No blogger worth their salt (ok, no *American* blogger) will fail to post some kind of opinion about the upcoming ultimate hoops extravaganza called March Madness. While I'm sure this summer's World Cup soccer tournament will generate enthusiasm over a greater portion of the globe, here in the U.S., not even the World Series or Super Bowl keeps more fannies in the bars or parked on couches for extended periods of time. I've done a yeoman's job of investing time to watch conference tournaments in order to select my teams-brackets with considerable information (if not always confidence), but that's beside the point of todays subject.
The most precise point of it all is whether "your boys" (and yes, of course, your girls-go UConn!) are 'dancing' in the NCAAs vs. playing in the NIT or sitting at home, and that somehow means even more if you are a smaller enrollment or reputation-deficient Wofford, Siena, Arkansas-Pine Bluff or Montana. Okay, maybe the Grizzlies and their 6'3" Superman of a guard Anthony Johnson, who was absolutely stunning in scoring his teams last 21 points in a row as they came from 20 down at the half to win the Big Sky title, don't belong in the same category, but c'mon, are you telling me you legitimately know anything about them?
Wofford (current enrollment 1,439 in Spartanburg, SC) makes 2008 tournament darling Davidson (1,700 students, 20 min. north of Charlotte, NC) look big time. Wofford's Home web page proudly states there are 15,587 living alumni, but if their Southern Conference Terriers do much more than lead first round opponent Wisconsin 4-0 or, holy Badger-beating Batman!, lead at the half, I will hand deliver a double order of wings to proud alum Murray 'Jack' Johnson. That's the essence of March Madness too--betting on your knowledge or against whatever a buddy knows or loves. As they frequently say at Oscar time, "it's nice to be thought of" when possibilities are discussed, so consider yourself thought of Wofford.
Now Siena I know something about, and their Metro Atlantic championship and 27-6 record makes them legit. The Saints were usually the Saturday part of weekend double headers (Friday night was Linton HS games) I attended in the 70s, when they still relied on local talent like Gary Holle and Dan Terwilliger, so thats my solid emotional tie too. Like with Davidson and Stephon Curry's heroics two years ago, Siena has risen to the challenge of slaying biggies--two years ago they took out Vanderbilt as a #13 seed, and last year they beat Ohio State in double overtime in an #8-9 scenario. This year they are given the nod by no less distinguished a pronostigator than President Obama. The Prez correctly picked UNC all the way last year--and believe me, LOTS of people here in the Carolinas are in shock about *that* particular negative turn of basketball fortunes--but he feels, correctly I say, that Siena has at least one victory in them this time around.
Siena is slightly but definitely more visible on the national radar than Wofford or AR-Pine Bluff, but if you're going to get ahead of the office gang pool-wise, this is the team to try riding a couple rounds to glory. They've won their conference tournament three years in a row now, and while thats not ACC or SEC competition, I've actually got them winning a second round game vs. Utah State too. Interesting stat to consider: Siena has *made* over 100 more FTs (519) than their opponents attempted (415). That is the sort of stat Carolina always showed up with while winning ACC/national championships. While they don't possess an NBA caliber scorer of Curry's considerable caliber, they won't beat themselves at the line or by tossing the opposition a lot of turnovers. I've promoted Purdue since they were labeled the 'Baby Boilermakers' as a freshman-loaded team, but losing 6'8" Robbie Hummel makes me think they're vulnerable. DUKE would still be waiting in the Sweet 16 in any case, so I won't get crazy about picking Siena far, but two rounds of points is solid-if-not-"trust me" stuff.
Montana is a team you've got to respect too, because while they were 'only' 22-9, they have size and intestinal fortitude that programs like Maryland and (dare I say it?) SYRACUSE have proven they lack in the past. Despite what everyone considers a troublesome 2-3 zone, the 'Cuse now has a built-in excuse for losing because 6'9" inside presence Arinze Onuaku might be less than 100% after an injury. That said, I dithered back and forth about the Grizz before settling on them for a 1st rounder vs. New Mexico. New Mexico's Lobos are 29-4, but they'll have to earn my respect by showing up a couple years at this level, and while they apparently hit the glass hard for rebounds, I *saw* Montana take care of business 100% in their comeback.
As an baseline fact, I admit to being prejudiced against the Orange of Syracuse and for Kansas because of one central fact: the former can't seem to make FTs in the clutch. Bottom line, you miss those in the tournament you go home. Montana's Johnson, who figures to have the ball in his hands regularly, is at 88% for the season, which is snake-bite deadly for someone who can get to the rim any time he doesn't feel like unleashing a 3-pt. shot that was an important part of his 42 when they nailed Weber St. in the Big Sky championship.
Oh, I would have picked Cornell, which is *loaded* with realllllly good shooters and has a 7-footer to boot, as a 'little' achiever too, but Temple has a defensive mentality that I feel is going to take the starch out of the Ivy League champs.
Glenn S.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Monday, November 2, 2009
I Never Went to (any of the) Yankee Stadium
Back on Lakewood Avenue in Schenectady, NY, one of the neighborhood dads took some of the kids to Yankee Stadium on a yearly basis, but it always seemed to be when my family was traveling during Dad's time off. I have to believe Yankee Stadium is "all that" in its 3rd incarnation, because let's face it, you SHOULD be able to get a real palace for a billion and large change. (Congrats in advance for what I expect will be a championship in the new stadium's first year.)
While only briefly mentioning that I'll stand by my prediction of a six game Series with Jeter or A-Rod as MVP (oh my, out on a limb with those guys!) I had a little flashback about karma last night watching several batters foul pitches off. There are a couple types of fouls: those that are grounded outside the lines, some that squib into the dirt around home, long drives that drift off, pop ups, and then those hissing ones that come when the batter undercuts a fastball. I only made it to one Charlotte Knights baseball game this summer, and karma wound up looking like the lattermost foul.
Our group had just over 100 people in it and minor league ticket prices are very family friendly, so its a terrific event, one I should/will definitely take advantage of more, even if Charlotte is a heckuva long way from ever getting that team relocated from Ft. Mill to downtown.
