Football, Football, & More Football…

Diary of weekend events (formatted & edited for relevance to post title):

Saturday

10:00 AM – Flag Football Practice (The season starts next week! Are you ready for some football!!??)

11:16 AM – Executed “Sweet Play of the Day” by throwing perfect TD pass in scrimmage against opposing media league team (it really was a sweet play.).

!2:30 PM – Oregon v. Purdue (Quoth My Alli: “GO DUCKS!”)

4:29 PM – Oregon scores game-winning touchdown in 2nd overtime after ralling back from 17 points down. (Quoth My Alli: Thank you, Jesus… My stomach hurts.”)

5:00 PM – USC-Ohio State (quoth My Alli: “I’m going to take a nap.”)

5:33 PM – Fell asleep during first quarter of USC-Ohio State game (which was, for all intents & purposes, over at 5:32 PM – shortly after the Buckeyes & Trojans game kicked off).

8:01 PM – Woke up, observed USC-Ohio State score (35-3), fell back asleep.

10:22 PM – Holy crap! UNLV just tied Arizona State!

10:36 PM – Holy SHIT! UNLV just BEAT Arizona State!

Sunday

10:02 AM – Loaded dishwasher while flipping back and forth between Carolina-Chicago & Oakland-KC (droll)

11:35 AM – Working on home improvement project while ignoring Carolina-Chicago & Oakland-KC.

1:20 PM – San Diego – Denver kicks off. (Dammit, can’t I see the 49ers at home, for once?)

4:14 PM – Observe online that SF Kicker (AKA “The Human Howitzer) misses game-winning field goal at end of 4th Quarter. (holy crap! We scored 30 points? This is not your 2007 49ers, ladies & gentlemen)

4:26 PM – Observe online that “The Human Howitzer” connects on game-winning field goal in overtime. (Launch into daydream of making the playoffs this year)

4:27 PM – Celebrate game-winning field goal by fist-bumping with the cats (AKA “Poop Machines”). Exchange text messages to fellow Niners fans.

4:28 PM – San Diego gets flat out ROBBED by the “incredibly-ripped referee” and goes on to lose to Denver.

4:47 PM – ESPN replays game-winning field goal. (I’m overcome with emotion at this point. We scored 33 points today. I don’t know what to say. You could probably combine SF points in five games last year and still not have it add up to 33. Mike Martz, welcome back.)

5:22 PM – Faith Hill sings opening song to “Football Night in America” game. (I checked, and actually, you can combine the 49ers scoring in six games last year – and the total comes out to 33 points. In one game, they got shutout.)

5:34 PM – Realize the Arizona Diamondbacks lost again which means the Dodgers are still in first place by 4.5 games! (Magic Number: 10)

5:39 PM – Post this. Goodnight!

Uninspired by Brett Favre, I’m Staying in Retirement

From One Champion to Another: Who's No. 1?

Right about this time last year, I called it a career. Hung up the clipboard for good. Deleted my best bookmarked websites. My Calico Gunslingers & I rode off into the sunset, carrying a handful of Fantasy Football Championship Banners.

Yes folks, last year, I retired from Fantasy Sports.

In less than ten years, I climbed from below mediocrity to the highest peaks of victorious glory, and earned a hefty amount of cash in the process. Between 1998 and 2007, I think I won more than $1,400. I won or finished second in the “B-Town” fantasy football league five times - in this millenium. I rode LaDanian Tomlinson to three league titles, including my final Championship in what would be my final season, 2006.

You may be reading this thinking, “Why would any guy who loves sports give up Fantasy Football?”

Simply put: I lost the passion for fantasy.

The final season was stressful. It was dominating my life. Five to six months a year, I was eating, breathing working, drinking & sleeping football. There’s no end to the amount of information out there to read before you draft your team, or pencil in your starting lineups every Saturday night. It envelopes you like a dust storm, clogging your ears, your nostrils & your mouth, forcing you to close your eyes until the dust settles. It’s all consuming.

