Summer reading time kids:
These are in no particular order.
1) Top 10 Comedies That I Laugh At:
1) Airplane
2) Naked Gun
3) Super Troopers
4) Home Alone
5) Happy Gilmore
6) Major League
7) Clerks
8) Snatch
9) Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas
10) Empire Records
2) Top 10 Bands That (Currently) I Listen To:
1) Avenged Sevenfold
2) Bullet For My Valentine
3) Tool
4) Halestorm
5) System of a Down
6) Godsmack
7) Flyleaf
8) Shinedown
9) Five Finger Death Punch
10) Volbeat
3) Top 10 Things I'd Rather Be Doing Than Working
1) Watching Sports (Duh!)
2) Eating
3) Sleeping
4) Reading/Writing/Arithmetic
5) Doing a Crossword Puzzle
6) Being on a Cruise
7) Playing Poker
8) Pitching with a healthy shoulder
9) Traveling anywhere
10) Spending time with the wife...no really!
4) Top 10 Foods I'd Eat For My Last Meal
1) Pizza
2) Burgers
3) Ice Cream
4) Chicken Parm
5) Cereal
6) Popcorn
7) Filet Mignon
8) Mac & Cheese
9) BBQ Chicken Sandwich
10) Pancakes, Eggs and Bacon
5) Top 10 TV Series I've Watched
1) The Simpsons
2) Law & Order
3) Family Guy
4) Dexter
5) House
6) NCIS
7) Cheers
8) CSI
9) 24
10) Lost
6) Top 10 Action Movie 'Popcorn Flicks' (Movies that take no brain power to enjoy)
1) Die Hard
2) Gladiator
3) The Rock
4) Terminator 2
5) Leon (The Professional)
6) Kill Bill
7) Jurassic Park
8) Rocky IV
9) Tombstone
10) Bad Boys
7) Top 10 Movies Made Before I Was Born (1978)
1) Jaws
2) Star Wars
3) The Dirty Dozen
4) The Great Escape
5) The Wizard of Oz
6) The Rear Window
7) The Birds
8) Psycho (Hitchcock movies...get it??)
9) Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory
10) The Sting
8) Top 10 Sporting Events I'd Sell My Soul To Attend if My Favorite Team Was Playing
1) Stanley Cup Finals Game 7
2) Super Bowl
3) World Series Game 7
4) NCAA Men's Final Four
5) College World Series (Only one I've been too, sadly no UNC there)
6) World Cup Final
7) NFC Championship Game at RFK
8) Olympic Hockey Gold Medal Game
9) BCS Championship Game (Preferably at the Rose Bowl)
10 NBA Finals Game 7
9) Top 10 Places I'd love to Watch A Sporting Event (Because I never have)
1) Dean Dome
2) Augusta National (The Masters)
3) Churchill Downs (Kentucky Derby)
4) The Big House (Can Michigan not play though)
5) The Rose Bowl
6) The LA Coliseum
7) Lambeau Field at Night
8) Busch Stadium
9) Dodger Stadium (sitting quietly next to Vin Scully)
10) Indianapolis Motor Speedway
10) Top 10 Movies I Love That Haven't Been Listed
1) Rounders
2) Trainspotting
3) Fight Club
4) Seven
5) Star Wars
6) The Usual Suspects
7) Pulp Fiction
8) The Shawshank Redemption
9) The Silence of the Lambs
10) Chicken Run
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Celebrating 25 Years of Fanaticism: High School Pt 2.
Part 2: Sophomore Year
The summer of 1993 saw me playing baseball which should come as a shock to nobody. In my Little League days I was the rare left handed second baseman. Now that we had switched from 60 foot base paths to 90 foot base paths, it was no longer viable for me to stay there. Our team was learning how to turn double plays so in the last couple seasons I was learning the outfield and first base to keep playing. What I really wanted to do, though, was pitch. I had been allowed to pitch just 2 innings in my life and that was when I was 12 back in 1990.
Seeing as nobody was willing to teach me how to pitch, it was up to me to learn on my own. I watched plenty of games on television and was always playing, but I couldn't get a coach to let me try for real. Of course I also couldn't learn how to throw a curve ball or a slider and that was a big issue. I didn't throw hard enough to get by with just a fastball so I tinkered with grips to try and make the ball move. Every time I warmed up with a friend (I didn't dare try with someone I didn't know) I would manipulate my grip and throw to see if the ball moved...it rarely did.
I went through the season again without getting on the mound, but I wasn't going to give up. I would sit in the backseat of the car on the way to games with my fingers spread out over the ball to help stretch them out. I wasn't blessed with big hands and so I hoped if I stretched out my fingers it would help me with grips.
That fall I made the jump to Varsity soccer for my school. Our coach, Aurturo Jiminez was the spawn of Satan when it came to conditioning. I never realized how much running was involved in the game of soccer until that season. Call me naive, but at our school sports weren't the primary focus. It has always been known for it's academics and even now in 2012, George Mason was voted the #19 public school in America for academics. With such small classes, you didn't really have to be good to play sports, just willing to show up. I started that season (probably by default) and fared okay, scoring my lone Varsity goal at Ballou High School (deep in the heart of D.C.) a week after our game was postponed because of a school shooting there. Needless to say as a 5' 10" scrawny white kid, I didn't even put my hands up to cheer. I was almost ashamed to have scored and hurried back to the center of the field in the hopes nobody saw me.
With my new found freedom post soccer season I played fall baseball with a bunch of strangers. I had never really ventured out of Falls Church to play ball so I didn't know what to expect. When I showed up to the first practice I recognized a familiar face that quickly eased my tension. My friend Zack from school was there and what amazed me is that I didn't even know he played baseball! It was readily apparent that he was a very raw player which allowed me to mentor him on the field. That was all well and good, but his was our developing friendship off the field that would be the biggest takeaway from that season. He loved talking baseball, and was a Milwaukee Brewers fan, which was unfortunate for him because they hadn't been very good for a while. I was allowed to use him as a practice target for my newest grip that I developed into a pitch. It was a split-fingered grip, but thrown just like my fastball was. It came out like a knuckleball and although I could get it to move, I had no control of where it was going. This pitch was going to be a work in progress at best.
The 1993 season for the Athletics was a disaster. Mark McGwire was injured for the majority of the season, Dennis Eckersley regressed greatly and the team plummeted from 1st place to last place in the entire American League (yes even 1 game worse than the Brewers!!) In the NBA, my Pistons suffered a similar fate as they also bottomed out as the worst team in the Eastern Conference. They even lost four more games than the lowly Washington Bullets. The Redskins continued my unhealthy trend of disappointments for my favorite teams. They also finished with the worst record in their Conference and this was the biggest shock of them all because I was just not used to seeing the Redskins lose.
