Clean Slate

He can't see, he can't hear.

Uncoachable.

20(!!) years ago on a back field at Osseo High School, right next to the tin shack of a hockey arena that was reeciving a much needed face lift and second rink, there's a worn down baseball diamond.  The backstop is littered with uncut follage, the fence curls upward in places allowing passed balls to become free bases, the outfield is sparcely cut and has no fence allowing home runs to become very long doubles, and the pitching rubber slightly tilted upwards to remind the hurler to mind his delivery or be prepared to eat some gravel along with a chorus of heckling.

A tall, skinny sophomore who never played on the teams with button down jerseys, matching pants and stirups, or freshly polished shoes walked across the long stretch between the high school and this long forgotten place of play.  The benches were no more than a plank of warped wood on the open field, unsheltered from the errant foul tip.  But, Mr. Darby Carlson sat there waiting to begin choosing who would work their way from this blight to the concrete dugouts of the varsity field located right next to the gym exit.

"If it doesn't happen, I can hang up my glove for good"

Years of tears, disappointments, road trips, tubes of icy-hot all for a shot to make a school team which carried the weight of several recent state tournament appearances and players going off to play for college teams.  And here was the last chance as Darby had no thoughts of nepotism, no parental handshakes for their sons to walk on the team, no worries about pieces of plastic in my ears, a clean evaluation for the first time.

I wasn't the most gifted athlete, hell at best I was average.  But, good enough to wear a varsity letter my senior year because of honest coaches who saw that I had a talent of plunking batters throwing hard enough and working hard enough to pitch for this team three years prior.  A ray of hope that there are somethings you CAN work hard for and get paid off.

My naiveness of the current online poker situation is a mix of assuming too much and not knowing enough.  As I took the family last night to a local bar called J. Cousineau's, a long-time supporter of my days before responsibility, the cajun chicken sandwich and seasoned fries were unmarkable but decent bar food as the waiter certainly exceeded expectations and was very friendly and genuine. 

Surrounded by jerseys of Dino Ciccarelli, John Randle, and a flag from Bushwood Country Club signed by I'm assuming Carl Spackler right after his miraclous cinderella man shot, was a TV showing a different set of programming than the Yankees/White Sox tilt shown on the other ten sets.  TVG.com was playing as the 5th at Turf Paradise was calling the horses to the gate.  Listed below were the odds from the nine's 5/2 all the way up to the four horse's 85/1 (sired by Mr. Otis perhaps?).  OTBs are not legal in Minnesota, but holding a phone with internet capabilities for the first time, if I wanted to plunk a few dollars down on a horse that will likely fall before the announcer gets the word "OFF!" out of the microphone, I could.

Why could I wager here, but not on something with much better odds AND knowing I hold an edge?  If I'm faster, throw harder, work harder, why don't I get the spot on the team?  If I'm more knowledgable, better personality, have more drive to succeed why don't I get the job.

Naive.

World doesn't work that way dumbass. 

The difference between what should be and what is, is called life.  Deal with it, or get run over.  Finally after several years of tryout disappointments, the lanky kid who walked off that field with the tattered hand-me-downs of the varisty jersey package worn three years ago, including a turtleneck that was a better fit for the arctic circle, found a place on the sophomore team and finally realized what is, is, what didn't happen you can't control so after a good cry, its time to move on.

Finally the lesson sunk in after the favorite crossed the line and my kids were asking about a summer trip to Canterbury Park, and some friends with their heads on much straighter than my own via Twitter explained the gray parts of the online poker proceedings. 

The fight for online poker in the US isn't about who did what, or "freedoms", nor is it about what is right.  Its PR, its American Idol where phone-in votes count (some more than others), its about money and globs of it, high enough for Scrooge McDuck to make a second swimming pool vault.

It's about opportunity, selling the right idea to the right person at the right time.  Just like I managed to finally sneak onto the team from years of playing behind a wall of favorites, I managed to take advantage of the situation.  Will online poker advocates do the same?

Steps in Parenting: Smiles

Busy much?

Busy.

While personally I consider myself further outside the World Series of Poker than Pokerati, seeing that I do my "reporting" without pants and nor to I subject myself to the air conditioned Amazon room for 18 hours a day, I am no less rushed as the circus of cards parades in Las Vegas.

But, there are two little ones at home that don't get to see all the spreadsheets, inane meetings about planning a meeting, or the four a.m. Monday morning deadlines for that third job you picked up to stay fresh with work that you actually enjoy doing.  They are not privy to the corporate ladder, traffic jams, or why mommy and daddy could really use a drink after a day at the zoo.  Lately a sense of growing-up as a parent has been trickling in-between the late-night study sessions, subbing for softball games that have been "forced" to go to (batting a clean 1.000 in four games with 17 hits thank you very much) since speaking to nothing but Microsoft Excel and degenerate poker players could render a human into a ball of doing nothing but charting out historical data on lime tossing bets 24 hours a day.

