad and Uncle Keith took me to my first baseball game at Shea which is not far from where my grandparents used to live in East Elmhurst, NY. I'll never forget that game because Darryl Strawberry hit a home run in the 6th inning and I remember thinking how cool it was that the Giant Red Apple in right field came out of nowhere when the ball cleared the fence. I was a Mets fan for years until I met Larry Doby at a charity golf tournament on St. Croix in 1994. My dad, who was drafted as a pitcher by the San Francisco Giants out of college, explained to me the significance of "Mr. Doby." I'll never forget how big his hands seemed and how much of a presence he had. As a young kid, you really can't grasp the magnitude of a man as important to our societal progress, but I was awestruck and became an Indians fan immediately. For those of you who don't know, Mr. Doby was the first African American player to integrate the American League. Everyone knows who Jackie Robinson was for obvious reasons, but Larry Doby doesn't receive the praise and admiration he rightly deserves.
This combined with the fact that the Indians in the mid 90's had a great team and emerged from the dark history of their franchise. They were finally good, but still had the underdog label because the Franchise hadn't won a World Series since 1948. With players like Kenny Lofton, Manny Ramirez, Albert Belle, Omar Vizquel, Carlos Baerga, Jim Thome and Oral "The Bulldog" Hershiser, the Indians finally had a shot but lost to the Braves in the 1995 World Series. Two years later, the Tribe were back in the Fall Classic against the Marlins and lost in one of the most heart-wrenching finales I've ever seen. We had no business losing to the Florida Marlins in that game. Jose Mesa, if I ever see you, I'm going to beat you down with the most dull object in sight. I hate you. I hate you. We got rid of most of those players and despite the losing seasons, we're good again! Again we have a great crop of young Talent mixed with some veterans who really could help bring a title to Cleveland. I love this team, I love the players, I really like our Manager and GM. This year might be the year. It just might be the year....
Florida State Football
In full disclosure I really have no great reason or story behind my passion for Florida State football other than they were on TV a ton growing up on St. Croix. Their style of play fascinated me as a kid and the whole opening to a home game with Chief Osceola and Renegade throwing the flaming spear into the ground really gets you ready for a great game. The rivalry with Miami and Florida keep it interesting every year and historically they've played great football. I'd like to forget that Wide Right I, II, III, and Wide Left I ever happened, but there have been some memorable victories as well. The 1999 National Championship team was something special but it's hard to believe it's been nearly a decade since then and we really haven't been relevant on the national scene. It's really hard to say but it might be time for Bobby Bowden to step aside. He's been great for Florida State and the football program but more importantly, he's done a phenomenal job as a father figure for a lot of kids who grow up without that in their life. He's won more games than anybody else in D-1 and I hope he's got one more run in him, maybe starting this year but it may be time to move on. Something's gotta give. We've recruited far too much talent to be mediocre at best. I love the Noles. I start looking forward to the next season as soon as the last snap is played because I honestly feel that they're close to being great again. They will be good again, I'm just not sure if Bobby Bowden is the right captain for the ship. We shall see.
Yes, I am a Hockey fan. We still exist despite the fact that the league has been relegated to Versus. It may be the worst run league in America, but at least they have the New York Rangers. My first memory of the Rangers was sitting on the couch in St. Croix when Mark Messier dropped a Hat Trick on the New Jersey Devils in Game 6 of the Eastern Conference Championship after guaranteeing victory the day before. It is the greatest guarantee/ follow through in sports history, hands down. To seek out the media and guarantee a win against your arch rival and then deliver a hat trick in the third period to win the game is the definition of testicular fortitude. They went on to win the Stanley Cup that year, beating the Vancouver Canucks after Messier scored the go ahead goal. They were up and very down for a decade after winning the cup while trying to buy a championship. Perfect example...drastically overpaying Eric "concussion" Lindros to shit the bed and giving away all the young talent they drafted.
The last couple years have been much more successful and this year we might be able to make a run if we get the right match ups in the Playoffs. I like the nucleus of younger players surrounded by Veterans and a real Asshole named Sean Avery. I know, it's strange that a guy growing up in the Virgin Islands would come to follow Hockey, but I think it's an amazing game. The things some guys can do with a puck skating on ice is just incredible. I know the sport hasn't had the best couple of years, but very few things beat the Stanley Cup Playoffs. Watch it in HD or in person and you might be surprised.
Chicago Bulls
As I mentioned above, my love for the Chicago Bulls has it's roots with my buddy Ted and watching games in the late 80's with his family. I actually can recall them losing to the Pistons back-to-back and then finally breaking through in 1991. Obviously, Michael Jordan being on the team had a huge role and he's my favorite basketball player ever, the teams were so entertaining. Plus, my distant relative Craig Hodges* was on the team so how could I not root for them. Through the first leg of the dynasty with players like Jordan, Scottie Pippen, Horace Grant, John Paxon and Bill Cartwirght, they truly dominated during arguably the greatest stretch of basketball in NBA history.
I wish I could have been a little older to truly appreciate how great those teams and players were. Sure I liked them, but I couldn't really appreciate Jordon dropping 63 on the Celtics in the playoffs, or the 37 point game with the Flu in Game 5 of the 1998 series. Recently, they had been improving but I think that was just a blip on the radar and we're heading back to ineptitude. We had a chance to land a couple of the true superstars in the league like PauGasol and Kevin Garnett and gave a washed up Ben Wallace $60 Million and drafted a bunch of 6'9" athletic big men because John Paxon was bored. The Baby Bulls of last year were so fun to watch. They played great defense and had a good nucleus of players but ultimately threw away all the progress made by floating a deal for Kobe that sabotaged this season. So now we've given away Ben Wallace but for DrewGooden and Larry Hughes? Are you f'ing blowing me? So is our goal to tank for the rest of the season and then draft another 6'9" swing man to crowd the court with Ty Thomas, Joakin Noah? That strategy may have worked when we had Michael Jordan, because he'd just punch someone in the face and tell them to get out of the way. Remember Bill Wennington and LucLongley? WE WON TITLES WITH THOSE JOKERS! News flash, Jordan retired and Scottie Pippen is not walking back through the door. It pisses me off the most because they were close. We should have been the #2 seed in the playoffs last year and taken a run at the title. But no, let's blow it all up for a trade that will never happen. DAMNIT. The only thing that keeps me going these days is knowing I can watch the following two clips over and over again on You Tube. Thank Jesus for inventing the Internet every day boys and girls.
And even better:
So there you have it. A detailed description of my fanhood. I doubt this will stop all of you from giving me shit, but at least you know it's not because I'm a fair-weather fan but that like most of you, I've had to go through the good and the bad. Now Go Tar Heels, Indians, Seminoles, 49ers, Rangers and Bulls. Let's win some Championships or at least be respectable.
