Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Ill communication

The better half has left on a jet plane back east, so I'm here solo (with the two furry little monsters) for eight days, until I, too, fly east to join her and my family for four days of belated Christmas.

Solo and sick. I've been coughing for a week and a half, which means I'm a couple days away from investigating whether I actually have a thing, not just another of the umpteen December colds I've had in my life. The only benefit is that sickness forces me to wake up early and go to bed early, habits I have difficulty embracing when there's no one here to so encourage me.

But this'll be good practice for the upcoming long-distance-relationship stint. I'm prowling for apartments ... we'll soon see if anyone at the new job is in the market for a low-impact roommate. I forgot how much more expensive rent is away from Louisville. Ugh.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Remember me?

Tall, dark, bad at blogging? At your service.

I think that I kept putting off blogging because nothing was really going on. But now something's going on: I got a new job. I'm leaving Horseopolis for South Jersey, to report for the Press of Atlantic City. I start Jan. 20.

No, Holly didn't kick me to the curb. We always figured that the not-really-booming journalism job market meant that once it got reasonably close to the time when she'd begin moving around the country for fourth-year rotations anyway, I should pursue an attractive job in the Philadelphia area, which is where we want to settle. Who knows when the next one would come up?

Well, this job caught my eye, I chatted with the editor, liked what I heard, liked what I saw when I visited, and when they made me an offer today, I took it. I'll try to room with a new colleague or somebody else, or find a cheap studio. And we'll look for a roommate for Holly in Louisville, possibly another med student.

It's an exciting and bittersweet development. Louisville took a few months to grow on me, but I've long since thought of it as home. I enjoy my current job, I have friends and a wonderful home life with my bride-to-be. But I have friends and family back east, I think I'll enjoy my next job immensely, and the long-distance-relationship stint coming up has an end date to it.

So there you go. The blog is back. Discuss.

Sunday, October 7, 2007

Oh well

The Phillies turned in a dispiriting showing against the Rockies in the NLDS. Three games, three losses, zero offense.

But hey. I didn't truly think the Phillies would make the playoffs until the last weekend of the season. Their pitching was a mess. It's hard to believe that they could not only get to the playoffs with that pitching, but also manage to pitch better than they hit once they got there.

I'm proud of the team for a brilliant final two weeks of September and a hard-fought season the whole way. Hopefully, with a few offseason additions and subtractions, they can go a little farther next year.

That's the reality of being a fan. Unless your team wins the World Series, everybody gets around to saying "Wait til next year" at some point in October. I'm glad I got a one-week reprieve this year.

Saturday, October 6, 2007

Sinking like a stone

Ugh. The Phillies are really testing the limits of my willingness to accept merely a playoff berth.

I don't think I'll be watching Game 3 tonight. But if they win Game 3, I will watch the idiotically timed 10 p.m.-Sunday Game 4.

Sunday, September 30, 2007

How it happened

I stalled before the games started Sunday, watching Silence of the Lambs.

Lovely stuff: "His pulse never got above 85, not even when he ate her tongue."

My pulse was closer to 4,000, and I was ready to eat my own tongue. The Phillies and Mets were tied for the division lead with one game to play each.

I commandeered my lovely, understanding fiancee's computer, watching the video feed of the Phillies on my laptop and following the progress of the Mets on the other.

Though I hadn't had breakfast, all I could eat during the games was two bites of fried chicken. It's like it was when I ran track and XC ... too nervous to get anything down.

As both games went in a positive direction, I began to count half-innings ... three at-bats left for the Mets, four for the Nationals. I left the couch maybe twice. And when the last pitch buckled Wily Mo Pena's knees, I bellowed a few ohmygods, high-fived, hugged and kissed my girl, and then, um ...

OK, I cried. Pretty enthusiastically. But only for 15 to 30 seconds.

Then it was time to place a few phone calls and texts to fellow long-suffering Phillies fans. Dad, Mom, Joel and Duc and Stew.

I also got a congratulatory message from a guy who had a lousy day: my brother-in-law, Brian, the classiest Mets fan in the business. And I don't mean that in a damning-with-faint-praise manner. Mets in '06, Phils in '07 ... one of these years, we'll both be there, man.

Now on to baseball-nerd business: the postseason roster. The Phillies can bring 25 players to the Division Series. If they make the LCS, they can tinker with the roster to bring another 25, and same with the World Series. Here's who I'd take:

Starters: Cole Hamels, Jamie Moyer, Kyle Kendrick, Kyle Lohse.
(No surprises here. You only need four starters in the postseason, and Adam Eaton is the obvious odd man out. I wouldn't even want him around as an innings-eater if one of the four starters does an Adam Eaton impression and stinks up the joint.)

Relievers: Brett Myers, Tom Gordon, J.C. Romero, Geoff Geary, Clay Condrey, Jose Mesa, Fabio Castro.
(The first three are obvious. The next two pitched brilliantly in September: Geary 2.65 in 17 IP, Condrey 0.73 in 12 1/3. Mesa was at 3.72 this month, and he's a former closer, whatever you think about him now, so he's in there. Castro's the wild card, a lefty with potential, though his stats have been nothing to write home about. Maybe Antonio Alfonseca or J.D. Durbin takes this spot instead. But I think the other six have to be a lock.)

Catchers: Carlos Ruiz, Chris Coste.
(I haven't heard anything about how badly Ruiz was hurt on the HBP that knocked him out of the game. Rod Barajas only makes this roster if Ruiz absolutely cannot play anymore this year.)

