I'm not getting any younger

I've started playing on an intramural flag football team this fall. I play on a men's team and a co-ed team. Both teams are pretty good - our co-ed team won 50-0 last week - and I'm having fun, but I'm definitely not getting any younger. Oh I'm in good condition, just my body isn't fairing as well as it used to.

The men's team plays at 6 p.m. Sunday's then the co-ed is an hour later, which is nice because it only takes up one day and the weekends are ideal. However, by about the middle of the co-ed game I'm usually pretty beat up. During the first half of the men's game two weeks ago I pulled a muscle in my back that nagged me for the rest of the evening, but I still managed to have an interception in the men's game then two touchdowns in co-ed.

However, the next few days I felt like I was 60 years old because my body was sore all over. I'm talking sore just to sit down the toilet. By Thursay I was okay and ready for last week's but again in the first half of the men's game I pulled a muscle in my hip, which made it hard to run at full speed, but I was okay to play in the co-ed. About three plays into the co-ed game a girl fell in front of me when I was running with the ball and her head went right into my leg and pulled my quad muscle. Luckily the game was a blowout and the defense scored three times so I didn't have to do much running.

The soreness was back all over again, but after some ice and a dip in the cold pool - in our training room we have a pool that is set at 55 degrees all the time, as well as one set to 115 - and I finally thought I was over it going into this weekend...

Yesterday I'm playing golf with my old roommate Adam and a few of his co-workers. On the first hole, one of the guys duffed his shot past me and I thought he was done so I started walking onto the fairway to hit my ball. I happened to glance to my right, only to see him in the top of his backswing. I tried to hightail it out of the way, but I couldn't move fast enough and he hit me with a line drive right about my ankle. Somehow I managed to walk the next 17 holes and shoot 83 along the way with some shots left on the course.

Unfortunately my left ankle and most of the ligaments in my lower leg hurt like hell and I'm having trouble walking on it. It's swollen up pretty big and it hurts even worse when I ice it, but I know that's helping the swelling. Right now I would list myself as doubtful for the games, which wouldn't be a bad thing because I would get to spend some time with my lady friend.

Losing Sucks

With the exception of the people who jobs are literally a matter of life or death situations - such as doctors, nurses, police, fire fighters, circus freaks, Tom Cruise, etc. - i can't imagine any job that has the highs and lows of working in athletics and the highs are incredibly high and the lows are incredibly low.

Except for the extreme situations - like when a student-athlete dies - the worse days of my job are the ones when we lose. Losing sucks. What makes my job suck more after a loss than others in athletics, such as marketing, facilities, etc., is that we have to make the athletes and coaches do the one thing they don't want to do after a loss: talk. After a loss no one wants to talk to the media. They'll go see the trainers or meet with a coach, but after a loss all they want to do is crawl inside a hole. It's my job to get them into the interview room.

It's much easier to get coaches into the media room because they know it's their job. They're being paid to be here so they understand it needs to be done. Student-athletes are a different story. The best way to get them into the room is stroke their ego, tell them that players with character are the ones that talk after losses or that if they really want to be a leader, they can chose when to lead, you talk after a win then you're going to have to talk after a loss.

Saturday night the emotional swings that come with athletics were front and center. One of the great parts about my job is that I get to be on the field for the final five minutes of the game. After a poor first half, we fought back to tie the game in the fourth quarter and we had the momentum. Clemson hadn't done much the second half and if we could get the ball back we surely we're going to score. Then it happens. Our defense is caught off-guard and Clemson takes the ball from midfield down to our one-yard line. Ball game. They punch it in and go on the game.

Now instead of celebrating the win everyone's heads our down. Holly Rowe is on her way to the other side of the field to talk to the younger Bowden, not the guy who says "Hey buddy" when you see him in the hallway. The job just got that much harder and the next few days there will be a black cloud hanging over the athletic department. It's a lot easier to stay in the press box until 1 a.m. after a win, but following a loss all you want to do is go home and go to bed or drown your sorrows with a cold soak and that's just the support staff, imagine what the coaches and players feel.

Losing sucks.

Catching Up - Home Sweet Home Pt. Deux

Saturday morning I start the 4-hour plus trip across Western PA and the wasteland that is Northern Ohio. Along the way I pick up my friend Nicole, who I know from college, but haven't seen in probably eight years. We've kept in touch, but she's been in Orlando and Boston while I've been everywhere from California to the Gulf of Mexico. The car ride is spent catching up on the last eight years and guessing what the wedding will have in store. Many times we catch ourselves saying we can't believe we're going to Dave's wedding. Dave was a great roommate at OU and an awesome person, but he can be picky and stubborn as hell. He found the perfect woman for him, she makes him happy and I'll be damned if I wasn't going to be there for him.

