Plinko or Ice Hockey?

Hockey again...

So I'm watching the Wild game tonight, and Calgary gets a goal by intentionally re-directing the puck into the net with a skate, while voluntarily in the goal crease before the puck.

I'm not too much of a purist, but this is a bad combination. I suppose the rules that allow it stem from the infamous Brett Hull goal that won a Stanley Cup, plus the NHL trying to get more scoring to help with fan interest.

I don't intend on making this a long "what the NHL needs to do" post. I just want to point out that it does not need to allow ridiculous goals just to increase scoring. They won't gain any fans with this, and they'll lose paying fans like myself.

I'm in favor of scaling back the goaltending equipment size, or even enlargening the nets by three inches in height and width. (Yes, I have my reasons for such blasphemy.)

But encouraging silly goals like the one I saw tonight? No way.

St. Paul Hockey Article Triggers Memories of Heartbreak

There was an article in Friday's St. Paul Pioneer Press Dispatch, Fairgrounds Coliseum a host of many hockey memories, that was a nice read on the history of ice hockey at the State Fair Coliseum. It brought back many fond memories just thinking of the building, and one painful one.

In the article, author Brian Murphy names the top 5 high school games ever played in the building. I know nothing of Mr. Murphy, but I would guess from his list, he went to high school in the late 1980s. That three of his picks were from 1989 is my first clue. My second is that none are from before 1989, despite the building being used for hockey since 1976. (To be fair, picking only five games from over 30 years is necessarily problematic.)

In my biased opinion, grossly omitted from the list was a section semi-final in 1981 between Alexander Ramsey (my alma mater) and Irondale. Sadly, few except us heartbroken Ramsey alumni (we're talking heartbreak of the Drew Pearson shove-in-the-back level), and the fortunate Irondale faithful, seem to remember that classic. Even though you will run across a story now and again about that Irondale team of '81 and their impressive run, you virtually never hear about the game that springboarded them into State.

The details come exclusively from memory (in a future post, I will go to the county library's microfiche file and record how accurate my memory is). Ramsey led 4-2 late in the game, with something like less than four minutes to go. It could have been 5-2, but a second breakaway goal opportunity was missed, despite the same move made on the goaltender. The puck was lifted over the sprawled goaltender, but also over the net. I also recall one of Ramsey's top defenseman slipping and falling near the blue line, allowing an Irondale player to make a rush and score. (Admittedly, this could have been a memory from a different game. Microfiche might clear that one up.)

An Irondale goal made it 4-3, but then a player (Bayer...first name escapes me) from Irondale was being taunted by Ramsey's "Bleacher Bums" for taking a late penalty. With four seconds left in regulation, and Irondale's goalie pulled, a seemingly harmless shot from the point got past the goaltender (yes, I remember his name, but don't have it in my heart to publish it), tying the score. A few years later, a friend of mine claimed she saw the goaltender look up at the scoreboard just moments before the shot.

Irondale went on to win in overtime, 5-4.

Games like this are often used by some as evidence of "destiny." I'm quite the opposite. Win or lose, I find games like this to be evidence of the randomness of sports, and how one lucky bounce, or one blown call or play (or successful play), can make the difference, rightly or wrongly, in how history is written.

Irondale fans will remember this as one fantastic game. Perhaps it did propel the team into being one of destiny, but the game itself, from this then-Ramsey sophomore's perspective, was one that never should have gotten away.

Despite the revisited scars, I thank Mr. Murphy for the article.

Time Passage

I have a strange fascination with how quickly time passes. Maybe it's no different from every other adult, for I believe virtually every adult has observed how quickly time flies, and how it never ceases to amaze us how it does.

But I think I take my observation a step or too further in that my thoughts are often consumed with the concept (at least once per day). I make it much more complicated than simply noticing that time flies.

Like when I realized I was at my company for my second stint longer than I had been away after my first stint, a total of seven years. The second seven went by much more quickly. (I'm about four years into another seven.)

Or just in noticing, like I'm sure many do, how much more quickly the next high school class reunion seems to come up.

Or this: My 14-year-old son has taken a strong liking to '80s rock bands, some of whom I have seen live. We were talking about possibly going to see either AC/DC, whom I saw in 1983, or Motley Crue, whom I saw in 1984. (Neither were ever my favorites; I mainly wanted the concert t-shirts to impress girls. No, it didn't work one bit.)

So my son wants to see bands I saw 25 years ago. Aside from thinking how cool that is, and how it doesn't seem like 25 years, I couldn't get over how interesting it was (to me), that my first concert was Elvis Presley. Interesting not because it's a pretty cool story to tell (that my first concert ever was the King), but that I saw him in 1973, a mere 18 years after he broke through in American culture.

He was the king, he seemed so ancient, he was the guy my really old parents listened to in the olden days. And yet those olden days were no more than 18 years prior. Now my son wants to see a band I saw over 25 years ago. And that I first listened to even longer ago. And yet he wants to see these old farts not because they are legends, but because their music is still as good and fresh to him now as any other contemporary bands.

No, this is much more than noticing that time flies; this is dwelling on all of the weird nuances of time passing, and making strange comparisons of time passing in different time periods and blah blah blah.

I guess my son's love of '80s rock makes sense when I think about how, when other kids were listening to AC/DC when I was in high school in the '80s, I was into the Beatles, whom my folks never got into. The apple hasn't fallen to far here.

Anyway, I doubt this phenomenon is unique to many others. But I would guess I'm in small company among those who can spend an hour or two just thinking about it, usually while I'm driving or watching a ball game.

One good thing about being my age is that I think that maybe, just maybe, the increase in speed at which time seems to pass is stalling. That is, the last, say, four years, didn't seem to go much faster than the previous four. I'll let you know what I think in my blog entry on this day in 2012.

If I only had a Six-Pack to show off...

I did a very "guy" thing over the weekend. I washed a wool sweater and put it in the dryer. Accidentally, of course, as I honestly do know better.

It is a size L. The tag still says so, but the tag is now incorrect. My wife recommended we throw it in the wash again, and then stretch it out to flat dry it.

She was quite pleasant about my gaffe, considering she bought the sweater for me, and I've only worn it twice. Just for fun, I'll try wearing it before stretching it.

(Reading that last sentence to myself almost sounded redundant.)

Passing up a Dream...For Now

There are three golf courses I have vowed to play before I die, unless I die young: Pebble Beach, The Old Course at St. Andrews, and the TPC at Sawgrass.

When my wife informed me of the possibility of playing one of them, the one (Pebble Beach), I was naturally excited.

Here's how it happened: She called me up at work asking me what I would do if I found myself with an unexpected couple grand (yes, dollars). Because she knows one of my lifetime dreams is to play Pebble Beach, she thought I would answer with a round at Pebble Beach.

I didn't really come up with anything clever. Had I been completely honest, I would have said I'd put it to the mortgage.

I would soon learn it wasn't just a hypothetical question. She had learned that her former job, at the company where we met and at which I still work, she was going to get back pay for overtime hours worked on her job that was designated a salaried position, but should have been hourly.

So we talked, and I did some research, and we decided to take that trip to Pebble Beach. We have since changed our minds, or at least put it on hold, but not because of the cost. Our best bet cost-wise is to go this winter. But because the average high in Pebble Beach is 59 this time of year, and my wife is a fair weather golfer, we are shooting for May.

To reserve a tee time at Pebble more than 24 hours in advance, you have to stay at least two nights at one of the Pebble Beach resort lodges. The cheapest one this time of year would be $325/night, thanks to a winter promotion. That would bring the round of golf to $1640 for the two of us. If we wait until, say, May, it will be over $2000, because of higher in-season resort rates. Airfare of course would be extra, and people who know insist a caddie is a must for the complete Pebble experience, at $75/bag plus tip.