Luckily for me I had found a new, fun way to enjoy the football season that year. It was a new game called Fantasy Football where you and your friends got together to build teams of players from all throughout the NFL and compete against each other. As the real NFL players accrue statistics, we convert those statistics into points (10 yards rushing = 1 point, 1 TD = 6 points) and your starting lineup of players goes up against another team and highest points win. Back then we usually had to wait until the next day to see the box score of the games to see how our players did. There was no internet (well limited for most) and the recaps of the games on ESPN never showed every statistic we needed. I am pretty sure we didn't make it through the full season because it was so difficult to keep of and this would be a continual issue pre-internet.
The Capitals had an average season at best coming off of Dale Hunters' suspension. They squeezed into the playoffs as the 7th seed (out of 8) and got to play the Pittsburgh Penguins. In a surprise, the Capitals upset the Penguins and moved to the 2nd round where they were dutifully trounced by the future Stanley Cup Champion New York Rangers. At least they were able to beat the Penguins...god I hated Mario Lemieux.
My best shot at another championship team came with the Men's Basketball team down at UNC. They were the defending champs and added two future NBA All-Stars in Jerry Stackhouse and Rasheed Wallace along with Jeff McInnins. What the made up for in talent, that 93-94 team lacked in cohesion. Still talent often wins and the Heels earned another #1 seed in the Tournament. The Final Four was going to be played in Charlotte, N.C. which would give UNC a huge home court advantage. In the first round UNC won easily and UCLA lost which sent Trevor packing! On Saturday Kentucky was upended and Erin was sent home. Virginia lost, Georgetown lost and the road to victory and bragging rights became a who lot clearer. The Tar Heels drew future ACC conference mate Boston College in the 2nd round, but I was already looking forward to a Sweet 16 meeting against Bob Knight and Indiana. Apparently so were the players. Boston College led from the opening tip and after a Rasheed Wallace 3 point shot fell short at the buzzer, the Heels were done. I was in a state of shock like I've never felt before. I feared going to school the next day. If it wasn't for my friends teams being eliminated I would've called out sick. For a week. Or a month. I locked myself in my room for the rest of the evening. I was 15 and didn't know how to handle disappointment like this. To add insult to injury, the hated Duke Blue Devils went all the way to the Finals before thankfully being beaten by Arkansas...thank you Razorbacks! I owe you one.
I must admit, I don't watch Women's College Basketball, but the Lady Tar Heels had a magical run in the 1994 Tournament led by Freshman Marion Jones...yes that Marion Jones. It was Charlotte Smith that made the biggest shot of that Tournament, though. With 0.7 seconds left in the Championship Game the Lady Heels trailed by 2 points and were set to inbound the ball from under their basket. A pass to Smith behind the 3 point line, the shot, SWISH!!! I ran through the house screaming 'SHE MADE IT, SHE MADE IT!!' Nobody but me was watching the game and nobody knew what the hell I was talking about. If that had happened in a Men's game it would be the most replayed, most remembered shot in the history of College Basketball. Unfortunately it is a mere blip on the sports radar with only die hard fans like me giving a damn.
Up next: Junior year where I start driving, pitching and playing street hockey and my teams continue to suck.
My best shot at another championship team came with the Men's Basketball team down at UNC. They were the defending champs and added two future NBA All-Stars in Jerry Stackhouse and Rasheed Wallace along with Jeff McInnins. What the made up for in talent, that 93-94 team lacked in cohesion. Still talent often wins and the Heels earned another #1 seed in the Tournament. The Final Four was going to be played in Charlotte, N.C. which would give UNC a huge home court advantage. In the first round UNC won easily and UCLA lost which sent Trevor packing! On Saturday Kentucky was upended and Erin was sent home. Virginia lost, Georgetown lost and the road to victory and bragging rights became a who lot clearer. The Tar Heels drew future ACC conference mate Boston College in the 2nd round, but I was already looking forward to a Sweet 16 meeting against Bob Knight and Indiana. Apparently so were the players. Boston College led from the opening tip and after a Rasheed Wallace 3 point shot fell short at the buzzer, the Heels were done. I was in a state of shock like I've never felt before. I feared going to school the next day. If it wasn't for my friends teams being eliminated I would've called out sick. For a week. Or a month. I locked myself in my room for the rest of the evening. I was 15 and didn't know how to handle disappointment like this. To add insult to injury, the hated Duke Blue Devils went all the way to the Finals before thankfully being beaten by Arkansas...thank you Razorbacks! I owe you one.
I must admit, I don't watch Women's College Basketball, but the Lady Tar Heels had a magical run in the 1994 Tournament led by Freshman Marion Jones...yes that Marion Jones. It was Charlotte Smith that made the biggest shot of that Tournament, though. With 0.7 seconds left in the Championship Game the Lady Heels trailed by 2 points and were set to inbound the ball from under their basket. A pass to Smith behind the 3 point line, the shot, SWISH!!! I ran through the house screaming 'SHE MADE IT, SHE MADE IT!!' Nobody but me was watching the game and nobody knew what the hell I was talking about. If that had happened in a Men's game it would be the most replayed, most remembered shot in the history of College Basketball. Unfortunately it is a mere blip on the sports radar with only die hard fans like me giving a damn.
Up next: Junior year where I start driving, pitching and playing street hockey and my teams continue to suck.
The All-Douchebag Team of MLB
Watching today's Chicago White Sox/Tampa Bay Rays game got me thinking. If you were starting a team of players everyone loves to hate, who would be in the starting lineup? If you didn't catch the game today let me give you a quick recap: Last night AJ Pierzynski slid hard and late into second base, spiking Ben Zobrist of the Rays squarely in the shin. There's about one unwritten rule for players when sliding into second base, don't try and injure the opponent. Do what it takes to break up the double play without injuring the opponent. AJ doesn't heed to the unwritten rules. He plays by his own set. The Rays responded properly in today's game by plunking him in his 1st at bat. Message sent, but not received. AJ took exception to this and I suppose he felt slighted. I mean its not like he's ever tried something bush league like this before versus the Rays. Oh wait, what about this?? Later in the game, with Pierzynski behind the plate he called for Ben Zobrist to be hit by rookie White Sox pitcher Jose Quintana who is trying to earn a spot in the rotation with John Danks out injured. The White Sox led 3-1 when this occurred and after Quintana missed Zobrist, throwing behind him he was ejected. There goes your win rookie. There goes another chance to prove you can pitch in the big leagues. More than likely a 5 game suspension is ahead for him as Danks should be healthy by the time that is over. Thanks a lot AJ, you selfish prick. As a rookie, there's no chance that Quintana would ignore the maniacal wants and needs of his veteran back stop. I just hope it doesn't send him back to the minors quicker.
