Thursday, November 19, 2009

The value of Helmets

I went to a head shape clinic yesterday. Not for me, for the baby (see previous post). The little guy has to wear a helmet now, to prevent a deformed, adult head. I find it funny that he has to wear a helmet to correct something that wouldn't have happened had he been wearing a helmet in the first place. So they gave us an airbrushed helmet with stars on it. It was ugly, so I painted it to look exactly like my old flaming skull goalie mask. It scares the kid now, but at least he's cool looking. The head shape doctor mentioned that the little guy's head wasn't so bad, then started pointing out that even my wife's head was deformed a little. I punched him in the mouth for that.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Hindsight is 20-20

This is hard to write.

When I watch football and the Stamps score, I sometimes spike whatever I'm holding into an imaginary end zone in my living room.

So now I don't get to hold the baby anymore. Nobody said it was easy being a sports fan.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

An Old Friend

I just wanted to post a link to a website made by an old friend. Sure, he hates sports, but don't hold that against him. Just enjoy his wacky website.

Monday, October 5, 2009

It does a body good.

There are a few things you should know about me.

1. I have unusually strong bones, like the opposite of the avian bone disease. This is partly due to genetics, and partly due to the fact that I inject Cholecalciferol (Vitamin D3) daily. This causes my eyes to yellow, and my eyelashes to fall out. I suppose I could find a better place to inject, but I prefer to avoid looking strange, like an avid needle user.

2. I don't drink milk because I'm the most sane person I know. I've been to a farm. I've seen cows. I can assure you that what absolutely did not enter my mind was that I wanted to be breast fed by the cows I saw. It didn't appear motherly. And it's udders were ugly, chapped and dirty. I have consumed cow milk in my life, but when I think about what it actually is and from where it came, I can't do it again.

So there's a trade off, between the natural benefits of drinking cow milk, and the less natural benefits of injecting Cholecalciferol (Vitamin D3) daily. For example, drinking cow milk affects me psychologically for a few minutes. I mean, it tastes good, and I can tell my body likes it, but I simply dislike thinking about it. On the other hand, Cholecalciferol (Vitamin D3) has physical side affects. These include, but are not limited to headache, weakness, drowsiness, dry mouth, nausea, vomiting, constipation, muscle and/or bone pain, metallic taste in my mouth, weight loss, itchy skin, changes in heart rate, loss of interest in sex, confusion, unusual thoughts or behavior, feeling unusually hot, severe pain in your upper stomach spreading to my back, or fainting.

So I choose the injections, because who wants to get the willies when they eat something? I wonder if my abnormal aversion to cow milk is a direct result of my use of the Cholecalciferol (Vitamin D3).

A younger me, posing next to a sign depicting a cow doing the right thing.

Friday, October 2, 2009

This Tastes Immoral

Another coach told me a story that I thought was great. Her and her family were having a conversation. This family includes her and her husband and two sons, all WASP Canadians. One of her sons brought his girlfriend who happens to have a Lebanese Muslim heritage. Anyway, they were discussing what they would do if they were stranded somewhere and they had to eat a human. One of the sons said that he heard that human tastes just like pork. Well this girlfriend piped up and asked "Well what would I eat then?"

Absolutely perfect.

Chainsaws are for trees.

I had a strange dream last night.

What I think happened (it's often difficult to piece together the logic in many of my dreams) is that there was some sort of zombie apocalypse, but some twisted person thought it would be lucrative to make a game show out of it. I and eleven others had to get through an underground series of tunnels and rooms. Interestingly some tunnels and rooms were bare rock, and others were completely finished, as though they were inside some classy old house. Other contestants would be placed strategically in certain areas to hide and frighten and kill the rest of us. So we had zombies to deal with, as well as sick individuals that would kill for money. We were unarmed and were trying to quickly make our way through the labyrinth to get to a room with a door that was sturdy, and could be locked. We entered a wide open hall, lit by weak gymnasium lights. As I walked past a pillar, someone popped in behind me and fired up a chainsaw and started to saw into me where my neck meets my shoulder. It didn't hurt, but it could definitely feel the force downward on me. I dropped, and jolted out of the way. He was grimy, and was dressed in filthy overalls with matted black hair. He was a new contestant. He came at me again, and lunged with the chainsaw, but I grabbed his arms. He shifted in such a way that he was able to nick away at both of my forearms. Again, there was no pain, just blood. I shifted my weight and he fell down. I grabbed the chainsaw, and while he was on the ground holding his arms up for protection, I sawed his arms off just below the elbow. Another player bandaged him up while I kept on, looking for a decent room. It was our understanding that the dominant player would get the safe room for the night. We found it shortly after, and it was decided that I would get the room. I was the dominant player at the time, likely because I was the only one with a chainsaw and obviously wasn't afraid to use it. We all entered the room together. It was a dank, but clean room that resembled a 70's motel room. There was wood paneling on all the walls, a hide-a-bed with white sheets and a tan colored, itchy looking blanket and maroon shag carpet. The doors were painted white, apparently many times, as they were very glossy, and I could see imperfections and drips painted over many times. I told everyone to leave the room and when they did, I checked every closet, kitchenette cupboard, and door, to make sure there wasn't anyone else hiding in that room, and that all the doors were locked and secure. Then I sat down on the bed and put down the chainsaw, exhausted.