Once you get west of Akron there isn't really anything until to say, Chicago. The closest thing to civilization is the urban hotspot Mansfield and then beautiful Findlay, the hometown of Steeler quaterback Ben Rothleisberger.

Since we got kind of a late jump on the day, we don't have a chance to stop at our hotel and change clothes. That's not a big deal for me since I'm got my suit on, minute tie and jacket. For Nicole, however, it's another story. Since we couldn't find anything on the two-lane highway that split through miles of farmland, Nicole has to get changed in the back of the van. Yes I had to take my folks van since the driver side window of the jeep was stuck about halfway up. Being the gentleman that I am, I turn the mirrors to the side and stare out the front window with my hands at 10 and 2.

The wedding was nice, as far as weddings go, I'm not a big wedding person. It was pretty quick, which was a pleasant surprise considering I expected a full blown catholic mass. We had a good two hours to kill between the wedding and the reception so Nicole and I headed back to Findlay, which was about 20 minutes away. Along the way we stopped to take picture besides this 25-foot plastic bull that stood next to the road. Only in NE Ohio.

After checking in we went next door to the Outback as it was the only place near hotel with a bar. A girl that worked at the school newspaper, the Post, with us joined us at the bar and we did some more catching up. Eventually we made out way to the reception, which wasn't more than a 1/2 mile away from the hotel, probably 1/4 as the crow flies, where we met up with our friend Kim, another Postie. The reception was pretty much you would expect a wedding reception to be: Good food, open bar, some dancing and generally a good time.

When it was about time for the garter toss and I made sure to get the hell out of there. It's stupid shit like that makes me hate weddings -- my friend Jim did it right when he got married, they came in, did their first dance and the dance with the parents. Then everyone sat down, ate quickly and it was onto the dance floor -- so when I hear them talk about crap like that I make a b-line for the door.

There wasn't much to report from the reception until the end of the evening when I see dave go into the women's room to retrieve his wife. Apparently the mixture euphoria of the day, not eating much and booze did a number on her so Dave and another guy carried her to the car. I had a picture of it on my camera phone, but I decided to erase it.

After the reception wound down, Nicole, Erica, her sister and myself returned to Outback for a few more cocktails. Most of the time was spent revisiting our time at OU and talking about what watering holes and restaurants were still there and those that had been closed. Apparently I offended Erica's sister a little bit when i made a comment about the Crystal - with a C, not a K like the White Castle knock off spells it - being a sorority bar. When asked what a sorority bar was it was usually filled with girls wearing black pants and shiny shirt as well as guys in khaki's, a t-shirt or button down, plus a baseball cap. As you can probably guess she was in a sorority, but I really didn't care. Nicole said that I probably could have hooked up with her had it not been for the sorority comment, but that wasn't my attention for several reasons. 1) I was sharing a room with Nicole so there would have been that awkwardness. 2) I had just started seeing someone so i really didn't want to mess that up.

Sunday we headed back east to civilization. After I dropped Nicole off at her parents I made it back to Brookville in time to get a final round of golf in with Bill, Josh and Neil. We've been playing together for almost 15 years now and the rounds are fewer and farther between since I first moved out to California, but I can see myself meeting up with these guys somewhere on the links 20 years from now.

The remainder of the trip was pretty uneventful, which is what I needed after five non-stop days. My dad and I played 18 hole at a different course near by. My short game was solid, I nearly holed-out several times - which figures as close as I got to doing it, my dad holed out on 18 for par - but I was horrible off the tee. I think I need a lesson or two to get things corrected. Early Tuesday morning we headed to the airport and then it was back to Tallahassee. It was a good trip and I'm glad I got to see as many people as I did because I won't see most of them until christmas.

I love the 90's

Did anyone know Hootie and the Blowfish are still touring? Next you're going to tell me the Spin Doctors are reuniting.

Nothing really new so I'm catching up with a long posting about my trip back home, the PG-13 version so there might be a side shot of a bare ass, but no frontal.

I did get to spend some quality time with coach Bowden last night. Normally we get quotes from him after practice, but since there was lightening in the area they had to move practice inside. When that happens the man usually leaves a bit early so someone has to get quotes and yesterday was my turn. I think I may have woken him up from his nap.

