Sunday Night Quarterback - Week 1

Not surprised in the least. I told me father-in-law the over/under would be 40, and I figured that if either team could score 20 points, they would win.

It's a simple formula for the Skins. If they get off the field on 3rd down, they will be in every game they play in this season. But if they don't, it's going to be a long year.

I haven't looked the the stats, but I can't imagine Portis got as many carries as he should have, especially after ripping off that 34-yarder on the first play from scrimmage. Clearly the Randle El sweep went over like a fart in church, but I applaud his effort to make up for it (he had a heck of a game).

And to allow the Giants into the red zone twice and only give up three points (in the 1st quarter) is all you can ask from that defense. Your offense has to step up in that spot. Looking back, it seems that Washington's defense spending 13 minutes on the field in the 1st quarter was devastating - they never really recovered from that. I saw Haynesworth on the sidelines for two key 3rd down conversions, and you have to hold the offense responsible for that, in part. Three-and-outs hurt you on both sides of the ball.


So now you look to next weekend's game against a Rams team that got taken to the woodshed in Seattle, and you have wonder what constitutes success in that game? It can't just be to get a W, right?

What Are You Looking At, 1:40 p.m.

Maya goes for the longest distance on the slip-n-slide at the River House.

From the "No way!" dept.

I'm sitting at the pool, watching my son make new friends and perform inspired (if not well-executed) belly flops.

And yet, my mind wanders to Dave Matthews.

Not because I'm a huge fan. Because that's really the point. I've heard no more than two of his songs in my life.

So, as one of the two songs I recognize played at the pool, Meaghan and I engaged in a "can you top this" about who could name more pop culture phenomena we'd had no real exposure to.

Here's my list. I know, I know. I suck and all that:

• I've only seen one of the Star Wars movies.
• never seen or read Harry Potter
• Never watched Lost, 24, or Grey's
• I've never seen any of the Indiana Jones movies
• I know nothing about Coldplay
• never saw St. Elmo's Fire
• Who won American Idol?

There's more...

What are you looking at, 1:18pm

Kevin and I refuel at Five Guys before his soccer practice

One Man's Garbage...

I took my wife and kids yesterday to the Delaware-James Madison basketball game. It was a fun dynamic, since Meaghan went to JMU and I went to Delaware. The Hens dominating performance, however, caused Meaghan to become somewhat disinterested midway through the first half.

Maya and Kevin enjoyed the concessions, the halftime show and the t-shirts that were thrown into the stands after every made UD three-pointer. (memo to both teams, work the ball inside, it will free up your outside shot).

It wasn't until the end of the game, though, that I got what I needed.

With UD up comfortably and about two minutes to go, Coach Ross began to empty his bench. Anyone who's ever played hoops probably refers to this affectionately as "garbage time." The bench warmers get in the game and try to squeeze off as many shots as possible before the buzzer sounds. Most fans are heading up the steps, or thinking about where to eat after the game.

I know it well, because that was the kind of playing time I got at Delaware. 

This is, of course, with the exception of a road game at William & Mary when the first string off-guard was injured and the second string off-guard picked up his third foul in the first half. I seriously think the coach contemplated asking the ref if we could compete with four players before he pointed a finger at me and waved me in the game. I did well, though.

I'm getting distracted though, because this post isn't about me. It's about Samer Madarani.

If you look at his bio on the website, you'll see that he's a 5-10 150-pound walk-on freshman point guard who went to high school locally (all-conference, not bad), but that's not why this post is about him.

If you look at the boxscore, you'll see that his line was: 1 minute, 1-2 from the line, and a turnover, but that's not why this post is about him.

If you look at his season stats, you'll quickly realize that yesterday was his first points of the season, and then you might start to get the picture.

For 36 seconds, Madarani was all over the floor. He broke the press, got fouled on the way to the hoop, and then, with about seven seconds left in the game, he dove through the legs of the tallest player on the court in an effort to steal the ball away.


Seven seconds left. 

Delaware was up by 14. 

Some people were already in the parking lot.

I don't know Samer Madarani other than his picture in the program. And it's safe to say that I'll never know him well enough to tell him what he did to inspire a 38 year-old ballplayer with aching knees, ankles, and the equivalent of a small child's weight hanging on him since his playing days.


But I saw all I needed to see in those 36 seconds to know what kind of player he probably was in every Blue Hen practice this season.

And how much his teammates appreciate him. 

And how proud that coaching staff is of him.

Now, where the hell did I put my sneakers?

What are you looking at, 2:46 pm

Kevin doing Cosmic Bowling at his classmate Will's birthday party.

My Hoopties: Volume 1

I’m kind of nuts when it comes to automobiles.

It’s not recent thing. My mother says that I used to fall asleep in my room playing with matchbox cars, and when I wasn’t drawing pictures of sports logos (or playing Statis-Pro, which is another story for another time), I was reading about cars, drawing pictures of cars, and altogether obsessed with anything that had four wheels.

I subscribed to Motor Trend, Car & Driver and Road & Track (as well Car Craft back in the day), and I loved to make charts, comparing the specs of my favorite vehicles, or build the plastic Revell models of Chevelles, Z-28s and GTOs.

And it hasn’t stopped. I just did the “25 random things about me” post that has gone viral on Facebook, and realized that I have owned 19 cars in my lifetime, which becomes batty when you consider that I have had a driver’s license for only 21 years. (I also admitted that I drove a car for the first time at the age of 12, hoping that the statute of limitations has expired on that transgression).

So, I thought it would be interesting to document my automotive history.

Every one of these cars has a story. Some of them are very boring.

Car #1 – 1973 Fiat 128 sedan

Color: Several

What I paid for it: $36

Year bought: 1985

Imagine a box on wheels. That was the Fiat 128. I bought this car from a woman in the next neighborhood over from mine. It was sitting outside of her house, parked from the last time she had driven in (which had been about a year before). No price, just a “For Sale” sign. I asked her how much she wanted for it, and she produced a Fairfax County water bill she’d just received. “My water bill is 36 bucks, so how about that?”

Sold.

Now, to get it home, I needed some help. I was 14 years old – so no license – and the car wasn’t running. Other than that, I was ready to roll.

A friend took me back over to her house in his Pinto wagon. We tied a rope to back, hooked it to the Fiat, and made the cautious 20 minute drive back to my house. Armed with a Chilton manual, a new battery and a full bottle of Carb-Start, we had the engine running by 11 he next morning.

At that point, we realized that neither of us actually knew how to drive a stick.

We lurched our way up to an empty church parking lot (bear in mind the car had no tags, no insurance, and I was 14!). We soon discovered that the car didn’t have a fourth gear (bad syncro) In about an hour, we both considered ourselves proficient manual trans drivers.

The car was originally blue, but had been painted several times. I decided to paint it Arctic Orange, since that color was on clearance at Trak Auto. We got about ¼ of the way across the car before I ran out of money for paint, so the car ended up looking like a poorly-executed homage to the Denver Broncos.

I never had the car officially titled, since by the time I turned 16, I had gotten rid of it. I’d never drive on main roads – just through the side streets in the neighborhood – to play ball at the elementary school or the church.

My buddy and I had one epic near-miss on a snow day. There was probably about five inches on the ground (and it was still falling), when we decided we’d assess the Fiat’s handling capabilities on a side street lined on both sides with parked cars.

Not sure how I lost it. It might have been the bald tires, but that’s just a theory.

Several 360s and some spiritual intervention left us about six inches from a brand new Toyota Celica, and me probably in need of a freshly laundered pair of undergarments.

The car was unceremoniously towed away to a junkyard shortly after I turned 16, to make way for volume 2 – The Beetle.