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President Barack Hussein Obama. Get used to it.

The World Class Athlete...

...or douchebag. Take one look at the picture below and admit you probably wouldn't like these guys if you met them...



The guy in the black hat and shirt with the cigarettes in his mouth is the starting goaltender for the Montreal Canadiens. The dude second from right is one of the greatest, if not the greatest, players for the Toronto Maple Leafs, Mats Sundin. The winner on the far left is Kyle Chipchura, another young player in the Canadiens system. In case you still want to hang out with them, here's another shot...



So they're friends. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Seriously though, I knew guys like this in high school. They sucked. It's why we indoor kids didn't make it out to a lot of sporting events in high school. We didn't feel like cheering those guys on. Looking at these photos makes me wonder what the difference is between these guys and those meatsticks in high school. I think it has something to do with the fact that these guys are world class athletes and those guys are probably landscapers these days.

What bothers me even more, though, is that these guys are among the best in the world at what they do, especially Price and Sundin. They call upon their lungs to carry them through grueling hockey seasons and playoff tournaments. And here they are smoking butts like Europeans. FULL DISCLOSURE: Sundin is European. Regardless, it amazes me that these guys can still do what they do while also doing what they're doing in this photo and then go out and do more of this the next day. If anything, it just further hammers the point that these guys' bodies are gifts from God and mine is built like a chess player's.

I Am the Man

Math. Not exactly a strong suit for me. But my love for fantasy sports can make me do extraordinary things.

This is the first year the KB Friends and Family Hockey League (TM) will be hosted by ESPN's fantasy hockey platform. In fact, I think this is the first year they're doing fantasy hockey in Bristol. I was very impressed with how robust* the platform is, supporting an endless array of customizable options, including league and draft formats that Yahoo can't even touch. For example, if I had a stable of 9 hard core managers, I could make this a keeper league. You can create divisions, customize the schedule on a week-by-week basis, choose from 5 different scoring formats and playoff criteria, etc. You also get free real time stat tracking, something you have to pay $10 for with Yahoo.

In awe of this brave new world of variables, I decided that I would break my league up into two divisions (Crosby and Ovechkin) and create a schedule similar to the NHL's: Every team plays each intra-divisional rival three times and each extra-divisional opponent twice. The idea is to foster rivalries and hopefully create a little competitive balance.

Creating this schedule was not easy in word, nor was it easily done. After several swings and misses at finding a free, functional schedule generating software on the interwebs, I opened up a blank Excel spreadsheet and dusted off the old math engine. The thing hasn't been taken out for a spin since the spring of 2002, so it took several tries to get it to turn over. Over three hours later, though, I had my schedule. Granted, the more mathematically inclined could have probably completed this in less than 30 minutes, but I believe I still deserve a hearty pat on the back. I won't go into the boring details of it, save that there are 10 teams, each represented by a letter (A-J). Each row is a week, each column is a game slot, making each box a matchup consisting of two teams. No two letters repeat themselves in any given row. I rule.

	Game 1	Game 2	Game 3	Game 4	Game 5
1	) AB	CD	FG	HI	EJ
2	) EI	BD	GH	CJ	AF
3	) AC	BE	HJ	FG	DI
4	) AD	EF	CI	HJ	BG
5	) AE	BF	DJ	GI	CH
6	) GI	BH	AC	FJ	DE
7	) AJ	BF	CG	DH	EI
8	) AI	BJ	CE	DG	FH
9	) AG	DF	BC	IJ	EH
10	) AB	CF	GJ	EH	DI
11	) BC	AD	FJ	HI	EG
12	) FJ	AH	BE	DG	CI
13	) GH	BD	AE	IJ	CF
14	) GJ	BI	AE	DF	CH
15	) AI	BJ	FH	CD	EG
16	) AJ	BH	CG	FI	DE
17	) AG	FH	CE	BI	DJ
18	) AB	CD	FG	HI	EJ
19	) BC	DE	GH	IJ	AF
20	) AC	BE	FI	GJ	DH
21)	AD	CE	FI	HJ	BG
22	) CJ	BD	AH	GI	EF

*"Robust" is easily my favorite BS word in the English lexicon. Having come from a marketing/sales-ish backround, I've come to appreciate the meaningful meaninglessness of this word. No other word says "it's really good with lots of stuff" the same way "robust" does. When in doubt, always say "robust."

