I've got gas. And I'm cooking with it.
Welcome to the high-speed world of TLBR. This here is the first post on my brand-new laptop, complete with all kinds of bells and whistles...and one of those, you know, es-scanners to track, eh-flying saucers (poor Tony Montana-in the Porsche dealership-imitation).
So it's Thursday and here's what's on the docket for today:
* Sports Illustrated finally updated my address for my subscription and I received my first copy out here in Milwaukee. And miraculously, it's the NHL preview. I think SI dedicated about eight pages to it, which was about eight too many. I fear that even if I left this copy of SI in the crapper in my apt., I'd be more apt to read the ingredients on the back of my tube of Colgate tartar control than I would glance through the season preview for the Calgary Flames. Which is sad, really, because when I was younger, I liked Boston Bruins games a lot. Tom Larson on NESN, Derek Sanderson, the whole nine. It just does nothing for me now.
* The more time that passes since his triple crown on his knee, the more I really feel for Rodney Harrison. Yes, we all know what a leader he is. And it's obvious, to watch him play out there, that his proficiency level at safety is second to none. But this could very well end his career. It's tough enough to tear an ACL and bounce back, especially because doctor's tend to use tendons from the hamstring to fuse the knee back together. But to also have the MCL and PCL to deal with, plus the fact that his position on the field requires explosiveness - and you get that from your hamstrings - the glass is half-empty. But I'm sure he won't go quietly and will be out there with a clipboard and a headset the first chance he gets.
* So like I was saying, I got my new laptop today. And I'm very excited. Because no less than eight hours ago, I was starting at the circa 1998 PowerBook with a Bill Cowher face. Jaw tightened. Scowl. Real mean-looking. Borderline helpless. But lo and behold, it worked. For the first time in history...a mean scowl with jowls worked.
* I'm growing sick and tired of the term "Red Sox Nation," on account of those two semi-prominent, Holy Cross-educated, Boston-area sportswriters use it as their calling cards. (and to the nice anonymous commenter, yes, I'm calling out your boy once again. Flail away...) But last night, I was at Miller Park watching the Brewers fight, scratch and claw their way to the .500 level. I was wearing my Terry Francona-styled fleece pullover, with the "B" on the neck...the one I bought at game one of the World Series last year. Anyway, a nice older couple comes up to be and asks if I am a Red Sox fan. I reply "yes." Turns out that these kind folks were the in-laws of Boston Herald Sox beat writer Jeff Horrigan. Big fan of both sides of that family now.
* Made my way over to Bob the barber this morning. I now have to go to Bob, as going to see Adam at Ken's barbershop is a little out of the way. Bob's barbershop is located on campus. Ken's is in Jamestown, RI. Either way, Bob's good people. He tells the same corny jokes that most barbers tell and his shop looks like a slice of time where history stops and chronicles itself. And for 15 bucks, he did the job. Although, he did hack up the widow's peak a bit. I reckon I'll be needing a touch-up in about a week.
* If the Red Sox win tonight and the Yankees lose, it'll be all tied up with just the three games to play at the Fens. No one - from Mamet to Fox Sports - could pen this play any better. Especially with Schill and Moose toeing the rubber, conceivably, with the whole thing on the line. And now, with the Sox acquiring former Yankee and former Sox Mike Stanton to plug a hole in the pen, it could be even more dramatic. Either way, I'm sticking to my guns - the Sox will win the American League East. And it will all be academic by Sunday, as the Indians will have played themselves out of the race completely.
* Ok, returning to the fun baby-name game for the Broekers. In my last post, I told of the story of these two fine people who will be having a child in the very near future. And I have also been schooled as to tread lightly in the land of possessive nouns. It is not "his" or "hers," rather it is "theirs."
At any rate, here is today's list of potential baby names, brought to you by the letter "D" and the number "12." (not to be confused with Shady Records' D-12)
12. Diddy (as in Puff, Puffy, P., Sean John, etc...)
11. Doremus (as in Bennerman)
10. D'Arg (as in Saints Alive!)
9. David Americo Arias (as in Ortiz)
8. Dwyane (as in Wade)
7. Diversity (I believe it's an old wooden ship from the Civil War era)
6. Diener (as in, well, pick one. there's a whole bunch)
5. Dave Roberts (as in the guy who swiped second in game four of the '04 ALCS)
4. Derek (as in Captain Intangibles, the guy who missed the tag)
3. Dontrelle (2005 N.L. Cy Young Awardwinner, if I had a vote)
2. Diego (which is German for "whale's")
1.5 Dirk (as in Diggler)
1. Dikembe (as in Mutombo Mpolondo Mukamba Jean Jacque Wamutombo)
That's it. Talk to you all later, sooner, and more often now. One.