Exceptions to the rule

There are a few rules I live by.  Some are completely moral in nature, some religious, some ethical, and of course, there’s the law.  We all have these rules we live by, and we follow them with similar motivation.  To get through this life with as clear a conscience as possible, and to be happy in this life, and, perhaps the next.

There are exceptions though, to these rules.  Sometimes the exception is built into the various moral, ethical, or legal codes.  Sometimes, it is case by case.  Either way, all of these rules, have an exception to them.

Example.  I NEVER leave a baseball game before it is over.  This is not to say I go to every baseball game.  However, when I do go, I can’t stand the thought of leaving early.  I don’t care if it is threatening rain, gone 65 innings, or if I have work tomorrow.  I simply do not leave.

Today, I went to my third ballgame of the weekend.  Friday night, I was invited my a friend I made at the 15 inning baseball game between the Orioles and Yankees.  Yesterday, I went to the game between the Frederick Keys and Lynchburg Hillcats.  Today, I went back for the Rays-Orioles series finale

However, there are times when it may be, umm, forgivable, to depart from the ballpark before an official game has been completed.  Say, you have with you, a restless toddler who is crashing fast.   Yes, perhaps in this case, I can’t be upset at the fact that we had tomake our exit in haste after only 5 1/2 innings.

Unfortunately, the Orioles did end up losing anyway.  Home teams that I saw this weekend were 1-2, winning only on Friday night (please, no Rebecca Black song).

As I finish writing this, I’m watching game 3 of the Arizona St.-Texas Super Regional, and hearing chants of “TEXAS FIGHT!” Winner goes to the College World Series.  It is the bottom of  the 6th inning.  Hopefully, I can stay awake and not miss the end.

Surprises

Sometimes you find out that someone is more interesting than you originally imagined.

Everyday, during the course of my official duties where I work, I pass an admin assistant.  I don’t usually say too much to her.  A friendly hello as I drop off the mail, then I am on my way.  

The next admin assistant I see is the one I am usually able to carry on more of a conversation with.  I usually talk baseball with her.  She likes the Phillies and I, the Orioles and Nationals.  We like to try to preview upcoming Nats-Phils games.  Maybe we’ll talk a little hockey or football, but mostly baseball. 

In the course of the conversation today, it is brought up that the first one is related to Ken Keltner.  He was her uncle.    According to Baseball-Reference.com, Keltner was a seven-time All-Star for the Cleveland Indians 1937-1950, carried a .276 batting average, and hit 163 home runs.   He was also a member of the 1948 World Championship team that beat the Boston Braves 4-2. 

What Ken Keltner is best remembered for is ending Joe DiMaggio’s hitting streak.  Every game for nearly two months, Joe got a hit.  On June 17th 1941, Keltner threw Dimaggio out twice. 

Once the three of us found his statistics page, I was able to tell her more about his playing career than she was.  She never knew much about baseball and didn’t understand most of what was displayed. 

The person who knew very little about baseball apparently had the stronger connection to the game that I love more than the person who could talk with me about it all day and all night.  Who would have known?

Is it “just a game”?

Society has a special relationship with athletics.

The first place you notice this is the newspaper.  Music, movies, television, art, fashion, and the like, which are all forms of entertainment, are typically forced to share a section.  World news, national news, politics, science, each share a section.  Local politics, obituaries, announcements, each get a section with each other.  You get the picture.

ESPN has 5 channels.  DC Area has 3 local sports channels, Golf, Tennis, NHL, MLB, NFL, NBA each have a channel.  Two channels dedicated to college sports.  Every newspaper has a sports section.  Every major market has at least one major sports franchise.

It is not very likely that local or state governments would pitch in to help build a movie theater, but millions are poured into arenas and stadiums.  Millions are poured into bringing the Superbowl, World Cup, or Olympic games.  Ask any one who’s old enough to remember, and someone could tell you where they were when the USA Hockey beat the Soviet Union as clearly as they could tell you where they were when President Kennedy was shot. (I’m to young to remember both)

I haven’t found fantasy cinema, mock Emmy shows, or taking Vegas wagers on an o/u how long a song is going to be on the Billboard charts.  I can’t remember a time when, as a society, an unofficial holiday over a Broadway opening.  No one has rioted because of a poorly produced show.

