New Year's Puck Droppings

A new year always makes me a bit nostalgic. As I’m waiting for the Annual Winter Classic hockey game (which takes place outdoors), I started thinking back to when I used to play pickup hockey.

I fell in love with hockey when we lived in Chicago and I was in 3rd grade. That’s the year I got ice skates and a hockey stick for Christmas. I learned how to skate with a stick in my hand and that’s just how it was.

Now when I say, “learned how to skate”, you have to take that with a grain of salt. I learned how to scramble around a bumpy lake or snow-packed street without falling down very much. The hockey stick was kind of like that big pole that high-wire acts use to keep their balance. But that first time skating, there was no teaching, it was just “you have skates, here’s your stick, there’s the ice… get out there.”

I never played organized hockey when I was growing up. That seemed way too complicated. But every day in the winter, my brother and I would be out on the street or on a local pond, “skating” around and shooting pucks at each other. Even in the summer, we’d play in the garage. One of us would grab a baseball glove and guard a little spot between two pieces of firewood we’d set up for a goal. We’d use either a real puck or a baseball. Man, my shins got so banged up sometimes that I could hardly walk.

We learned to skate on figure skates… that just happened to be what we got for that 3rd grade Christmas, so that’s what we used and never thought twice about it. I got a pair of hockey skates once in junior high school and I hated them. They didn’t have toe-picks, (the small jagged section on the front end of the blade) so I couldn’t push off. (Remember, I didn’t really know how to skate properly. Left to our own, we used our toe-picks to get started.)

A toe-pick almost killed me once… or rather, killed my ego. I was a teenager, skating at night on our neighbor’s pond, on a beautiful crisp night. I was telling a neighbor girl about how sometimes when I almost fall, I can throw a quick spin-around and come out of it looking like I did it all on purpose. I told her, “sometimes I can be pretty graceful”. The exact moment I said the word “graceful”, my toe-pick hit a crack in the ice and I pitched forward, flat on my face, spinning in lazy circles as I slid another 20 feet.  Pride indeed cameth before my fall.

In college, I took a semester of figure skating and it was the greatest thing. It was also very hard because I had to unlearn everything I’d ever “learned.”

The best thing I learned was that it helps to have sharp skates. My instructor had wondered why a big strapping guy like me was having such trouble with the rudimentary beginner’s drills. She said, “Let me see your blades.”

I showed her the blade of my old skate. She said, “Oh my God.  Take those off right now.”

My blades were about as sharp as butter knife handles.  What the hell did I know?  I thought skates were skates…

She got me in a pair of house skates that were sharp… ones with actual inside and outside edges… and holy hell! I had no idea skating could be like that! Suddenly I could stop, turn, and accelerate… It was like the first time I put on glasses, not knowing how well the rest of the world could see.

I didn’t learn anything terribly difficult in skating class, but I did re-learn how to skate, forward and backward. I learned to do those fancy backward crossovers. I could even do a 180-degree jump… in other words, skating backward, jumping, and coming down on the other foot, facing forward. On the last day of class, right at the end, I tried to do a 360. Almost pulled it off, too. The teacher was not amused.  “Do NOT try that again… you’re nowhere near ready for that!”

OK, OK.  I had to try though.

After that class, I hardly ever got to skate. Too busy out making a living and trying to find my way in the world. Next thing you know, 13 years down the road I’m married (cold chill runs down back), living in Albany, NY, in 1996, spotting an ad in the Pennysaver announcing the formation of a new co-ed, non-checking hockey league in Saratoga Springs.

I called and found out that it was started by a group of hockey parents. They’d had a pickup game, grownups against the kids, and found out how much fun it was to get on the ice and play. They decided to do so regularly and thus the “league” was born. I wanted in immediately and even without being a parent, I was welcomed with open arms.

First, I had to get suited up. I’d never owned a single piece of hockey equipment other than skates and a stick. I had no idea what was involved. A trip to Dick’s Sporting Goods was a necessity. Luckily, the guy in their hockey department took good care of me. He gave me everything I’d need for such a league and was careful not to overdo it. Like, for a non-checking game, I wouldn’t need the big Robo-shoulder pads; a nice light pair would do just fine. It’s a good thing he was there… I didn’t even know how to put all the stuff on.

And yes, I got some nice new hockey skates. No more toe picks for me.

I had no idea what to expect from the Just-For-Fun League when I showed up that first night. The rink was pretty primitive, but then so were my skills. I needn’t have worried, though, because so were everyone else’s. I was afraid I’d stand out as a rube, but in fact, I was in the middle of the pack, skills-wise.

While the name says “Just-for-Fun League”, it really wasn’t a league as much as a big pickup game. There would be about 20 players and we’d divide up teams. At first, we’d just throw all the sticks on the ice and then they’d be separated randomly, forming two teams. Later, after we got a good bead on each other, Ellen the “founder” (and one of the goalies) would take people of similar skill by twos and divide them, so that no one side could accidentally become stacked.

I scored a goal that first night so I at least felt like I belonged. In the early years, we were all pretty raggedy. There were some epic collisions… not because we were looking to hit, but because we weren’t very good at stopping and turning in time before, WHAM.

One of the cool things was that by design, you’d get to play every position. (Except for goalie, of course.) First, you’d have your starting five, and then as people got tired (usually after 1-2 minutes) they’d come to the bench and yell out their position. Whoever was next in line would go in and take that their place. That way, no one could monopolize any one position.

The first thing I learned was that playing hockey was nothing like playing softball. In softball, you spend most of your time waiting for something to happen. Most of the time, it didn’t involve you. It was mostly standing around, followed by short bursts of furious activity. If you screwed something up, maybe you got a chance to redeem yourself, maybe you didn’t.

In hockey, it’s nothing but furious activity. You can lose the puck, stop the other guy, take it back, take a shot, and make a pass… all in about 30 seconds. It’s constant ebb and flow. You really don’t have time to dwell on mistakes because you’re immediately onto the next thing.

