Date Night Double Dipping

The missus and I have been pretty busy lately. Two full-time jobs, four kids, and lord only knows how many practices and games and oil changes and dentists appointments and everything else we've got to account for. Suffice it to say, but it's been a LONG time since we've gone on a vacation with the family and a very LONG time since just the wife and I have gotten to do anything with just us.

Last weekend, we double-dipped. On both outstanding needs.

First up, we took the whole family "on a vacation" which masqueraded as a soccer tournament for our oldest. His team was good enough to win that weekend and ended up placing second overall.

Unfortunately when it came time to double dip in some hanging out time with just us, our room had been taken over.

I don't even know where to start with this. Or step, for that matter.

Necessity is the mother of invention, and the mother of all those kids had a great idea. Rather than stay in the room and wake the kids up, or head out and risk something going wrong, we just kicked in the bathroom, hotel par-tay style. An extra chair, an iPad with Trivial Pursuit loaded on it, and a hotel ice bucket full of beverages were all we needed to have a great time.

This is not quite 40.

In the end, great weekend, great sporting event, great vacation, AND great date night.

Treachery

My 5 year old has outdone himself this week, which is no easy task, as he's the one I tweeted this about with only a hint of sarcasm.

Earlier this week I had woken him up and he was supposed to be getting ready for school. He's a bit of a dawdler (I'm being polite) so I wasn't surprised when I found asleep on the couch.

Poor guy must have been really worn out.

I went in to scoop him up, and immediately felt like Ferris Bueller's dad.

Treachery.

Twenty minutes later the wife and I found him laughing under his bed. He wasn't afraid that he was in trouble, he couldn't comprehend that he'd be in trouble because he was just so amazed at how much "fun" we were all having.

Naturally, he ended the week with another strong showing.

Is he the Omen? No. Hopeless? Doubtful. The next Dennis the Menace? I'm not ruling it out.

P.S. As I was writing this, he was headed out back to play. He opened the door and told the dog to come outside with him. By barking. That's right, he genuinely believes that he can talk to our dog with a series of "arfs." That doesn't seem so hopeless. 

Right?

Road Trip

Those of you who follow the blog know that I've grappling with teaching my kids how to be fans of both the Cavs and Heat. This last weekend I added the Memphis Grizzlies into the fray. Why you ask? My boys are sports nuts, and my recently-turned 6 year old son is really big on basketball right now. I wanted to take him to a game for his birthday, and Memphis is the most attractive city/team within driving distance. (Indianapolis isn't much fun, Milwaukee has too much beer for me to be the designated driver and I still remember Chicago doing this). Memphis also allowed us some great seats at great prices, and I knew they'd still have something to play for at that point in the season.

We decided early on this was gonna just be a great "man" road trip. When we got hungry, we ate. When we were thirsty, we drank. When we wanted to switch from watching Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone to Disney's Dinosaur we did it. Living on the edge ain't easy, but somebody had to do it.

We made it to Memphis in time to walk up Beale and grab some dinner before heading into the game. I was really proud watching Michael play the mentor role to his little brother on topics ranging from holding his hand while crossing the street all the way to why it was really important to eat his shrimp even though it was a little spicy and had some potato salad on it and it had chicken breading on it.

I was also pretty impressed by Lucas who noted -- about 2 minutes into his first live NBA game -- that it was cool how the announcer was said the scorer's name a lot louder when the home team made a basket.

After the game we were all pretty pumped (the game was actually really exciting, we got to eat snacks TWICE during the game, and we brought home a winner), but I was able to talk the boys out of putting me to bed and heading back out on Beale. Amazingly, we didn't get security called on us.

It was a long ride home, but we'd all do again. Who knows, maybe next time we'll even bring Cooper along. 

Sports Loyalty

Let me begin by apologizing to any St. Louis readers: I know that most of you aren't even sure that they still play professional basketball in this country, but they do, and I really like it. This post is gonna be about that.

I am a fan of the Cleveland Cavaliers. I grew up in Canton, Ohio, an hour down the road from Cleveland. I was raised to like the Cavs and Browns (fortunately we weren't a big baseball family). The Cavs are the team that used to employ LeBron James. I am also a fan of the Miami Heat. They are the team that currently employs LeBron James (you may remember some of the brouhaha surrounding his changing jobs a few summers ago). I'm not actually a big Heat fan per se, but I am a big LeBron fan, so I root for the Heat by proxy.

That's right. I'm a Cavs fan who still likes LeBron James. Did I like his decision? No. I would have much rather he had stayed in Cleveland, winning championships by the handful and seeding Northeast Ohio with his unquestionable genetic advantages. But he didn't. And I'm not burning his jerseys in the street. In fact, all of my boys still regularly wear them. When the Cavs are on, that is. When the Heat are on, they wear number 6 (of course if I didn't have League Pass, they'd never be able to watch my hometown team).

