Tuesday Tidbits – Friday Edition. Fine, Maybe Not Tidbits. Penguins Recap?

- I have been, by my own admission, curiously quiet since the Penguins closed out their season with a Round 1 loss to Ottawa. Call it my mourning period; my time to grieve. However, this season was an obvious success and will pay huge dividends down the road when Sid the Kid meets Lord Stanley for the first time. I emphasize first time because with this core group of guys, I fully expect at least two and at most five Stanley Cups over the next 10-12 years. Lofty expectations? Yes. And that is why I will start the review with things we have to look forward to.

- The future is bright in Pittsburgh. Mostly because we are dealing with the game’s best player. Crosby is this generation’s superstar. And while this is a seemingly obvious statement, the skills he possesses are limitless. He is an amalgamation of Gretzky’s vision, Lemieux’s skill, Yzerman’s leadership, and Messier’s grit. He will win this year’s MVP and continue onward to establish himself as a Hall of Famer. The only thing that will keep him from becoming a threat to Gretzky is the massive increase in league-wide talent from the early 80’s to now. Players today are bigger, stronger, faster and better conditioned overall to excel throughout a season. The difference in skill levels between players is still there, but the effort gap has closed dramatically. I once saw an interview with Lemieux during which he referenced players smoking cigarettes between periods. Can you imagine that? Next thing you’ll tell me is that baseball players around here snorted lines during games. Whoops. This is not to say that Lemieux and Gretzky wouldn’t have been as good today as they were in their hey-days. They are and were transcending talents, and so is Sid. But the rest of the league is no longer filled with pushovers skating with 50 lb. weights attached to their ankles. Because of this, Sid’s numbers will likely not approach those of the Great One or Le’Magnifique. But he’s good. He’s real good (Ron Burgundy voice). And we will bear witness for years to come.

- And he is surrounded by a group of youngsters that will lift him to even greater heights. Jordan Staal will eventually redefine the way we think of two-way forwards. He is already the NHL’s foremost defensive forward at 18, and coming off a 29 goal season. Evgeni Malkin is the Jagr to Crosby’s Lemieux. He is a dynamic offensive force who probably possesses more offensive skill than Crosby himself. Witness his goal against the devils early in the year, or the show he put on in Boston later. Not many people combine his size, skating, stick-handling, and shooting abilities. Goalie Marc-Andre Fleury is still just 22 years-old and while he may never reach the level of his idol (Martin Brodeur), his athletic ability and a continuing dedication to the finer points of goal-tending will bring him into the conversation of league’s best goalies. Ryan Whitney is fulfilling his promise as an offensive defenseman extraordinaire. Look for his goals and assists to climb with each pinpoint breakout pass.

- Don’t be too quick to discount the importance of players like Colby Armstrong, Maxime Talbot, and Brooks Orpik to this team. They may not be the top flight talents their previously mentioned teammates are, but in the long run they will be the difference in this team’s overall ceiling. Witness the effects that Chris Neil, Dean McAmmond, Christoph Schubert, and Mike Fisher of Ottawa had on the series with the Penguins. Quick, gritty, and physical, these players won’t win any scoring titles, but come playoff time their rattling body checks and ferocious forechecks make a world of difference. The same will eventually be said for the likes of Armstrong, Talbot, Orpik and other Penguins youngsters with similar styles of play. The efforts will always be there and results will follow.

Season Grades

Centres:

Sydney Crosby – A+++++++: MVP. Not much more to say.

Evgeni Malkin – A-: Almost a lock for Rookie of the Year, but a playoff slip keeps him from the plus. In his defense, he played more games this year than ever before on the heels of his Cuban like defection from Russia while not speaking much English. Give him a break. In two years, he’ll put up 120. You’ve been warned. Plus, this just in from http://www.espn.com/ about how he chose number 71:

As explained on the Penguins' Web site: "When I started to play hockey, I had number 11. It was a prominent number for many, many years. When I got to Magnitogorsk, it turned out that the number was given to somebody else. So, I gave it some thought and decided to get a number close to 11 and that's how I came up with 71.”

Jordan Staal – A: Hockey’s Cy Young, Staal went for 29 and 14 this year. And he wasn’t supposed to make the team. PS, he was the Penguin’s best defensive player besides Fleury. PS jr. – He is from Thunder Bay, Ontario. This is easily the best hometown name to have. Well, besides Fire Skull, Wyoming.

Maxime Talbot – B: A great year from the Pens’ resident grinder. He had a great year on the penalty kill and some surprising offensive production, albeit in spurts. Career third liner and this is just fine with me.

Erik Christensen – C-: Put up 18 goals in 61 games as a 24 year-old. But with his shot and skill level, more can be expected here. Prone to slumps and hot streaks, he will be a contributor if he can level out his consistency. A member of the “K replaces the C Klub.”

Chris Thorburn – D+: Mostly played wing during the year, but provided good spark during early season enforcer role. Most of this grade is due to inactivity towards the end of the year, but a solid extra forward with a little skill and serious hustle.

Wingers:

Colby Armstrong – B-: Given his production from last year, Armstrong’s numbers slipped a bit. However, his impact this season was felt from the first game (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uqmHhJXs7Q8), throughout the season (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2RMT5LrqaY), and into the playoffs (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2gTisKFrh4A). Hockey fans have to love this guy if he’s on their team. But we need more goals.

Ryan Malone – D: Slippage in numbers not in line with rest of team’s progression. Need more from him. Not sure of long term value to team. However, gets high marks for defending teammates and being good locker room guy.

Michelle Ouellet – C+: Much better year than was expected. Played more physical and skated better as year went on. Has a great shot, but lack of foot speed keeps him from being a great goal scorer.