Infielders: Ryan Howard, Chase Utley, Tadahito Iguchi, Jimmy Rollins, Greg Dobbs, Abraham Nunez.
(Enough with Wes Helms. I don't see him making a positive contribution.)

Outfielders: Pat Burrell, Michael Bourn, Aaron Rowand, Shane Victorino, Jayson Werth, Chris Roberson.
(Roberson not Helms? Yeah. This team has enough hitting ... pinch-runners and defensive replacements are more important in the playoffs than in the regular season.)

4 starters
7 relievers
2 catchers
6 infielders
6 outfielders
= 25

Maybe that roster is sort of the one I WANT them to use. I think it'll be hard for them to leave Alfonseca and Helms off the roster in favor of Castro and Roberson, and maybe Barajas squeezes on even if Chucha Ruiz can still go.

I guess we'll see Monday or Tuesday. Can't wait. And can't wait to relax Monday night while our two prospective opponents fight each other.

Best of all, the Padres throw Jake Peavy, the best pitcher in the National League, Monday night, and the Division Series games are Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday, Sunday and Tuesday.

That means if the Padres win, they'd have to throw Peavy on two days' rest at least once to start him in two games. Thursday, then Tuesday? More likely they save him for Saturday on four days' rest, pitching Game 3 in San Diego. But regardless, the fact that the Padres saved Peavy for Monday rather than throwing him today to sew things up was a huge miscalculation.

OK, enough blogging for tonight. Enjoy the playoffs, those of you who are so inclined. As court jester extraordinaire Dane Cook says, "There's only one postseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeason!"

...

The Phillies are in the playoffs. They did it.

That's all I got, my brains are mush. What a phenomenal feeling.

Saturday, September 29, 2007

I can't come up with a post headline to save my life

The last few days have been dizzying to Phillies fans. With a cruise-control win last night and the Mets' death-by-a-thousand-HBPs loss, the team suddenly controls its destiny.

Regardless of what the Mets do this afternoon, if Adam Eaton can throw five innings of three-run ball or less in the later game, I think the Phillies will win the division. Joel Hanrahan gives the Phillies hitters fits, but they're hitting too well in the clutch right now to choke, I think. I hope.

Last night, I watched both games in a bar with my friend Shea, an Astros fan and mercenary Phillies supporter this week. If this post reads like I'm tired, well, you can thank the Blue Moons and White Russians that were part of my balanced diet last night.

Quite a mix, actually - Blue Moons and White Russians. I call that diet Cerulean Sputnik.

Nothing? Bah. OK, fine, I'll get some more sleep. Go Phillies.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

There were two beers left in the fridge.

At 7:05 p.m., I drink the first one to calm my nerves.

Holly's already asleep, set to wake up around 4 a.m. to start a 27- to 30-hour surgery shift. I'm in the next room, the living room, sitting on the leftmost of the three couch cushions, crouched over looking at my laptop screen.

The computer video feed is flawless, even at full screen. The computer provides the only light in the apartment -- and the only sound, apart from the occasional AC kicking on.

Well, and apart from my occasional strangled cheers and groans, and my punching the air with every strikeout and double play.

The game was quite an experience, and it started as well as a game possibly could.

First pitch: Rollins slaps a single through the box.
Second pitch: Batting left, Victorino drops a gorgeous bunt down the third-base line as Rollins steams into second. Smoltz grabs it bare-handed and fires it wide of Teixeira at first. The ball smacks into the rolled-tarp at an angle and kicks into right field as Rollins chugs home and Victorino streaks to third.

Utley works a late count, then knocks an average grounder to Teixeira as Victorino takes a few tentative jab-steps toward home. Whether Teixeira was truly distracted by Victy (as Philly announcers surmised) or not, I don't know, but he booted the grounder, Shane walked home and Utley made first safely.

And then Howard came up. And I swear to you, I knew what was coming next.

Howard has struck out so much, SO much, this year that I no longer get those occasional pangs of "uh oh, here he comes, I'll bet he hits one a mile" like I did last August and early September. That's no knock against Howard, but ... OK, maybe it is a knock. But regardless, when he came up against a rattled Smoltz in the first tonight, it was the first time in a while that I really thought, "Smoltz doesn't have a chance here."

And he didn't. It looked like somebody had put the ball on a tee, lined up a fire hose, set it on "STUN" and flipped the switch. Kalas could barely get a mouthful of words out before the ball was in the right-field seats.

Four batters. Four runs. No outs. At least one fan having a silent, slack-jawed seizure. (I'm sure it was more than one, but as a reporter, I don't want to speculate.)

Kendrick was a wizard for five innings, scattering three hits and a walk or two. He left two balls over the plate that Chipper and Teixeira hit out for three runs combined, so he couldn't make it into the seventh. Myers left a ball up for Francoeur to pound out in the ninth, too.

The difference ended up being Burrell, who broke through against a guy who has terrorized him. He came in with two hits in two dozen at-bats against Smoltz, and he left with a two-run dinger that eked into the left-field seats.

There were a few tense moments, but I've seen tenser this year. In the end, I treated myself to another seizure, then popped open the other beer.

And oh yeah, the Mets lost. To Joel Pineiro, who did his best impression of a healthy Chris Carpenter.

So now the Mets and Phillies are tied for the lead of the National League East. The Phillies haven't had a meaningful lead (or share of one) for any potential playoff spot since the last week of 2003, when they proceeded to drop seven of their last eight to the Reds, eventual world champion Marlins and the Braves.