Then I woke up.

I can't wait for hockey season to really get going.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

The day I got Burned.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but on the side, I like to sell sport drinks. I do this as a leisurely way to pass the time, not for the money. It's not the drinks themselves that I am interested in, it's the salesmanship, and the strategy of setting up shop in the ideal spot.

A few months back, I was in the locker room at my gym, and was discussing the greater contribution to society that athletic people make, when compared to non-athletes. I went further to say that athletes should be given preferential treatment. I believe the group I was speaking to was in agreement, because they offered no opposing view, in fact, very little was said at all in reply to my statements. I assure you they weren't ignoring me though, because when I changed the subject to my sport drink endeavors after an excruciating lull in the conversation, one person spoke up.

I feel it is important to mention what this person looked like. He had hair that looked like a woman's. It was red, and looked clean and brushed. It reached almost down to his tie-dyed trunks. He also had a thick, curly beard of the same color. On his chest, he had a tattoo of a woman's face, with straight blue hair parted down the middle with a band around her forehead with a flower on the center of it. Behind the woman was some floral, yet tribal design. I couldn't look too long, because I didn't want him to think I was gay. I think he had the same idea, because he wasn't making eye contact with me either, but I was pretty naked after my shower.

He spoke. "You should sell your drink at burning, man. Lot's of thirsty people there, man."

This confused me. "I should sell it at burning? What are you talking about?"

"No. Burning MAN, the festival." He spoke as though he was saying something that was obvious to everyone. What planet was this guy from?

"Should I now?" I said with a hint of disagreement. "I'm not taking a trip across town, just to sell a few drinks to some little party."

"Actually, it's in the desert near Reno, and I think 48,000 people went last year." I realized he was giving me a sales tip.

"Alright. Thanks. I'll look into that." I thought maybe I could catch the Vegas to Reno desert race while I was down there.

Flash forward to a select few experiences from my trip down there.

1. As soon as I arrived at the lake bed where this festival takes place, I knew I found the planet that guy from the gym comes from.

2. The people here are strange and they all expected the drinks to be free. Someone explained to me that the purpose of the festival was to create a community where everyone contributes something. Everyone brings something to give away to the community, and they take something home with them, be it a spiritual truth, an experience, a skill or talent, whatever. I think he just wanted free juice.

3. These were not the type of people to experiment with the sales pitch: "Electrolyte replacement promotes proper rehydration, which is important in delaying the onset of fatigue during exercise." They laugh at such remarks.

4. I got so many complaints when I put up the banner advertising my sport drink that I started telling people it was art.

5. I questioned a group of customers whether recycling the plastic bottles is worth the effort. This was a grave mistake. This was a turning point in the first morning of the festival. My only friend at this point was a member of the Washoe County Sheriff's Office. We were outcasts here.

6. A useless fact I learned from overhearing some older ladies talking about drugs. Nevada doesn't recognize that medical marijuana is legal. Why would senior citizens know this? I also heard that the police use night vision goggles to detect drug use. I figured these old stoner ladies were paranoid, but then my cop friend confirmed it.

7. There didn't seem to be any cool car buffs there, and people put stupid ugly crap all over their cars here. Someone tried to put a ceramic daisy on my car and I got after them and nearly made them cry. They said something about bad vibes and I knew I couldn't stay here for a week.

So I packed up my kit and spent the rest of the morning and afternoon in Reno. It was nice, walking around, being normal. I saw some people who were clearly involved with that festival being spoken to by police. I thought to myself, I could get away with a lot, like I could go into a store right now and steal their security television, but the cops wouldn't suspect me, because I look normal, unlike these other people. On my way out of town I saw another car pulled over. It was covered in snow globes. Apparently ugliness is illegal in Nevada too. I couldn't wait to get home and put on the game and live a normal life again.

I saw that guy in the gym again. He looked like he was smirking when he walked by and my jock friends were asking about burning man. I take comfort in the fact that I am a winner, and he is a loser. I mean, just look at him. I'm so glad I'm not weird. But even if I was, like if I had a medical condition where I just dressed terribly, I'd still make sure I could beat up anyone who said anything about it. I thought about the discussion I had in the locker room and realized that athletes do get preferential treatment. It's because we're not weird that we fit in, and everyone looks up to us because we can do what they can't, what they wish they could do. They love us because they compare themselves to us and see that we are simply better.

