What the Rut? November 11, 2008

My friend Sally’s new car just incurred $4,000 damage after a deer hit her.  The Sheriff told her that rutting season has officially arrived in northern Wisconsin.  Rutting is when the male deer become aroused and run blindly after doe scents.  They fight other bucks, make deep noises, rub their antlers on trees, and throw caution to the wind.  It’s like a typical night at Studio 54 in the late 70’s in New York City, except these bucks get lucky more frequently.

Rutting also signals the start of hunting season.  The hunters amuse me, they splash on deer urine, wear antlers around their necks so they can “rattle” them to attract the bucks (who are supposed to be tricked that there is a buck fight over a sexy little doe), and sit for hours in a deer stand waiting for that massive, elusive buck to wander into their shot range.

The deer hunters are out from dawn until dusk and then drink beer, eat, and tell their stories at night.  They lament about the one that got away.  They argue about what buckshot is the best for hunting.  They brag about the woman on the outskirts of town known as “Swamp Buck,” which means big rack, tainted meat. 

When they were kids, my sister Kim and her friend found a deer head in a neighbor’s garbage.  They took it to our Catholic grade school’s convent, placed it outside the door, rang the bell and ran.  Yep, doorbelling with a deer head.  I wonder if the nuns felt threatened or knew it was a kids’ prank.  Based on the way they meted punishment that fall, I think they had their suspicions.

I try not to drive much during rutting season, which is a great season for auto body shops.  Also keeping me off the road are the many vehicles with carcasses attached.  That in itself is a statement.  Yep, there goes Maynard with his trunk half open, and look at the lifeless eyes staring out.  Sure hope he gets that beauty mounted. 

Spontaneous Celebration? October 30, 2008

The Phillies won the World Series and I stayed tuned after the game ended just to watch the celebration.  The closer, Brad Lidge, dropped to his knees –either to give thanks to the Lord or to brace himself for the other players piling on.  Within a minute, there was a massive pile of happy men acting like boys.  Then the spontaneity ended. 

Suddenly, all those players were wearing shirts and hats that proclaimed their championship.  Yes, you too can own this official MLB gear.  Ditch those weeks old Division Champion items and sport the World Series ones.  I’m surprised a 1-800 number did not scroll across the bottom of the screen.  Next, the trophy was presented, MVP named, short speeches were made, and out came the newspaper with the “Champs” headline.  Gee, this was all feeling so staged, but not well choreographed.

I think it’s amusing to watch grown men shake up champagne and spray it at one another.  I was once at a celebration where a bottle of champagne was being passed around and I took a swig, it bubbled down my throat and then came out my nose.  I watched to see that happen, but I didn’t see it.  These days, the celebration occurs in a plastic covered locker room with celebrants receiving goggles to protect their eyes.   

Say It Isn’t So, Brett: October 21, 2008

There is a barn located about 40 miles from Green Bay that is painted with the words “4 Ever in Our Hearts.”  No one driving by this barn has any doubt over what those words mean.  Wisconsin has had a 16 year love affair with Brett Favre. 

When Brett announced he was going to retire, the fans were saddened; he was such an integral part of the success of the Packers and also a prolific member of the community.  Then when he announced that he was un-retiring and flew to Green Bay in early August, there was confused euphoria, one tavern sold 4 cent beers to celebrate.  The next day, he announced it would not work out and suddenly he was in a Jets uniform.

Packers fans remain loyal to Brett Favre.  Listen to sports radio and the fans reminisce about him.  Watch any Packers game and you’ll see Number 4 jerseys throughout the crowd.  Of course, some of those are because people are thrifty and they will wear that jersey until it falls apart.  That farmer who painted his barn spent a lot of time and money to show his love for Brett.  Fans still go to tailgate at Brett’s Steakhouse in Green Bay. 

Apparently, that loyalty may not be a two-way street.  It was reported Sunday that Favre has been leaking insider information on the Packers to opposing teams.   If these allegations are true, what a disappointment it brings to so many fans to suddenly realize that Favre has become a modern day Benedict Arnold.  Benedict Arnold was a Revolutionary War general who became frustrated and bitter and opposed some of the decisions being made, so he changed sides.  Favre is a Field general who faced similar emotions.  In the end, Arnold’s reputation as a traitor is his legacy.  I hope that won’t be the case with Favre.

Green Bay fans have a sense of humor and a love of tailgating.  I expect to see some great signs at the next home game and I also anticipate there may be “Turncoat” themed tailgates.  That could include a burn pile for all those Number 4 jerseys and turning his tearful retirement speech into a party game, every time a tear drops you take a swig.  

Fowl Hunting, October 14, 2008

I awoke to the sound of gunshots on Saturday morning.  No, I don’t live in Afghanistan, but I do live on a lake.  Duck hunting season has begun.