Rondald Petrovicky – C: Was not asked to do much and complied. However, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYoPMAz03W4, speaks for itself.

Mark Recchi – C+: Good, not great year for the Recchin Ball. Started off hot, cooled off late. He is at the top of the hill, has he gone over?

Nils Ekman – D: Kept from D- by a good performance in his one playoff game. Provided exactly none of what the Pens expected when they signed him in the off-season. Another plus – his name is Nils. Not too many of these guys around, so we need to keep an eye on him.

Georges Laraque – F: This is the most disappointing grade to me. I was unbelievably excited about the prospects of Laraque roving the ice looking for heads to collect. Instead, he ran around the ice attempting to do avoid altercations and instead concentrating on puck control. I know it sounds strange, but we have guys to do that for him. Less passes, more punches. Please.

Gary Roberts – A+: Rumor yesterday was that the Pens and Roberts are negotiating a contract for next year. This would make me exceedingly happy so long as two things happen: 1) Only a one year contract and 2) We are guaranteed a playoff spot. Watching Gary Roberts in the playoffs should teach this team a few things. It taught me a lot, too. He is psychotic. In the best way possible. Goals and guts.

Jarko Ruutu – C-: I enjoyed his play at times, but for the most part, Ruutu did a bad job of most things and a good job of gaining entry to the penalty box. I see better things for him next year, including the adding of another “u” tuuu his name.

Needs: The Pens need another top flight scorer. Jarome Iginla would be great, but too expensive. Same can be said for Ryan Smyth. I honestly don’t know where this player will come from, but we need him. Hopefully a trade or a draft pick will net us that skilled winger to play with Crosby. We are all taken care of on the grit side of things. Plenty to go around there.


Defensemen:

Mark Eaton – B+: One of GM Ray Shero’s crown jewel signings, Eaton blocked a billion or so shots, played great positional defense and was accountable for his own zone. A great signing and an undervalued member of a playoff team.

Sergei Gonchar – A-: Back to normal, Gonchar put up great numbers for a defenseman. He is getting older, but was still very effective, especially on the power play. Could have used a bit more in the defensive zone, but a solid year nonetheless.

Josef Melichar – C: Not nearly as bad as everyone believed. Responsible if not skilled defenseman who SHOULD be a 7th defenseman, but played as well as he could this year. Also, phonetically friendly to those learning to read, Melichar spells his name as it sounds instead of using the confusing “p” and “h” combo.

Alain Nasreddine – B-: Little known fact: Nasreddine finished second in plus/minus for the Pens this year, checking in at a +12 in 44 games. Respected by teammates, Nasreddine’s nickname was NOT “Lady”.

Brooks Orpik – B: Orpik reestablished himself as the preeminent physically presence of the Penguins. Ask Donald Brashear. Orpik, played smart hockey in his own zone and will continue to progress as a Scott Stevens Lite type of player in the league. Orpik is also a very good skater and teamed wonderfully with Ryan Whitney to form an offensive/defensive threat from the blue-line. Plural of Brook.

Rob Scuderi – C+: Scuderi got the most out of what he had and played a solid brand of hockey for this year’s Penguins. He is a solid top 6 defenseman who’s best value is that when he’s playing well, you don’t notice him. I think.

Ryan Whitney – A+: The Pens’ best defenseman this past year, and most likely for years to come. At 24, Whitney is rounding into a player that may soon challenge for a Norris trophy. In fact a case could be made for him this year. While he was outscored by Sergei Gonchar (67 to 59), he was by far the more defensively responsible of the two (+9 to -5). A great player who will get better from here.

Needs: Another shooter and another physical presence. This could be taken care of in one player with Sheldon Souray an unrestricted free agent, but that could be a tough financial pill to swallow. Nashville’s Kimmo Timmonen is another possible addition. From within, Kristopher Letang should join the big boys next year after spending all but 2 games with the Wilkes-Barre-Scranton Baby Penguins. He is an offensive talent who needs to be more responsible in his own zone.
Goalies:

Marc-Andre Fleury – A-: Fleury showed flashes of brilliance in almost every game he played in. However, he showed flashes of un-brilliance a few times as well. A major positive from the playoffs, is that he did not bow in a high pressure situation. He was absolutely the Pens’ best defensive player all year long, starting with his opening night shut out of the Flyers. Vezina trophies to come. Also, claims to be 22, but may actually be closer to 13.

Jocelyn Thibault – C+: Didn’t do much for me, but had few solid games. Not likely to be here next year.

Needs: Depth, depth, and more depth. The Pens are lacking a viable goaltending option outside of Fleury. Thibault will be gone next year and addressing this through the draft and/or free agency is a must.

Coaching:

Michel Therrien – A+: Therrien had a great year. He transformed one of the league’s worst teams into one of its best in exactly one year. Granted he was aided by amazing play from a group of world-class youngsters, but this was no small feat. That’s it. That’s all I have to say about him. He was that good.

Tuesday Tidbits: Tuesday Edition

(Right) Alec Baldwin speaks to his son.

Fish out of Water – I’m no Skeet Reese http://proxy.espn.go.com/outdoors/bassmaster/media/angler?anglerId=12304

After the opening day shutout, fish have seemingly gained a gigantic mental edge on me. This should not be even remotely surprising, as I have the intelligence of a night-crawler. But after a Thursday afternoon fishing foray turned into yet another shutout, and I was 0-230 on casts and 0-2 on fishing in general. Peter Gammons estimated my OPS to be somewhere around -.923. Even Dave Littlefield wouldn’t offer me a contract. However, there I was Saturday back to the scene of the crime hoping that Candace Sturgeon could get off the schneid.