That night I had a pizza with Coke for supper, and watched football over a six of Bud. This was my protest against all that happened at burning man.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Get well soon, Ken-Yon!

The Calgary Stampeders are losing their receiver temporarily due to injury. In Friday's game against the B.C Lions, Ken-Yon Rambo suffered a leg injury. Rambo had to leave the game late in the first quarter after a bold offensive move by Lions linebacker Javier Glatt. Rambo has a surgery planned that will clean out his knee joint and reattach his anterior cruciate ligament.

In an attempt to bring more interest to my football reporting, I've decided to include the banter between the players recorded on the overhead microphones in this story. The following was recorded in the moments immediately after Rambo's injury.

Lookout! He's packin' heat!
That's a tackling dummy.
Dummies don't shoot.
He must be here!
We've gotta kill that guy!
Go get him!
You have to find him first, Barnes!
Hayes, Smythe, get over here! Green, cover me, now!
Oh my leg! Hayes, make a tourniquet!
We've gotta get him to a doctor! - And fast!
Anyone see a first aid kit?
It's still in my locker.
Where did that maniac get the gun?
From Olson.
Doesn't matter. He's out of bullets.
What do you mean?
That mascot wasn't killed by a bullet.
Ken-Yon, open your eyes. You can't fall asleep.
Open the tourniquet. Okay. Do it up again.
We've got this guy. He's got no bullets.
He never should have killed our cheerleading squad.
Get that guy. Now!
OK. Everybody take a knee and listen up.He's ours.
We'll walk over there slowly. Don't let him stop you.
Don't let the fear get you.
Let's go get our prey.
Our prey? We're the prey!

Rambo gained 179 yards this season but has yet to score a touchdown.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

With friends like these.

A "friend" of mine has been illegally smuggling black-footed Ibérico hogs from Spain via medium-sized aircraft. I took this picture with my phone. These Iberian wild boar descendants feed mostly on acorns in their designated oak forests. I agreed to help this "friend" unload 50 hogs from his airplane last month in hopes that he'd reduce the $2000 price tag. That may seem like a lot to pay for a pig. But for an athlete like myself, consuming one of the only breeds of pig that contains Omega-3 (ω−3) fatty acids is of utmost importance. That carbon-carbon double bond three down from the methyl end of the fatty acid is what my muscles want, and it's what they get. Plus, my doctor says I simply must stop snorting powdered baby formula. That sucks, because I think it was finally starting to work. I've tried eating fish but I fear that it may hinder my entrance into certain bodybuilding competitions due to exceeding the maximum permissible acumen. So I drove several hours to his huge property that actually has a long, but run down airstrip on it, among barns and a pretty run down house, all being swarmed by grass and weeds. He was 20 minutes late when I saw an airplane approach in the distance. I was a little nervous being parked at the end of the airstrip when he came in for the landing. That nervous feeling was replaced by a fear that felt like an egg in the back of my throat. He eventually opened the door and I angrily asked him what the heck he thought he was doing.

He replied stupidly. "What?" He's such a redneck. I hate him.

"You're illegally smuggling pigs and you paint your plane like that?"

"That's to get them off the scent. The cops would never suspect pig smuggling in a airplane painted like this! Anyway, it came that way, and it was cheaper because of it."

"I'm not helping you again. You're begging for people to ask questions."

So I helped him unload the cargo and I gave him $1500 for a pig. I brought it home and have been eating it here and there for a few weeks now. I don't know if he hit some turbulence up there or something, but the meat tastes pretty bruised or something. It's kind of like really gamey bacon. And I've felt pretty nauseous for a few days now too, so I haven't been able to work these fatty acids into my muscles either. Can someone get physically sick from buyers remorse?


Tuesday, August 18, 2009

The Worlds Most Perfectly Developed Man

Remember this?
On my travels, I met Herc, Charles Atlas' son. I went to see why Charles hadn't been answering my letters. Turns out he died in 1972. Herc was not impressed. Long Beach NY was nice. Didn't go to New York city at this time. It seems like it would be boring. I just stayed on the beach and played volleyball and lifted weights, in spite of Atlas' regimen. Nobody kicked sand in my face.

Tour of Duty

While touring the great nation of America, I noticed a few things.

1. Americans are better than Canadians and they deserve to win at hockey games. On one of my visits to sports bars, myself and another gentleman discussed this topic at length, and he convinced me of this fact. However, I was quite inebriated, and now I can't remember the conversation at all.
2. Americans "take it to the next level." Give an American group something moderately interesting, like football, and they'll make it a mouth-frothing object of zealotry. Just compare 1890s football to that of today, and tell me they don't know how to extreme-ify something. I attended 116 football games in the 3 months I was away. It was totally worth selling my platform tennis court and plasma.
3. Carrying a gun around isn't just okay, it's cool. This isn't an an American thing, it's just something I realized while I was on the road. Maybe I'll buy one.
4. I am naturally gifted at Pickleball. But I'm not surprised.

