Happy Birthdays to you,
Happy Birthdays to you,
Happy Birthdays dear Beloved Spouse and Sole Heir,
Happy Birhtdays to you.
Among the many serendipitous occurrences of my life, the two best reasons I have for getting out of bed in the morning share a birthday. Today's the day. How cool is that?
Showing posts with label sole heir. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sole heir. Show all posts
Monday, March 01, 2010
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Yellowstone
It's now one year to the day since The Sole Heir and I spent the day at Yellowstone Park. Not a week goes by I don't think about how I can get back.
It's good to have goals.
It's good to have goals.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Wrapping Up the Frozen Four
Some personal observations on last weekend’s Frozen Four hockey tournament:
- It’s hard to describe the enthusiasm of the crowds. Each school had a corner of the rink for its fans, and each brought their pep band to keep things revved up. It didn’t matter who scored, half the building erupted, the other half groaned.
- Bemidji State’s pep band had a previous commitment, so they borrowed George Mason’s band. This was great for multiple reasons. GMU was the Cinderella entry in the 2006 basketball Final Four, as Bemidji State was for this year’s hockey tournament. Both teams’ colors are green and gold. It was worth the price of admission to watch the band and student sections shout cheers at each other, cheers the band would just have learned that week. Both groups obviously has a ball. The conductor’s green tux was sweet, too.
- No matter how many times I see it, I still stay to watch hockey players shake the opponents’ hands after beating the snot out of each other for two-and-a half hours.
- Each team formed a semi-circle to face their fans’ corner of the ice and saluted them with their sticks at the end of each game. Very classy.
- In the play that defined the weekend for both The Sole Heir and me, a Vermont player dove head first, with his stick fully extended, to keep the puck from sliding into the empty net as time expired. The outcome was not in doubt, but he’d be damned if he was going to lose by two goals. Seeing a 5-4 score in the record book tells future generations it went down to the bitter end; 6-4 just doesn’t look the same. Helluva play.
- Not only did we get some national TV time in a crowd shot, The Official Main Squeeze of The Sole Heir got a picture of it on his cell phone and sent it to her while we were still in the building.
In summary:
Tickets: $360
Tee shirts and souvenirs: $108
Food: $75.
Having my kid think of me when the tickets came available to her: Priceless. This was as good as the 2007 US Open. In some ways better, since it was her idea.
- It’s hard to describe the enthusiasm of the crowds. Each school had a corner of the rink for its fans, and each brought their pep band to keep things revved up. It didn’t matter who scored, half the building erupted, the other half groaned.
- Bemidji State’s pep band had a previous commitment, so they borrowed George Mason’s band. This was great for multiple reasons. GMU was the Cinderella entry in the 2006 basketball Final Four, as Bemidji State was for this year’s hockey tournament. Both teams’ colors are green and gold. It was worth the price of admission to watch the band and student sections shout cheers at each other, cheers the band would just have learned that week. Both groups obviously has a ball. The conductor’s green tux was sweet, too.
- No matter how many times I see it, I still stay to watch hockey players shake the opponents’ hands after beating the snot out of each other for two-and-a half hours.
- Each team formed a semi-circle to face their fans’ corner of the ice and saluted them with their sticks at the end of each game. Very classy.
- In the play that defined the weekend for both The Sole Heir and me, a Vermont player dove head first, with his stick fully extended, to keep the puck from sliding into the empty net as time expired. The outcome was not in doubt, but he’d be damned if he was going to lose by two goals. Seeing a 5-4 score in the record book tells future generations it went down to the bitter end; 6-4 just doesn’t look the same. Helluva play.
- Not only did we get some national TV time in a crowd shot, The Official Main Squeeze of The Sole Heir got a picture of it on his cell phone and sent it to her while we were still in the building.
In summary:
Tickets: $360
Tee shirts and souvenirs: $108
Food: $75.
Having my kid think of me when the tickets came available to her: Priceless. This was as good as the 2007 US Open. In some ways better, since it was her idea.
The Frozen Four
We’re back from The Frozen Four, and, once again, I wish was as smart every day as I was when I told the Sole Heir to score those tickets. (Especially since I passed on buying them myself a year ago.) Personal observations will follow. Today I need to review the games themselves, as they still haven’t worked their way out of my system.
Thursday’s opening game was worth the trip. How were we to know it would be the least exciting game of the three? Miami of Ohio used its superior size to hammer Bemidji State through an even first period, then wore them down. Miami doubled Bemidji’s shots on goal in the second and third periods and won going away, 4-1, on an empty net goal.