So it gets to be the top of the seventh, and someone not in our group *finally* makes it to the game, and I should clarify that we're on the first base line about half way up the lower stands. Believe it or not, while there are PLENTY of seats to be had, this particular father makes a couple teenagers move so he, wife, daughter and two others can sit in exactly the seats he paid for. Sure didn't *seem* like it should be a priority if you're not arriving until the seventh, but he gets the seats.
Leaving a couple sodas and whatever with the wife and daughter, he leaves to get more of whatever is needed, and wouldn't you know it, less that five minutes after arriving, a wicked foul gets past the netting that only protects those directly behind the plate and homes in on those seats.
When I said 'hissing', I was two rows behind those people and I heard it coming. The daughter barely got her hand up and head half-ducked in time to avoid taking it square in the face, getting two dislocated fingers (and undoubtedly some heavy fear factor) from the deal. The ball blasts the soda she was holding, richochets hard off Mom's shoulder, continues off the left shoulder of another guy the row in front of me, and while we're all saying "wow! that was a smoking shot!" the ball bumps up against my sneaker. Being the truly good guy I am, I know karma will allow me to talk about how that jerk got his family blown up only if I give up the ball, which I do. "Would you like the ball as a souvenir?" I ask the teary and really shaken up girl, who uh-huhs me even if she probably hated baseball right then.
Now, I've told that story maybe twenty times since, but it never ceases to strike me as an unreal coincidence that the guy put his family there *right before* that missile came in. The only better story I have like that is going to a hockey game with the Junior Chamber of Commerce back in Albany, NY. They were shooting those t-shirts from a hand-cannon, and as I waited in the aisle in case the RiverRats mascot turned it our direction, I flashed on that Miller beer commercial where an old guy closes his eyes and sticks his glove up in hopes of catching a home run. The guy behind him snags the ball and drops it in the mitt, getting a manly chuck in the chest and beer tap from his buddy. Amazingly, that t-shirt smacked into my hand without me moving it an inch, and I immediately gave it to a girl whose birthday was the next day, even though it was actually MY birthday.
Nobody bought me a beer for that, and my baseline philosophy about those two incidents is, if there's no great difference between two choices, there is absolutely no reason to be anything less than gracious-cool about the options. Take those empty seats one row back; let the other guy into traffic when nobody is really going to get anywhere too quick anyway. And, when you get a clear cut vision about something like what happened with that hockey game, follow through on that feeling. At some point maybe karma comes back with thoughts about five or six particular numbers, but you will *always* have a story that makes you feel good when you tell it.
Glenn S.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
SPRINT Championship (almost) Foregone Conclusion, but Watch My Smoke
Having knocked out a bike ride of nearly 20 miles for the third time in a week, I pronounce myself ready for a sprint where Jimmy Johnson has no greater chance of denying me than all those going-left NASCAR guys have of stopping him from a fourth straight championship.
Okay, that's probably a specious statement, since Jimmy's Sprint season has been loaded with results and my sprint is predicated on writing a 50,000 word novel in thirty days, so let's just agree that we'll both hit the desired final wire around Thanksgiving and he'll get both plenty of attention and a butt-load more dinero for his achievement.
I kind of understand the scoring system for NASCAR's championship, but its somewhat telling that most calculations about the possibility of derailing Mr. Johnson's crowning revolve around "and he gets caught in a huge wreck at Talladega." While a DNF (did not finish) means no points and obviously those drivers closest to Johnson's total would make progress if they manage to avoid the wrecks that are legendary at Talladega, JJ has kept a remarkably 'clean' car all season. (FYI- the radically slanted super-speedway provides centrifigual force that keeps cars on the upper edge vs. usual higher-or-lower search for the best groove. Cars run in extended lines because when one gets out of what cyclists might call the peleton, its impossible to squeeze back in. The result is fast pacing, little passing, and when "something happens", it usually catches a whoooole LOT of people in the mess.) In fact, Johnson's last DNF *was* at Talladega in 2006--he was dueling for the lead with Dale Ernhardt, Jr. on the last lap and they both got taken out by Brian Vickers. It *could* happen, but with four races to go, you'd could get long odds that he'd suddenly get a real run of negatives and get caught in the points race, where he leads Mark Martin by 118, Jeff Gordon by 150, and the loveable, Burger King-eating Tony Stewart by 192.
Like everyone except Jimmy, I won't be winning a championship in November. I may not even watch much of that other major November championship, The World Series between the Phillies and Yankees, because keeping the pedal to the metal is the only way to get to the finish line on that 50K. I'm saving one Saturday off in order to catch some Charlotte Rugby Club action out at Skillbeck Athletic Grounds, and I'm expecting to make it to at least one HS football playoff game in the next three weeks. Other than that, and some 15-mile bike rides that take about an hour and add staying power to the physical demands one might not suspect are involved in the writing process (oh, and I guess that 'real job' thing will require some time and effort), I'm locked into this race till the end.
Predictions: Jimmy wins his Sprint championship by oh, 88 points over truly 'old boy' Martin without crashing at Talladega; the Yankees return to the top of the baseball heap in a thrilling six games with Mr. Clutch Derek Jeter or A-Rod (see ball, hit ball is working for you Alex!) the MVP; Independence HS makes it to the state finals, and I survive many, many hours alone with my computer before producing something I'll be equally proud about accomplishing, just about the time I scarf the last of any leftover turkey.
Glenn S.
Okay, that's probably a specious statement, since Jimmy's Sprint season has been loaded with results and my sprint is predicated on writing a 50,000 word novel in thirty days, so let's just agree that we'll both hit the desired final wire around Thanksgiving and he'll get both plenty of attention and a butt-load more dinero for his achievement.