Obviously AJ Pierzynski earns the starting catchers spot on this team.
CATCHER: AJ Pierzynski
Outside of the example above who could forget this lovely play? Sorry for the lack of video, but the internet was too embarrassed by AJ's actions to keep it viewable.
FIRST BASE: Albert Pujols
There aren't a lot of bad guys playing first base right now in the majors, but Albert earns the nod because of his departure from St. Louis and his wife. He was supposedly only offered $130 million over five years to stay with the defending champs in St. Louis and apparently Pujols doesn't do hometown discounts. He took the money and ran west to California as the Angels backed the Dan Snyder truck up with a 10 year, $254 million deal. The angriest member of the Pujols family was his wife Dierdre who went on the radio (a Christian station nonetheless) and blamed God for this. Yup, you read that right, it was God's fault they god such a horrid offer and that was a sign to play for the Angels. Praise the Lord for all that money!!
SECOND BASE: Dustin Pedroia
I get it, he's 5' 9" in cleats, 170 lbs covered in dirt and he's really, really good (for his size at least...HA!). Nobody will ever be able to take away his MVP trophy and I doubt Pedroia would allow you to wrestle it away from him. He's plays with the heart of a pit bull and doesn't hide any of his emotion. He wants you to remember he's only 5'9" and still beating you. He talks about it, even when you're done listening. He's earned the right to talk, but enough is enough. And no, I'm not going to the 'laser show.'
SHORTSTOP: Hanley Ramirez
Wait, he's not a Shortstop you say. That's right, because he was deemed not good enough to play there anymore and was shifted to 3rd to make room for Jose Reyes. Some people will say it makes sense to acquire a talent like Reyes and move HanRam to 3rd. It does, but Ramirez forced the Marlins hand by being one of the laziest players on the field. Ex-Marlins manager Fredi Gonzalez even benched Ramirez because of lazy play in 2010. Gonzalez is gone from Florida, Ramirez isn't, case closed. We'll always have that stylish bleached blond look though.
THIRD BASE: Alex Rodriguez
This is an easy one, especially for an Oakland Athletics fan like myself. After watching ARoid...err ARod own the A's 18 times a year when he was with Seattle and Texas, Rodriguez earned HOF status in my book with his run in with future perfect game thrower Dallas Braden. Braden obviously went overboard, but Rodriguez bluntly stated: "He just told me to get off his mound. I was a little surprised. I'd never quite heard that. Especially from a guy that has a handful of wins in his career ... I thought it was pretty funny actually." Couple that awesome attitude with two $100 million contracts, plenty of October choke jobs, steroid usage and being on the Yankees...well you get the picture.
LEFT FIELD: Alfonso Soriano
Ever since Barry Bonds left this spot vacant, Soriano has done everything possible to lay claim to this title. Yet another athlete blessed with immense talent, he let his skill set all go to hell after turning Wrigley Field into his own personal ATM. The Cubs bought the rights to Soriano from the Washington Nationals following a career best 46 HR/41 SB season. In the first six years of his career, Soriano amassed 205 home runs while swiping 208 stolen bases. That's future Hall of Fame numbers right there folks! In the 5+ years with the Cubs (sorry Chicago) he has hit only 139 homers and stolen only 55 bases. It must be all the money he carries around in his back pocket that is slowing him down.
CENTER FIELD: Nyjer Morgan
Nyjer Morgan aka T-Plush earns captain status on this team with multiple douche bag incidents. Whether it be his brawl with the Nationals with his WWE-esque exit or his alter ego post game press conferences as T-Plush, Morgan has entrenched himself onto this team. This dude is crazy and not a good crazy.
RIGHT FIELD: Jeff Francoeur
I have nothing against the man, but that's probably because I'm not a fan of any team he's been on. After storming out of the gate during his rookie season with the Atlanta Braves, Sports Illustrated dubbed the five tool Francoeur 'The Natural' in reference to the movie starring Robert Redford. In just short of half a season in 2005, he hit 14 home runs with 45 RBI and a .300 batting average. Coupled with a world class throwing arm, everyone assumed he'd be then next big thing to keep the Atlanta Braves playoff streak alive. Starting in 1991 through 2005, the Braves won their division every year (1994 ended in a strike which would of snapped it because the Expos were just too damn good, but that rant is for another day). In his first full year with the Braves, Francoeur did okay, but Hank Aaron incarnate he wasn't. Hell he wasn't even a poor man's Dale Murphy. He has never hit .300 for a full season and only topped 20 home runs once in his career. He is also a devout and outspoken Christian which adds to the Tim Tebow like backlash he receives. For failing to live up to the unfair and ridiculously high expectations and for ending the Braves playoff run you earn a spot on the starting lineup Jeff. Enjoy Kansas City where careers go to die, I hear they have great BBQ.
STARTING PITCHER (Left Handed): Cole Hamels
Mr. Old School earned his spot on the team long before teaching Bryce Harper how the big leagues function. Maybe it was marrying money grubbing, silicone enhanced, reality show whore Heidi of Survivor fame. She stripped naked for chocolate and peanut butter on the island and then did the same for money off of it. That's the attitude of a woman after Coles' heart. I mean they are just such a cute, money grubbing, couple, aren't they? If he wasn't such a good left handed pitcher he'd have no redeeming qualities in life.
STARTING PITCHER (Right Handed): Derek Lowe
I'm getting personal for this one so apologies in advance. Derek Lowe struck out Terrence Long with the bases loaded to end the decisive Game 5 in 2003 ALDS ending yet another season of heart break for me. His hand gesture around his man parts towards the Athletics dugout is what sticks most with fans. He was exuberant and decidedly so, but it looked bad and was received worse. The Athletics had plenty of chances to win that series, but with a terrible base running play/call by Miguel Tejada and the umpires in Game 3, an injury to Tim Hudson and a blown 8th inning lead in game four to stranding the winning runs on base in the 9th in Game 5, it was a series to forget. The 'crotch chop' was the proverbial cherry on top and I for one will hate Derek Lowe forever.