Yet every year, around the end of January and the beginning of February, Super Bowl sunday is designated as an unofficial national holliday.  March productivity goes down and people bet on their knowledge of Seton Hall, VCU, or Valparaiso’s chances against Duke, Kansas, or UConn.  April, as flowers bloom, ballparks fill up for Opening Day.  Riots caused by pure passion over soccer games have broken out in parts of the world. 

Sports dictate our lives.  Just as there may be one or two out of ten that won’t miss an episode of Cougartown, there are 4 or 5 that won’t miss a hockey game if they can help it.  We raise our kids on sports.   Right after saying mommy, daddy, no, yes, kids learn Go, Sox! 

I am among the guiltiest.  And this time of year is addicting to me.  While I have not payed one bit of attention to the NCAA tournament last month, I now have baseball and hockey.  This almost requires me to constantly flip between two baseball teams and the Hockey playoffs.  I am sure I am not the only one. 

Last night, I nearly had a heart attack as the Capitals went to double overtime.  Living and dying with every shot, penalty, or turnover.  Unable to relax even during the intermissions.

Mood swings were worse than almost anyone as the Caps went down 3-0.  Then the massive comeback in the third period and now the pressure was on.  The game had an effect on me I’ve never felt anywhere else. 

Heart was pounding. Thoughts were racing.  It took every ounce of energy to not wake up my neighbors.  Every Capitals chance was an exercize in anticipation and disappointment.  Every Rangers chance was an exercize in anxiety and relief.  A Rangers penalty was a cause of hope, while a Capitals penalty was a cause of dread. 

Finally, about 7:30 left in the second overtime period, was a climax.  A release.  Chimera pounds a loose rebound on the line in.  Excitement, relief, joy, all at once.  All of the nerves that had built up and stored energy finally could come out all at once. 

  I play a few games as a hobby.  I have never once had an emotional roller coaster ride like this one while playing poker.  Scrabble and Monopoly do not have this effect on anyone.  While I was dancing in my apartment, 20,000+ hung their heads low in New York as they exited the arena. 

Watch everything from cricket in India, rugby in New Zealand, Hockey, Basketball, Football, Baseball here, and Soccer just about anywhere. They are sports.  Watch the emotion on the field and in the stands.  Is this truly just a game?

Way too much time on your hands

Some things are enough to make a person shake his head and sigh.  Sometimes its watching a friend act like a fool.  Sometimes its reading a horrible poem written by someone who thinks he has talent.  Maybe its reading about an escaped animal.

Maybe it is coming across that escaped animal’s twitter feed.

I might have just heard that collective sigh from whoever has actually been reading this blog. So let me explain.

It has not been all that long ago that the story broke that an Egyptian cobra escaped from the Bronx Zoo in New York City.  As soon as the escape was noticed, the zoo’s reptile house was closed, and it is assumed by zoo officials that the cobra is inside.  They say it is very unlikely to come across the snake out in the open, since these snakes tend to prefer enclosures to open areas.

Enter the internet age into this play.  This snake not only escaped, but has access to, at the very least, a smartphone.  This snake is now broadcasting exactly where he is.  It’s amazing they haven’t found him yet, because according to twitter, @BronxZoosCobra has over 153,000 followers. 

Not only that, one of his cyber-stalkers is @NewYorkMongoose.  One would think that our asp would have taken notice and run on the DL for a while, as I’m sure that Mongoose is looking for some good NYC cooking. 

At least that is how things are playing out if you want to get lost in that world.  It would not be that hard to, because those accounts actually do exist on twitter.  What this really shows is that some people have way too much time on their hands.  This of course is nothing new if you try to look at how many fake Charlie Sheens, Lindsay Lohans, and other public figure accounts there are. 