My first indicator of duck season was when I pointed out a homecoming float driving down the street.  My friends laughed at me and said it wasn’t a float, it was a duck blind.  It’s covered in camouflage netting and conceals the hunters from the ducks. Hey hunters, just come to my house.  No concealment necessary, the ducks have been here all summer crapping on my dock.

My brother once went goose hunting to North Dakota and said that the blinds where he hunted did not look like homecoming floats, they were very sophisticated.  He explained that the hunters would lie on their backs in the blinds and when the geese were flying over, doors located over the hunters’ bodies opened so the hunters could take their shots.  Then the extremely well-trained dogs would come out of their camouflaged igloos and retrieve the birds and place them in containers near the blinds.

I can appreciate a well-trained hunting dog.  For 14 years, we owned an English Pointer, who was not so well trained.  She could point beautifully and could run like a gazelle.  She could even retrieve.  Unfortunately, she didn’t have a soft mouth and wouldn’t return with the dove.  Like Forrest Gump, she just kept running.  When she would return, she was always coated in whatever dead animals she had rolled on. 

Quail and dove are known for being tasty fowl, but a hunter has to shoot a whole bunch of them to make a decent sized meal.  Then there’s the wild turkey, famous for its reputed appearance at the first Thanksgiving.  A few years back, during turkey hunting season, my brother shot a wild turkey.  Mom dressed it and had a big dinner event.  The meat was succulent and it was a wonderful family memory until mom bit into a BB and took out half a tooth.  It cost her $500 to get that tooth crowned.

Surf’s Up, October 9, 2008   

I used to think that all surfing took place in Hawaii and California.  But last week, I was in southern Maine after Hurricane Kent hit and I watched the beach fill up with surfers.  They are a cool group.  Most of them have bumper stickers on their cars with surfing slogans.  One of them drives a really neat old wood paneled wagon straight out of a Gidget movie.  That Pontiac was known as a Woodie back in the late 1950’s.  (Yessiree, the Woodie was a car back when gay meant happy.)  In the Gidget movie, all the surfers had nicknames; somehow, I don’t think that is the case with the surfers in Maine.

The water temperature in Maine is icy cold even in mid-summer, so of course these surfers were wearing wetsuits.  While watching them surf, I realized that I have never seen a fat surfer. I bet they don’t even make wetsuits for extra large people.  Or maybe the wetsuits just do a really good job at compressing the fat so they all look thin.  I once bought a swimsuit that claimed that it would make me look 10 pounds lighter.  It was the hardest thing to put on, and now that I think about it, that’s probably what caused my appendix to burst.

I could sense the excitement of the surfers as they got out of their cars, prepared their boards, and put their wetsuits on -- much more quickly than I can put that swimsuit on.  They all seemed to know one another, and they all seemed to know their place on the beach.  I talked to one woman whose boyfriend owns a wooden surfboard making shop there in York.  I know he can’t do it for the money (how many people surf on wood?) but for the love of the sport. 

I also discovered a shop across from the ocean that is a surf shop.  Its name is Liquid Dreams.  I had seen it many times before, but thought it was some kind of head shop (I never associated the name with surfing), so I never went in.  It is open year round, that tells me that there are surfers on York Beach year round.  I wish I’d have asked how they keep their faces warm in the winter.

The ocean had incredible swells and the weather was gray and misty.  Watching the surfers was amazing.  There was a small crowd of spectators (many of them the extra large type that wetsuits won’t fit) drinking coffee to keep warm.  Some of the surfers were so talented, riding the waves with perfect timing, balance and control.  I saw one rookie with what looked like a training strap attached to the front of the board –I think the strap was meant for keeping the board from separating too far from him, but it appeared he was using it to steer the board. 

That would be the kind of contraption I would need, along with months of lessons, a large dose of courage, and an extra large wetsuit.

Aaron Rodgers AKA. Mr. Clean, September 29, 2008

Last summer, my sister Kim and her friend Judy were at a Jimmy Buffet concert and somehow finagled their way into the VIP seating area.  This area had its own bar and bathrooms and plenty of legitimate VIPs.  Unfortunately, like most venues, it did not have enough female bathroom stalls.  So my sister had to do what so many beer-drinking women have had to do before her…use the men’s room.

When she was finished, she came out of the stall and ran right into Aaron Rodgers.  At the time, he was the unknown backup QB of the Green Bay Packers.  He was at the concert in the VIP area with a couple of other players.  He, too, had to use the restroom.  He looked stunned and confused to see her there, but was still polite and they exchanged pleasantries.

Kim reports that he was a careful hand washer.  So, either his mama raised him right or he knew he was being watched by my sister. 

Brett Favre has moved on to the New York Jets and Aaron Rodgers’ statistics are right up there with some of the best quarterbacks in the league.  For the past four games, Aaron Rodgers has been the Packers’ starting QB.  He has done a terrific job under intense scrutiny.  Fans are wearing Number 12 jerseys.  The young female groupies are calling him “A-Rod the god.” 