More soon...

Catching Up - Home Sweet Home Pt. 1

I've got a volleyball match on TV tonight - no I'm not playing, I'm working it. Florida State plays Florida on Sun Sports for those of you in the south or anyone with DirectTV/Dish Network. I need to leave for the gym in about an hour and I really don't want to get any projects started so I'll recount my trip back to Brookville last month.

With my mind pretty much made up about what job I wanted, it was time to enjoy my annual summer trip home. My friend Josh picked me and we headed to his new apartment in downtown Pittsburgh. The apartment is your standard one-bedroom place but it sits about 100 feet from the Alleghany River with a perfect view of PNC Park and Heinz Field just to the west. You can see home plate from his balcony, it's pretty sweet.Unfortunately was very little going on in the Burgh that night, the highlight was really a one-man band playing "Rhinestone Cowboy" as we walked into one of the bars.

The next day my parents pick me up and we head off to Vincents, a local pizza place near Forest Hills, where my dad grew up. Nearly everytime we went to see my grandparents we went to Vincents. It's one of those family-owned restaurants where they still hand toss the crust and topping are just throw about so one slice may be covered with pepperoni while the one next to it may have none.

Thats about the extent to the relaxation for the rest of the trip. Josh comes up to Brookville Thursday evening since there is nothing going on at his firm. Around 9 we met up at Dirty Ehrma's - a bar my friend Dani owns - to start a long night. Somewere in the middle of the night we make our way up to another bar to check out a band and then its back to Ehrma's. Like most nights when I'm home, someone has the bright idea of going back to Josh's for afterhours - he has a small house on a golf course in Brookville, nice life I know. That evening winds down with me going home at 5 a.m. after a dip in the hot tub and some other nonsense.

I woke around 10 on Friday morning, but didn't actually get out of bed until noon when my mom asks if I'm to join her and my father for lunch. I'm playing golf with Josh, Neil and Dan, but before I play nine holes with her. I played lights out on the front - shooting 37 - but fell apart with a 45 on the back, but still won some $.

The four of us have dinner with Neil's disgrutled girlfriend then I take Neil back to his place and head home to shower so we can go back out. For some reason Neil has me drive his truck to my parents place instead of him dropping me off. His truck is a stick and going up the hill to get back to his place it stalls on me. I hadn't driving a stick in some time and the hills of Western Pennsylvania aren't the best place for a refresher course. Ehrma's is packed, but it's a young crowd and i don't know that many people. I'm sure that's how it was for the people that were 5-10 years older than me when i was in that 21-25 range and knew most of the bar on any given night. The evening kind of drags on because i'm exhausted from the lack of sleep, but I also have to get home at a reasonable time because I have to drive to Ottawa, Ohio for my friend Dave's wedding on Saturday. I manage to get home around 12:30 a.m., which wasn't that bad.

On the Road Again

I'm procrastinating writing my match notes for tomorrow's match with Florida, which is on Sun Sports for those of you with satellite, so I'll entertain you with some talk of travel.

I had my first flight last week since the new restrictions were put in place. For the most part the flight wasn't much different than the ones I've taken since Sept. 11th. No real long lines to wait in an by now most people know what they can and can't take onto the place. The thing I found that confuses most people is that they can not take liquids they buy once they get past screening onto the plane.

The reason for my travel was a volleyball tournament in Columbia, S.C. -- btw, not very impressed with the University of South Carolina. Nice but not great. Prior to the trip someone printed out a little sheet for the girls detailing what they needed to brings, expectations of when we travel, etc.

I happen to see one of the sheets and it listed that you couldn't bring any carry-on items, which seemed really odd to me, especially since I knew people who had recently traveled and they had carry-ons. So I decided to check out the TSA website and see what they had to say about what you could and couldn't bring onto the airplane.

As expected i found out that you can bring a carry-on, but with the restrictions on liquids, but what I didn't expect to find was a pleasant surprise of an odd list of what's prohibited. You can bring a saber on the plane, you can your wear gel-filled bra or prosthetic limb. Throwing stars are a no-no, but personal lubricants, and it specifically names ky jelly, are more than acceptable. Cattle prods of course are not allowed, but you can bring up to 4 oz. of whip cream. Basically what the TSA is telling you is that you can't hurt anyone at 30,000 but you can join the Mile High Club in your own kinky way.