Thursday’s nightcap was widely considered to be the championship. Boston University was the overall Number One seed, and Vermont was solid; Miami and Bemidji were fourth seeds who snuck in with hot weekends in their regional tournaments. BU had lost twice to Vermont during the season, but jumped out to a 2-0 first period lead. Vermont countered with three quick, unanswered second period goals, but BU tied the game late in the period. Vermont took a 4-3 lead midway into the third, but BU scored twice within 1:13 for a 5-4 victory.
Saturday’s game was supposed to be a formality, but, in the only planning mishap of the weekend, no one told Miami. They came out unintimidated by BU’s reputation and didn’t back down after falling behind a goal after one period, tying the game with a second period goal.
Tightly played through the first ten minutes, Miami began to assert itself about midway through the third period, to the extent The Sole Heir and I noted to each other that Boston had “better think of something or they’re in trouble.” Miami scored with about seven minutes to go, then with just over four left to make it 3-1 and Boston really was in trouble.
BU called timeout and pulled the goalie with 3:30 to play, which is a lo-o-o-o-ong time to leave the net open. The way Miami was playing defense, I would have bet on another 4-1 final. This is why I don’t bet. BU scored with 1:00 left, then again with 13 seconds to play to send the game into overtime. The noise after the tying goal was so great the sound backwashed in and out of my ears until it sounded like a siren.
Overtime in a hockey playoff is the most exciting, nerve-wracking thing in sports. First, it’s true sudden death. Each team has equal opportunity at the puck (unlike football), and the goal will likely come out of nowhere to end the game in an instant. Second, teams are always far more interested in scoring the winning goal than they are worried about giving it up.
Miami came out like the last minute of regulation never happened: confident and aggressive. Both sides had good scoring chances as the game went up and down the ice, until A BU player took a shot from near the top of the left face-off circle. A Miami player tried to block it, but his timing was a split second off. The puck deflected off his leg and floated end-over-end over the goalie’s shoulder and into the net. Game over.
A truly great game, regardless of the sport or level of play. The kind of game where, if you weren’t a hockey fan going in, you would be coming out.
Thursday’s opening game was worth the trip. How were we to know it would be the least exciting game of the three? Miami of Ohio used its superior size to hammer Bemidji State through an even first period, then wore them down. Miami doubled Bemidji’s shots on goal in the second and third periods and won going away, 4-1, on an empty net goal.
Thursday’s nightcap was widely considered to be the championship. Boston University was the overall Number One seed, and Vermont was solid; Miami and Bemidji were fourth seeds who snuck in with hot weekends in their regional tournaments. BU had lost twice to Vermont during the season, but jumped out to a 2-0 first period lead. Vermont countered with three quick, unanswered second period goals, but BU tied the game late in the period. Vermont took a 4-3 lead midway into the third, but BU scored twice within 1:13 for a 5-4 victory.
Saturday’s game was supposed to be a formality, but, in the only planning mishap of the weekend, no one told Miami. They came out unintimidated by BU’s reputation and didn’t back down after falling behind a goal after one period, tying the game with a second period goal.
Tightly played through the first ten minutes, Miami began to assert itself about midway through the third period, to the extent The Sole Heir and I noted to each other that Boston had “better think of something or they’re in trouble.” Miami scored with about seven minutes to go, then with just over four left to make it 3-1 and Boston really was in trouble.
BU called timeout and pulled the goalie with 3:30 to play, which is a lo-o-o-o-ong time to leave the net open. The way Miami was playing defense, I would have bet on another 4-1 final. This is why I don’t bet. BU scored with 1:00 left, then again with 13 seconds to play to send the game into overtime. The noise after the tying goal was so great the sound backwashed in and out of my ears until it sounded like a siren.
Overtime in a hockey playoff is the most exciting, nerve-wracking thing in sports. First, it’s true sudden death. Each team has equal opportunity at the puck (unlike football), and the goal will likely come out of nowhere to end the game in an instant. Second, teams are always far more interested in scoring the winning goal than they are worried about giving it up.
Miami came out like the last minute of regulation never happened: confident and aggressive. Both sides had good scoring chances as the game went up and down the ice, until A BU player took a shot from near the top of the left face-off circle. A Miami player tried to block it, but his timing was a split second off. The puck deflected off his leg and floated end-over-end over the goalie’s shoulder and into the net. Game over.
A truly great game, regardless of the sport or level of play. The kind of game where, if you weren’t a hockey fan going in, you would be coming out.
