I Should Be Fine, Right?

-Have you ever gotten a parking spot that is so good, you almost don't believe that it's legal? This afternoon I went to go see the new movie, The Town (full review coming tomorrow) and when I pulled up onto the second floor of the parking garage and there, wide-open, was the very first spot next to the walkway which leads directly across and into the theatres. You know, the one next to the handicap spots. This was quite literally the closest I could legally park in relation to my destination. However, I had a momentary pause because I never quite know what to think when that spot is open. In the back of my mind I assume that it's just another handicap spot that someone has unfortunately mis-marked. I would hate to come out of an enjoyable film only to discover my car either ticketed or towed, because it would ruin the entire movie experience for me. Also, my legs are working just fine and therefore I really don't need to park that close. I'm sure there is someone just on the cusp of needing a handicapped spot that would make much better use of it then me. I usually have this nagging feeling of guilt that tells me I should find another spot, just slightly farther away. Of course, this feeling goes away after .01 seconds and I pull right in. After all, who am I to argue with the parking gods?

-So, here's one from the "I Told You So" files: during Dallas Cowboys' Training Camp, rookie wide receiver Dez Bryant caused a mini-stir by refusing to take place in the time-honored hazing tradition of carrying a veteran's pads after practice. Bryant refused to carry Roy Williams' pads, contending he was here to play football and not be a pack mule. Now, at the time I advised Bryant to just carry the pads and move on with his life. As hazing went he was getting off pretty light. However, Bryant escaped training camp without any more serious hazing and appeared to have won this stand-off. But then earlier this week Roy Williams decided the rookie should take a few teammates out to dinner at a Dallas steak house. At first it was just supposed to be the offense, but Williams invited a few more teammates, then a few more, until the entire team was going. And, due to his earlier refusal to play along with rookie hazing, the Cowboys decided to eat well on Bryant's dime. Essentially the entire menu was ordered, along with several bottles of wine. Apparently many were ordered and then not even opened, but instead taken home at twice the price. At the end of the night the bill ended up being just short of $55,000 (without tip). Now Bryant was a high first-round draft pick, so he can definitely afford it. You just have to wonder if he has re- thought his stance that he is too good to be hazed and whether it was worth it.

-Yesterday it was announced that Tour de France winner Alberto Contador failed a drug test during his Tour-winning ride earlier this year. While that in and of itself is not news, because most of these riders fail a test at some point in their careers, what I always enjoy after an athlete fails a drug test is the attempt to come up with an excuse. In Contador's case, he claimed that he ate some contaminated meat. You know, because meat is often contaminated with muscle-building medication that improves lung function, which sure would come in handy if you were, oh, I don't know, pedalling through the mountains for weeks at a time. This comes on the heels of several other athletes failing because they also ate beef that was given illegal drugs. Seriously, why is it that if you or I ate some contaminated beef it would never be with positive results (we would be lying in a hospital somewhere puking up everything we've ever eaten in the past decade), but these athletes only ever seem to eat food that has been contaminated with drugs that are performance-enhancing? What a coincidence. If I was in charge of security for the race what I would do is start guarding the food trucks closer, because clearly that is where the big lapse in security is.

Maybe Their Fans Just Suck

On Monday night the Tampa Bay Rays had a chance to clinch a playoff spot at home against the Baltimore Orioles. Well, they didn't win, but it didn't really matter because no one was there to see it. The announced attendance for the game was just over 12,000 fans, which means in reality there were closer to 10,000 people in the stadium. One of the Rays' pitchers, David Price, took to Twitter (as you do) to complain about it, calling all the empty seats for a contending team about to secure a playoff spot 'embarrassing.' I have no problem with him calling out his fans, either. Having been in Gillette for Revolution games which featured 12,000 people in a 67,000 seat stadium, I have felt the lack of juice in the place. Huge stadiums with minimal crowds are downright depressing. I don't care how loud 10,000 people are, they cannot pick up the slack for all the people who didn't show. Now, Price quickly backed off that stance and apologized if he had offended anyone, while the Rays announced that they would give away 20,000 free tickets for tonight's game. Here are my questions: A. What did the guy have to apologize for? and B. Why are you rewarding a bad fanbase with free seats? Doesn't it set a really bad precedent when all people have to do is not show up for an entire season and then they don't even have to pay for tickets to the bandwagon?

Personally, I think it is time that we all accept the reality of the situation: Tampa Bay isn't a great sports town. They don't sell out for the Buccaneers or the Lighting and the Rays play in a half-empty stadium almost every night. You can forgive not wanting to sit in 90 degree heat and 100% humidity to watch a rebuilding Bucs team, just like no one expects Florida to be a hockey hotbed. But the Rays have been good for a few seasons now; the mentality that this is a one-year fluke not worthy of long-term support went by the wayside a long time ago. Still, if the Rays didn't host 10 games a season against the Yankees and Red Sox then they might not sell out a game all year. And it's too bad, because this team is everything a group of fans could want: they have good, young talent, a smart manager and a front office that clearly knows how to draft talent. If fans aren't coming out to support the team now then they never will. And I don't want to hear the excuse that the economy is hitting that area particularly hard, because times are tough everywhere and other teams don't have the problems drawing fans in. Pittsburgh, a team that hasn't been a playoff contender for 20 years, is nipping at the heels of Rays for attendance. There is talk that the Rays may have to be dismantled after this season because they can't afford to keep all this talent together and the fans aren't showing up as a way of protest. Well, do you know how teams make money and have bigger payrolls? By fans showing up and paying for tickets, not ignoring them all year and only appearing when the seats are free.

Now, I'm not going to suggest moving the franchise, because I would never do that to any fanbase, no matter how small the group of diehards are. But, instead I just want us all to agree to stop trying to come up with reasons as to why the fans aren't coming and accept the fact that Tampa isn't going to ever embrace this team. They can bring up the flimsy argument that there being too many transplanted fans of other teams in the area, but the same holds true in Arizona and the Diamondbacks do just fine drawing a crowd. And the Tampa fans can complain about how horrible their stadium is, but why should ownership build a shiny new field when no one is going to fill it? Basically, I just want all this fresh on your minds when the Rays host a playoff game in a couple weeks and fans magically appear with their stupid cowbells. Also, because I don't think it's right to show up so late without some kind of penalty, I would appreciate it if TBS could include a graphic along the bottom of any crowd shot in which the stands are full that reads, "None of these people went to a game all season. They only show up for the playoffs and don't let them tell you any differently."

Where Should I Be Looking?

Yesterday I mentioned that my truck recently went over 100,000 miles. What I neglected to mention is that shortly before reaching this milestone my "Check Engine" light came on. I hate the "Check Engine" light, even if it isn't on in my car. This is because no matter the brand, year or model of the vehicle, the "Check Engine" light is pretty much universally useless. I have been a passenger in cars that are in the midst of major internal problems without the "Check Engine" light so much as flickering. I mean, my last truck was pretty much dead before the "Check Engine" light ever made its first appearance. Also, I hate how vague it is. An engine is a complicated piece of machinery - at the very least give me an area to check. You mean to tell me that for all the advances that have been made in automobiles over the last twenty years, there is no way we could come up with a more specific warning light? How about a "Check Plugs" light if it's time to change the spark plugs? In fact, I don't even need it to be that specific, but at least point me in a direction. Plus, you never know what you should expect from the simple, yellow "Check Engine" light. It could be that you just need to replace a fuse... or the entire engine could be shot. We need some type of color-coded system to tell me just how quickly I should get around to checking my engine.

Now, there is a chance that this light came on simply because I was approaching a large, round number and the on-board diagnostic system wants me to do some regularly scheduled maintenance. (I'm told that this can happen with cars, where the on-board computer requests the driver check everything over simply because of the odometer hitting a certain mileage and not because there is anything wrong with the car. However, this probably only happens in cars that have been made in the last five years and have really advanced internal computers, neither of which applies to my truck.) But, hoping that this was the case and pretending I knew what I was doing, I opened the hood and checked all the fluid levels, which all seem fine. After that I was pretty much out of ideas. Still trying to convince myself that this was simply a matter of the truck's electronics perking up, I opened up the owner's manual and checked for other reasons the "Check Engine" light could possibly come on. (Or, if they couldn't tell me how to fix what was wrong, at least tell me how to turn the light off.) Here's where I began to lose faith in the writers in charge of the Mercury Mountaineer's owner's manual.