Kids get to see daddy laying on the ground as a perfect opportunity to pounce, to question, to use as a pillow.  They don't care about the two hours of sleep a night for the past four days, and nor should they, because work and play for a parent has the kids in mind first.  Sure the hard-working bread winners need to kick back on a side porch with nothing but a microbrew hitting the back their throats, as I will be in two days since my plans to see a group of friends in Vegas has officially fallen thru thanks to airlines who wish to charge the equivilent of a black market healthy liver for a short flight to the nation's capital on sin.

That's in two days, yesterday yet another step in parenting took place in my poor excuse for a backyard.  I think landscaping companies check out Google Earth and see my dirt lined yard, drooling at the prospect of trees that need to be uprooted and infinite rows of sod to lay.  It was in the patch of grass that my son stood in a batter's ready position with the newly erected ball trampoline behind him to act as a surrogate catcher since his mother was pitching and I took to the field to play all seven positions behind her. 

That's when I saw it.

The smile.

It came briefly after a hard liner nearly headed deep into the trees that separate our land from a pond and some townhouses.  Then came back with every swing hit or air.  If you want an example of such a smile, and perhaps a perfect frame of one, look no further than Speaker's AJ in the bottom of this post. You can read the words too, I hear he puts together words in a readable manner (THATS INTERNET SARCASM), really read the post then enjoy the smile.

Parents know that there is one reason you go through the arguments of cleaning up the playroom, blood pressure raising rants about changing their mind after ordering food, and the endless shuttles to a new activity.  It's that smile.  Some parents think throwing toys, movie, and amusement parks in their faces will allow their lips to curl upwards.  True, it will but I akin that to a rub and tug versus real sex with another human that you've known for awhile.  It's a fake-ish smile so to speak, the genuine grin comes out after a sense of accomplishment, like yesterday when Wyatt's fluid swing started connecting or after he came in the house and instead of going thru a Tom Emanski video worth of things he could improve on I geuninely praised him on the fact he was moving towards the ball, reach out with his glove, and moving the bat in more than one linear motion thru the box.

The next game is tomorrow, and a different father along with a different son will show up to have a different outlook on the same field in my parent's backyard that I grew up on wearing jersey #9 with B & M Video layed across the front of it.  And both of us will have that smile regardless of balls dropped or being told to take a seat after so many swings because it isn't about becoming the next Bryce Harper or Stephen Strasberg it's about smiling and enjoying the little time you get to spend with each other.

Smells Like Baseball Season

The softened baseballs came out of the much worn equipment sack yesterday.  On a white metal hanger hung the number 3 with my last name on it.  After fitting his purple hat with the city's name and logo on it, my son took the field for the first time this year.  Cub baseball is the buffer between the tikes running the wrong way after hitting a ball from a tee and the groaning of watching the coach's son walk 15 batters in a row while proud papa keeps encouraging him to hold the ball like an egg and breathe thru his eye lids.  The coach seemed confident and knowledgable, especially since he'd taken his 12 year old son's team to state championship and a tournament win in Iowa the past year.

It's my hope my son decides to listen to the guy and pick up the game that carried my stick figure-self thru some tough times growing up.  He's not the best nor the worst on the team, but definitely needs an upgrade from the plastic glove obtained three years ago from nana and pa. 

Half way thru the practice, just as my wife arrived, my daughter expressed a need for a bathroom break.  Luckily my parent's home is right behind the practice field and with a dash made the stop with time to spare.  After picking some "flowers" on the return trip she bounced back to the mini playground aside from the barren ice rink and elementary school.  The son was dilgently learning the alligator method of covering up grounders while his partner decided to give his best impression of Mitch "Wild Thing" Williams and throw the ball in every direction that was only catchable by Ozzie Smith. 

"Dave, I think you better check on YOUR daughter" said the wife.

I was enjoying the move in practice where my son got to line a few hits as his offense is much better then the glove work, but as I turned towards my princess squating under the metal bleachers, much like McD watching Teddy turn over those aces, I knew what had happened.  Crying, and a very long walk ensued to clean up what could only be described as taco meat in her Dora underwear that had been left out for two weeks in the sun.  After six years of this why my brain clicked on this song is beyond me:




Aside from the accident, baseball season looks to be a good one this year.  But, hockey is still being played and Mr. Alex Ovechkin if I may have a word about your epic choke job.  Karma is a bitch.