Monday, December 01, 2008
The Way it Should Be
The Sole Heir’s Beau is a formidable hockey player. (I have it on good authority he’s even better at lacrosse.) Thanksgiving weekend brought a tournament conveniently located at the local rink, so we took the Parental Units over to see how we spend our free time.
Friday’s game was a 5-0 win, and so much fun we went back on Saturday to watch a 3-3 tie. Mom and Dad left Sunday morning, so The Sole Heir and I went back at 12:30 to see the championship game, with the winner advancing to a tournament in Canada next January.
You couldn’t see a more entertaining game at the Olympics. The Beau scored on a partial breakaway about five minutes in. That lead held up until a scrum cost our team the lead about midway through the second period. The game was a true goalies’ duel, both teams getting multiple scoring chances only to be stoned by the opposing goaltender.
Regulation ended 1-1, but there had to be a winner, as only one team could advance. The five minute overtime ended in a tie, so a shootout was called for. The teams would take turns with just a single skater trying to beat the opposing goalie. The team with the most goals after five attempts—all by different players—would win.
The visitors (from North Carolina) scored on their third shot, and it came down to our last chance. The goalie made most of a save, but the puck trickled through his pads and came to rest no more than six inches over the line. Still tied.
Now it’s the shootout version of sudden death: if they score, we have to match. If they miss and we score, we win. It went about ten rounds. Beau had the goalie set up for the same shot he’d scored on earlier, but the puck hopped on the chippy ice and he fanned on the shot. (Just as well; him shooting the winner would have been too much like a bad movie.) About ten shots in a Montgomery County player finally beat the Carolina goalie clean.
You would have thought they’d won the Stanley Cup the way they came screaming off the bench to bury the shooter, then turn as a group to engulf the goalie who kept them in the game. As hockey tradition dictates, both teams shook hands, then lined up to be called individually to receive their trophies, and run the handshake gauntlet again. Several winning players were detained in their round by losing coaches, who were genuinely happy for them, joking and slapping backs. It was as fine a gesture of sportsmanship as I have ever seen.
I hung with the Beau’s father after the game, waiting for the kids to come out of the locker room. “I think that last goal cost me about six hundred dollars,” he said, commenting on the price of the Canada trip. Huge smile on his face.
If you ever get tired of watching millionaire athletes bitch and moan about every little thing, go find a kids’ game somewhere, preferably at a level where no one has any real expectations of playing professionally. The play just as hard, if not as well, and there are few things in life as pure as the elation that goes with winning something for its own sake.
The way it should be.
Friday’s game was a 5-0 win, and so much fun we went back on Saturday to watch a 3-3 tie. Mom and Dad left Sunday morning, so The Sole Heir and I went back at 12:30 to see the championship game, with the winner advancing to a tournament in Canada next January.
You couldn’t see a more entertaining game at the Olympics. The Beau scored on a partial breakaway about five minutes in. That lead held up until a scrum cost our team the lead about midway through the second period. The game was a true goalies’ duel, both teams getting multiple scoring chances only to be stoned by the opposing goaltender.
Regulation ended 1-1, but there had to be a winner, as only one team could advance. The five minute overtime ended in a tie, so a shootout was called for. The teams would take turns with just a single skater trying to beat the opposing goalie. The team with the most goals after five attempts—all by different players—would win.
The visitors (from North Carolina) scored on their third shot, and it came down to our last chance. The goalie made most of a save, but the puck trickled through his pads and came to rest no more than six inches over the line. Still tied.
Now it’s the shootout version of sudden death: if they score, we have to match. If they miss and we score, we win. It went about ten rounds. Beau had the goalie set up for the same shot he’d scored on earlier, but the puck hopped on the chippy ice and he fanned on the shot. (Just as well; him shooting the winner would have been too much like a bad movie.) About ten shots in a Montgomery County player finally beat the Carolina goalie clean.
You would have thought they’d won the Stanley Cup the way they came screaming off the bench to bury the shooter, then turn as a group to engulf the goalie who kept them in the game. As hockey tradition dictates, both teams shook hands, then lined up to be called individually to receive their trophies, and run the handshake gauntlet again. Several winning players were detained in their round by losing coaches, who were genuinely happy for them, joking and slapping backs. It was as fine a gesture of sportsmanship as I have ever seen.
I hung with the Beau’s father after the game, waiting for the kids to come out of the locker room. “I think that last goal cost me about six hundred dollars,” he said, commenting on the price of the Canada trip. Huge smile on his face.
If you ever get tired of watching millionaire athletes bitch and moan about every little thing, go find a kids’ game somewhere, preferably at a level where no one has any real expectations of playing professionally. The play just as hard, if not as well, and there are few things in life as pure as the elation that goes with winning something for its own sake.