I kind of understand the scoring system for NASCAR's championship, but its somewhat telling that most calculations about the possibility of derailing Mr. Johnson's crowning revolve around "and he gets caught in a huge wreck at Talladega." While a DNF (did not finish) means no points and obviously those drivers closest to Johnson's total would make progress if they manage to avoid the wrecks that are legendary at Talladega, JJ has kept a remarkably 'clean' car all season. (FYI- the radically slanted super-speedway provides centrifigual force that keeps cars on the upper edge vs. usual higher-or-lower search for the best groove. Cars run in extended lines because when one gets out of what cyclists might call the peleton, its impossible to squeeze back in. The result is fast pacing, little passing, and when "something happens", it usually catches a whoooole LOT of people in the mess.) In fact, Johnson's last DNF *was* at Talladega in 2006--he was dueling for the lead with Dale Ernhardt, Jr. on the last lap and they both got taken out by Brian Vickers. It *could* happen, but with four races to go, you'd could get long odds that he'd suddenly get a real run of negatives and get caught in the points race, where he leads Mark Martin by 118, Jeff Gordon by 150, and the loveable, Burger King-eating Tony Stewart by 192.
Like everyone except Jimmy, I won't be winning a championship in November. I may not even watch much of that other major November championship, The World Series between the Phillies and Yankees, because keeping the pedal to the metal is the only way to get to the finish line on that 50K. I'm saving one Saturday off in order to catch some Charlotte Rugby Club action out at Skillbeck Athletic Grounds, and I'm expecting to make it to at least one HS football playoff game in the next three weeks. Other than that, and some 15-mile bike rides that take about an hour and add staying power to the physical demands one might not suspect are involved in the writing process (oh, and I guess that 'real job' thing will require some time and effort), I'm locked into this race till the end.
Predictions: Jimmy wins his Sprint championship by oh, 88 points over truly 'old boy' Martin without crashing at Talladega; the Yankees return to the top of the baseball heap in a thrilling six games with Mr. Clutch Derek Jeter or A-Rod (see ball, hit ball is working for you Alex!) the MVP; Independence HS makes it to the state finals, and I survive many, many hours alone with my computer before producing something I'll be equally proud about accomplishing, just about the time I scarf the last of any leftover turkey.
Glenn S.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Glad I Saw the Game, But...
Watching Independence blow out to a 41-0 half-time lead (it was 27-0 before I got all the way in from the parking lot) and hold South Meck scoreless until 3:01 left in the third before having the reserves hold on for a 55-28 final tally isn't going to help me much in evaluating just how big a game the Butler-Independence shootout is going to be on November 6th. I got fully enlightened on that by the gentleman who was *very* ticked that even though he has obviously supported The Big I as completely as possible with "family packs" of tickets, he would be given no preference when tickets for that particular event went on sale.
That acknowledged "biggie" may well mark a changing of the guard in Mecklenburg high school football. While Butler has built a great rep, Big I has a fistful-plus of championship trophies to show anyone who thinks they rate being called the best. Langston Wertz Jr. (lwertz@charlotteobserver.com) has seen a lot more games than I and puts Butler ahead, and I wish his one man campaign to have the game played at 6000-seats-plus-great-scoreboard Providence High on Nov. 7th the best of luck. That he thinks the State selection committee will let them play Sat. and delay slotting the two teams for the playoffs even a few hours is probably a Quixotian quest.
Yes, the input of watching Anthony Carrothers go 16-25 for 288 yards and four TDs brought some perspective last Friday, and yes, I admit the first thought was, "You're kidding me, THAT is the QB?!" because he is probably 160 lbs. including his helmet and shoulder pads. The only time he looked like he had any size was when he tossed footballs on the sidelines to 2nd graders during halftime, the lucky students from a local elementary school gaining the privilege because of good behavior.
But when Carrothers throws it for real, you recognize he's a worthy heir to the lineage of excellence that has manned the position for many years at Big I. He has no problem making throws to the sidelines, and several went through receivers hands, probably because there was some real pace on them. On back-to-back throws he put it RIGHT ON the sideline flag from 50 yards out, getting a drop on the first and tough coverage knocking the second away. He snuck a screen pass in the mix for 17, then came an absolute bullet from 33 for the score that showed why he's for real. College scouts are reportedly looking at him, and while one has to wonder if the difference between high school and college linemen will allow for him to continue a la Chris Leak, here's hoping he gets a chance somewhere.
I recall young (yes he was, once upon a time) Bobby Bowden giving scholarships to something like 17 QBs when he took over at West Virginia, primarily because QBs are considered the best athletes and can be turned into players at almost any other position. That same scholarship story indicates Bobby gave all he had to out-of-staters, stating definitively that West Virginia didn't have anyone that rated a scholarship, which is why he didn't stay at WVU very long. You'd like to think Carrothers ability gets him such a shot as well.
Not that there's anything wrong with being "just" a really good player on a really good team. With all the hype about Butler's Christian LeMay, who I doubt I'll get to see this Friday because of commitments, one still wonders how good they are until teams that can really test them show up. LeMay's stats are relatively low yardage-wise, which you have to give their coach credit for. He is certainly super-accurate, going 9-11 for 177 and three TDs while Butler massacred Ardrey Kell 67-0, and playing just the first half shows restraint, even if receiver Anthony Short had 181 total yards and four touchdowns.
And people, if you haven't caught a HS football game in a while, do something about that, because the atmosphere will put you on the Memory Train. No, we might not *think* we were such silly teenagers, we definitely didn't have cell phones, but when the cheerleaders are shaking it and the dads in the stands are shouting encouragement to individual players for a hit, catch, block, or event of note, you can't help but remember "back in the day" yourself. I've got a baseline notion of what a top team and QB looks like now, but I also know teams like West Charlotte have massive O-lineman, and I didn't see that at Independence. Guess I will have to TIVO some of the college games and watch some playoff games in the near future to really know the deal.
Glenn S.
That acknowledged "biggie" may well mark a changing of the guard in Mecklenburg high school football. While Butler has built a great rep, Big I has a fistful-plus of championship trophies to show anyone who thinks they rate being called the best. Langston Wertz Jr. (lwertz@charlotteobserver.com) has seen a lot more games than I and puts Butler ahead, and I wish his one man campaign to have the game played at 6000-seats-plus-great-scoreboard Providence High on Nov. 7th the best of luck. That he thinks the State selection committee will let them play Sat. and delay slotting the two teams for the playoffs even a few hours is probably a Quixotian quest.