CLOSER: Jonathan Papelbon
Take your pick: The stare? Stupid The eight minutes in between each pitch? Ass The dumb dance he does after recording 3 whole outs? Juvenile Everything adds up to a spot on the team. I hate the New York Yankees, but I respect Mariano Rivera who after a save does nothing to draw attention to himself. He's a professional. Not a back woods, country hick (too mean?? sorry Southerners) who acts like a frat boy on the mound. Act like you've done your job before and shake the hands of your teammates before chugging your post game six pack.
That's my list, I'd enjoy hearing about who I missed.
Twitter: @Wipps
Obviously AJ Pierzynski earns the starting catchers spot on this team.
CATCHER: AJ Pierzynski
Outside of the example above who could forget this lovely play? Sorry for the lack of video, but the internet was too embarrassed by AJ's actions to keep it viewable.
FIRST BASE: Albert Pujols
There aren't a lot of bad guys playing first base right now in the majors, but Albert earns the nod because of his departure from St. Louis and his wife. He was supposedly only offered $130 million over five years to stay with the defending champs in St. Louis and apparently Pujols doesn't do hometown discounts. He took the money and ran west to California as the Angels backed the Dan Snyder truck up with a 10 year, $254 million deal. The angriest member of the Pujols family was his wife Dierdre who went on the radio (a Christian station nonetheless) and blamed God for this. Yup, you read that right, it was God's fault they god such a horrid offer and that was a sign to play for the Angels. Praise the Lord for all that money!!
SECOND BASE: Dustin Pedroia
I get it, he's 5' 9" in cleats, 170 lbs covered in dirt and he's really, really good (for his size at least...HA!). Nobody will ever be able to take away his MVP trophy and I doubt Pedroia would allow you to wrestle it away from him. He's plays with the heart of a pit bull and doesn't hide any of his emotion. He wants you to remember he's only 5'9" and still beating you. He talks about it, even when you're done listening. He's earned the right to talk, but enough is enough. And no, I'm not going to the 'laser show.'
SHORTSTOP: Hanley Ramirez
Wait, he's not a Shortstop you say. That's right, because he was deemed not good enough to play there anymore and was shifted to 3rd to make room for Jose Reyes. Some people will say it makes sense to acquire a talent like Reyes and move HanRam to 3rd. It does, but Ramirez forced the Marlins hand by being one of the laziest players on the field. Ex-Marlins manager Fredi Gonzalez even benched Ramirez because of lazy play in 2010. Gonzalez is gone from Florida, Ramirez isn't, case closed. We'll always have that stylish bleached blond look though.
THIRD BASE: Alex Rodriguez
This is an easy one, especially for an Oakland Athletics fan like myself. After watching ARoid...err ARod own the A's 18 times a year when he was with Seattle and Texas, Rodriguez earned HOF status in my book with his run in with future perfect game thrower Dallas Braden. Braden obviously went overboard, but Rodriguez bluntly stated: "He just told me to get off his mound. I was a little surprised. I'd never quite heard that. Especially from a guy that has a handful of wins in his career ... I thought it was pretty funny actually." Couple that awesome attitude with two $100 million contracts, plenty of October choke jobs, steroid usage and being on the Yankees...well you get the picture.
LEFT FIELD: Alfonso Soriano
Ever since Barry Bonds left this spot vacant, Soriano has done everything possible to lay claim to this title. Yet another athlete blessed with immense talent, he let his skill set all go to hell after turning Wrigley Field into his own personal ATM. The Cubs bought the rights to Soriano from the Washington Nationals following a career best 46 HR/41 SB season. In the first six years of his career, Soriano amassed 205 home runs while swiping 208 stolen bases. That's future Hall of Fame numbers right there folks! In the 5+ years with the Cubs (sorry Chicago) he has hit only 139 homers and stolen only 55 bases. It must be all the money he carries around in his back pocket that is slowing him down.
CENTER FIELD: Nyjer Morgan
Nyjer Morgan aka T-Plush earns captain status on this team with multiple douche bag incidents. Whether it be his brawl with the Nationals with his WWE-esque exit or his alter ego post game press conferences as T-Plush, Morgan has entrenched himself onto this team. This dude is crazy and not a good crazy.
RIGHT FIELD: Jeff Francoeur
I have nothing against the man, but that's probably because I'm not a fan of any team he's been on. After storming out of the gate during his rookie season with the Atlanta Braves, Sports Illustrated dubbed the five tool Francoeur 'The Natural' in reference to the movie starring Robert Redford. In just short of half a season in 2005, he hit 14 home runs with 45 RBI and a .300 batting average. Coupled with a world class throwing arm, everyone assumed he'd be then next big thing to keep the Atlanta Braves playoff streak alive. Starting in 1991 through 2005, the Braves won their division every year (1994 ended in a strike which would of snapped it because the Expos were just too damn good, but that rant is for another day). In his first full year with the Braves, Francoeur did okay, but Hank Aaron incarnate he wasn't. Hell he wasn't even a poor man's Dale Murphy. He has never hit .300 for a full season and only topped 20 home runs once in his career. He is also a devout and outspoken Christian which adds to the Tim Tebow like backlash he receives. For failing to live up to the unfair and ridiculously high expectations and for ending the Braves playoff run you earn a spot on the starting lineup Jeff. Enjoy Kansas City where careers go to die, I hear they have great BBQ.
STARTING PITCHER (Left Handed): Cole Hamels
Mr. Old School earned his spot on the team long before teaching Bryce Harper how the big leagues function. Maybe it was marrying money grubbing, silicone enhanced, reality show whore Heidi of Survivor fame. She stripped naked for chocolate and peanut butter on the island and then did the same for money off of it. That's the attitude of a woman after Coles' heart. I mean they are just such a cute, money grubbing, couple, aren't they? If he wasn't such a good left handed pitcher he'd have no redeeming qualities in life.
STARTING PITCHER (Right Handed): Derek Lowe
I'm getting personal for this one so apologies in advance. Derek Lowe struck out Terrence Long with the bases loaded to end the decisive Game 5 in 2003 ALDS ending yet another season of heart break for me. His hand gesture around his man parts towards the Athletics dugout is what sticks most with fans. He was exuberant and decidedly so, but it looked bad and was received worse. The Athletics had plenty of chances to win that series, but with a terrible base running play/call by Miguel Tejada and the umpires in Game 3, an injury to Tim Hudson and a blown 8th inning lead in game four to stranding the winning runs on base in the 9th in Game 5, it was a series to forget. The 'crotch chop' was the proverbial cherry on top and I for one will hate Derek Lowe forever.