Three hours later, after my buddy Diddy was called a “trash-mouth” from across the lake, and well after his cousin (and one of my favorite people) Walde finished reading his Hills recap in UsWeekly, Candace Sturgeon hit her stride. I had a few bites early in the afternoon, and had seemingly hooked a trout while everyone was at the pavilion a few hundred yards away. However, the trout came out of the water about halfway to shore and lost the hook in the process. This put me in a weird situation. I had to explain this to Diddy and Walde, but after my lack of success and utter desperation to pull in something with fins, I was worried they would think I was telling fishing tales. Luckily, Candace and I teamed up for a sun-fish. Then, we went on a torrid streak during which we had bites every other cast and pulled in three mid to small sized bass. Vindicated? Sure. Satisfied? No. I want to catch a blue whale in a stream. Then, I will be satisfied. Maybe.

Alec Baldwin Accused of Stabbing Daughter With Verbal Dagger

I mean are you serious? Calling your child a pig? Nothing solidifies your public perception better than verbally abusing your kid on voicemail. Kim Basinger may be the female Satan, but Baldwin dipped to a new low while threatening Ireland – daughter, not country – to fly to New York just to straighten her out. Now that I think about it though, I am of the belief that this was actually a veiled threat to the country of Ireland as well. It all makes sense. Follow me here.

Baldwin brothers are notorious for being Hollywood tough guys. And even though this is similar to being a short tall guy, I am sure that Baldwin has been in his fair share of scraps (with various butlers, maids, and other servants). It is also widely known that the Baldwins very much dislike people with red hair. So Baldwin, using tremendous foresight, named his daughter Ireland so that later in life when he publicly lambasted and threatened her, he could simultaneously challenge red haired Irish people to a fight and thus prove his pugilistic prowess (alliteration tangent, sorry). Just a theory.

Also, while we’re on it, Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin really did Alec a disservice by not adding a “k” and “s” to his name. Either that or drop the “c” and add an “x”. Alec? Seriously? Short for Alecander apparently, which when you say it feels like you have a severe impediment of some sort. In fact, blink really hard when you get to the “c” part of Alecander. See?


The Bachelor is Dumb: That’s it. He is Dumb.

So I watched the Bachelor last night and while you make fun of me I will be quiet. But after hearing about what an all American man this guy apparently was, I decided to watch it. Plus, I have put my girlfriend through enough hockey and basketball to last a lifetime, so I figured I could compromise. Anyways, what I saw surprised me more than coming home to find Michael J. Fox in my bathtub making a Caesar salad using a catcher’s mitt for a bowl. Every single person on that show had completely thrown in the towel on all sincerity. Sarcasm, look it up. This was a very weak showing by everyone involved. The girls were spreading blatantly untrue and inconsequential rumors. Tears flowed more frequently than Jason Wahler appears on TMZ.com (PS, check out J-Wahl playing Russian Roulette – STUNNING http://www.tmz.com/2007/04/23/wahler-plays-russian-roulette/ ). One girl cried BEFORE she went on the date with the Bachelor. A premonition or a terrible ploy for publicity? Both.

Maybe the worst part of the show, aside from the entire thing, was the Bachelor himself. The show is subtitled An Officer and a Gentleman or something like that. This guy drives a $500 k Lamborghini, is a doctor, a naval officer, an aspiring astronaut, a televangelist, a bear, a catfish noodler, a tax attorney, and an interior decorator for ant farms. Oh, and he does decathlons just to rub it in the face of every guy working a mid level job and driving a Scion and eating Wendy’s for lunch.

But every man should feel vindicated so long as he never used the following line uttered by the bachelor to a woman he had met (for a TV show) only days or weeks before: “You are my sanctuary.” Yup. He said it. At what point do you completely lose your mind and start saying things that don’t even make sense? And don’t tell me I’m insensitive and he was being sweet. I express my feelings better than Lance Bass, and my girlfriend will attest to that, but what this guy said doesn’t even make sense! “You are my sanctuary.” Grow up. I was half amazed he didn’t tell another one of the women that she was his telephone or bike rack for his car. You are my imitation marble counter. My keychain. My box of Franzia chardonnay. My paid attendance. All of these things. And yet other times, you could tell he wasn’t even being remotely sincere. He lobbed compliments with a smirk on his face that came off as, “Maybe if I compliment you, you will forget that we are on TV and stay in my room tonight for casual sex.”

At another point, as another woman poured her “heart” out to him, he exclaimed, “My heart is open. And you are one of the reasons!” Good thing he is a doctor and can probably close that. Pretty dangerous, those open hearts. The thing that worries me is that there may be women out there who are questioning why their man doesn’t say things like that to them. Or worse yet women whose men ARE saying these things. These men should remember that you don’t have to give your masculinity away to get a girl. And these women should remember that men who speak like this only want one thing: a TV show.

It's Funner in the Dark Part II: Attack of the Polish Quicksand

Quick recap for those of you, myself included, who are too lazy to scroll down. We were dressed like hitchhikers – starting from the top with khaki or camouflage hats, awkward sweatshirt/flannel and of course … rubber waders. We were those guys that when you are driving and see them on the side of the highway you always ask yourself, “Why are they dressed like that and who would pick them up?” Well, now you know. They are fishermen and you should be nice to fishermen because they have most likely been sitting outside all night waiting for daybreak to fish – not because they want to, but because they have to. Fishermen’s code. You wouldn’t understand.

Anyways, the fire was roaring. This was due, at least in part, to our greedy wood consumption. I estimate that over the course of 10 hours, we used 12.8 square acres of forest for our fire. If I am charged under some type of deforestation law this week, I will not blink twice. But it was worth it. Plus, how would you know? You weren’t even there.