The first reason they gave was that the vehicle could be out of fuel. Now, I've said repeatedly that I am not a 'car guy' but even I know when my car is out of gas. I don't know of a person alive who would need to go to the owner's manual to see that the gas gauge is below E. Not to mention, the gas gauge has its own special light that comes on when the fuel level gets too low - a passive-aggressive little red message that says 'Check Gage.' The next reason the "Check Engine" light may be on according to the book is that the gas cap could be loose. Now, I do not know where your gas cap is located, but as I do not put gas directly into the engine, mine is nowhere near there. In fact, it couldn't be much further away and still be on the same car. By telling me to check the engine when you mean the gas cap, you have effectively sent me in the opposite direction. You would think that the people writing the owner's manual would be aware of something like that. Lastly, they suggest that there could be either water or cheap gas in the tank. Again, not sure how I'm supposed to find out something like that by looking under the hood. Anyway, along with that last possible problem came a recommendation to start putting in better gas and driving the car around for a while, hoping to work the water out of the fuel system. So, I'm going to try that and hope in the mean time the engine doesn't fall out. Though, if it did I'm willing to bet that would be the time the "Check Engine" light would finally turn off.

Oh, Pretty Numbers...

Every now and again I am reminded that, mentally, I am basically still just a giant child. Stupid little things that should never seem very important happen and when they do, rather than simply looking at them, mentally processing their existence and moving on, I instead immediately revert back to giggling at them like an idiot. For example, on Friday morning I was driving down the highway when my truck's odometer went over 100,000 miles. Now, this is at least the third time that I have been behind the wheel of a vehicle when this milestone has occurred and therefore it isn't anything I haven't seen before. In fact, I would contend that two of the other times were even more impressive because in those instances the odometer didn't have enough room for the 1, and as such the dial was simply back at to all zeroes (letting me know what it would feel like to own a brand-new car). So, really, I shouldn't have been that in awe of reaching 100,000 miles. Still, when I saw all those zeroes I was struck with the urge to pull over and take a picture of my odometer for posterity and if I hadn't been in the middle of an on-ramp I may have acted on that urge.

By the afternoon I was over the occasion of hitting 100,000 miles and silently scolding myself for getting so excited about something so silly. First off, it's not like I did anything to contribute. I didn't walk all those mile or anything. Hell, I didn't even put all of them on my truck; there were already 80,000 miles on the car when I bought it. (And, given the shady nature of the place I bought it from, there is a better than 20% chance my truck actually went over 100,000 miles a while ago.) Plus with the way vehicles are put together these days, unless it is involved in an accident every car should be able to easily make it to 100,000 miles, if not 200,000. It is not that big of a deal, is my point. I vowed that this would be the last time I got so excited over something so unbelievably trivial to the grand scheme of things. This vow lasted right up until that very same evening when I stopped to get gas and noticed that my mileage was now exactly 100,100, at which point my brain had the exact same reaction as earlier in the day: "Oh, look it all the zeroes!" Told you - giant child.

-Another recent time when it was abundantly obvious how immature I still am was earlier in the week when I went food shopping. I've always felt that you can learn a lot about a person by the kind of groceries they have in their cart. For example, if they have a ton of health food in there then I know that we are never going to hang out. Anyway, I was shopping strictly for myself and just needed three days worth of stuff to make it through my mini-getaway, so on my list I was buying meal-to-meal, not with any kind of long-term thinking. Also, there was no one else there to check my buying habits. At one point I looked down and surveyed the cart's contents: soda, Gatorade, candy, Apple Jacks cereal and pasta. Not a fruit or vegetable to be found. Now, in my defense I was on somewhat of a vacation and no one eats very healthy on a vacation. But, still you would think that I could shoehorn at least one healthy snack in there somewhere. If only apples came with a prize...

Did I Break Your Concentration?

One of my favorite things about senior citizens is when they reach the age of simply not caring about being polite anymore. Apparently, at some point human beings decide that they are no longer going to bite their tongues if something bothers them and begin to let everyone know how they feel - tact be damned. They are going to let you know what they think of a situation, whether or not you asked their opinion. (The question of course, is how old you need to be to reach this level. Some of us wait until our late 80s, while other of us apparently become senior citizens at the age of 25.)

Anyway, because I like to play golf on weekdays, I spend a lot of time around seniors and as such I'm very used to receiving advice I didn't ask for. A few days ago I was at Little Harbor Country Club in Wareham and it was apparently old folk day on the links (even more than normal). At 30, I was easily the youngest person on the course. In fact, I would go far as to say I was the only person playing who was under the age of 60. Now, for those of you who have never played Little Harbor, the course features two split tees. Numbers four and thirteen go off at the same point, followed by five and fourteen also sharing a tee. It can get confusing if you've never played the course before and want to pay no attention to detail (in reality, it is marked fairly clearly). As I got to number four a pair of ladies were arriving at number thirteen. They stood there for a minute, trying to decipher the puzzle that stood before them of exactly where they were meant to be teeing off from. Because I was waiting for the people ahead of me to finish the hole, I had time to point them in the right direction. One of the ladies then mentioned that the spot looked familiar (and it should have, because they played number four just nine holes earlier). I wonder if they had been going in circles all morning.

After finishing up hole number four, I was on the split tee of number five and fourteen, again waiting for the guy ahead of me to finish up. Once he was out of my range I teed up and was in the middle of my backswing when a voice came piercing through my ears, "You're supposed to be on the far tee!" [Sidebar for the non-golfers out there: you should know that 'not talking when someone is in the middle of their backswing' is a rule even the people with the smallest amount of knowledge concerning golf etiquette usually follow.] Because of this interruption my thoughts were not on what I was doing and my drive pathetically rocket off at a 60 degree angle and into the woods. (Really, I'm bad enough on my own. I do not need distractions on top of that to make me play even worse.) I looked to see where the voice came from and saw the two ladies from the previous hole coming off the green and approaching me. You know, the ones who five minutes earlier were asking me directions, making it abundantly clear they didn't know their way around the place and yet who were now telling me where I should be playing from.

"I'm on the far tee," I respond. It's at this point that the woman who spoke up took a moment to actually look around and see what the situation was.
"Oh. Never mind then," she said.

Now, I couldn't get mad because after all she was just trying to help. Plus, like I said, I appreciate the direct approach. However, I would like to think that no matter how old I get I will never reach the point of speaking out before I take a second to see what is going on. Also, in case you were wondering, given the distraction I re-teed and didn't give myself the penalty stroke.

Twitter Catch-Up

*Catching up on some random thoughts that I couldn't get to without Internet access.

-I was in line at the McDonald's drive-thru and because the speakers there are cranked up to 11, I could hear everyone order before me. The main thing that struck me was the way that the poor girl working the window had to begin every order with, "Welcome to McDonald's. Would you like to try a Iced Mocha McCafe?" None of the six cars ahead of me wanted one and neither did I. So, here's my question: how many times out of a hundred do you think people say no? It's got to be like 98 or 99. I half wanted to say yes, just to throw the girl off, because I bet it happens to rarely she has no idea what to do when someone accepts.

-Last week I was just hanging out when I remembered that I needed to make a quick trip to Wal-Mart. However, at that moment I was wearing my normal lounging clothes of a tee-shirt and basketball shorts. I was about to change back into my jeans when I realised a key thing: I was going to Wal-Mart. My shirt had sleeves, which probably meant I would be the best-dressed guy in the store.

-It is becoming increasingly apparent that how much I enjoy a beverage is directly related to the quality of the container I am drinking out of at that moment. Also, my definition of what should allow a mug to be qualified as 'jumbo' is apparently quite different from most mug makers.

-The other day I went to a golf course and asked about playing a quick nine holes. The guy behind the counter asked me if I had a tee time. At this point I looked at the eight cars in the parking lot and thought about the fact that I couldn't see a single group on any of the first four holes that were visible from where I drove in. Honestly, did it matter that I didn't have a tee time?

Helmet-Gate

On Sunday night, Giants running back Brandon Jacobs got annoyed at being pulled during a game in Indianapolis and flung his helmet down in frustration. (As a fantasy owner of Jacobs who lost by one point last weekend, let me just say I shared in his frustration). However, during this temper-tantrum his fingers became tangled in the facemask and held on. As a result the helmet didn't release when he expected it to, ended up going upwards instead of down and landed six rows into the stands. Within a couple seconds personnel from the stadium were swarming the guy who caught the helmet, asking for it back. The guy refused. Soon after that a couple members of the Giants staff arrived and bartered with the guy, who was holding firmly onto the helmet while those staff members tried to pull it out of his hands without being obvious about it. Eventually he relented and gave the Giants back the helmet, receiving an official game-used ball in exchange for his troubles. In a interview with a local radio station a couple days later the guy implied that the NFL officials essentially gave him an ultimatum: give us the helmet and take the ball or we're tossing you from the game and taking the helmet anyway.