Quick Hits: The Favre Loyality Edition

Quick hits:

I wish I'd found this video before the Packers-Vikes game last week:



Leroy Butler, Kallie Wong, Touchdown Tommy Kramer jerseys? Not on the bandwagon, these people love their teams and kudos for the funny.


- The World Series is over.



That's the sound outside of New York and their fair-weather fans that spread like H1N1 across the country. The Yankees wins their 27th World Series and it feels like Daniel Negreanu just won two buy ins at the PokerStars $0.01/$0.02 tables. This slight does not apply to those for faithfully rooted on their teams during years that they didn't spend over $200 quadrillion dollars to pluck every available superstar off other teams.

Mike and Mike this morning posed a question to a baseball talking head "teamwork" got the Yankees their championship last night. And the bobblehead agreed that's what is was. Bullshit. For all we know the Washington Nationals were the most cohesive team but lacked the bucks to surround true company men like the Yanks did with Posada, Jeter, Mo Rivera (what a monster!), and Cano.

When asked by Ms. Dawn Summers what to think about the dude with the Yankees cap at her poker table, I quipped "he'll probably try to buy every pot".

So congrats on bullying the table sirs, maybe next year you'll just hand out Yankees uniforms to the AL team with bricks of cash at the All-Star game and finish the season with them.

- For the past two weeks I've played a little more poker than I have in probably 6 months time. No idea what brought on the spurt but I played enough to gain SilverStar status at Stars and almost have enough FTPs at Full Tilt for that Mini Cooper. Ok, a camera but its about the size of a Mini Cooper if you were to look at the car from 5 blocks away.

Some takeaways. Instead of "bonus whores" you now run into "points whores". For example there's a Supernova on the tables I frequently play (lower stakes than a player of this status should be playing) who will complain to no end if he/she is not receiving points at the end of each hand (its based on rake, sometimes the pot isn't big enough to rake for a FPP).

Here's a hint sir or ma'am: No one cares. Because here's your playing line for every hand you play: AAXX (Shove stack preflop), Any ace with two wheel cards (limp), Any combination of all broadway cards (limp), all else pot odds be damned, fold. Post flop, you hit you bet, you miss you fold to any bet, no check-raises, no flatting, no floating. Also, NEVER betting without either the current nuts or a wrap draw to said nuts.

Why would I continue to play such tables? There's never a shortage of people who will call or people have a clue and fold button. It might seem pompus to describe this sort of play as I'm prone to bad calls just as much (you'd think I'd learn by now!), as I'll find my fingers clicking call once in a while against one of these super-nits knowing full well my full house/lesser flush is no good.

That makes me an even bigger donk and a leak that needs to be plugged should I continue this 6-8 tabling across two platforms like its 2006. We'll see if the action junkie in me finds its way to the tables after the missus and kids are tucked away for the evening. Despite losing for the past few weeks I've found the challenge to play again fun and with good friends heading off to Vegas today and tomorrow to set up for the WSOP Main Event final table, my poker interest will only heighten from here. Not to mention seeing said friend in a mere five weeks.

Case in point, I finally sat down to watch an entire episode of the WSOP Main Event on ESPN the other night. Pauly nailed the Darvin Gump moniker in his recent recap. I could visualize the logger going over to his wife on the rail after that unexplainable flush over flush hand against Billy Kopp saying "aw shucks Jen-nay I thinks we's gonna win some money".

Play catch up to the TV coverage with the doc's recaps below:

Main Event Day 8 on ESPN - Liquidity Crisis, Mucking Winners, and Down to 18
Main Event Day 7 on ESPN - Donkeys in the Rye
Main Event Day 6.5 on ESPN - Four Heavy Hitters, Jaws of Ivey, and AngryJulie
Main Event Day 5.5 and Day 6 on ESPN - Introducing the DonkeyBomber
Main Event Day 5 on ESPN - ElkY and Happy
Main Event Day 4 on ESPN - Bubbles and the World Series of Ivey
Main Event Day 3 on ESPN - Aussies, Ivey, and No Shake for Hellmuth
Main Event Day 2B on ESPN - A Kinder and Quieter Hellmuth and the Always Aloof Ivey Time
Main Event Day 2A on ESPN - The Fossilman and Costanza Show

Good luck to all making their ways back to Vegas this weekend.

* and sorry if I missed linking you

Out At The Plate

Mike Shanahan apparently is getting seven million to shut up about the disaster that is the Denver Broncos.

Wow.

Think the Twins would hand over 1% of that for me after the disaster last night?