And it was time to walk away.

There was no dramatic farewell speech, no fighting back tears, and no “I’m 99.9% sure I’m not coming back.” There was only an e-mail & a phone call to my friend & league commissioner, which included a few trash-talking well-wishes exchanged between two fantasy competitors who spent ten years stealing each other’s sleeper picks and almost annually knocking each other’s teams off in the money rounds of the playoffs. 

That was it. I was done.

Since then, I’ve been asked to participate in leagues at work, for both baseball & football. Despite my past successes, I felt not even the slightest tinge of desire to start it up again. It just isn’t worth it anymore.

There’s only so many hours in my day, and most of them are consumed by work, (am I on deadline again already? Guhhhhh) sleep (obviously, not as much as I’d like) and my girl (my life’s joy). I do find time to keep track of my favorite teams, and lucky for me, my girl enjoys football & basketball – and for the most part, puts up with my teetering obsession with the Dodgers. Sometimes, I am able to get in touch with friends & family (again, not as often as I’d like or as I should). But there’s just no time for fantasy anymore.

There’s now only reality: A condo with a pair of mortgage payments, a new car payment, braces & a ring I’m still paying off – among other life expenses. Then, there’s the future, whatever it holds, and what I’m planning to do with it (when I get around to it – which, at 31, I’m realizing it’s about time I get around to it). There’s a wedding to plan, another one or two to be a part of, and so many places out there in the world I haven’t seen & can’t wait to see with my girl.

I guess, if there is a point to this, it’s that sometimes, quitting something you loved isn’t bad. I was lucky enough that I went out on my own terms. I wrestled with it, just like Brett did: Should I stay or should I go? Even after I made the decision, I waited until the last possible moment to announce it – just in case that “ol’e feelin” came back. But, it didn’t. I think it’s gone. And, you know what? That’s okay. It gives me more time to think, more time to create & more time to work toward a dream. And let me tell you something – at this point, I’m not even exactly sure what that dream is – but I can guarantee you, it doesn’t involve trying to figure out whether or not Anquan Boldin or Larry Fitzgerald is going to be Matt Leinart’s favorite target, trying to “guestimate” my opponents’ “keepers” or ranking the rookie running backs in order of “predicted” yardage & touchdowns based on likely opportunity.

To Brett, I wish nothing but the best. However, I have a feeling that when he’s under a pair of 275-pound defensive tackles after an inside blitz, he’s going to feel just a smidge of unretiree’s remorse.

Brace Yourself

It’s fitting… my retainer that is. Actually, I have two of them. But I’d rather write about what I don’t have anymore - which is (are?) braces. They’re finally gone. After 13 months of sore mouth, flesh-sticking-to-metal, toothpicking after every meal and my personal favorite, wire-tightening (grrrr mucho no bueno) it’s over. Sure, there’s still the occassional trip to the dentist to get checked out — and I have to get my teeth cleaned once in a while. But Dr. Colbert (Well, he says it’s coal-burt but we all know it’s Cole-Bear) somehow managed to get my teeth straight, closed the gap that haunted my smile, and get all the glue-shit they use to secure the braces to your teeth OFF my grille.

So what else have I been up to for the past seven months? Let’s see:

• Flew to Santa Maria to be in a wedding.
• Flew to Portland Oregon to meet my girl’s parental units.
• Went home for Mother’s Day.
• Drove up the Extraterrestrial Highway to eat lunch at the Ale-inn Cafe.
• Went to my first NASCAR Race (Borrrrring).
• Helped my company Softball team to a TV League Championship.
• Threw my girl one hell of a fun birthday weekend (Dining out at Bellagio, sneaking into hotel pools, sending her to the best Spa in Las Vegas — just a few of the highlights)
• Bought her a ring
• It’s a really nice ring
• Managed to keep it secret long enough to fly to San Francisco to hang out with my sister & her “sexy man” before popping the question on Chrissy Field overlooking the Bay & in the shadow of the Golden Gate Bridge.
• Did I mention it’s a really, really nice ring?