While that seems harsh, this guy actually made out fairly well. The common practice in NFL stadiums is that if anything goes from the field into the stands fans are expected to just return it out of courtesy and don't get anything in exchange. Whenever a quarterback puts a little too much juice on the ball or an extra point misses the net behind the goal posts and end up in the seats most fans see this as an opportunity to show off their arm and fire it back down to the field as if this could earn them a tryout. So, given the unwritten fan rules about this kind of occurrence, you could argue that the guy holding onto the helmet was just being difficult. However, he brought up the great point that if he had thrown something this size from his seats to the Giants' bench he would have been immediately thrown out of the stadium and lost his season tickets. Also, he pointed out that this wasn't a football, this was a helmet that could have caused some damage had people not seen it coming, so he figured that changed the circumstances. [Sidebar: the circumstances also could have been changed because an authentic game-used helmet is a lot more valuable than a game-used football, but we'll give this guy the benefit of the doubt.]

You know, for all the good things that the NFL does with it's fan relations, this is one thing that I have never understood. I don't see what is the big deal about allowing a fan to keep the football, or in this case the helmet. I feel as though if something ends up in the stands then you lose the right to demand it back. Players routinely give away the football after scoring a touchdown, so what makes that ball different from one uses on any other play during the game? After all, baseball has embraced the tradition of going after foul balls and makes getting one part of the game experience. Even the NHL will let you keep a puck that ends up in the seats and those guys need to keep costs down as much as possible. I get that the official NFL footballs cost more than an MLB baseball or a puck, but a football ending up in the stands happens so rarely that you would think they would let it slide when it did happen. And in this specific case I feel that if Jacobs is going to be that careless with his equipment then he should be the one who should be concerned with trying to get it back, not some members of stadium security who would be holding just as tightly to the helmet were the roles reversed. Demanding the ball back 'or else' just seems extremely petty of a major sports league. They say you can't put a price on good publicity, but the NFL seems to like to buy bad publicity one confiscated football at a time.

Advice Time Limit

The other day I mentioned to a friend of mine that at some point soon I wanted to take a golf trip down to Florida. "Oh," he said, "you have to try this course I played last time I was down there. Great price, good layout. Really a fun course." Intrigued, I tried to look up the place he recommended. After not finding a website for the place, or even a review for it on another website (which should have been the first red flag) I asked my friend if he could remember the general location of the course so I could Google Earth it. After getting a basic idea of where I should be looking, I started searching the area he remembered. No golf courses to be found. (And this is Florida, so that's actually hard to pull off.) Then, after a little more Googling, I found out why: first off, my friend gives terrible directions. I was looking in an entirely wrong section of Florida. Secondly, the course isn't there anymore - it's been turned into a row of condos. In fact, the course hasn't been there for years. The condos went up roughly five years ago. So, I asked my friend when was the last time he played this place and after a minute to think it over, he recalled that it must have been a decade or so.

Now, had they just finished construction, I would have simply shrugged my shoulders and moved on. After all, this is not the first time that I have been given advice that has passed its expiration date. On more than one occasion I have been advised to try a restaurant, only to discover that the restaurant is now a dry cleaners or some other such business. In this time of constant business turn-over, that can happen to the best of us. However, my friend hadn't been there in a decade. Yet, he appeared to honestly think that nothing would have changed during all that time, which is almost impossible. Because of this I want to institute a statute of limitations on recommendations. If you have not been to a place in over five years, then you should no longer be allowed to tell other people they should go there. This isn't just a good idea because the place could have closed or moved locations; even if it is still there, you have no way of knowing if it has changed owners or head chefs. What if your telling someone that they should try the steak, only to discover the new guy's specialty is sushi? [Sidebar: I am willing to extend the recommendation if you have at least sent someone else there within a calendar year and they have reported back that the place is still standing and nothing has changed.]

This statute of limitations shouldn't just be applied to restaurants or vacation destinations. Through the years of trial and error, we as a society have come up with many new methods to replace what people used to feel were the tried and true methods of doing certain activities. That's why I feel if you haven't been involved in something for a number of years then you shouldn't try to tell the people currently trying to do that activity how they should be proceeding. Think about it like this: I haven't worked at Gillette Stadium for two (glorious, glorious) years. When I left they hadn't even finished construction on Patriot Place. Therefore, I'm certainly not about to tell you where you should try to park when you go to a game. For all I know the media lot (which was always the lot you wanted to sneak into) could be in a completely different location. I wouldn't want my bad advice to lead you to parking in the most remote lot while paying twice as much as everyone else. You'd be (rightfully) pissed if that happened. I know that it can be hard to admit when we don't have an answer to a person's question, but I would rather tell someone I hadn't been to a place in years than have them drive out of their way, only to find the steakhouse is now a bank.

So That's... Old

One of the great things about living in New England is that we really appreciate our history around here. I'm not just talking about Faneuil Hall or the USS Constitution. Go to almost any town in the area and you will find a building with a plaque out in front telling you the year it was built and the significant event that took place there. It is a great way to remember that some huge events happened in this area. However, there are other times when you can tell the people making the decision for the historical committee were flying a little fast and loose with the permits to designate a building as an historic landmark on that particular day. There is a house that I pass all the time which has a plaque from the historical society in front of it, but the plaque has faded to the point you can't read it from the street. So the other day, after driving passed it for the thousandth time, I came home and decided to satisfy my curiosity and find out just what the hell made this house so special. I looked it up online and do you know what made this house really significant, to the point it had to be preserved from all the other new developments going up around it? It was old. That's it.

I can't begin to tell you how disappointing this revelation was. After driving by this house for years I had concocted a very intricate story about the home and its previous owners. I mean, it is not much to look at, so I figured that if there were people who thought it was important enough to save it had to be very important in the Nation's history. In my mind it was a rally point for the earliest American soldiers, the place Paul Revere switched horses and George Washington's summer home. Instead I learned it was built in 1688... and that's it. That's the list. So, we are keeping this kind of dilapidated, shed-sized structure up on a piece of land that would probably be worth a few hundred thousand dollars, simply because it is old. C'mon, people, just because something was built a long time ago that doesn't make it important, it just makes it old. It is possible for something to be one without being the other. In fact, after thinking it over, I've come up with a few rules to determine whether or not a structure is worth preserving.

1. It has to be old. Ok, I agree with it having to be a few hundred years old. In fact, as long as it meets this requirement and any one of the next three I'm cool with the landmark distinction. (This is the point where my International readers snicker at my low bar. I know, I know, the additions on your historical landmarks are a couple hundred years old.)

2. It is somehow connected to an important person. Seriously, I'm not even going to tell you what qualifies as a connection. I'll leave that to be determined on a case-by-case basis. They could have lived there as a child or they could have stayed one night in their life. The key is how important the person is: if you ask 10 people with history degrees if they can recognize the name without doing any research and fewer than four of them do, then that place is toast.

3. It is somehow connected to an important event. Again, I'm not even going to tell you how connected the building has to be. I'm not even going to tell you how important the event has to be, because what I find important someone else might find stupid and vice-versa, so I'm not about to pick on someone else's beliefs. But something has to have happened there that more than 25 people give a crap about, otherwise you're just taking up valuable real estate.

4. It is featured in a novel or movie. It doesn't even have to be a good movie or novel. If your building is in the background of some crappy film that no one else saw, I still say you can find to keep it upright. Hell, the structure is still more famous than me. But, if that building's scene has somehow reached the cutting room floor, so have your hopes of it being a landmark.

Another Musical Interlude

They always say you should never meet your heroes, because they are going to disappoint you. In this regard, it was probably better back when the only thing you knew about actors and musicians was what you heard them sing on the radio or saw in the theatres. In today's TMZ world, celebrities can't be shielded by publicists at all times and so if you are a jerk, the public is going to learn about it sooner rather than later.

Anyway, I bring this up because right now I'm going through an Oasis kick musically. And, because I have seen so many interviews with the band, I wrestle with the fact that Oasis is one of my favorite musical groups. One the one hand I thoroughly enjoy their music, but on the other I really want to punch the Gallagher brothers in the face. Whether it's the way they disrespected their fans by showing up to shows drunk or not at all, or how they insulted our collective intelligence when they tried to tell us they were never influenced by The Beatles (everyone is influenced by The Beatles), they just seem like brilliant musicians who are also really horrible people to be around.

Still, I love this song.

Some More Football Quick Hits

-Texas Tech asked it's students to be quiet when the visiting Texas Longhorns had the ball, because they wanted to see what would happen if Texas had to work in a completely silent stadium. The thinking was that the Longhorns wouldn't concentrate as hard because they didn't have to think about blocking out noise. Considering the Longhorns shot out to a 14-point lead before the first quarter was even over, I would put that experiment in the 'fail' category.

