Talking college football, careers, and having a hot girlfriend in Hartford with Jason Page on ESPN Radio.
Talking college football, careers, and having a hot girlfriend in Hartford with Jason Page on ESPN Radio.
Went to the Sox Yankees game last night. Where I met the most remarkable 9 year old of all time, JJ Warren of Winchedon, MA. The full story on the experience is over on FWGMLB.com and on NESN.com but a few other thoughts from the game….
A Fenway Frank is basically a pig’s unmentionables sandwiched between two slices of cake. It might be the most perfect food ever…invented/assembled. It’s not natural for “bread” to melt like that, but it literally dissolves in your mouth, or your palm if you’re not careful. I actually believe that on the 8th day, God said “Here, eat this, and wash it down with an ice cold beer….”
Navigating the men’s bathroom at a baseball game is a pretty good metaphor for why you should never drive drunk. It’s a bunch of guys, all trying to maintain, shall we say “professional distance” from one another, navigating a maze of urinals at high speeds, trying to act sober. The world’s greatest charade, all choreographed in silent internal narration, “You got this, you got this….” If you can’t speed walk in and out of a restroom after consuming your fill of beer then chances are you shouldn’t think about getting in a car.
Missouri Women’s Basketball players, Amanda Hanneman and Jessra Johnson reportedly gave the old heave-ho-there-ya-go to a male cheerleader who lived in their apartment. Justin Short (the cheerleader in question) will now be subject to a lifetime of taunts by all of his friends, teammates, and complete strangers. The details of the ordeal are murky at best, but one this is for sure. He got beat up by two girls.
Now, this is probably where you expect me to make some smart-ass remark about how getting beat up by a girl is totally lame, and he’s a wimp for not taking care of business. That’s exactly where you’re wrong. You see, I’m one of four children. Three older sisters. I spent the majority of my formative years getting the crap kicked out of me by women. Then, in the 6th grade I got punched by a girl named Courtney. I’m all for self deprecation, but this is 100% true. There I was minding my own business in the hallway when one of Courtney’s friends handed me a note. Something about being Courtney’s boyfriend. Needless to say, I did not want to partake in such a venture so I threw the note away. Little did I know Courtney was looking on as I disregarded said note. And all of a sudden there was a blur of pink “scrunchies” and braces, and I was on the ground writhing in agony. Two years later, in the 8th grade I got punched in the face by a girl named Alex, I took it like a champ. She too had a crush on me (apparently I was irresistible to middle school chubby-chasers). Fast forward to college, more girls, still chubby, where I tried my hand at dating a member of UConn’s women’s basketball team. Have you ever kissed a girl your own height (6′4)? Not to mention that she was a far superior athlete than I, having been a McDonald’s All-American. I remember rolling out of her bed after one of our sleepovers and there on her shelf were a few National Championship rings. Intimidated the shit out of me, and I never returned for another slumber party. Getting pushed, shoved, beat-up, and all around emasculated by the opposite sex isn’t so bad, ya see (now I get to blog about it). So I have some words of wisdom, even encouragement for Justin Short, the victim of this senseless assault. Keep your chin high, bro. You’re not alone out there. Embarrassing? Sure. But, look at me, if you don’t count cowering every time my girlfriend approaches me, I’m no worse for the wear.
“Uconn wins a FOOTBALL game at Notre Dame, the biggest win in the history of the program and you’re giving us 10 questions with Zach Frazer from August? Seriously? One decent quote from Lutrus and a couple 3 month old postings. This is what you have to say about this historic, monumental win? Did you see the Randy Edsall post game interview on NBC (http://soxanddawgs.com/2009/11/21/randy-edsall-notre-dame-postgame-nbc-interview/)? That interview alone was worth several paragraphs of “Thoughts from a Fat White Guy”, not to mention being down 14-0 on Senior Day AT Notre Dame and winning in Double OT.
-Love always, Diesel.
You know, I consider FWG fans a pretty knowledgeable bunch. And here I am in St. John, soaking up sun, deep sea fishing, throwing back rum drinks with the locals, and watching my favorite football team dismantle the Irish, making you, the reader look like an idiot.I give you a few old links, slug down another cocktail, and call it a day-well blogged. Lazy, Rob. Just Lazy. I’ll make up for it, I’ll do better, I promise….