Yes, the input of watching Anthony Carrothers go 16-25 for 288 yards and four TDs brought some perspective last Friday, and yes, I admit the first thought was, "You're kidding me, THAT is the QB?!" because he is probably 160 lbs. including his helmet and shoulder pads. The only time he looked like he had any size was when he tossed footballs on the sidelines to 2nd graders during halftime, the lucky students from a local elementary school gaining the privilege because of good behavior.
But when Carrothers throws it for real, you recognize he's a worthy heir to the lineage of excellence that has manned the position for many years at Big I. He has no problem making throws to the sidelines, and several went through receivers hands, probably because there was some real pace on them. On back-to-back throws he put it RIGHT ON the sideline flag from 50 yards out, getting a drop on the first and tough coverage knocking the second away. He snuck a screen pass in the mix for 17, then came an absolute bullet from 33 for the score that showed why he's for real. College scouts are reportedly looking at him, and while one has to wonder if the difference between high school and college linemen will allow for him to continue a la Chris Leak, here's hoping he gets a chance somewhere.
I recall young (yes he was, once upon a time) Bobby Bowden giving scholarships to something like 17 QBs when he took over at West Virginia, primarily because QBs are considered the best athletes and can be turned into players at almost any other position. That same scholarship story indicates Bobby gave all he had to out-of-staters, stating definitively that West Virginia didn't have anyone that rated a scholarship, which is why he didn't stay at WVU very long. You'd like to think Carrothers ability gets him such a shot as well.
Not that there's anything wrong with being "just" a really good player on a really good team. With all the hype about Butler's Christian LeMay, who I doubt I'll get to see this Friday because of commitments, one still wonders how good they are until teams that can really test them show up. LeMay's stats are relatively low yardage-wise, which you have to give their coach credit for. He is certainly super-accurate, going 9-11 for 177 and three TDs while Butler massacred Ardrey Kell 67-0, and playing just the first half shows restraint, even if receiver Anthony Short had 181 total yards and four touchdowns.
And people, if you haven't caught a HS football game in a while, do something about that, because the atmosphere will put you on the Memory Train. No, we might not *think* we were such silly teenagers, we definitely didn't have cell phones, but when the cheerleaders are shaking it and the dads in the stands are shouting encouragement to individual players for a hit, catch, block, or event of note, you can't help but remember "back in the day" yourself. I've got a baseline notion of what a top team and QB looks like now, but I also know teams like West Charlotte have massive O-lineman, and I didn't see that at Independence. Guess I will have to TIVO some of the college games and watch some playoff games in the near future to really know the deal.
Glenn S.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
"The Only Thing America Likes Better Than a Hero...
...is a fallen hero" is how a particular negative line often goes, and yeah, we seem to like pointing out when some individual or team proves to be more human-slash-fallible than we had believed. Right now a lot of people are looking at the Dallas Cowboys, they of the $1.2 billion stadium with its mega-huge-even-by-Texas-standards TV screen and will-Bum's-kid-get-the-boot? type record after barely finishing off pitiful Kansas City in overtime on Sunday. You can read the controversy about Tony Romo's foibles as a QB or the fact they haven't won a playoff game since 1996 and get the gist of how human they have become.
Me, I'm committed to going to the Independence HS game on Friday, and yes, its because they are looking less like human steamrollers and more like high school kids than most people in the Charlotte area can recall.
In 2007 Independence lost to Cincinatti's Elder HS, ending a 109-game winning streak, then lost a second time to Butler. In 2008 their seven year run as State 4-AA champions ended, and while they are undefeated (8-0) this year, it took an interception late in the game to barely pull out a win over Providence HS 31-27 their last time out. Heck, Butler is ranked ahead of them both in the local Sweet 16 and at the State and national levels, but thats going to get sorted out in the most definitive way on November 6th when the two programs collide at Butler. It seems legit to see how Big I responds after a nail-biter against "ordinary" opposition before watching a REALLY big game, and I'm actually excited about attending my first high school game since, well, maybe the early 80s.
Football, in case you didn't actually know this, is a VERY big deal in the South, and it's impressive that teams like Independence actually travel to someplace like Cincinatti, or that Charlotte Catholic traveled to play-beat a Florida team, Jupiter Christian, that owned the states longest win streak (32 games) 37-25 last week. As much as I appreciate the rifle-armed QBs the college game currently showcases (and Colt McCoy is my pick for the best), I'm looking forward to seeing what a well-regarded recruit like Anthony Carrothers or Butler's Christian LeMay can do. LeMay went 11-14 for 182 yards and three TDs against East Meck last week, but I went to an East Meck (now 3-4) practice and wasn't impressed with their sluggishness. It's been suggested that Butler-Independence play at Providence HS in order to utilize the biggest on-campus stadium in the area and its not Texas-sized but still terrific video scoreboard screen. Games of this caliber have usually been held at Memorial Stadium on the CPCC campus, but its under construction now.
Just an extra note about another local football game: wasn't that just the most unexpectedly good comeback victory you'd want to see, having the Panthers, now 1-3, come back from down 17-2 to win against the Redskins? And speaking of fallen heroes, how about the idea of linebacker Jon Beason semi-calling out Julius Peppers on a radio show last Thursday about his lack of production? I'm glad they gave Thomas Davis the safety vs. Peppers, but at least the big man's name was uttered on several occasions. Beason spoke true, and if it rattled some people, so be it. Americans also like to see 'heroes' kick some tail instead of perform under the radar. Even if he's more of an anti-hero, you can put a check mark next to 'responded in clutch' for Rickie Williams of the Dolphins in that respect. Their win over the Jets was another gut-check win. Even if I still can't believe the 'Fins didn't pick the franchise QB that Matt Ryan is proving to be in Atlanta, congrats to Williams and Chad Henne for doing the deed when given their chances.