And so on and so forth. Sure, I left out a few things, like producing umpteen newscasts and nearly destroying my TV after the Dodgers blew a five-run lead in the 8th inning one night, but, you get the picture. I’ve been a busy bee.

Now, I’m a braceless bee. Licking my chops (literally) in anticipation of my first chomp into some corn on the cob. Maybe I’ll chew some gum afterwards.

And, I’ll try to be more diligent keeping this thing going strong. Because, frankly, it’s not like I’m sleeping that much better. But, at least I’m still “on the go” & “in the know.” And I’m no longer “Railroad Face.”

Prison Break!

It’s funny what happens to your life when you finally Get a Life. Not that I didn’t have a life before — but certainly living in my more-or-less self imposed prison of “Work-Gym-Home Rinse Repeat” wasn’t exactly “living the high life.”

Now… I’ve got a girlfriend. A standing date! Someone who makes television damn near obsolete (except for news)! No joke, several times since Alli & I got together — we’ve spent the evening talking without even turning the TV on. How in the world does that happen? I’m not exactly sure, except for that I love her mind and her ideas and we seem to never run out of things to say.

I love cooking — and I love cooking for an audience. Now, I always have an audience of One. (Sometimes Three, if the cats are interested in my dish, which only occurs when I open a can of fish. Anyway) It’s wonderful for me to just prance around the kitchen in my goofy ways, doing little things to make Alli giggle while fixing her up a vegetarian dish and fixing me something a little more “meaty.”

My cold, unfriendly feeling bachelor pad has now become OUR cozy little home. I can’t believe I’m typing this in our “wreck” room — what was once my spare bedroom & my roommate’s room. Now, it’s our “everything else” room (as in everything else goes in here). Our living room looks completely different, the old computer area now features a nifty wine rack — and the bookcase found its way into the hallway. The kitchen still needs work but the sink has a new garbage disposal (installed by yours truly in just under 4 hours) and the bedroom & bathroom are works in progress. But… most importantly, my life now has a “woman’s touch” to it — and frankly, I couldn’t be happier about it.

Of course, the first thing that went out the door once I got the woman’s touch was the gym. I don’t know how people in relationships (okay, really good relationships) find time for it! I’ve worked out maybe 4 times in the past 7 weeks. Luckily, I don’t eat like a pig anymore and amazingly, seemed to have lost weight during a few bouts with illnesses. Since muscle weighs more than fat — I’m figuring I’ve lost a little muscle tone here and there but not enough to notice too much — until I tried to curl what I had been curling at the gym in early December. I don’t miss the gym so much, but it is a safe place, a place of meditation & self-improvement. Now, I’ve acheived the goal of my self-improvement workout efforts: I’ve got the girl! So now, I need new motivation to get to the gym that gets me out of bed in the morning (since evening workouts really are no longer an option for me) and lights a fire under my butt to get there. I’m thinking that my slowly developing gut may just get me there. This effort, however, requires me to go to bed earlier. If I wake up at 7:20, I can easily get to the gym by 7:45, then get in a solid workout and be back by 9:00 to get ready to be at work by 10-ish. Sounds simple, but… it means I best be in bed asleep by 11:15 every night or else… I’m not getting up that early.

So Love=Prison Break! And I know I’ll get back to the gym consistently eventually. But it’s so nice to have a life that feels like it’s worth living.

The Desert in December

It’s cold. It’s been windy all night. I know because I’ve been up listening to it. Not intentionally mind you – just another sleepless night – which isn’t entirely true since I did sleep for about an hour on the couch before waking up to go to bed. Then I couldn’t find sleep again. Ugh.