I loved the speed, the woosh of the wind in your earholes, and your hair blowing in the breeze behind you.  Yeah, I had longish hair back then, at least in the back.  My idol of that era was Jaromir Jagr. Hockey fans and Pittsburghers who were around in the 90s know who I’m talking about. For everyone else, Jagr joined the Penguins at age 18, directly from Czechoslovakia. He was a mullet-wearing, free-spirited bundle of talent back then and I totally wanted to be him. For most of our games, I wore a white Penguins jersey with his number 68 on it.

About once a year, I’d have my wife come to a game and shoot some video.  I was sure we’d all look fabulous out there flying around at such great speed. Then I watched the tape.

Oh. My. God. We were sooooo slooooooooooooooow. I don’t know how it’s possible to feel like you're zooming all over the place and then watch the tape that shows what looks like a bunch of people drifting aimlessly about the ice. It was excruciating.

I played for four years and had the time of my life. It was very gratifying, over the years, to see the overall skill level pick up. We were worlds better the 4th year than we were when we started.

If I had to scout myself, it would be like this:

Good skating in straight lines; not so maneuverable.  Outstanding reach. Hard to get around.

Smaller players skated rings around me, but I could often catch them if I turned and skated alongside them.  Having long arms helped a great deal. If I was facing someone on a breakaway, they’d go around me like I was a giant cone. But if I turned and went the same direction, I could always interfere with their shot and usually force them wide. One of the guys once told me, “Trying to get around you is like trying to go around a wall.”

Good in the corners, a grinder.

My skating or puck skills weren’t going to dazzle anyone, so I decided I’d try to out-hustle. I’d be the guy battling people, chasing the puck, and fishing it out of the corners.

Great wrist shot, absolutely no slapshot. (Where you take a big windup, with the stick up off the ice.)

I couldn’t shoot a slapshot to save my life. I’d either whiff or it would just kind of dribble up there. But I was a sniper with a wrist shot.  (Where you just kind of snap the puck without lifting your stick.) I was one of the few people that could get the puck up in the air easily… it’s something I’ve always been able to do since I was a kid.  Every shot came at least knee-high. I had this one stick I got from the local minor league team that had a wicked curve and loft to it.  It took me a while to get the handle on it, because every shot would go high and to the left. I took a shot from the right point once and almost took off our defenseman’s head. She was standing at the bottom of the left circle.

There was another guy that just had a cannon of a slapshot… but he couldn’t control it. I called it the Moses Shot, because he’s wind up from the point and everyone would just part like the Red Sea. No one had any idea where it was going to end up and it was seldom on net.

Plays a sportsmanlike game but don’t get him riled up.

I was so glad it was a non-hitting game because another thing I learned is how easy it is for one’s passions to run over. I normally played a very gentlemanly game, but if someone were to, say, jostle me, elbow me, or knock me off the puck in any way, it was like my eyes would turn red and I’d just want to plow into someone. I’d go all “Francis” on them and make it my mission to “accidentally” mash the offender into the glass, the post, the ice, or whatever.

"Lighten up, Francis."

I was only ever called for two penalties, one of which I deserved. One of the bigger dudes (four inches shorter than me but about 50 lbs heavier) knocked me off the puck and stole it, taking it up the ice. I got up and just charged. I was praying he’d keep possession of the puck because I thought that would give me cover. I caught up to him and basically flew at him, like "My Cousin Vinny" did to the redneck that wanted to fight him.

Tweeeeeet!  Two minutes!

Then I had the nerve to stand there with my arms out going, “What?”

It was a clean hit that wouldn’t be penalized in a regular game, but we were in a non-checking league, hence the penalty.

It was a learning experience playing with women, and sometimes their daughters. I found that while they may not have shot as hard as the guys or were as physical, they skated better and were better passers. What was hard for me was getting into the physical battles for the puck. Even in a no-checking group, there was a lot of pushing, shoving, and muscling for the puck. I always felt like I shouldn’t do that with women. I was brought up to never raise a hand to a lady and that was a hard thing to overcome.

The women helped me with that though, mostly by stealing the puck from me with great regularity, so often that I wanted to kill them. There were two, in particular, the teenage daughters of a 40-something player named Joanne.  We’d be in the locker room afterward, (no one was getting naked, just getting pads off and on) and I told a couple of them how troubled I was about not wanting to be rough with them.

They basically laughed at me, telling me that the boys they play against in their own league have no such inhibitions. Made me feel better, anyway. I still didn’t knock them around like I could have, but I didn’t feel so bad about using my size if I had to.

The family aspect of our group also made for some memorable encounters. I was skating with Joanne one game and she got plowed into behind the net. I went flying up to put a shoulder on the guy that did it, but I pulled up at the last moment when I saw that it was her husband!

We got back to the bench and I told her I almost went after him. She looked pissed. I said, “You want me to get him, next shift?”

She was like, “Hell yeah!”

There was one guy in our group that was really good. He was a smallish, wiry guy but he could just blaze up and down the ice. Before I knew his name, I just thought of him as "My Nemesis." (Later, he was just "Danny", and happened to be a really good guy.) But I decided to make it my business that this was the guy I was going to dedicate myself to stopping. The dude undressed me more times than a $20 hooker, but it forced me to get better. I became a much better defender because of it so that by the end of my tenure, we'd have some pretty epic battles. But that’s a life lesson, isn’t it? You never get better at anything unless you go up against someone who’s better.

But OMG, what a workout the game was! Every muscle group would be spent... legs from skating, back from hunching over the stick and getting low, arms and shoulders from pushing and grinding in the corners... After a game, it was all I could do to get my gear bag back to the car. I'd be totally whipped, especially early in the season. But later, of course, it would get easier. I was in the best shape of my life when I was playing hockey.