Making fun of celebrities on the fall is bad enough, though it happens because it is easy.  But what does a snake offer for comedy?  Well when it is deadly and escapes from a zoo in the biggest city in America, apparently quite a bit.  Maybe we should sign him up for Foursquare or Yelp.  Make it even easier to track him down.

A minor annoyance.

For those of you who don’t know, I work in the Mail Room at a satellite internet providor.  This means that I get to work with a machine designed to post a large number of envelopes in a relatively short period of time. 

The problem with a machine this fast is it sometimes skips an envelope or two.  Not a huge deal.  Usually we catch them and get them stamped.  On a rare occaision, they come back to us from the Post Office.  Then things can get interesting.

When you get a letter back from the post office, it usually has a note.  The note is either rubber stamped, hand written, or in the form of a pre-printed label.  Whatever form it comes in, it simply says “Returned for Postage.”  When it’s in the rubber stamp or hand written form, not a problem because it is strategically placed in the upper right corner and can be covered with a label of our own. 

Its the labels that get annoying.  They all say “Affix Postage, remove this label, and send.”  The first and third would be of little issue.  Removing the label is what gets annoying. 

When I first started working here, most of the labels came off very cleanly.  No problem.  Usually one try as well.  The label did its job, and didn’t leave a mess.  Life was gravy.  I could deal with those all day.

However, gradually, they started using different labels.  Labels that wouldn’t let go.  They’d tear.  Leave resdue.  Tear the envelope.  Refuse to come off the envelope so that we could post them properly.  What kind of sense does this make? 

Think about the irony here.  “Remove Label.”  It’s harder than tearing the price sticker off your car now.  The Post Office is probably laughing at my company because they keep telling us to do what can’t be done.

This is a call to action to get the USPS to start using the old labels when we miss an envelope.  Not be hypocritical by telling us to do something that can’t be done.  Not to have companies waste their money by having to use another envelope. 

USPS, change back to how you once were!

Surprisingly relaxing

There are some days that you realize you enjoy something you never thought you would. 

Writing blogs was one of those things for me.  I used to despise writing.  I couldn’t stand English classes for a long time because I could never get started or, many times, motivated.  Writing just wasn’t my thing. 

So one day, after I post a complaint about a wave of hatred showing up in the press on facebook, I get a lot of compliments on my writing.  I decided to start this blog.  That complaint became my first post of this blog.  And suddenly, I enjoyed writing. 

Well, today I finished something that I started unexpectedly a few months ago.  I only started it so I wasn’t bored when my friend dragged me with her. 

Let’s rewind.  One of my absolute best friends needed someone to vent to late last summer/early fall.  She calls me and invites me to spend the afternoon with her.  Of course!  I end up in this place called Fireworks Art Cafe.  The artistic bones in my body are this writing and playing music.  If anyone has seen my handwriting, you’d probably agree that I couldn’t do what you do here very well

In this place, you paint pottery.  Figuring, “why the hell not?” I pick up a bank in the shape of a stock car, and start painting it.  I enjoyed it somewhat, but didn’t think to go back until these last couple weeks. 

To my surprise, it’s still there, and I work on it some more.  And just today I finish the thing.  And it looks good.  Clearly not the work of a pro, but it isn’t bad for someone who has no painting skill whatsoever.  Even more surprising, I really did enjoy working on this thing.  It will be going to my nephew after it’s runs through the kiln. 

I will be going back to this place soon as well.  She says she’ll have some massive freakin beer steins coming in soon.  I need to do one for myself.

Does it really matter?

I am not an expert on social psychology or the impact of cultural figures on the minds of youngsters.  I am more a recreational advocate on not fixing what doesn’t need to be fixed. 

Just a couple years ago, I was told that of my favorite characters from Sesame street changed his name.  The rumor appears to be false though some people still believe that Cookie Monster is now called Veggie Monster. 