It has occurred to me, on more than one occasion, that I am a career underdog, and I am fine with that. Not really great at any one thing. The old cliche, “Jack of all trades, master of none” probably best describes me. So, its time that I took a collective look at how life has treated me, now that football is over and I relegated to a life of “legendary status”(in my own mind).
I work for NESN.com
Excellent, absolutely awesome job. Kudos to Mike Hall and Eric Ortiz for plucking me out of the masses of bloggers and former athletes out there. However, I never got a formal headshot, so while I do have an awesome “real” job, my fat little head barely fits in the profile window (see below).
“Whats so bad about that?” you might be saying. Truth is, my chubby little face doesn’t look too bad. But then you see the look of real professionals. Like former Stanford baseball standout, turned sports editor, turned my boss, Eric Ortiz.
Maybe it is the fact that I provide no real service to the world, but nothing about my fat face says, you should trust this guy about what he has to say about sports. Maybe his opinion on food, or cholesterol lowering drugs, but other than that, (and as a general rule of thumb) never trust a man who looks like his neck his trying to swallow his head. It’s bad for business.
For those of you who don’t know by now (try and keep up), I’ve been part-timing at The Place (2 Broad St, Boston). In addition to documenting some of the experience (check here), I’ve also decided that Wednesday nights are my favorite night. Smaller crowd, but plenty of talent. In case you are looking for something to do on a Wednesday night, look no further. Why? Besides coming in and saying hi to me, there…well…other scenery. Here’s some of what you missed last week.
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″
Many of you might have not posted in a little while. (thanks for all the emails)..well in addition to moving in to a new apartment, I was back in Upstate New York for my Great Grandmother’s Funeral. Was it sad? You bet. But she was 106 years old, an unbelievable woman, a mother to me, and…believe it or not, a huge football fan. She was always more concerned with whether I got hurt or not, then she was with the outcome of any game—which was good in 2006 when we went 4-8. The picture above is from my freshman year at UConn when me and my buddies Matt and Trey went home to Penfield to visit, she cooked us a literal feast. Apparently I don’t get my height from her side of the family.
Anyway, more new posts to come….. Sorry for the absence
You can catch me chattin’ on all things football today at 2pm over at Rambling From The Runway.
UPDATE: Chat went great, including the guy who told me he had a crush on me freshman year (or, ehh, something to that effect). Anyways, check out the full transcript HERE
Well folks, just when you thought things couldn’t get worse in Gainesville, another blow to Tim Tebow’s immortality. Six Florida Gator players were held out of practice on suspicion of “swine flu.”
While no one has reported Tebow was among the six, I’m betting that Urban Meyer has him in quarantine. It’s the only logical, safe move. As goes Tebow, so go the Gators.
But this brings up the more important, and even less discussed, issue of team hygiene.
Staph infections abound in collegiate locker rooms. Yes, a scar on the back of my neck, so large it looks like I could plug into the Matrix, is in fact only one of many bodily injuries that is a throwback to my playing days. Only this one didn’t come at the hand of some overzealous offensive linemen. No, this one was caused by the draining of the golf-ball sized MRSA infection I had festering there.
Pleasant, I know.
Coaches want to build team unity, closeness, the whole “we’re a family thing.” Sure, it has its rewards, like, say, winning. But that closeness also means a lot of high fives, bodily contact and the occasional shared bodily fluid. Water bottles, drinking cups, weight rooms. Everything is shared, and because you really aren’t afraid of what your teammates might be carrying, you’ll gladly bat cleanup at the water fountain, ignorant of the fact that five of your buddies probably sneezed all over it only moments ago.
Coaches treat sick players with differing degrees of sympathy. For example, I once found myself with a stomach bug, puking on the practice field. I was afforded a few plays off and then told to get my fat butt back in there — I was dispensable.
On the other end of the spectrum, I remember when future first-round draft pick, and Indianapolis Colt running back Donald Brown (the nation’s leading rusher at the time) came down with a mild case of the sniffles. He was rushed to the proverbial ER for a battery of tests. Coach gave him the day off and sent him back to his apartment to rest up. (I know Donny will kill me for publishing that, but hey, I’m still a little bitter.)