The Greatest Sporting Event I Ever Witnessed

This post is inspired by the inimitable Chuck Klosterman, who, on the recently launched sports and pop culture site Grantland.com, told the story of the greatest sporting event he has witnessed in person. The most endearing quality of the piece is that it is a game that, if it were not recounted by Klosterman, would be entirely forgotten. And while my story does not involve an undersized Native American basketball team holding off a superior junior college team with only three players, it is a story that needs to be told. The world must know what happened in Austin, Texas in 2004 when the ice hockey teams of The University of Texas and Texas A&M University faced off.

[Finding scores and recaps from the 2003-2004 hockey season is about like finding information on my 2nd grade tee ball team, so from here on out I'm relying on my own faulty memory. (I thought I got close for a minute, but then I realized I happened upon the intercollegiate roller hockey league, which of course has records dating back to the beginning of time.) Edit--I was able to find scores from A&M's 03-04 hockey season.]

I started business school at Texas in the fall of 2003, and I happened to have two classmates who played on Texas's club hockey team. The team played Baylor at the spacious Travis County Expo Center, home of the now-defunct Austin Ice Bats, and won 12-2. A Texas hockey fan described the collegiate hockey scene as follows: "Texas is winning 12-2 today, but when they go and play Oklahoma, they lose 12-2. And Oklahoma would lose 12-2 to a team like Michigan." Texas A&M, it was explained, was more on the level of Baylor than of Texas. (Looking at recent results, there is now almost complete parity among Texas hockey programs.)

Texas defeated A&M twice during the regular season by a combined score of 11-1, and the two teams met again in the playoffs at Austin's Chaparral Ice, a place where you might host your child's birthday party if you weren't fast enough to book Chuck E. Cheese. The match was witnessed by 50 or so people.

The game started predictably enough, as Texas secured a two-goal lead behind a superior front line that completely outmaneuvered the Aggies' defense. Early in the second period, Texas had a 4-1 advantage. The game seemed over, save for one fact: what the Aggies lacked in talent, experience, size, speed, quickness, and strategy, they made up for with grit, determination, pluck, moxie, and overall "underdogness." A&M closed the second period with two goals to bring the score to 4-3. Seven years later, it's difficult to find the words to describe how they managed to push the puck through the net twice so quickly. There's something about hockey and its (ideally) fluid motion that accentuates the differences between competitors of varying talent levels. Also, Texas kept running out fresh bodies, while A&M had fewer players on their bench, most of whom just sat there, conspicuously. I would have expected this difference in manpower to have borne fruit for the Longhorns by the end of the second, but instead A&M took a few chances on defense and, with the help of a well-placed shot and a fortuitous rebound, found themselves in a game at the beginning of the third period.

The final period began with great hope for both Aggie fans in attendance. And the goal that Texas scored toward the start of the third did not immediately seem to be an impediment to a comeback. But then it happened. The team that had, up to this point, directed all of their focus and energy toward the task at hand directed it toward the opposing team. I don't think the Aggies went two minutes the rest of the game without committing a penalty. Not content to commit garden variety fouls, they elevated loss of composure to an art form. The smallest amount of contact would have them trying to take the heads off their opponents. A player who lost the puck on a breakaway decided, rather than going after the puck or getting back on defense, to plow, full speed, into the goalie. He was among several players ejected.

With the A&M squad decimated from disqualifications, I thought they had made a mockery of what was, just a few minutes earlier, quite a compelling game. But then I saw the players coming off the Aggie bench, and I realized why they had sat for the entire game. You see, in fielding a roster of about 15 players, Texas A&M had managed to pick up about 10 who could actually skate. The crown jewel of the Aggie bench was a 6'5", 300-pound behemoth who was the last man off the bench. The only thing shakier than him on skates was the skates underneath him. He was so unsure of himself on skates that obviously were not intended for someone of his size that you started to wonder how he intended to skate at all, until you realized that he had no intention of skating. His first move was to collide immediately with the nearest Longhorn (in fairness, he may have just been looking for the closest object to cushion his inevitable fall). All that remains of this game, the final score (10-3), leaves no indication of how close it nearly was and how crazy it got.