And that was it for Veterans Stadium -- simply a brutal way to end the stadium's life. (The NFC title-game loss to Tampa Bay a few months later managed to top that.)

Now, the Phillies are at home, the Mets are at home. The Phillies are 87-72, the Mets are 87-72. The Phillies play a losing team that has terrorized contenders this fall, and the Mets? Yeah, they do that, too.

Phils v. Nats. Mets v. Fish. Three games each.

If there's still a tie when the weekend's done, the Phils and Mets will meet at Citizens Bank Park for one game. The Phillies would throw Kyle Lohse. The Mets? It'd be Philip Humber's turn in the rotation, but I'll go ahead and guess they'd use Pedro, who threw tonight, instead.

Accckkkkkkkkkkk. Stay tuned.

Here we go

The biggest game of the season is tonight for the Phillies. They face John Smoltz, the Braves' best pitcher, while they throw Kyle Kendrick, their youngest.

The Phillies absolutely, positively need to win this game to still have a realistic chance of making the playoffs. And the game starts in 18 minutes, and I'm nervous.

Will the Phillies' hitters be loose enough? Will they watch Smoltz closely enough to have better luck against him the second time through the order? Will they take enough pitches to make him work? And will Kendrick shut down the Braves' hitters, who will be hacking with impunity knowing that they have nothing to play for and nothing to lose?

Let's find out. And let's feel like we want to vomit. Hooray!

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

What happened to my perspective?

Apparently, perspective is for the live-easy fans of the Yankees, and I guess M.C. Escher.

For fans of the Phillies and other less phortunate phranchises, there is only the grainy aftertaste of an Almost smoothie.

Mini-vent

I hate everything and everyone, everywhere.

Yeah, it's still baseball season. Talk to me in five or six days.

Bleak night

Phillies lost to the Braves' worst starter, while the Padres won with an excruciating four-run comeback in the ninth because Bruce Bochy has no idea when to pull a pitcher.

Not to be too melodramatic, but tonight was a crushing blow to the Phillies. They pretty much have to win out.

Monday, September 24, 2007

The knot!

No, this is not a wedding-related post. The Phillies are tied for the wild-card lead, thanks to a plummeting Padres squad.

NL EAST
Mets 87-69
Phils 85-71

WILD CARD
Phils 85-71
Padres 85-71
Rockies 84-72

All four teams have 6 to play:
Mets: Two against Washington, one against St. Louis, three against Florida.
Phils: Three against Atlanta, three against Washington.
Padres: Two at San Francisco, four at Milwaukee.
Rockies: Three at Los Angeles, three against Arizona.

I like the Mets to go 5-1 on the way out, putting the East out of reach. FINAL: 92-70.

Rockies? They'll take two of three in demoralized L.A., and two of three at home against a potentially coasting Diamondbacks team. FINAL: 88-74.

As for the Padres, they throw Brett Tomko against Matt Cain on Tuesday, then Jake Peavy against some random dude on Wednesday. Figure a split there, then a split in Milwaukee against a team that'll either be fighting for a slim chance of a playoff spot or playing pissed-off baseball in front of fans that didn't honestly expect (before the season) that they'd be a factor the whole season. It could go either way, and the Pads could sweep, but they don't look like a team capable of that right now. 3-3 puts them at ... FINAL: 88-74.

So. Phillies. They face Chuck James, Tim Hudson and John Smoltz on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. I like them to beat James and beat either Hudson or Smoltz while getting punished by the other. That'd mean they'd need to win the Nationals series to make the postseason or avoid a D.C. sweep to join a three-team playoff that I simply can't imagine unfolding. With the Phillies' three best starters taking the hill in the last series and an all-hands-on-deck bullpen (Myers for AT LEAST two innings in the finale, if it's relevant), I think they'll squeak by. FINAL: 89-73.

If I believed in jinxes, I'd now be erasing the previous paragraph instead of typing this one. I've seen enough sports-level heartbreak in the past four Septembers (and four recent Januarys with a certain close-but-no-cigar football team) to take as much enjoyment and as little angst as I can. Jinxes, reverse jinxes and body English are crap, no matter what Carlton Fisk tells you.

That's not to say that I'm completely sane about this thing. Trust me, this will be a ridiculously unproductive work week (staying up to watch West Coast games sucks) but at least it's only one more week. And then it's over, for better or for worse.

The Phillies may make the playoffs this year, they may not. They may win five more World Series in my lifetime, they may never make it there again. But it's pretty safe to say they'll always be around to root for the next spring, so let's keep things in perspective.

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Getting closer

The Phillies have seven games left to play, and they're only a half-game behind the Padres for the wild card, a game and a half behind the Mets for the NL East title.

Mets 86-68
Phillies 85-70

Padres 85-69
Phillies 85-70

The Mets still have one in Florida, three at home against Washington, one at home against St. Louis and three at home against Florida. I predict they finish 6-2, losing once each to Washington and Florida, forging a record of 92-70.

The Padres close with one at home against Colorado, then three in San Francisco and four in Milwaukee. I think they'll take the Colorado game and two of three in San Francisco. The question is whether Milwaukee will still be in contention by the time the Padres visit them.
-If Milwaukee still has a shot at the Cubs, I think they split the final series.
-If not, I think the Padres take three of four.
So that would make the Padres either 6-2 or 5-3 to close, making them either 91-71 or 90-72.