Glenn S.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
The Purity of an Underdog's Effort
Having just watched the Twins survive a bases loaded top of the 12th against Detroit and then score to put themselves into an unlikely playoff against the mighty Yankees, I'm probably one of a thousand or so writers wondering what comes next. Will the proverbial gas tank be empty of emotion and/or effort when they step into the magnificent $1.5 billion structure that is Yankee Stadium (and yes, like the 'Marvelous' that Marvin Hagler saw before his name so frequently that he finally added it legally, the price tag for the House that Steinbrenner built will surely always be there), or will they believe they are *Destined* and continue over-achieving?
It's so true that America loves its underdogs, beginning with the rag-tag conglomeration that was the Continental Army challenging the highly favored British Empire to da Bums of Brooklyn, celebrated in every WWII flick as the dying kid's deepest wish to see win the Series before he died, to Lake Placid's 'Miracle on Ice' victory over the Russians and well, Kurt Schilling's bloody sock and the Red Sox finally beating the Yankees in the clutch and then winning a Series for the first time in longer than most humans live on this planet, we cherish watching sports for exactly this sort of impossible scaling of the heights.
If you've ever been on the mind-bending winning side of the equation, its simply something that can be withdrawn from the Memory Bank when things aren't going at all well and provides an emergency transfusion of air back into your cajone holder, or conversely, be placed alongside circumstances that are exceptionally favorable--say, discovering those silver dollars Grandpa gave you way back when you were five are worth like $50,000--and be delighted just how crazy good that feeling overpowers whatever is second. Having previously overcome that small-market-team-beats-the-odds mountain before (Kirbo and Jack Morris defeating the dominant Braves) maybe this Twins version isn't that same category though...
Finding the Rochester Institute of Technology game program from 1979 when I was coaching the Brockport State girls hockey club as a college senior revived my own underdog memories, and since I was actually searching boxes trying to find 2005 and 2006 state tax returns, such a diversion was welcome.
'The Game' was actually against Ithaca College, which had beaten us 3-1 a week earlier at Brockport, getting an empty net goal with :02 after we'd done a textbook job of keeping the puck in their zone for over a minute and peppering their goalie with 6-7 quality shots. Going to play them at Lynah Arena on the Cornell campus was about Big Time Payback, a truly amazing attitude for a club team with **ONLY TEN PLAYERS** going against a varsity team of 20 identically outfitted players. Their coach noted "some of your girls don't have cages on their helmets" in our pre-game meeting and that cages were mandatory for ECAC teams, which was true, but we were a CLUB team (one step above 'interest group') and intramural helmets was the best we could do.
Actually, our goalie (Judy Dufresne) represented our single best chance of winning, and my only rule as a coach was that NOBODY be allowed close enough to put ice shavings on her back when she covered up pucks. Judy was wearing a purple-gold LA Kings jersey while the other girls wore green, including four cold, wet, stinking jerseys that I'd borrowed after the men's varsity practice the previous afternoon and tossed into an equipment bag. When one of the girls commented about those aspects I only said, "Put it on, we gotta tape a number on it." I'd borrowed some other equipment (sticks and shin pads) early that Saturday morning, and believe me, guys knocking on doors at 8:30 are NOT the most welcome people in college. I guess I should be grateful that the "venerable" VW bus I got from someone never made it off the campus because the gears were shot--if they'd failed on the hilly terrain around Ithaca or even on the three hour drive there, we'd *really* have been in deep poop.
It was funny LATER, but when I arrived at the athletic complex to pick everyone up, hearing that "Barbie's sick!" was a killer notion, because Barb Hain, *maybe* 5-feet of energetic enthusiasm, was one of three key players. Barb went from playing field hockey to hockey to lacrosse and was an awesome combination of quick and fast--she got past you, chances of catching her were slim. I originally recruited her during a foosball game. While we had to stop several times en route for her to puke, it turned out to just be 'Freshman Flu', also called a hangover. Because Ithaca didn't 100% clear the ice time with the Cornell men's JV, our game started over an hour late, and Barb recovered enough to score two goals and skate like a demon the entire game.
In fact, four girls scored two each as we whipped the Blue Bombers 8-2, and I swear my feet never touched the ice going over to say "nice game" to their coach. Linda Wilcox, who had been a four year starter for Ithaca (and still struck fear into players who remembered her hits in practice) had two and was truly a coach on the ice while playing a ton of multiple shifts; she could only play for us because while her eligibility was used up, we weren't ECAC varsity.
That my brother Steve, who played JV hoops and did crew at Cornell as a freshman, knew I was coming and brought my folks, aunt, uncle, and nephew to the game before they went to see his game counts huge in the scheme of remembering. Mom mentioned that "all the girls have enormous rear ends", clueless about hockey padding and what my being a coach meant in any Bigger Picture. I was super cool in my three piece suit and polyester print shirt, snapping open the gate as we rotated nine players through three-15 minute periods... The girls thought it was hilarious that the Ithaca players got interviewed for local TV after we'd laid such a beating on them.
It was below zero driving back to Brockport, and it was a good thing we had extra blankets to wrap up in and a little herb to keep the post-game 'high' going strong. Barb got drilled in a men's hockey class shortly after that game (I'm sure the guy was proud to have finally caught up to her), and Judy, also playing in a men's game to stay sharp, popped a blood vessel behind her eye and missed our last game, another 6-1 loss to RIT. 'Space Cadet' Jeanette soaked a soft cast from a Tues. volleyball injury off, and the ankle was so heavily taped she could barely get her foot into the skate. I got a great lesson in life while telling a teary female, who felt she'd let the team down because several barely moving shots scored (she didnt tell us she couldn't see s**t in the mask) and wanted to just leave, thanks for trying to take Judy's goalie duties but your buddies still need you to stay and play defense. As a team and athletes we had nothing left to give, so that Ithaca game was the best memory I'll ever expect to have--they absolutely played better than I can give myself credit for coaching. Hell, I put 'Head Coach Womens Ice Hockey Team' on my resume for five years after graduation simply because of my respect for what they had accomplished that particular afternoon.