The hockey game unfolded like a three-act play, with each act offering something entirely different. Aggie fans saw a tragedy, and Longhorn fans saw a comedy. I'm not sure what I saw. I've been to plenty of meaningful, suspenseful, and entertaining games, but this was the only game that I feel broke the rules of athletic competition. It was two periods of a great hockey game and one period of pure train wreck. Part of what makes the craziness of this game so interesting, though, is that it was authentic. Seeing how Aggies and Longhorns treat each other when nobody's watching, it turns out, makes for very compelling viewing.

Everett at Three Months

We just crossed the three month threshold with Everett, and there definitely is something to be said for three months being a point where you exhale and begin to see the fun of parenting. For his first month, Everett was content to stare at walls, scratch his face, and generally hang out. That was at his best. He also, of course, screamed a lot and generally required us to be doing something to him (feed, bathe, change) every minute of the day. The baby books and the internet tell you that infants will feed 8 to 12 times per day for the first month, but Everett so liked the milk he was getting that he fed 12 times a day for the first eight weeks! He was especially cranky during evenings, to the point that Brandi often suggested that he had colic. We had a cavalcade of visitors to help us weather the storm of screams. I had some success with swaddling and turning him on his side, and I would occasionally put him on one of the stairs (closely monitored) to calm him down. I set a record of getting peed on three times in the span of 12 hours that still stands to this day.

Month two was filled with a lot of exasperation with the fact that Everett was still being a baby. Here are some of the things he could have done in month two that would have helped us out: space out his feedings (which, to his credit, he did toward the end of the month) and maybe smile or make sustained eye contact or give us just a little something in exchange for all the time we were investing in him. Everett added smiling to his repertoire, but whenever he smiled it seemed like an accident. And he'd look at people, sort of. More like look past them.

Month three brought additional, purposeful smiles, plus more activity and something that almost resembled interaction--he was looking more at people and giving them some sustained attention. This month was filled with travel, as I spent 19 days away from home and did not spend a single Friday night in my own bed. Brandi was a champ, getting Everett to sleep longer and then going back to work. We tried reading and toys and other things with little luck and varying consistency, but mostly we just marveled at a little boy adjusting to the world around him. Sometime in month three we determined that Everett is a pretty chill little kid--it's been a while since he cried for any sustained time. He's chunked up over the last several weeks, moving from below average to above average in weight.

Now that he's three months old, Everett smiles on a regular basis, and he even mixes in the occasional giggle. His favorite place to be is definitely the changing table, where he always smiles and laughs. He also will smile if he's not ready to go to bed--okay, mostly he cries and squirms, but if he's been having a good time, he will test you with a playful smile to see if you want to pick him back up. He babbles to himself, especially when he's sitting in his carseat. He's generally a calm baby, but he'll kick up a storm in no time.

Palindrome Poems

When I was living in Bedford, I had a lot of free time on my hands. How much free time? Well, I wrote two of the longest and most complex palindrome poems that have ever been created. They got deleted when I closed my old website, so here they are for posterity.


#1:
I saw suine go try tramp art,
laid arena, crania, gyms,
awe lupine poem,
now straw or cotton.
Wolf robbed evil itself
for a wade in edifices
(animal’s raw nit ego, temper).
Prevent it.
Never prep me to get in war,
slam in a sec if I denied a war off,
lest I lived ebb or flow.
Not to crow, arts won me.
Open, I pule:
was my gain arcane,
radial trap, martyr to genius?
Was I?


#2:
I made ill a sane, rare tale of wonder.
A dewy myth gimps as I ran,
I’m esodic,
I nap tons, rent rapture, damn a metal.
Otiose was I, lived a broke embargo.
Two new, as I won in a test.
One rewield, I defer,
saw names rap satire.
Monotone? No.
To no merit, a sparse man was refed.
Idle, I were not set.
An “I” now is a “we.”
Now, to grab meek or bad evil is awe,
so I to late, manmade rut.
Partners not panic, I do;
seminar is asp mighty.
My, we dared now foe, later arenas.
Allied am I.

40 years and 3 months

Christmas 2010

Today is a very special day. April 18, 2011 would have been my parents 40th wedding anniversary. I used to have trouble remembering their wedding day, and I remember many times talking to my mother when I was in college and her reminding me more than once that it was their special day, and I would say, "Oh, oops, sorry...I forgot Mom--Happy Anniversary!", not dwelling as much on it as I should have.

Once I got older and especially once I was married I realized the significance and just what a history those decades provide. This past week I considered my parents wedding day even more so than ever before and thought about my mom constantly. How do you imagine such a day passing without that partner to write another day with you? Those decades of history must include many challenges of building a strong relationship that can get you to number 40. I know they included the growing pains of raising a family and supporting each other through changing careers mid-life. Looking back now so close to our tragedy they all look like such good years with sweet memories.