-I was watching the UMass/Michigan game and I could not get over how annoying the announcers were being. UMass was hanging around late in the game and went for a two-point conversion after a touchdown. Had they gotten it they would have only been down 10. Instead they missed and were down 12. The announcer for the Big Ten network kept going over how had they simply kicked the extra point it would have been an 11 point game and thus they would have been a touchdown, two-point conversion and field goal away from tying the game. "Now," he said, "It's a three-score game. They need a touchdown and two field-goals." Only, no, they didn't. Two touchdowns and UMass has the lead. Now, because I went to school for this exact kind of thing so I happen to know you don't need to be a math major to call college football. But, you do at least need to be able to do football math and this guy couldn't.

-As devastating as it was for Notre Dame to lose in overtime on a fake field-goal attempt, I frankly can't even get all that upset about it. (And to those Domers who want to point out that the play clock was at zero, everyone knows the refs left that go for another second before they throw the flag. Let it go - we're better than that.) The guts it took for Michigan State head coach Mark Dantonio to even call that play makes it inspirational. In the words of Ron Burgundy, "Actually, I'm not even mad; that's amazing." However, it should be noted that Dantonio had a minor heart attack later in the evening, proving it is never wise to pull that kind of stuff against God's favorite college football team.

-It's amusing to me to watch everyone jump back on the Jets' bandwagon after yesterday's thumping of the Patriots. Hey, I'll admit it - they were the better team yesterday. But, there is also something to be said for playing against team when they are desperate. I think deep down the Jets know they were an 8-8 football team last year who only made the playoffs because other teams rested their starters down the stretch. Therefore they realised they couldn't start 0-2 and be two games behind in the division race before the season ever really got going. Yesterday was as close to a must-win for them as you're going to find in September football. I'm still not convince that Sanchez is a Super Bowl-caliber quarterback.

-The Sunday night football game of the week was Giants/Colts, which meant Peyton and Eli Manning were playing each other for the second time in their careers. NBC made a big point of saying that it was the "Manning Bowl II", as if the defenses weren't even playing. The broadcast kept showing the family luxury box and talking about the family's football legacy, but to those of us with Internet access it was just a reminder that through his sons' success Archie Manning has somehow managed to get morphed from a mediocre quarterback with 50 more interceptions than touchdowns who never won more than 8 games in a season, to the borderline Hall of Famer who was simply trapped on bad teams. It's amazing what time and successful offspring can do to people's memories.

Getting The Hard Part Out Of The Way

Despite not having any children of my own, I'm getting quite proficient at assembling children's toys. Over the weekend my father and I put up a new swing-set for my nieces. It is actually a fairly fancy model with space for five swings, a see-saw on one end and a slide on the other. Now, despite all of those attachments, it went together rather nicely. Ironically, the hardest step was the first one, in which the center posts had to be attached to the crossbar. This also doubles as the most important step because if the center post fails the whole swing-set could collapse, so no pressure or anything. It took us a while before we finally got it. (It was an issue of trying to guess the outward angle of those posts, which is a lot narrower than you would assume.) But after that we flew through the rest of the construction and we were done in a short few hours. Anyway, assembling this thing got me to thinking about how much I appreciate any construction project in which the first step is the hardest.

You see, when you first start any home improvement project you are full of gusto and spirit, because you are getting to this thing you said you would start two weeks ago. It is this pride and energy at finally getting started which motivates you to keep working even though you forgot to charge the drill overnight and it has now taken fifteen tries to get the screw through to the other side of the piping and to the point that you can catch the end with the nut. No, you said you were going to complete this project today and at that moment you're motivated to finish it today if it kills you. However if this type of continued failure was occurring on the sixth step, which you didn't get to until you were two and a half hours into the process, then you would clearly need to take a break before you shatter this stupid thing and throw it out the window out of frustration. At this point the momentum is lost and your 15 minute break leads to the project being abandoned for the day because during your break you discovered there was an all-day NCIS marathon on USA and you start to bargain with yourself because ok, maybe you didn't finish, but at least you started and that's better than nothing. But if after that first step you start breezing through the rest of them, then you can stay motivated and tell yourself you have to finish. Because, even if it is taking longer than anticipated, if you find yourself on step 10 of 15 step directions who the hell stops at that point?

It is because of that I wish all projects would come with a warning label about which step in the directions will be the hardest. Wouldn't you feel better if you read a box on the front page of the booklet that said something along the lines of: "Step 4 is a real pain. Perhaps now is a good time for you to mentally prepare for the fact it will take you 20 tries to get it right." Not only will you feel better with the knowledge that everyone has a problem at this point of construction and also get a huge ego boost if you complete the step in less than 20 attempts, but you will also be comforted in the fact that after this point it should be smooth sailing. I do want to say, no matter how hard a project is to complete, it is all worth it when you see the look on one of your niece's face after she sits on the swing for the first time, half swings herself back and forth for fifteen seconds, then looks up at you and says, "Yeah, I think I'm all done now."

Who's Coming With Me?

For the first time in my life, I want to go to a political rally. Normally, unless I'm related to the person running, I'm not very interested in politics. However, when the rally is for those people who exist in the grey area between the two-party system and who also might be passionate about a few political issues, but not to the point of being up in anyone else's face about it, well, then you should color me interested. So, I actually want to go to Jon Stewart's "Rally to Restore Sanity." Also, because it is a rally for people who are too busy with the actual goings on in life, I don't think it will be too crowded and figure to get a good seat.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Rally to Restore Sanity
http://www.thedailyshow.com/
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Tea Party

Jeter The Cheater?

On Wednesday night the Yankees were playing the Rays in Tampa. During the seventh inning, Yankee Legend Derek Jeter was at-bat, attempting to bunt, when a pitch came inside. Jeter recoiled from the plate, spinning away and shaking his arm as if trying to clear the stinging sensation. Jeter was awarded first base and walked down the line. The Rays bench immediately went nuts, because there was a clear noise when the pitch arrive that sounded nothing like a baseball hitting skin. Their complaints were confirmed with instant replay, where it was apparent that the pitch never hit Jeter but instead caught the end of his bat. However, because baseball wants us all to pretend that technological advances don't exist, that kind of thing isn't reviewable by the umpire. The Rays' manager was tossed for arguing while Jeter remained on first. And, because it always happens this way, the next guy hit a homer, giving the Yankees a 3-2 lead. After the game Jeter admitted that the ball never hit him and said he was shaking his arm because the vibration from the ball hitting the end of his bat sent a charge up his arm when the ump awarded him first base. Jeter then reminded the reporters it's his job to get on base ahead for his teammates, so he wasn't about to correct the ump.

First off, while I find it a d-bag move, I have no problem with what Jeter did, so that won't be the purpose of this post. Much like Thierry Henry admitted his handball in the World Cup Qualifier but pointed out that it wasn't his problem the refs didn't call it, Jeter is correct when he said he gets paid to get on base, not correct the umpires when they get a call wrong. It was a close game against a team the Yankees are fighting for not only the division title but for the best record in the league, so you should expect both sides to try and make use of any advantage they can find. Also, this post isn't even going to turn into a rant about the increasing need for expanded replay in baseball, because at this point I would just be repeating myself (for roughly the fortieth time). If Major League Baseball wants to stick their heads in the sand about video technology and not acknowledge the fact that the people in the stands are able to watch instant replays on their phones (and therefore know immediately that the umpires screwed up), then they can keep doing that and enjoy being the favorite sport of people over the age of 70. Meanwhile the NFL will run away with the 18-34 demographic because they embrace the future and invent a channel like Red Zone. [Sidebar: My love note to Red Zone is coming. There is a free preview this weekend, by the way. Watch it... it will change your life.]

No, the point of this post (knew I'd get there eventually) is to deliver a head-slap those people who thought Derek Jeter had a moral obligation to inform the ump that he wasn't hit by a pitch and continue on with the at-bat; as if Jeter is somehow above petty cheating. While I admit he seems like a fairly classy fellow, you are giving the guy way too much credit. He is, after all, just a baseball player. This isn't like golf where you are expected to call penalties on yourself. Baseball loves cheating and therefore baseball players love cheating. And why wouldn't they? Things like stealing signs before a pitch are not only part of the game, they are celebrated as tradition and pitchers who admit to doctoring the ball still find their way into the Hall of Fame. People use terms like 'gamesmanship' as a fancy way to excuse the fact that people are always trying to play outside the rules. It is part of what makes the Baseball Writer's moral stance of keeping known steroids users out of the Hall of Fame all the more laughable. Jeter is no better than any other player out there, though I agree completely that if this were done by A-Rod the guys who are on talk radio heads would explode. There is no great morality play here - it is simply the case of a guy taking advantage of a bad call by an umpire. I just hope all you Yankee fans remember that when Jeter gets a 95 mph fastball to the ribs next time the Yankees play the Rays in a couple weeks. (Gotta remind him what a hit-by-pitch really feels like. Part of baseball's unwritten rules - I'm sure you understand.)

