Quest for the Cup

1961 was the last time the Chicago Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup. That was 49 years ago. Since I was less than a year old, I don't remember it. I do remember being one period away from winning the Cup back in 1971 though.

I was 10 years old listening to the game on the radio sitting at our kitchen table. The Hawks took a 2-0 lead into the 3rd period of game seven and lost 3-2 to the Canadians. That one hurt.

The Hawks returned to the Finals in 1973 and lost in 6 games once again to the Canadians. I don't remember much about that series.

It wasn't until 1992 that the Hawks returned to the Finals after reeling off something like 10 straight playoff wins. They were abruptly swept by the Penguins and Mario Lemieux that season.

I then fell off the hockey bandwagon of my youth until I moved to Colorado. The Avalanche were a dominant force in the NHL back then and in 2001, the Avalanche exorcised some demons of mine and won the Stanley Cup. They too went into the 3rd period of game seven with a 2-0 lead. This time, 30 years later, the Av's closed the deal and won it all. We went to the victory parade down in Denver and it was something special.

So here we are, just 5 wins away from the Chicago Blackhawks winning Lord Stanley's Cup. I wish all the fans of the Blackhawks far and wide best of luck in your quest for the Cup. I'll be tuned in and rooting like hell as well.

Random Acts of Kindness

There was a man hanging around the backstop of our little league field. This man was a fan. He stood directly behind home plate and encouraged kids. The backstop consisted of a tall, chain-link fence enclosure and I remember the man leaning against it with his fingers wrapped around the fence. I was up to bat and he encouraged me to keep my eye on the ball and so forth. I got a hit. Actually, that day I got 3 hits, a double and 2 singles. It was my best day in little league. Neighbors and people in our town stopped my mom and I on the street saying they heard I had a really good game. It was special.

What was special to me was that this guy encouraged me and I fed off of it and performed. Not to sound like a poor kid, but nobody else had. Don't get me wrong here, my mother would go on to be a great 5:00 am hockey mom, but I don't remember her going to my little league games. My sisters? Nope. My brother? Well, actually he was an assistant coach, but he was busy helping the pitchers warm up, etc. And my dad, well let's just say the only time he ever spent any time with me as far as baseball was concerned was the day of little league tryouts, my mom made him try to give me some hitting tips in our backyard while I was standing on our patio. Nice.

So, yesterday I was walking our yellow lab Molly and we walked to a baseball field that only had a backstop. I stood behind the backstop and remembered the unidentified stranger who had encouraged me that special day. I am pretty sure he had no idea of the impact his encouragement had, but I do. Thanks man.

Is Denver Dumb?

Money...money changes everything.

The 1st round of the NFL Draft was on a Thursday in prime time this year. My wife and I tuned in and I began to explain to her that the higher you got drafted, the more money you got. Well it wasn't until a few days later that I realized just how much money we are talking about. After researching last year's 1st round picks, I was amazed at the dollar amount of the contracts these people got. For example, last year's #1 pick in the Draft signed a contract for 72 million dollars?! And get this, 41.7 million dollars of that contract is guaranteed! He gets hurt, he still gets paid.

So take the first 4 quarterbacks selected in this year's Draft and let's do a little cost analysis: Sam Bradford out of Oklahoma was selected first in the Draft, so let's give him 72 million dollars for starters. Tim Tebow out of Florida was the next quarterback selected at twenty-fifth in the 1st round, so based on last year's 25th pick's contract, he'll get a mere 13.3 million dollars.

Now Jimmy Clausen out of Notre Dame fell considerably in the draft all the way to the 2nd round, and he is looking at about 3 million dollars. And Colt McCoy out of Texas, who was selected in the 3rd round, can expect a measly 650 thousand dollar contract. Wow!

Here is the rub. Speaking strictly from a financial standpoint, how wise was it for the Denver Bronco's to select Tim Tebow in the 1st round? By most NFL scouts, Tim was the 5th best pro prospect at his position. In other words, unless Denver knew something and knew another team was about to pull the trigger and select Tim Tebow, they could have easily gotten him in the later rounds for a ton less money. Now, is the perception that this guy is worth it, worth all those millions of dollars it is going to take to sign him? You decide.

facebook alien

The musical group Simon and Garfunkel had a song that went something like this:

Time it was
and what a time it was
it was
a time of innocence
a time of confidences
long ago and far away it must be
for I have a photograph
preserve your memories
they're all that's left you...

The facebook phenomenon has got me to think'n, so before you read this post, you better put your hip waders on because this is some pretty deep (insert word of your choice that begins with s).

If we are all sitting in our own private movie theaters watching our own version of how we perceive the world to be, how bizarre it must be to use facebook to connect with people. Here are some observations:

Using facebook sometimes is like being a time traveler from somewhere in the past. You suddenly appear out of the blue and completely freak people out. I am sure it is unsettling and unnerving. You might as well be an alien from another planet. Like a pair of shoes you wore when you were 10 years old, you no longer fit and/or serve any useful purpose as a friend. But we try them on anyway don't we...nope too small.

Our friendships are like a commuter train moving along the tracks. The train stops and picks up and drops off people along the way. It has a destination, but that destination is different for each passenger. Some people miss their stops and fail to get off. Maybe facebook is like that? Maybe some passengers are lost, do not know where they are going, and/or do not want to be found. Can you say blocked?

Friends may be like leaves on a tree. They bud, grow into leaves, serve their purpose, then change color in the autumn of their life and fall to the ground, possibly to be blown away by the wind or raked up, bagged, and thrown out with the trash. One mans trash is another mans treasure. If we are all in our own little worlds, who knows how that is gonna work out?

Sometimes we press the leaves and iron them with wax paper for keep sakes...I think these are what they call high school reunions...