I might add that I contacted the Charlotte Checkers ECHL team about a chance to strap on the goalie pads yesterday too. We'll see how that desire to maybe have Chubby the mascot take some shots at me 30 years after my last intramural game comes along in the next couple weeks. I'm willing to sign a bunch of CYA (cover your ass) paperwork to make it come true, and I *do* have a job with medical coverage just in case...
It's so true that America loves its underdogs, beginning with the rag-tag conglomeration that was the Continental Army challenging the highly favored British Empire to da Bums of Brooklyn, celebrated in every WWII flick as the dying kid's deepest wish to see win the Series before he died, to Lake Placid's 'Miracle on Ice' victory over the Russians and well, Kurt Schilling's bloody sock and the Red Sox finally beating the Yankees in the clutch and then winning a Series for the first time in longer than most humans live on this planet, we cherish watching sports for exactly this sort of impossible scaling of the heights.
If you've ever been on the mind-bending winning side of the equation, its simply something that can be withdrawn from the Memory Bank when things aren't going at all well and provides an emergency transfusion of air back into your cajone holder, or conversely, be placed alongside circumstances that are exceptionally favorable--say, discovering those silver dollars Grandpa gave you way back when you were five are worth like $50,000--and be delighted just how crazy good that feeling overpowers whatever is second. Having previously overcome that small-market-team-beats-the-odds mountain before (Kirbo and Jack Morris defeating the dominant Braves) maybe this Twins version isn't that same category though...
Finding the Rochester Institute of Technology game program from 1979 when I was coaching the Brockport State girls hockey club as a college senior revived my own underdog memories, and since I was actually searching boxes trying to find 2005 and 2006 state tax returns, such a diversion was welcome.
'The Game' was actually against Ithaca College, which had beaten us 3-1 a week earlier at Brockport, getting an empty net goal with :02 after we'd done a textbook job of keeping the puck in their zone for over a minute and peppering their goalie with 6-7 quality shots. Going to play them at Lynah Arena on the Cornell campus was about Big Time Payback, a truly amazing attitude for a club team with **ONLY TEN PLAYERS** going against a varsity team of 20 identically outfitted players. Their coach noted "some of your girls don't have cages on their helmets" in our pre-game meeting and that cages were mandatory for ECAC teams, which was true, but we were a CLUB team (one step above 'interest group') and intramural helmets was the best we could do.
Actually, our goalie (Judy Dufresne) represented our single best chance of winning, and my only rule as a coach was that NOBODY be allowed close enough to put ice shavings on her back when she covered up pucks. Judy was wearing a purple-gold LA Kings jersey while the other girls wore green, including four cold, wet, stinking jerseys that I'd borrowed after the men's varsity practice the previous afternoon and tossed into an equipment bag. When one of the girls commented about those aspects I only said, "Put it on, we gotta tape a number on it." I'd borrowed some other equipment (sticks and shin pads) early that Saturday morning, and believe me, guys knocking on doors at 8:30 are NOT the most welcome people in college. I guess I should be grateful that the "venerable" VW bus I got from someone never made it off the campus because the gears were shot--if they'd failed on the hilly terrain around Ithaca or even on the three hour drive there, we'd *really* have been in deep poop.
It was funny LATER, but when I arrived at the athletic complex to pick everyone up, hearing that "Barbie's sick!" was a killer notion, because Barb Hain, *maybe* 5-feet of energetic enthusiasm, was one of three key players. Barb went from playing field hockey to hockey to lacrosse and was an awesome combination of quick and fast--she got past you, chances of catching her were slim. I originally recruited her during a foosball game. While we had to stop several times en route for her to puke, it turned out to just be 'Freshman Flu', also called a hangover. Because Ithaca didn't 100% clear the ice time with the Cornell men's JV, our game started over an hour late, and Barb recovered enough to score two goals and skate like a demon the entire game.
In fact, four girls scored two each as we whipped the Blue Bombers 8-2, and I swear my feet never touched the ice going over to say "nice game" to their coach. Linda Wilcox, who had been a four year starter for Ithaca (and still struck fear into players who remembered her hits in practice) had two and was truly a coach on the ice while playing a ton of multiple shifts; she could only play for us because while her eligibility was used up, we weren't ECAC varsity.
That my brother Steve, who played JV hoops and did crew at Cornell as a freshman, knew I was coming and brought my folks, aunt, uncle, and nephew to the game before they went to see his game counts huge in the scheme of remembering. Mom mentioned that "all the girls have enormous rear ends", clueless about hockey padding and what my being a coach meant in any Bigger Picture. I was super cool in my three piece suit and polyester print shirt, snapping open the gate as we rotated nine players through three-15 minute periods... The girls thought it was hilarious that the Ithaca players got interviewed for local TV after we'd laid such a beating on them.
It was below zero driving back to Brockport, and it was a good thing we had extra blankets to wrap up in and a little herb to keep the post-game 'high' going strong. Barb got drilled in a men's hockey class shortly after that game (I'm sure the guy was proud to have finally caught up to her), and Judy, also playing in a men's game to stay sharp, popped a blood vessel behind her eye and missed our last game, another 6-1 loss to RIT. 'Space Cadet' Jeanette soaked a soft cast from a Tues. volleyball injury off, and the ankle was so heavily taped she could barely get her foot into the skate. I got a great lesson in life while telling a teary female, who felt she'd let the team down because several barely moving shots scored (she didnt tell us she couldn't see s**t in the mask) and wanted to just leave, thanks for trying to take Judy's goalie duties but your buddies still need you to stay and play defense. As a team and athletes we had nothing left to give, so that Ithaca game was the best memory I'll ever expect to have--they absolutely played better than I can give myself credit for coaching. Hell, I put 'Head Coach Womens Ice Hockey Team' on my resume for five years after graduation simply because of my respect for what they had accomplished that particular afternoon.
I might add that I contacted the Charlotte Checkers ECHL team about a chance to strap on the goalie pads yesterday too. We'll see how that desire to maybe have Chubby the mascot take some shots at me 30 years after my last intramural game comes along in the next couple weeks. I'm willing to sign a bunch of CYA (cover your ass) paperwork to make it come true, and I *do* have a job with medical coverage just in case...