I can't help but feel yet another mixture of emotions on this special and sad day. 40 years doesn't happen very often anymore, and I am happy to have been there for a small part in it. And yet sad because to love so strong and so much comes at such a high price. I know life will go on, and we have a big reminder of that as today is also Everett Winston's 3 month birthday. On yet another heartbreaking milestone for my family, and especially for my Mom, who is missing her best friend, we celebrate the life and wonderment of our baby boy.

Happy Anniversary, Momma and Daddy. For you are still in our hearts as one special and loving couple.
Happy 3 Months, Everett Winston. May you look back in 36 years and be reaping the benefits of your parents long and happy marriage.

For more pictures: http://picasaweb.google.com/daniel.lauve

Charlie Sheen vs. a Random Sentence Generator

Random Sentence Generator: "The godlike floors are writing on Jupiter."

Charlie Sheen: "I'm tired of pretending I'm not a total bitchin' rock star from Mars."

RSG: "A sane bowl of soup is loving outside of the faces."

CS: "Basically, they strapped on their diapers."

RSG: "The onions laugh incredibly very far away from the iPhones."

CS: "There's a new sheriff in town and he has an army of assassins."

RSG: "The sexist skirt had been dancing horribly in the Titanic very far away from the lightbulbs."

CS: "It's been a tsunami of media and I've been riding it on a mercury surfboard."

RSG: "The muscular forest will be drinking well in a person's couch on the monks."

CS: "Your face will melt off and your children will weep over your exploded body."

RSG: "The bombs were driving outside of the banana."

CS: "I don't have burnout in my gear box."

RSG: "A glove wants to attack on top of the rock band."

CS: "They picked a fight with a warlock."

RSG: "The truly, truly nice-looking CDs want to fall normally in space."

CS: "I'm just going to sail across the winds of the universe with my goddesses."

RSG: "The wall is communicating in Hogwarts while communicating very close to the disco singers."

CS: "Clearly, I have defeated this earthworm with my words. Imagine what I would have done with my fire-breathing fists."

RSG: "A monkey will be standing."

CS: "I will deploy my ordinance to the ground."

RSG: "Popeye is exploding beside Starbucks."

CS: "It's a turd that opens on a tugboat."

RSG: "The peculiar terrorists were singing somewhat far away from the criminal."

CS: "I'm dealing with soft targets, and it's just strafing runs in my underwear before my first cup of coffee."

RSG: "The dictionaries want to eat well inside of the thieves."

CS: "Resentments are the rocket fuel that lives in the tip of my saber."


Conclusion: Charlie Sheen is more likely to speak in the first person.

Flux Capacitor

This post is dedicated to Everett's aunt Cristina, who was a huge help to us as we got back from a rough trip through East Texas. She and her fiance Daniel came over with lots of food and helped us get back on our feet in Austin.




With all of the unrest in Libya, I have been thinking about how that would affect a possible reboot of the Back to the Future franchise. Libyans, as you may know, compose one of the more major plot points of the original trilogy. How might Robert Zemeckis recast his film if he were forced to exclude a certain North African nation whose currency is highly radioactive materials? Here's how I think that might go:

[Cristina McFly straps on a guitar in front of a large amplifier. She turns up all the knobs, grabs a pick, and just as she is about to begin playing, Doc Mejia hurriedly enters the room.]

Doc [clutching the newspaper from January 19]: Marty! Marty! Amazing news! Everett Winston Lauve was born on January 18 at 11:47 p.m.!

Cristina: Yeah, I know! Wait, let me see that paper!

[looking at the photo on page D1] There's the little kid, oh and there's Brandi, and Daniel, and Jimmy and Connie and Brent, and dad and mom and Alicia. Wait a minute, what happened? I'm not in that picture. It's like I've been erased!

Doc: Erased from existence...

Cristina: Doc, what can we do?

Doc: Well, actually there is something we can do. Let me show you something.

[cut to the parking lot at the Twin Pines Mall.]

Doc: Marty, look at the my stopwatch and Einstein's. They're exactly one minute apart!

Cristina: Wait a minute, Doc, are you trying to tell me that you built a time machine...out of a DeLorean?