Just Tell Me When I Need Gas

I have frequently used this space to compose love letters to my Mountaineer - how I love all the bells and whistles that make me happy (like the digital compass, sunroof and radio that will tell me the title and artist of the song currently on the radio), but have nothing to do with the actual performance of the vehicle. They are just the little perks that add to the driving experience. For example, Tuesday it was a temperature that allowed me to turn off the air conditioning, open the sunroof, roll down the windows, crank up the radio and just cruise. Days like that are among my favorite moments we get here in the Fall months in the Northeast and they are vastly improved when you are in a vehicle that is awesome. However, there is one thing about my truck that I could do without: the up-to-the-second gas gauge.

You see, the gas gauge in my truck could charitably be classified as 'sensitive.' Rather than simply give me a rough idea of how much gas is left in the tank once I get to around a quarter of a tank remaining, the gauge strives to be extremely accurate at all times. As a result, the gas needle is constantly bouncing up and down depending on things like how fast I'm going, how long I have been at that speed and how much fuel is at the section of the tank where the meter is. It's that last part the gets me because I have discovered the trick: if the front of my truck is tilted downhill is shows that I have less gas and it shows I have more gas if I'm driving up a hill. (Which, if you stop and think about it - and clearly I have - is the opposite of how you would expect that to work.) The only way to accurately determine how much gas I have before I run out is to find a stretch of road that is level and then drive on it for a couple of miles. While that sounds easy enough, do you know how many roads in Massachusetts are really and truly level? Let me tell you something, people: not many.

It's not that I don't appreciate the effort for accuracy, it is just that this constant shift in how much gas I have at my disposal usually serves to give me a heart attack because, as any guy out there will tell you, running out of gas is one of male society's greatest fears. There is something about the idea of someone having to come to our aid because of something so trivial that makes us want to avoid it at all costs. This fear is even greater if you are not a 'car guy'. While you might have made peace with the fact you have no idea how to fix a broken axle or make a timing belt out of a shoelace, even the most oblivious guy should be able to handle putting gas in a car when the needle approaches E. The other reason the constant changing gets to me is because, as any one who knows me is aware of, I am a double and triple-checker, so my eyes are glued to that gauge once I hit a quarter of a tank. And there is nothing worse than driving along, passing a sign that says "Next Exit: Last Gas For 50 Miles", checking that I have at least a quarter of a tank of gas left, only to look down again four seconds later and seeing the needle below E because I happen to be on a slight incline. Now I have to cross four lanes of traffic to get to the gas station, only to have the gas needle tell me once I arrive I have half a tank left because the exit ramp was downhill.

Now, I know what you're saying: "Tom, just get gas whenever the needle gets to a quarter of a tank! Problem solved!" Oh, if only it were that simple. Because, you see, there is another part of the male brain that is constantly chiming in when we are behind the wheel - the "let's see how far we can go on one tank of gas" section. Guys love to push the envelope to the point of almost running out of gas, but not actually doing it. I happen to know that my truck comes with a 20 gallon tank. If I stop to top off my tank and put in less than 17 gallons I feel like a giant failure. "Pansy," the Push-the-Limit side of my brain will say. "You're only in Worcester, you could have made it home without getting gas." Hopefully my next vehicle will come with one of those new displays tells you exactly how far you can go with the gas you have left. At least that way I will be able to drive up Mount Washington without thinking I have to stop for gas every 50 miles.

Composing A Letter Of Disinvite

Alright, so I know that last week I said I would stop talking about the Naked Man Incident of 2010 on this blog, but it appears that I have lied. The reason for me ending my own personal media blackout is because I've learned a few things about the "Letter of Disinvite" and I want to share them with you. For example, did you know that the police do not send the Letter? Yeah, turns out that this is entirely left up to us. Also, there isn't a standard form to fill out or anything. It is literally a letter that we just have to write free-form and send to this man on our own. Plus, while I have a name I do not have an address, which means I have to track him down. What do you want to guess are the odds that he has a listed number? We don't even get a complimentary stamp for our troubles. Finally, what this means is that this man, who clearly has a problem staying on his meds and who previously found his way into my house by accident, will now get a letter from us in a moment of clarity. As I said before, I love getting mail from people and I would be concerned that this would lead to him thinking we are somehow friends. Given my luck you just know that somehow my address will be the one thing he clearly remembers next time he goes off his medication and then becomes convinced something important is going on at my house, leading to another visit.

Another problem with this scenario is that we're counting on this guy to confirm he got the letter, which might be asking a lot. Organization doesn't appear to be a high priority in his life. Not to mention the low odds that he would respect a Letter of Disinvite if he ever forgets to take his pills again. So, I could very well send it, only to have him show up at my house again and deny he ever received anything in the mail. When you stop and think about it, not only is the Letter of Disinvite legally worthless, but kind of a pain in my ass. Given all of that, it should come as no surprises that we're pretty much going to move on from the whole thing (except for the fact that I got a great story out of it you will all eventually be sick of hearing) and not send the Letter of Disinvite. However, that doesn't mean I'm not going to write it. Since the Letter of Disinvite is legally as powerless as an office manager sending an email reminding everyone to make sure they empty their lunches out of the fridge every Friday and even if he got it he could just as easily ignore it, I figure posting the letter on this blog is just as effective as mailing it to him. Hopefully he'll stumble upon it somewhere down the line. Here's how I figure the letter should be written:

Dear Matt,
First off, is it cool that I call you Matt? I feel like since I already know you're circumcised, we've crossed over that line of formality. Anyway, I hope you are feeling better. Clearly the first time we met you were having a pretty bad day. I heard at that time you were off your medication. Perhaps you should invest in one of those little containers that does your pills for the week, as it may help avoid confusion and similar situations in the future. My grandmother used to have one and seemed to work well for her. Plus, you can get them in multiple sizes and colors to help differentiate between your day pills and your night pills. Sorry if it is presumptuous of me to assume you are on multiple pills but given the way we met I hope you can see where I could make that leap.
Sorry, I'm rambling.
Anyway, while I am sympathetic to your situation, the purpose of this letter is to inform you I'm going to have to formally request you stay out of my home and off the property from now on. In fact, if you could take the long way around and not even walk on my street I feel like that would be better for everyone involved. (It sounds as though my house was not the only one you visited that afternoon.) I know barring you from an entire street seems harsh, but you need to see this from my point of view: it was bad enough that you wandered in while I was home alone, but my nieces are constantly visiting. What if they had been over? I don't want any of them seeing a man naked until they turn at least 35. Also, had they been inside I would not have talked you out, so much as thrown you out face-first. So, avoiding my house is the best thing for everyone involved. I hope you get the help you need, just no where near my family.

Sincerely,
The Rakauskas Family

NFL Quickies

-So, Reggie Bush announced today that he will give back his Heisman Trophy after it was discovered during an investigation that he took improper benefits while in college and therefore was ineligible when he won. He says he just wants to put this behind him, but the reality is that Bush returning the Heisman just to beat the NCAA to the punch of taking it back. While it's all well and good that the NCAA is cracking down on improper contact between agents and students, I feel like pointing out that O.J. Simpson was never asked to give back his Heisman. Priorities, people.

-After one weekend of football, there have already been six players that have suffered season-ending injuries. I just wanted to bring that up because there are people out there who still insist the NFL should go to an 18-game schedule, forgetting football is a violent game. These guys are doing terrible harm to themselves as it is, so adding two more games is only going to raise the risk of serious injury. If the owners are determined to expand the schedule (and it appears they are) I hope they are ready to expand rosters. At the rate these players are dropping you're going to need closer to 70 players per team, not the 53 it is now.

-During last night's Chiefs/Chargers game, Phillip Rivers was continually getting frustrated during the game. Consequently, there was a lot of screaming at teammates (even when he was the one who short-armed the throw) and at one point he threw the ball down and kicked it at his center after a delay of game penalty, in a move that looked an awful lot like a temper tantrum my niece would pull. The announcers calling the game kept talking about Rivers' incredible competitiveness and his will to win every game. Funny, from where I sat he just looked like a douche.

-I don't get all the people who are mad at Randy Moss for his post-game press conference, during which he mentioned that he didn't want to leave New England, but expected that this was his last year as a Patriot. A lot of media though this was a bad time to bring it up, but I don't see the big deal, considering he said almost the exact same thing over the summer. It's not like this was out of the blue. He wants a new deal, but admitted the team isn't about to give a 34 year-old wideout a long-term deal. If anything it was a very mature response. Frankly, the timing couldn't have been much better, because at least it was after a win. If he did that after a loss I think Shaughnessy's head would have exploded.

