USA Loses, Hockey Wins

Good morning Fackers. Well that was one hell of a heartbreaking loss yesterday no? Team USA looked like destiny's darlings when they tied it up with just 24 seconds to go, but Sidney Crosby's goal in OT gave the gold to the Canadians. Congratulations to Canada. They had an incredibly deep team and were under a tremendous amount of pressure to take gold on their home soil. Even in the disappointment of defeat, it was quite something to hear the entire arena sing O Canada as the Maple Leaf was raised over Canada Hockey Place.

As for the U.S., as tough as it is to come so close and take home silver, they should be very proud of what they did. Coming into the tournament they were considered a long shot to even reach the gold medal game. Instead, they rolled along and never even trailed at any point until Canada took a 1-0 lead yesterday afternoon. They were the youngest squad in the tournament, and it looks like this new batch of players will be worthy heirs to the Leetch-Richter-Chelios-Modano-Tkachuk-LeClair-Hull-et. al. group that set the bar so high through the 1996 World Cup and 2002 Olympics. That is of course unless the NHL pulls the plug on player participation in 2014 Games.

Even in defeat, Team USA earned honors. Goalie Ryan Miller was named Tournament MVP; Brian Rafalski earned top defenseman honors, and forward Zach Parise joined them on the all-tournament team.

Beyond that, we were treated to an outstanding two weeks of hockey that I hope will have impact that lasts beyond the heightened interest of the past several days. For all those who have made comments to the effect of "now I can stop caring about hockey for another four years", please realize that what we've witnessed over the past two weeks is not unique to the Olympics. The level of intensity shown throughout the Olympics is no different that what's on display for two full months each year during the NHL playoffs. The advent of widescreen televisions and HDTV has made hockey on television better than ever but it's no comparison to hockey in person. For my money, no sport is so markedly better in person than on TV than hockey. Do yourselves a favor and find out for yourselves.

And with that, I'll stop talking about hockey again and we'll get back to baseball. Spring Training games start Wednesday. Soon we'll have something resembling real baseball to talk about.

Photo credit: USA Today

Game 79: Blame Canada!

As America celebrates Independence Day weekend, the Yanks host Canada's team, the Toronto Blue Jays. On Wednesday, Canada celebrated Canada Day, marking their independence, also from Great Britain. Canada Day commemorates the British North American Act, passed by British Parliament in 1867, allowing Canada to be a sovereign nation.

So, for a little history recap, in 1775 the American Colonies go to war with Great Britain, declare their independence the following summer, and finish off the Brits in 1783. Meanwhile, our syrup sucking neighbors to the north, also under British rule since the conclusion of the French and Indian War in 1763, sit on their hands all the while, forcing our forefathers to turn to the French - the French of all people! - for military support against the mighty Brits.

After the American Revolution, just as it would for draft dodgers two hundred years later, Canada served as an asylum for American Colonists who had stayed loyal to Britain throughout the Revolution. In the War of 1812, Canada served as Britain's main staging area, and the U.S.-Canadian border was the war's main front.

Finally, in 1867, nearly one hundred years after our forefathers fought for American independence when they wanted it, Canada was given independence when the Brits were damn good and ready to let them have it. No wonder Claude Lemieux and Jason Bay have recently chosen to become American citizens.

So remember, Canada could have been in on the Great Experiment of a Democratic Republic right from the start. Instead they chose to remain British lap dogs for another hundred years.

Back to baseball. A.J. Burnett goes for the Yanks today. For the fourth straight start he'll oppose an organization to which he once belonged. He's been stellar in the last three, going 2-1, posting 0.44 ERA, and allowing just 20 baserunners in 20.1 IP while holding opponents to a .147 average. I'll take more of that today as the Yanks look to start a new winning streak. In one start against Toronto this year, Burnett gave up 5 ER in seven and two thirds, taking the loss.

Brian Tallet and his sweet stache get the ball for the Jays. He's at 5-5 on the year and has an ERA just below league average (96 ERA+). He took a no decision against the Yanks back on May 14th, allowing just two runs but walking five in six innings of work.

Jorge Posada is out of the lineup for the second straight day with a swollen thumb on his catching hand. The Cisco Kid gets what should be one of his final starts as Jose Molina continues his weekend rehab assignment with Scranton.

Enjoy the game. And why did the American Revolution take so long to complete? Blame Canada!



Blame Canada!
They're not even a real country anyway.