Luckily I was in bed watching something called "Kirby" with my son at 7:30pm in effort to pass out from a lack of sleep thus missing my softball game and of course having to watch the Twins vs. A's game be the headliner on Sportscenter which ran the entire course of my Raisin Bran Crunch and breakfast sandwich starter meal.

In the course of this six-sigma loss, it even had to end with Cuddy getting the shaft from the ump at home where ESPN and their magicial camera angles couldn't find one solidary viewpoint that would cause the man in black to think he was out.

Granted the game should never have come to that point as the bullpen should have preserved the win far beyond needing that run in the ninth but how does Gardy not loss his shit when interviewed after the game? Personally I would have rather have seen a tossed bat at the media or some Ozzie Gullen-esque antics to wake up this talented team that seemed to have gotten a case of the who cares after two tough losses in a row (if I were a betting man, money on the A's tonight would be a decent bet regardless of who's throwing).

Wrong on many levels yet still going to fork over some poker dollars by the end of the season to bring Wyatt to a game just for a father/son type thing and hopefully not have to sit thru the purid pitching shown last night.

Turning a double play

Poker news:

YMCA and KFAN are teaming up for a charity poker tournament at St. Croix Hotel and Casino this Saturday (June 20th) at 2:00pm. For the low-low price of $100 ($70 tax deductable) you can get to take on fellow KFAN Rubes as well as radio personalities (my guess is Cory Cove aka Sludge from my favorite morning show "The Power Trip" will be there). Check out the link here for more details as well as pre-registration for the event.

I'd be all over this but my wife had something else planned with good friends. An afternoon at Canterbury Park without the kids will have to do :) Horse racing and cards are activities readily approved by the author here and I'm guessing a Lennie's Honey Weiss or six will find their way into my hands. While we'll miss the weiner dog races on Father's Day, but there's nothing like rooting on a 11-1 shot on the rail versus having to watch a simulcast.

Related story to my adventures below Baseball talk:

Former Cubbie Sammy Sosa took PEDs. My reaction? *yawn*.

This continued leak of information that was supposed to be sealed should get more attention. If a record is sealed or expunged the person taking the test or on the receiving end of a punishment due to bad judgement about bringing a bottle of Popov vodka in a dormatory room under aged and not using his head that the older looking "kids" are actually undercover cops, shouldn't have to worry about such things as that coming back to haunt them.

Unless of course one were stupid enough to write about it in a blog post, luckily we don't have such lack of intelligence around these parts.

Yes, A-Rod and Sosa, though scummy enough to deny all the allegations for five/six years, deserved the shield of protection they signed up for when the initial testing took place in 2003. And the Hall of Fame ballot in 2013 might contain the most difficult choices:

Sandy Alomar Jr., Tony Batista (HAHAHAHA), Craig Biggio, Barry Bonds, Jeff Cirillo, Royce Clayton, Roger Clemens, Jeff Conine, Steve Finley, Julio Franco, Shawn Green, Roberto Hernandez, Ryan Klesko, Mike Lieberthal, Kenny Lofton, Jose Mesa, Damian Miller, Eric Milton, Russ Ortiz, Mike Piazza, Reggie Sanders, Curt Schilling, Aaron Sele, Sammy Sosa, Mike Stanton, Jose Valentin, Todd Walker, David Wells, Rondell White (HAHAHAHA), Bob Wickman, Woody Williams

The laughter is for the Twins picking up those two in their gray years for ineptitude unseen since I took the hill versus Cold Springs in 1993 and managed to give up a game-winning home run to the number nine batter.

Only three non-juiced players I see have a better than average shot. Craig Biggio should be a lock, Mike Piazza's vagina lost votes didn't charge Clemens after getting a bat thrown at him but one of the best catchers in the game should warrant a nod, and Curt Schilling's bloody sock should squeeze in based on his rings and K's, not his blog. Bonds, my former idol Clemens, and Sosa will face the purists wall of old sportwriters that remember 5 cent packs of Pall Malls and Budweiser while Pee Wee Reese ruled shortstop.

Whoa, didn't mean for the tangent to go so far.

Forgot how much I miss the game and being a fan sometimes while the everlasting hussle of being a parent is going on. With hope there will be a game for my son and daughter to enjoy while in the new open air Target Field or my current favorite is catching a St. Paul Saints game at Midway and tailgating while the rustle of a freight train going by every 30 minutes.

Tomorrow, maybe the next day country bars, beer gardens, ass grabbing, and rooftop Wrigley views. Not in that order as all were equally fun last weekend. Who doesn't like chatting about NYC bar room brawls with a tat'd up ex-con and the sexual mindset of married women with a bachlorette party at 2am with a live band cranking out Fishing in the Dark while holding a clear Solo cup full of beer.

