May the force (play) be with you.

What do you get when you combine baseball and Star Wars? (Besides the bad pun in this post title...)

Whitecaps baseball on Friday night!

We took Sam to the Whitecaps game on Saturday. (We being S.A. and me, along with Sam's Grammy, Grandma, Grandpa, Uncle Jeff, Aunt Rachel, Cousin Dave, Cousin Holly, and Cousin Joe.)

The game itself was uneventful, but it was Star Wars night at the ball park. Hence the following picture-

Notice how serious he looks. I suppose holding an entire
galaxy under the tyrannical thumb of the Emporer is serious work.

Sports traditions

I remember a time as a kid, when I was playing little league, that I found myself involved in a little bit of a hot streak. 20 years later, I remember the streak itself much less clearly than I remember hiding my socks from my mom after every game because, as any sports fan knows, you don't wash your socks during a hot streak!

This came tom mind today because there's a neat article in the Detroit Free Press about sports traditions. It talk about where they came from and what they mean. For those of you who aren't sports fans, they probably won't mean anything to you (other than possibly giving you a little bit of insight into the slightly warped mind of the sports nut).

And for anybody who takes the time to click over to the article but thinks they're all silly, you should understand how deeply these concepts take hold and the fond memories they engender for some of us. My wife will attest that I still cry every time I hear a clip of Harry Carey singing "Take me out to the Ballgame".

Here are a couple that I would have to add to the list. They won't mean anything to most of you, but for a few, should at least make you laugh.

1. If you have a Jacksonville Jaguars hat, it always goes under you left foot during a tight volleyball game.
2. Nobody wants to be a monkey as much as Marcy P. And the "Theme of the Royal Canadian Kilted Yaksmen" is always good luck.
3. Always put a handful of sunflower seeds in your mouth at once. Make sure to spit the shells through the fence. Extra points for hitting the umpire.
4. "I don't want you to be sorry. Just do better."

That's about all I can think of right this moment. Feel free to add if y'all have any other bright ideas.

Laterz.

It's game time!

Just got back from G.R. where we went to the Pissers first pre-season game. It was S.A.'s b-day yesterday, so this was part of her present. We attended to game with her sister Rachel and Rach's husband Jeff. Very enjoyable game, with one very minor exception.

Jeff and Rachel chipped in with us so that we could have very good seats at the game. The seats directly in front of us remained empty throughout the 1st half, but at halftime, a couple decided that those seats looked great and since they weren't being used... So they sat in front of us.

I have no problem with seat jumpers. I've done it myself at many sporting events and I do think that there's no reason to let the seats go to waste. However, I and also not a drunken asshole. This could not be said for the gentleman who sat down directly in front of me. He had so much alcohol in him that he was visibly shaking. This, however, did not prevent him from jumping up and down and screaming about things that didn't draw any reaction from the rest of the crowd. I realized that his behavior was not only irritating me, but making it impossible for S.A. to see any of the action. I decided that I needed to ask the gentleman to sit down.

This, however, required some amount of planning, because most drunks at sporting events are also belligerent, in my experience. The fact that he was obviously with a date made this possibility even more likely. Also, because we were sitting at the front of the upper deck, I was afraid that if he took a swing at me and I ended up punching him, there was a decent chance that, in his obviously balance-impaired state, he would fall over the railing. Regardless of how aggravating he was, I really didn't need to kill him.

S.A., on the other hand decided to do the more mature, if somewhat less cathartic, thing. She stood up walked over to the female usher at the top of the stairs and politely asked her to deal with the idiot in front of us. When the usher asked to see his ticket and saw that his assigned seats were ACROSS THE ARENA, she asked them to get out of her section. Fans around us applauded. The usher walked back over to S.A. and gave her arm a friendly squeeze. They were obviously sister enforcers.

Jeff, who had been pointedly ignoring the moron and concentrating on the game, leaned over and asked me what had happened. I told him that the guy had been convicted of "Drunk in front of S.A."

After that, the game went smoothly. The Pistons won and we both got a decent night's sleep at R&J's. It was a good time and, I think, a very happy birthday for S.A.

