Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Chicago was an absolute blast. Thanks to Chelsey and Mike for their hospitality, enchiladas, and tatertot hotdish. Thanks to God, who turned the weather forecast in Chi-town from brutal to beautiful overnight, and thanks to the Beer Guy at Wrigley Field, who made sure that "those kids from North Dakota" did not go without service for more than a half-inning. Random thoughts from the trip:
My Uncle Keith loves scotch almost as Ron Burgundy.
Nothing I have seen live at a sporting event tops the celebration in the 10th inning at Wrigley. Nothing.
When you get hammered in a real city, you have to have your head on a swivel, what with all the train schedules and stops and taxis and whatnot. You can't just stagger to your car and make the drunken 3 minute drive home.
I think I saw Culligan Manor from the top of the Sears Tower.
The speed limit in Wisconsin might as well be 85, cause that's what people are driving. Put a dent in my passing ratio, which was still a tidy 639-26.
After introducing Paul to his hero (and Ryder Cup captain) Tom Lehman, I now owe him nothing for the rest of our lives.
How we didn't get booted off the El train for starting a drunken 4 man (and 2 woman) Royal Rumble on the upper deck is beyond me.
Don't underestimate PGA courses. They look approximately 27 times harder in real life.
The groundscrew at Wrigley, no matter how persuasive you are, won't let you pick leaves of ivy off the outfield wall.
Road trip staples: Stevie Wonder, Meatloaf, Pepperoni Pizza Combos, crazy sunglasses. Road trip cancers: Funyuns, country music, Rachel's Bad-itude.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Off to Chicago today to visit Chelsey and Mike, see the Cubbies play the Cardinals in a day game at Wrigley (thus checking off another one of my life goals), and going to the Sunday round of the PGA Championship at Medinah, hopefully to watch Phil hoist the Wannamaker Trophy. Road trip baby, Road Trip. Back with more details.
Wednesday, August 2, 2006
Just another example of how the man on the left, Bill Simmons, is actually my other self that got separated from the DeLorean, and that it is imperative that we don't run into each other while he tries to get our parents together at the Enchantment Under The Sea dance:
From Simmons's article on espn.com today:
Big Papi should have won last season (even the Yankee fans agree now) and seems to be in the running this year....The DH thing will hurt Ortiz in any voting, which doesn't quite make sense -- so if he played 90 games at first base and gave you a C-plus there, that would make him more valuable? I don't get it. Bonds won the MVP in 2003 and 2004 moving around in left field like Redd Foxx. That gave him more credibility than Ortiz as a DH? Crazy.
Compare that to what I said yesterday. What can I say, great minds think alike. I'm just waiting for my book deal.
Tuesday, August 1, 2006
Do you think it would be OK if we just hand the MVP award to this man right now? Do we have to finish the season for him to deserve it? I don't care if he is "only" a DH. That argument cost him the hardware last year, but if you don't think that David Ortiz is the most valuable player in major league baseball, then you are an idiot, and you can go watch the WNBA so you can have sports arguments with other fans who are idiots. I mean, Gay-Rod goes out there and boots easy grounders and throws balls away (especially in key spots) and he is rewarded with the MVP over Ortiz because he plays the field, allegedly making him more valuable. How is he helping the team by being a below-average fielder? You could make the same case for Bonds a couple of years ago, too. He couldn't even throw out his own hobbled knees trying to score from second. Ortiz could go out there and play a mediocre first base and win MVPs, but I guess instead he'll just go out there and get walk-off hit after walk-off hit, and not hit .208 in late-and-close situations.
Anyways, Oritz's dramatic homer last night inspired me to an absolutely magical round of golf at Poppy Hills on the PGA Championship game at Boston's. Coming off a ragged performance last week, I fired up a tidy little -21 (15 birdies, 3 eagles) to knock off the previously unheard-of course record by 2 shots, only needing 16 putts in 18 holes. That score will never be touched, certainly not by me or T. Nels, so I think I might as well just retire, as my arcade golf career just peaked at age 23.