I know I do.

Yes, the hick vibe was thick at that bar and it reminded me of dozens of places you could find lined up in Northern Minnesota minus a lake record-setting small mouth bass hanging on the wall, but wow what a way to cap off another great weekend in Chicago with friends.

More tomorrow.

Friday Flops

Quick hits:

Minnesota Wild fire their GM/President Doug Risebrough.

After years of horrible management of draft picks (hey at least its in line with the rest of Minnesota professional sports!), good decision by the Wild. But, with the loss of Lemaire behind the bench and most likely Gabby this "Team of 18,000" is going to have a tough time pulling in folks to the X to pay for $9 beers and $15 wings without recognizable names or a decent team.

Its still hockey at its highest level, and we are a hockey-rabid state but it will be tough to cheer on a team with aspirations on grabbing the eight seed for the playoffs each year.

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Madden gone.

Who's going to hand out the turducken to random Detroit Lions players that only the Nardi Brothers could name and write neon yellow circles around tight ends and go off on a lineman tangent for five minutes while the team your cheering on drives for a game-tying touchdown and Al Michaels is forced to break Madden's train of thought to announce T-Jack's wounded duck somehow was grabbed by a player wearing the same jersey color as him by waving a tube of Tough Actin' Tinactin in front of his face.

Some announcers should (and did) work until their death: Herb Carneal, Harry Kalas, Vin Scully, Howard Cosell, Jim McKay, (add your regional long time voice of baseball here).

Madden should have given it up after this first video game came out and let Keith Jackson do double time working college football and NFL.

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A question for the masses since last night I did not play my usual round of low-stakes tourneys since I enjoy being employed and working a rare Friday (instead dusted off a buy-in to someone who couldn't let go of top pair in PLO when I missed):

If you could go back to your 18,19,20, 21 year old self and give yourself one piece of advice that's non-financially driven (Buy Microsoft! Sell Enron! The numbers of the Powerball are 9, 19, 20, 37, 45, and 5) what would it be?

Hearing Is Believing

Vegas made have its Elvis weddings, Chapel of the Bells, or pick any casino up and down the strip (found at Vegas.com).

But, if you want to feel what your marriage is going to be like in a literal sense, you come to Minnesota and shop at Ikea for that perfect $59.99 end table with the unpronouceable name, hit up one of the many jewelry stores in the Mall of a America, after crossing home plate from the old Met, ride a roller coaster while taking your vows to abstain from sex have many lovingly years in each others arms.

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It has been over a month now with my new bionic ears and the dividends are still paying off daily as they will slowly meld into regular life soon enough. It's a still wonderment that insurance companies turn a deaf ear (DO YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE?!?!) on assisting people who pay premiums at their respective companies for purchasing hearing aids.

A quick Google (when are you going to allow my site back into your queue?) search for hearing aid insurance brings up websites that should how insurance turn their backs on those with hearing losses despite people like myself who's lives are vastly improved by wearing them. It's a state-by-state lotto in which the state's assure hearing aid coverage, but mostly for children. While my wife made be able to argue in front of a nine person actuarial panel my penchant for being a Toys R' Kid, my drivers license still allows me to fly to Vegas and make an ass out of myself while berating the two seat for calling me down with a gutter-ball straight draw on a flush board while I hold top two pair.

Health insurance should be just that. Improvement on health. After getting these wonderful devices I can now understand people at work without having them go into their tape recorders and rewind every message before their triple lattes from the Starbucks kiosk. Rushing downstairs to grab the wife and decipher my daughter's pleas at 5:00am as I wake her up are no longer necessary. Thanks to this, she actually knowledges me on occassion with more hugs and is willing to sit down to talk rather then me resorting to imperfect lip reading.

My son's voice and temperment have lowered since I don't speak as loudly anymore. We get to share more about his media center day and getting thru the rigors of Kindergarten without having to "take-a-break" (that's time-out for you naughty adults who's names were written on the board with little check marks growing up).

I've even seen a softer side of my wife since her pet peeve is having to repeat things (how we ever got thru nearly nine years of marriage before this without her placing a shotgun to my head is beyond me).

Most likely if you're reading this you know me personally or have at least had the pleasure of taking my money at the poker tables, but for those who don't, know that this gift of hearing will be a recurring theme here as what once felt like a lost cause between living, my spouse, and my kids now gets a new chance to meet each other and possibly learn to grow off one and another.