Another alternative, which I wanted to do, is to take our chances and get a timeshare in the area by trading a week we have at Lake Carlos Villas through RCI. I have read that, because of the economy, not all tee times are being booked at Pebble, and thus a non-resort guest has a good chance of picking up a tee time within 24-hours of intended play. To fly out and take that chance is a gamble, but right now seems to be a good one, because of the non-prime season and economy. In May, it may not be so easy.

Harvey Mackay once wrote that a dream is a bargain at any price. I tend to agree, if you can afford that price. But I can see my wife's point of view. Even though I don't mind playing golf in the fifties, if you're going to dish out that kind of dough for a once-in-a-lifetime round of golf, you may as well pay a little extra and fully enjoy it.

Here's hoping for economic recovery, but slowly enough so that I can take my chances and get a last-minute tee time at Pebble Beach in May.

A Russian Twist to my Workouts

My wife and I went shopping on Black Friday, and then again on Cyber Monday. We didn't go crazy, and it was all under our budget. But we did buy for ourselves as well as others. We sacrificed the real killer deals in order to avoid the early morning Friday madness.

One of the things I did not get a deal on was a kettlebell. You can Google it, but if you don't know what a kettlebell is, imagine a round purse filled with lead. In my case, 45 pounds of lead.

It's a "Russian Secret" piece of exercise equipment I've been reading about from Pavel Tsatsosomethingorother for quite a few years now. It's becoming more mainstream, but the problem Saturday was that where I found them on sale, Sports Authority, the heaviest weight in stock was 30 pounds. So I paid full price at the Bloomington Dick's Sporting Goods to get a 45-pounder at full price, which was still less than anyplace online.

Why 45 pounds? Ego, of course. In a recent fitness magazine, there were recommended weights for a person's first kettlebell. "Average man" was recommended to get a 35-pounder, "strong man" was 44 pounds, and "strength athlete" was 53 pounds. (I'm not sure why the strange gaps in weights...probably because many companies make these lead purses in metric weights, or something like that.)

I at least showed a little humility in not getting the 53-pounder.

Anyway, I'm still feeling the effects of my first kettlebell workout two nights ago. Four supersets of 10 Sumo lifts and 10 "swings," as recommended for a person's first kettlebell workout in the same magazine. It was aerobic as much as it was anaerobic. I used a few muscles in ways I haven't in quite a while.

Supposedly, when I get "hooked" on kettlebell workouts, I will want to upgrade by adding a 53-pounder to the mix, even reaching 70 pounds some day.

We'll see how it goes. I may opt for a Joey Tribbiani-type man purse instead.

Winter Golf, Computer Style

With the 2009 golf season still several months away, and my most recent round having been played almost two months ago now, I'm getting a little stir crazy.

Fortunately, I have the best golf computer game of all time to keep me buzy, and I'm not talking about Tiger Woods.

My Links 2001 still is much more enjoyable to me than any of the Tiger Woods offerings. I love the realism, with a couple minor exceptions, such as the too-long hang times on full shots.

I also enjoy it because, as a golf game should be, the better you get, the harder the game actually is. That is, the "beginner" settings make it intentionally easy to play. Once you learn, you can raise your own bar to the more difficult Pro and Champion levels.

The Tiger Woods series has it backwards, where your player gets better as your own skills improve, and the game then becomes easier to play, far too easy for a golf purist who is looking for an accurate simulation of the real game.

That said, I have heard the recent version(s) of Tiger Woods has/have the option to play a more difficult, "pure" version of the game. I'm not too fond of easy-to-get, straight, 350-yard drives in a video game. I prefer the 275 yard drives of Links golf (longer with the wind and downhill of course).

I'll have to get the Tiger Woods 2009 for the Wii. I'm encouraged by what I've heard, but I will always be bummed that Links is no longer made or being updated.

Making Up Lost Sleep

I saw something on the news the other night that made me feel quite good: You can actually "make up" lost sleep time.

I'll try to find a link. Basically, this dispells the old wives' tale that you can't make up for it.

I used to argue with my ex-wife about this. If I had a week of little sleep (5-6 hours/night for example), I'd try to sleep in on weekends to make it up. Empirical evidence always told me that it worked...I would feel much better having slept in rather than just getting eight hours on those weekends.

She insisted that you couldn't make up the lost sleep. We didn't have Snopes back then, so urban myths and other common held beliefs were left at that. I'm right again.

I was always "right" in our arguments, which is probably why we are divorced. I'm not right as often with my wife now.

Either I've changed, or I married a smarter woman this time.

(False dilemma: it's actually a bit of both.)

Waste Management Part II

My last post about garbage was about why I was "dumping" Waste Management. This time, it's about how I managed to dump my waste.

I imagine I am not alone in this. If you set your garbage on the curb once a week, and if you live long enough, it will probably happen to you at least once: I backed into and knocked over my garbage yesterday morning.

It was actually the recyclables bin. I don't think any neighbors saw it happen, but at least one drove by while I was cleaning it up.

I'm sure they laughed, which is good. If I can make one person's day every day, I've lived a pretty good life.

This makes me tied with my wife now, as we've both backed into the garbage once.

Paperboy Memories

I was looking at a Wikipedia entry of my old high school, which noted some of its most famous alum. (Richard Dean Anderson and Loni Anderson for example.) I'm not there, yet...

Missing from the list was a classmate of mine, and, coincidentally, fellow Alexandria, MN native, Peter Krause. Peter was a terrific guy to have known in junior high and high school, and even work with for a while after high school at the old Har Mar Cinemas 11.

The Wiki entry was for Roseville Area High School. In fact, I and the three others above went to the former Alexander Ramsey High School, back when Roseville had two high schools, the other being Frank B. Kellogg.

Anyway, also missing was probably the most infamous graduate, Ming Sen Shiue, who kidnapped a former teacher of his, as well as her daughter. He also allegedly murdered a young boy, apparently because he had witnessed the kidnapping. A recollection from Shiue's attorney can be found here.

The two would escape from his Roseville home, which was on my paper route. On the afternoon of their escape, there were news reporters and cop cars around the house. This was back when St. Paul had both a morning and afternoon paper. He wasn't a subscriber.

I recall on a previous day, while hanging out at a nearby friend's house, Shiue and friends were running motorcycles (or maybe just one) very loudly. Other than that, at least in the days leading to the escape, the house seemed almost vacant. We would of course learn why.

Shortly after the incident, his mom moved into the house, and became a subscriber. She was a very sweet lady whom I felt very badly for.

Don McLean wrote the hit song "American Pie" about delivering papers with bad news about the Buddy Holly et al plane crash - "the day the music died." That afternoon jn Roseville was my Don McLean moment.

Perhaps someday I'll write a song about it. Or at least a boring blog entry. Wait...

Are you ready for some...Women's Pro Bowling?

Sticking to my promise of finding better things to do than watch the Vikings, on this rare beautiful day in Minnesota in November, I am...watching women's bowling.

It's the fledgling resurrection of women's pro bowling, and I am rooting for it to succeed. There are two bowlers, neither of whom I know anything about, facing off for the title. One is pretty; the other not so much.

Being the predictable pig of a guy that I am, I am cheering for the pretty one.

In my defense, a sex symbol in women's bowling might help it succeed. But I don't think she's quite that pretty.

My real reason for cheering for her is that her style is more of a "stroker," while her opponent is a "cranker," and I appreciate that style more.

