Throwing the football around (and over) my parents house with some family members this summer really brought me back to some special childhood times I've had in the backyard. First, I feel as if I should apologize to my parents for all the destruction we caused in the yard. I am sure they saw most of the plants that they meticulously planted from seed, get trampled on by one of us sliding into "third base" or by an errant pass thrown with too much zip on it. Not to mention the times we have damaged the fence or broken the gate (it wasn't me, I swear). What can I say now except for "Can I go out and play again?
I had hours of fun throwing the baseball off the cement base of the house to practice fielding grounders. To be as good as Willie Randolph you had to practice, practice, practice you know. Unfortunately my aim was not very good as I proceeded to break most of bottom shingles off the house with my throws. I'm sure my Pop was thrilled.
Us neighborhood kids had some epic wiffle ball games there. It was no holds barred when we played. You would think that playing with a wiffle ball and bat you we safe from breaking things and each other. Think again. Getting hit with a WF bat hurts like the dickens and did you ever get your finger caught in the ball. Everything STOPS! to surgically remove your pinched finger. But you did run around with the ball dangling from your finger to show it joyfully to everyone playing how you caught it.The yard definitely took it hard during those games. Fences were ran into, precious flower blooms were ripped from their stems in order to stay on base and moms new mulching jobs provided some tough footing during those sky high pop ups.
Hey Dad, muchas gracias for mowing the field (lawn), we were sliding an extra two or three feet just because of that.
I can't remember how this game came to be in the yard but it was fantastic.It's tough to describe, I'm sure may have been a tennis device for practice. The tennis ball was attached to a cord and it spun up and down along the metal screw top. Anyone? Help with a name? I told you it was tough to describe.Boy oh boy did we practice, we practiced so hard on that thing we broke the wire the ball was attached to. Lots of frustration was taken out on that poor thing. I'm sure it was probably happy to die.
Our parents must have really thought us kids were nuts. We would have relay races between the neighbors four yards. We'd have to navigate six fences, four gates one or two dogs, cars in driveways, Damn.. we'd be running across lawns, flower beds (good short cuts), clothes lines, sprinklers and sunbathers. That is when I got most use of my "stop watch" option on my watch (that was a quick shout out to my Facebook friends). I even used my pops old hand held stop watch at the time. Gotta get me one of those again. I got some nephews and nieces who are just like we used to be and would do anything to get timed.
there's Mom's whistle, the sportsfreaks got to go.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Friday, December 17, 2010
Four-ty ! (Degrees)
Last week I was prompted to play a round of golf by a few of the guys at the office. We took off from work for a day of golf that we soon would never forget. We heard about this golf course is South Lake County, FL that was offering free "winter" golf to all golfers. For real, dude. The only criteria for golfers was, they had to dress in their finest Florida summer clothes. This seemed like the best deal ever until you realize it was forecast to be only 41 degrees that day with a windchill factor in the low 30's. Certainly not the balmy Florida weather us sports are used to.
So donned with my flip flops, white shorts (did someone say white out?), polo shirt , shades and Gator Cap I set forth to meet up with the guys at 6:45am. Wouldn't you know it we had one guy, faking sick, who would not be joining us (FYI Andrew, we know where you live.)
To all you Northerner's, 30 something degrees down here is not a good thing. We got thin blood . Really we do. So to say it was cold was an understatement. If I could've stayed in my car with heater on while driving the the cart path I would have. But nooooo..the golf course had a few tricks up their sleeves for all those who ventured out for this special deal. We had a use a golf cart. An open air golf cart! The mere thought of driving faster to finish the round quicker quickly went away when hit with the extra cold wind it created. The crazy cart girls (those beeotches, in their thermals) were of no help. They were only serving frosty beverages (beer me!). You were not able to leave the course for any reason. But they did have Icee machines on holes 5 and 14 for those trying to keep cool. I ventured for cherry. Delicious. aaahhh Brain Freeze!
During the turn was our only reprieve from the elements. You had 15 minutes. (can you believe the bastards timed us) to warm up in the clubhouse. I'll be honest, it was the most glorious 15 minutes of my life. Then it was back out into the frozen tundra. Of all the days for the sun to be shy. This was getting worse by the minute.
To say I shot bad was an understatement. How does one stay relaxed and focused while shivering to death? My stupid chicken skin had goose bumps.
My favorite vision for the day was a foursome we passed that had painted the letters G-O-L-F on their bare chests. All you football fans think you so bad ass. HA!
In the end, with rosy cheeks and runny noses we said our good byes.
The sportsfreak enjoyed his day just being one of the guys.
So donned with my flip flops, white shorts (did someone say white out?), polo shirt , shades and Gator Cap I set forth to meet up with the guys at 6:45am. Wouldn't you know it we had one guy, faking sick, who would not be joining us (FYI Andrew, we know where you live.)
To all you Northerner's, 30 something degrees down here is not a good thing. We got thin blood . Really we do. So to say it was cold was an understatement. If I could've stayed in my car with heater on while driving the the cart path I would have. But nooooo..the golf course had a few tricks up their sleeves for all those who ventured out for this special deal. We had a use a golf cart. An open air golf cart! The mere thought of driving faster to finish the round quicker quickly went away when hit with the extra cold wind it created. The crazy cart girls (those beeotches, in their thermals) were of no help. They were only serving frosty beverages (beer me!). You were not able to leave the course for any reason. But they did have Icee machines on holes 5 and 14 for those trying to keep cool. I ventured for cherry. Delicious. aaahhh Brain Freeze!
During the turn was our only reprieve from the elements. You had 15 minutes. (can you believe the bastards timed us) to warm up in the clubhouse. I'll be honest, it was the most glorious 15 minutes of my life. Then it was back out into the frozen tundra. Of all the days for the sun to be shy. This was getting worse by the minute.