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My slacking baseball fandom line of seeing the Twinkies in action this year is abysmal. If my viewing was a box-score it would look like this:

AB: 4

1B: 1

2B: 0

3B: 0

HR: 0 (HA! Like they hit any home runs)

SB: 0

SAC: 0

BB: 1

IP: 2/3

H: 1

BB: 0

K: 1

Watched the Twins bat last night (two on, no outs for Nicky Punto to send a co-ed softball-ish routine fly ball to center field and kill any rally while down 10-2 to the Blue Jays), then part of an inning where someone threw a knuckleball. First Twin I've seen throw one since Joe Niekro if I'm not mistaken.

A plea to FSN. I rarely look at channels that are non-HD as the TV snobbery is high, please stop being so cheap and broadcast those games on the HD channel so I know when they're on.

HORSE-ing Around

Wisconsin. Live like you mean it!

Shouldn't the state slogan be: Drink like you mean it!

I'm sure StB would agree.

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Bombed the Skillz game horribly. Won a PLO8 SnG to cover all St. Patty's Day amateur night antics. Enjoyed the contortions of Japan's and Korea's picture go into to release a baseball (Darvish will be the next Dice-K, note it early and often).

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Sounds of the week: Was able to hear my daughter's explaination of how her flower bed sheets are far superior to Wyatt's Optimius Prime laden ones. She didn't have to repeat it three times, no frustration out of both us at 5am, end result was a toddler being calm enough to get re-tucked in thirty minutes later and going back to sleep.

More of this please.

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In light of the upcoming trek to Las Vegas, I'm sending a call to any of you who have visited that city. Anyone?

No?

Ok, IF you would go to such a place and couldn't run around collecting stripper dust, hangovers, and gambling markers and wanted to do Vegas-lite do you have any suggestions?

Here's the list the spouse and I thought of barring Rhino or Olympic Gardens having a tucked away short-term day care center (for the single moms on stage!):

Bellagio-conservatory and fountains

Caesars-fountain show

Fremont street experience

M & M World/Game works

Mirage- volcano, secret gardens and dolphin habitat

Flamingo- wildlife habitat

Sirens of TI

MGM lion habitat

Circus Circus- circus acts

Marriage: Its What's For Dinner

Ying to the Yang. Opposites attract and you know it.

People marry for different reasons, she looked hot in the bright yellow bikini with green lacing, he made a bundle on Microsoft and sold at the right time so I can take in Dr. Phil’s advice daily while sitting in an Aruba penthouse suite, or because he/she completed me.

If someone took notice of my eight point five years of marriage to my wife and asked what the secret to a lasting marriage, I would scoff and kindly tell them to check with her as to why she hasn’t changed the locks yet. Our marriage is not one of Harlequin romance novels with cover showing the stallion of a man sporting a perfect six-pack on his stomach not in his hands swooning over the tatterly dressed shapely female. Its balancing patience for each other’s quirks, giving in here, but not there, its making sure there’s no doubt that if one falls the other is there to catch. Not a stretch considering the road conditions this morning were better fit for dog sleds then overpriced SUVs.

Even with that knowledge the best I can hope for is by the end of the day we’re talking to each other versus blowing up over who changed Kyra’s shitty underwear more times throughout the day (she won 4-2 yesterday, with a double dose right before bed time, this is going to make for some awkward dates in the future, maybe she’ll marry a German Poop porn collector who’s into that sort of thing). I, for the record, will never “get it”, one of these days I’ll understand just to give into the flow instead of turning over to stare at a the lime green clock showing a two for the first digit. Each day I give a little more into this union and stop the relentless pursuit of perfection where every day we have perfect simultaneous multiple orgasms before work, a tower of thick-cut hickory-smoked bacon waiting in the breakfast nook, kids happily climbing into their winter jackets, work flying by with text messages as to which chandelier we’ll swing from tonight, the perfect steak dinner while the kids sit attentively and tell us all about sledding with nana and pa, then topping of the night with Cristal and moves that would make half the actresses in Flipchip’s AVN photos blush.

Instead, I’m more inclined to shoot for a day that doesn’t suck. A smile, a slow peck on the lips, conversations that don’t end with “you’re an idiot”, a hug from two little ones, a steady paycheck, decent eats on the table, and getting my ass kicked in every word game put out on Facebook. Seriously, go look at my record on Scramble, I get beat more then some New York City tomato can that could have been a contender if his left hook hit harder then a two month old Burmese kitten.

Like Kid Icarus who flew too close to the sun only to crash and burn those wax wings, my take on this union of marriage is the same to stop fantasizing about perfection and work on contentment with a hint of daily improvement. Somewhere there’s a balance between Vegas-filled fantasy nights and sitting in front of must-see-TV learning about The O.C.’s likes and dislikes, giving up doing Black Belt Sudoku puzzles on the sunken couch while knitting an afghan.

