Game one was last night and the Yanks got thoroughly spanked. But the storyline for me, at the bar (while working) was not the shelling of C.C. Sabathia. No, instead it was my focus on these two douches, wearing matching Joba Chamberlain jerseys. For shame, dude. Any self-respecting fan does NOT under any circumstances wear the same jersey as his slightly plump significant other. Furthering his campaign for douche of the year, this is downtown Boston, sports bar. Sure I was the creeper that pulled out his blackberry and snapped the shot, but I figure its for the good of all humanity, so…yeah.
Archive for October, 2009
Ahhh, the BCS: where the computers do everything, and nothing makes sense.
To derive a team’s poll percentages in the Harris Interactive and USA TODAY polls, each team’s point total is divided by a maximum 2,850 possible points in the Harris Interactive poll and 1,575 possible points in the USA TODAY poll.
Teams are assigned an inverse point total (25 for a No. 1 ranking, 24 for No. 2, etc.) for each of their respective computer-poll rankings to determine the overall computer component. The highest and lowest ranking for each team is dropped, and the sum total of the remaining four rankings is divided by 100 (the maximum possible points total). This figure produces a Computer Rankings Percentage. The six computer ranking providers are Anderson & Hester, Richard Billingsley, Colley Matrix, Kenneth Massey, Jeff Sagarin and Peter Wolfe. Each computer ranking accounts for schedule strength within its formula.
The BCS Average is calculated by averaging the percent totals of the Harris Interactive and USA TODAY polls and the computer rankings. The highest BCS Average receives the No. 1 ranking, the second highest is No. 2 and so forth.
No it’s not 1984, it’s just the BCS ranking system.
How else could you explain why Boise State, ahead in both the Coaches and Harris polls fell from No. 6 to No. 7, as TCU jumped them. Much of this was “foreseen” by Boise’s “weak schedule,” but this is in my opinion the greatest misnomer in college football.
If playing in the Big East has taught me anything, it’s this: Any team can win any week. Schedule strength? Sure, it looks good on paper and probably looks even better to the computers. But to the players on the field, it means nothing. Every week has the potential to be catastrophic to a team’s season. I hate to point out the obvious, but even Div. I-AA teams can upset bigger, better teams. You still have to show up on Saturdays and you still have to win, and you’d prepare just as hard for Florida A&M as you would for Texas A&M.
“You can use LadyBag while standing, sitting or squatting.
“The design of the oval opening is perfect for female anatomy and assures safe and hygienic use.
“The super-absorbers, special granules within quickly absorb the urine and trap it inside.”
For more than a few years now I’ve been maligned by friends and family for making the 6 hour trip from Rochester to Boston without stopping to pee. Maybe because they found out the secret to my iron-man like road trip was not a bear trap bladder, but actually my hidden talent to pee into water/Gatorade/soda bottles while on cruise control. Most of the disdain came from my sister/girlfriend who thought it was “gross.” I think we all know what “gross” means to women….jealousy that they can’t do it themselves, its an anatomical impossibility. Well, not anymore ladies. Place your orders now for “The Lady Bag” (made in Germany….of course). Those crazy krauts have done it again: striking a big victory for women’s rights.
Word is the “Diaper Astronaut Lady” is all over this one.
My Sister’s Relationship With This Blog Takes An Interesting Turn: Hilarity Ensues…..(Editor’s Note: Ed Reed Does NOT have a bunny name Ray Lewis)
My sister and I have had a somewhat strained relationship between my career as a “blogger” and her career as a “sister”. I think it is more than okay to expose her mishaps and even post pictures of her to sites that millions of people visit (the resulting debacle is now mostly family myth). Anyway, she penned the now prevalent theory that my family subscribes to, “Rob, when you have a blog, no one trusts you“ Which is remarkably well put, and, in keeping with that theme I have to expose our latest conversation, via text:
Nicole Lunn: Does FS mean free safety on a roster?
Nicole Lunn: What does it mean
Rob: It means “feeling somber”, like when a player is down, or reflective.
Nicole Lunn: Lol I hate you
Rob: Lol yes, it means free safety
Nicole Lunn: As in, ed reed is feeling somber
Rob: After the passing of his bunny.
Nicole Lunn: Aww his bunny died?
Rob: Yes. His bunny’s name, oddly enough, was ray lewis
Nicole Lunn: Shut up
—(five hours pass)–
Nicole Lunn: Wait was the bunny really named ray lewis
Rob: Yes of course.
Rob: It was.
Nicole Lunn: Are u messing w me
Rob: R u stupid
Rob: Ed reed had a bunny??? Named ray lewis?? R u kidding me.
Nicole Lunn: I hate you so much
Rob: Oh no. Whod u tell.
Nicole Lunn: Lol no one but might have ALMOST sent an email
Nicole Lunn: About why the ravens defense started to suck
Nicole Lunn: Please don’t put this little convo on your blog.
Rob: Oh. Its going….