Anyway, it was really a great group of people.  We’d chase each other around for an hour and a half and then limp down to the pub and drink for another 2. Good times.

It killed me to leave all that behind, but my non-hockey life was in the toilet. Divorced, working a shitty job with horrible hours, living like a monk… there was nothing left for me in New York.

One night I made a list of all the reasons I should move to Baltimore to be near family, versus all the reasons I should stay. Needless to say, one list was very long and the other was quite short. The biggest reason on the short list, the one to stay in New York, was playing hockey. But sadly, there had to be more to life than that couple hours a week every winter, so I moved on to start a new life chapter.

After moving to Baltimore, I tried to find a similar gig. There was a rink nearby, but there were two things going against it. First, the pickup hockey hours were 11:30-1:00 on Saturday nights. I’m sorry, but I'm ready for bed at that hour, not ready to go out and scrap. But most importantly, the people were very clique-ish. I did NOT feel very welcomed. Everyone mostly seemed concerned with skating exclusively with their friends. I went twice, then never again. They were not interested in entertaining any "intruders" in their club.

Still, I’ll never forget the woosh of the wind in my ears and long-gone hair blowing behind me. 

No Escape

 I’m growing much more pessimistic regarding the invasion of Ukraine ending anytime soon, or without becoming a nightmare of epic proportions. I just don’t see a clear way out, mostly because of Vlad.

He seems to be impervious to outside influence. The stranglehold that’s being put around his country, one that would cripple most leaders, won’t have the effect we’re hoping for, because very simply, he just doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything aside from his personal agenda. No wonder the Republican power players admire him.

He doesn’t care about his people. He’ll tell them what to think and what to do and any dissenters will find themselves in a deep hole in Siberia before they know what happened. He’s already instituted a new law punishing anyone publishing “lies” (meaning the truth) about the military exercise/invasion in Ukraine, so they're not going to know what's really going on, kind of like Fox "News" viewers. Even when he ran for office, I bet his campaign motto was “You’ll get nothing and like it.” The Putin/Smales ticket.

He doesn’t care about civilians in Ukraine; hell, he’s targeting them on a scale like no other military leader in memory. He can’t be shamed with casualty figures because he gives less than a shit about killing women and children.

He doesn’t care what other countries think. All he wants is to be feared. That’s why I don’t see him backing down, ever. This isn’t the kind of guy who’s going to go, “OK, this isn’t working, the cost is too high in lives and rubles. Let’s turn this thing around and go home.”

Basically, he’s Mitch McConnell with an army.

No, he’s in it until he gets something he wants because the one thing he will not do is accept failure or defeat. His ego will not permit it, so it’s full speed ahead. I suppose it’s possible that he just creates an objective that he can obtain and call a win. With his control over the Russian media, he can tell them anything he wants and make them believe it. Like, “I just sent some of our boys out to pick me up some vodka and cigars and they got a little carried away!”

Personally, I think the only way we get out of this is if the Russian mafia has him whacked. He’s stepping on their livelihood and I’m sure that’s not going over well. Of course, Putin knows this too so he’ll be very hard to reach. This is a guy who knows how to be cautious. If you know how to assassinate, you know to prevent being assassinated.

I know there’s a faction that’s clamoring for escalating our military activities, from enforcing a no-fly zone to dropping bombs on Russian troops. I think we need to be verrrrrry careful about that. This is the first time in a long time that we have an enemy that can hit us back on our turf. If we start dropping ordnance on Russian forces, how long before Vlad lights up the west coast? Hell, they’ll no doubt take a shot at Washington DC too. That can easily take Baltimore with it and then goodbye Bluzdude.

Like I said, he doesn’t give a shit about his own civilians if we retaliate, and he cares even less about ours. I’m just saying that the consequences can be devastating, right here within our borders, so no matter how tough we like to sound with our buddies down at the bar, cooler heads need to prevail.

Finances and Stuff

The last few months have been a real learning experience. My father and brother-in-law both passed away suddenly late last year, but left very different circumstances in their wakes. Both handled all of the household finances and bank accounts.

My dad left a considerable trail of breadcrumbs. I already wrote about bringing home his “Go-bag,” containing all their important documents and $22k in cash. He had 2 handwritten pages included, that documented exactly what documents were in the case. He also had a piece of notebook paper on his desk that included (almost) all of his online passwords, plus a few on post-it notes. I know that’s not terribly secure, but it was most useful in trying to work with his accounts and investments. My brother, who works in accounting, was able to put things together fairly quickly.

Sadly, my sister’s husband left no such trail. He had been working on creating a reference for her, but he apparently never finished. She couldn’t even get into his computer or phone. It took a lot of sleuthing from my brother and one of my BIL’s work friends to figure things out and get a bead on how the finances stood.

These scenarios reverberated through our family, particularly with Sweetpea and my brother’s wife. Both were determined not to have such a situation repeat itself. I know my brother and sister-in-law sat down and went over things a few weeks ago.

I had been wanting to do something similar with Sweetpea for ages, pretty much ever since we got married. But it was never a front-burner issue until now.

Back when I was a single apartment-dweller, I got the notion that I’d better leave some similar tracks in case I were to drop dead. Someone would need to know what’s what, so I created a simple Word document that detailed how to get into my phone and computer, how to find my passwords, what kind of accounts I had and where, what I wanted to be done with my stuff, and so forth. I bought an online will, which I completed but never “activated” by getting it witnessed and signed. I posted about all that here.

So all I really needed to do was adjust the document to reflect the needs of my married status and then go over it with Sweetpea. I feel better now, knowing that she knows how to access everything and what to look for. I didn’t want her to ever think I was keeping financial secrets from her. I’d hate for a big chunk of change to end up going to the state, just because no one knew it was there.

The other big issue is the dispensation of “stuff.” Good god, we do collect a lot of stuff, don’t we? My mom and brother were back down in Florida last weekend going through the contents of my parents’ house. You know, what to keep, what to sell, what to donate, etc. Even as scaled back as their place was, there’s still so much stuff!