-Speaking of the Patriots and their contact squabbles, I thought the report over the weekend concerning Logan Mankins was very interesting. For those of you that didn't see it, apparently a couple weeks back the Pro Bowl guard, in the middle of a lengthy hold-out while waiting for a new contract, arrived in Foxboro determined to hammer out a deal to stay in New England. But during his hold-out Mankins had said some less-than-flattering things about the Patriots and specifically Bob Kraft, so he was asked to call Bob and apologize, which he did. Mankins was then asked to issue a public apology to Kraft, which he balked at and that not only ended negotiations, but likely Mankins' career with the Patriots as well. I feel like the Patriots shouldn't have pressed their luck with Mankins by asking him to apologize in public. A guy like Mankins got to where he was by being ultra-competitive, stubborn and full of pride, so asking him swallow his pride twice was too much. The worst part was the Patriots would have gotten their wish anyway because you know someone would have asked him about his comments at the press conference, at which point he would have had to essentially repeat his apology publicly. Now you just hope they can get a high draft pick for him.

Things I Wish We All Would Stop Doing (Vol. 1)

-If you bring an item up to the register and it won't scan or doesn't have a price tag on it, please don't say, "Oh, it must be free." Now, I admit I'm as guilty of this as the next guy because sometimes it just comes out without thinking. However, I'm working on it and I want the rest of you to as well. I know it was funny the first time, but imagine being that poor salesperson - they must have heard various people say that 10,000 times that day. We're clever people, we can come up with a second joke for that situation.

-It drives me crazy whenever the phone rings and the person on the other end of the line responds to my 'Hello' with "Who's This?" It never fails to start a conversation off on the wrong foot, because instantly I'm annoyed with the person on the other end of the line. I feel as the person being called I am under no obligation to be the first party to identify myself. In fact, since you dialed the number you should know who is on the other end of the line. You're interrupting whatever I was just doing, so why don't you tell me who you are?

-I'm always slightly weirded out by couples who insist on sitting on one side of the table when they are the only people in the booth. Sure, that's cute when you are in high school and it's your first boyfriend/girlfriend, but after the age of 18 it just looks odd. If you want to hold hands or something you can do it on the table. Are you afraid your parents are going to come in and find you holding hands with a boy on a school night so you're trying to keep it on the down-low? You're married, they can't ground you anymore.

-There is an election going on this week and thus I've been getting a ton of political cold-calls with an automated message telling me to vote for whoever. Have these worked in the last 25 years? In fact, I contend most of the time they have the opposite effect and make me want to vote for that particular candidate less than I did 45 seconds ago. Also, did you know that political campaigns and charities are exempt from the National Do-Not-Call List? I find this ironic since they are the main abusers of the restrictions most telemarketers work under.

In Defense Of My Fantasy Football League

In anticipation of the NFL getting started this weekend, my fantasy football draft was held earlier this week. Once it was over, I sat back and thought about just how perfect my league is for me. You see, I like fantasy sports well enough, but I really like them when they are low-maintenance. The fact that my fantasy golf roster has to be updated three times in a weekend just kills me. I have never been one of those guys who is nine leagues and spends hours maintaining my roster. God love you if you have that kind of time and dedication, but I just don't. I have one fantasy football team and I spend a grand total of 10 minutes a week thinking about match-ups and who might be available on the waiver wire. (The weird thing about me is that I totally could be that "obsessive fantasy guy" with little-to-no effort. I currently have that kind of time on my hands.) I just don't care about statistics, I only care about wins and losses. I think this is why I don't like baseball nearly as much as most Bostonians.

Anyway, the fact that I am wired this way is exactly why my league is great. First off, it only has eight teams in it, which I admit is odd. (Odd, yes. But not psychotic, which was another friend's reaction when I told him that there are only eight teams. You would have thought I said I don't like puppies.) But, you see, because there are so few teams you can pick up talent later in the season without having to know who Jacksonville's fifth wide receiver is. It's like Fantasy Football set to beginner level. Plus, because there are so few teams everyone gets really quality players. For example, this year I have Maurice Jones-Drew, Aaron Rodgers, Frank Gore and Anquan Boldin. It makes for very high scoring and every match-up is close, which I feel like is the point of the whole exercise. Who wants to be in a fantasy league where every game is a race to score 25 points? Finally, the schedule with only eight teams is perfect - everyone plays the other teams twice, two playoffs rounds and we avoid NFL Week 17, where you never know who will play or for how long.

Also, we have over the years added the wrinkle of having one keeper from last year's team. While this seems like a minor issue, you have no idea how much it streamlines the entire draft. It shaves at least a half an hour off the process which is great because no one wants to admit it, but fantasy drafts get tedious around hour number three. By simply getting rid of one round we save enough time that everyone leaves happy and without repeating the same jokes forty-seven times. Plus, because we have had the same eight guys in the league for so long I can pretty much predict who will be drafting who and plan my draft accordingly. I never have to wonder if a certain player is going to fall to my spot because as long as their are Philadelphia Eagles on the board and Brian is drafting ahead of me, that is who he will be taking. Really, I could draft for everyone else's team at this point.

The hardest thing about my league is figuring out how to conduct a draft because the members of my league are scattered around eight cities in six states. Also, five of the eight members are married and four of those five have young kids, which is another reason why a low-maintenance league is the way to go for us. We were going to Skype it out, but then one of us (me) noted that we are not long-lost relatives. I don't need to see these guys' faces. We ended up doing an online conference call, which made us all feel very important and yet a couple of us never even had to change out of our pajamas. So, yeah, my eight-team, one-keeper league is not for everybody. But for me, it works just fine.

Football Ramblings...

-I didn't have a chance to talk about this the other day, but I thought the NFL players coming out right before kick-off Thursday night to hold up their index fingers as a show of union solidarity was really unnecessary. Every NFL fan knows that this time next year we're probably going to be looking at a lockout and no football, so we really didn't need the reminder at that moment. It seemed to be a buzz kill in what should normally be an uplifting moment. Imagine if right before your senior year of college all of the professors came out and reminded you the job market sucks. You know that bad news is looming, but there is no need to shove it in your face.

-Also, shows of solidarity are nice, but the players are going to cave in the upcoming negotiations. I know it, the owners know it and, deep down, the players know it. They may as well try and get the best deal they can now because if they let it get to the point of a lock-out then they will have to take whatever the owners feel like giving them.

-Every year there is a team that the college football analysts collectively get behind for absolutely no reason. This year it appeared to be Florida State. They didn't have a great recruiting class, they returned the same mediocre starting quarterback and they didn't even really undergo a coaching change because Jimbo Fisher had been essentially running the program for years. There was nothing at the end of last season to indicate that they would be making a big jump this year. Yet, for some reason they started the season in the Top 25. However, after getting thumped today by 30 points that should just about end that talk.

-Another team that I think we're not going to be hearing from for a few weeks is Boise State. After beating Virginia Tech last week there were a lot of people who said Boise should coast to an undefeated season and the National Championship game because, while their remaining schedule is fairly weak, Virginia Tech is a quality program. However, Tech lost to Div-1AA James Madison this afternoon. Suddenly they don't look so tough and Boise schedule looks Charmine soft. A one-loss SEC team could very well leap past them by season's end.

Unanswered Questions (Movie Edition)

Because we're not quite back to new shows on TV yet, I've been watching a lot of old movies on various cable channels. I think I need to stop this, because the more I re-watch the same movie, the more things I notice and more questions spring from these new observations. After a while it just wrecks the entire experience, to the point I can't even watch the movie anymore. Here are three that I've noticed in the last couple of days.

Lean On Me. You know the one mom who is really pissed off that her son was kicked out of high school? The one played by Lynne Thigpen? (Or, as I knew her when I first saw this movie in 1990, the woman from Where In The World Is Carmen San Diego?) How come when she is standing there, loudly complaining about the new principle who is desperate to try to clean up the school, no one stands up and says, "Um, excuse me, but wasn't your kid a drug dealer and that was why he got kicked out? Maybe if you spent half as much time being a parent as you seem to be able to to try and get this guy fired then your kid wouldn't be such a waste?" She obviously wasn't parent of the year. Seriously, who thought giving her a bullhorn at the end of the movie was a good idea?

Jaws II. Every time I see the same guy from the first movie is still Mayor, it drives me crazy. How is this guy still in office? I know that these were the days before 24-hour cable news networks, but how the hell was this guy re-elected after he was told by experts that there was a major shark still in the water and he decided not only to keep the beaches open, but to not even warn the public? Did he run unopposed? Also, as he pointed out in the first movie, his kids were also on that beach. So, not only is he a bad mayor, he's a bad father. This country loves family values in politics - that guy should have been crushed in his re-election campaign. Even if that the fact he knew was kept under wraps at the time you know it would get out eventually. This was an island town - I have a feeling everyone knew everyone else's business before too long. I'll totally buy that a giant, man-eating Great White Shark is coming for one specific family before I'll believe that that guy could possibly still be Mayor.