What's that mean for the Phillies? Well, if I'm right, the Phillies must finish no worse than 5-2 to tie the Padres. Only by winning out could they catch the Mets.

Can the Phillies win out? Their final seven starters line up this way, unless the off day changes something: Hamels, Moyer, Lohse, Eaton, Kendrick, Hamels, Moyer.

Here's a dramatic idea: Bump Eaton back. There's an off-day Monday, so you can make it Hamels on Sunday, then Moyer, Lohse and Kendrick (with four days' rest) Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. I much prefer sending sinker-baller Kendrick against the Braves' boppers (in the Citizens Bandbox, mind you) than putting Eaton out there for one final stinkfest.

Then you've got Eaton, Hamels and Moyer for the final set against Washington in Philly. Hey, at least you have a chance to sweep the Braves that way. Maybe even bump Eaton back to the final day of the season, if the first game of the last set is a must win.

Or hey -- what about Hamels, Moyer, Myers? I know it's ludicrous, but you've just seen Myers pitch five straight days and say over and over to the press how willing he is to do ANYTHING right now with the season on the line. Is it beyond the realm of possibility that he could pitch at least the first three, maybe four innings of the finale, then give way to whoever can still lift a ball?

I dunno.

But anyway, prediction for the Phillies' final seven, if the rotation stays as is: Win Sunday in Washington, take two of three from Braves and two of three from Nats at home. That's 5-2 for a 90-72 finish.

Would it be enough?

Arrrgh, I don't know. Maybe the week ahead will be as painful as the final week of '05 and of '06. But at least we're still talking about the team.

By the way, can anybody tell me why on earth Wes Helms pinch-ran for Shane Victorino Saturday night?

Monday, September 17, 2007

Forgot two things:

1) I got passed in the final quarter-mile of the half-marathon by a guy in a pink tutu.
2) My legs were SO sore all day and night Monday. Holly and I are supposed to start a daily regimen of pushups and situps, but it may have to wait a few days.

Really?

Being a sports fan is supposed to be fun? Mmmmm nawsir.

Scores tonight: Phillies 13, Eagles 12.

The Phillies led 11-0 and 12-3, but won the freakin' game 13-11. What a travesty. Shades of the Atlanta game from two weeks ago. Somehow they pulled out a win, but Charlie Manuel is going to be roasted for lifting Kyle Kendrick after six frames.

It's amazing, the razor-thin margin of emotions in sports. The Phillies game ended with two guys on base and Russell Branyan, who I'm convinced could hit a baseball over the Gateway Arch, at the plate. Full count, ball down the middle of the plate.

If he hits that ball out of the park, I'm turning beet red and rolling my eyes back in my head. As it is, I'm flipping over to Baseball Tonight to continue following a pennant race.

Eagles? I don't really care about the Eagles right now, frankly. That'll change when the Phillies' season is over. Suffice it to say that the Eagles wouldn't be giving me much to care about even if I were so inclined.

Success

I didn't wake up at 6 a.m. for a week straight or anything, but I got close enough to a good sleep schedule to be awake for the half-marathon Sunday. And it went surprisingly well.

For the week before, I'd had what felt like sciatic pain in my right leg, so I was afraid that'd subconsciously slow me down, even though there wasn't anything structurally injured. It nagged me a bit before the race, but I didn't feel it at all during and I don't feel it anymore now.

I had a marvelous stroke of luck in the minutes before the race. With 15 minutes to go before the gun, I had to use the bathroom, but the lines for the dozens of portable ones in front of the museum were 50 people long. Duc suggested running to a building a quarter mile down Kelly Drive, so we headed that direction but soon saw three portopotties just behind a fence at a construction site behind the museum, with a little crack in the fence that runners had been squeezing through. No line. In and out in a minute, and I still had time to stretch.

The field was enormous, 16,000 runners squeezed onto Ben Franklin Parkway. My goal was to break a 7:30 pace. That was my mile pace in the marathon I ran in April 2006, and considering I'm not in as good a shape now as I was then, it seemed reasonable.

My first mile was a 7:16; it was tough to get any leg room out there. I mentally cackled at the dudes who had to stop after a mile to use portopotties. Second mile a 6:50, definitely too fast, but I still hadn't started breathing hard. The herd mentality, being surrounded by runners on similar paces, made it impossible to go too much faster or slower.

Starting with the third mile through the 11th mile, all my splits were between 7:03 and 7:10. The slight hill of the final two miles found me slowing down a bit and getting passed by at least a hundred people, but I still came through in 1:33:47, a 7:09 pace.

Duc ran significantly faster than his predicted pace, too, and I think two factors were in play:
1) With so many runners in the race, you could pick anyone to pace off of and then switch to somebody else a minute later if that person suddenly seemed to be too fast or slow for your taste.
2) The weather was immaculate. Low 50s and cloudless when the race started at 7:45 a.m., it was maybe the best running conditions I've experienced.

So what's next? Probably a winter 5K or 10K, then deciding whether to try to beat my 2006 time in the 2008 Louisville marathon. For sure, I'm not going to rest on my laurels for a full year like I did last time.

Monday, September 3, 2007

Stuck in the middle

Weeeeeeell it's 2:29 a.m. and I'm facing a dilemma that should not really be a dilemma and is entirely of my own making.