It doesn’t help that we all collect sports stuff. Dad had a whole curio full of figurines, stadium replicas, framed pictures, autographed balls, etc. My brother and I have similar collections. These things all seem so important to us at one time or another and then, poof. We’re gone and someone has to figure out what to do with all our shit.

My swag shelves. And this doesn’t even include all the Orioles bobbleheads I’ve collected from going to the games. I had to box them up because I ran out of room.

It leads to an internal struggle. On one hand, it’s something that I’ve become a lot more conscious about. I should really take action to try to sell off some of my stuff, while it still holds any kind of value. Even at this point, who would possibly want a Chris Davis bobblehead? (Former Orioles slugger who signed a huge contract and then never hit above .150 again.)

On the other hand, the Mario Lemieux Foundation is advertising another of their charity duffle bag sales, wherein fans can buy Penguins duffle bags filled with bobbleheads, signed pucks, plaques, coolers, and other swag. I’ve bought them before and each time I think, “OK, that’s the last time.” Until I see the next year’s goodies that I just have to have. So it’s a habit I have to break.

Our house is not particularly big. There’s a lot of room in the basement, but as this is the house Sweetpea and her family grew up in, it’s packed with her family’s lifetime of stuff. I have no intention of adding to it. I need to get serious about selling some stuff off.

Does anyone want to buy a Manny Machado bobblehead?

Ice Burgh

Happy New Year to you. I wish we could be celebrating under better circumstances, but at least we’re still out here thrashing around!

Today was my first day back at work since 12/21, so in my mind, I’m still day-drinking and watching sports. Only my butt was back at my desk at work. Eventually, my heart and mind will follow.

So what did I do with my 11 days off? I can put it into three categories:

• Christmas Prep
• Christmas
• Pittsburgh

Like I mentioned in the last post, Sweetpea throws a big Christmas breakfast every year, in which in addition to her family, she invites anyone else who doesn’t have anywhere else to go or anything to do. (Translation: Singles and Jews.)

So Saturday and Sunday were spent getting the place ready for the crowd, except for the part on Sunday where I went to the sports bar to watch football. Charitably speaking, I was “getting out of her hair.”

Because of the Christmas morning craziness, we had “our” Christmas and exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve. My favorite gift? This shirt: 

 That’s one of my favorite quotes and I don’t even watch Game of Thrones!

The biggest challenge for Christmas Breakfast, (aside from keeping the dog from barking his head off in desperate attempts to get people to play ball with him outside), (in the COLD!), was getting everyone back out of the place so that we could make a break for my brother’s house and watch the Steelers game at 4:30.

We almost pulled it off, but about an hour before we wanted to leave, Sweetpea’s old 10^th-grade teacher showed up, after everyone was gone and all the food was put away. So he supervised the cleanup we were doing, talked sports with me, and we literally walked him out the door as we were on our way out ourselves.

In keeping with the Christmas spirit, the Steelers won handily, so we didn’t have to live and die on every snap. For a change…

On Tuesday, the day after Christmas, we headed for Pittsburgh. I’ve wanted to show her around the Burgh ever since we met. Because we were busy this summer and she won’t get much of a spring break, we decided to use Christmas break for the trip.

On the plus side, the timing was perfect for our schedules. On the minus side, on the day I wanted to show her around the town, it was 11 freakin’ degrees out!

Anyway, we checked into the gorgeous Omni William Penn, got settled in, and then headed out to the burbs to see my family. Sweetpea got to meet 2 aunts, 1 uncle, 3 cousins, and 2 cousins-once-removed (or whatever you call your cousin’s kids).

 As always, we enjoyed good stories, good drinks, and amazing food. Aunt Mary laid out some manicotti to die for!

In fact, she had me email my dad some pictures of the food, just to rub it in that he wasn’t getting any. Yes, wise-assery is a family trait.

We also got to hang out with another special girl, Aunt Mary’s sweet little Samantha.

The Queen, on her throne.

The picture doesn’t really give any perspective, but Sweetpea’s dog probably has 80 pounds on her. This dog could sit in the palm of my hand (if she kept very still).

Somehow, we managed to escape before falling into a food coma, and made our way back to the Penn, to rest up for our Big Day.

I’d been watching the weather for the prior week so I knew it was going to be cold; it was only a matter of degree. (Heh) I was hoping the forecast would change, and it did. It kept getting colder. I had a few specific things I wanted to show off, so I planned a more direct route than I might have otherwise.

So, we knew it would be cold and we dressed accordingly. But still… we stepped outside and WHAM. It was like walking into the side of an igloo. Of course, it depended on where you were. There were parts when we were in the shade and the wind was blowing, and it was like you were going to die right there on the street. Then in other places, out in the sun, it didn’t feel so bad.

So, our points of interest?

The Allegheny River and the ballparks and bridges that line it.

I’ll have to wait until baseball season to show her how awesome it looks, looking the other way around.

Sweetpea, the Ravens fan, hurls obscenities at Heinz Field.

OK, that’s not technically true, but it could have been. We basically had the city to ourselves. While we were down at the Confluence, there was nary a body in sight. It was like we were plopped down in the zombie apocalypse, without the zombies.

I couldn’t wait to show her PPG Plaza, which is gorgeous on most days,

but even better with the Christmas tree and ice rink.

By the time we got to Market Square, we were pretty much done with browsing; we needed someplace to warm up and get a bite to eat. We ended up at Diamond Market.

I was quite happy to tuck into the Colossal Cod sandwich.

On the way back to the hotel, we found a wine and spirits shop downtown, from which we picked up a little bourbon. Once back to the Penn, we poured ourselves a couple of drinks and went down to sit in the lobby.

