A long trip and a great day remembered
And since yesterday went from a 5 a.m. wake up call in Portland to blog before a long journey through Vancouver got me at Casa Doug about 9:45 p.m., there wasn’t a lot new stuff to think about.
Man, am I glad that one’s over.
Longest trip of the year, in games, time and soul-sucking losses that turned every story into pretty much the same one.
But some personal observations and tips, if you want:
Lumpy’s in Salt Lake and Epic Brewing’s Brainless golden ale.
A fine end
If you can shut down the trip after the last game at Kell’s in Portland with Gumby and catching up for an hour or so with Jay over a Kell’s lager it kind of takes some of the sting out of the journey.
Jay’s doing extremely well, loves being back on an NBA bench, truly enjoys simply coaching and working with players rather than dealing with some of the extraneous crap NBA coaches have to put up with. Loves the city, the organization and looks more relaxed than he ever did in the final year on the bench here.
Oh, and the Irish natchos at Kell’s (potato chips rather than tortilla chips) are outstanding.
You sit out an eight-hour delay at the Sacramento airport and I defy you not to want to stick pins in your eyes.
Speaking of The Kells …
It’s got to be about four, maybe five year ago and I find myself at a table there (it’s an excellent Irish pub with good music) with Stumpy and Jack Armstrong and was introduced to one of the worst concoctions I can imagine.
Ever hear of an Irish car bomb?
Half a pint of Guinness, drop a shot of Bailey’s in it and, boom, slug it back.
Now, I can’t handle the texture of Guinness nor its taste (had one on a tour of the factory with Super Granddad more than a decade or two and couldn’t have a second) and Bailey’s is a nice with coffee and that’s about it.
Anyway, they knock down a few of them and Stumpy is just starting his Slice Of Life rants in the Little Paper That Used To Grow so he writes about our night out and what we had consumed.
The Super Wives here in and Lewiston were not impressed; and Stumpy giggled every time we ragged on him about it.
And now that I’m home until a Christmas Day flight to San Antonio (I’ve got about Dec. 18 when Super Wife and Super Son are ready for another departure) it’s time to relax a little bit.
Nice ring to it, no?
Not sure what today is going to be like but I can sure tell you what 12-12-92 was like.
It snowed like nobody’s business in Toronto but that couldn’t stop the Wedding Of The Century from unfolding.
Super Wife in calf-high snow boots walking into the church before changing for a glorious stroll down the aisle, me looking ravishing and a tad nervous and the tuxedo-clad groomsmen and best man stopping for a post-ceremony pre-reception cocktail at some dive around Broadview and Gerrard and being asked if they were the band.
Yeah, was a helluva day for Super Wife and I and 60 of our then-closest friends.
Best thing I ever did.
And when you’re watching the HOTH tonight, I won’t be; I’ll be remembering all the good of the last two decades.
(And probably fielding a lot of calls from ticked off friends who took the under)
Yes, I believe David Stern might be getting a wee bit soft as he prepares to ride off into the sunset as NBA commissioner after the late-night suspension handed down to Amir Johnson.
The dude rifled his mouthpiece at a referee and hit him, for goodness sake.
But I guess the mitigation might have been the complicity of referee David Jones in the whole matter and Amir’s clean disciplinary sheet in the past.
Still, the one-game dead did surprise me.
Gonna make for some interesting lineups tonight when the Nets come to down, especially if Bargnani’s elbow is still an issue. That leave only Valanciunas, Davis and Aaron Gray as available bigs and that sound you hear is guys like Reggie Evans and Hump licking their lips.
So I understand this is the last week of publication of a printed edition of The Sporting News and we of a certain vintage should have a moment of silence.
Now, I will fully admit I was far more a Sports Illustrated guy back in the day but The Sporting News was a decent second to Sport Magazine on the list.
(Yes, kids, this was even before there was an ESPN!)
Anyone remember racing to get that week’s Sporting News so you could read the notes on each team and check out the boxscores of the week?
That was kind of cool and gave rise in some small way to the notes pages that started to appear in newspapers which gave rise to notes packages that started to appear on the internet (hello, Nothin’ But Net) and I guess you can thank the Sporting News for this.
Or something like that.
Hey, one more 12-12-12 note?
Not only did we set up The Wedding Of The Century to have a 20th anniversary on the last day ever we’ll have a date like this but it was also a birthday celebration of The Chairman Of The Board.
And, oh yeah, we danced to this one, too.
So the name-calling is over and I’m not taking much crap any more.
The whole comments part of this is to stir discussion, present alternative viewpoints and I think we’ve done it quite well over years.
But now? Now the name-calling and personal crap is over the top so it’s zero tolerance now. I’m not sitting here and letting anonymous people hurl personal insults, it’s a priviledge to have stuff show up here, not a right. It’s far to easy to block IP addresses and e-mail addresses; keep in civil or else. No warning, no nothing; you’ll be able to read but not write and my already high blood pressure might go down.