I'm not making that up, sicko. Get your mind out of the gutter and Google it.

Banking on a Healthy 2009

I've decided to roll the dice a little during open enrollment (for health insurance at my work) this year. For the first time in...ever?...health insurance is not going up for us if we keep last year's plan. But this year, despite having five kids, I have decided to take a chance and raise the deductible and raise the maximum out-of-pocket expenses on my insurance.

The more kids one has, the greater the chances something expensive could go wrong regarding their health. But worst-case scenario (money wise, not health-wise, heaven forbid) is that we would end up spending $11,000 out-of-pocket this year, including deductibles. That would pretty much drain our non-retirement reserves, unless it happened after a couple things mature.

The plus of course is that our monthly premiums will go down. I'm gambling on good health in 2009 for the whole family. I'm hoping for it, too, and not just because of the money.

Tough Night at the Lanes

Dang, did bowling suck tonight. I bowled a 548 off games of 165, 182, and 201. Our first place team took only 7 out of 28 points. If I am ever going to make the comeback* I want in this game, I will need to get my current equipment re-drilled and get some new equipment to boot. I will also need to simply bowl more. Or I should just learn to be happy with a 548, which hasn't been the case in about 25 years.

But I learned a couple things tonight that I wouldn't have years ago, so that's a good thing. Unfortunately, one of them, not to be afraid of the far inside line, I didn't figure out until late in the third next.

We'll get 'em next time.

* This is somewhat of a misnomer, as to make a comeback, it is presumed that one actually was somewhere desirable to begin with. With a career high average of just over 200, and only two honro games (290 and 300) to my credit, that's hardly accomplishing anything in this sport. And yes, I called it a "sport."

Homersota Jumps The Shark

When I first heard of the Web site Homersota.com, I loved the idea and couldn't wait to check it out. This was over a year ago, and for the most part, it didn't disappoint. Some of the regulars mentioned, such as Mike Max and Dave Lee, were certainly deserving of the ribbing. But over time, I've found it to be a good idea that, unfortunately, really isn't done very well.

I remember first visiting Jumptheshark.com some ten years ago, and while it, too, has become a more clever idea than the actual entertainment value of visiting it provides, it at least is good for many a chuckle and even somewhat interesting thought (as much as pop culture can provide, anyway).

While I am probably in no position to criticize a good idea, while I sit here on my boring, free blog, I think Homersota.com has jumped the shark for, among others, the following reasons, in no particular order:

1) The most obvious reason is the lack of updates. You used to be able to find a Homer of the Week; now it's Homer of the Month, and the most recent entry is July 2008.

2) Questionable sources. Unlike the political site Mediamatters.org, where even if you disagree with the authors, you are at least provided with links, in context, to the original source of the story. Homersota tidbits often seem like they came from a friend of a friend who heard it from someone.

3) Questionable opinions. It's everyone's right of course, but to wit:

Honoring an example non-homerism from "this month" (July 2008): Some blunt commentary from columnist Patrick Reusse as he stated Coach Tim Brewster was “delusional” and that his team would not win a Big Ten game in 2008. (Snide remarks: Hindsight isn't just 20/20. While the Gophers are a pleasant surprise at 2-1 in the Big Ten thus far, and 6-1 overall, I don't see how any thinking person who follows the Gophers actually believed they would not win a Big Ten game this year. This type of non-homerism does not deserve positive reinforcement; it deserves ridicule.)

And how about this supposed example of homerism (from June): “Shooter” Walters wrote that Joe Mauer would be great at pitching to teammate Justin Morneau if he were to participate in the All-Star weekend’s home run contest. (Snide remarks: Context, please. And is this among the best you could find for a whole month? I think it would be very cool had Mauer pitched to Morneau, and I'd bet he'd have thrown more strikes than Morneau saw, despite ending up winning. Any Twins fan who saw the HR Derby this year knows what I mean.)

4) For the same reason I've never been a big Tom Barnard of KQRS fan, the personal jabs bug me on the site. I'd rather see the homerism made fun of than the actual people. (Barnard has made a very nice living out of basically reading us the newspaper and making fun of people just, well,... just because he knows they're idiots.) There needs to be more substance, context, etc. to make it that personal. But then, maybe I'm being too Minnesota nice here.

There is time to turn it around at Homersota.com, however, and it's certainly better than no Homersota.com at all. There still is a lot of good humor and plenty of things with which I agree on the site. Plus, I like the drawings. It just seems that as for the periodical updates, the author has been getting a little lazy. There is plenty of homerism to report on; let's hope Homersota.com can un-jump the shark.

Hmmm...that gives me an idea. Think of a show that jumped the shark, but then recovered for the rest of its run. That would be a good idea for a new Web site. Like maybe if Happy Days had gotten better after Joni and Chachi got married. (I know, it didn't, and of course they spun off to a new show...but stay with me here.) Then you could have a term like, "Married Chachi."

So you could say, "Yeah, that show really jumped the shark with that one episode, but then it married Chachi the next season, so it was good again."

I've got some work to do with this latest early retirement idea of mine. Meanwhile, here's hoping Homersota.com marries Chachi.

Kegling Again

Sad to say, but through much of high school, the Alexander Ramsey High School bowling league on Fridays was about all I looked forward to, at least during the winter months. Now, after a five-year absence from bowling in leagues, I have joined a league in Apple Valley.

The nice thing about this league is that it is three-man teams, which means you are done in about an hour-and-a-half. Five-man teams are a bit too much, because you sit and wait so much. I think four-man teams are ideal, because it is still nice to socialize at the lanes, but if I were to choose between three and five, I definitely prefer three.

It's also nice that there is no smoking in the bowling establishments anymore.

I am only bowling part-time, perhaps once or twice a month. The main thing I want to make sure of is that I get 21 games in by season's end so I'm eligible for handicap tournaments. So far, I've bowled one week.

My intent was to keep a lot of fun stats on bowling this year, but I've temporarily misplaced my makeshift score sheet from my first week. I scribbled it on a torn corner of "The Metro Bowler," a publication only slightly more interesting to non-bowlers than blog posts about bowling.

I do remember my scores: 206, 195, 206, for a 607 series. What was odd, and very un-like me historically, is that I had only one open the whole night, a Greek Church in the second game. My spare shooting has never been my strong point, but I am going about it differently this year. I will go after all 10-pin, 6-pin, and 6-10 leaves with a 13-pound "house" ball. A plastic ball with a conventional grip won't hook (much), and at that weight is easy to control. So far so good, but I've got to string more strikes together next time.

Hopefully, before my next league night, I'll have some new equipment to use and talk about. I'll "spare" you for now...if you've made it this far, that's pretty good.

Random Thoughts on the Twins' Season

My mind is racing a mile a minute thinking about the season that could have (should have been). The negative and positive, mostly the former, but in no particular order:

1. Thanks for saving the money by not signing Torii or Johan, Messrs. Pohlad. Sure would have sucked to have that extra attendance at premium ticket prices in the post-season, eh? Enjoy your new stadium we gave you, cheapskates.

2. Let's hope the young kids that comprise this team not only learn from the experience, but that it makes them hungry to finish the job next year.

3. Justin....hello? You there?

4. I highly recommend watching the final outs of an elimination game with the sound off. It somehow helped lessen my anger and just keep it at a mild depression.

5. Blackburn had Thome struck out his first time up, but the ump didn't give it to him. It wasn't even one of those close ones...the ump simply blew it. I wonder whether Thome would have seen the meat pitch he hit 450+ feet had that not happened. (Yeah, I'm reaching a little here. Don't get me wrong, the Twins do not deserve to do anything but play golf and watch baseball on TV this October. But I love to think of the what ifs, even if we had won, especially when it comes to officiating.)