Put the Lotion in the Basket, Pt. II

Disturbed. Below are the psychotic ramblings that I received on a Hall of Fame reservation card this morning...

Look. I've had better nights. I've had a threesome. I've had a foursome.
You never will. I haven't, actually. [Illegible] . . . the things [illegible] .
. . A habit I suppose [illegible] . . . -ave from now on- Sorry about that. You
a guy? They were two bi blondes? A girl? Two guys w/ exactly the right bend. The
saddest think I know is that sexual fantasies are at the top of the fantasy
list. Beak that and you'd be golden. But you won't. Adam and Eve couldn't.

Can't you just picture Buffalo Bill carving that message into the card in his basement while wearing his skin suit? My theory, though, is that someone copied word for word the contents of one of those virus spam emails. I feel like I've gotten enough of of those in my time to recognize the style. That is all.

Fantasy Sports

Reality. Let's not fool ourselves. Fantasy sports are very much a part of our everyday reality, at least for some of us. I like to think that I'm on the more extreme end of fantasy managers. In 2007, I finished the year with three football teams, three hockey teams, and about a half dozen pick'ems between NCAA and NFL football and NCAA basketball. I have a first place finish in hockey and a second place finish in football to show for all of that work.

This year, I boast four football teams (two of which are keeper leagues), a baseball team (currently 24 games ahead of the competition), and most likely 3-4 hockey teams, one of which I will run myself. It may look like a lot of work, and it is, but two things drive me: The glory of winning, thus boosting my yahoo rating, and the Christmas morning-like thrill I get from live fantasy drafts.

It goes without saying how good it feels to use your foresight and analytical skills to show up the people you compete against in these leagues, whether it is a group of friends or a random league you joined or got invited to. Winning doesn't just mean picking the right players but using them correctly, paying close attention to matchups and hot and cold streaks. Admittedly, blind luck also plays a part in one's fantasy league success, but doesn't that feel just as good? If you don't think so, imagine winning the lottery and pocketing $100 million for doing absolutely nothing besides standing in line at Krauszer's for ninety seconds while the guy in front of you collects the change from his purchase of Penthouse and chew.

For me, though, fantasy drafts can be just as fulfilling, if not more so, because they represent the unadulterated perception of victory 8 months before it even happens. I can't count how many times I've logged back on to my team page weeks after the draft yet still before the start of the season and just admired the team that I just drafted. In fact, I was doing it earlier today. And because I can't resist...

Stinkin' Root Beer

1. (6) Joseph Addai
2. (7) Larry Johnson
3. (18) Peyton Manning
4. (19) Antonio Gates
5. (30) Santonio Holmes
6. (31) Anquan Boldin
7. (42) Devin Hester
8. (43) Nick Folk
9. (54) New York
10. (55) Jamal Lewis
11. (66) David Garrard
12. (67) Chris Cooley
13. (78) Kevin Curtis
14. (79) Jerricho Cotchery
15. (90) Rob Bironas

This is obviously not a deep league. Only six teams with not so many roster spots. I don't care. I love looking at the stacked roster that I just put together. For something a little more in-depth, here's a league with way more teams, roster spots, and individual defensive players...

Tabata This!