Sitting down there with our drinks on the couches, it felt like we were movie stars in some 1920s musical. I kept waiting for a flash mob to show up.

Once sufficiently warmed up, inside and out, we retired to the room for a much needed nap. Hey, nobody parties like fifty-somethings! But we wanted to rest up for the main event: The Pittsburgh Penguins vs Columbus Blue Jackets!

We had seats in the 6^th row, down by the corner on the side. This was Sweetpea’s first NHL game, so I wanted us to sit up close. The location was good for catching a number of nice pictures:

Unguarded moments…

Jake Guentzel and Conor Sheary have a laugh.

…sly smiles…

Sid Crosby laughing at Hornqvist, probably about the missing “u” in his name.

…special moments…

Penguins’ tough guy Ryan Reeves fist-bumps with a small fan.

…and high-speed action.

Carl Hagelin on the move.

So it was a good game… the Pens were down early but fought back to score two in the third period and tie it up. When the Pens scored in overtime, we immediately high-tailed it out of there. The last thing I wanted to do was get trapped down in the lower bowl, waiting for our turn to get out.

By the time we got to the top of the bowl, we heard that they were challenging the goal. By the time we got around the end of the concourse, we heard the goal was overturned. OT went on without resolution so the game went to a shootout.

If we’d stayed in our seats, we would have had a primo angle. But from up on the concourse, our view was more like this:

Actually, this would have been pretty sweet, but once the shootout started, everyone in the place stood up and all we could see were backs and butts, so Sweetpea and I had to watch the monitors.

Still, it was fine. The Pens won by scoring on their first two attempts while Columbus missed theirs. And with that, we were out the door in a flash. We were back up to the room (3 blocks away) before we would have even gotten out of the lower bowl if we’d stayed.

Thursday morning, we had breakfast at the Penn with an old family friend of Sweetpea’s, after which we hit the road. Got back to Baltimore by 2:45, easy as pie.

And it was a good thing we didn’t linger. I saw on the news that night that a semi overturned about 5:00 pm and blocked all three lanes of 1-70 just outside of Baltimore. Jam went for miles and lasted three hours. Count one little slice of hell avoided.

Way back at the beginning when I mentioned the three parts of last week, you may have noticed that I omitted New Years. That was purely intentional… we didn’t do jack. Stayed home, watched some football, watched the fireworks on TV and went to bed.

Thank you again for coming to visit my little corner of the internet. I hope you have a grand 2018 and I’ll do my best to provoke thoughts, laughter, and general crankiness. I’ll be back next Monday with some four-star debunkery.

Odd Bits – The Batman and Batsmen Edition

Every couple of years, the Pittsburgh Pirates play a couple of games here in Baltimore, against the Orioles.  These are my two favorite teams so I always go see a couple of games from the series.  (This year they play two here, a Tuesday and Wednesday, and then two in the Burgh, in September.)

While you see me reference the Orioles more frequently, due to my proximity to Camden Yards, I still consider the Buccos my favorite team.  The black and gold runs deep.  And given that I have three different Pirates game jerseys and precious little chance to wear them, I had to take advantage of the opportunity.

I went to the Tuesday game by myself, although I met Sitcom Kelly and her Sitcom Mother and Sister, for pre-game beers.  But they were sitting under the deck to the right of home.  I had a seat 14 rows behind the Pirates’ dugout.  

The view from Section 52.

As such, there were a good many Pirates fans around me.  I ended up talking to one guy from Pittsburgh who was there with his family.

Pirates first baseman John Jaso tossed the kid a ball when coming off the field. 

John Jaso

I could have had a shot at it but Dad had me boxed out.  (Don’t judge… the kid will probably lose it down a sewer somewhere.)

So about halfway through the game, the Dad gets a message that we were both just on TV, on the Pittsburgh local broadcast.  I thought that might happen.  The local production likes to find their fans with the team on the road, and I was sitting in a cluster of them. 

Then whoever was watching the TV feed took a screen shot and sent it.  I had him text it to me, and voila.  Here I am on TV again…

While I am talking to the Man in the Yellow Hat, that does not give you license to call me Curious George.

Pirates took a 2 run lead into the 9^th, but the O’s tied it on Jonathan Schoop’s 2^nd HR of the night…

I couldn’t complain; it was a heck of a game.

The next night, Sweetpea came with me.  We had seats in the club level, looking down the first baseline.

Our view from Section 244.

We chilled there for a couple of innings before going back to forage for food.  As we walked around, we ran right into my brother and his friends, talking to my brother-in-law from Cincinnati and his friends.  I knew they were both going to be there, but I was waiting for my brother to give me the high sign to join him in his company suite and figured I’d triangulate w/ the BIL at that point.  So they beat me to it.  We hung out and chilled there for a while and then watched the end of the game from the suite.

Sweet view from the Suite.  And it looks even better with a couple of crab cakes on your plate.

This time, the Pirates gave up a 4-run lead in the bottom of the 9^th.  The O’s tied it on a homer by rookie, (and Sweetpea’s favorite player) Trey Mancini, and won it in the 11th on another Mancini HR.

While the endings didn’t go my way, both games were wildly entertaining.  No complaints from me.  Now I’m back to “Let’s Go O’s!”

Dimming the Bat Signal

It was with a great nostalgic sadness that I learned of the passing of Adam West, TV’s venerable Batman, from the campy 60s series.

I say it’s campy now, but at the time, when I was in early grade school, that shit was deadly serious.  Every afternoon, my brother and I would race home to see who the big villain was this week, or how Batman and Robin were going to get out of diabolical deathtrap in which they were ensnared.  When the show was over, we’d run outside to relive the episode, sometimes with our “official” bat capes and masks, sometimes with a dish towel tucked into our collars.

It wasn’t until I watched some of the episodes again, as an adult, that I saw how genuinely funny it was.  There was so much stuff I missed.