OTHER TITLES I CONSIDERED FOR THIS POST:
“You know your Notre Dame Education is Worthless When…”
“The Class I Missed In College: Sarcasm and Clever Humor 101″
Well this week’s sign of the apocalypse is two-fold. Mark Cuban says something remarkably sensible and….I agree with Mark Cuban. You know moments like this make me proud that I spend my days at “home office”…
“Hartford? The Whale?….they beat Vancouver once, maybe twice, in a lifetime”
My apartment is my castle. A kingdom, which I liked, but had no part in decorating. My job was simple: help move everything in (a bed, dressers, couches, desks) and sit back an watch while my girlfriend and seemingly endless parade of cousins got to decorate. Fantastic, I say. I had one duty and one duty alone. I was given the take of setting up the TV/entertainment center. Which, (insert manly grunt here) is something I’m genetically programmed to do. Aside from the HD Cables, Wall Mounting Kits, and my power tools, my point of pride on this whole thing is my DVD collection. Its legendary, the pound for pound champ. Wanna slum it for the night? I have you covered: Dumb and Dumber, maybe you want some guilty pleasures: Sure, I’ve got Dirty Dancing and How To Lose a Guy. Highbrow? Why not?—pop in Midnight Express or The Godfather. Well last night I let my girlfriend and her cousin pick the movie, out of 100 something movies what did they grab?
That’s right, freaking White Chicks. Now, I’m not saying this is a “dealbreaker” for me, time to cut my losses and head for the buffet—but, c’mon..White Chicks? Really? I might have to put the whole “engagement thing” on hold, until I trust her taste in cinema again. You know, she coulda picked “Sex and the City” and I would have thought “Well, geeze that’s not TOO bad” …but White Chicks? For shame….
A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of going to a Monday night football game. In the stands, I sat with my former teammates, joking and laughing.
UConn’s star cornerback, Jasper “Jazz” Howard, sat next to me. While Jazz and I were hardly best friends, we were teammates, on the same defensive unit, who shared many laughs and, of course, trying moments together.
“How are the guys doing?” I asked Jazz that night.
“Young, man,” he replied in a throaty, soft-spoken voice, which sounded strained but was always at ease. “Real young. But, you know, we still gonna bang.” (A smile crept across his face as he said this.)
Fast-forward to a homecoming game this past weekend, where I selfishly explored my own emotions on being at a place where, for five years, I was very much on the inside, metaphorically and physically. Inside the locker room, inside the huddles, inside the football mentality.
On Saturday, I returned to my home stadium, for the first time, and was very much on the outside. Outside the lines, outside the players’ box, outside the locker room.
After the game, I got to join my teammates, my brothers, in the fight song. I made my rounds, slapping hands, hugging and smiling, exchanging the typical locker-room jabs. I went over to Jazz, congratulated him on his excellent game (an interception, forced fumble and about 13 tackles). Laughing, he told me I was almost as skinny as he was, and I reminded him that he was still about 1000 times the athlete I’d ever be.
The entire time I was there, I was thinking, “Man, this is awful.” I am not yet at a place where I can enjoy watching the game from which I am less than a year removed. I was emotional about the smells, and on my long drive home, I had a lot of time to reflect on how much I missed playing, how important it was to me — things that in less than 24 hours would suddenly seem so much less significant.
I left that locker room. I came back to Boston. I went to sleep.
I woke up, and everything had changed.
The text messages said it all:
“Call me, we need to talk”
“Jazz is dead”
“S— went down last night”
I look back at that moment, from my Monday morning perspective, and I am embarrassed. A lot changed from Saturday afternoon’s pettiness to Monday’s deeper meaning. All my complaints about being done playing football didn’t matter. My teammate and friend had lost his life, leaving behind a family, a girlfriend, a daughter on the way.
Instead of enjoying the fruits of homecoming, remembering the good days, I am trying to make sense of something that is senseless.
How does a kid who makes it out of Miami — leaving the violence of his hometown by his own reckoning — get murdered in the seemingly safe setting of Storrs, Conn.?
These are questions without answers.
The violence of the football field is the stuff we can control, and Jazz was a master. Analogies between on-field violence and the outside world are often made, without regard to actual violence. And yet, in this instance, I have realized just how petty and fake that violence is. There are rules, whistles, referees.
Early Sunday morning, there were no such systems in place. My friend and teammate died at the hands of someone who clearly placed no value on life, and certainly did not consider the consequences of his actions.
Jasper Howard was a man of incredible character and work ethic. He likely would have risen to the rank of captain in seasons to come. I have no doubt that Jazz, while undersized, would have been an NFL-caliber player. He was soft-spoken when he had to be, but was a vocal leader on the field. He pushed, provoked and brought out the best in his teammates.
I am always grateful to have been a part of UConn football, but I am — without a doubt — a better man for having shared the same field with Jazz.
I am not sure there are deeper lessons to be learned here. I don’t want to live in a world where one of my friends has to die for me or anyone else to value life. But here I am, reflecting more and more, valuing my own life and my own situation in a way I never did before Jazz passed.
I wish that society allowed us more opportunities to stop and reflect, but it doesn’t. All I can do is lead my life, with my new lease on it, the way that Jazz did — with honor, integrity and a relentless work ethic.
After a homecoming full of excitement and nostalgia for me, I woke up this morning to several text messages which delivered some awful news. UConn star cornerback, and all around outstanding individual, Jasper Howard passed away. While details are still filtering in, it is here where I will take a step back from any and all reporting. Here is where I draw the line on my responsibility to readers and that to my friends, teammates, and br0thers.
Jazz was a great teammate, always an inspiration on and off the field, and was one hell of an athlete. My thoughts and prayers go out to his family, as should all of yours. Keep him in your thoughts. This is a tough day for UConn football.
See, this is your classic two-fer-one, double whammy delight. Not only do you leave this video with a renewed belief in the creativity and ingenuity of man, but then…BOOM! The utter disgust of our beloved Fox News anchor, equating a “Kripsy With Cheese” (my name) to suicide…and how about him listing the different ways to kill yourself? This is absolutely excellent. Have you tasted one? Have a picture? Contact me: TheFatWhiteGuy(at)Gmail.com