1. (1) LaDainian Tomlinson
2. (20) Tony Romo
3. (21) Braylon Edwards
4. (40) Jonathan Stewart
5. (41) Fred Taylor
6. (60) Dallas Clark
7. (61) Calvin Johnson
8. (80) Kevin Curtis
9. (81) Mike Vrabel
10. (100) Stephen Gostkowski
11. (101) Ed Reed
12. (120) Adam Jones
13. (121) Nick Barnett
14. (140) Antonio Cromartie
15. (141) Michael Boley
16. (160) David Garrard
17. (161) Mario Williams
18. (180) Roman Harper
19. (181) Calvin Pace
20. (200) Deuce McAllister
21. (201) Leon Washington
22. (220) Ted Ginn Jr.
23. (221) James Hardy
24. (240) Roderick Hood
25. (241) Tim Hightower

The first Dance of Joy moment probably comes when I first enter the draft room and find out what position I will be drafting from. I have to admit, I don't always look forward to getting the first overall pick. For instance, I was disappointed to learn that I had first overall in the league immediately above because I didn't want to have to choose between Ladanian Tomlinson and Adrian Peterson. The 2nd overall pick was far and away the best pick to have in any football draft this year. Hockey will be a different story this year, though. If I get the first overall pick in any one of my hockey leagues, before picking Alexander Ovechkin without any hesitation whatsoever, I'll be as surprised and happy as this guy. Anyone out there want to be my studio audience?

One of the auxiliary joys of fantasy sports is devising witty team names. Obscure movie quotes and pop culture references are always winners. Here are my ten best fantasy sports team names.

10. Maurice DuBois
9. Broccoli Rabe
8. The Ab Abbers
7. Hundreds of Stuff
6. Stinkin' Root Beer
5. The Holy Rollers
4. The Frickin' Fracks
3. Enflamed Kaspar
2. Dueling Ted Knights
1. Flow Me

Honorable Mention
Puttin' On the Foil
Sather's Cigar

League registration doesn't start for fantasy hockey until the end of the month, but I've already been ranking my players and simulating drafts. And to think some league members want to add some financial incentives. This is going to be a good year.

My Old Man and His Grill

Comedy. If not for my frustration over the matter, I would have laughed out loud at my dad's absurd suggestion this evening.

A few weeks back, when I was making delicious meals for myself while my folks were away, our old grill broke. One of the valves was rusted to the point where you couldn't even turn it anymore, and one of the propane jets must have been clogged, too. It was over 10 years old, and my dad was clearly waiting for the slightest excuse to scope out the newest, spiffiest models. Naturally, he went out and got quite an impressive piece of grilling equipment.

Lately, I've been the go-to guy for grilling steaks for dinner. I've gotten pretty good at it, too, getting the heat and timing just right. So I wasn't surprised when my mom asked me to turn the grill on this evening. That's code for "you're cooking tonight."

Glad to ply my trade once again, I enthusiastically leave midway through my 15-1 throttling of the Washington Nationals in MLB 2K8 on my Nintendo Wii. As I make my way outside, my dad says, "Why don't you save yourself the trouble of cleaning later and grill the steak on a tray or pan."

...

Beyond annoyed, I respond, "Why don't I save myself the trouble of even turning on the grill and throw the steak under the broiler, or even in the microwave for that matter?" Sassy, no?

Now we're all the same way when we get a new toy. We want to keep it as close to its out of the box/off the lot condition for as long as possible. Unfortunately, if you're talking about a grill, you're pretty much telling yourself that you never intend to use your new toy the way it was intended. Part of the idea of grilling anything is to give it that smoky, flame-kissed flavor that you can't get any other way. You go about that by always allowing some of the charred remnants of your last meal to stay on the grates. I view it the same way as I would breaking in a new baseball glove. It's okay to chisel off the big, chunky pieces, but you generally want a little stuff on there.

Not my dad.

Dad intends to keep ol' Bessy Lou in mint condition and condemn his family to meals that were grilled but taste broiled. As a matter of principal, I now intend to boycott "grilling" anything until he changes this policy. Granted it's his grill that he bought with his money, but my point is that he never should have in the first place if this is how he intended to use it. So I have no problem telling him that he's welcome to make shitty food on his grill.

On another note, he asked the waitress at Bensi last night how big the fried calamari appetizer was...the one he's had before...every single time he's been there since the place opened.