CLOSER: Jonathan Papelbon
Take your pick: The stare? Stupid The eight minutes in between each pitch? Ass The dumb dance he does after recording 3 whole outs? Juvenile Everything adds up to a spot on the team. I hate the New York Yankees, but I respect Mariano Rivera who after a save does nothing to draw attention to himself. He's a professional. Not a back woods, country hick (too mean?? sorry Southerners) who acts like a frat boy on the mound. Act like you've done your job before and shake the hands of your teammates before chugging your post game six pack.
That's my list, I'd enjoy hearing about who I missed.
Twitter: @Wipps
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Celebrating 25 Years of Fanaticism: High School
Chapter 2: High School (1992-1996)
Part I: Freshman Year
In the spring of 1992 I watched, really watched, my first ever March Madness (the Men's College Basketball Tournament). I was on Spring Break and down at my Grandparents in Florida. I watched UNC lose to Ohio State in the Sweet Sixteen, but it was later that weekend that I saw what turned out to be the best game ever played (and between two teams I would end up hating with a passion). The University of Kentucky and Duke University played a back and forth, high intensity, overtime game that ended with one of the most, if not the most, memorable moments in college basketball history. Even though Duke went on to win their second consecutive championship, this was all I ever needed to see to realize that the NCAA Tournament was the greatest sports spectacle. Three weeks of single elimination basketball with school pride at stake. I just hoped UNC would fare better next season.That summer the Oakland Athletics regained their winning ways. My two favorite players, Mark McGwire and Dennis Eckersley had excellent seasons with 'The Eck' winning the American League Cy Young and MVP awards which was an unbelievably rare feat for a pitcher, much less a relief pitcher. As the playoffs started I had high hopes for a 4th World Series appearance in 5 years, but it wasn't meant to be. The series against the eventual champion Toronto Blue Jays was highlighted (for Jays fans at least) by a 9th inning game tying home run by Roberto Alomar off of Eckersley. I still remember being crushed as I was watching the game in my living room. Although the A's won Game 5, they lost the next game and their season ended. It dampened my start to high school, but I knew good things were ahead.
At George Mason High School in Falls Church, VA students had to really love the building that they lived in for 9 months per each year. The school housed both middle and high school students which meant 7 of your first 18 years of life were going to be under one roof. Each class held less that 100 students so by the time you finished your 7 year term, everyone knew everything about you. No secrets were safe between students or between teachers. If you liked your teacher they would feel more like an Aunt or Uncle, but if you didn't get along with a teacher, you couldn't escape them and very possibly they would teach you two different years.
Around 9th grade I had already expected to be moving away from Falls Church. Both my parents worked in Reston (Virginia) and we had put our house on the market for hopes of a sale and move out there. I knew nothing about Reston, but to a 13 year old who lived a rather sheltered life inside the Beltway of D.C. I knew that a move there would be a disaster. I had a good thing going in Falls Church and Reston felt like California to me.
We hadn't sold the house by the time the school year started so back to Mason for year number 4. I was playing JV soccer that fall and making new friends. In my English class I met a pair of awkward guys, Zack and Justin, who were constantly wearing 'Beavis and Butthead' t-shirts and always sat in the back row. They were not athletically gifted as far as I could tell, but they were funny and I got along with them well. A new student moved to town with bright curly red hair named Trevor and as soon as I saw him wear an Oakland A's hat, we hit it off. Coming from California, he loved sports and played sports (basketball being his favorite), but what stood out about him was his flair for individuality and his shear, unadulterated genius. I had never to this point, nor have I since met a person who was made being smart look so easy, but was genuinely nice and was able to keep us 'normal' students involved in conversation without losing us with too many words and ideas we couldn't fathom. The last two of our eventual group of six were two guys I had known for years, but never been really close to. Jody and Isaac had grown up with me in Falls Church and gone to school with me since Kindergarten, but because they lived so close to the Elementary School, they didn't do Day Care so I never built an out of school friendship with them. Jody was a huge sports fan like me, but he liked the Yankees who I knew were big rivals of the Orioles growing up so I knew I didn't like them. Luckily for me the Yankees were horrible during the late 80's and early 90's and with the A's being so dominant in recent time, I always won the argument of whose team was better with Jody. He also played baseball and starting in 1993 would be a teammate of mine at least once a season in baseball for 15 of the next 19 years to date. Isaac who was previously unnamed, but mentioned, as the reason I became a Capitals and Pistons fan rounded out the motley crew. He lived right next to Jody so it was easy to hang out with both of them at the same time.
As the NFL season approached, I had high hopes seeing as the Redskins were the defending Super Bowl Champions. It was only a matter of time until they won another Super Bowl and I thought this year was as good as any. A friend of mine was a huge Cowboys fan and I had been boasting on how they were so bad for years and how the Redskins were so good. Oops. That year the Redskins regressed, and although they still made the playoffs and won a playoff game, this season belong to my bitter rivals. The Cowboys won the Super Bowl, their first since 1978 (right before I was born).
I did get to go to my first ever NHL game as my Dad took me to see the Capitals take on the San Jose Sharks. He was a good sport, but hockey wasn't for him. I was sold that hockey was fantastic and what little I had seen on television paled in comparison to what it was like in person. As for being a fan of the Capitals, the playoffs held the same fate for them again as they were ousted in the first round. This time they lost 3 consecutive overtime games (the most heartbreaking way to lose in playoff hockey) and the fourth loss ended in massive controversy. Dale Hunter, the teams' Captain blew his top facing his season ending and was suspended for 21 games following the incident.
All of a sudden the teams that my favorite teams hated and I would hate forever the most were dominating the sports landscape. Duke won in 1991 and 1992, The Pittsburgh Penguins had done the same. The Cowboys won and would win the next year and the Chicago Bulls who had ended the Pistons string of dominance were about to win their 2nd of 3 consecutive championships. What the hell was going on here??? Life sucked. I took losses by my teams and victories by my enemies personally.
To make matters worse, my JV basketball season that winter was to be my last basketball season of my life. My talents had peaked as had my height for the most part. I enjoyed the camaraderie with my teammates, but I knew it was time to move on and that saddened me. I hated to fail and I hated to not be able to play as well as I once could. I had never put the time and effort into basketball as I did with baseball and it now started to show. Being left handed had been an advantage when opponents couldn't figure it out, but now being forced to go right exposed my ultimate weakness (well that and I had the vertical of a hippo).