Also, just because she sometimes wishes I'd make grand-er gestures in public I offer this-

Happy Birthday S.A.
I Love You!

Laterz.

We are Turtles! Hear us roar!

I recently wrote about my bowling team. We are know far and wide as not being... well... not good. Generally speaking, we suck. However, I also said that we were improving.

I was right.

Last night the Tropic Cove Albino Turtles (so named in honor of a $250 turtle Kevin purchased this weekend at a trade show in Chicago,) won. Handily. We won all seven points. We should be the T.C. Pin Piranhas. My dad, who in this case was obviously chanelling his alter-ego Tomas, was on fire. He rolled a 490 series and basically carried us to a resounding victory.

The only down point to the evening came on what should have been a highlight for me. Starting in high school, the vast majority of the games I've bowled have been with my buddy Nate. We always made sure, however, to make sure that we had at least a couple of gals with us when we bowled. The reason for this is that we've had a long-standing rule that if either of us ever managed to roll a "turkey" (3 strikes in a row) the ladies would "flash" us. I think it almost goes without saying that the gals were never in any real danger. Over the past 10 years, both he and I had 2 consecutive strikes many, many times. However, given the pressure that we always heaped on each other when we got to that point, neither of us has ever been even close to that elusive third consective strike. It got to the point where some of our more regular bowling companions would torment us with comments about the high quality of their undergarments, because they knew it was the only way we were ever going to know anything about them.

Last night I rolled a 97 in the first game and a 120 in the second game. Both below my average, but not as far below as I'd like. The last game I spared the 9th frame and had a 122 going into the 10th. I proceeded to throw a strike. With my 2nd ball of the 10th frame, I threw another strike. Joking the whole time with my opponents, I went back to the line for my 3rd ball and, wonder of wonders, threw another strike. Even our opponents were excited and all gave my high-fives as a 10th frame turkey is rare. Especially in our league. So I finished with a 162, which is WAY above my average.

Upon returning to my team's table, I realized that somebody was supposed to flash me. I looked around but all the people around me were middle-aged men. Man boobies were NOT what I was looking for.

Aargh.

So I've been cheated. But at least we won. And now I figure somebody owes me a flash.

I hope to God my mother-in-law doesn't read this and agree with me.

Laterz

And the shut-out is officially over!

For those of you who may not know, (which is probably most of you, because i don't really talk about it that much) I'm in a bowling league. My team consists of myself, my dad, my buddy Kev, his dad, and a 2-headed bowling monster of Mark, who teaches with my dad, and Daryl, Kev's Dad's golf partner. (They bowl on alternating weeks.) We make up the Tropic Cove... Somethings. We don't actually have a team name yet. We have a sponsor, though. Tropic Cove. We could have used Joe's, my golf shop, but there's a $40 sponsorship fee and I didn't feel like forking it over. This week, we were the Tropic Cove Rabid Canarys. Last week it was the Tropic Cove Betta Bowlers. I'm proposing the Angry Ferrets for next week. Truth be known, we should be called the Tropic Cove Spastic Invalids, because you'll seldom see an uglier display of bowling acumen.

It's a good time. I love to bowl; always have. However, I don't generally broadcast my league membership. It's not that I'm not proud of my team, it's just that, well... we suck.

Seriously, we're awful. My dad hadn't bowled more than a handful of times in the past 25 years before he joined the team. Daryl bowled last night for the 1st time in 35 years. Phil's dad hadn't bowled in over 20 years. It'd been 15 years for Mark. And Kevin and I... Well, we've bowled more recently, but we still really suck. We both fall into the "please let my score be in triple-digits" category.

Last night, however, we actually won a game! Not the match, mind you. We still got our asses handed to us for the evening. But we won a game. Officially, we have now won 2 out of a possible 28 points this season. Things are definitely looking up. My new bowling shoes will be here tomorrow. I've already picked out my new bowling ball and now just need to convince someone to buy it for me.

I feel a hot streak coming on. Also, if you know Dave the techie at C.O.P., you should probably express your condolences. It's his team we beat.

Laterz