Winning and Losing, Both Are Confusing...and Lent sucks

As is my custom, I'm about two weeks behind the news cycle. Whatever I'm about to write about Tiger Woods is probably regurgitated from things I've heard other people say or things other people have already said.

It's Lent, now, and Lent sucks. Being the season of Catholic repentance commemorating Jesus' 40 days of temptation in the desert and culminating with a brutal form of capital punishment. Ok, so that Easter thing works out well. In the spirit of that season, the family and I have given up sweets completely. No cookies in lunches or frogurt after supper or ice cream or cake, and so forth. Sometimes I've used Lent as a time to jump-start a diet or replace bad behaviors with good ones. This year, in an effort to honor it's place as a time of repentance, I can offer some couched apologies - and they're only couched in the interests of people's privacy.

To my wife and friend, Carol, who has walked a long and winding road with me. I am not - and perhaps will never be- the best boyfriend, husband, father, and friend you might have hoped for, and for all of my deficiencies, I am sorry.

To the kids, yeah, I owe you one too.

To my parents, to whom I've not been the best son.

To my brothers, who I'm not always there for, and who deserved a better big brother.

To my deceased grandparents, who put up with me as a spoiled brat and awkward teenager.

To my only uncle, I'm sorry things were never completely smoothed over, but glad that you and my mom were able to bury some animosity.

To P and L, I can't give anything back, but I'm sorry for what I took.

To my friends, and you know who you are, I haven't always been as caring and attentive as I've meant to be.

....I guess that's it. If you don't know, don't ask.

So Tiger Woods goes on the telly and issues his statement last week while I'm working. He certainly sounded like a guy who was reading from a piece of paper, but his voice also showed what I hope was genuine human emotion. Tiger's like Todd Marinovich (if he'd been succesful), he's an almost genetically designed "Robo-golfer". From a young age, he was a phenom and remained so. The word "failure" wasn't an issue for him, as it never really happened. Who ever told him "No"?

His father passes away and he's left with enablers (I know nothing of his mother). Girls throw themselves at the guy. Perhaps his wife was once one such girl (I have no clue). Take a tremendous, history-making career in what's been a fairly short and successful life, then analyze it all through the prism of the past 3 months. Since Thanksgiving, the man and his family have entered the crucible of the public eye. His November car wreck starts the ball rolling and the rumors begin shortly thereafter. How far down does Icarus fall? His December statement is intensely scrutinized and talking heads are dividing up his bones because we all know he won't survive this. His wife's photographed not wearing a ring. Then rehab. All dispensed for the public's consumption.

This really must be tough for the man behind "Robo-golfer", and his family.

Seriously, he's got kids, and I assume that means something to him. As for the wife, who knows? Perhaps she knew exactly the measure of the man prior to this and perhaps not.

So...back to his "statement".

What I liked about it was the sense that- perhaps- he'd remembered the person he had been and the person he'd always wanted to be. Not just the athlete. Not just the famous endorser-of-products. The person. I recall myself as a kid, wanting to be a person who was honest and just and hard-working and faithful, etc. Inevitably, humans fall short of that idealized person, but remembering your ideals can help you back on the path. Who am I? What defines me? Does the fact that I engaged in lousy behavior define me? Tiger's golf doesn't define him. His adultery, hopefully, won't either. At least, I hope not.

But, as they, say, we'll see.

So, Tiger's the "winner" I was thinking of at the beginning of this blog. The "loser" is the sport of ice hockey.

Why in the hell does no one care about this amazing sport? I enjoy NFL football and it's gluttony of corporate interests, but my enjoyment of the No Fun League is waning with every ticket-price increase and catalog of "fine NFL-themed merchandise" I get in the mail. Apparently, there's a market for NFL-themed thongs. I shudder at the thought...well, I shudder only a little bit.