Rudy. This one kills me because Rudy has slowly but surely moved up my rankings as my favorite sports movie of all time, to the point it is now nipping at Hoosiers' heels. A couple days ago Joe Montana, who was on that Notre Dame squad, was on Dan Patrick's radio show and he mentioned that about 60% of what happened in Rudy was false. There was no turning in of jerseys and the lifting of Rudy after the game was mostly done because the other players were messing around. Now, the title of this post is unanswered questions, so here's mine: Joe, why you gotta break balls?

Letter Of Disinvite

Alright, just wanted to mention a couple of final items about the naked man incident from Monday and then this blog will go back to talking about things like the Celtics' off-season moves and how I hate it when people in line at Marshall's give me what I considered to be dirty looks. First, I re-edited the original blog entry. In my haste to get a post up as soon as I could I left out or simply glossed over some minor details. While that may not seem like a big deal, the storyteller/writer/editor/perfectionist part of my brain simply wouldn't allow that kind of thing to happen. Thus, I went back and put a couple of things in with more detail. While it only added one or two short paragraphs, I feel like it's better now. Also, you can't imagine the peace of mind I have now that my brain isn't reminding me I left a couple jokes out there for the taking. Secondly, a police update: turns out that the guy won't be charged with anything because he wasn't on drugs; he's known to have mental problems. I'm not sure if he was off his medication or not, but he just had to stay in protective custody for a couple of days. Also, according to the cops he won't be charged with breaking and entering because he didn't have to break anything to enter. Apparently, we're extra technical with the law around these parts.

It's the last item I take exception with: that makes it sounds as if this thing is somehow my fault. How dare I not have my doors locked in the middle of the afternoon on a holiday when I'm expecting people? By that logic, if I left my car door unlocked while I ran inside to grab something, anyone who comes along can help themselves to a ride and it's not grand theft auto. Now, I'm sure if I felt like being a pain I could push the issue about charging him with something like Unlawful Entry, but I don't. Instead the police want us to send him a "Letter of Disinvite" which is what I want to talk about here. For those of you who don't know (and I'm assuming this is most of you, because I had never heard of this thing before yesterday), a Letter of Disinvite is what you send to a person who has either entered your property against your wishes or has made of a fool of themselves after being invited and states you do not want them to return ever again. This will establish a legal precedent with the police so the next time this person comes around you can file more serious charges against them. I guess the first time you wander uninvited into someone's house is free - consider it a warning (for both sides involved). This is commonly used to get homeless people to stop hanging out in malls and is the same thing that gets sent to people who get barred from Gillette Stadium for being drunk and disorderly. No charges will be pressed for now, but if the person is caught on the property again you can charge them with a felony. Essentially it's a legal document which says, "Don't come back, ya hear!" Frankly, this doesn't sounds like the punishment is fitting the crime to me. I feel like we're too quick to lump everyone who gets thrown off someone else's property into one group here. Perhaps being able to pick a level of disinvite is in order.

Still, I think my biggest issue with the Letter of Disinvite is the name. "Letter of Disinvite" sounds like the title of an email you would send to a person who you once considered a friend, but who you now don't want to come to your wedding because one night they got drunk and talked crap about your fiancee. Also, when I hear that someone is getting a "Letter of" anything, it sounds really important. I have visions of a horse-drawn carriage delivering a scroll, sealed with a wax Royal Crest that someone pressed in with the ring they inherited from their grandfather. It doesn't sound like a bad thing, is my point. I'm almost sad I'm not getting one. (I do love getting non-bill mail.) While I'm pretty much satisfied with the intent behind the letter (mostly because I have to be), I just want it to have a more bad-ass name. I want this guy to get a "Letter of stay the hell off of my street" or a "Letter of you'd better hope I don't see you again." I want him to feel like he did something seriously wrong, not that he can't come to my Super Bowl party because he always brings Natty Ice but then drinks nothing but Guinness.

[Update: I'm not sending the crazy, naked man a "Letter of DisInvite" but that doesn't mean I can't write him one.]

I Need To Get My Testosterone Back Up

I was hanging with two of my nieces for most of today, which meant a lot of time watching Angelina Ballerina, talking about princesses and singing "Old MacDonald." I need a testosterone injection quickly. So, I give you a Metallica musical interlude off of one of the best metal albums of all time. That should do it.

Naked Man Updates

-So, my mom got her hands on a copy of the police report from yesterday's excitement. Turns out this is not the first time this man has had a run-in with the police and they are "familiar" with him. I think that has to be Reason #4,506 I have no desire to be a cop: I didn't like dealing with this guy once, never mind having to do it enough to be familiar with him. ("Oh, everyone can relax, it's just Dave - I'd recognize that genitalia anywhere!")

-Thanks to this creep having a fairly unusual last name, I was able to Google him (as you do) and discovered he has a LinkedIn page. He lists his industry as "Fine Arts"... of course he does. I got a shroomy/terrible musician vibe from him, so I can almost guarantee that he has a Phish poster in his house. This incident is not going to help my distrust of the damn, dirty hippies.

-Turns out that this guy lives just a street away from me, but actually came from the opposite direction than I thought. Still, now that I have a general idea of where he lives I am tempted to wait until he gets home, kick his door in, saunter into his living room, whip my junk out, scream "Now we're even!", put it away and leave. I won't, but the impulse is there.

There Was A Naked Man In My House...

About 1:20 this afternoon I was sitting in my living room, shopping for golf equipment on my laptop (because that's the kind of bad-ass I am) and enjoying a quiet end to a near-perfect Labor Day weekend, when I hear the door open. Because I come from one of those big New England family where no one knocks, I assume it is one of them and I think nothing of it. But, then I hear a very timid "Hello?" so I look up and standing in the doorway is a naked man. He's about 25, pale, tall (5'10") and scrawny (140 lbs), with shoulder-length brown hair and what appears to be a rash on half his face.

After the initial feeling of shock wears off, I have five thoughts in about 2 seconds:

1. I don't know this person.
2. Hey, that guy is naked. Why is he....
3. DANGER!
4. Hit him with the laptop!
5. No, wait, the laptop was expensive. Plus it has all your music on it and you just spent like a month getting it all in order. Would hate for that to have been for nothing. Put that down before proceeding. (It's amazing how my brain works at times.)

After putting down the laptop, the next thing I do is yell, "DUDE!" because that is the universal male response to unwanted male nudity. The only thing that varies is the inflection, depending on location and familiarity with the nude male. For example, if you are at a party and a drunken friend whips his junk out, you might turn away and groan, "Duuude." If you are at the gym and there is an old naked man who is taking too long to put his clothes on you might turn away and whisper to yourself, "Dude." But, because I did not know this man and my living room is not typically a place for male nudity, I cranked the volume to eleven and just yelled "DUDE!" as loud as I could.

Before I could even leap up out of my chair he's taking steps into the house with his hands up, pleading, "Don't be alarmed."

First off, this is never a smart thing to say because it automatically makes the person you say it to alarmed. But as bad as it normally is, it is the absolute worst thing you can ever say to a person if you are naked and they are clothed. "Dude, get the fuck out of my house," I scream.

"I need your help," he replies. This causes me to pause for just an instant while Irish-Catholic Guilt section of my brain chimes in: "He could be in trouble. You don't know his story. What if he was mugged and robbed, or kidnapped? You don't know your neighbors that well. One of them could be that guy from "Saw." Let's hear him out." Taking my pause as a cue to tell me his story, the naked man keeps going. "I've been poisoned."

Hearing this, the Irish-Catholic Guilt starts to waver. "Someone put acid in me," the naked man continues. To which the ICG says, "Never mind. This guy is nuts, we need to get him out of the house." I, agreeing with the ICG, respond with, "Dude, get the fuck out of my house!"
"But, I need help, I'm going to die," he says.
Full of sympathy, I reply with, "Get the fuck out of my house!"
"What town am I in?" he asked.
"You're in Norwood," I tell him. "...now get the fuck out of my house!"
"Someone is trying to kill me," he says. "I need to go to the hospital, but not here. You need to take me to the hospital in another town."
"You need to get the fuck out of my house," I repeat.
"Please, I'm gonna die," he said.

Despite the fact I am ending every sentence with, "you need to get out of my house," this actually goes back and forth for a few minutes. Weirdly, it appears I can't get through to the crazy person. Finally it occurs to me that I, for some reason, am actually negotiating with a naked man and I have had enough. "Look," I say, "You need to get out of my house. I'll get you a towel and call you an ambulance, but you need to get out."

"But..." he starts. Having made what is my best and final offer, I am done trying to reason with the naked crazy man and I want him gone. Now, I watch a lot of Discovery Channel, so I know in the animal kingdom the best way to get any potential predator to leave is to appear bigger than you are. Even though I've got six inches and easily a hundred and fifty pounds on the guy I try puffing my chest out like some sort of lizard, drop my voice a couple octaves, walk aggressively towards him and scream at him one more time to get out. This appears to scare him enough to get through whatever noise is going on in his head and he finally catches on that I might not want him in my home. So he backs up outside, to the point I can finally close and lock the door.