It should also be noted that the ground was the muddiest place on earth. It had a consistency similar to when you put a little too much wasabi in those little Petri dish things at sushi restaurants and then start pouring soy sauce over it – it turns into that semi-solid paste that clears out your sinuses. Well this was similar, minus the sinus cleaning, and it affected everything we tried to do (as you’ll see later). Very early on in the night, I coined the term “Polish Quicksand” and for some reason it stuck.

Sometime around 2 a.m. Tim the HHR kicked it into another gear that I had not seen before. In a span of what seemed like 10 minutes, but was more likely close to an hour, HHR turned himself into a whirling dervish of amazement. It started with the round steak sandwiches he cooked up in an iron skillet over a bonfire. I am 100% sure that his skin is flame retardant because there is no way a person with normal skin could have their arm basically inside a fire for that amount of time. Amazingly these sandwiches were among the best I have ever had. No lie. They were unbelievable – and somehow they were done just right. There was no blood and no leather taste. Incredible. Shortly thereafter, HHR decided it was time to break the seal. See, Tim got bored waiting for us to leave and passed the time with scotch. Doubles of scotch. Multiple doubles of scotch. So after a few beers around the campfire, it was time to go. This was entertaining because, as outlined in Part I, Tim had chest waders on, which meant he basically had to undress to wet the ground. Completing this task was made all the more problematic by the Polish quicksand surrounding the campsite. However as HHR demonstrated all the steps he had to go through to pee, Diddy and I simultaneously noticed a holster hanging from his hip. Tim had made a passing reference to a gun when we picked him up, but later I confirmed that none of us thought anything of it at the time. Now, however, we were confused. Why take a gun to a fishing hole? This reminded me of Sean Connery from The Untouchables with the classic, “It’s just like a wap to bring a knife to a gunfight,” line. If there was, in fact, a necessity for the gun, why keep it under the chest waders which will take 5 minutes to get it out? These were my internal thoughts. Diddy, on the other hand, came out with his thoughts and thusly triggered (pun intended) the following conversation between himself and Tim:

Diddy: You have a gun!
Tim: Yeah.
Diddy: Is it loaded?
Tim: (Inserting the clip) Nope.
Diddy: Yes it is; you just put a clip in it!
Tim: (Getting irritated) No its not. The safety’s on.
Diddy: But there are still 10 bullets in it.
Tim: (Definitely irritated) Just because there are bullets in a gun, doesn’t mean it’s loaded!
Diddy and Me: ??????????????????????????

Now I’m no rocket scientist, but… This sent us all scurrying through the Polish quicksand. It’s like saying, “Yes, I know I just blew into this balloon, but I promise there is ZERO air in there. None.” Classic. The rest of night consisted of old fishing war stories from Tim and Rick, including one where Tim recounted fishing for salmon with his father in Alaska when a grizzly bear approached. Apparently HHR’s father is a little hard of hearing and the bear was able to get relatively close to him, despite the screams and pleas of HHR himself and a few others. Turning around, Tim’s father allegedly (and I am inclined to believe this) came face to face with the grizzly, preemptively roared at the bear and scared it off. No word on if he then dove into the river and caught the salmon with his teeth, but I wouldn’t bet against it.

And so the time passed, albeit very slowly as I began to get very antsy to fish. The combination of Key Light, campfire smoke inhalation, round steak and Polish quicksand had me unbelievably excited to put my line in the water. It seemed like the minutes were hours and the hours were days and the days were years and the years were actually the birthmark on Mikhail Gorbachev’s head. That escalated quickly. But you get the idea. So you can imagine my excitement as light started to creep over the tree-line. Diddy, however, was fighting off a serious bout with sleep. We did our best to keep him up, and in the end HHR took over with a flurry of stories and unbelievable conversation starters to keep him interested. Rick and I made one last creek crossing to get the rest of the fishing gear. It was around 6:30 a.m. at this point and sleep depravation coupled with Key Light had taken a small toll on my motor skills. I know this because on the way back across the creek, carrying only a tackle-box, a chair, and a few rods, I came stunningly close to going under. It was rough. But now we were close. By the time we got back to the camp-site, it was close to 7. And then we waited. And waited. Laughed at Tim, and then waited some more. Finally it was … 7:39. Still 20 minutes before we could do anything. We did, however, decide it was time to take our places on the bank so that when the time came, we could have lines in the water within seconds. It was like we were preparing for simultaneous nuclear first strikes. We were at defcon 2. We tied our hooks, baited them and made our way to the bank. Then it happened.

From my vantage point, Tim the HHR being swallowed by Polish quicksand near the shoreline was caught out of the corner of my left eye. I was about 6 feet from the fire, towards the chairs, set up on the right if you had your back to the fire and were facing the creek. Diddy was, “approximately four feet from the fire and ten feet from the creek.” And Rick, having recently used a walking stick to make his way into the water, was about four feet off shore.

The incident started innocently enough. Tim, excited by the prospect of fishing, picked out his spot on the bank. He was to fish directly in front of the fire, which would be 20 feet behind him while he was on the bank. There was a muddy knoll about 10 feet from the fire, with a downward plane on the bank-side. Tim started on the knoll itself and, apparently forgetting an entire night filled with Polish quicksand, lunged aggressively towards the creek.




Later on, Diddy recalled this part vividly. “The thing I remember most,” Diddy remembered, “is the fact that no baby steps were involved. It was almost as if he had no idea there would be mud involved.”