Sunday, there was a preliminary round game between Team USA and Team Canada. In Canada, something like half of the entire country watched the game - and cried. But here in good old US of A it was an afterthought on some channel called MSNBC (which also carries Olberman, I think...to which this blogger says....meh). The game was AMAZING. Canada owns the game, they invented it, it's the fabric of their society blah blah blah. And our boys (and women, by the way) went up to their barn and beat 'em. Wasn't pretty, but it was everything great about the sport: fast skating, offensive chances for both teams in an up-tempo back-and-forth way, excellent defense and clean checking, and amazing shot-blocking and goal-keeping. This isn't the NBA, where shot-blocking means getting a hand up, in hockey this means allowing a frozen puck moving at speeds over 85 mph to bounce off your body. I play, I have had my bruises, and they hurt like hell.

What is it about hockey that scares US citizens? I think it's perception. And competition. ?Hockey's regular season is on the long side and begins just as baseball is wrapping up and the NFL season gets rolling in earnest. Alongside those pillars of society is the NBA, which draws people's money and time away, too.

Hockey is fast-moving. Football is slow. Hockey is a fluid game. Football is rigid and heavily-governed with a million nutty rules on what constitutes "a catch". Hockey is hard-hitting. Football is - but they aren't wearing skates. A bad hockey game usually has a great deal of hitting and perhaps fighting. A bad football game is....just an awful thing to watch.

Take a chance, you bunch of stick-in-the-mud afraid to try anything new scaredy-cats, and watch a hockey game. Tell 'em you were scolded and shamed into watching it, for all I care. It's worth the effort.

whew

"Witness the white bear of the poles, and the white shark of the tropics; what but their smooth, flaky whiteness makes them the transcendent horrors they are."

Herman Melville, Moby Dick, Chapter 42

I am writing today, at the end of two blizzards. In between my last writing and today there were a few hockey games, a Super Bowl, and snow. Lots of it. I make my domicile in suburban Maryland, not quite Baltimore and not quite the District of Columbia. They tell us, regularly, that we who reside here cannot deal with snow.

I have no quarrel with that statement. All empirical evidence points to it being a fact. Snow is apparently (see the above-referenced quotation) scary stuff.

I cannot be certain, as it has all begun to blur together, but I believe I have shoveled snow every day since Saturday last. I cannot tell you the date today, I simply don't know. I have shoveled and re-shoveled and re-re-shoveled. If you live near me, you know what I mean. Before this week, I was a "snow person." Now, I wanna live in the tropics.

Snow brings the family together, in a fighting kind of way. Tempers have grown short, games that once amused are deemed "boring", and much food has been consumed. Apparently, one develops a taste for pancakes and pot roasts while the gods of Winter rage outside. So be it. I guess I can exercise in July - when I can complain about the heat and humidity.

There was a Super Bowl five days ago, wherein the underdog Saints emerged victorious. Perhaps my heart isn't as idiotic as I'd thought (no no no, it's plenty dumb). There's nothing I can say about the game that would be as amusing as Bill Simmons' ESPN article about "The Manning Face". Part of me feels bad for ole' Peyton, and another doesn't. Hey - how about this? The Super Bowl was a pretty good game again. That gives us 3 of the past 4 (Sorry, the Chicago/Indy game sucked) as good ones. I think the games have been competitive since the 2001 laugher bewteen Baltimore and the NY Giants. That's pretty good, right? Anyway, enough football, there's always next year if you are like me, and your team wasn't that good.

The "big game" spawned all this "big commercial" crapola. OK, I get it, a ton of people watch it so there's a captive audience and it's the IDEAL moment to spring this year's selection of dumb action movies and pithy catch phrases. What-friggin'-ever. The Letterman spot was funny. The Dorito's commercial with the bark collar was funny. Blah to the rest, if I even paid attention. I guess I didn't. Alot of people, they say, watched. Duh - we were all stuck in our houses wondering why God hates us so much he gave us all this snow.

There was -oh, by the way - a great nail-biter of a hockey game on Sunday, too. The Washington Capitals and Pittsburgh Penguins played a regular season game as if it were a seventh-game Stanley Cup final. If you missed it, well, your loss. Caps were down 4-1 and tied it and potted the winner in OT. Ovechkin potted a hat. Crosby had 2, I think. Hard-hitting. Fast skating. Zippy passes. It encapsulated why ice hockey is the best game in this world. Someday, I'll get to that "why hockey is the greatest" blog.

