hold the line

Right guard*.

(Not just deodorant, but also the classic stand-up routine with guy decked out in shouder pads.And now nephew A)

 

“Holy Cow!”

“One guy is even thinking about putting a skybox up there. Can you believe that?” Quigley said at the time.

You should read this.

 

What’s Important Now

“WIN”

That was the take-home acronym from his* visit to the basement of Lewis Hall, early in my undergraduate years at Notre Dame.

Thanks for all the memories, Lou, and for your continued brand of humor!

As an incidental note, John Cooper was the OSU QB when my trusty neurosurgeon, Dr. Robert L. Campbell, was attending The Ohio State University.

And Bonus photo:

* View linked story prior to May 9, 2008; courtesy of South Bend Tribune.

 

sack it to ‘em

Way to go TEAM, and yet another Irish alum! Is it ever said enough?

“Defense wins championships!”

 

not written in an elevator

I’m working on something completely unrelated, and it’s funny that this happened, but I just thought of variations on Scrabble to mix things up a bit. You know how so many of even the more traditional “board games” have gone the way of an electronic interface… and then how at least some of the advantage frequent players have is in their feel and familiarity of bonus tiles? Well, what if the board itself was randomized at the start of each game rather than always maintining the classic configuration?

Wouldn’t that be wild?

I think it could be named something like, “Psycho Scrabble.” Or “Psycho Przybysz’s Scrabble.” (I’m sure I could come up with a better name if I experienced playing it.)

Other wild and crazy things could happen throughout the game, too. This is just the tip of the ink pen.

 

Hair envy

It’s ’70s Night, baby!

OK, now, admittedly, I still very much miss Chip and Joe.

But when these other dudes show up with such great ‘dos, I can’t help be a bit more forgiving of lapses in decent commentary.

Game on!

 

Mixed-up bizarro baseball

Several rally caps, even in light of a several run advantage. What’s up with that?

Chicken dance: check.

YMCA: check.

The WAVE: only a single, lone participant that tried to get it started. Yes, that would be yours truly.

OK, so before the game, I had this feeling that a wickedly-hit foul ball would probably come pretty close to me. Normally that wouldn’t phase me, but I’m a bit more cautious about my noggin these days. I told my sister about my concern. She pulled a batting helmet out of her truck (when we were at her house the first time and forgot the tickets…). I declined the extra protection.

Fast forward to when we most triumphantly make it to our seats, where I spot several fans wearing batting helmets (Okay, there were only. four or five kids, but I would’ve fit right in.)

 

“Put a tent around that circus!”

I think this one ranks up there with, “good seats, eh buddy?”

(The voice used in conveying baseball commentary/exclamations makes all the difference!)

 

we are the champions

An exciting finish for the championship game tonight–and I’m not talking about the rumble* in the parking area that necessitated two State Trooper vehicles, and their uniformed occupants, to address the situation.)

There were moments when the momentum dissipated, but the team pulled together yet again! (Home team; down by 1 in the bottom of the final inning, after having stranded 3 runners in the prior inning)

Overall great coaching and execution, I must say! (I know they responded well to the telepathic pointers and encouragement I supplied abundantly throughout the season. Fundamentals, baby.)

* here I almost posted about how great the parents, fans, and coaches were this season. I’m not even sure what the issue was–the scene looked a bit ridiculous.

 

the way you move

The pump-fake seems most effective if you don’t do it every time you make a move or take a shot.

 

You didn’t think I was serious, did you?

For the record, I don’t manipulate games. When I posted earlier, I was mainly kidding and one part fearful. On one hand it would be just for a kid riding the euphoria of a birthday, to have that extra element needed to defeat a reigning champion like me. “Intangibles!”

On the other hand, I’m still finding out things I do and don’t do so well, and to what extent. I figured I might be in the game fine to start, but we’ve often battled to the point when the air turns off because of time, and neither player having seven goals yet. And that was before he was 8! I questioned my current level of endurance, and changed my game plan accordingly. (I also failed to have quarters ready*… But that’s okay, because it seemed to put me in the company of the attendees who received goodie bags at the end.)

Okay, so I was all about concentrating on defense and not wasting energy. (I usually go all-out with slamming and ricochets… And receive like-wise, along with a few flying pucks.)

The birthday fellow had some great shots-on-goals, but I was right there to stop them. (Now I’ve never been able to do the splits, but had this been a game on an ice rink, people would’ve been holding up acrobatic score cards in appreciation of what it took to deflect the shots. Fierce!)

What transpired, though, is something that left me with little pride beyond the realization my hand-eye coordination is still admirable on a flat, waist-level surface. My most worthy opponent happened to knock the puck in his own goal not once, not twice, but what I think was three or four times!

* I didn’t really expect him to play today, with his party and all.

 

“C is for…”

Earlier in the evening, the question, “So who do you want to win?” was met with a fingerspelled C.

So, of course, with roles reversed, and the question becoming, “So who won?” the most appropriate response is an immediate fingerspelled C.

Clear, concise, consistent…

C Chicago? Colts? Win-win situation as far as I was concerned, so I remained loyal to raw performances.

How about the reinforcement of the concept of the importance of momentum shifts?! (Yes, it is true, someone in my presence at the start of the game declared that it would be a blow-out, and I knew that wouldn’t be the case even before the three-and-out that immediately followed.) When will these kids ever learn?!

 

various blizzards

Three kinds.

First, we have a significant lake effect event in progress. Beginning and subsequent photos shall be posted. (Cool: a couple kids are out playing in the snow next to the lake–ok, water retention area; but water drainage ditch view apartment does not have the same ring as “lakefront condo”…)

Second, there’s a blizzard of paper inside tonight, as I try to tackle a few things before Superbowl Sunday rolls around. (Is anyone else hoping for a snow machine to be used in Miami to simulate REAL football playing conditions? I’m exceptionally pleased with this year’s match-up, but that’s another post!)

Outside update: they’ve managed a great start to a fort! Ah, fit of nostalgia… OK, I should get a picture, but I don’t want to risk interrupting them or making them aware anyone’s watching. I’m not immediately related to them. Surprising, I know, because you would think I’m the only adult who would allow kids out to play after 10pm, and in temperatures below 20F!

 

Teach the parents well, and let the ponds freeze

Nd won hockey sweeping mich out the door baby luv u mom

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This was an unsolicited message.  I am beaming with pride!  And way to go, Irish Icers!

 

Concessions have been made by all parties

Geographic proximity, formal ties, informal ties, state-of-residence allegiances, alumni status, employment ties, colors, campus, mascot, what a certain aunt-knowledgeable-in-these-sorts-of-things advises…

The question is, after heredity/what’s apparently in the genes and jeans (given that the father and mother are not consistently clear on where primary forces of collegiate fandom should be directed, because of course, their wishes should be respected), what counts most in determining the promulgation of collegiate identification?

This is a highly controversial topic with profound and far-reaching ramifications, so I’m refraining from additional editorializing and trying not to skew the discussion by weighing in off the top.

Here’s one option, aided by bubbles.

The alternative:

Note: This is before I’ve even had a chance to expose Sweet Cheeks to, “Baby Irish.”  If you happen to be my b-i-l, please do not scroll to bottom of linked page.