For example, in one episode, the police were questioning a bad buy in an empty room, save for one giant un-shaded light over the crook’s head.  On the wall, there was a sign by the switch: “SUBTLE INTERROGATION LIGHT.”

I’m happy that Mr. West made peace with his caped alter-ego, and was a regular at comic conventions and the like.  I’m sure he knew that his continuing safety was paramount to a legion of dish-toweled little kids like me.

Goodbye, Batman.  A grateful nation thanks you!

The Pen-Ultimate Series

So, what was it that happened last night?  Oh yeah, the Pittsburgh Penguins won the mudda fuckin’ Stanley Cup for the 5^th time!  Holy crap!

But I have to start the story from last Thursday night.

I’d been having some trouble with my TV lately.  When I was watching Game 4 of the finals, all of a sudden the picture started freezing with a kind of strobe effect.  It made the screen appear like it was bleached out.  There was no depth or richness to the color.  It was annoying but I eventually “fixed” it by turning it off and on a few times.  That worked for the rest of the game and it stayed fixed throughout the week, and even during the day on Thursday, when I had the Comey hearing on.

(I was going to write some stuff about that, but what more is there to say at this point?  The Republicans just want to pretend President 45 was vindicated, claim vindication and move on.  So what else is new?)

Anyway, when I put the game on Thursday night, the problem returned, and turning the TV off and on didn’t do anything this time.  I was forced to watch the game like I was looking through a gauzy linen.  And that was a shame because this was the first game of the series where the Pens looked like themselves, winning 6-0.

Through the process of elimination, I determined that this was a problem with the TV, and not the network or the cable. 

I’d been poring over new TV models for the last couple years.  I got my TV, my first flat screen, a 46” Samsung, in 2009, just in time to watch the Pens win their third Cup.  With the way the tech has advanced since then, I've been longing for an upgrade, but you know how it is… I had a perfectly good TV and other things to replace kept arising.  (Washer, dryer, car, bedroom TV…)  I couldn’t justify the expense.

AND, if and when I join forces with Sweetpea, she already has an extremely nice TV.  I was planning on just ditching mine when the time came.

But now, my luck had just run out.  I’d have to replace the TV and there was no way I was going to get one delivered before Sunday.  (Yes, I know I could have just gone and bought one from whatever was in stock, but I A) wanted someone to set up the remote, B) set up the Wi-Fi (because this would be my first “smart TV”), C) take the old TV away.)

I went out to my local Best Buy on Saturday afternoon and made the purchase; a Samsung 7000 series 55” Smart TV.  And as I figured, it can’t be delivered until next week.

As I’ve written before, I’ve been spending my weekends with Sweetpea, but I’ve always come back home on Sunday night, before the start of the work week.  So if I were to watch the game at her place, I could either come home very late or just stay over another night.

Easy call.  I just had to bring clothes for work on Monday and decide on game attire.

For away games, I’ve been wearing my newest white Malkin #71 jersey, but the Penguins lost the last three times.  I felt it was time to do something daring, so I eschewed wearing any jersey and went with an old Pens t-shirt… the one I wore during Game 7 of the 2009 Cup Finals when the Pens won the Stanley Cup vs Detroit.

 It had a reliable recent history too because I’d also worn it during the Blue Jackets series when watching an away game at Sweetpea’s house, and the Pens won. 

So, it worked out, but damn if it wasn’t stressful.  As the score remained 0-0 throughout the 3^rd period, I just kept thinking, “Please not overtime, please not overtime…”   Sweetpea had already gone to bed so it was only me there, living and dying on every shot.

Then, as you may know, Patrick Hornqvist knocked in a bank shot off the back of the goalie with a minute and a half left in the game.  I celebrated as loud as I could, without waking up the rest of the house.  Startled the hell out of the dog, though.

And that was all she wrote… the Pens added an empty netter but the result was already locked in.  My Penguins are the first team to repeat as Stanley Cup champions since 1998.

In retrospect, it was good that I was watching the game alone.  Watching the Pens skate the Cup always turns me into a sloppy mess, especially when it’s this guy’s turn.

Le Magnifique.

Congratulations to Sid, Geno, Phil, Flower, Murray, Kuny, and all the “kids.”  Great season.  Another amazing coaching job from Mike Sullivan. 

And as my nephew texted me, “Suddenly games in DC just became much easier to go to.”

Dessert Week

That’s what I call my annual vacation during the week after Christmas: Dessert Week. 

All year long I go to work like a good boy and take very little time off, compared to the amount I’m given.  By the end of the year, I start burning off vacations days by taking off Fridays or Mondays.  Then that last week off is like having a nice sweet dessert after a long slog through the year.  (Especially 2016, which was pretty much of a shit sandwich.*)

* Other than the Penguins winning the Stanley Cup!

So I’ve been off since 12/23 and it’s been great.  In theory, laying around for a week sounds fun, but I still feel like I have to accomplish something, which then allows me to slack off for the rest of the day.  So here’s what I did all week:

Friday, 12/23

Went to go see the movie “Passengers.”  (OK, sometimes all I accomplish is getting out of the house to see a movie… and make a liquor store run.)  Despite the bad reviews, I liked the movie. Nothing wrong with going to see two of the best looking young actors in Hollywood (Chris Pratt and Jennifer Lawrence) put on a sci-fi/action love story.  I think the bad reviews are based on the reviewers wanting the movie to be something else.

I also started reading the new Bruce Springsteen autobiography, which I got for my birthday.  (Thanks, Mom!)  Good stuff!

Saturday, 12/24

Went to Jilly’s, my local sports bar, to watch the pre-Christmas slate of NFL games.  What do you want from me; it’s the weekend.

Sunday, 12/25 Christmas Day

Went to my brother’s house for Christmas dinner, gift exchange, and the Steelers/Ratbirds game.  (Not necessarily in that order.)