More often than not, friendships that are supposed to be two-way streets end up being one way streets that dead end into a cul-de-sac...seems pretty cynical huh, but when was the last time somebody from your past contacted you totally out of the blue, not on facebook?

The Forearm Forklift

Our story begins nearly 3 years ago when the movers broke our sleep number bed. An oak sleigh bed frame weighs a lot and a sleep number bed system should not be set up by 3 tired guys making minimum wage. Bad combination. Anyway, we of course didn't realize they actually broke it until after we signed the damage release form. Thus, we began our journey into pain and suffering night in and night out.

Oh we tried to fix our bed, but it kept breaking. The beautiful oak sleigh bed frame broke, many times. We gorilla glued it, nailed it, screwed it, well forget it. I even invented a hanging bed frame solution that broke as well. So, a couple of weeks ago, I took the whole thing apart and hauled it down to the basement. Oh, what did we sleep on?

I forgot to mention that someone we used to be friends with dropped off a king size mattress system back in November when I was in Chicago. Just leaned it up against our garage. I came home to a problem a lot bigger than I realized at the time. What are we gonna do with it and how do we move it? My wife and I dragged it inside the house, barely on that November night and it ended up in our dinning room where it had been until yesterday, February 5th. Yup, a king size bed just sitting there in the dinning room. We wrapped Christmas presents on it, slept on it, etc...

My wife and I tried twice to get the king size mattress upstairs, but we were denied. No handles and a 7'x7' blob with the rigidity of sand bags is a lot to ask for 2 people to move up 16 steps. All of our friends already have back problems or used them as excuses so we were in a pickle. We needed a bed. We had a bed. The bed was downstairs. Our bedroom was upstairs. You get the picture.

We needed a tipping point. We got it. Without getting too graphic, our 14 year old Labrador had a little, no a big accident, a bout with violent diarrhea on the bed with us in it the other night. I know too much information and gross. After cleaning up the Slum Dog Millionaire outhouse scene, my wife went upstairs to sleep with our daughter and I got the couch. Did you know that infomercials at 2:00 am can actually benefit you? All of a sudden, there it was, The Forearm Forklift. It was like a prayer had been answered.

The next day I looked on-line and found that Ace Hardware actually carried The Forearm Forklift. Got it half off too. So, all we needed was to try it out. Surprisingly, our daughter wanted to give it a whirl so we strapped her up like an Egyptian slave in The Ten Commandments and off we went to take on the dreaded steps. With all 3 of us, it was game on and that darn thing was going up those stairs whether it liked it or not.

We made it up to the first landing and then the next and then it was in our bedroom and the war was over. We did it.

Last night was the first good nights sleep I have had in months, maybe years. Thank you Forearm Forklift. Thank you, thank you, thank you...

Unlockable Doors

Dateline: Northbrook, Illinois January 7, 1999 - 7:00 a.m.

I opened the front door of my mom's house and was greeted by zero degree weather. The garage door slid up and my 1985 Buick Regal Ltd. sat waiting for the adventure ahead. The trunk was full with golf clubs, clothes, and a vacuum cleaner. The back seat was filled with home stuff. The front seat had a TV on it. I was ready to shove off. Time to depart to parts henceforth unknown. Destination: Fort Collins, Colorado.

I was moving. I had gotten a job in Greeley, Colorado. Day one was an eight hour drive to Omaha, Nebraska. The Days Inn in Omaha was ready for me when I arrived in the afternoon. My first floor room however had a problem with the toilet. They moved me to the second floor. Problem.

The lock on the passenger side door of my car was broken, unlockable. Everything I was moving was in that car. I had asked for a first floor room so I could keep an eye on my car out the window. Now, I had an outpost view from above and I was nervous. I fall asleep and somebody walks off with my TV at minimum. Easy pickings. There was hope though.

It started to snow. I figured if it snowed enough to cover the car it would hide it's contents. Snow baby snow.

Darkness fell and I was anxious. With every car door I leaped from bed and looked out the window down at the broken car door scenario. 1:00 AM 2:00 AM 3:00 AM Stupid late arrivals.

Morning breaks with dark circles under my eyes from zero sleep. Contents of car intact.

The day goes well, except for the cop that tells me to move my car or get a ticket as I am holding my TV in front of my new apartment. By 3:00 PM, I am sitting in my new apartment on my rented couch sitting in wonder and amazement. The apartment was all set up. The rented furniture had arrived and was already set up. The carpet hadn't even been walked on. You could see the cleaning rake marks still. I had landed. One journey was over and the rest as they say is history. 11 years worth now...

Victory Parties

When I was 12 years old, we played street hockey. Street hockey was basically ice hockey without the ice, skates, and puck. Most of the neighborhood kids played street hockey, some more than others. We spent hours and hours blocking cars from easy passage down Big Oak Lane. It was our street after all. How dare they interrupt the game!

When we got tired of playing against each other, we sought out others that played our game. A couple of streets down from us was a team called Redwood. Besides being a street, Redwood was a team of really good ice hockey players, most of them all stars. We were just a bunch of hackers from Big Oak, or so they might have thought.

But we lived and breathed this game of street hockey. One year, we destroyed our front lawn and wore it down to bare dirt playing so many games. Numerous garage doors were also obliterated from constant barrages of slap shots. This was our sport.

So, when the gauntlet was thrown down and we were challenged to play against Redwood. there really was only one thing to do before the game. Victory Party!

We went to the grocery store and bought Cheetos and pop and celebrated our upcoming victory against Redwood in our treehouse. We just believed we were going to win.

The game was held and we won 7-2. Redwood was stunned and really mad. How could a bunch of nobodies beat an all star team? Rematch. OK.

After another Victory Party, we routed them 14-2 this time. They were convinced and we were as well, only for us it was before we played the game.