I'm OK with that. My wife actually bought us tickets to Game 5 in Dallas last year (which didn't exactly go according to plan). My 6 year old (basketball crazed currently) just had a birthday and got (from Grandma, per his wishes) a LeBron jersey in every color (so he could match whatever they were wearing on the TV), two LeBron books, a LeBron backpack, LeBron pajamas, and a personalized binder coordinating and collating all things LeBron. I was, to be honest, amazed that they sell that much stuff with one man's face on it.

There are those who would call me a sports bigamist. To them I say... well, pretty much nothing. I'm old enough I don't need to give a crap what most folks think about me. But I am open to share my rationalization for it. I generally deal with getting static about this by half-heartedly blowing it off by saying "hey, I left Cleveland, too, and I haven't won a championship yet, either," but the fact of the matter is that I spent 7 years (9, if you count his last two in high school) rooting for LeBron. He was King James. He was the Chosen One. He's a nice guy, a funny guy, a really good kid -- you know, like one of your friend's little brothers who everyone knew was gonna make good, only we was the little brother to the buddy of everyone in Northeast Ohio. He was the first guy from the neighborhood to go college, then he not only went to college, but he went to  med school, and not only did he go to med school, but then he became one of the greatest brain surgeons EVER. And now, just because he's decided to go move to a better hospital with a better staff (and where he can work with his buddies and make more money) I'm supposed to hate him? That doesn't make any sense.

Could LeBron have handled leaving Cleveland better? Absolutely. We've all been young, and stupid, and we've all made mistakes. I'm actually more embarrassed by the way Cleveland handled the whole thing. I have a hard time imagining anyone thinks LeBron handled leaving Cleveland right, but being classless throughout the fallout doesn't exactly make the case that he should have stuck around. If a girl breaks up with a guy, and that guy loses it and starts yelling at her in public and making everyone else uncomfortable, everyone knows she made the right choice leaving him. If he accepts his fate and holds it together while she struggles, then everyone knows she should have stuck around. Lot of parallels there. Just sayin'.

That said, I still love the Cavs. They're family. They've always been there, and they always will be. I'd rather have them win, but if they can't, I'd like for it to be LeBron. In the meantime, my boys can root for everybody -- I'm sure they'll get it right when it matters.

After/before.

Bracket Busted

Well I am not sure about you but my bracket is the ugliest thing I have seen since I got this really nasty blood blister on my foot. The dreaded 15/2 matchup this year has been the death of it, and mostly because I had one of those teams winning the whole thing. IDIOT. Let this be a lesson not to let your home team allegiance blind you from reality.

Yes I am waaaay too optimistic

Not only does it suck when your champ is out early because you are more than likely out of the running for any type of monetary reward or pants credit. But it sucks from a viewing perspective also. I am past the days of watching sports just to watch sports. I just can't. With the addition of kids, there are practices, games, dance classes, & other stuff to do on the weekend. Oh and my wife gets super ticked off. So when I get to sit down and actually watch a sporting event, I need to have some sort of stake in there. The stake is emotional only because gambling is illegal at Bushwood.

Don't get me wrong I really like watching the tournament and think its great to see the lesser known schools "over-achieve," but right now I am at the point of saying F it. Really the only thing that may keep me going is the interest in watching Kansas lose to whoever plays them, but the longer they make it in the tournament, the more I fall down into a sports depression.

So, I guess good luck to those of you that are still emotionally invested in this Tournament. Except if you are a Kansas fan.

Baseball needs to start soon.

3 more reasons to hate Monday

Much to my immense pleasure and fleeting chagrin, three of my kids are enrolled in five different sessions of two different sports at present. Fortunately, only three of those sports, at the moment, have any sort of practice, and of those three, I am only helping to coach two. And all three of those practices are scheduled for Monday nights, every Monday night, for at least the next 6 weeks.

This poses a much bigger problem for my wife, logistically, since all I really have to do is get to the ones that I'm coaching, which are back to back and in the same location (karma's gonna make me pay for that someday), but it will be problematic for her since she'll have to leave work early to my three little ones picked up and get my 5 year old to basketball practice at the Y by 5:30*. Once that is over she'll get those three fed, then bring my 4 year old to meet me at 7:30 for soccer practice (which starts right as 5th grade basketball practice for my 11 year old, which started at 6, is ending), then take the three kids that aren't my 4 year old home (and sometimes to their dad's house), feed the ones that haven't eaten yet, make sure that they've all got any leftover homework done, and put them to bed. When soccer practice is over, I'll bring the last one home, and she'll probably put him to bed while I eat.