In a short time, I'll be heading to the Hickory Nut Gorge Olympiad 2009 at Lake Lure, North Carolina. Here's a description from the website:
"This family-friendly event is schedule for August 27-30 and includes a 5-Mile Dam Run, a regionally-ranked triathlon sprint, and a race to the top of Chimney Rock Park, dragon boat racing, volleyball tournament, ski show, shag dance, fireworks, and so much more! "

What's a shag dance?

Monday, August 17, 2009

the Race Card

I've been driving my IROC-Z around the greater US since June 27th, 2009. I just got back today. You see, I went to my Mecca: the International Race of Champions. At least I thought it was going to be a religious experience. I thought it would be a magical journey through a mystical land of 1985 IROC-Z Camaros with upgraded suspensions, lowered springs, huge sway bars, wicked shocks and maybe a little tuned port injection. Nope. It was a Mario Andretti brag fest, and I don't mean Bicycle Ride Across Georgia. Sure, Mario won IROC IV, but should he distract from the beauty of the car named after the event? "I won on road, dirt and paved ovals" I don't care, Mario. Talk to me about souping up cars, tuning up cars, hopping up cars, pimping out cars, etc. That's where the real skill is.

It was kind of a strange event, though. I don't recall such an experience in my life. And believe me, I've had an awesome, extreme life. I've done lots to brag about, including that Georgia bike thing (Dream Team Corner 2009, people!). But what happened here, is not something I'd brag about. I had just finished doing some sweet drifts in the parking lot, and was really flying off adrenaline, because I like to do the drifts where you come really, really close to bystanders. And I came to the main event, where they were honoring the man of the hour, Andretti, except I thought it was supposed to be a roast, because some of the things his nephew was saying seemed so overly sweet and sycophantic that I started to laugh. And I have a pretty loud laugh. This was a huge mistake. John, his nephew, stopped mid sentence and was squinting out at the crowd for who had laughed. I got the meanest looks from the Race 4 Riley kids I was in front of. It was pretty humiliating. I think they thought I was laughing at them. I felt like a total DNQ.

Friday, June 26, 2009

R.I.P, hero.

"[He] was a brilliant troubadour for his generation, a genius whose [craft] reflected the passion and creativity of an era. His artistry and magnetism changed the ... landscape forever. We have been profoundly affected by his originality, creativity and amazing body of work. The entire ... family extends our deepest condolences to his family and to the millions of fans around the world who loved him"
“He didn't miss a beat in life. He had good times. He liked to live ... and the results of those things take a toll on you. But he was a happy guy until the day he died.”
You live your life with these heroes that you look up to. You act like them, you dress like them. You buy the same glove as them and wear it to school. Then they get older, and so do you. You watch them alongside millions of others do things they regret. And their heroism fades away. And they become a joke. How does one go from a point where everyone loves you, to another where everyone ridicules you in such a short time span? Perhaps the heart attack was actually a broken heart.
Dusty Rhodes, who helped the Giants win their last World Series title in 1954, has died. He was 82. Rhodes died Wednesday of cardiopulmonary arrest at Valley Hospital Medical Center in Las Vegas, the Clark County coroner's office said Thursday. He lived in Henderson.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Mysterious Hiatus Explained...

I've been having a hard time posting lately. You see, I am a prison husband. My wife was in a minimum security prison for 6 years and 3 months and now is in a halfway house, hoping to return home in a few more months. I don't want to get into it too much, as it's rather embarrassing, but she was arrested for impersonating her deceased mother in an attempt to collect on her insurance. Anyways, I took the kids to go visit her this past week in Kingston. It was our anniversary. Our oldest wasn't as excited to see her as I'd hoped, but he is only three. The magic just doesn't seem to be there anymore between her and I either, y'know? Ok. Have you ever had a penpal that you eventually went to meet and it was weird? Or better yet, have you ever had a penpal that you married in a prison ATCO trailer, had three kids with and then started questioning what you ever saw in them in the first place? Maybe now that she's free the thrill is gone? Now we have to think about becoming a regular domestic family. Plus now that I'm not worried every night that she's going to get killed, my perspective has changed. The worst part: she's a Leafs fan. Where's Ann Landers when you need her?

Friday, June 12, 2009

Art? On a Macho Sports Blog?

Some would dare say that art and sports aren't compatible. I completely disagree. I mean have you seen some of those goalie helmets? If anything, sports enhance art. I'll bet that a large percentage of art is actually inspired by athletes for what they do and how they look. Right here's a classic example. This sample is from But painting is old fashioned. I prefer something more "now" and exciting. That's why I prefer posters with computer art or timeless slogans. The poster below brings up another facet of art that sports has brought a lot to: fashion. The jerseys of sports teams are the coolest article of clothing anyone can possibly hope to own. That's why they're so expensive.