Youkalike

As we've alluded to recently, I've been traveling the past several days, hence my absence in these parts.

My excursion began Friday. A full day at work turned into a late night at the office as I rushed to make the final preparations for my trip. I caught a bit of the game on the radio and returned home just in time to see Alfredo Aceves get out of the jam Andy Pettitte's balky back had gotten into. I then promptly fell asleep. It would be the last Yankee baseball I would view live until last night.

Saturday saw me up at 6 AM to run errands, begin packing, make another trip to the office, etc. By late morning I was on the road to the belly of the beast - Boston - for the wedding of a former college roomate. In Boston with the Yankees in first place - it was like college all over again, unfortunately it's only late May.

Prior to the wedding, we pre-gamed at a bar in Newton. The Sox-Jays game was on, and there were a handful of fans watching at the bar, one of whom sported a Youk shirt, goatee, and a hat of Youk's alma-mater: the Cincinnati Bearcats. Unfortunatley I couldn't inconspicuously snap a picture before he left, so fack him too.

The wedding was a lot of fun. While not at all informal, the bride and groom were not overly serious about things, with the main focus being that everyone had a damn good time. There was an open bar to ensure that. Unfortunately for me, I had a flight to catch at 6:15 the next morning, so in a move that was antithetical to every fiber of my existence, I had to reign in my behavior at an open bar. My pride still hurts.

At the reception, I was seated at a table (the Pabst Blue Ribbon table) with all the old college buddies, including Gripp. You all may remember Gripp from the rip-roaring exchange we had here last week, which in the end, was tame compared to the emails we were trading. Thankfully, the topic of Yankee centerfielders was not broached, civility was maintained, and the reception wasn't ruined for anyone.

Perhaps taking a cue from the bride and groom, the atmosphere was rather loose at the PBR table. At one point I noticed that each of us had a potentially humorous butter plate at our place setting, so my artistic side took over:

Phallic butter balls and knives. Always a crowd pleaser. It ilicited a few good laughs at the table. Unfortunately, it happened during the toast. So, yeah, sorry about that.

The highlight of the reception however was the brother of the bride. He's a dead-ringer for a certain Red Sox first baseman, so of course, given our name here, I had to document it:


Sorry about the glare. And the low quality. Despite it being taken rather early on in the night, my photographer was already drunk. The picture doesn't really do it justice. You should have seen him with a Sox cap on during the bachelor party; it was uncanny. Thanks for being a good sport Ted.

From there, the band took the stage. Though perhaps not as entertaining as the wedding band in Old School, The B Street Band was great. Mostly Springsteen covers, with some other crowd pleasers thrown in for good measure. Except for when they played Sweet Caroline, I couldn't really complain.

The reception ran until 2:00 AM. I was in my room at 2:05. I packed and passed out by 2:30. My alarm went off at 3:30, I took a shower, got dressed, and hopped in a cab to Logan by 4:00. It cost me $220 for two hours in the hotel room. For that kind of hourly rate I could have retained a high end escort to accompany me to the wedding.

The rest of the day is a blur. I took off from Logan at 6:15, landing at JFK less than an hour later. After a layover, I hopped a plane to Toronto, landing around 11. Aside from a little a vacation to Puerto Rico, it was the first time I'd left the U.S. in 14 years, when I was 14 years old. On that trip I traveled as an unaccompanied minor on that trip, which meant the airline essentially held my hand each step of the way. Last year, I didn't need to bother with a passport or customs since Puerto Rico is a U.S. territory. So I had little to no clue what I was doing Sunday morning and I was doing it on no sleep to boot. But I must have faked it well; somehow I avoided an international incident.

From there, it was a walk through the airport where there were signs like "0.3% of all Canadian auto accidents involve a moose". Had I not been so out of it I would have snapped a picture. But I had to catch a cab, because the trade show I was attending actually started at 7:30 that morning.

I hustled to the hotel, got cleaned up, and managed to somehow work my company's booth for the remainder of the day. If business tanks this month, we may know why. Things finally wrapped up around 7:45. I scuttled across the street to the sports bar to grab a quick dinner.

As one of the 20 remaining NHL fans in the US, it was very cool to be in a Canadian sports bar watching the Stanley Cup Finals and have everyone there give a shit about it. Still, I could only manage to stay through the start of the second. I had to get some sleep.