Monday, 12/26

I recently gave my bedroom TV to a friend who needed one, (and I wanted to upgrade), so my big project for the day was to replace it.  I found a deal on a Samsung 40” smart TV at BJ’s Wholesale and figured I’d best take advantage while my membership still stands.  (I didn’t use it much this year so I’ll probably let it lapse.) 

New TV in place.  And I can still see it from the can, via my specially mounted mirror.

I also got some lunch and went grocery shopping at the nearby Wegman’s, the existence of which is the primary reason I’ll let my BJ’s membership elapse.  After bring home my haul, I went out to happy hour at Jilly’s, mostly to be seen with my new Steelers shirt and huge victory grin.  (I prefer to gloat without really gloating.  I know the Steelers beat the Ratbirds, and they know it, so I don’t really need to say anything.  Usually, they just see me looking happy and go, “God dammit…”)

Tuesday, 12/27

This was my only total “veg” day.  Didn’t get dressed, didn’t even shower.  But I did bang out the previous blog post.  Watched the Penguins that night and continued to read my Bruce book during commercials and intermissions. That’s my version of multi-tasking.

Wednesday, 12/28

To me, this was the big day of the week, because my nephew Daniel was coming to visit me.  Now that he has his driver’s license, AND is off from school and work, AND doesn’t have some sporting event to participate in, I figured this was the week to do something.  I asked him back in October if he could set a day aside during break, to come visit.  He was agreeable.  And then over Christmas, I said, “Pick a day and time.”

He chose Wednesday at 2 and I told him I’d hold him to it. 

The reason I wanted him to come up is so we could talk music.  I referred to it as taking him to music school.  We talk music all the time when I visit, but this was a chance for me to play him some stuff and get instant feedback.

But music wasn’t the only subject I wanted to get into… I don’t think I’ve mentioned it here but I’m writing what I call, “The Bachelor’s Guide to Living.”  It’s an idea the two of us have kicked around for years.  I’d been giving him all my best Uncle Advice about anything from living alone to how to fold a game jersey, and realized it would be a good idea to write it all down.

A year or so ago, I started putting ideas down on the notepad app in my iPhone.  Then we’d be talking and I’d say something and we’d be like, “That’s gotta go in the book.”

Earlier this year, I transcribed all my notes into something coherent, so now I have about 36 pages on Word.  OK, maybe not so much a book, as a pamphlet.

Anyway, the point is that I could show him some of the idea and systems I’ve created (and written about) first hand.  I believe it’s much better to show than tell.  Doing both together is optimal.

So just within the realm of showing him how to make pork chops, I could demonstrate how to arrange a kitchen so that everything is where you actually use it, how to try to only touch something once (rather than setting it aside and have to come back to it later), how to keep a short reference list of common seasoning combinations and cooking times, what he could buy for low-effort side dishes, as well as actually prepare and cook the pork chops.  (They were to die for, by the way.  I apologize for eating them before I thought to take pictures.

The day went amazingly.  He came at 2:00 and left at 7:00, well fed and all coached up.  It was the highlight of my week.  Next time I see him, I’ll hand over a thumb drive containing all the songs we sampled.  And my hope is that by the time he graduates high school this spring, I’ll have a printed copy of the book for him.

Thursday, 12/29

I’d previously bought a Jiffy Lube oil change from Groupon, and it wasn’t until after purchase I found that it was only good at select locations.  One of them was about 15 minutes away, but I’d originally intended to use it at the shop down the street.  So I went out bright and early, at the crack of 10 AM, to get my oil changed.  I knew there was a Mickey D’s down the block so I built an Egg McMuffin breakfast into my schedule.  All went well with the breakfast and the oil change, but when they did my tire rotation, they found I needed brake pads.  I suspected they would; when I got my new tires last year, the shop told me the pads were pretty low.  No biggie now; I’m glad the car is all fixed up for winter.

When I got home, I hit a couple more chores I had on my list of to-dos.  I did my semi-annual shredding of the paid bills and then bagged up some clothes to give away.  It was only four grocery bags full; not four garbage bags like a couple years back.  I just needed to free up some shelf space and a few hangars in my closet.

That evening I made a super swordfish and watched the last two Hunger Games movies (again).

Friday, 12/30

I fixed a nagging Outlook problem (the email processing app, not my attitude), did some more work on Daniel’s book, and assembled my annual ticket collage.

My largest assortment yet, although it probably has the least variety.  I should work on that.

What you see there are:

·        26 Orioles tickets (new personal record for one season)

·        18 movie tickets

·        1 ticket each to a Steelers, Penguins, Mudhens, and Buckeyes game

·        The parking pass to my Ratbird Company Suite game two weeks ago (because I lost the ticket stub)

·        1 fishing pass from my summer trip to Ohio

·        Not pictured: my pass to the Nation Aquarium, which I forgot to include and now everything’s put away.

Not a bad year’s worth of activities.

Saturday, 12/31 New Year’s Eve

Finally put on the new flannel penguin sheets I got a month ago.

Happiness is a fresh bed… with penguin sheets.

Also did some more work on the book and whipped up some red beans and rice, which should cover at least two more dinners.

Later I went down to Jilly’s to watch Ohio State play Clemson in the Fiesta Bowl.

This was pretty much the highlight of the game because Clemson couldn’t score on the coin flip.

I ended up leaving at halftime.  Not only were my Buckeyes getting crushed, I could see that I was basically alone in the bar.  All my friends and regulars were gone and there was no one in there but couples.  Senior citizen couples.  I believe it’s better to be home alone on New Year’s Eve than being alone in public on New Year’s Eve.  And I got to watch the end of the Penguins/Canadiens hockey game, in which the Pens tied the game with under a minute to go and then won in overtime.

Sunday, 1/1 New Year’s Day

Back to Jilly’s for a full slate of NFL football, featuring the Steelers JV team making a comeback win over the Cleveland Brahnies.  (The Steelers sat a number of their best players.)  Also, the Ratbirds looked terrible in their ho-hum loss to the Bengals.