I also enjoy the art of face painting before a game. Application of the makeup takes skill, and wearing the makeup to the game is akin to performance art. Here's Calgary Flames fan Scott Patrick, getting his head painted by makup artist Fallon Coburn prior to the Flames' NHL Western Conference hockey playoff game against the Chicago Blackhawks in Calgary, Alberta, Monday, April 27, 2009. (AP Photo/The Canadian Press, Larry Macdougal) This is probably the coolest thing I have ever seen in my whole life. And I've been to Niagra Falls during a meteor shower. The only possible way this could be any cooler is if he could somehow have his head on fire, in a controlled, safe manner of course.

Anyone who doesn't see the connection between beautiful art and sports obviously isn't looking hard enough. But the best art is the athletes playing the sport itself. The grace, stamina, agility, endurance and heart they display really brings out the best in all of us.

I hope this little guy's a Detroit fan or I'll pummel him.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Prophetic Dream?

Last night I had a dream. I was in Joe Louis Arena section 213b. I was sipping some cola through a straw. The straw hit my teeth and they crumbled out of my mouth into my hands on a string of saliva. I threw them onto the floor and saw a tiny hole on the floor where they fell. I looked closer and could see something moving inside the hole. Suddenly the floor had the consistency of potting soil and I started to dig and expand the hole. As the hole got bigger, I could start to make out what was beneath me. It was West Jefferson Ave and 3rd Street. As the hole grew, I could see the Michigan/Ontario border.

The hole kept getting larger and it ate the row of seats I was on and we began to fall. And we fell fast. The woman on the last seat to my left was shrieking and I was thinking about how she sounded just like the Wilhelm Scream. When I came back to the moment, I could read the sign for the Gordie Howe Entrance right before we were about to hit the steps to the Arena. How fitting!

Absolute white light accompanied by a high-pitched ringing sound came next. At my feet was a trumpet that I had an incredible urge to play. I picked it up and put it to my lips and blew. Suddenly the white light disappeared and my vision was filled with an incredible sight. The ringing sound turned into a huge crowd's cheer. Hundreds of thousands of people were with me, in Joe Louis Stadium. Confetti and paper was flying through the air. The trumpet in my mouth turned into a red, plastic fan trumpet. I was cheering along with everyone else! I looked down to the ice and Detroit won the Stanley Cup! I continued lowering my gaze and realized that I was naked. I looked up and everyone was looking at me. So I streaked across the ice.Then I woke up on my floor. It appeared as though I had fallen out of bed onto my face. I sat up and grabbed the luke warm water from my night table and put the straw into my mouth. I had a stabbing pain in my mouth as I tried to drink. I put my hand under my chin and spit out the foreign matter in my mouth. Five of my teeth crumbled out of my mouth into my hands on a string of saliva. I wonder what else will come true from my dream!

Saturday, June 6, 2009

The 5 best up-and-comers A.K.A the High Five

Among the tens of thousands of athletes entering the realm of professional sports, many stand out due to their excellence. But there are five who possess exceptional stamina, power, fight, muscle tone and a whole lot of heart. I've categorized these athletes into 5 categories, strength, power, agility, balance, and flexibility. Here goes (I'm super excited, if you can't tell.) Oh, and I've borrowed the definitions for these terms from Their nicknames are used to protect their cause (see below).

Strength - the extent to which muscles can exert force by contracting against resistance (e.g. holding or restraining an object or person). The athlete who possesses this attribute in abundance is RaleighRob. Seen here doing back squats, you can tell he's concerned about both upper and lower body conditioning. But obviously not simply with the intent to look ripped. He's working towards entering the upcoming summer olympics in London for weightlifting in the lightest possible weight class. Not only that, he's pushing 40 but looks incredibly young. Way to go RaleighRob you've proven that sports are the fountain of youth!

Power - the ability to exert maximum muscular contraction instantly in an explosive burst of movements. The two components of power are strength and speed. (e.g. jumping or a sprint start). Our champion of power, Don, is pictured here coaching figure skating to another fine athlete. Misplaced stereotypes say figure skating isn't a masculine power sport, but until you've seen Don explode into a quadruple lutz on the ice, you simply don't know power. Period.

Agility - the ability to perform a series of explosive power movements in rapid succession in opposing directions (e.g. ZigZag running or cutting movements). The most agile of the group is Skul. Pictured here playing lacrosse (the most demanding of agility sports), Skul excels on and off the field with sucessful DJ endeavors. And, he tells me he's a level 58 elite rare mob skeletal mage found in Stratholme which I don't understand, but apparently is some new sport that nobody even knows about yet, not even me. Ingenuity and agility. He has it all.