Monday, September 28, 2009
No Rugby, No Taunting, No Bitchin' About BCS Bids
I've got a bunch of thoughts going, and while my initial one this past misty and cool Saturday morning was just how perfect it would have been to watch (participation is not really an option) some ruggers put a lick on each other, my opinion about potential Bowl Championship Series bids is not going to change between now and the beginning of January, so I'll lay it out there now.
If you are a team like Univ. of South Florida (which put a beating on Florida State in Tallahasee), Utah, or Boise State, and you've previously complained about not getting the proper respect for your program when major bowl bids (meaning Orange, Sugar, Fiesta, Rose) went out, this is your year to put up or shut up.
After last weeks dynamic games, and at the risk of trivializing what our troops in Afghanistan and Iraq face far too often, a couple bombs went off in college football Saturday, and LOTS of teams now have an opportunity that might not have existed before. Read the comments of ANY pollster, and outside of the top three of Florida-Alabama-Texas, its a total crap shoot about where one places teams moving up or down the ladder. Boise State is at #5, and they now control their own fate--no crying if you lose and voters think you were lucky to get considered. Now North Carolina, that's another story--I have to believe the 2 points received after a disheartening (but not out of character) 24-7 loss to Georgia Tech put them at 3-1 were from a local writer. For the record, and relative to last weeks comment about my USF-grad brother, he can't stop telling people how WE beat Bowden's Boys...
Taunting is something that gets called periodically at both the professional and collegiate level, and while I'm usually willing to let some 19-year old put on the dog a little after an electrifying run or game-breaking play against a special team before 90,000 or similar circumstances, there was an incident here is Charlotte recently that showed how such examples often get copied. Near the end of what was a hard-fought game between Providence Day and Concord First Assembly on Sept. 18, CFA intercepted a Providence pass and ran in it for the sealing TD. At the end of the run, the player essentially showed the ball to a chasing opponent, who punched him in the back and precipitated a bench clearing brawl; Thursday the NC Independent Schools Athletic Association suspended both coaches (the highly regarded Bruce Hardin of Providence, former Carolina Panther safety Mike Minter of First Assembly) from this past week's game.
The rationale was that *someone* had to be held accountable, and the ideals of sportsmanship had to be upheld. I offer a split opinion, and I look to the Oregon-Boise St. brawl that started the current college season for obvious similarities. The Oregon player who sucker-punched the Boise player was suspended for the year, a harsh but realistic punishment under the circumstances. This HS game though, well, there was an article in the Charlotte Observer about how the Providence Day players apologized to their coach at their Saturday morning meeting because they recognized how their actions reflected on him, and while I didn't see anything from Mike Minter about punishing the original taunter, I believe justice was done over a heat-of-the-moment incident. Suspending the coaches, I guess its legitimate, but I am seldom in favor of putting the blame on anyone but the specific parties, meaning those two players whose actions began things.
As for rugby, it wouldn't have made a difference if I'd had the day off because the top local group, Charlotte Rugby Club (see www.charlotterugby.com ) was in Washington, DC, where the First and Second XV both registered victories. I do have exceptionally fond memories of being a Schenectady Red and having at it in weather like Saturday's in the Upstate (NY) Rugby Union. I played for 12 seasons, beginning on the wing and ending my career as a flyhalf (most would equate it with quarterback, though scrumhalfs might argue), but watching while quaffing a few will hopefully be a possibility in the near future.
Coincidentially, that aspect of my athletic career ended in the Fall of 1986. I lacked what might be called a 'good foot' as a flyhalf; most can thump a long punt in their sleep. Having been *starved* for ball at the wing (and even after moving to outside center) for years because of constantly kicking flyhalfs however, I promised my 'B' side backs that we would be running the ball religiously and letting other teams worry about tackling us. It worked well--we were 5-1-1 before my final injury (and may I warn any/all readers to *NEVER* get into a discussion about injuries with a rugger. Not going to belabor the point, just don't!)
I guess the other team figured out I wasn't going to cause them any strategic problems by kicking, because late in the first half, as I turned to spin the ball out, I saw ALL the opposing backs already across the imaginary line behind their teams scrum and charging hard at those I intended to pass to. Like a good option QB I kept the ball and cut into the area away from those otherwise occupied forwards and...I swear I could hear something like that "ahhh-ah-ahh!' chorus of angels you always get in the movies when something religiously special is happening. I know the sun was shining brighter and the grass was *definitely* greener as I took off into territory almost totally without others. It was probably 40 yards to the goalline, and about 5 yards out the fullback finally arrived, but I planted on my left, let him flail past me, then, having locked out a troublesome knee (I was using an inadequate neophrene sleeve) backward, I hobbled the remaining distance and planted the ball between the posts, scoring to end my career.
Limping to the sidelines, I told someone to go in, my knee was finished. "Quit being such a pussy Shorks," came the reply, "there's only like 15 seconds left in the half." If you've ever participated, you know the attitude.
It should be noted that Charlotte fields three sides (the 3rd XV are called the Socialites and play essentially 'friendlies') and while their First XV is designated a Super League team since 2006, they have added youth, high school and U-19s into their organization this year.
Ahhh, rugby memories! The Knickerbockers (Albany, NY) were essentially a Super League team in the Northeast, and my Reds nemesis. I still have a championship hat from the 1981 Upstate Tournament where we beat them in a 'B' side match in the semi-finals, shutting them out until the final play of the game, when one of our players punched a Knick who was holding him, right in front of a referee.
Here's the point for anyone who gets into a situation like those Providence players:
You always play hard, and as angry as the Providence team might have been about the taunting, my team had lost 13 STRAIGHT TIMES to the Knicks--can you imagine how we would have felt if we hadn't won that game on the second overtime penalty kick? No great memory of two entire days of outstanding defense in that tournament, that swaggering knowledge of having done the deed that carries on for *years*. We knew that getting a try or even a couple penalty kick points meant we'd win because our guys (and yes, some "rugby whores", guys we gave jerseys to and became Reds for the day) were absolutely STIFFING people. All that would have become nothing, because baby, if you get ejected or suspended, you ain't in the game at all!