The heater ran later than usual tonight (now this morning) since it’s cold. By cold, I mean relatively cold since it’s only just below freezing. The Weather Channel said it’s 11 degrees in Denver this morning. That, my friends, is friggin’ cold. However, don’t we look cozy in the photo? (snapped by yours truly at the Bellagio Conservatory)

The temperature changes have always bothered my sleep patterns for some reason. Tonight I’m wondering if being all cozy at 79 degrees inside (with the heater running constantly) affected my ability to crash in bed. Tough for me to curl up under the covers when my smokin’ hot lady is warmin’ them at a toasty 98.6 – and then outside said covers it’s warm too. I think that my body struggles to find the happy medium between comfortable and too much comfort. I like to be a little hot and a little cold – that’s how I maintain “warm.” Usually this constitutes most of my body under the covers, except for maybe an arm & a foot. My feet are my thermostats. If they are hot, I’m hot (which is why I wear flip flops all Summer long to combat heat stroke) and if they are cold, I’m cold (had to switch from thin cotton to heavy cotton socks the other because my feet were chilly just hanging out around the house!). So one in the covers, one out means one is hot one is a little cold and Bri is nice and warm but not overheating.

Or, it’s simply the fact that for the first time in what feels like forever – the previous night I actually got more than enough sleep. Nine hours, give or take, which I was in desperate need of since being in love at this stage of it simply demands that you actually sleep less – which, quite frankly, I’m not complaining about.

So it’s December in the Desert… And I can’t sleep. Bring on the New Year already.

So this is what love is!

I finally found the girl. The “One.” Miss Right.  As my aunt says, “You found your duck.”

Coincidentally, she is a duck. An Oregon Duck, and now, she’s my duck. Ducks apparently mate for life. Which is perfectly fine with me.

Her name is Allison. My Alli. And I’m absolutely certain she was made just for me — as certain as she is that I was made for her. She & I are so alike — we’ve been joking for months we are the same person. Yet, she also brings into my life her talents I don’t have – as I bring to her life some talents I have that she doesn’t. She can organize and loves to clean. I can cook. We can be creative together, but in our own different ways. We complete each other — as cliche as that sounds, it’s the most appropriate phrase I can come up with.

I’m going to try to explain the unexplainable. How do you make someone understand this kind of love, this kind of experience if they’ve never experienced it for themselves? It’s not settling. It’s being patient for the right time. It’s wonderful! It’s better than anything I thought it might be, better than anything I ever dreamed it could be.

I think, it’s a little bit of destiny. Some magic dust or something. Fate. Soulmates. Yeah, I wrote that. And I never thought I would. But for the first time in a very long time, I believe in soulmates. And I believe — we both believe — we have discovered ours in each other.

This love that she & I have found – it’s still so new, and yet, it’s without doubt. It’s without any second thoughts. It’s without anything that gives either of us pause. Not even a hint of fear or worry or overanalysis. We both just look at each other, and we know this love is the most special kind of love.

I didn’t think I’d ever find a woman who I would look at and think “I can’t live without her.” But my Alli, she is that woman.

I can’t begin to express how happy I am at this new development in my life. I am excited about building a future with this amazing person: My Alli.

Happy Annivorcery!

December 9th marks five years since my divorce became final. Now… it was all over long before that, but still, that day represents the true breaking away from a life that imploded on top of me.

The actual split took place in April 2002. At the time, it was excruciatingly painful. I had come to lean on her far too much for support since I struggled to develop any friendships — and she had developed a close friendship network with people she worked with. But our relationship had struggled prior to that, mostly due to my immaturity and her blind ambition. I hated being the second… and later, the third…. most important thing or person in her life.

The fallout was traumatic. There were confrontations as I finally began fighting for myself and what I wanted (or at least, what I perceived I wanted at the time) and approached all parties involved trying to achieve that goal of reconciliation with my wife. However — by that time, she was too far gone. At the very least, I armored myself against painful strikes from her — I used the phrase “carpet bombing” — where she would tell me she didn’t love me anymore in a different manner of ways — maybe not exactly those words, just saying everything that indicated that was the case.