And there was A LOT of mud involved. Bounding from the knoll, Tim’s first big-foot like step sunk his boot to his calf. Possibly under the influence and undaunted by the potential catastrophe, he continued aggressively with his other foot, which sunk immediately to the knee. He was stuck. And sinking quickly. The mud was now close to his waist, and finally, panic had set in. The rod went first; tossed to the side as his arms flailed wildly. His torso, the only exposed part of his body, lurched backwards causing mud damage to the back and arms of his sweatshirt. We were too stunned to realize what was going on. Animal sounds, a staple of the HHR diet, pierced the peaceful morning air. Fishermen up and down the creek were now fixated on the man stuck in the Polish quicksand. It was a truly dire situation.

“He was trapped and would have died had people not been there to pull him out,” Diddy lamented after the fact.

Finally, we sprung into action. Rick worked his way out of the water and, using the walking stick, pulled him from the quicksand. Thinking the worst was over, Rick started back towards the water, but Tim for some unknown reason, lurched to his left into MORE quicksand. The stick and fallen from his hands and it took all of us to remove him. However, we were shocked at his relatively calm demeanor. Firing up a Marlboro Light, Tim the mud covered HHR was doing just fine. Disaster averted. It should be noted that about ten minutes after this event, a similar happening took place about 100 yards downstream from us. A man, not noticing the wasabi like Polish quicksand below, leapt from the raised tree-line and sunk himself IMMEDIATELY to the waist. This fellow was not so lucky as he struggled and died. No wait, that didn’t happen. But when his friends pulled him out of the mud, his hip-waders stayed put. Muddy socks and all, he was ready to fish.

And now, the countdown began in earnest. We all took our spots on the bank of the creek. Candace Sturgeon was baited with a split shot and a meal worm – prime trout food. 7:58 … 7:59 … and then … A series of plops as if a giant rabbit was defecating in the stream. Except for mine. Candace Sturgeon misfired. The hook, still baited, and wrapped itself around end of the rod. Rick screamed out, “I got one,” followed by similar cries from almost every single person on the bank around me. I had yet to even cast. Candace Sturgeon had let me down. And it wouldn’t be the last time. Ten minutes went by before I got another cast off. Meanwhile, all around me, fish were lining up to leave the stream like school kids in a cafeteria at lunch time. I made the executive decision, after watching everyone else reel in trout, to ditch Candace Sturgeon. It was like drafting the exact pitcher you wanted to your baseball team, waiting 6 months to see him in a game, and then being the manager that had to pull him after 2/3 of an inning and 8 runs for the other team. Disappointing was an understatement. Thankfully, there were plenty of extra rods for my use, but try as I might, four hours of fishing yielded exactly three bites and no caught fish. The rest of the gang had marginally better luck – Rick caught 8, Diddy caught 3, and Tim caught a number of fish, although the sound he used to describe the number sounded like a cow mating with a cat-fish.

You would think, after being awake for 35 straight hours and catching 0 fish, I would be bitter. Wrong. I was tired. But I was ready to fish again the next day. And I will be fishing tomorrow, in case you were wondering. This, my friends, is a hobby that will stick. It has really caught on with me – unlike the fish I am after. The fishing was a little anticlimactic, but I had a great time. So thank you to Diddy, Tim the HHR, and especially Rick for a great opening day of trout. I managed to escape shark attack. And really, when you think about it that is all you can ask for.

Trout Fishing: It’s Funner In the Dark, Part I

The Scene: Deer Creek (pronounced “Crick”) in Indianola, Pa. Population: 300 (give or take a few thousand). Trout population: 13 (statistics based on my own observation from Saturday, April 14).

The Main Characters: Myself, Diddy, Rick, and Rick’s step-father Tim. It should be noted that for myself and Diddy, this was our virgin opening day experience.

The Mission: To sit in the woods for 12 hours with a case each of Keystone’s finest amber brew and Rolling Rock in 40 degree weather AND still be able to fish in the morning.

The Prestige: A movie.

The outcome, Part I: Opening day of trout season in Pennsylvania fell on Saturday April 14th this year. However, for myself and three other brave souls, it started in earnest Friday night sometime just after Barry Bonds flipped Pittsburgh fans proverbial double birds by blasting 2 homers in a blowout win. The departure time was set for just after midnight from a secret location (Ricky’s house). This in itself, however, left for a few dilemmas. One – should I try to sleep? Two – How much Red Bull should I take if I don’t sleep? Three – Why, if we can’t fish until 8 a.m., do we need to be there at 1 a.m. when it is 40 degrees outside? The answers came quickly: no, 2, and Man Up. So I started packing my car around 11:20 with Candace Sturgeon (rod’n’reel), a change of clothes, and multiple hats. Multiple hats are important for … well … no apparent reason. I also started to get excited, so I called Diddy to see if I could pick him up a bit early. No answer. Called again. No answer. And again. Still nothing. This was becoming worrisome to me because Diddy is a man who got his first cell phone at 23 and hasn’t checked his voicemail since (3 years worth). Nine text messages later, still nothing. Obviously he was sleeping. Now, we had discussed this at some length throughout the day leading up to the trip, and it was generally decided that we would just stay up. However, Diddy crumbled under the pressure and snored through our estimated time of departure. This was just Diddy doing what Diddy does (for sports fans who don’t know Diddy personally, think Manny being Manny, but Polish).

Finally, as I sat in his driveway, I was able to contact him and we were on our way shortly thereafter. We got to Rick’s house not too long after we intended to, picked up his step-dad Tim and were on our way to Indianola (Rated # 17 on Pittsburgh’s weirdest town name Top 20 list) just after 12:30. As a quick side-bar, if there was a scale to measure each individual’s value to others in terms of entertainment, and this scale ran from 1 through 10, with 1 as the lowest and 10 the highest, Tim would check in somewhere around 804. I have been around this man exactly twice in my life and twice out of those two times I have been more entertained than I can even describe. Seriously. I just sat here and thought about potentially entertaining situations involving being locked in a room with a person or group of people of my choice, and could not come up with anything that matches the shear “wow” factor that Tim creates. Anyways, back to the trip. We stopped at a local Exxon to pickup some ice and other necessities and just minutes later, we parked not 100 yards from Deer Creek. We had just over 2,300 lbs. of gear to get to the camp site, which was across the creek and through the woods, make a left near the Blair Witch house and you’re there.