A-Rod the god is not the type of quarterback who licks his hands before passing the ball as so many other quarterbacks do.  He is far too composed to stick his hand in his mouth before touching the communal pigskin.

As the pivotal moments of the game against Tampa Bay evolved, Rodgers suffered a shoulder injury.  Into the game came a man named Flynn, the backup quarterback.  I watched as Flynn licked his hand as he took the ball.  He nearly threw an interception.  I knew the game was lost.

Yep, cleanliness is next to godliness.

Sports Bar Manager, September 23, 2008

My husband is an avid Boston Red Sox fan and doesn’t get many games in Afghanistan, where he is deployed.  So, it was exciting for him to come to DC this week for meetings knowing that he could catch some critical games as the Red Sox close in on a wild card spot in the playoffs.

Last night, the Red Sox were playing a decisive game, where a win meant they clinch the wild card spot.  It was not on our hotel’s cable channels, so we headed to a local sports bar that has about 25 televisions.  We told the hostess that we wanted to be seated in an area where the Red Sox game was playing.  She pulled out a list of games and said they weren’t going to be shown. Stunned and perplexed, we asked her to go check with management.  She disappeared for about ten minutes.

As we waited, we noticed that every television was tuned to the pre-game show for Monday Night Football, Jets vs Chargers.    The hostess returned with a short man who I assumed was the manager.  He sighed a heavy sigh at the inconvenience of it all and pretended to have to reschedule all the televisions (which in truth was just turning one away from Monday Night Football).

We were seated in a corner area where they had put the Red Sox game on the 20 inch screen.  Our table was next to some loud-talking Red Hat ladies that were oblivious to sports.  We had to strain our necks because of the angle of the small-screen analog TV, they should have given us binoculars.  We ate our mediocre dinner and were one hour into the game when the 8 o’clock hour tolled.  At that point, the Sox game turned off and Monday Night Football came on. 

And then it became crystal clear -- the Sports Bar Manager was a Yankees fan.  He probably spit into our food as well.

Dance a Little Sidestep, September 18, 2008

The New York Giants were inspired last season by Greg Gadson.  Greg played football at West Point and was one of my husband’s students there back in the late 80’s.  Unfortunately, Greg had to have both of his legs amputated after being injured by an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) in Iraq.  

He is a great American who suffered an incredible loss but doesn’t sit around wallowing in self pity.  Instead, he inspires others.  He did this when he spoke to the Giants when they were 0-2 to start the season last year.  They kept him coming back for more.  He was on the Giants’ sideline when they defeated the Packers in the NFC playoffs.  I hated that the Packers lost, but I was so proud of Greg that I cheered for them to win the Superbowl.        

Today it hit the press that during the playing of the Star Spangled Banner at a charity event in July, Dallas Mavericks’ player Josh Howard said: "I don't celebrate this [expletive]. I'm black."

Mavericks’ owner Mark Cuban’s response to this was that they will go through advanced communication skill sessions in training camp.  That comment is as pathetic as Mark’s dance moves when he competed on Dancing with the Stars. 

Cuban is dancing a little sidestep this time.  This is not a problem with communication skills, it’s with attitude.  His suggested training is like a pedicure for hammer toes.  You may have polished those nails, but the fact that the toes are deformed doesn’t escape notice. 

Don’t Drink the Kool-Aid, September 16, 2008

I grew up a half mile from Milwaukee County Stadium, now known as Miller Park.  On the days of big games, we would sell our private parking spots behind the house for $1.  We kids would also set up a Kool-Aid stand to make additional money.  Mom told us that sugar was expensive, and wouldn’t allow us to use the full cup the recipe called for, so our customers got bitter Kool-Aid.  We’d ask for the cups back, rinse them in a bucket of water we had below the stand, and reuse.  Often, the Styrofoam cups had teeth marks in them from my little brother.  But we were damned cute and determined and could sell.  We did not have any returning customers.

Decades have passed since then.  The Brewers saw post season play in 1981 and 1982.  Other than that, there were only a few years where they teased the town with the prospect.  It’s been 26 years and still waiting.

When the Brewers stunk, fans needed distractions to entertain them as the team chalked up loss after loss.  Bernie Brewer would slide down a slide into a giant mug of beer with homeruns, and of course, the sausage races were worth staying until the 6th inning to root for.  But fans don’t want to pay a day’s wages to see sausages race and attendance statistics proved that if you lose, they won’t come.

Then, along came a glimmer of hope.  Last year, the team spent 121 days in first place, but collapsed as the fall approached and left disappointed fans hoping for better luck in 2008.  This year, there was again a chance for post season play.  The Brewers looked like they had a shot at the Division race and appeared to have, at the very least, a great chance at a wild card slot.  Then came September, with three wins and 11 losses thus far, and the lead has now evaporated.

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