In 11 days and four and a half hours I'm running a half-marathon. That's at 7 a.m. Despite the fact that I sleep next to a future doctor who has taken to waking at 4 a.m. or earlier to go to surgical shifts, I haven't successfully woken up before 8 a.m. more than a handful of times since the last race I ran, which also was an early-morning affair.

Obviously, I can't sleep. The three-day weekend was a good one, but it screwed up my biorhythms or whatthehellever and now I can't sleep and now it's 2:35. And in 11 days I have to wake up before 6, probably closer to 5, and be lucid and loose enough to run half a marathon at 7.

How best to get on an appropriate sleep schedule?
  • Stay up all night tonight, plow through the day somehow and crash at 9 p.m.?
  • Go to sleep when I'm tired, wake up when I'm not, then go to sleep the next night way, way before I'm tired?
  • Do it in stages? A half-hour earlier each night?
I have no idea. It's frankly bewildering that I'm 27 years old and seemingly incapable of managing my time even in the most basic sense of when I should conveniently sleep.

Also, I have the meat sweats. That is, I ate a lot of meat tonight at a barbecue and it's making me sweat a little bit. And the house is plenty cool. Meat sweats. Yuck.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Saturday, August 11, 2007

Good bye, girlfriend

Hello, fiancee.

Intrigued? six one oh six oh eight eight three five nine

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Monday, July 30, 2007

Stevie Wonder

I thought he had better things to do than park cars in my building's lot. But apparently not. How else do you explain the willy-nilly insanity going on down there these days? I'd like to know how somebody can be smart enough to get a job that pays well enough that he or she can afford a really nice car, yet too stupid to figure out the baffling Angled Space.

Seriously, if there's a stronger collection of numbskulls than my neighbors, have them all spayed and neutered.

Ran 7 miles at 7:30 pace tonight, just short of the race pace I'm looking for in September.

I've also witnessed 474 Phillies players injure themselves in tonight's game, including Michael Bourn tripping over the friggin relic of a bullpen mound on Wrigley Field's first-base line.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Suddenly busy

Out of nowhere, several time-consuming but attractive assignments have landed on my work agenda.
  • Friday morning, a photographer and I will be in the room while a heart surgery is performed. We'll interview the patient beforehand and the doctor afterhand.
  • Monday morning, the same photographer and I are scheduled to do something ridiculous: "review" a refurbished highway cutting through Louisville. We'll drive it as soon as it reopens after a monthlong closure and see how smooth it is, etc.
  • Also next week, we're riding in a B-17 bomber for some reason I haven't determined yet, but there you are.
But uncoolly, Chase Utley broke his hand and will be out for several weeks at least. Wonder if the Phillies can trade for Mark Loretta or something.

WALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLT!

Whoa.

Monday, July 23, 2007

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Book 7 of 7

As with Lost, I'll put my thoughts in a comment to avoid spoilerizing it for anybody.

Saturday, July 14, 2007

I expecto'd a better patronum

"Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" underwhelmed. Too much dialogue, too many minor things from the book too hurriedly explained, etc. Good but not great, but expectations were higher than that.

Also, I just can't think like a journalist when I consider the approach of the Phillies' 10,000th loss. It's getting so much attention, but it's just a stupid round number. And the fact that they're actually going to do things to commemorate the milestone sends the wrong message, I think. I hope the players aren't paying any attention to it, although Pat Burrell is capable of letting anything affect his psyche.

Friday, July 6, 2007

My dream

I woke up two minutes ago, so here's last night's dream before I forget:

I was in a car with Dad, Holly and Jamie Gold, the 2006 World Series of Poker main-event champion. Dad was driving, Holly was shotgun and Gold and I were in the back seat. We'd all been out on some day trip and had been apparently been having pleasant conversation, but then Jamie put in some segue about how he always wants to look his best, then:

Jamie Gold: "There's this nice shirt I've never seen you wear, Holly."
Me: [suddenly lunging at him and grabbing his collar with both hands] "Mind your own (flippity-flapping) business! If she doesn't wear it, there's a reason!"
Jamie Gold: [horrified look subsides into a coolly vengeful one when he realizes I've just physically assaulted him and could be held liable]

Dad told me quietly that I'd been "very irresponsible," and I realized that, so I apologized and suggested we all go out for steaks, on me. But Jamie declined and faux-cheerfully asked us to just take him home. Home turned out to be his mom's house -- she came out to greet him, he left the car wordlessly and I pulled the door closed. Then the dream ended.

I think I was upset mostly because he had alluded to always wanting to look his best, then implied that Holly was shirking her responsibilities in that department by not wearing this particular shirt in her regular rotation. I also wondered if he wasn't being a little bit of a pervert by wanting somebody else's girl to wear a specific item of clothing. But clearly grabbing him fiercely by the collar was not the way to respond.

Why was Jamie Gold the one in the dream? The 2007 main event started yesterday and I was frequently checking online for updates. Gold wasn't playing, but the guy he split his $12M payday with last year was playing. Those guys went to court over the agreement, I think, because Gold tried to get out of it. He did several things that were out of line in last year's tournament vis-a-vis poker etiquette, but I wouldn't dare bore you with those. Suffice it to say my impression of him was enough of a jerk that he could play the villain in my dream.

Whew. Writing that down wasn't exactly cathartic, but it makes me realize how absurd my dreams are.

One ring to rule them all...

One ring to find them
One ring to bring them all
And to the inflatable baby pool bind them.

P.S. I can't look at this picture without thinking, "Brian, your beer is full and surely getting warm! Drink it!"