Approximately 10 minutes, three failed, and one successful attempt at tying my hip waders later this Fellowship of the Trout was ready to embark across a swift moving creek (which, in your head should make you picture the Amazon moving like rapids, but in reality was nothing more than a creek with a current – for entertainment purposes go with the Amazon thought). Going with us across the creek was some just under a ton of firewood, chairs, coolers, two cases of beer, food, and a life sized cardboard cut-out of Pat Sajak. We made our way down towards the creek with the intention of crossing. Just to recap, it is approximately 1 a.m. at this point and very dark. The creek is probably about 40 feet across and we are carrying our bodyweight in gear. I, at this point, have ZERO idea how deep the creek is. So Tim, who I just decided will be known now as the Human Highlight Reel, or HHR, went first into the water. Tim seemed to be none too concerned when his second step took him chest deep in water, apparently happy that he had chest waders on. However, Rick, Diddy and I all had hip waders that really only made it about mid-thigh so HHR’s route was not going to work for us. Rick set across next and then it was my turn. I gingerly walked into the creek – which I’d done before, just never with this much on the line. I had important camping goods in my arms, a 12-15 hour period of time in freezing temperatures ahead of me, and potential eternal ridicule should I have fallen. The creek bed was really soft if you don’t count the bricks, boulders, and various other bottom dwelling materials. I slipped a few times, but kept the water below the top of my waders and made it across safely.

Another side note: this should clearly be a new sport – Creek Crossing. Give contestants similar length waders, a cache of items to carry, and a pre-set creek condition. The person who makes it across the fastest with the smallest amount of dampened or dropped goods and/or clothing is the winner. Contestants would be segmented by height so you could never have a 6’5” contestant squaring off against a guy who is 5’7”. I smell an ESPN special event and Teva sponsorship. But I digress.

After fording the quick moving creek, the Fellowship of the Trout regrouped along the banks in preparation of moving off to the camp-site. It was at this time when HHR quipped that creek crossing, and fishing in general, is, “… always funner at night.” Truer words have never been grunted. Next came gathering time, because though we had lugged a large amount of firewood to our camp-site, we needed the fire to stay going for 15 hours. So off we went flashlights in hand, through the forest ripping dry wood from anywhere we could find it. With the fire crackling, we were able to relax and have a few drinks. This brings me to my next observation. Anytime a group of people have been drinking, and a camp-fire is involved, 65% of the conversation is centered on the fire itself. You get a lot of the “Wow, what a fire,” comments and the, “Seriously… this fire is just. Wow. It’s incredible. And I would tell you that anytime, not just because I’ve been drinking.” Not to mention the inevitable period of time when there is a lull in the action and you find yourself completely mesmerized by the fire – watching the embers fire off sky-ward mumbling incoherent nothings to yourself about the fire until you spill the Keystone Light you’ve been nursing onto your crotch and then jump up and run over to the fire to dry off, but get just a little bit too close only for your delayed reactions to cause a 5 second lapse between singe and jump back which causes you to stand there in amazement, again, at exactly how hot the fire is. Seriously. It always happens EXACTLY like that. But anyways, the fire is up and approaching out of control…..and now……………….we break. Tune in for It’s Funner in the Dark: Part II tomorrow. And try to guess what Tim the HHR has been hiding in his waders. Go.

Filet It.

Twenty-four hours from now, a group of brave men will caulk the wagon, ford the river, and avoid dysentery. Oregon Trail, it is not. Trout season it is. For a quick recap – the first three sentences included an Oregon Trail reference and two straight Yoda statements. But all are true. Take that to the bank and smoke it.

I have really started to get into this idea of fishing. So much so that I have named my rod (grow up). Its name ceases to be Ugly Stik Quantum as of this moment (9:41 a.m.) and will be instead ……………… Candace Sturgeon. I expect Candace to bring in a haul of trout that would make the men of Deadliest Catch jealous. There are only a few things that I am presently worried about.

1) Sharks
2) Vengeful Trout siblings and lovers
3) Fish Commission Gestapo
4) The weather

The two I am most worried about from that list are the Fish Commission and sharks. I will start with sharks. As I understand it, we will be standing in quick moving water up to approximately our knees. So as not to scare the fish, it is supposedly imperative to keep completely still under water. And judging by the muddy consistency of most of the creek beds I have been around, I would give us an 84% chance of sinking into the ground enough to be effectively stuck. Should a shark make its way downstream during this critical stage of trout fishing, a catastrophe would surely follow. I have already spoken with the local paramedics and the National Fish and Wildlife Association, and both are on alert for shark sightings in the area.

As for the Fish Commission, word on the streets is they have more power than police, the Armed Forces, and President George Bush. Combined. From what I understand, they have been behind every major conflict of the past 30 years. Any time you apply for a loan, the Fish Commission approves or denies it. If you remove the tag from your mattress, expect a Fish Commission representative at your door within 48 hours. The Fish commission was behind the sinking of the Titanic AND the subsequent James Cameron documentary on finding it. I am worried that tomorrow morning, just as Candace Sturgeon and I pull in an 8 foot striped trout, Lawrence B. Lawenforcement of the Fish Commission Secret Opening Day of Trout Creek Enforcement Unit Team, or FCSODTCEUT as they like to be known, will knock me over and cause me to be attacked by a shark. This would be the opposite of good. To put it bluntly, I know I will be lacking in the etiquette department and I’m a little worried that my trout stamp will fall out of its holder and I’ll have to spend 9 years in the tributary of a penitentiary for Wrongful Wrangling of a Creek Trout.