The way it should be.
The Sole Heir Rides Again
I don’t like to put personal stuff here, unless it might be entertaining to someone other than myself. I usually bend that rule when The Sole Heir does something that demands recognition. This is one of those times.
She was accepted into the University of Pittsburgh a couple of weeks ago. That received no mention here because, frankly, we knew she’d get in; I’ll be more surprised if a college doesn’t take her. This weekend’s noteworthy feat was the arrival of another letter from Pitt, awarding her a four-year, full tuition scholarship, including a $2,000 study abroad stipend, and $500 for books. She also qualifies for a full Chancellor’s Scholarship, which will cover room and board if she gets it. (Miami of Florida offered maid service. Honest to God.)
This isn’t a done deal on her part; she’s still waiting to hear from a few schools so she can compare offers. Still, having a school as prestigious as Pitt in her back pocket—sans tuition, no less—takes a lot of stress out of waiting for the other replies.
Pitt also included a certificate for the parents, in appreciation of the support required to create a student of this caliber. Thanks, but they can keep it. First, this is a parent’s job; honoring us for not being derelicts should not be required. Second, while a poor home setting can adversely affect scholarship, no home environment can create a student of the skills The Sole Heir, and some of her friends, have developed. Her mother and I each have Masters Degrees; neither of us has been able to provide material assistance to her academically since she was in eighth grade. I can take no more credit for her achievement than I can for her brown eyes. True, she inherited the tools, as I did before passing them on; no credit is due there. The work is hers alone. I only hope her own high standards don’t prevent her from being as proud as she should be over this accomplishment, whether she accepts the deal or not.
Almost as proud as I am of her. Good job, La Binque.
She was accepted into the University of Pittsburgh a couple of weeks ago. That received no mention here because, frankly, we knew she’d get in; I’ll be more surprised if a college doesn’t take her. This weekend’s noteworthy feat was the arrival of another letter from Pitt, awarding her a four-year, full tuition scholarship, including a $2,000 study abroad stipend, and $500 for books. She also qualifies for a full Chancellor’s Scholarship, which will cover room and board if she gets it. (Miami of Florida offered maid service. Honest to God.)
This isn’t a done deal on her part; she’s still waiting to hear from a few schools so she can compare offers. Still, having a school as prestigious as Pitt in her back pocket—sans tuition, no less—takes a lot of stress out of waiting for the other replies.
Pitt also included a certificate for the parents, in appreciation of the support required to create a student of this caliber. Thanks, but they can keep it. First, this is a parent’s job; honoring us for not being derelicts should not be required. Second, while a poor home setting can adversely affect scholarship, no home environment can create a student of the skills The Sole Heir, and some of her friends, have developed. Her mother and I each have Masters Degrees; neither of us has been able to provide material assistance to her academically since she was in eighth grade. I can take no more credit for her achievement than I can for her brown eyes. True, she inherited the tools, as I did before passing them on; no credit is due there. The work is hers alone. I only hope her own high standards don’t prevent her from being as proud as she should be over this accomplishment, whether she accepts the deal or not.
Almost as proud as I am of her. Good job, La Binque.
Friday, July 25, 2008
A Brief Hiatus
The Home Office is suspending regular operations for two weeks to make a fact-finding journey with the Sole Heir to the home of the Sibling Correspondent in Colorado, aka The Home Office West. Craze will meet us there, arriving by air a day ahead of us, as we drive through Maryland, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, and Kansas.
The trip home will consist of a minor detour through Wyoming (Shoshone National Forest, Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks), Montana (Yellowstone River, Little Big Horn), Wyoming again (Devil's Tower), South Dakota (Deadwood, possibly Mount Rushmore, the Badlands), before heading back through Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois (again), Indiana (again), Ohio (again), Pennsylvania (again), and home to Maryland (finally).
So enjoy the time off. I'll be back, fingers well rested, with a new blog to add to The Home Office's expanding media empire. Rupert Murdoch quakes as you read this.
The trip home will consist of a minor detour through Wyoming (Shoshone National Forest, Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks), Montana (Yellowstone River, Little Big Horn), Wyoming again (Devil's Tower), South Dakota (Deadwood, possibly Mount Rushmore, the Badlands), before heading back through Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois (again), Indiana (again), Ohio (again), Pennsylvania (again), and home to Maryland (finally).
So enjoy the time off. I'll be back, fingers well rested, with a new blog to add to The Home Office's expanding media empire. Rupert Murdoch quakes as you read this.
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