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

Dire straits

I began a half-marathon-training schedule today ... it tells me I should've started two and a half weeks ago, but nothing to do about that now. The race is Sept. 16 in Philly, and Duc's running it too.

It's steaming hot in Louisville for the 4th. Hope the predicted rain comes through.

Here are photos from my long Shore weekend with the fam.

Monday, June 25, 2007

I'm a ruddy prat

I've been out of touch and not providing Alaska entries, some of which are in draft form. But I've had very little time because, well... I've been reading Harry Potter books around the clock.

Alright, well it started when Holly was reading the sixth one, and me never having read any of them figured I'd read the first. And after reading the first and comparing it with my impressions of the movie, I wanted to move on to the next one for the same reason. I ripped through all 740 pages of the fourth one Sunday and read 400 pages of the fifth one tonight.

Help.

I like Rowling's writing for the most part. It'll never be confused with Tolkien or Hemingway, but it's fun and gripping. What really disturbs me (and this is so stupid of me that it's embarrassing) is the yellow journalism practiced by The Daily Prophet.

I fear that millions of people read Harry Potter books and gain the subconscious impression that newspapers are all biased filth.

This is what I'm worried about. Not being out of shape, not municipal elections, a fake newspaper in a fictional book.

Help.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

Before I forget everything...

...here's my account of Holly's and my trip to Alaska on the Sun Princess.

SUNDAY JUNE 3: We woke up before dawn in a tiny motel room on Maryland's Eastern Shore, trying not to wake up Ducleotide, our buddy with whom we split the room, having attended Smith's and Melbear's nuptials the previous blazing-hot day and boozy night. I drove the empty roads to BWI airport, then we hopped on two painless flights, BWI-Chicago & Chicago-Seattle.

The entire transfer to the boat was similarly unremarkable, but unfortunately (though predictably), so was the "welcome buffet" aboard. Here's where I missed the 24-hour pizza buffet from my family's Caribbean cruise in 2002... reliable all-hours food. The regular restaurants and pizzeria on the Sun were good, though. It's just as well that I lacked incentive to eat round the clock -- I gained enough weight anyway.

The event that shows you precisely what kind of crowd you've got on board is the mandatory safety drill. Everybody's classy when they're strolling from the bar to the hot tub and back again, but when you cram everyone in a room with their life vests for a half-hour and tell them what to do if the ship splits in two in the belly of a fjord, patience is a rarer virtue to see. No safety scares during our week, though; the closest I came to my life vest again was considering bringing it to the hot tub and ordering some drinks.

Still being on Eastern time, we crashed pretty early Sunday night, hoping fervently that the prediction of eight consecutive rainy days wouldn't hold. It had been clear skies in Seattle on Sunday...

MONDAY JUNE 4: ... but on Monday, as we puttered north toward Ketchikan, it was a drizzlefest, and Holly was nauseous to boot. The water was choppy and the bargain of an interior cabin suddenly looked like a disastrous choice. We took a few steps to minimize the effect:
-getting the hell out of the room, carrying a bag with enough stuff for several activities through early evening
-drinking tea on deck loungers
-sitting in the hot tub in the rain! Frankly, this was a brilliant call.

The boat behaved better the rest of the week, thank goodness, and though its motion was certainly perceptible at certain times, I don't think we ever again thought, "We have to get out of here."

The evening was a formal affair: suit for me, dress for her, posing for portraits we didn't intend to buy, eating a four-course dinner. But dinner featured an excellent and spontaneous intermission of informality. Huge whales were spotted leaping out of the water on the starboard side, and well-dressed passengers swarmed to the dining room's windows in unsettling numbers. I was one of them, and I spied an ugly beast breaching/breeching, then wondered if he/she felt any excitement at leaping from the water. Probably not.

After dinner was a stage show, seemingly a 483-song medley of Billy Joel, Elton John and Barry Manilow. My review: Not as good or as bad as anybody might think, if that makes any sense. No? Pssh. Moving on.

TUESDAY JUNE 5: You can picture Alaska, right? Basically a blob with two arms sticking down from it, one to the southwest and one to the southeast, pointing toward the lower 48. All three Alaskan places we visited are on the southeast arm. Ketchikan was closest to Seattle, then we kept going north to Juneau, then to Skagway before turning around. Just wanted to set the scene.

Tuesday was Ketchikan day. A marvelous stroke of luck: No rain! And it's the third rainiest place on Earth, next to Seattle and any place I camped as a kid, I assume. There was some shopping and cruise-ship trivia, but I'll stick to describing the forest-canopy zip line, probably the coolest part of the trip.

First of all, I'm brutal with heights. Not the worst you've ever dealt with, but if I'm in a high, precarious place, any small talk you make with me is going in one ear and out the other, and I'm not responsible for what I say to you because it is most likely remedial gibberish.

Ziplining took place in a forest. One tree was connected to a second one by a cable 100 to 150 feet above the ground. The second connected to a third in the same fashion and so forth for about 10 trees, each of which also had a small ledge to stand on in between zipping. I won't explain the equipment in much detail because I'll screw it up, but suffice it to say you have enough clips and pulleys attached to you that if you somehow fell, one of those things would be bound to snag on a branch before you crashed to the ground.

So your guide attaches your pulley wheels to the cable at one tree, then pushes you toward the next tree. The most significant zip line was about 120 feet above the ground, was 700 feet long and provided for speeds above 30 mph. I know that if you've skydived this is nothing, but I haven't, so imagine lying on your back tucked in a cannonball and sliding through the air between trees. I'm being completely honest when I say that for some reason, I wasn't scared, or even unnerved a little. It was just awesome.