Not this day. Enjoy your snow shovels, you might need them again soon.

Sunday's on the phone with Monday, and Tuesday's on the phone to me...

The event-horizon has been reached. The eagle has landed. The burrito has ground beef in it. We have prevailed.

The Prince is potty trained. Check that off the list.

I make this pronouncement a mere 33 days (give or take) after making it my New Year's resolution. I cant' take all the credit, his mom helped enormously. There are still some refinements to make, mostly regarding bedtime (pull-ups are OK, diapers are now for babies), but it's been a smashing success. There ya have it: our first kid took us nearly 5 years, by child #4, we've shaved two full years off that. I smell improvement. And, best of all, I don't need to wipe up human waste every day.

I left two items off my "best of" list. The first, Kelly Clarkson's "My Life Would Suck Without You" is fun and catchy. Certainly not what I like to admit listening to, but I like it and I like her. So.....

The other was "So What" by Pink. I have no idea if that's a 2009 song or not, but in 2009 it was new to me. I am slowly fading into obsolescence, and no longer fully recognize the landscape.

The Grammys slammed this home. Years ago I knew most of the bands and all of the songs. I blame the horrible programming on radio. It's a wasteland of songs you've heard for 30 years. Especially what passes for "rock radio." Ugh.

My first son turned 9 yesterday and yes, the cat is in the cradle with a silver spoon. Carol made a cake and I made chili (per The Previous Prince's instructions) and he was given several gifts. His favorite being a Snuggie. Which I will use in an hour or so when I sit down to read my biography of Raymond Carver. What a fantastic invention! A blanket. With sleeves! I'll be napping within 10 minutes. The nurses will thereafter bring my tapioca so I can take my medication easier.

He got Marvel Ultimate Alliance 2, which is kind of fun. I was/am a comic geek and the joy of playing a video game based on comic book superheroes with my son is....well, it's joyful. Ok, so the description was a bit of a letdown. I can't decide if I like slicing up bad guys with Wolverine or clobbering them as Spidey. Both are fun, but I really wanna use the Hulk and go all King Kong on this game.

Hmm....I think I need a job.

I saw on CNN this morning that, in New Hampshire, the Fed has sent over $30 million dollars and created all of 79 jobs as a result. Hell, here I was thinking that kind of scratch would create - oh - idunno - 3,000 jobs?! Is that so crazy? Seriously, how dumb can people be? Ludicrous, really.

Which leads me to Tim Tebow and the opinion of Sally Jenkins in today's Washington Post. I thought she wrote a well-reasoned piece defending Tim Tebow and his stance on the issue of abortion and his right to have a 30-second spot during (gasp!) the Super Bowl. I agree with her, 100%. The message being promoted in the commercial is preachy - sure. And it espouses the viewpoint of those who would call themselves pro-life. So what? Is that somehow wrong? Face facts, folks --- most of the electorate knows their mind on the abortion issue. This PSA is going to persuade pro-life folks that their position is correct and persuade pro-choice folks of....nothing. I am no authority, but I think the stats back up the fact that over 50% of the country describes themselves as pro-life (who's pro-death? I don't know any. Also, pro-life should equate with "anti-death penalty", killing is killing, BTW).

The article also points out that confessed virgin Tebow is an anomaly in the world of highly exposed athletes. I guess people expect their on-field heroes to misbehave and treat women badly. This guy, allegedly, doesn't. Not a bad role model, huh?

So, read it if you're interested. It's on the Washington Post's site, I'm technically inept and thus can't insert a link. I'm missing several chromosomes or something like that. Can't do it.

As for Sunday's game, Dwight Freeney is supposedly injured. Is he, or will this be the miraculous Willis Reed moment where the great warrior emerges from his team's tunnel, hobbling out giving it his best shot and - shock!- has the game of his life. Paul Pierce did it. Reggie White did. Dan Fouts. Favre. Painkillers do wonderful things!