Flexibility - the ability to achieve an extended range of motion without being impeded by excess tissue, i.e. fat or muscle (e.g. executing a leg split). Ray (short for Ray-Anne) is a world-renowned fitness yoga and pilates instructor. It's no surprise she takes the flexibility prize on this one. An important thing to note about Ray is that she exudes confidence in all she does and has more heart than any of us. Truly inspiring.

Cardiovascular Endurance - the heart's ability to deliver blood to working muscles and their ability to use it (e.g. running long distances). Earl is a true champion. He runs like the wind, and for incredibly long distances. That's not all that's long about Earl. He also has a long track record for winning races. Earl practically invented the 3 minute mile and keeps pushing the envelope, athletically.

A common interest of these superior athletes is the website they actively participate in. It's called but don't let the name fool you. Some inside information about the site that most people (thankfully) don't know, is that the site is meant to lure sports haters and single them out for what I would call a strong, dedicated bullying regimen. They pull out the wimps, and then teach them a lesson. Although not a required element of being a jock, the bullying is prevalent in our sport enthusiast culture, a phenomenon these athletes are singlehandedly ensuring the continuation of. But don't spread that around, or it defeats the purpose. Instead, if you see them in the locker room, just linger a little longer on the high five and knowing glance you share, or give them an extra obligatory butt spank, and tell them it's from me. These guys are truly a credit to their craft and they stay in character perfectly, no matter what comes at them.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Guess who's going to Stamp Camp?

One of the (few) perks of having kids is that having them gets you into places you normally wouldn't be allowed to go. Family bathrooms are one of the best examples of this. It's not that I mind the communal nature of public washrooms. I've been in and out of locker rooms since I was 3 years old. Having the boys out in public is a normal part of any day. I prefer the family bathrooms for opportunities like this, where I can update my blog and my kids are contained with me in here. A side note: why do all these public washrooms have all those sinks in them. Does anybody even use them?

Probably the best advantage of having kids is that the Calgary Stampeders seem to like them. They'll sign an autograph for a kid way before they'll sign one for a 31 year old with an F.U.E.E (I hate the Eskies by the way) shirt on even if he has a pretty sizeable and visible Stampeders tattoo. The Stamps won't even let you come to their practices unless you have kids with you. (Before I had mine, I did a lot of weekend baby-sitting, until their parents clued in. It wasn't THAT cold.) And the only way they'll let you sit on the sidelines during Stampeders Camp is if you bring your kids. They're even checking ID now. Even better: if one of your kids looks a little "off", you get bumped to the front, no questions asked. Lucky me, then. One of my kids looks a bit slow, so I put him on my lap and watch the Stamps right next to the sidelines. If anyone asks me to move, or leave, I just hold up my kid and they basically have to shut up. If they don't I just shout for Dickenson and he'll sort it out, although I think he's getting a little tired of it, because last time he asked me to move back a little bit and let the children see the practice.
Coming up, on the 17th, they play the BC Lions. I think the Lions are a bunch of wimps and would like to direct any Lions fans to this commercial for their team.

Stay Fresh!

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Great at sports, bad at technoloy.

I joined a Canucks forum, nervous and unsure of how one conducts themself on a forum. This was my first experience doing such a thing. I posted some replies to some interesting, and some funny threads, in the hopes of making some connections, and enlightening some sports fans. Here's what happened:

The lesson I learned is don't plug your blog on an internet forum. The quote from the forum that stings the most:

"This site you keep talking about: to be about gay porn stars and their love all things Leafs. Disguisting mate. Why would you bring that to this board? "

-Rob Zepp

And the result:

The bitter end.

And for a long time, too:

On the bright side, I was introduced to a new musician, Bedbeats. Here's his site: . I'm not sure if I get it, but it sure sounds cool.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Which wrestler has the best dramatic entrance?

I read that question on Yahoo! answers today. A valid question, one that deserved to be answered in a creative way. Kudos to Haris for taking it to the next level and using a Haiku (I think) to answer:

Wrestling... The first WWE champ was Buddy Rogers in 1963. The most recent is Randy Orton in 2009. In between the two championships is a rich tapestry of story and thrills. From the political implications of Hulk Hogan pummeling the Iron Sheik, to the rule breaker Superstar Billy Graham being beat at his own game by Bob Backlund, to the Sumo spirit of Yokozuna, to the 10-year comeback of Hulk Hogan, to the Hollywood career of The Rock, to the totally unexpected championship win of Mr. McMahon, to the wildly sucessful political career of Jesse Ventura, this sport has it all. Drama, intrigue, spirit, agility. If it's guilty of anything it's of being not commercial enough. Here's the wrestling entrance theme song lyrics Haris refers to:

Superstar Billy Graham shaking hands with the best.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Move over, world-cup-obsessed-chinese-house-fire guy!