More honesty: what scared me was the ledges on the trees, which is stupid because we were tethered to the trees the whole time in between zips, but I still didn't want to slip off the ledge and dangle from a tree. That would suck.

Check tomorrow for Wednesday, Thursday and Friday...

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

I'm back

Got arrested in Alaska for not having a beard, but a caribou bailed me out. More later.

Thursday, May 31, 2007

Vacation!

Flight Friday, friends' wedding Saturday, flight to Seattle and cruise to Juneau Sunday. Back in two Wednesdays. Later!

Thursday, May 24, 2007

What a disastrous day, start to finish

I couldn't get a thing done at work because there's virtually nothing to be done in this no-news period before Memorial Day.

Brett Myers, the Phillies closer and second-best pitcher overall, got hurt throwing a pitch he shouldn't even have had to throw because the game should already have been over except that Rod Barajas is an idiot.

And then, of course, Lost. In case anybody who plans to see the finale has yet to do so, I'll put my thoughts in the first comment on this post. Read the comments when you're ready.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Faux toes

Here. They're from all over the past three years or so.

Double whammy

I slept atrociously last night and was draggin' ass all day. However, because it was so nice outside, I also really wanted to be out running or golfing instead of at work. Those two powerful factors made it nearly impossible for me to write today -- let's just say I won't be clipping tomorrow's articles.

Sunday, May 13, 2007

Warning: golf post

After shooting a 106 at the Sand Barrens course at the shore last weekend, today I shot 105 at Iroquois, a few miles south of downtown Louisville. (My personal best is 95, accomplished twice. The first time, in high school, I opened with a 40, for crying out loud, and I was so overwhelmed that I happily shanked all over the back nine, lacking the discipline to take the course by the throat.)

These past two rounds are my first played with my "new old" clubs, inherited from my father, who just upgraded. My new clubs are superior to my old ones in several ways: 1) They are closer to 10 years old than 50; 2) They're the correct length for my height, whereas the old ones were a couple of inches too short; and 3) The grips are much grippier -- not surprising, given the difference in ages.

All my possible golfing partners in Louisville were either studying or out of town today, so I went as a single, played through a group or two until I latched on with a family of three. My pacing was a little hurried all day -- I was either playing through people or playing with people riding in carts, whereas I was walking. It was good exercise, but the poor pacing cost me a few well-struck shots, I think.

As for each specific phase of the game:
-Driving. Except for one gorgeous moon shot -- a slight draw that went 275 yards -- I was horrible with the big stick today, topping more than a few balls and hitting one or two wicked hooks. I was inconsistent in my address, feeling each time as if I was a little closer or further from the ball, and had placed it a little left or right, from what I'd done on the previous tee. It's a new driver with a head nearly twice the size of its predecessor's, so I'm still getting used to teeing the ball higher. It may simply have been a case of subconscious hurrying, the problem behind the majority of my golf screwups. Hopefully, a couple of range buckets should help me find a routine I can stick to.
-Irons. So-so. Again, inconsistent address, which led to comically bad aim on a few shots where I thought I'd taken dead aim. But more so than in the past with my old clubs, I felt lots of clean contact from my irons, even on less than desirable lies.
-Chipping. Surprisingly good. I took a tip from Dad and made it a point to emphasize relaxing my forearms, and except for a frozen-arm stab job on the final hole, my wedge play was my best I can remember.
-Putting. Slightly above average. I holed a 20-footer for par and I read the breaks well. In the last five or six holes, I was getting tired and (I think) becoming lazier with my aim and reading. I took 37 putts on the day, just above an average of two per hole, so that wasn't my undoing.

I really could have benefited from a range session before my round, and since I had no tee time and no real time constraints, I don't know why I didn't do that. As it was, I opened 8-8 on two par 4's, then closed 6-7-6 on a 4, 4 and 3. In between, I was pretty good, though I still killed myself with the driver.

I plan to squeeze in a few more rounds between now and the Alaska trip. Dad shoots consistently in the mid-80s to low-90s, and I'd like to compete with him on a regular basis.

Wednesday, May 9, 2007

NOOOOOO!

If you saw Lost tonight, you know what I'm talking about. Otherwise, let's move on to other topics.
-If it weren't for sand traps, I'd have really done well golfing at, um, Sand Barrens last weekend. I inherited Dad's clubs after he purchased a new set, meaning I no longer have to play with irons forged by a blacksmith in the time of cholera.
-In response to Lone Star Pickle, here's another photo of a clearly exuberant -- not traumatized -- baby:

-I gritted my teeth and sank some money into a new clutch and engine mounts for my 1997 Nissan Altima. I'm really in that gray area, whether to go all-out to make the car driveable for several more years or to keep it cheap and sputtering.
-It's in the mid-80s all week here, and the running is really going to start to pay off around my waist soon. I'm not going to be a lunatic and say that I'm fat or anything. It's nothing drastic, I just don't fit in my pants, and I would prefer to do so. Elastic waistbands are not a good look in an office.
-Belated congratulations to Jill and Glenn, proud new parents of Gavin! Good lookin' kid, and now I have another friend (Joel) to join me in uncledom.
-Less belated congratulations to my cousin Glen and his beautiful bride Jessica. And thanks for doing the party boat/golf outing/cheesesteak lunch/beach town weekend combo... tough to beat.