Glenn S.
If you are a team like Univ. of South Florida (which put a beating on Florida State in Tallahasee), Utah, or Boise State, and you've previously complained about not getting the proper respect for your program when major bowl bids (meaning Orange, Sugar, Fiesta, Rose) went out, this is your year to put up or shut up.
After last weeks dynamic games, and at the risk of trivializing what our troops in Afghanistan and Iraq face far too often, a couple bombs went off in college football Saturday, and LOTS of teams now have an opportunity that might not have existed before. Read the comments of ANY pollster, and outside of the top three of Florida-Alabama-Texas, its a total crap shoot about where one places teams moving up or down the ladder. Boise State is at #5, and they now control their own fate--no crying if you lose and voters think you were lucky to get considered. Now North Carolina, that's another story--I have to believe the 2 points received after a disheartening (but not out of character) 24-7 loss to Georgia Tech put them at 3-1 were from a local writer. For the record, and relative to last weeks comment about my USF-grad brother, he can't stop telling people how WE beat Bowden's Boys...
Taunting is something that gets called periodically at both the professional and collegiate level, and while I'm usually willing to let some 19-year old put on the dog a little after an electrifying run or game-breaking play against a special team before 90,000 or similar circumstances, there was an incident here is Charlotte recently that showed how such examples often get copied. Near the end of what was a hard-fought game between Providence Day and Concord First Assembly on Sept. 18, CFA intercepted a Providence pass and ran in it for the sealing TD. At the end of the run, the player essentially showed the ball to a chasing opponent, who punched him in the back and precipitated a bench clearing brawl; Thursday the NC Independent Schools Athletic Association suspended both coaches (the highly regarded Bruce Hardin of Providence, former Carolina Panther safety Mike Minter of First Assembly) from this past week's game.
The rationale was that *someone* had to be held accountable, and the ideals of sportsmanship had to be upheld. I offer a split opinion, and I look to the Oregon-Boise St. brawl that started the current college season for obvious similarities. The Oregon player who sucker-punched the Boise player was suspended for the year, a harsh but realistic punishment under the circumstances. This HS game though, well, there was an article in the Charlotte Observer about how the Providence Day players apologized to their coach at their Saturday morning meeting because they recognized how their actions reflected on him, and while I didn't see anything from Mike Minter about punishing the original taunter, I believe justice was done over a heat-of-the-moment incident. Suspending the coaches, I guess its legitimate, but I am seldom in favor of putting the blame on anyone but the specific parties, meaning those two players whose actions began things.
As for rugby, it wouldn't have made a difference if I'd had the day off because the top local group, Charlotte Rugby Club (see www.charlotterugby.com ) was in Washington, DC, where the First and Second XV both registered victories. I do have exceptionally fond memories of being a Schenectady Red and having at it in weather like Saturday's in the Upstate (NY) Rugby Union. I played for 12 seasons, beginning on the wing and ending my career as a flyhalf (most would equate it with quarterback, though scrumhalfs might argue), but watching while quaffing a few will hopefully be a possibility in the near future.
Coincidentially, that aspect of my athletic career ended in the Fall of 1986. I lacked what might be called a 'good foot' as a flyhalf; most can thump a long punt in their sleep. Having been *starved* for ball at the wing (and even after moving to outside center) for years because of constantly kicking flyhalfs however, I promised my 'B' side backs that we would be running the ball religiously and letting other teams worry about tackling us. It worked well--we were 5-1-1 before my final injury (and may I warn any/all readers to *NEVER* get into a discussion about injuries with a rugger. Not going to belabor the point, just don't!)
I guess the other team figured out I wasn't going to cause them any strategic problems by kicking, because late in the first half, as I turned to spin the ball out, I saw ALL the opposing backs already across the imaginary line behind their teams scrum and charging hard at those I intended to pass to. Like a good option QB I kept the ball and cut into the area away from those otherwise occupied forwards and...I swear I could hear something like that "ahhh-ah-ahh!' chorus of angels you always get in the movies when something religiously special is happening. I know the sun was shining brighter and the grass was *definitely* greener as I took off into territory almost totally without others. It was probably 40 yards to the goalline, and about 5 yards out the fullback finally arrived, but I planted on my left, let him flail past me, then, having locked out a troublesome knee (I was using an inadequate neophrene sleeve) backward, I hobbled the remaining distance and planted the ball between the posts, scoring to end my career.
Limping to the sidelines, I told someone to go in, my knee was finished. "Quit being such a pussy Shorks," came the reply, "there's only like 15 seconds left in the half." If you've ever participated, you know the attitude.
It should be noted that Charlotte fields three sides (the 3rd XV are called the Socialites and play essentially 'friendlies') and while their First XV is designated a Super League team since 2006, they have added youth, high school and U-19s into their organization this year.
Ahhh, rugby memories! The Knickerbockers (Albany, NY) were essentially a Super League team in the Northeast, and my Reds nemesis. I still have a championship hat from the 1981 Upstate Tournament where we beat them in a 'B' side match in the semi-finals, shutting them out until the final play of the game, when one of our players punched a Knick who was holding him, right in front of a referee.
Here's the point for anyone who gets into a situation like those Providence players:
You always play hard, and as angry as the Providence team might have been about the taunting, my team had lost 13 STRAIGHT TIMES to the Knicks--can you imagine how we would have felt if we hadn't won that game on the second overtime penalty kick? No great memory of two entire days of outstanding defense in that tournament, that swaggering knowledge of having done the deed that carries on for *years*. We knew that getting a try or even a couple penalty kick points meant we'd win because our guys (and yes, some "rugby whores", guys we gave jerseys to and became Reds for the day) were absolutely STIFFING people. All that would have become nothing, because baby, if you get ejected or suspended, you ain't in the game at all!
Glenn S.
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