The goods, however, far outweigh the bads in the world of fishing. I expect to make a meal of 5 gorgeous trout. I expect to start listening to this song (courtesy of my buddy Diddy) WAY more often: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8O3Plt8DyMk (side note – please note the stonewashed denim looking guitar). And I expect that when it comes to for me to tie that blood knot while its 38 degrees and raining and fish are scurrying around at my feet, that I will tie the single greatest blood knot ever.

Tuesday Tidbits – Wednesday Edition

NEWS

Imus Issue – What he said or what he looks like?

I would not normally weigh in on this topic, but have you seen this man? Could there be a more amazing looking human? He looks like Robert Redford, the senior citizen version, beaten with a claw hammer, Frodo Baggins hair, plus a ten-gallon hat. He also bears a strange resemblance to Mason Verger of Hannibal fame. And to hear him talk you would swear that he had monumental amounts of dental surgery and has just left the gauze and cotton in there for safekeeping. That or his foot is still stuck in there somewhere. Obviously what he said is deplorable on every level. It is offensive to African Americans, women, and Italian women who have similar hair to African American women.

But I am confused as to which part is more offensive – the implied racial innuendo or the shot at women? The media seems to be tilting towards the race side, while the actual victims of the rant, the Rutgers women’s basketball team, has publicly stated its disapproval for both parts, although they seem to be taking a stand together as women first. If Imus was going for comedy, he missed as wide right as Scott Norwood. If he was at all serious, he needs some counseling. He will never escape this episode unscathed, if he does at all.

But why no backlash for the people who do this for a living? Why no CNN appearances to be reprimanded by the media for the music industry who has made billions of dollars off demeaning women, especially black women? Imus’ statement, “nappy headed ho’s,” should be offensive to the public. And if the victims themselves, the women of the Rutgers basketball team, decide they are offended (and they should be), then let us make the ugliest man in radio an example. However, it is irresponsible and hypocritical to publicly scold Don Imus for his comments about women, specifically black women, and turn around to hand Ludacris an award for putting a beat behind his.

Civil War Reenactments: The South Loses Again

I recently met the friend of a friend who told a friend that his profession is: Civil War Reenactments. This raises over a thousand questions according to Google Mind, but I will focus on a few.

1) Who would want to reenact a loser? The south, thankfully, ate it hard during the actual Civil War. And you would have to think the North would have the upper hand in the reenactment as well. So who are the people signing up to fake pain and death as the North continues their 150 year dominance? I am almost 100% sure, that if they reenacted the entire war from start to finish, the outcome would be similar to historical fact. Conspiracy theory: The south, embarrassed by a poor showing in the first go-round, is sponsoring the reenactments to find weaknesses in the North strategy and will at some point attempt to overthrow the North with muskets and Winchesters and a rebuilt Monitor or Merrimac (don’t remember which one was which and actual Google is not cooperating). Outcome: North 2, South 0.

2) Is this not the dumbest thing in the world? Answer: Yes. Why? Check out the web-site http://www.battleofselma.com/. Take the time to read the opening page and I will point out some highlights. The heading reads, “Welcome to the 20th Anniversary of the Battle of Selma Official Website.” In actuality, the Battle of Selma occurred on April 2, 1865 (Google is working again). So using the web-site’s math book: 2007 – 1865 = 20. This is good, because yesterday when I had $30 in my wallet and spent $18, I was worried that I only had $12 left. However, I know now that I have $73.

In addition, the organizers invite you to attend, “as the Confederate troops defend the breastworks against the Yankee invaders.” What is a breastwork? Anyone care to weigh in? I’m not touching that one (pun may or may not have been intended). Memo to the organizers: The Yankee “invaders” would not have been there had the South not been a baby and not sulked off to start their own nation. Grow up d-bags, this was, and is still your fault.

3) Back to the first point – the South lost. Since this is apparently starting a trend, I will be holding a Super Bowl XXX reenactment next weekend at a yet to be determined location where Steeler fans can reenact Neil O’Donnell’s touchdown passes to Larry Brown. Enjoy. Actually, this would be more like reenacting the past 14 Pirate seasons – pointless and a little bit masochistic.

4) For those interested in a schedule of stupidity, please check out http://www.sutler.net/eventlist.asp.


SPORTS


Pirates Coverage ’07 – When Talk Radio Attacks

I watched most of the Pirates 3-2 extra innings loss to the St. Louis Cardinals last night. Turns out, that was not my biggest mistake of the evening. I also tuned in on the radio side to listen to Rocco DeMaro’s after-party. DeMaro was analyzing some of the Pirate’s breakdowns that led to their demise. To his credit, he was right on in criticizing Pirate left-fielder Jason Bay for throwing to the wrong base on a fly-out in the 9th inning. With runners on first and second and a fly ball that was hit deep enough for the runner on second to tag up, the throw should have been towards second base in order to keep the runner on first from getting into scoring position. Bay, who possesses the arm of a T-Rex, should have known better.

However, DeMaro also criticized Jim Tracy for having Jack Wilson attempt a bunt with runners on first and second base, and no outs in the bottom half of the 10th inning that would have put runners on second and third with one out and the Freddy Sanchez and Jason Bay to follow. DeMaro claims that by the “numbers” this was a play that should have never happened. I am not a Jim Tracy fan by any means. However, this was undoubtedly the right play. The execution can be debated (it was awful), but the decision (it was a good one) should not.