Though, while I had thought that, I wondered, “why?”  I understand the need to teach kids about healthy habits.  My mother would try to make sure I ate my veggies growing up.  Even today I’m not exactly pounding tomatos and broccoli, but I’m not looking for cookies all the time either.  I don’t think I had once seen cookie monster eat a vegetable. 

Today, the inspiration for this post was found.  Time.com has a headline that reads “Mr. Potato Head get’s off the couch. Meet Hasbro’s Slimmer Spud.”  Yes, a potato is skinny.  Since when do people not want the biggest potato in the produce aisle?  Why would our kids toys be different?

If this is just a “fun” variation of a toy, fine, whatever.  Just leave the original out as well.  However, if this is a health thing, think about this.  While some people might need to slim down to be healthy, plants are different.  A potato is a plant.  When plants are healthy, THEY’RE BIG!  A fat Mr. Potato Head, is a healthy Mr. Potato Head! 

Finally, they’re putting pants on the guy.  Maybe this is a small point, but to state the obvious, HE’S A FREAKIN’ POTATO!  He has no parts that need to be hid.  He’s a tuber with a face!  Why does he need pants?   

So please, Hasbro, while this new addition to the plastic produce aisle maybe exciting for you to market, I implore you to leave the original polymer tuber with a face on the shelves for my children, when I have them.

It’s about that time.

So around this time every year, people try to come up with the things they claim they will make it a point to do (or not to do) in the coming year.  They call these “resolutions.”  The point is simple.  Make yourself better.

Some resolutions everyone makes.  “Lose 10 lbs.” or “get in shape”.  Trouble is, once they lose the weight, they put it back on, or they get lazy once they’re in shape.  Someone else quits smoking.  They quit, until March when they slip and start buying more cigarettes.   And as such, the New Year’s Resolution was useless in its purpose.  We make them impossible to keep.

So therefore, I shall propose the ultimate New Year’s resolution.  It is easy to keep.  In fact, damn near impossible not to keep.  All it requires is for you to go about your life.  It allows you to celebrate the new year how you wish.  It doesn’t take much during the year.  And finally, come next year, you still don’t have to change a thing.

The ultimate resolution is: DON’T MAKE ANY MORE NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS.

Now most of you are thinking “wtf was that about?”  I will tell you.  First off, most of the resolutions are forgotten anyway, and thats why they are not kept.  If you won’t remember your resolution, then what was the point in making it?  Second, for the ones you do remember, you only feel guilty about breaking it.  And so not only did it fail, you feel horrible about it failing.  Finally, making resolutions makes it seem that the only time we can change is when the Gregorian Calendar resets itself every 365 days.

The New Year is fun.  We get together and party.  We are with friends and count down to midnight.  We sit at home and watch football (or HOCKEY!!) all day.  We knock back a few beers and a glass of champagne.  But it’s still going to be cold on New Year’s Day.  But to decide that is the very day you are going to change all of your flaws, all at once, is kind of pushing it.

So, instead of making a resolution, I’m just going to keep doing what I always do.  Adjust as I learn more about myself and the world around me.  My resolution is: F%$# Resolutions, I’m just gonna keep being me.

Mood Swings, Fast Greens

It amazes me how emotions change.  It’s more amazing how quickly it happens and to such extremes within a matter of minutes.  But such is the life of a sports fan. 

First a little background for what I am talking about.  Being a Redskins fan, I was in shock over what happened to my team last Monday Night.  I am convinced that game was a fluke, and have been since it happened.  Also, as a golfer, coming away with a 110 on one of the more difficult courses in the area after having only taken up the game this year, and most of my shots were gorgeous rainbows and learning to use my rescue club to full effect. 