The rest of the trip was pretty non-descript. Canada was like bizarro world: just like America, but not quite right. The tourism magazine in my room had an article on the Blue Jays. In it, they talked about the "centrefielder" Vernon Wells, how Alex Rios is a fan "favourite" amongst the ladies, and said the B.J. Ryan was once again healthy and deploying his "slingshot delivery". I don't which was most disorienting amongst the three.

Flipping through the stations at night, there was a lot of American TV on. I caught Conan's debut, not because I was particularly interested, but because I wanted to catch Pearl Jam's performance. There was also some British version of Law and Order on. Apparently the 15 different American versions of the show aren't enough. The one thing I wanted to watch, the Monday night Yankee-Indian game on ESPN, I couldn't because of a client dinner.

Even more torturous was being right around the corner from the Hockey Hall of Fame, but unable to go. The days are unbearably long at these shows, 7 AM to at least 5 PM, with networking and glad-handing to follow. And the Hall, being housed in a former bank, keeps banker's hours, closing at like 5:30 daily. Stupid Canadian metric time.

I had wanted to stay through Tuesday. My best friend from home has business in Toronto and he was flying in Tuesday afternoon. We made plans to go to the Jays game that night, to watch the fake umps, and more importantly, to watch the insanely hot waitresses in the seats behind the plate. Unfortunately for me, Delta wanted $800, or twice the cost of my round trip ticket, to make the change, so that wasn't happening. So fuck you Delta, no wonder your whole industry is barely staying alive. Oh and to add insult to injury, Doc Halladay spun a gem Tuesday, going the distance and whiffing 14.

In the end it was just as well. Staying only would have kept me in Canada for another day. I'm not trying to disparage our neighbors to the north, but I realize why my ancestors left there many generations ago. I like my country. So how was I welcomed back? The U.S. customs agent was a total dick to me. Then in the security line, I was chosen at random for the "physical search". Thankfully no cavities were involved. So I got to stand there in front of God and everyone while one guy wearing a turban wanded the metal detector over me and two guys speaking broken English patted me down and questioned me. These are U.S. agents mind you. At the risk of sounding like the Ugly American, I found a bit of irony in all of it.

After another detour through JFK I wound up back at Logan where some friends were nice enough to pick me up - and then let me use their wireless to do Tuesday's recap. Worn out from my whirlwind North American tour, I spent the night in Boston and finally returned home yesterday. I'm glad to be back.

In the end, it's not the most exciting trip recap. But at least we have some filler to hold us over until game time. See you shortly.

The Maritimes [Music] [Non-Sports]

Stumbling upon the above gentleman's music was a total fluke. I found it when was downloading an album by Tash I actually purchased when I was a junior in high school and used to listen to with my boy Calvin driving around after school in Albany. My BitTorrent site has what they call "Similar Artist Maps", which are incredibly useful for finding music similar to other stuff you like.

Here is Eric Clapton's:

Pretty logical, right? It connects him to his side projects like Derek and the Dominoes, Cream and Blind Faith, people he's collaborated with such as B.B. King and Derek Trucks, and also similar guitarists like Stevie Ray Vaughan.

Now take a look at Tash's:

Tash was a member of The [sic] (should be "Tha") Alkaholiks, and DJ Revolution did some of the tracks on their later albums. The fact that he is linked with Classified is either a small sample size glitch or a very clever joke.

Rico Smith a.k.a Catastrophe (Tash) is a black dude from the West Coast of the U.S. and Classified is a white dude from the East Coast of Canada. They couldn't be further apart geographically or stylistically. But I like them both, so maybe the site is just that good.

The thing that is really awesome about Classified's music is that it's blissfully unselfconscious. He raps about being from Nova Scotia and says "oot" and "aboot" in his rhymes. If for nothing other than the unintentional comedy of a Canadian rapper who actually sounds Canadian, give the song below a listen. He's opened for Ludacris, Busta Rhymes and The Game, so he's got some real skills as well.

He forced his way up through the ranks of the underground rap scene, doing all of his own recording and producing on his own dime before signing a deal with URBNET Records in 2004.

"The Maritimes" is a genuine and aboveboard tribute to his home territory, framed by an underlying track of bagpipes.

I'm from the East Coast of Canada, home of the bag pipe,
Known for the fiddle players, beer and our keg price,
Known for Alexander Keith's and the Donair,
Home of the Mooseheads, but I don't really go there,
We pay a buck for a litre of gas (and)
Smokes cost $10 a pack (damn)
We always mix our tobacco with weed,
It's just the way, we always done it, shit is natural to me...

Respect.