Down in Chapel Hill, NC, though, another quality season was being played by the Tar Heels Men's Basketball team. I was starting to be able to watch more games as I could stay up later at night, but for the most part I saw highlights on ESPN or read about them in the newspaper. I had befriended a new female who happened to be a huge Kentucky fan. Erin and I talked so much trash to each other over the next four years about who had the better school and better coach. She loved herself some Rick Pitino who was a young, brash, smooth looking coach, while Dean Smith who coached UNC had started there in 1961 as their head coach when Pitino was just 9 years old! Every win or loss during the season became do or die between us. We didn't grasp the fact that both teams were really good and guaranteed to make the NCAA Tournament and that made it even more fun.
Peer pressure wasn't the only factor in making that season stressful. My English teacher was a die hard University of Virginia fan and he made sure to needle me with every UNC loss. I didn't like English class much. Luckily my Biology teacher was a UNC fan and it became very easy to get him sidetracked about talking UNC sports and forget about class. Trevor was a UCLA fan, a couple of guys on the JV basketball team were Florida St. fans and one was a U. of Michigan fan (the Fab 5 were so cool). The one thing we all agreed on was that we hated Duke, with a passion.
The 1993 NCAA Tournament started and everybody's favorite team made it as did Duke. There was so much pressure that tournament and it was all still relatively new to me. I picked out my favorite UNC outfit: hat, shirt and even shorts and did a little dance in the privacy of my bedroom before the 1st game for the Tar Heels. They won easily. The next game I did the same thing. The won by 45. The first weekend was over and the field had been cut from 64 to 16 teams. Along with UNC, Kentucky, UVA, Florida St. and Michigan advanced. UCLA had lost to Michigan and thankfully for everyone, Duke had been upset by Jason Kidd and the Cal Bears (phew!). The pressure was ratcheted up a notch. We had all week at school to talk about who was going to win. It was a class wide conversation because we involved the teachers. UNC survived their next game, as did Kentucky, Michigan and Florida St., but UVA lost (take that Mr. Hoover!). With only 8 teams left to win the Championship, 3 of the teams had fans that I couldn't have be happy. UNC had to go to overtime, but squeaked by Cincinnati to head to the Final 4. Kentucky beat Florida St. and Michigan upended Temple. Erin and I were at each others throats that following week. This was going to set the tone in our friendship for the rest of high school (or the rest of our lives as we probably saw it at the time). There was nothing more important going on in our lives.
The weekend of the Final Four was the start of Spring Break and my family headed back down to Florida to visit my grandparents. I took my trusted UNC outfit with me and as the game was about to start I locked my bedroom door and did a super sized version of my dance. Then I heard "Dinner!" and I was forced to sit through a painful 20 minutes of mindless chit chat over spaghetti. At this point my family still could care less about UNC and they told me no game until after dinner. I was beside myself. I got finished, helped with the dishes as fast as possible and planted myself in front of the television. The Tar Heels were playing Kansas who had beat them in this same round two years ago. Dean Smiths' ex-assistant coach, Roy Williams led the Jayhawks, but unlike 1991, the Heels won this game and North Carolina was heading to their 1st Championship Game since 1982! In the other game Kentucky played Michigan and I was torn. I hated Kentucky, but it would have been so much fun to beat them. But what if Kentucky beat UNC?? I couldn't have that. But Michigan was the better team, they had the Fab 5, would I want UNC to play them? There's no way UNC could win that game. Michigan won, Kentucky was done. I smiled, but knew the Michigan game would be tough.
The game was late Monday night. My dad stayed up to watch with me and my sister who was 9 at the time tried, and failed, as well. It was close throughout, I couldn't sit still. I was running around the living room like a madman. Mom and my grandparents were fast asleep and I knew I had to keep the noise level down. It was impossible to do so. With :19 left UNC had a two point lead and missed a free throw when another indelible moment happened. Chris Webber, the star of stars, for the Michigan team, grabbed the rebound and apparently traveled. I screamed to no avail, Michigan kept possession and I knew they were going to score. He dribbled to the corner in front of his bench and called for a timeout. I knew, the announcers knew, but he didn't know that they didn't have any timeouts to call. I screamed 'Technical Foul! Technical Foul! UNC is going to win' and sprinted around the house like I had caught on fire. UNC made their free throws and won the National Championship! Unfortunately for me I had a full week of Spring Break left in Florida before I could get back and gloat. By the time I got back to school life had moved on. I still bragged, but it didn't have the same oomph as it would have it had been the following day. Next year when UNC won again, I thought, I'd be home to laugh at everyone...I couldn't wait.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Celebrating 25 Years of Fanaticism
fa·nat·ic (f
-n
t
k)
n.
A person marked or motivated by an extreme, unreasoning enthusiasm, as for a cause.
adj.
Fanatical.
A person marked or motivated by an extreme, unreasoning enthusiasm, as for a cause.
Fanatical.
Prologue: The Early Years
Being the first born to young parents (Mom was 22, Dad 25) it was only natural that how I would be raised would be a trial by fire situation. Looking back it was as if I was a younger sibling to my mother because we interacted as such. We played board games, video games and card games. Since it wasn't the land of political correctness that it is now, it wasn't about how to play and having fun. The lesson I took from playing games with my mother was how do I get better and did I win? I am perfectly fine with this rational. This viewpoint in activities gave me an advantage over my peers because I was always looking to get better at everything. I remind my mother all the time about how she would cheer her victories at Pinball and Kaboom! on the Atari over her 7 year old son. There were no moral victories for me and she never just let me win to keep me happy. She realized that I didn't get upset with losing, I worked on correcting mistakes until I was able to win. Even to this day we play multiple games of Words With Friends against each other and there is definitely smack talking going on when one beats another.
My father also had his share of input into creating the fanatic that lives today. He taught me about sports. How to play them, how to watch them, how to talk about them and how much fun being a fan could be. In the suburbs of D.C. in the early 80's it was all about the Washington Redskins, the Georgetown Hoyas and the Baltimore Orioles. The Redskins had won the Super Bowl in 1982, lost in 1983 and continued to be strong for years after. The Hoyas had lost the Championship in 1982 and 1985, but won one in 1984. The Orioles had recently ended one dynasty but with stars Cal Ripken Jr. and Eddie Murray and a Championship in 1983 a new one looked to be on the horizon. Everything was peachy. The Washington Capitals and the Washington Bullets also played, but nobody cared, especially my dad and so I didn't care either. Every Sunday at 1pm during the football season we were in front of the television watching the Skins. There were no ifs, ands or buts about it. Most of the time they won and life was good. The Orioles saw their win totals decrease for 5 consecutive years after winning it all in '83. The Hoyas were always in the mix for a Championship in the 80's, but never got back to another Championship game.