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I’m cooking up a poker post for Al’s place of employment over at Poker From the Rail sponsored by Full Tilt. There’s a bunch of words in my head but no direction which is pretty standard, once the outlines pops in, head out to check it out especially now with the FTOPS MCXXIII going on.

In other poker-y news, a question for those who go deep in big MTTs… if you’re a “recognizable” player as railbirds flock to be amazed of your ability to win coinflips, 2nd in chips with 19 left, six figures for first, and the chip leader is sitting at your table and has shown the inability to fold the Letter “A” regardless of board. Why would you attempt some elaborate call flop, check-raise all-in turn float for your nearly triple par stack (to non-poker player readers, my apologies for the poker lingo ass-plosion there)?

I'm sure there was a reason beyond my feeble knowledge of the game and lack luster results but being a semi-student of the game it seemed odd.

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A-Rod.

Why bring this up six years later?

The fans are finally starting to cheer again, I for one flicked it on Kerry Wood’s 20K game on the new MLB cable station when DP pointed it out and enjoyed watching guys like Biggio play the game with some grit and remembered why I was a fan.

Shit like this kills the average one to two games at the stadium a year fans. Stop it. It was before the policies were in place. What does shining the light on this do besides put your most recognized active player in bed with disgraced all-stars like Bonds and Clemens?

Did Bud Selig take an overdose of stupid with his bran muffin and $17 million contract?

My Prediction is: Human

Love these people who are "willingly" giving up McDonald's Monopoly pieces for a share of the winnings if someone has a "rare" piece (are there people this dumb?) which carry the same odds of a car in downtown Phildelphia not catching fire or having a caved in roof from phinatics dancing on top of them tonight.

Congrats on being this year's World Champs, Phillies. You may be the losingest team in the history of baseball, but not tonight.

I see that this guy and this woman found some time to do this (not a Rick Roll or prOn link you perverts). Godspeed to you both, may the journey be filled with loving sighs and quiet snuggles in the rocking chair more often then the "again?!?! what #!#$!$@ time is it?!?!?!".

Being degenerate gamblers, shall we start up a betting pool on the sex?

The line was set by Covers.com found on USAToday.com

Male: +120

Female: -150

Liver Still Processing

I couldn’t get on the bandwagon. They lost way too many games down the stretch (despite sweeping the Sox in the second to last series). I hated the fact the Sox got a home game despite the Twins winning the season series 9-7. To be honest, I got chills when Braun smashed that home run sending the Brew Crew into the playoff despite being a die-hard Twins fan, I’m a baseball fan first and the Twins just seemed to give up in August-September and played uninspired ball causing a cloak of apathy to be laid over several fans, myself included.

Next time show that spunky play (including last night) during whole season instead in spurts and Twins fans will be behind their team.

In other sports news, Al Davis needs to don a head wrap or find his precious should he feel the need to fire another coach and call a press conference. I almost heaved my Fruity Pebbles this morning while enjoying Sportscenter.

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Poker.

Pirate Lawyer got me to play my first blogger tourney in almost a month playing H.O.R.S.E.

Played one Stud H/L hand poorly, exited for bed eager to turn off Ozzie Guillen’s gloating.

Might find me playing more often online, as frost tickled the lawn this morning. October 1st is the first day of winter in Minnesota, the igloo is ready for the remaining six months of snow, sleet, and sub-human temps.

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Random Bash rambling…

This is easier then mashing together three days friendship and alcoholic bliss so I'll throw up (literally) some random pieces (chunks?) of the weekend.

The first day found me sitting across from Buddy Dank at the swanky Marriott airport bar after figuring out the rat maze of Philly International’s skyways. The burger $15.00, the drinks $8-$10 a piece, the chat fueled the weekend as Dank wasn’t even supposed to be here. Pure degeneracy to hop on a plane to the middle of nowhere with no logistics plan, ending up eating overpriced (but damn good) charred animal and fries with more to come later on.

Otis and Badblood would trickle in from G-Vegas as they insisted we take the Philly to Canada to Phoenixville route since missing out on the landscape of the Northeast would be detrimental to the theme of the weekend. The song being played for Friday and Saturday was to party without a care for what happened tomorrow or even the next hour. My smile began after seeing the big haired Dank walking down the terminal B skyway and didn’t leave until my last freshly baked cookie was finished on the Philly to Milwaukee flight on Sunday afternoon.

After grabbing some duty-free hookers and blow from the border, Otis and Badblood checked into the “hotel” (which was the loosest definition of such a business) as me and Dank walked towards the doors of the James Tyler Bar in Phoenixville to meet a man about a drink.