Watching on TV, first basemen Albert Pujols was also charging. The shortstop broke for third during the pitchers windup, with the second basemen doing the same towards first base. This left one person covering 2/3’s of the infield. Wilson bunted directly to charging Cardinals third basemen Scott Spezio, who turned and easily through out the runner advancing to third. This, the execution, was terrible. If Wilson had bunted anywhere but either baseline, it is likely the play would have worked in the Pirates favor. Had he pulled the bat back and slapped the ball past the pitcher, the game would have been over. He did neither and the Pirates failed to score. Bunting in that situation would have left the Pirates with two runners in scoring position with one out, the heart of the order coming to bat, and no ready made double plays to help the Cardinals to escape from the inning. Freddy Sanchez could have brought the run home with a ground ball, a fly ball to the outfield or a hit. The Cardinals would have likely walked Sanchez to give them a force at every base, but the prospect of facing Jason Bay – he of the 100-plus RBI season a year ago – with the bases loaded and one out. For a team that will continually struggle to score runs, putting as many runners in scoring position is the best bet and Tracy’s call for a bunt in that situation would have done just that. DeMaro, for all his baseball bravado and awkward on-air flirtations, should have reconsidered the situation and team involved before going by his mysterious book of numbers – the one he constantly referred to, but never cited.

Penguins – PLAYoffs?!? PlayOFFS?!?

Yup, playoffs. And as my college roommates Tall Eric and Eamon will tell you, I love playoff. In addition, I can tell you the weather outside without leaving the house. But I digress. The Penguins take to the ice tonight at 7:08 p.m. in Ottawa for the first time in too long and a chance to show off one my favorite things: playoff beards. These are grown by hockey players as their teams embark on the playoff journey for Lord Stanley’s Cup. The Penguins, however, with teenagers like Sidney Crosby, Jordan Staal, and Evgeni Malkin probably won’t be looking like the guys from ZZ Top. In fact, they will be lucky to have 6 noticeable chin hairs. But this is a tradition that should definitely be put into other facets of life. Hitting a rough patch in a relationship? Playoff beard. Big meeting coming up at work? Playoff beard. Can’t lose the weight you want? Playoff beard. Usually, the playoff beard is most effective when used in collaboration with other people on the same side or team. So this can even apply to entire companies. Bad fourth quarter projections? Company playoff beards (women included – stop waxing your upper lip and grow ‘em). Going on trial? Lawyer and defendant playoff beards. In all facets of life, we should use the playoff beard as a motivational tool. As for the game itself, Pens win 4-2 on the road to take a 1-0 series lead into Saturday.

Tuesday Tidbits - Thursday Edition

Tuesday Tidbits – Thursday Edition

- I am taking up fishing. And this picture is what I will catch. A hammerhead shark, a blue fish with a hat, a merwoman and a Naval Officer. I will do all of this using an Ugly Stik with a Quantum reel, 6 lb. line with off the charts drag, lots of blood knots, hip waders, a dream-worthy fishing vest, two-tone bi-level split cast dreadlocked Rappala lures, and brute force casting techniques I have developed in my basement since I was 8. But I seriously am taking up fishing.

Things I knew about fishing:
1) It is done in or around water.
2) It is fun.
3) Fishermen have vests that hold anything and everything under the sun, including modes of transportation.

Things I didn’t know about fishing:
1) A lot.
2) You need a Hicktionary to understand the jargon.
3) It is borderline impossible to take up fishing without knowing a seasoned vet.

So last night my buddy Diddy and I spent two hours in Gander Mountain with our resident veteran fisher and friend Rick, who clearly doesn’t know what he is getting himself into. Gander Mountain, for those of you who haven’t been there, is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. Camouflage. If Chevy were to build the worlds most giant pickup truck, Gander Mountain is basically everything that would be in the bed. And rumor has it, even this is significantly less than what the mythical southern-heaven destination of Cabela’s offers. Needless to say, I am excited to eventually go there and get lost only to realize that every tracking device and GPS system in the world is there to help me back to civilization. But Rick was able to get us uniformed for Trout’s opening day, which falls the first Saturday after Easter and will mark the first time in my life I have stayed up all night playing cards, drinking, smoking a cigar AND THEN gone fishing for 3 hours. Watch out trout – you have exactly a little more than one week! More on this soon….

- I caught a 10 minute segment of Donny Deutsch’s show The Big Idea on MSNBC the other night, during which the following transpired. A woman in a brown leotard, skirt and Uggs, sitting across from Deutsch as his guest, revealed herself as a hand model. (This is amazing for two reasons. One - I named this one of my top 5 jobs to have when I was in hike school and two – she was a complete nut job.) The segment included a mini contest in which Deutsch would show an ad that uses hands and/or feet to sell a product and this woman would determine what emotional vibes you could construe from the picture. Completely ignoring the fact that it was, in fact, the colors or products that determined the attitude of the ad, the woman proceeded to convince the nodding Deutsch that her feet were suggestive, sensual, and flirty. He agreed. Then, the woman removed her protective gloves (They were long pink gloves like you would use to clean with, probably made by Rubbermaid) and Uggs to show off her goods. This made for the most awkward TV of the week as a salivating Deutsch asked to touch her feet. The segment then quickly turned into a weird PG-13 rated Fetish Flick and caused me enough second hand embarrassment that I changed the channel. Sorry, but watching middle aged men touch crazy people’s feet is a weekend activity for me.

- Earlier in the week, during my entirely too long Pirate Preview, I mentioned Steve Blass, Lanny Frattare, Greg Brown, and Bob Walk as the Pirates main broadcasters and somehow missed mentioning John Wehner. Wehner, a Pittsburgh native, was a huge success in Pittsburgh because he sounds awkward and doesn’t pronahnce words right. Sorry John. You were a favorite Bucco of mine and every other Pittsburgh kid.