6. Why on earth am I watching Twins Live after the game? A bunch of positive fluff on "this amazing run" in the words of Anthony "How is he in a major market?" LaPanta. Sorry, Anthony, the Twins blew it. It's not an amazing run when every time you get a 1/2 game lead, you stall (or give it right back). Let's hope they learn from it.

7. Even had the Twins won the division, it was far from "magical." 2006 was a magical season. 1987 was a magical post-season. This season was a couple teams hoping the other would lose, including tonight's game. The nice comebacks were far outweighed in this fan's memory by the blown games.

8. Stupid small ball. They are Pirhanas when it works, but let's be on it. At the end of the day (season), they are Punching Judies. Nothing against them personally...the team, Gardy and staff included, did what they could with the talent they have.

9. I've just turned the TV channel finally. Still on all the positive fluff crap and I couldn't take it anymore. "What a year Joe Mauer had," says LaPanta. Puhhllease. A good player had a good year; let's not over-do it. For the record, I am glad he hung on to the batting title. But in a way I'm glad Mourneau lost the RBI title...as long as the team lost the division anyway, that is.

10. Fret not...I'll still sleep like a baby tonight.

T-133 is OK by me

Now that the 2008 MGA Mid-Amateur is over and Adam Dooley has defended his title, I have put most of the negatives behind me (one quad, one triple, no birdies), and am quite pleased to think of the positives. So please, pardon my indulgence as I put my happy thoughts into cyberspace. To wit:

1. The final full-field results show that with a two-day score of 167, I finished +24, 11 strokes out of the cut line. Last year, with a score of 175 on much tougher layouts (Deacon's Lodge and The Classic at Madden's), I finished (if I recall correctly), 14 strokes from making the cut. So I improved on both fronts.

2. The final course stats revealed I did fairly well amongst 224 players who are better than me according to their handicap indexes. Day one stats at Edina CC showed me just over 3 strokes higher than average. I blame my triple-bogey seven on number two, one of only two "others" (scores higher than double bogey) posted on day one.

Day two stats show that my score of 81 at Braemar was about 1.7 strokes higher than average, and I blame my eight on the par four 13th (the only "other" posted on that hole day two).

3. From an original field of 240, trimmed to 236 by Monday, then down to 218 thanks to no-shows, then again to 184 after post-round-one withdrawals, my T-133rd placing actually sits quite well. I don't recall where I finished in the field last year, but I seem to recall it was around 150th.

4. Two rounds, no lost balls. In fact, that makes 3 1/2 rounds of no lost balls for me. Sure helps with the budget.

Ever since my final match in high school golf in 1983, a tournament of 10 teams or so at Hastings Country Club, in which I finished dead last at 100, the only player to not break 100, I've had a thing about just trying not to finish last.

While I fully plan on raising my personal bar next year, for now, 133rd out of 240, or 236, or 218, or 184, isn't that bad. Heck, that's better than I finished in law school, where I also set the personal goal of not finishing last. (Although I would have accepted last. You know the old joke about what you call a guy who finishes last at Med School...)

Next year's State Mid Am is at the Minnesota Valley CC in Bloomington, MN, another course at which I have yet to play, and another site yet to be determined. Here's hoping for a top-130 finish and less than 10 strokes from making the cut (but I'll still put in for a vacation day for day three, just in case...).

86'ed in Edina Means No Golf Wednesday

Day one at the Minnesota State Mid Amateur golf tournament is over, and Adam Dooley leads with a freakish 67. Half the field played at the Edina Country Club, which played significantly more difficult as expected, especially with today's 20+ MPH winds.

Dooley shot his 67 at Edina CC. Good heavens. I shot 86 there. With a little course knowledge and a few better breaks, I could have possibly trimmed it to an 80. But that's pushing it.

Weather permitting, I'm hopeful round two at Braemar will be better tomorrow. Oh, and remember how I was ranked #225 (tied) going into it? I'm sitting at T-175th place after day one. So while I'll have to shoot the round of my life to make the cut for Wednesday's third round, I'm OK with where I'm at. It's a learning experience, and a lot of fun, too.

Some guys with lower handicaps than I didn't break 90 (see round 1 results here). Plus, for the second round in a row, I didn't lose a ball. That's always good. Except that my previous round was a 74, on a course with a 74.2 rating and 133 slope. That made for a stroke differential of -.2, my best ever for a round of 18. The slope differential for my round today will be about 9.4, thanks to a triple bogey which will be recorded as a double for handicap purposes. I would argue, however, that the Edina CC played much more difficult than its 73.3 rating and 140 slope with today's tournament set-up and weather conditions.

If you're not bored with all of this slope differential talk, read more at this site. In short, you'll see, in part, why a five handicapper does not usually shoot five over par.

I'll settle for five over each nine tomorrow, although I can probably do better, even if it's windy like today. Rain, however, is another story. Then again, if it rains and storms tomorrow, maybe I'll get to play Wednesday after all.

News Anchors Lazy

(Prologue: Looking back at my post from September 8, I realize I need to pay better attention to my typos. It is only a meaningless blog, but still, gee whiz...)

Typos on a blog are not a sign of low intelligence. Nor are incomplete sentences spoken by a news anchor. But the latter, the subject of this post, really, really bug me.

When I went to Brown College for Radio and Television Broadcasting, I actually learned quite a little. More importantly, I learned how to learn for the profession.

Some things I learned I abandoned, because I learned how to learn what things I learned I could abandon. (I think that makes sense.) So even though I learned to say, "Twenty-seven minutes after seven o'clock" at Brown, I later learned to say, "Seven-twenty-seven." Important, sophisticated stuff like that.

One thing I learned, however, I never abandoned, yet apparently more and more news anchors have. That is, lead a story with a complete sentence.

Tonight, Mike "Pretty Boy" Pomeranz on KARE-11 led a story with, "A bicyclist dead tonight in Minneapolis." I don't know if that was the exact story; I do think it was about a bicyclist, or a pedestrian, or a human, who maybe died. The point is, it was not a complete sentence.

Why anchors think they need to do this, I do not know. I also don't know if the person who wrote it for the teleprompter wrote it that way, or if the anchor took some liberties.

I suppose the reasoning is similar to why newspaper headlines are not in complete sentences. But that really doesn't make complete sense. The newspaper headline for the same story would likely read, "Minneapolis Bicyclist Killed." That way, bigger letters can be used without filling up so much column space. Plus, just the key words are needed to interest you into reading further. But the only way the anchor economized was by removing the word "is." And if I'm not interested in that story, I can't just move on to the next one; I have to wait until he's done with that one. So he may as well speak in complete sentences from start to finish.

Maybe it's just laziness, much in the same way we always have to abbreviate things, like saying "thx" in an e-mail reply, or one I've done many times, documenting the history of an issue by typing, "Jun 30." (No, that was not a typo, I was making a point of how silly it is to abbreviate such a short month like, oh, never mind...)

Paul Magers was the consummate professional in my book. He even pronounced short-lived the right way! (With the long "I" sound, like "eye"...most people say it the other way.) I think when an anchor begins a story with an incomplete sentence, it is their way of trying to sound more authoritatively "newsy," and thus more professional. To me, it makes them sound no more professional than shuffling papers at their desk going into a commercial break.

I'm Number 225!