I have been completely enthralled with the new Full HD television I recently bought and the HD channels I just got from Telus. Specifically, I got the Sports HD package (TSN HD, TSN2 HD, Sportsnet HD, Toronto and The Score HD), the Sports Top-up HD (SportsNet West, SportsNet Ontario), and the Sports Extra HD (Raptors HD). I've been holed up in my living room for almost 2 weeks straight now. I don't sleep as much anymore, and people have said I even speak more slowly. That's strange, although it makes some sense, since it's apparently taken me 15 minutes to type out this sentence. But there's more. Here's 10 more things that have happened to me as a result of getting all these channels:
1) I get nosebleeds every morning now.
2) I damaged my couch looking for the remote.
3) One of my teeth fell out on Wednesday.
4) I've lost 16 pounds.
5) I havent gone to work for 2 weeks.
6) I bought another HDTV for side-by-side viewing.
7) I've been using a McDonald's bag as a toilet, but it's okay because:
8) My bowels stopped moving 6 days ago.
9) I punched my friend's mom for trying to turn off the TV (plus side: the phone stopped ringing)
10) I have subconjunctival hemorrhages in both eyes.

I signed a 3-year contract with Telus. I guess the future is friendly.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Sports Inside me

Even as a child, I was fascinated by sports. When you have as much sports knowledge as I do, you have to have started young, am I right? My favorite sports hero was Phil Grayfield. Phil played for the Chicago Bears but had to quit due to an injury he sustained from rescuing a child. He then became a sports journalist for Sports Inside, and among the people Phil interviewed was a scientist who developed a new type of football uniform. It was during this interview that thugs barged in and beat him, the scientist and his cameraman Ken Reid and stole a vanload of NFL merchandise. (Glass of O.J anyone?). This event naturally changed all of their lives and Phil went on to campaign against the use of steroids.

He really was a Super Pro.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

It's gut check time.

Due to the overwhelming ignorance of the people leaving comments, I was forced to put the blog on hiatus for a few days and take some personal time. I decided that the most theraputic activity would be wingsuit flying, so I grabbed my squirrel suit (named after a flying squirrel's abilities, not it's appearance) and my chute and headed to Norway with Glenn Singleman. I get a lot of criticism for wingsuit flying, mostly due to my excellence in the sport without having done the recommended 200 regular skydives ahead of time. My first jump was with a wingsuit when I was 9. I'm almost certain that my intense passion and fearlessness for skydiving came from my mother, who was the first skydiver to base jump while pregnant (with me) and have her chute not deploy. See a copycat here:

I flew home last night and feel rejuvenated and ready to put up with any degree of apparent sports-related-brain-injury induced ignorance that may come my way. You know who I'm talking about. And to my critics: I have the sport with the right pace for you:

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

This is Your Brain on Sports.

Curt Mueller won an auction for a piece of gum supposedly chewed by Luis Gonzalez of the Arizona Diamondbacks. My problem with this: Mueller isn't even a fan of Gonzalez. He only did it for the publicity to sell his own competing brand of gum, which I won't mention. The seller was Jason Gabbert, who impersonated Aaron Sele formerly of the Mets, now a minor league pitching instructor for the Dodgers. By impersonated, I mean he was charged with forgery for trying to open a checking account in Sele's name. But this was out of fanaticism for the game, and the athlete. I've come close to that degree of fanaticism. Fortunately I have several reasons not to get that carried away. The top five, in no particular order:

1. My IROC Z
2. The Allegiance Elite Marching Band
3. Lockpicking
4. Collecting Daggers (thanks A.J!)
5. Metal Detecting at the Sandy Beach park

I highly suggest to those of you who are racked with pain when your team loses to get more pasttimes, unless you're an Edmonton fan and deserve the pain. If you're an Edmonton fan, you should complete the lobotomy (you're so close!) and join a year-round cuddle party.
Any Questions?

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Football 101

So to discuss the sport of football, as in Gridiron, I have to go back to when I was working in Ballard at the Sports Medicine Clinic. I worked mostly as an x-ray technician detecting sports injuries. Seattle Seahawks wide receiver Koren Robinson came in with a knee injury. Some said the injury was questionable, but I saw it with my own eyes, with x-rays and fluoroscopy, and it was definitely real. I was filling out my diagnostic forms, as usual, but Koren wasn't putting his socks and shoes back on as instructed. He seemed to be hesitating. I looked over at him. He said, "Doc, there one more thing." I told him I'm not a doctor, just a technician and asked him what it was. "Can you x-ray me here?" he said as he pointed to his abdomen. He seemed a little nervous. I told him it isn't standard procedure to use these particular machines for x-rays that aren't on the extremeties, but he strongly insisted. What could I do, it was friggin' Koren Robinson. So I x-rayed him and brought the x-ray film back to the developer tech in an envelope (Koren insisted on privacy). When I picked the developed film up from down the hall the developer tech asked what it was because it looked "serious" I said it was a private matter. Koren took an x-ray out of the envelope and held it up to the viewer and said "turn it on." So I did. I was standing right there, I couldn't not look at it. Right there in the middle of his stomach was a white silouette of a common house key. He muttered something about an initiation mixed with words I'll not repeat here and put the x-ray back in the envelope and walked out. So if I have any apprehension about football, that's why. I think theres a strange underbelly in football culture that the media doesn't report, and most people don't know about. I think a lot of teams use humiliating and often dangerous initiation rituals that should be investigated and until they are, I'll never feel right watching a football game, although I rarely miss a Stamps game.