Doc: Well, I figured, If you're going to build a time machine, why not do it in style?

Cristina: What about the plutonium?

Doc: The Tunisians wanted me to build them an atomic bomb, so I took the plutonium and built them a dud out of pinball machine parts!

Cristina: Doc, I've got an idea, if this time machine can take me back in time, I can hop back into that picture at the hospital!

Doc: Great Scot! That's a hell of an idea. Well, you'd better get going. Oh no...they've found me...I don't know how, but they've found me.

Cristina: Who?

Doc: Who do you think, the Tunisians! Run for it, Marty!

[Marty drives through the parking lot, frantically trying to get it up to 88 miles per hour. After a loud flash, the DeLorean is covered in smoke. Marty opens the door to find that he is in the Twin Pines Mall parking lot.]

Cristina: Wait a minute, I'm still in 1985.

Doc: Yeah, I think Einstein's stopwatch got screwed up. He's been sitting here next to me, and now his watch is ten minutes ahead of mine. I'm afraid the time machine doesn't work.

Cristina: So what do we do about the picture?

Doc: Couldn't you just get Daniel to post a picture of you and Everett on his blog?

Cristina: Yeah, that's not a bad idea. Hey, what happened to the Tunisians?

Doc: Oh, my mistake. They were actually Algerians. They got duped into giving some uranium to a different scientist who was at the Lone Oaks Mall. Easy to get confused actually. I gave them directions. They couldn't have been nicer.

Cristina: Care to get a drink somewhere?

Doc: Sounds good, Marty. There's a bar nearby that has a smoking room.

Cristina: Well, I left my smoking jacket at home. Can I borrow yours?

Doc: Robes? Where we're going we don't need robes.

On Transmitting Likes to Children

Brandi was shooting a video of Everett in his Texas Rangers onesie this morning. She asked him why he likes the Rangers, and then she said, "Of course, we know you're going to be a Cardinals fan." For whatever reason, the idea of Everett becoming a Cardinals fan wasn't completely warm and fuzzy for me.

Lots of parents try to get their kids into the things they're into. But getting Everett to become a Cardinals fan seems like a stretch. My becoming a Cardinals fan is rooted in several things--the 1980s, Ozzie/Willie/Vince, AstroTurf--that don't apply anymore. Plus, we're not anywhere near St. Louis, and we have no plans to be. It would be more reasonable to expect him to be a Texas or A&M fan, since they're both local teams and can go to the games whenever we want.

My main question with Everett becoming a Cardinals fan, though, is not "how" but "why". The process of finding a favorite sports team is so much fun--why provide a shortcut just to push the process in the direction of your favorite team? There are lots of things, not just sports teams but cultural touchstones like Star Wars and Harry Potter, whose appeal is in large part a function of the time when we were exposed to them, plus a number of other factors we can't replicate in our kids. It seems like you should not want your children to like your favorite things but that you should want your children to like their own things as much as you like yours.

That being said, there's definitely an argument to be made for family favorites. The fact that my dad went to Dallas Cowboys games at the Cotton Bowl as a kid (and rode the Fair Park roller coaster during halftime) is a sufficient reason for me to follow them. The Cowboys, Aggies, Tar Heels, and Cardinals are a big deal to me because they're part of a shared family history, which is obviously important. Watching Jordan's shot in 1982 or Ozzie's home run in 1985 is, to me, a family moment because I was living with my family in those places when those moments happened. But so is seeing highlights of Roger Staubach or Don Meredith, even though they were playing before I was born. We follow certain teams together, we talk about them together, and it helps a lot to have those things that you can share with each other and even pass down.

So here's the conclusion I've reached. In terms of getting your children into the things that you're into, you should pass down exactly one favorite thing to your children. And that thing is The Beatles. (The rest will happen on its own, or not at all, both of which are okay.)

p.s. The Rangers onesie was a gift from one of my sales reps. My first week back at work after Everett was born was my group's yearly sales conference. The sales reps brought baby clothes representing their regions' sports teams--Texas Rangers, Oakland A's, Penn State Nittany Lions, Minnesota Vikings, and Ohio State Buckeyes (a Brutus Buckeye plush toy, actually). So Everett has worn clothes from four relatively random teams without yet having worn Cardinals, Aggies, or Longhorns gear. So I guess you could say I'm doing a good job of not indoctrinating him into my favorite sports teams. Or you could say that I'm doing a good job of indoctrinating him into sports in general.