Next Monday I will be playing in my second ever Minnesota State Mid-Amateur golf tournament. Amateur means non-pro of course. "Mid" means "30 or older" somehow. Perhaps because it's for people nearing mid-life. Personally, I think it should be at least 35, probably 40, before you start giving age advantages in state tournaments. The Senior tournaments don't start until age 55. No, that's not a typo. The professionals get to play Senior events at age 50, thanks to Arnie, but not the Amateurs, unless they qualify to play in the Open tournaments.

There will be a full field at the Edina Country Club and Braemar (Public) Golf Course, 240 in all. I rank tied for 225th with two others, based on current handicap index. (Don't ask how long it took me to figure that out.) I'm a 5.3; you have to be 6.4 or better to play. My goals last year were to 1) Not embarrass myself, and 2) Not finish last. Sort of a Glen Mason style of play (playing not to lose).

Except for one memorably bad shot, I accomplished #1. I also accomplished goal #2, except that when the newspaper published the results, they cut it off at my score, making it appear that I finished last. That embarrassed me, so I guess in a way I didn't accomplish my goals.

I tee off Monday at noon on hole #10 at Edina CC. It's a long par 5 with out of bounds all along the left side (a street, even). I'm a right-hander who has been fighting a pull-hook all year. Good luck with that one. I'm tempted to use four-iron and play for a working man's par. I don't need to pull-hook three shots out of bounds and take a 12 on the first hole.

That would be embarrassing; and last place would be in reach.

This Time, I Mean It!

At the risk of sounding like a sore loser after the Vikings' underwhelming performance against Green Bay tonight, I must say that this season I may stick to my guns and find more important things to do than watch the Vikings (yardwork before the snow, sledding with the kids, grinding my knuckles on a cheese grater...stuff like that).

My reasoning used to be that the enjoyment of the wins were not worth the time wasted on the losses. Tonight, however, I realized it's a couple more things:

1) The game is just not entertaining enough. I don't know why, but I'm finding football more and more boring. Maybe at 42 I'm just growing out of it.

2) I get particularly upset at officiating in sports these days. There is no reason the officials shouldn't be doing a better job in all pro sports. To wit, on a third down play in the fourth quarter, an obvious defensive pass interference was missed. Instead of a first down and the Vikings continuing to drive to perhaps take the lead, they had to punt, and the Packers scored soon thereafter.

Hey, the better team won, and I recognize when my team is aided by questionable officiating, too. But my blood boils when I see poor officiating, especially when things happen right in fron of their eyes.

In my Sports Law course at William Mitchell College of Law, taught by none other than Clark Griffith (son of Calvin Griffith), much was talked about regarding the "value of the game," but unfortunately, most of it focussed aroung the players and league rules. Very little was discussed around officiating (although I would not be surprised to see the course syllabus revised recently thankd to Tim Donaghy). Again, the better team won tonight, but when one poor call or non-call (and there was a similar one earlier in the game) haa so much potential effect, to me, much of the value of the game is lost.

I used to try to treat bad calls like bad hops and bad bounces, which can also be frustrating, but are easier to cope with. But I couldn't get past the fact that a well-paid human being, who is supposed to be an expert, the best in the biz, can often be so inept as to affect the outcome of a game.

Wow, I'm really ramnling and running off course here. So I'll wrap it up. I once again hereby vow to watch far less pro football this season, and this time I mean it. The reason lies somewhere in the above.

Cheese Curds and Booger Jokes

My wife and I took our boys to the Great Minnesota Get Together today. It's expensive as usual, parking is terrible, the crowds are annoying, making it very slow to get through pushing two toddlers in a double stroller, Williams and Ree were doing the same shtick I first saw them do 25 years ago, my belly is about to explode and my wallet is empty.

And I'm sure I'll happily be back next year.

I have no idea what it is about the Minnesota State Fair, but I love it...always have, always will. I even miss the days my dad would look at all of the newest combines on machinery hill, as boring as that could be.

I didn't get to see everything I wanted to, as usual. Some year I am going to spend the whole day there alone to just take in what I want to take in. But sharing time with the family was still worth the trip and then some.

When I do go alone, I hope Williams and Ree will be there again so I can take in their whole program. I still enjoy their booger humor, sung to John Anderson's "Swingin'." (How do I punctuate the end of that sentence correctly?) I even enjoy their serious music, even though the three songs they sang tonight was about as much country music as I voluntarily listened to all year. It's kind of cool to think of the nice living these guys have made for themselves doing something they love for some three decades (or more?).

For the record here's what I ate at the Fair, between 6:00pm and 10:00 pm:

Cheese Curds
Pineapple milk shake
Sweet Martha's cookies
Strawberry malt (yeah, I like malts and shakes...what of it?)
Onion Rings
Bull Bites
Taffy
Pepsi

I still feel stuffed (it's 11:15 pm), I'm sure I'll get heartburn tonight, but I have no regrets. And come tomorrow, I'll do my best to finish off the Sweet Martha's and the Salt Water Taffy we brought home.

I Had Blogfoot's Baby

I really enjoy reading blogs. From the hacks like me who use them merely as a journal with the knowledge that perhaps nobody other than himself is ever going to read it, to those who so desparately want to get the next scoop and make a name for themselves. Like Matt Drudge, one could then make a nice living being wrong most of the time (insert gratuitous weather forecaster joke here).

I recently read one blog that was slamming people I know based on one piecee of information, and all sorts of similar folks crawled out of the woodwork to join in to form a virtual circle-jerk.

As tempted as I am to use my personal knowledge of the subject matter and expose these self-congratulatory folk for the cretins they don't realize they are, it's in my best interest not to.

They say the blogosphere is the National Enquirer of the Internet. From what I've seen, the defunct Weekly World News is perhaps a more appropriate comparison, at least in some cases.

Time to Trump Waste Management

Yeah, it's entirely my fault that the garbage wasn't picked up by Waste Management this morning at our house. I hadn't pay the bill, and they had left me automated messages on the phone. I'd been meaning to call them back to pay. I had lost the previous bill, and just received the new one this week, but instead of mailing in a check, I wanted to take care of the payment and firing them in the same call.

It turns out that would take two separate calls, so I paid by phone, and will call them later to do my best Donald Trump. What happened was that back in early June, my father went to the Maple Grove Waste Management facilities to dump some old concrete blocks. He walked around the building to get some service, but no one responded to his door knocks (or however you're supposed to get them...I don't know if it's a drive-up window or what) and the place appeared vacant. So he started dumping the blocks, when of course, out pops a woman who rudely tells him he can't do that without paying.

He explained that he tried to get some help but no one answered. Then, upon learning from the woman how much it would cost, he decided he would just take the blocks back out of the dumpster and dispose of them elsewhere. So he took the blocks out and drove away, end of story.

Or not. The City of Maple Grove Police Department sent me a letter stating someone driving my vehicle (I traded the car with my dad some time ago) was reported "dumping block material without paying to do so." By the description of the guy, they knew it was not me, but that unless I could identify him, I'm on the hook for the $33.83 in fees. I don't know whether the woman called the police before talking with my dad, but even if she had, she should have cleared it up with them once he explained himself and left.

I gave the letter to my dad and he apparently took care of it, and fired Waste Management as his trash collection service of choice, as I vowed to do. I figure today is as good a day as any, since they finally decided to not take my trash after me not paying for a while.

I am not a rude caller in such conflicts. In fact, I rather enjoy "killing them with kindness," so I look forward to telling them why I will be taking my business elsewhere. I have many choices...too many choices, in fact, for even this capitalist. Our neighborhood roads get beaten down with the several trucks that wake me up every Friday morning. I wouldn't mind a little socialism in the waste collection business - or a private monopoly - just to free our streets a little.