Now that he's not inside, I tell him through the door to stay put. I admit, that probably sent somewhat of a mixed message. But the thing is I live close to a soccer field that constantly has kids on it, so I wanted him out of my house, but I don't want him wandering that way. I run upstairs, grab a towel (not a good towel, mind you - a towel I won't mind never seeing again) and the phone and call 911. The woman on the other end asks my emergency, and I tell her a naked man just wandered into my house. Apparently, I sounded a little rattled.

"Calm down, sir," she says. Listen, lady, a possibly dangerous, probably crazy but definitely naked man just walked into my living room: you calm down. She says the police are on their way. By the time I get back downstairs the naked man has, not surprisingly, taken off. The police show up several minutes later and ask me where the naked man is, with enough skepticism in their voice that I'm worried they're going to think I'm the one who is high and seeing naked people. I told them he took off and I'm not sure where he went because I certainly wasn't about to go chasing after him to give him a towel.

Fortunately while they were taking my statement the naked man was spotted in my neighbor's yard and quickly arrested. Talking to my neighbors (naked, crazy people - bringing communities together!), it sounds as if he tried to get into their house first and then came up through the woods behind my house until he found an unlocked door. A door, I should point out, which will not be unlocked again for a while. You know, just before this happened I had been wondering what I was going to write about this afternoon. I really didn't need it to be something this interesting.

Also, what does it say about me that right after I heard he was caught I thought to myself, "This is going to make a hell of a blog post!"?

[Update #1: The police are requesting we send him a "Letter of Disinvite."]
[Update #2: Probably not going to send him the letter, but that doesn't mean I won't at least compose a first draft of it.]

Sonic Youth

Earlier this week there was a story out of Washington (it's been an interesting week down in D.C.) about a local mall that has been having problems with roving groups of teenagers. The teens have basically just been hanging out, being loud, annoying the people who are there to shop and there were a few reports of thefts at the mall. To counteract this, the shopping center recently put in a new "Mosquito" sound device. The premise behind the Mosquito comes from the fact that there are are certain frequency you stop hearing as you get older and your eardrums begin to loosen. Originally this was used by teenagers as a ringtone to alert them to a phone call while in class, because the teachers wouldn't hear it going off. Recently someone decided to use this technology as a crowd-control device and set up a machine that would emit a constant buzzing noise set at variable frequencies. It isn't painful and (allegedly) causes no permanent hearing damage, but it gets very annoying, very quickly. The shop owners have setup the device to make a constant piercing noise at a frequency you stop hearing after the age of 18 in an effort to get the kids to move along, but at the same time not bother the older patrons. (You can test out yourself to see make sure you are hearing everything you should be here.)

Ignoring for the moment the issue of just how legal it is to set this thing up in a public area, I have to think that this is very short-sighted of these store owners. First off, in the current economy, should you really be sending anyone away from your store? It doesn't matter if these kids are only spending a dollar here and another there; after a while it will start to amount to a number that matters. Secondly, they are painting an entire age group with one brush. Yeah, there are teenagers out there who suck and only want to cause trouble. But even other teenagers think those kids are punks, so why should they be lumped in with them? Also, what is this going to do to those kids who are at the mall with their parents? They already weren't going to act up with their parents nearby and so they aren't the intended targets, yet they are going to be just as bothered by the noise as the punk kids and as a result will take their business (read: their parent's money) elsewhere. Not to mention, it won't exactly inspire repeat business once those teenagers reach an age when their hearing isn't so sensitive. Kids today have long memories and you can bet they won't be anxious once they turn 24 to spend their money at a location that they think tried to make them go deaf when they were 17. Besides, the shop owners are causing ill-will for no reason: I was remember when I was a teenager and constantly turning my headphones up as loud as they would go - we do just fine trying to make ourselves go deaf, thank you very much.

-You know who never fails to annoy me? People who are angry when weathermen are wrong, but wrong in their favor. Earlier this week all we heard about was Hurricane Earl coming this way. Now, to the credit of the reporters around here, none of them ever made it sound like it would be more than a one-day event, but even still they recommended stocking up on canned goods and batteries, just in case the storm turned. After all, weathermen are trying to predict the future. Even I fell for this warning, driving down to the beach house to secure all the windows and literally clear the deck. But, before Earl got to us it weakened considerably and when it did get here it arrived late at night and was finished before most of us even woke up the next morning. Now, you would expect most people to be happy that we avoided the worst of it and just be thankful there was no serious damage done. But, there are those among us who actually seemed angry they weren't spending their Saturday assessing property damage and cutting up fallen trees. I understand being angry when they underestimate the strength of a storm, but telling us to be prepared just in case the worst case scenario should happen actually seems like the wise idea. At least look at it this way: you won't have to buy cans of corn for a couple weeks.

My Day At TPC Boston

On Thursday I had the chance to go to TPC Boston and check out the Championship Pro-Am. To be honest, I was probably more interested in simply seeing the course since I had never been there before. Despite temperatures in the 90s, it turned out to be a good day to go because I avoided the hurricane and got to bring a camera onto the grounds. Also, because there were no signs to tell you what the hell it means when they designate something as the "green" lot, I accidentally ended up parking amongst the volunteers for free, so I had that going for me. (Don't worry, they made their money back with $3 waters.) Below you'll see some of the pictures I took as I wandered around the place.

I got there a little later in the afternoon and wasn't sure where they were on the schedule. The first pro I stumbled upon was Anthony Kim coming off the tee at #9, which apparently is next to the surface of the sun. This is what happens when you try and take a picture looking into the sun.

After AK, I started to work my way backwards through the front nine, at which point I found Padraig Harrington playing in his pro-am with Celtics owner Steve Pagliuca (dark green shirt). Frankly, as a huge Celtics fan, I'm not sure who I was more excited to see. Pagliuca had a very nice Celtics golf bag and I was going to ask him where he got it, but then I figured if you own the team you don't ever have to buy anything with their logo on it. After these guys was Camilo Villegas' group, but I couldn't get a good picture. Don't blame me, the guy is tiny and quick.

Speaking of not being able to get a good picture, the next guy to come along was Rickie Fowler. Now, every time I went to snap a picture of him the amateur's caddy would step into my way. I don't think it was on purpose, but it was certainly annoying. This was the best I could do. I also successfully resisted the urge to tell him to get a haircut.

It was at this point I came across Hunter Mahan on the sixth hole. Since Mahan is my favorite golfer, I followed this group as they finished up their round, which had started on the back. Due to the good vibes I sent him during the pro-am, I take full credit for Mahan shooting -7 the next day.

Once Mahan finished up I decided to check out the back nine. This is the 200 yard marker on #10, which is just off the cart path and behind trees that hide the green. I loved this. I can only assume they put this marker here because a lot of guys had to play from this spot, proving that just because a club is expensive, it doesn't mean the guys who belong are any better at golf than the guys at the muny.

This is the shot over the 12th green looking back at the driving range. Alright, I'll admit it's a little nicer than the range I go to.

Hey, look, it's Stuart Appleby. Or Robert Allenby. I always get those two confused. (Kidding... It's Appleby, Mr. 59.)

Here's the 16th hole, a par 3 over mostly water. I put the over/under on number of amateurs' balls in the drink at 150. Also, those structures behind the green are temporary luxury boxes. Remind me to get one when the sponsorships for my blogs start to roll in.

Here's the closing 18th and this isn't even from the tips. Remember this view when they say on TV how easy this hole is playing.

After checking out the closing holes I wanted to see the rest of the front nine that I missed. This is the view behind the second green, looking back towards the tee which is hidden behind that tree in the distance. The area in front of the green is all water. Would you like to automatically write down a 7, or do you feel like earning your 9?

I guess my only complaint about the course layout is that in a couple cases there is a lot of distance between the holes. You go from a golf course to Sherwood Forest. This is the road from #3 to #4.

Once you emerge from the forest, you find yourself on the "short" par-4 4th hole. Again, short is a relative term. Everyone goes for the green in one, and no one in the group I saw made it.

Not even Ernie Els who, everyone feels to the need to point out, is really tall for a golfer. However, in my family, he's average.

Now that I had seen the entire course I figured I would check out the driving range to see who was still practicing. Turns out Rory McIlroy was still working, which was cool.

And here are all the equipment trucks next to the range, just in case any of the pros want a new club right away. Not 40 minutes later I saw the TaylorMade truck on the side of the road with its hazard lights on. You can write your own joke for that one.

Overall it was a really fun day and nice to check out a course I had seen on TV. Also, I have a new understanding of why golfers are so aware of noise in the crowds, cause it is silent out there.