Fast forward to yesterday morning.  Playing what I have to imagine is supposed to be the easiest course in Montgomery County MD.  The 9-hole Executive Course at Needwood GC.  I couldn’t get the ball to fall within 20 feet of where I wanted it to for the first seven holes.  I missed a green from 150 yards out off the tee with my 6 iron.  I over drove a hole with my pitching wedge into a lateral hazard on hole 2.  I lost my ball with horrible slice on hole three, then put my approach in the sand.  Hole 4, I put my tee shot in the drink with what should have been more than enough club to reach the green.  Then did the same thing with my mulligan.  My chip on the same hole went about 6 feet.  On 5, I sent my 9 to the wrong side of a sand trap under repair, then over shot the green trying to get around it.  6, my tee shot didn’t reach the green with the usual amount of club and landed about two inches from sand.  Bad day on the links, right?

Then came hole seven.  I lost my mind on seven.  Remember I said I learned to use my rescue club like a champ?  Another name for the rescue club is the hybrid.  Sent a club I can hit probably between 150 and 160 (though might be off on that estimate) about 20 yards and lost the ball.  Being allowed another mulligan, I shanked it.  Embarassed to say, I lost it in front of my parents.  Frustrated, no clue what I was doing differently from one week ago, I actually tossed my club and snatched my hat off my head.  Tried to walk it off and regain my composure.

After that awful hole was over, we come to 8.  I slice my driver off of the tee.  The ball, however manages to bounce to a spot that is very familiar to me on that hole.  After my debacle on the previous hole I feel ok.  I play my 4h from the rough and hit the shot I had been waiting for about two hours.  Perfect shot from a blind position on the hole.  It managed to completely miss the fairway, only because there is an area of rough between the fairway and green.  (There are two par 4’s on this course, 3 and 8).  Now I did attempt one chip shot, and maybe another.  Wasn’t thrilled with the one I remember, though I don’t remember if that set up the putt of the round.  Only about 20 or so feet (only?) but with about four feet of rough between the green and the ball.  It would have even gone in without the pin in!  The official score was a Bogey for the hole. 

About 15 minutes from tossing clubs to loving this game.  The ninth and final was a double bogey after driving another bunker.  Ended up with a 50.  No clue how after that round I got my best score for that course, but I did.  But can’t complain with it. 

I have mentioned before that my two favorite games to play have to be the most frustrating games on the planet.  I have also remembered blogging on here that you need to forget things that happen and just take the lessons from those things.  Have I ever mentioned I am the worst at following my own advice.  Leave it to the Scottish to invent a game that makes that point.  For the two or so hours I spent playing those nine holes with my parents, I hated the game of golf.  I was furious with myself.  I didn’t like what was happening.  So why did I later that night ask my friend if he could get off to play 18 next sunday? 

Things I’ll take from this weekend: Regaining my composure after blowing up at myself.  Sinking putts from the rough.  Redskins and Ravens wins.  A clean apartment.  Having friends over.  Any lessons learned in moving on.

Sick Sucks.

I am not a fan of this.  I feel like absolute crap. 

I really just needed to go to class.  Thats all.  Get through the work day, and go to class.  I had questions for the professor.  Wanted to figure out what I didn’t understand about the homework.

Instead, my stomach decided that it was upset.  I want to know what I did to it.  When the stomach gets upset, nobody does anything.   So not only did I not get to class, I missed some good stuff last night.  Didn’t see any of the Rays-Rangers deciding game.  Didn’t see the 6-round shootout between the Avalanche and Red Wings.  Didn’t see USA-Colombia in soccer.  Didn’t even see John Wall in a Wizards uniform(like I was going to see that anyway). 

Most likely, I would have missed a good part of all of this anyway, because of my class.  I would have had an excuse, I would have actually been in class.  

I still feel like crap.  I am not going to work this morning, and likely not this afternoon either.  All I can do is drink my tea, eat my rice, and hope I feel better tomorrow.  I already missed one of my Thursday night classes because of a holiday.  I really cannot afford to miss another one of those.  It would stink.

That all being said.  I hope to get plenty of sleep along the way.  And hope that this is just a bug.  This feels awful.  So I will leave you with this advice.  If you feel like your stomach is getting upset, appease it.  Don’t feel the need to fight back.  The stomach will win.