One choice I will not be going with is BP. They laid off my father-in-law a few years back, with a crappy pension and severance. Right now I'm leaning towards LSI, a local company (Lakeville).

Whomever I hire, I promise to pay them on time, unless they call the cops on my dad.

Excitement You Can't Beat

I made fun of Olympic swimming in an earlier post. Well, even though I still wouldn't mind a 400 dog paddle relay, to be serious for a moment, that 400 men's freestyle relay was about as exciting a race as I have ever seen in my life. Nearly as exciting was Katie Hoff's loss just earlier, in similar fashion in the 400 individual freestyle (leading much of the way, then losing by just :07).

I also feel blessed that I am married to a former D-I college swimmer. When your wife is as excited as you are (even more?) while watching a sporting event, that's pretty cool!

Election 2008

I'm doing this kind of backwards, but I am going to put up a couple of icons (or attempt to) on this blog for folks to follow the 2008 presidential election. The backwards part is saying I'm going to do it before actually doing it, which sets me up for certain failure.

I am putting two up because they are both very good, and one is maintained by a conservative-leaning type, and the other a liberal-leaning type. I know which is which; I'm sure you'll be able to figure them out if you check out their sites.

Here goes nothing...

Twelve Handicapper for a Day

Wow, was golf league odd last night. Had my short game not been there, it would have been extremely embarrassing. As it was, it was just a bit embarrassing. We played the Platinum nine at Emerald Greens, a 3600-yard par 37. I managed a 43, and needed to birdie the ninth just to do that. After being happy with my last three full rounds of playing around a five handicap, this was a step back.

I might not have been upset about just any old 43, but this was one where nothing really felt right. A couple scrambles for par, and the birdie, kept it from getting way out of hand. Quite disconcerting were: One drive OB, one in the wrong fairway, a couple airmailed greens, and two hazards on the same hole...almost all of which were visibly "bad" shots, not just "near-misses." I hope it's out of my system by this Friday's Derby Days tournament in Shakopee at Stonebrooke.

An Unexpected Physics Lesson

This is late, but oh well...

While watching the All Star Game Home Run Derby, I had to laugh at yet another one of Joe Morgan's attempts to educate the audience. I learn very little baseball by listening to Joe; I learn even less about physics.

During Josh Hamilton's ridiculous display of power in the first round, he hit one shot that did not carry quite so far, and in fact appeared to sink a little, while still landing on the other side of the fence.

"That ball had a lot of topspin there," declared Morgan (or words to that effect).

Sorry, Joe, but if that ball had a lot of top-spin or over-spin as it's also called, it would not have cleared the fence. Perhaps it had less underspin than other shots, and perhaps some side-spin as well, giving it an apparent sinking trajectory. But topspin? No way. Not even a little.

Shark Attacks!

I was going to post about my 78 today at Inver Wood (77 after ESC...no bogeys today; 3 birdies, 3 doubles and a triple, the rest pars), but I'm just too excited for Greg Norman.

Of all the majors, and I still don't know which is my favorite, The Open is the one I look forward to most the night before each round because, duh, it's on the tube as soon as I get up. How cool would it be to see Norman win tomorrow?

First, he'd get to play at least one more Masters tournament. His chances of finally winning would be slim, but it would be a great scene as he makes his last putt on 18.

Second, I hate the "choker" and "over-rated" labels put on him. The "choker" label is unfair and only tells a small part of the story of his terrific career. The "over-rated" label is simply founded on ignorance. If anything, because of the stigma attached to his near-misses, he has been underrated.

Remember when Joe Montana handed Cincinnatti the Super Bowl in '89 with an easy interception in the end zone? No, you don't, because the easy INT was dropped. Joe and the Niners took advantage, and in one game Joe went from a choker to people calling him the greatest QB of all time.

I would hope a win at the Open for Norman tomorrow would erase his "choker" image once and for all.

Bigger is Better

Last week, I installed a new Winn AVS Jumbo putter grip on my Odyssey two-ball blade putter (black insert). The grip cost $8.99 at Golfsmith. I could have opted for the exact same model of grip, but with the big "ODYSSEY" lettering, for $19.99. No-brainer there; golf is expensive enough.

I haven't played a round with the new putter yet, but have practiced twice so far, and absolutely love it. We'll see how long that lasts, but the reason I'm encouraged is that my putting style favors a larger grip, because I use a piston motion from the right arm, so it's most beneficial to have the palm jabbing into the grip, different from wrapping the fingers around like a conventional golf grip.

Jack Nicklaus is probably the most famous for putting this way. (Just about anything Jack did automatically makes him the most famous for doing it.) But he still held the putter a little more conventionally.

The thing about putting is, sometimes the only cure for one's putting woes is to get rid of the instrument that was a part of so many negative visual impressions, i.e., missed putts. Some pros keep a putter for years and years...we'll see if my AVS-gripped Odyssey makes it "months and months," or even "weeks and weeks."

Painting and Puking on the Radio

I was listening to the Twins eventual loss yesterday in the car, and once again was extremely disappointed in the play-by-play. I've never been a John Gordon fan, but have learned to tolerate him to some degree. Dan Gladden, however, has a long way to go in my book.

What I've learned to tolerate about Gordon is the puking (puking is the sound bad announcers make when they are trying to sound like good announcers...think of Bob Uecker's "Juuuust a bit outside" call in Major League), the over-excited way he calls even mundane plays, and his inability to really tell how deep a fly ball is hit. Herb Carneal was the best ever at calling a home run or deep fly out. He seemed to know exactly how excited you should get the moment the ball left the bet.

Anyway, what still irks me about Gordon is the gabbing while you can hear the crack of the bat and even crowd reaction before he tells you what's happening. Worse, he'll gab during a pitch that you'll clearly hear hit the catcher's mitt, then he'll gab some more and say, "First pitch to Punto is low for a ball; Buerhle right back with a strike, it's one-and-one." As if the reason he called the pitches so quickly was because the pitcher hurried up his next pitch, and not because Gordon was falling behind in making the call.

Missing the first pitch of a new inning, something I thought KSTP would do something about when they got the Twins' rights away from WCCO, is also a steering wheel banger. (I bang the steering wheel when I'm driving and get angry. It's my method of controlling my own road rage...it works quite well!)

All that said about Gordon, Gladden is simply horrible. I don't think it's because I'm an ex-radio jock who also did sports and is thus bitter when people of marginal talent have made the big time in the biz. Maybe there's some of that. But come on. Here's a paraphrased transcript of one call from yesterday:

"He checks his swing and...oh...they've got the runner caught between second and third....and they're going to get him out. Nice defensive play there, and big mistake on the base paths by the runner."

So I'm thinking somehow Mauer, the catcher, caught the runner leaning or something and threw him out. Except:

"And (the batter) will be at first and up comes (the next batter.)"

What did I miss?? After Gladden talked about the play a little more I realized that the check swing was a check swing ground ball, and instead of throwing the batter out at first, the defense (Gladden didn't say even which infielder played the grounder, let alone let the listener know in real time it was even a batted ball) threw out the runner who was at second and got caught off base.

A play like this will happen from time to time. Charlie Steiner's ESPN radio home run call of Barry Bonds' record-breaking 71st home run was a boner that comes to mind. But it's the norm for Gladden, and it upsets me because I don't think I should have to work that hard to figure out what's going on in a baseball game I'm listening to on the radio.

Hockey is particularly difficult to get right in real time. Sometimes, before the announcer can even see the puck in the net, the light is flashing and the crowd is cheering and the horn blows. But baseball? With all of that dead time to catch your breath?