She fell in love with someone else. And fell out of love with me. It didn’t happen immediately, but it happened. And it was the absolute best thing that ever happened to me.

Why? How?

Friends came to my rescue. A “River Swann” took my hand, whisked me up into the mountains away from the memories, and helped me find myself again. I’ll be forever grateful to her for taking me under her wing. I found some peace working at a secluded camp teaching kids how to tell the difference between ground squirrels and grey squirrels. Singing campfire songs. Playing in the “Manzanita Maze.”

Then I fell into TV. I found a career. I could write! I could create! I could lead! Most importantly I began making more friends. And more friends. And developing the intensely close friendships that come with working in a high-pressure environment. Thank you, Trihey.

It took years but I became a TV News Producer — and took to it like a fish in water. Then came Vegas: more new friends, more learning new things, and seeing new places while living in one of the coolest cities in the world.

I lost a person who didn’t love me and a life I didn’t choose — but just was afraid to walk away from. What I’ve gained, in friendships, in a career, in a life, will forever trump the two years I was “officially” married and the loss of that marraige.

Another thing: the divorce experience was the first time I’d ever felt true, intense emotional loss and the pain. associated with that loss. It’s excruciating. It’s agonizing. It’s also mind clearing. It hardens you – but not in a bad way. I realized that pain is temporary. Time heals. I developed resolve. It took time… but I overcame the most painful experience of my life.

Then about 6 months later, my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He had surgery, then one good year roaming the country with mom… before passing away from the cancer in March 2004. But I was prepared for the pain. I knew how to handle it — the divorce experience gave me everything I needed to realize that I would be okay, and I could handle it, and hopefully my family could lean on my strength in our darkest hours. Nothing hurts like losing a parent. I call it the curse of being a child — someday, we have to bury our parents — because God Forbid they have to bury us. But there is nothing like that loss.

I turn 31 next weekend. I’ve lost a wife and a father — and recovered from both. My life could be better but I’m grateful for what I have, what I can do, and all the possibilities the future holds. But this life I have now — none of it would be, if it had not for my ex breaking the ties.

If I saw Heather today, I would thank her for doing what I was incapable of : walking away. Thanks to her, instead of being trapped in a failing relationship, struggling to figure out why it wasn’t working like I had hoped and dreamed it always would – I’m free. Free to grow, free to live… and free to find the true love of my life.

I just wish she’d hurry up and get here already!

In the meantime… I’ll keep working on myself, working through my issues, in my effort to be the best I can be when she arrives.

Heather, Thank You.

What is “Fallopian Tube?”

The last hour of my work day is the one I look forward to the most. Not just because I’m almost off work — but because I get to see all my days work come to fruition. And get to hear the comments different stories stir up from our “booth” crew — which is infinitely more funny than “Mystery Science Theatre 3000″ but in the same context. I purposely seek out one or two stories a day that I know will inspire comments. One day, it was a story about two huge trashbags bags of weed (yes, the “hippie lettuce”) found on the side of the road — which my booth pals loved. Yesterday it was a story about a bengal tiger mauling a construction worker in California, to which Z-Dub promptly speaks up: “Siegfried & Roy were unavailable for comment.”  Also yesterday, I decided to give the Big Fella TWO hugs. (I bring the happiness!) I know he’s quite disturbed by this… and frankly,  now that I think about it… so am I. There’s lots of love to go around though. These are simply microcosms of the most intense hour of the day — in the middle of live TV, we’re able to still do our jobs and laugh and have a lot of fun.

Then… comes Final Jeopardy. Thankfully, it takes place during a commercial break, or else none of us would be able to work for the minute it takes to play the theme music and get through three answers. Amazingly — somebody on our crew almost always gets the answer off the category — before we’ve even seen actual “clue.” Which is how we ended up with Z-Dub’s long -standing FJ answer (which I predict, will be right someday): What is “Fallopian Tube?”