Long Time No See

Golf. The last time I played it was 5 years ago with Frank, Steve, and Brophy at Scotch Hills. Today, I played golf again, this time with...wait for it...Frank, Steve, and Brophy at Scotch Hills. I shot a 108, good for a tie at 2nd place behind Frank at 97 and Broph at 112. I borrowed a driver from my dad because I thought I would need the extra club head (I did), and it did make a noticeable difference, at least at first. I'm talking long, straight drives. My driver juice wore off after the front 9, though, so I guess that newfangled equipment isn't good for much after all. I was definitely at an advantage going into today's round, though, because I just don't care.

I know many folks who take their golf seriously. Personally, I'll never understand that. I won't say that I don't relate to people getting worked up about their performance in competition. Hell, I'd be the last person to criticize anyone for that. I'm the guy who seriously considered leaving my college hockey team midway through my senior year because my game dropped off that season and I thought that it would be better for the team if I removed myself from the situation. What I mean is that I don't understand why so many people, mostly men, are so obsessed with this odd game. At this point, it's so much a part of white collar culture that it's ingrained in you one way or another, but I think much of it stems from a desire for men to be a part of the pack and play "The Game" (I don't mean golf).

From a young age, even I was told that I should play golf because it's something that men play and that you need to play it if you want to be good in business. Simplistic terminology, I know, but that's how it was communicated to me, if not in those exact words. It's just what people do. That alone is enough to turn me off from it. "F--- that," I say, "I won't be told that I need to do this in order to be a 'success.' Who says I even accept your definition of success in the first place." That was the four year old me speaking.

After having given golf a shot multiple times, I can say without doubt that there are hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of middle management to executive types out there playing golf and hating it. As for the rest, they probably think that because they have the time and the money to play golf or belong to a county club, they are some kind of success. I find that pathetic.

That being said, there are a lot of golfers out there that I like, such as Frank, Steve, and Brophy. And my dad. The point is that I don't buy into that culture and I believe I see through it. Don't even get me started on the elitist nature of the game, which really has more to do with my bellyaching about it. It rubs me the wrong way to see so much land reserved for the use of a select, relatively wealthy few. There are many better ways to use those resources. And to the phonies who point out that the natural integrity and beauty of the land is being preserved, I simply ask what's so natural about meticulously cropped lawns and trees, fed by fertilizers and pocked with man made sand pits and ponds and planted with trees that weren't there to begin with? If anything, it's yet another symbol of control by the wealthy.

So anyway, this is all that went through my mind as I drove to the course today. The only reason I went was because I enjoy any opportunity I get to hang out with these guys, especially Brophy, who's always away at seminary these days. I'm so glad I don't take golf seriously because for me, it was being able to laugh at myself and the others as we stunk up the golf course that made the day. I had a carefree attitude, and I was just able to focus on sharing the day with the guys.

This leads me to something else that I think draws men to golf: the bonding aspect. Let's face it, we guys aren't interested in getting together over martinis and sitting around in a circle and crying with one another. We avoid that kind of direct emotional connection because that's something else that's been communicated that men don't do. So how do most of us get around this? We talk about and try to play sports. Not too many of us are athletic enough anymore to do much, so we play golf . We can laugh at one another's crap shots and pat each other on the back for nice shots. We'll tell the same stories for years, like the one day you played and it was pouring rain and your driver flew out of your hands on your back swing and almost hit someone. And of course, most importantly, golf gives us one more way to compare ourselves with other men and prove our worth.

As for me, I'll still avoid golf if i can, but as long as I don't give a crap and the company is good, I'll still find ways to enjoy it.

End of an Era

Self-sacrifice. So ends the T.O. era of the UR Ice Hockey Club. For clarification, T.O. has been the coach/GM of the club since the beginning, making the T.O. era the only era of UR Hockey.



The club began in 2001, when a few guys wanted to play some hockey at U of R. One thing led to another, they registered as a club, found a handful of other guys who still had the itch, and begged Coach, this mulleted dominator of the Richmond beer leagues, to lead them. For a little perspective, this is how the team looked in the fall of 2002...