There's an old sports broadcasting philosophy that is taught, known as "painting a picture" for the listener. Virtually everyone agrees with it in concept, but it seems to mean different things to different announcers. To former Minnesota Golden Gopher announcer Ray Christensen, it often meant adding details about the color of trim on the opponents' jerseys. A nice touch, as long as he got the game right, too, which Ray did.

A truly exciting play can be enhanced by John Gordon's hyperbolic enthusiasm. And I loved Dan Gladden as a key ingredient, spark plug, etc. of the World Champion Twins teams of '87 and '91.

But as to the "picture painting" metaphor of radio sports broadcasting, to Gordon, perhaps it means just gabbing to fill dead air, and puking to add "color" to the painting. As for Gladden, I doubt whether he has even heard of the concept.

Work-free, Guilt-free Holiday

I took Thursday, July 3 off from work to extend my Fourth of July holiday. Fully expecting to catch up on some work things, I checked e-mails a few times, but here it is, Sunday night, and I didn't get any work done. I've learned not to feel so guilty about it. The five years of law school has helped my be a little less hard on myself for not putting in extra hours.

It also helps to recognize all of the times at work when someone else didn't get something done in time, even simple things, like returning my phone call or getting some information back to me. No one thinks any less of these folks. We all get it that we're in an intensely growing company in an intensely growing business.

My younger sister has the proper perspective that's good to remember if you tend to be a little self-conscious as I do: No matter how much you think other people are thinking of you, good or bad, it's probably a lot less than you realize.

Pink Eye and the Fourth of July

Instead of joining family in the Brainerd Lakes area this Fourth of July holiday, my wife and I took our sons to the Eagan Fun Fest parade today, my first parade in exactly nineteen years. It wasn't as unenjoyable as I thought it would be. No offense, by the way, to the organizers, participants, or people who like parades. I'm just not the parade type I guess.

I did enjoy watching my 2 1/2-year-old son appearing to enjoy it. He wasn't just interested in the candy, either, which is good, because as we watched from near the finish line, many of the candy throwers had run out. Having your kids enjoy something always makes even the most boring things in life tolerable. I guess that's a large reason why G movies do so well.

The only real downer of the day is that my one-year-old's pink eye is getting worse. (Is that one word or two?) We'll need to take him in soon; we were hoping to be able to at least hold off until tomorrow.

I had fevers, earaches, cavities and chicken pox just like any other kid (pre-chicken pox vaccine days), so it baffles me that my kids have had multiple occurrences of pinkeye (walleye is one word; perhaps pinkeye is too...I can Google it later). I finally did catch it from one of them in my 40s, but never as a child.

While I always enjoyed the Fourth of July as a kid, I never quite caught the Fourth of July Parade Fever. Once every nineteen years is plenty for me, although I'll probably be doing more of them in the future if gas prices don't at least hold steady for a while. I enjoy even parades if they save me $100 at the pump.

And the Gold for the 100 Meter Frog Hop Goes to...

I was watching the Olympic trials with my wife, a former Division I swimmer, and quite enjoyed it, because any time you can watch sports with your wife, and she is as in to it as you are, that makes the experience that much better.

One thing I couldn't get my mind around, and certainly didn't ask her, was why are there so many strokes?

The 400 Meter Individual Medley (aka "400 IM" in swimmers' lingo), consists of the Butterfly, Breast, Back and Freestyle strokes (not necessarily in that order...I'm still learning).

Now, if someone challenges you to a running race, you run. First one to the finish line wins. If someone were to challenge you to a swimming race, shouldn't the same rules apply? First one to the line wins...as long as they swim, it doesn't matter what stroke they'd use.

My wife's specialty was the backstroke. She wasn't as proficient in the freestyle. So the rules of swimming benefited people like her, who had special skills that allowed to swim a certain stroke faster, and that should be a good thing (to open up possibilities for as many as possible).

Great, but then where is the 500 IM, you know, to include the dog paddle? Why is the breast stroke a more respected stroke that it gets inclusion, but not the dog paddle?

In track and field, they'll change the length of the races to cover for those who may have more stamina but less raw speed. But there is no equivalent to swimming's backstroke, like running backwards, nor an equivalent to the breast stroke ("frog hop 100" perhaps?).

Not that track and field is perfect, mind you. There's a long jump and a triple jump, but what if I were the best in the world at a double jump? I would be screwed out of my place in history, and maybe even a Wheaties box cover.

And with today's technology, why is a foul on the long jump or triple jump even an issue? Just measure from the point of take-off, period. Furthermore, why isn't the standing broad jump an event? Seems to me that if it were, you'd never have the top athlete in the world fail to qualify because he/she accidentally stepped on the line.

Still, I will enjoy the Olympics this year for reasons mentioned, plus the fact that my wife still knows some of the swimming and diving competitors. That's pretty cool. As long as it's not synchronized swimming. I'll leave that topic to the other bloggers. I'm sure there's plenty of commentary on that in the blogs...or at least there will be by the time the '08 games are through.

Hanging up the Cleats

Last night was one of those few moments in life where you realize you are going to make a decision that will change your life.

I'm not talking about proposing to your future wife, going to law school, or anything that "life-changing." But for me, it was not insignificant. (Note the double negative; proof of my law school experience.)

In a double-header of Eagan middle division corporate softball, I realized I had lost the desire to play any more organized softball. At age 42, after having won state and national championships, and playing more than 150 games and hitting more than 100 home runs in a year (2001), I realized it was time.

I actually had realized it was time a few years ago, but more out of realizing other priorities in my life needed me. So I "subbed" a few times each of the last three years, but this year I agreed to play most of an 18-game season. During the night, and especially at the end of the night, while reflecting back on my team's two wins, I realized my heart wasn't in it...especially, oddly, at the plate.

Maybe someday the fire will rekindle and I'll be talked into playing on a competitive 50+ team. But I doubt it. I'll play hard and try to help the team win the rest of the year.

I've played in some organized men's slow pitch league every year since 1983 except for 1986 (thanks to a misunderstanding about my company's teams that I won't go into here). So perhaps I will suit up ceremoniously for one game each year for a while, just to say I did.

But that will be it. It's been a long run, and I wish I could say it was more fun than it was. More than anything, I enjoy getting better at something I already enjoy, so in that regard, it was very rewarding.

What will I miss most? Playing outfield, which I got to go back to doing this year after dropping some 30 pounds. More than anything, that's what I enjoyed about slow pitch softball, and even more than the home runs and championships, it's what I will miss most. I'm glad I got to do it again for one more year, even if my heart hasn't been in the rest of the game.

My Latest Golf "Fix"

In my last post, I said I'd need mental toughness in the days ahead. I played in the annual Cardinal Classic this past Friday through Sunday, and in an MGA Qualifier yesterday. On a scale of 1 to 10, I think I'd give myself about a 7 overall, with individual days of 7, 4, 6, and 8 respectively.

I'd rather not bore with the details, other than to say I accomplished my goals at the qualifier fo 1) Not embarrassing myself, and 2) Not finishing last. I finished T10 out of 13, shooting an 80. Not my best golf by any means, but my best round in an MGA tournament to date. The course was Minnewaska, a 71.9 rating and a 136 slope, but the MGA may even post it as higher for the difficult tournament conditions.

During the Cardinal Classic, I discovered my latest "fix." I will no longer lift my left heel on the backswing. Not that it's bad to do per se, but that because of softball, I tend to not set the heel back down in the same spot, instead pointing it more forward, thereby causing me to fire my hips too violently, and subjecting myself to bad pulls. I'm still not at the right level of trust yet, but I'm encouraged by what I see so far.