As always that man did not disappoint.

Possibly tomorrow:

- “Three Canadians and a Minnesotan get into a car...”

- Poker was played while women laughed

- More Packers (**shudder**) gear acquired but gladly accepted (go see Doc's take on the weekend, the man puts some great words and letters in the correct order)

- Is there hope for Team Otis at the Pub Olympics or will a breathalyzer DQ Team Al's all-star lineup?

The Killer and Carew

Last night was part parking lot carnival, part day care center during lunch time. The mall in front the Metrodome was transformed into a walkway of overpriced beers and fried foods, along with the only place on earth where its socially acceptable to wear your favorite team logo on more then three items of clothing (unfortunately no Twins logo’d G-strings were spoted).

How could such a crowd afford these gatherings on a regular basis? The beers were $6.50, a Mike’s Hard Lemonade for the wife was $7.75 (ouch), bottle of Sprite for the kids set us back four bucks. Throw in some mini-donuts and tepid cheese curds (if it doesn’t squeak, it ain’t real) and we blew thirty bucks before even stepping into upside down vanilla frosting topped bundt cake stadium.

While watching the Tiggers get demolished by the resurgent Twinkies, there was a re-found love of watching live major league baseball. There’s no description about a 92 mph heater smacking the leather bound pillow of a catcher’s mitt after the overpaid free agent third baseman whiffed like he just got denied at the hotel bar after the game by the words “you don’t make as much as him” pointing to his Cy Young award winning teammate with the Cheshire Cat sized smile.

Even if the team wasn’t winning or putting out a product that stank of two week old Japanese steakhouse sauce that was left out, a love for the game I used to play was renewed and new found respect for guys like Aaron Gleeman who cover this sport with the colors it deserves.

I may be a fluffer's assistant on the rung of writers and bloggers alike, but that won't stop a few bad metaphors from appearing here. Thanks for the straight shooting Pauly, you're hitting a new high (perhaps a bad pun) with the WSOP coverage this year and getting stronger in the late innings.

Artificial Baseball

After seeing Scotty on the front page of Yahoo this morning, how far behind could the World Poker Tour be in sewing up a gig with Fox and/or NBC? Poker is getting to be mainstream and really not that different from your garden variety game show, so what's to say we couldn't have Helmuth ranting over that Queen-Nine offsuit after Agent Gibbs solves another mysterious death involving two Marines and a midnight shopper at Wal-Mart?

Mart was always the first to the ballpark, eager to play or chat with any person within a earshot. Granted with his 60-ish age the ball didn't travel as far off the bat nor did his legs allow for an infield single any longer, but the man's heart for coming out and playing hard finally overcame the silent jokes. Seeing him on the ground last night without any muscle coordination, just a faint breath after hitting the hard-packed infield head first left a little void. And as the ambulance took him to North Memorial with his son packing up the gear left behind, perhaps never to be used again, I'm hoping there will be stories of wooden bats and everyone running out ground balls next Monday.

Tonight's Twins vs. Tiggers tilt will be attended by yours truly, along with my son for his first taste of major league ball in artificial air. Viewing a Twins game in the Metrodome seems like watching roller hockey outdoors, but to many this is the way its always been so watching a ball hit a speaker and come back into play doesn't seem unnatural to fans of the blue and red. The new ballpark can't get here soon enough for some great early May games in the snow!

You're Not in Kansas Anymore

If you had bet me 3:1 last night that Kevin Slowey would have more strikeouts then Sheets in the Brewers/Twins game, I still wouldn't have given action. Something in water down at the Homerdome? But getting a few bucks out of StB never sucks :)

And its not just the Twins, it seems like the whole AL Central is finally waking up to their preseason predictions of being the strongest division out there. Retorts from the great baseball minds?

Free money at Stars is there if you want it. Some bloggers and readers alike may not know about it, but the Turbo Takedown which only cost frequenty player points to enter has a prize pool of $1,000,000. The winner last night took home nearly the same amount as the Sunday Million winner, not bad for a freeroll. And if you're into SnGs, it doesn't matter how high you play because the Battle of the Planets contest for putting together a good run in a block of 20 or 100 SnGs from the micro stakes to the $5,000 head-ups swinging dick level, could net you the $12,500 they gave to first place in the $50,000 freeroll for the ~450 weekly winners.

On a similar note: I really enjoy those write ups, but feel like I suddenly put on regular boxers after wearing boxer briefs for a month. My balls are swinging around too freely and it doesn't feel snug when I'm writing. If there's something my dear friends you'd like to see more of (or less of) in these writeups, please hammer away.