I finished up the Springsteen book Sunday night.  It was a good read if you like The Boss.

Monday, 1/2

Last day before I have to go back to work.  Already I put up my new calendar, which due to its unexpectedly large size, meant I had to switch some other wall hangings around.  I had to use tools, too!  (Sadly, no power-screwdriver.  It wasn’t charged up.) 

I’d also been having trouble with my new TV because the picture would dim as soon as I turned out the bedroom lights.  Since those are the only conditions under which I use the bedroom TV, I had to look up how to turn off the auto-dimming.  Yesterday I tried just going through all the menu options but nothing appeared applicable.  The Google helped me today, though, so I’m good to go. 

All that’s left to do today is post this bad boy and then go make the steak I have thawing out.

Then tomorrow… Gah!  Back to the salt mines.  At least we open with a 4-day week.

Good luck to you on enjoying a healthy and prosperous 2017.

Director’s DVD Commentary: I’m fully aware that my list of “chores” is basically nothing compared to those who have a house, spouse, kids or even a pet.  So sue me for reaping the benefits of living alone.

Of Sickness and Hockey

It’s been a rough week and a half.

I started coming down with my annual cold on Cyber Monday, with a tickle in my throat.  That begat the dreaded post-sinus drip, which means I had to sleep in my easy chair if I wanted to keep from choking myself awake every ten minutes. 

More throat crud Tuesday.  Wednesday and Thursday I worked from home, so at least I wasn’t bothering anyone with my sneezing and honking.  I was already scheduled off on Friday and Monday, so I knew I had time to get back on my feet.

The thing was, the reason I took the days off is because I had plans to go to Pittsburgh for the weekend, with my brother and his sons.  So all week I was worried about not being able to go, or even worse, going and getting everyone sick.

Our original purpose of the trip was to see the Penguins play the Red Wings on Saturday night and then the Steelers/Giants game on Sunday.  We’d stay downtown for two nights and come home Monday.

The problem was the tickets.  My brother picked up some Pens tickets easily, but the Steelers tickets proved to be too expensive, due to the popularity of the visiting New York Giants team.  As a comparison, for the next two home games against the Ratbirds and Bengals, two division rivals, secondary market tickets started around $80.  For the Giants game, they started around $200… and that’s for nosebleed seats.  Then factor in the second night’s stay, with pumped up football prices and you have quite a chunk of change.  (Especially for my brother, who has to cover the boys.)

So we dialed our plans back to just the hockey game.

By Saturday, I felt tolerable and I was pretty sure I wasn’t contagious any longer. The contagious part is usually early in an illness.  As long as I didn’t cough globs on anyone, I figured they should be fine.  I packed myself a travel bag for the car, with cough drops, Kleenex and hand sanitizer.  I also made sure I coughed into my sleeve and blew my nose away from everyone.  Sadly, I had to refrain from my customary hugs for the boys.  I just hope my precautions worked.

Before checking in, we went straight to the west side to see the Aunts and Uncle, and met up for lunch, featuring a classic Pittsburgh massive fish sandwich.  (Sorry, no picture this time.)  But it was memorable because that was the last food I’ve been able to taste.

We checked into our rooms with enough time for me to grab a nap before the game. 

We ended up in the 5^th row in the corner, at the end where the Penguins shot twice.  The seats were great, as long as the action was in our end.  At the other end, it was hard to look through the glass at an angle.  Everything looked like a funhouse mirror.  Luckily, there was the overhead scoreboard with a live video feed.

It’s funny; I’d be watching the game up on the board when the action was at the other end, but then forget to look back to the ice when it came down to our end, leaving me craning my neck up to watch a feed of the game that was happening 10 feet in front of me.  I got the hang of it eventually. 

 My brother and the boys decked out in battle jerseys.

The game was great.  The Pens came back from a 3-1 deficit by scoring 4 in the 3^rd period to win 5-3.  Very exciting.  Daniel and I found ourselves in one of the press shots too.

We’re in the upper left corner.  There’s my brother’s elbow and Sam’s elbow right above the rail, then Daniel and me.

We took off early Sunday morning and were home by 11.  I had plans to go to the sports bar to watch the Ratbirds game at 1:00 and the Steelers at 4:30, but I only made it to halftime of the first game.  Only had two beers but I suppose it was the combination with all the cold medicine I’d been taking that made me just want to go right to sleep on the bar.  So I went home and slept straight through the second half before waking up for the Steeler game.

I just laid around on Monday, trying to summon the strength to go back to work on Tuesday.  The cold has pretty much moved to my chest now, so we’re at the disgusting part, where I have to hack great chunks of lung butter into the toilet, just to breathe again.  So much fun.  I’m sure the neighbors just wish I’d hurry up and die already.

But the worst part is that I haven’t been able to taste anything since Saturday, aside from very spicy or very salty.  I expect that when I can’t breathe through my nose, but even when I can, I still can’t taste anything.  I wonder if it’s from the cold medicine or all the gunk. 

All I can say is that it better be temporary, or else I might not have much reason to live. 

Or maybe this could be an opportunity to eat a bunch of stuff that I hate, but is good for me… (Nahhh)

Both Tuesday and Wednesday, I went into work, went as long as I could, and came home early.  No sense killing myself.  But I did want to get in and clean up some stuff.

That’s all I’ve got for now.  Sorry, there are no big idea or caustic rants today; I’m not up to forming complex thoughts just yet.  So let me just drop a few more pictures from the game…

Our view, from section 110.

Everyone looking up.

Penguins goalie, Marc-Andre Fleury

I don’t know how goalies even move with all that stuff on.

Penguins TV analyst Bob Errey and Radio analyst Phil Bourque, between the benches. Both are wearing jerseys celebrating the Stanley Cup Championship teams of 1991 and 1992, of which they were both members.

Now I need another nap…