Notice how we don't even have half the number of players you would find on a standard roster. Out of fairness, we were missing two players: Bevans, a great goalie who was forced to play out due to our short roster, and Forty, a fleet-footed, flashy defenseman out of prep school. Back issues forced Forty to play through severe pain during half of our time together. It was actually quite moving to watch and helped keep me going when I had serious self-doubt at the end. Both of them represent the way Coach's selflessness manifested itself in his players.

The jerseys are straight out of the beer leagues, modeled after one of the crappiest jersey designs the NHL ever saw, at least IMO. The Godfather, Bernie, founder of the club, is the guy kneeling on the far right who looks like he dipped his chin in a bucket full of pureed Ring Dings. The stud in the black and blue pads on the left (yours truly) would have looked more comfortable in a high school JV game in 1999. I have a library of classic stories involving everyone in this photo, even the two quitters, and I could go on about this photo, but I'll just say that we had two things in common: 1) We all loved hockey and 2) We all looked like sex criminals. Oh, and one of those guys has a lower back tattoo of the NHL logo...

I didn't even plan on playing hockey past the first half of my junior year in high school. That was the last I had played, knowing I didn't stand a chance to make varsity. I focused on my studies and got into a great college. The summer before I got to Richmond (the same one when I met my future wife, btw), I Googled "university of richmond" + "ice hockey" on a whim and came across the primitive first website of this club. I sent out a "recruit inquiry," which I found was just a fancy name for Coach's email. He emailed me back and said he was happy I still had "the bug" and encouraged me to get in shape before school started so I could come to tryouts.

I ended up bringing my gear to school but chickened out at the last minute, thinking hockey was in my past and college was for trying new things. The day after the first tryouts had passed, "Zoo," Blondie at the right end of the second row, was going door to door looking for more hockey players to fill out the sparse roster. It's almost laughable to think about if it wasn't so pathetic as I look back now. Being the total gamer that he is, both in hockey and life, Zoo talked me into showing up for the next team skate (aka my first practice) and eventually pretty much every shady decision I made in college thereafter. Accordingly, Zoo is now one of the groomsmen in my upcoming wedding.

For a little perspective, 2002-2003 was the last year that UR Hockey wasn't a champion of some kind. He's how the team looked over the course of the next three years...







As Coach himself pointed out at the organizational meeting at the start of each season, "There's a lot of smiling faces in those pictures." The trophies piled up, the jerseys got nicer, but the bottom line was that we were happy. We were happy because we loved to play and because we got pretty good at it together. We played for fun because we played to win and winning was fun. Period.

Being a part of a winning team was certainly a highlight of my time at UR. In fact, I was considering transferring during my freshman year, and if not for the idea of sticking around and playing more hockey, I very well may have left. It wasn't just winning that made it for me, though. I never had a chance to be "the guy" on my high school and minor hockey teams. I got a late start and never reached a high level of play relative to other guys my age. My club teams never had winning records, and my school team was so good that I could never be a starter, much less a backup or third stringer.

At Richmond, as long as I put in the time and effort, I knew I would always have the opportunity to be the guy, and after two years of holding the clipboard and opening the bench door, I became a starter on a winning team. I earned some individual accolades, won some titles, and competed in a national tournament. None of this would have happened without Coach's commitment to the organization, holding things together so all most of us had to do was work hard in practice and games. Contrary to what most might think, I enjoyed my time as a backup. Coach made me feel just as important a part of the team then as when I was getting the majority of the starts in net. If/when I end up coaching a team of my own, I will always begin the year the same way Coach did, telling the guys, "Know your role; accept your role; love your role." I don't think I would have loved my role the way I did if T.O. hadn't been my coach. I hope I can have that effect on younger players some day.

This got too wordy several paragraphs ago, so here are some photos (many more smiling faces) of things that wouldn't have happened without Coach. They say more than I ever could.

We may have played like amateurs, but we celebrated like pros...