From the Newsroom
 We ushered in an AP Candidate from Sioux City Tuesday who looked like a fish out of water ALL DAY LONG. You know, the type who wanders around the newsroom where they know a minute after showing up — they’ll never work there. You could just see it on her face. For a visual, picture an Oompa Loompa who did not dress for a job interview but more like a trip to the corner market for cigarettes. This chick was easily the most disturbing candidate in quite a while.
I also enjoyed the varying portrayals (by about 10 different people) of a story about man walking out of a burning apartment complex — looking like a zombie from Night of the Living Dead. Horrifying in one context – but absolutely hilarious in the newsroom.

We’re sick people. 

I’ll take “Female Anatomy” for $200, Alex.

Ode to a Daredevil

Evel Knievel passed away yesterday. He was 69. How he actually lived to be 69 years old is somewhat amazing. Evel always spoke from the heart, he never bullshitted anyone, and fear was never a factor for him, Joe Rogan.

So, in honor of Evel, I submit to you my “Ode to a Daredevil:”

 There is no obstacle long enough to give him a moment’s pause, for Evel never feared his death while seeking the applause. In ‘68 his fountain jump set the standard for the stunt, even though the crash left him comatose for damn near a month. Six years later he told the Brits they’d seen him leap his last, until September rolled around when he strapped a rocket to his ass. His Skycycle never made it cross the Snake, but on that day he became a household name. And to cash in on his new found fame, Evel Knievel jumped again & again — Until the day his body could no longer take the abuse. By 1980, he ran out of juice. He may have set records with his broken bones, but all we’ll remember were the size of his stones. And now I wonder this morning, at exactly 3:58:  will St. Peter let Evel jump over the Pearly Gates?

“No king or prince has lived a better life,” he told The Associated Press in May 2006. “You’re looking at a guy who’s really done it all.”

 Evel Knievel. Legendary Daredevil. Gone… but never to be forgotten. 

Some Random Pre-Bedtime Thoughts

When rest escapes me for days on end, I turn to an old trusty tactic: medication. This has taken several forms in the past. For a long time, it used to be melatonin. Then it was Nyquil (best Nyquil joke ever: It’s so strong, after taking it, you wake up with a beard down to your ankles and a chalk outline around your body) and now… I’ve turned to Advil PM. Sometimes if my back is sore I pop two regular advil along with my PMs to knock out the pain. On occassion I take vicodin but I’ve only fallen asleep once after taking it. (it’s GREAT for relaxing though.) But I can see how people get addicted to pain killers. Luckily, I don’t have an addictive personality — I’m passionate about sports & breaking news — but not addicted them.

Which brings up an interesting question: What’s the difference between addiction and passion? One is negative, one is positive. You can be addicted to sex but also have passionate sex ( I appear to have neither one ). You can have passion for a woman — but in fact, you can also become addicted to her. If she wants you too — it’s love — but if she doesn’t want you, you’re a stalker. Maybe even freakishly so. Maybe she gets you a restraining order, and you get arrested for looking at her, and then you go to jail and end up some inmates butt buddy. But I digress. My point is that you can also have passion for something like leadership or success — from another perspective you may be addicted to power. Passion, however, is most often associated with positive & addiction with negative. So the next time someone wants to know if you’re addicted to alcohol, maybe you can just say you’re passionate about drinking. By the way, this is actually a ridiculous topic of discussion.

And Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t I graduate high school? I know I put the degree somewhere… I only ask because apparently every time I invite someone I work with out for dinner or a drink, I get asked the next day about my “date.” Are you kidding me? First off, buddy, it’s none of your Gawd Dam business what I do on my free time, or who I do it with. Second, grow up. Ridiculous. Anyway… The Lakers are just destroying the Nuggets right now, and I want to savor this.