And you thought coaching little kids was tough. If you bump into my wife on any Tuesdays in the next month and a half or so, I'd probably be nice to her if I were you.

* And who schedules practice at 5:30? I'd guess even stay-at-home moms would have a hard time getting kids anywhere at that time, but when you work 45 minutes away from a school that is another 20 minutes away from practice, you just can't work until 5 like Dolly Parton requests.

America's Pastime

In St. Louis, MO there are few things we do well. However, this isn't a post about my city and the poverty, crime, or education. Nay, this is a post about stuff St. Louis does well. Well, 1 thing in particular. No, I'm not goint to talk about Toasted Ravioli, Washers, or Gooey Butter Cake. I am going to talk about Cardinals baseball.

As a kid growing up in the 80's & 90's I can remember as far back as my mind allows being a Cardinal fan. I had all their baseball cards, could mimic their batting stances, and pretty much ate, drank, slept baseball during the summer. After my formative years however, I moved away from the city and lost a bit of touch with the team. I could no longer recite stats of the 2nd string catcher or for that matter go to a game without it being a big ordeal. When I was in college however, I regained that passion for the game, thanks no other to the drug induced slug-fest that was the 1998 season and Mark McGwire ripped off 70 HRs. While he and others were essentially ruining the game, they were saving it at the same time (well at least for me they were saving it). From that season on, I had regained my love for Cardinal baseball and carried it out through my 20's. As of the last 4 or 5 years however having kids and all that goes along with that has taken precident over Cards baseball. I will gladly give up the TV now so my 3 year old can watch a show for the 30th time as long as it keeps her happy. With this, I am steadily missing more and more games per year. This is also the case with going to games. It was not unusual for me to go to 10 - 15 games a season when I was in my 20s. But as mentioned above my attendence is declining. So much this year that I didn't think I was going to make a single game. A Cardinal sin? (yes that was terrible)

Well, that all changed Sunday when my daughter got tickets through her school to go to the game. At first, I was a little weary of it since my wife wouldn't be going and I was dragging along my Sister-in-Law's boyfriend. He's a good dude but what 26 year old wants to go to a baseball game with a guy way past his prime and 2 kids that can scream bloody hell at a moment's notice? But excitement struck me when I loaded up the car with the girls on our way to the game. You see, this wasn't just an insignificant Sunday game in late August against the Pirates. No this was both of my kid's first baseball game. Ever. It is a historic day in their lives.

This is excitement

So with this sudden excitement on my part coupled with the fact that my kids think they are going to see actual Pirates, this made to be an amazing day for them (and me). The game was actually pretty sloppy in the first few innings but therere were a ton of runs and the girls were well on their way to a sugar induced coma. To my surprise they made it until the 7th inning stretch. However, the wheels were falling off pretty quickly. So we decicded to get while the gettin was good. A quick side note, the Cards ended up winning 7-4.

 

This is somewhere around mid-sugar high

Today was an awesome day at the ballpark with my kids (and sister-in-laws boyfriend). I remembered why I loved baseball when I was a kid and I can only hope my kids love it growing up and possibly marry a player so I am set for life.

Taking Away My Shoes

A while back I wrote a somewhat controversial post regarding my thought to the whole minimalist/barefoot phenomenon that was occurring in the world of running these days.  I didn’t do any research on the subject to keep my opinions my own and as outspoken as possible. To save you some time (and since my job blocks wordpress I can’t do much editing & adding a pingback), my summary went like this: Barefoot running doesn’t make sense to me and that regardless of foot strike you are placing the same amount of stress on your body just in a different place. To further the point I also commented that shoes are awesome and they help considerably. It is similar to my wife’s thought on epidurals “If the technology is there, use it.”

My opinion on this matter started when I first got into running. It was in 2006 I weighed 272 lbs. I wanted to do this running thing the right way so I got fitted for shoes at a specialty running store which will remain nameless but I won't go back there. Also, I've learned the art of internet scouring to find the the best deal. They did the whole gait analysis and charged me $130 for a pair of Brooks Beasts since I was a fat over-pronator. The shoes were a step up from what I was wearing and I liked them at first. I did notice that whenever I would up the miles (at this time anything over 4 miles was a long run) the medial (inside) part of my knees would hurt. I figured this was normal since the shoes were now providing support where I didn’t have it before. After running with those shoes for a year the pain didn’t go away, but it didn’t get worse either. I went out on a limb and for my next pair bought some New Balance 991’s which were a bit more neutral. There was no knee pain with these shoes. Hmmm.

​Fast forward to 2010 & 2011 and I am running in Brooks Adrenaline GTS 9’s which are a shoe that provide moderate support for over-pronators. I really like these shoes. I’ve had no real issues with them and as my experience with the other pair of Brooks, they hold up very well.