Tuesday, May 8, 2007

Hollea!

Monday, April 23, 2007

My widget

Who took my attention-deficit ointment?

Moxie will not stop meowing. She sleeps nearly the entire day and then scampers around meowing for a few fleeting, baffling moments.

It's really humid here, but in a nice way.

I have daydreams where the Phillies recruit me as a pinch-runner, then I'm forced into fielding and hitting in a 20-inning game and I display just enough raw talent to start the next day, then I hit safely in 64 consecutive games and earn an eight-figure contract and hit an inside-the-park home run in the World Series.

A guy at the gym today smelled so bad (he was wearing one of those plastic track suits that make you sweat much more than you otherwise would, for weight loss purposes) that at first I honestly, truly thought someone had peed on the floor.

The streak is at three, and the Phillies are showing signs of offensive life.

I remembered something today when I was talking to the new guy at work: Once when Joel and I blew off work to go to Atlantic City, I called in sick to the wrong office. My friend at my old job answered, and once he figured out it was me, he of course told me he didn't give a crap what excuse I was making up because I didn't work there anymore.

Holly made tree-mendous fajitas tonight.

Sunday, April 22, 2007

It's a streak!

For the first time this season, the Phillies have won back-to-back games. What's more, Chase Utley had two doubles and Ryan Howard hit a mile-high home run to straightaway center field. Cool.

Saturday, April 21, 2007

Day of Thunder

It's the day of Thunder over Louisville, a big citywide party (followed by big-time fireworks) to kick off Derby time. The weather's immaculate, we're barbecuing and playing bocce later, and I figure it's time for an update on something other than a disappointing baseball team.

My job's going well, and on Monday our two months without an education reporter come to an end, so that'll take a bit of the load off. One co-worker is planning a wedding, another's due to give birth around Independence Day and my boss is getting virtually no sleep after adopting a newborn a few weeks ago. As for me, March through June is all about driving and flying around to Abingdon, Exton, Stone Harbor, several points in Maryland, then Seattle to cruise to Juneau and back. Four weddings, a move and a vacation. So I'm leaving town on many weekends, which is a little distracting, but as I pointed out, distraction is pretty much an officewide phenomenon these days.

Holly is essentially done with classes for med school year No. 2 and is studying full-time for a gargantuan test called Step 1 that happens June 1. It's the 800-page elephant in the room at all the med school parties I've been to recently. Holly's also girding to next month be a bridesmaid for one of her best friends. In June, she gets to practice The Smiling Eye-Roll as we take zip lines across the Alaskan tree tops and I scream and curse in terror.

Mojo and Moxie are about 15 months old, still smaller than I'd expect the average cat of that age to be. They still have plenty of energy, channeled through Bungee Door Mouse and the Cubes, but they also of course sleep many, many hours a day. Mojo has 100 percent black long hair; Moxie's a tabby but still has a tail fluffier than a squirrel's.

I went many months without a reasonable amount of running or exercise, but I've corrected that in the last two weeks, running all but two or three days. I'd like to get back into shape enough to run the half or full marathon in Philly Nov. 18.

I'm inheriting the first set of golf clubs that will actually be long enough for me when my dad's new ones arrive in a few weeks. Whether we can make the transaction in time for the golf outing at my cousin's wedding in Stone Harbor May 5 remains to be seen. I've made a few friends in Louisville who either golf or have resolved to start, so I look forward to some weekend outings.

Haven't seen the inside of a casino since the first week in January. I'll probably hop over there about once a month after we get back from Alaska, I just haven't had the time or inclination recently. Another year goes by without me qualifying for the WSOP. Someday...

Finally, my niece Lea is five months old today:


She's getting insanely big, in my opinion, and rolling herself over nonstop, my sister says.

How's that for an update? That oughta hold the little bastards.

Much obliged, Flash

By throwing a needless meatball to Scott Hatteberg and blowing the game, you've opened the door to making Brett Myers the closer. And let's face it, if you're going to do something drastic like putting your best or 2nd-best starter in the bullpen, it might as well be to make him the closer.

Personally, I think the whole thing is ridiculous. Robbing the rotation to pay the bullpen makes no sense, even to stick Lieber in the rotation to bolster his trade value. Teams aren't going to trade for Baby Huey on the basis of one or two starts, and even by the time the Phillies are able to ship him off, what exactly are they looking for? If it's another reliever, they won't get much of one in return for Lieber.

I didn't see any compelling reason not to run Myers out for a second inning last night. He's about 10 times more confident in his stuff than Gordon is right now. And oh yeah, until recently, HE PITCHED SEVEN OR EIGHT INNINGS AT A TIME. You've got a 1-0 lead and a shaky closer, why does that guy automatically have the privilege to take it over? If today's game turns out to be a save situation, it's in Myers' hands, which is where it should have stayed last night, leaving Gordon available today. Garrrrr. Cole Hamels, no pressure, man!

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

No theme, no ideas, no problem

To readers of Bluegrass Beginnings and Chyan Utlard, welcome. This blog is going to be a catch-all. Most likely items include:
  • Photos, news and ramblings about my baby niece
  • Louisville-related tidbits you Easterners, etc., might find interesting
  • Bellyaching about the Phillies
  • Random citation of things that have made me laugh in 27 years
  • Progress reports on my attempt to revert to acceptable running shape
  • Links to more widely read blogs in my circle
Later!