As for playing sports, I started with T-Ball when I was 7, basketball at 8 and soccer at 9. Luckily for me, recreational sports then weren't like they are today where everyone plays, score isn't kept and everyone takes home a 'Participation Ribbon!' We were taught the fundamentals and that winning was important. Sure we weren't devastated when we lost, but winning felt better and we knew it. My dad was always a coach, not the head coach, but always involved. He never pushed me too hard, but just enough to remind me to get better. I was never the best in the sports I played, but I was always a valuable asset to my teams success.
By age 10 I was playing year round sports, watching sports year round and when it was too cold or wet to play outdoors I was inside trying to beat my mother at video/card/board games. Even when not at home I was playing competitive activities at Day Care and during recess. We played Foursquare (no not that 'Where am I?' phone app.) but a game with 4 players, 1 red rubber ball and lots of mini games trying to determine a King of the playground. We played kickball (with score), work-ups (kickball, but if you made a putout in the field you got to go kick and keep kicking until you got out), Murder Ball (dodge ball w/ flair), Capture the Flag and Football on the playground asphalt. If there was a game to play, I played it and probably was on the winning side. I hated losing and if you were going to play with me, you were going to play to win. My best friend at the time, Michael Greene and I were in the middle of it all. He was the closest I had ever met to someone who had the same drive to win at everything. It is probably why we got along so well, until it all went awry during our middle school years. We were 1 and 1A in day care when it came to forming teams. We always tried to be on the same team, but usually the counselors would make us captains and pick opposing teams. We loved it. If we were forced inside due to bad whether we whipped out Monopoly and took on all comers. We'd crush our opponents until nobody was left that was willing to play. Everything was a competition for us and between us.
When we got to Day Care earlier than the rest, we turned the place into a fort/war zone, pulled out bean bags and made the school's cafeteria into a Vietnam-esque battlefield. As kids were dropped off they were split into teams and General Wippich and General Greene commanded the troops. When we left Elementary School and headed to Middle School, we took our competitive spirit with us.
Chapter 1: Middle School (1988-1991)
In 6th grade there are a few things that stand out for me. Michael and I created a way to make some extra money. We would walk to the Giant grocery store before school and buy up the entire stock of Bubble Yum Bubble gum. Each pack had 5 or 6 pieces in and cost about $0.50/pack. We would sell individual pieces for $0.25 each and take home about $5.00 a day profit. This was quickly banned by the administration. We moved on. We participated in the Middle School Variety Show and because we were the last act to practice, the 6 guys in our act had free roam of the school from 3:30 until about 6 pm. That's dangerous. We played team hide and seek or what we called 'Color War.' As six individuals we would each get a number and each have to hunt for another number. Nobody knew who were were looking for and who was looking for us. If you saw someone you had to risk death by grabbing them or run from them and never eliminate a fellow competitor. This was quickly banned by the administration. We were now confined to the auditorium and one of the waiting rooms.Our group claimed the waiting room as our own and entry was by invite only. With our free time we created yet another new game. Using the schools endless supply of masking tape we created squash ball sized tape balls. We played floor hockey. While on our knees we would split the room in two with one wall being one goal and the opposite being the other goal. Two teams of three would use their hands as sticks and play 3 on 3 hockey. Only rules were you can't get off your knees and couldn't cup the ball and lift it off the floor. No pads, no penalties, just good old fashion hockey. This game was never banned by the administration until the school renovated and eliminated that room.
As the weather got better we migrated outside and our core group started playing Butts Up. It was just another ultra competitive game with a ball that ended in pain if you lost. Losing was never an option. Then came the Chinese Throwing Stars fiasco. We learned how to make Origami throwing stars and as we learned, we taught and more and more people were making their own personal arsenal. Our class decided to have an after school free for all in the school yard (not our brightest idea to do it on school grounds) but about 20-30 kids showed up with about 10-20 stars each and mass chaos ensued. I would have loved to been a passing observer on Route 7 in Falls Church watching this. The making and possessing of Origami throwing stars was quickly banned by the administration.
In seventh grade the athletes in our class had began playing tackle football after school on one of the grassy patches in front of the school building. Michael had started to separate himself as the best all around athlete in our class and he was now playing JV Football. During one of our games I was 'lucky' enough to be covering him and in the open field had to try and make a tackle. Thinking better of my chances I must have tried to get out of the way and save my body, but my lower half stuck around and Michael went down hard, face first because of my horrible tripping infraction. He sprung back up as angry as I've ever seen a human being. The ball was fired at me and a small scuffle ensued. Our 6 year friendship was over, right then and there. It took a good two years before we ever interacted again. It's just a moment in time where childhood ended and a new chapter of my life began. He took the majority of my friends with him and I was left to find a new core group.
I continued to play sports year round and the middle school age range was the first time where people were playing because they were good at playing and not just because they wanted to have fun. I excelled at baseball and skipped a level at age 10. Two years later at the age of 12 my Little League team, the Oakland Athletics, were far and away the best in the league. We lost one game that season heading into the Championship Game and another trophy seemed imminent. I made an error at 2nd base early on that scored a run and there was a lack of communication between the pitcher and I in the bottom of the 7th inning (yes extra innings to decide a winner) that allowed the winning run to score as we fell 2-1. Both runs were my fault and I remember every detail of that to this day. Is that a problem? Yes. Should I have let it go long ago? Yes. Do you recommend therapy for me? Probably. However you judge me, the facts are the facts, the competitive side of sports had a hold on me and it would never let go.
I was playing on a Select basketball team against the best from other cities. I couldn't get off the bench though and I knew the end was near for me in competitive basketball. I was good, but just not good enough for my liking and without a six inch growth spurt, basketball wasn't going to get much more fun. I thoroughly enjoyed soccer and my school played soccer in the fall which allowed me to keep playing it.