Harvey Penick wrote that lifting the heel is OK if it comes naturally, so I never bothered to change it. But when my playing partner made a comment that I lift my heel "old school" style, I began to think hmmm, maybe THAT's what has been causing my pulls.

Sure enough, when I hit balls after the round, it seemed I was opening up my stance while putting my heel back down during the downswing. We'll see how much this fix improves my game over the next several weeks.

Maybe the money spent on my $299 driver, plus two changes of shafts at about $140 total, would have been better spent on video lessons with a pro...

Mentally tough: Tiger and Rocco and (not) me

On the day of Tiger's fourteenth major victory, it was my third league night of the season. Far from a Tiger-like performance, today was yet another typically unique round for me.

With my three strokes handicap (for nine holes), I did at least win my match. In fact, I hit a few very decent shots, going one-under after two holes in fact. But after hitting what I thought was a good sand wedge into hole three, only to find myself in a hideous lie beyond the green, leading to a double bogey, the wheels somewhat fell off.

Literally, the SkyCaddie fell off. Or fell in rather. On hole four, a par five, I hit a perfect drive and left myself just a good three-wood to the green. But the lie was poor: in the "seam" of two pieces of recently-laid sod. It was a good enough lie for a lay-up with a mid-iron, but of course I pulled out the three wood and dumped the shot, only to learn later that our league plays winter rules. It ended up being a bogey, but worse, somewhere between my third shot and the next tee, I lost my SkyCaddie, and my mind was never into the match after that.

It's too late to make a long story short, but to wrap it up, after asking all the groups behind us if they found it, after borrowing a cart from the course to go back and look for it, after leaving my name and number at the club house, and after looking through my bag inside out, I headed home and called my wife, apologizing for my lateness and somberly telling her about my SkyCaddie.

When I got home, I decided to one more time take my clubs out of the bag, and tip it over. Sure enough, there it was: it was at the bottom of the bag the whole time.

I've been really trying to keep my mental focus sharp for a full round; even just nine holes. I never expected to have my mental toughness tested by the misplacement of a GPS gadget. Today, Rocco Mediate took Tiger to a 91st hole. Tiger of course won despite constant pain from his recently-scoped knee. For either of them, that's mental toughness I could only dream about.

But again, I won my match, so maybe there's some hope. I'm going to need all the toughness I can muster in the days ahead. To be continued...

A Good Electric Cart Ride Spoiled

I played golf yesterday, taking a half-day off from work to join my wife in a sort-of tournament at Loggers Trail in Stillwater. It's a nice course, with bent grass fairways and a reasonable price, but I'm not likely to become a regular patron for a couple reasons.

Before I get into the reasons, let me make it perfectly clear that one of the reasons is not how I played. While I did play poorly (88; 86 after ESC adjustment, for a differential of 13, my worst in a year), I hit plenty of very good shots, and course knowledge will help me play it better next time. I like that kind of challenge, so in that way, I do look forward to playing it again.

What I do not look forward to are the three holes that are doglegs around out-of-bounds stakes. Usually, this is just poor design in my opinion, but I can tolerate it once on a golf course, provided there is a good bail-out option if you don't want to flirt with one of golf's all-time silly rules: the stroke-and-distance penalty for out-of-bounds. There is no such ample bail-out on this course, which brings me to complaint number two: the wild grass.

I enjoy courses with deep fescue as an obstacle, provided that its placement is kept in such a way that you don't feel the need to hit wedge off of every tee just to avoid it. I also enjoy wild grass as a nice, natural hazard on a course, such as Deacon's Lodge near Breezy Point. The wild grass at Loggers Trail, however, is far too plentiful, and as a non-hazard, far too penal to be enjoyable.

Yesterday's five-hour round consisted of about an hour total of ball hunting in our group. Were the wild grass a lateral hazard, we simply would have treated it as such, and made the round in much less time.

I don't think I'm too different from other golfers in that I don't mind taking my one stroke penalty, even several times a round, and dropping near the hazard. No one, however, enjoys having to keep hitting provisionals, hunting for the original in deep grass, only to resort to scrambling to save double bogey. I imagine most golfers would enjoy this course because most golfers would ignore USGA rules in a casual round here and play the wild grass as hazard. But in an outing where the rules must apply, or to a player who likes to keep an honest handicap even in casual rounds, it's no fun.

But I'm sure I'll be returning and aiming to break 80 from the tips. I might want to leave my driver at home for that.

T-snide's Loggers Trail rating: 3 1/2 out of 5, which ain't bad (I'm not the most generous rater).

Watch out for:
- Stroke and distance penalties abound in the wild grass (although I've been told sometimes it's shorter, such as early spring)
- Cut corners by the OB stakes at your peril
- Current clubhouse is a double-wide with just one restroom that sports a non-tinted window with no shades to keep passers-by from peeping or snooping while you're peeing or pooping

Pluses:
- Nice bent grass fairways that are usually fairly generous
- Housing development not a problem (as opposed to Oak Glen, The Wilds, etc.)
- Good price for the quality of course

Happy Birthday Sis

Today is my older sister's birthday, and we're going to Green Mill tonight to celebrate. When I think of my sister, I think of what an influence she was on me growing up. Things I knew when I was, say, six years old, I knew because my sister knew. Like how Ann-Margret was in a terrible accident. She looked so pretty, I thought, but my sister said you could still see the scar. I also knew who the Beatles were, and even learned to like a lot of their songs, long before most of my friends did, who mostly got to know them when John Lennon was killed.

What's amazing to me still today is that she was quite young to know all of this stuff, too. How many eleven-year-olds today know what's going on in the world aas well as my sister did? And I'm not just talking about pop culutre, either, although that was a large part of it. I suppose it makes sense, though, as she did graduate number one in a large metro school. She has the ability and smarts to do anything; I just wish she'd believe it.

My sister used to also share with me what she was learning in school, which gave me quite a head start. I think that's largely why I had enough people fooled into thinking I was some kind of academic prodigy, and why I skipped the second grade.

I remember one time in a music studies class, a fellow student commented how sad it is today (this was in 1991) that music isn't a "family thing" like it had been for our ancestors. The professor asked for anyone in the class to comment on anything music-related from our youth. I raised my hand and said, "The Partridge Family!"
"And what about the Partridge Family do you remember?," he asked.
"Well...my sister and I..."
"You see?," he asked the fellow student.
"Yeah, but," she started to respond, without really being able to finish.

I still like the Partridge Family, thanks to my sister (and I don't hold that against her one bit!) I especially like the fact that, at 42, I have memories most people five years older than me do not. And when I'm reminded of them, right away I think of my sister.

Happy Brithday, Sis!

Here we go...

Never mind what to post, how should my free blog look? I chose my 2 1/2 year-old's favorite color...orange. Everything has to be orange with him. Open a 64-count box of Crayola's, and he'll grab orange right away, without fail.

He digs that my softball jersey is orange. He's also learning to swing a bat and golf club pretty well. I am going to resist telling him they make orange golf balls for as long as I can.

And what to name this blog? T-Snide with the hyphen, without, all lower case, some capitalization...oh, the choices! Long before there was T-Hud or A-Rod, and J-Lo was just Jenny from the block, a co-worker nicknamed me T-Snide. Not T-Schneid, as would be truly in line with my real name, and what some choose to call me. So I'll go with that, and while I historically have not hyphenated it, I've been changing that trend in recent years.

OK, that's just uncomfortable talking about my name that much. Let that be the last of it.

And welcome to my new blog. Orange you glad you came?