And I kept the original x-ray.

Monday, May 4, 2009

The Most Exciting Two Minutes in Sports

I do this every year. I get SO excited about the Kentucky Derby that I fly down to Churchill Downs the first weekend in May only to be faced with disappoint-ment. For starters, their mint juleps aren't as good as the ones I make in my home. That's only fair though, because I bartend competitively. As a side note, Tom Cruise's flair "bartending" in the film Coctail is pretty pathetic. Here's some guys I've competed against. They're called the Pour Boys and they're really cool guys with a lot of style. You can hear at the beginning of the video the cameraman says "It's recording" then Freddie B asks "this is for Craig Storm?" Well you know who that is.

Enough about that, for now. I could probably fill a whole other blog about that. What disappointed me about the KY Derby was misinformation I was given regarding a horse. See what happens when I let someone else research for me? The horse Doctor Rap dumped his jockey and ran over the back of filly Raspberry Miss. Well that jockey was Tony Farino. And which horse was he supposed to be riding, according to my stupid friend? Only Big Brown, the horse I bet thousands on. Well due to the injuries he sustained that fateful day that Miss Raspberry died from a shattered pelvis, another jockey had to ride my favoured horse. It was Kent Desormeaux of which I am not a fan. I kept my bet on Big Brown after I learned this, because of his amazing win in '08 where runner-up filly Eight Belles collapsed. Well the odds were not good enough and I ended up winning on all bets except this one. It really makes me want to skip the KY Derby next year, but I say that every year. I am considering writing a book on thoroughbred horseracing tradgedies and their affect on gambling. I've pitched the idea to Vintage, but now that they have a book in Oprah's book club they won't give me the time of day. I refuse to go independant again. I thought Oprah liked sports after seeing her Olympics episode. Maybe I was wrong?

Friday, May 1, 2009

Shaquille O'Neal

What's up number 32?! Shaq is my all-time fave basketball player. It's not a difficult choice, given what he's brought to the sport. He's played on the Lakers and the Heat, but I'm most excited watching him in the Suns. He's 7' 1" tall and weighs 325 pounds and has been playing for sixteen years. His salary is $21 million a year. I hope one day to rake in that kind of dough, but in the meantime, I play the lottery a lot.

Everyone knows he's a great basketball player. But there are SO MANY other cool things about him that nobody really knows. For example, he's got Superman lights in his home movie theater, a superman symbol on the floor of that room and a big superman blanket there too. We're kindred spirits, because Superman Returns was one of my favorite movies of all time. Clearly he's a movie buff, because he's even been in a few pretty good movies.

Since this is a sports blog, and I've had a few complaints that I've been straying away from my first love, I'll post some info about his '08-'09 season. He was co-MVP with Kobe Bryant (what a hack) and led the Suns to second place in their division. They sure needed him! He averaged 18 points, 9 rebounds and 1.6 blocks in the first half of the season.

Reebok Shaq Attack shoes with pumps!

He can flat out play.

Calgary Minor Hockey Boundary Changes

In Calgary, they've reviewed the boundaries for where each rink should get its players from. They've considered several things:
1) Association size
2) Ice per player (Including ice time per Timbit)
3) Impact of change on players
4) Financial impact
5) Other (such as sustainability, future demographics, geography, community charters, and changes to association governance).

I'm quite relieved that Hockey Calgary will recommend grandfathering for graduating Bantams (1994), but wish they would also recommend it for the younger siblings.

I was in attendance for the proposal vote yesterday at the Coast Plaza Hotel and was pleased that much of my feedback had been considered and implemented. I was mostly concerned about the future state of the Timbits (ages 4 - 8), as I like to put some friendly wagers on the outcomes of their games. It's like the roulette of sports gambling.

Need I say more?

I also attended the Timbits Jamboree in March, which was attended by Farley from the Calgary Hitmen, Derrick from the Calgary Roughnecks and Slider from the Calgary Vipers. It was refreshing to see them all in the same place at it made many childhood memories flood back. It seemed inappropriate though, that the Stampeders Cheerleaders were there in uniform. Their outfits are not exactly modest. What gives, Stamps?

They're still missing a few pieces to the puzzle.