The biggest changes in my sporting life were in the teams that I was rooting for. The Redskins had just won their 2nd Super Bowl in 1987 so no change was needed there. They always won games. My entire life had them at or near the top and I didn't see that changing anytime soon. In 1991 they put together another Super Bowl winning team, their 3rd in 10 years. It was a dominant run with an 11-0 start en route to a 17-2 finish. They were great and their top rival, the Dallas Cowboys, were awful.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, the Baltimore Orioles were setting records for futility in 1988. They started 0-21 and after my grandfather sent me newspaper clippings with my Birthday card in early May of how embarrassing they were I quit them...cold. The only other team I knew at the time was the Oakland Athletics, because that was the team I was playing with in Little League. They happened to be real good that year. We were real good that year. I imagined our lineup as their lineup when we played. I was smitten. The Orioles ended up losing 107 of 162 games that year while the Athletics won 104 games which were their most as a franchise since 1931. The Athletics were heavy favorites to win the World Series that year and were leading 4-3 in Game 1 against the Los Angeles Dodgers. Dennis Eckersley was on the mound, he was dominant. He got two quick outs, then walked a batter. Up stepped a gimpy, pinch hitting Kirk Gibson and this happened. I was 10, I cried. I was used to watching my team win. The Redskins were winners. This didn't compute with me, I didn't know how to react. Neither did the Athletics. They lost the 1988 World Series in 5 games. I stuck with them though. I had to. My group of friends made a pact that we wouldn't flip flop teams that we cheered for. You pick and stick. I was now an Oakland Athletics team for life. The Orioles would always be my local team, but as a 10 year old they were the worst team in baseball and it had become an easy choice.
1989 was more of the same for the Athletics. They won, and won a lot. Back in the World Series for the second consecutive year, the Athletics squared off against the San Francisco Giants and quickly took a 2-0 game lead in the best of seven series. Then the earthquake happened. Sports and life were put on hold in the Bay area. All the momentum the Athletics had was halted and fans wondered if they could get it back. Ten days after the quake, the Athletics went back to beating the Giants winning the next two games for a series sweep and I had another Championship team! This was becoming fun.
Looking to repeat as champions, the Athletics steamrolled through the 1990 regular season and playoffs into their 3rd consecutive World Series. Heavy favorites again, this years opponents were the Cincinnati Reds. Anything that could go wrong, went wrong over the next 4 games. The Athletics were outscored 22-8 in the four games as they were swept away. It was ugly, but I expected them to be back. My teams were always good, always in contention.
1991 did not live up to expectations, the Athletics finished barely above .500 and missed the playoffs. At least the bottom didn't fall out like the Orioles of '88.
I have nothing against Georgetown save for this. But more on that later. This part of the chapter is all about a girl. In 6th grade a new girl move to Falls Church from North Carolina. We were a small class (under 100 people) so when new people came along it was big news. When it was a girl who was easy on the eyes, boys going through the 1st stages of puberty took notice. I got the first shot of befriending the new girl and we hit it off the only way middle schoolers knew how. Hand holding, note passing, phone calls and even the occasional awkward kiss. She was a from a U. of North Carolina family. Her parents went there and eventually both her and her older sister went there. Neither of my parents went to college so it was because I lived near D.C. that were rooted for Georgetown. I liked her, she liked UNC so now I liked UNC. My family laughed at me. They cheered against me and pointed out each loss UNC had. Outside of beginning to wear a ton of UNC hats and sweatshirts (adding to my collection of my other favorite teams) I didn't watch too much of UNC sports. I did learn that they were good at basketball and usually bad at football. My fandom was minimal in the early years, but that soon changed thanks to my fellow classmates and even my teachers in high school.
The Washington Bullets had always been a joke of a team growing up. They were always awful. I had no recollection of their lone Championship in 1978. They didn't win a playoff series after the 1981-82 season until 2005. When it came to rooting for a NBA team I watched the 1988 NBA Finals between the Los Angeles Lakers and the Detroit Pistons. One of my friends was a big Pistons fan and even though I owned and wore the purple and gold Magic Johnson Converse shoes while playing rec basketball, I sided with Detroit. I knew nothing about them, but I got a hat and a sweatshirt and went all in. The Lakers beat the Pistons that year in 7 games, but Detroit came back hungry and won the next two NBA Championships. I got really into it, but there were no real NBA fans in my school so the season usually came and went without much discussion. In 1991 their reign of the Eastern Conference came to an end. Some guy named Michael Jordan (who I had recently discovered went to UNC) helped dismantle the Bad Boys of Detroit. He went on to moderate success in the 90's.
I discovered a new sport with help from my Detroit Pistons friend. He played ice hockey and cheered for the Washington Capitals. My dad would never let me watch the Capitals, so I was relegated to listening to them on the radio. It sounded great even though I didn't understand much about it. When I got to watch a game I paid close attention to the rules, because I wanted to be educated about the sport. There's nothing I hate more than listening to an uneducated, so called fan of a sport yapping about things that don't make sense. Hockey was new to me and in 1990 the Capitals were really good. They made it to the semifinals of the Stanley Cup playoffs and even though they were swept in that round it was furthest they had ever gone and that was exciting. Looking back, I should have enjoyed that season and never watched another game. Little did I know how cursed that team is and how heartbreaking it was going to be to be a fan of theirs. The following year the Capitals won their first round playoff series, but ran into the future Stanley Cup Champions, the Pittsburgh Penguins in the second round. This match-up was going to become a sign of very bad things to come. I should have ran. I should have hid. I couldn't quit them, no matter how much easier my life as a sports fan would be.
My middle school years were exciting as a sports fan. This was still new to me and I was learning so much about the current state of sports, but more importantly I was learning the history of the sports as I watched. I had a knack for remembering minute details about sports. Statistics, plays, players whether important or not to the average watcher soaked into my brain. If there was an argument about sports in school, I stepped in to settle it. I was the go to sports guru. I still remember a game that my 7th grade history teacher would have our class play on Fridays: Current Events. The class would be split into two teams and he would ask Trivial Pursuit type questions in various categories about what was going on in the world. The winning team won lollipops. I was clueless on most current events, but when the sports category came around the entire class would just stare at me. It was a lot of pressure. I felt useless if I didn't know the answer. I had become a one trick pony, the sports know-it-all. I'm sure this hurt my overall study habits and quality of schoolwork, but I had a niche and it felt good to be depended upon by my peers.
From 1988-1991 my favorite teams (Athletics, Redskins, Pistons, Capitals and Tar Heels) won 4 Championships and lost 3 Championships. It was a good batch of teams and I was excited to see how many more trophies they would take home during my High School years when being a fan became much more serious.
Coming in the next Chapter: It all comes crashing down, a new group of friends, the evolution of ESPN in my life, fantasy sports, I learn to hate rivals, I learn to pitch, Pinochle becomes a family sport and I realize that hockey doesn't need to be played on ice.
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