Well, when I wrote that previous article I promised that I would keep an open mind about the minimal thing since there was so much feedback telling me I was wrong. I kept my promise. By a stroke of luck and a need from some trail shoes, I found a pair of New Balance 101’s on sale to get into this minimal thing. I don’t think that there are any arguments that the NB101s are pretty minimal especially when compared to my previous shoes. I’ve started out slow with them and have noticed that my calves are getting a better workout when running and there is a “difference” in the way my knees feel. It’s a good difference. They feel a bit looser after I run with the NB101s. I’ve also taken the NB101s out to the track and did some speed work with them, they were awesome for that environment too.

Finally, I have purchased "Born to Run" which I have been told is the greatest running book ever. I haven't started on it yet because I am knee deep in the "Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" series and I don't want to break up those books. So, I have a feeling my research will be picking up once I crack that sucker open.

So, after a couple months I have gone from Minimal Skeptic to Casual Minimal Tester-Outer and I like this progression I am seeing. Its too early to say that I am hooked and that minimal running is the thing for me but my mind is a bit more open.

Mid-Majors

I'm sitting here preparing myself to watch the final game of the college basketball season between Butler and UConn. I'm pretty confident Butler will win (which means you should bet on the Huskies) and I'm a little pissy about the whole thing.   People are all excited this year because a bunch of teams with no business making the Final Four made the Final Four. People eat this crap up. I don't.

To be frank, I'm an Ohio State fan. I didn't go there, so I'm not a tattoo-sporting, Dead Schembechlers-listening-to type fan, but they have been my college sports rooting interest for as long as I can remember (calm down: I grew up in Ohio, I'm not one of those guys who like UNC and Duke even though they've never set foot in a state that ends in Carolina). I grew up hating Michigan, and I always will, unless of course -- God forbid -- one of my kids gets a scholarship there. Even talked the Missus into a Buckeyes-themed Christmas card.

[caption id="attachment_398" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Go Bucks, Michigan Sucks."][/caption]

This means that, at least in the intercollegiate context, I don't much care for underdogs. I like big, sports-factory schools to kick the crap out of little schools all season long, and I like for those little schools to make a nice little paycheck and be happy to tell their alumni they're gonna be on TV. However, the last couple of years -- largely due to the NBA's age limit (players must be out of high school for at least one full year before they can enter the draft) -- the smaller schools have been doing really well in the tournament. And that kind of bites, especially for the schools that have been overpaying their players these last few years with nothing to show for it.

Hopefully with the NBA's labor lockout looming we'll get to see some top talent stay in school next year so everyone's bracket will make it through the first round without getting broken in half. Until I can say go Buckeyes again (which is hopefully only 5 games into football season), go Bulldogs.

If this were a buddy cop movie, I'd be too old for this crap

When I was in high school, I was an avid soccer player. In this context, by "avid" I mean that I played a lot, not that I was good. I was blessed to go to a school small enough they couldn't cut people, and by the time I was a senior I was a starter, a captain, and All-Ohio (Academic, anyway).

Anyway, since then, I've largely stopped running (and moving when possible) so I'm a little out of shape. About 2 years ago I answered an online ad for an indoor soccer team needing a goalie. I didn't play goalie (or "keeper" as some "football" snobs call the position) for my high school team but had played a few games in the net for a club team I was on, so I thought it would be a great way to get back into it slowly (as goalies obviously move less than other players).

I bought some shinguards, some cleats, and some gloves, and played for about a year. My team was great, in all fairness, considering some of them were really, REALLY good at soccer. It would have been very easy to get frustrated with me (as I'm barely, BARELY adequate). I had a great time, but didn't get into great shape. After about 6 months I told them to look for another goalie, as I just couldn't commit to the hour every week (I am, after all, a bid-ness man first and foremost). Shortly thereafter they found one, and I enjoyed some much needed time off.

A few weeks ago the team reached back out to me. Apparently after I left they hopped up a division (not surprising since they had a real goalie) and then their new goalie got hurt so they dropped back down a division. As all of them are in average shape, they're perfectly content running all over the field and NOT having people kick things at their heads as hard as possible. Suckers. Anyway, I missed the game (which is a huge contributor to success) so I jumped at the opportunity generated by the injury of my replacement.

Since coming back we've had three games, and we've won all three. It took me a little while to remember the rules, and to get my sea legs back, but this week I was pretty awesome for a thirty-something fat guy playing out of position with a bunch of youngsters who started out better than I am. So I'm having fun.

I'm also painfully, painfully sore. Both wrists are messed up and the first three steps after any period of sitting are sort of half-leaning forward. But I made some great saves, some great drop kicks, and nobody has cussed me out since I came back.

If this is what winning feels like, call me Charlie Sheen.