To say I shot bad was an understatement. How does one stay relaxed and focused while shivering to death? My stupid chicken skin had goose bumps.
My favorite vision for the day was a foursome we passed that had painted the letters G-O-L-F on their bare chests. All you football fans think you so bad ass. HA!
In the end, with rosy cheeks and runny noses we said our good byes.
The sportsfreak enjoyed his day just being one of the guys.
Monday, November 15, 2010
The Young Ones
Who says that you can never start playing sports too early?
The past few weeks I have been lucky enough to have been a witness to, as well as a participant in a few sporting events that I will tell you about in this and future blogs.
As I walked to my assigned court I could feel my stomach getting tighter and tighter as I got closer to the gate leading to the court. I never felt like this ever in all my years of playing tennis. But today was a different day, today was the first day that I would be teaching tennis to a court full of 5 year olds. The Tot-Tennis Training Program as they call it, surely could not be that hard right? When I signed up to teach the class I was sure that I could do this with my eyes closed. I love to play tennis. I love the whole playing with anyone who wants to enjoy the sport as much as I do. This was a no brainer. But when I opened the the gate and ten little sets of wide eyes turned my way. It was, I'll admit, a little scary.
After introducing myself (FYI- Mr.Ray is much easier for the kiddos than Mr. Kubicsko) to the kids and their parents, we got down to business of having some fun. For some of the kids this was the first time on the court, much less knowing anything about how to play tennis. So our goal this day was just to introduce themselves to their racquets, the tennis balls and the court. Pink racquets for the girls and blue ones for the boys. Even kids know that! The dumping of 200 tennis balls on the court was a hit. Lots of giggles and laughing as they scrambled to pick them all up. One little girl said they felt soft like her bunny rabbit. I'll remember that one to ease the tension the next time I'm serving for a match. For some cardio, I started them marching around the lines of the court single file, then a little faster and then to an all out sprint. At that point I had to slow it down because of some kids were stumbling, bumbling, berman style. We then visited the "net". Why is it so high? Was one of the questions I got. Won't the ball go through the holes in the net? was another winner.
At the end of the first class I had 10 happy students and one even happier Coach.
Coach Sportsfreaks methods are mysterious.
The past few weeks I have been lucky enough to have been a witness to, as well as a participant in a few sporting events that I will tell you about in this and future blogs.
As I walked to my assigned court I could feel my stomach getting tighter and tighter as I got closer to the gate leading to the court. I never felt like this ever in all my years of playing tennis. But today was a different day, today was the first day that I would be teaching tennis to a court full of 5 year olds. The Tot-Tennis Training Program as they call it, surely could not be that hard right? When I signed up to teach the class I was sure that I could do this with my eyes closed. I love to play tennis. I love the whole playing with anyone who wants to enjoy the sport as much as I do. This was a no brainer. But when I opened the the gate and ten little sets of wide eyes turned my way. It was, I'll admit, a little scary.
After introducing myself (FYI- Mr.Ray is much easier for the kiddos than Mr. Kubicsko) to the kids and their parents, we got down to business of having some fun. For some of the kids this was the first time on the court, much less knowing anything about how to play tennis. So our goal this day was just to introduce themselves to their racquets, the tennis balls and the court. Pink racquets for the girls and blue ones for the boys. Even kids know that! The dumping of 200 tennis balls on the court was a hit. Lots of giggles and laughing as they scrambled to pick them all up. One little girl said they felt soft like her bunny rabbit. I'll remember that one to ease the tension the next time I'm serving for a match. For some cardio, I started them marching around the lines of the court single file, then a little faster and then to an all out sprint. At that point I had to slow it down because of some kids were stumbling, bumbling, berman style. We then visited the "net". Why is it so high? Was one of the questions I got. Won't the ball go through the holes in the net? was another winner.
At the end of the first class I had 10 happy students and one even happier Coach.
Coach Sportsfreaks methods are mysterious.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Pick Me ! Pick Me !
Last week I signed up for friendly tennis tournament, signing up about 1.5 hours before the event. Warmed up relaxed and feeling loose for my match, time comes to play. Ray is not listed to participate. What?!! 64 players signed up. I know I signed up. But to no avail, I was the 65th. The Tennis Nazi announces "NO TENNIS FOR YOU!". Not sure how this could have happened, but it did. So as respectful as I could be leaving the court, I hit a ball over the fence, took my racket and went home. I think Johnny Mac would have asked me for a bit more.
I haven't felt that slighted since finding raisins in my Trick or Treat bag.
A close 2nd was last month when a guy at the Y decided he didn't want me as his 5th for a game. (Me? I'm channeling Kiki Vandeweghe, his loss.). Got him back when he asked me this week to play so he could get a run in and I told him I was not interested. Loving every minute of him sitting on the bleachers as I drained a few more practice shots. Karma!
Ultimate slights:
Being the last pick in dodge ball- if you wore glasses it was an automatic.
Having a girl being picked before you (a boy!). Boy o boy , have you got problems.
66th best college basketball team. So the teams record is 14-17. It still hurts.
Having your High-Five attempt go un-recognized. There is no smooth way to bring your arm back down and hope that no one saw you get dissed.
Even the elite of sports have their own ways of telling players about their shortcoming but try to say it in the nicest ways possible.
He is a "grinder" or "scrappy" player= fields his position...can't hit worth a damn.
That player has "intangibles" = very smart...not very talented.
A fine "complimentary" player =
you want to be a.. your never going to be a...you never were a... STAR.
A "Serviceable" big man = you take up space nicely.
A "Smart" base runner = if you run any slower, you will go backwards.
A "Utility" man = 10 more years of playing for 10 more teams around the league.
A "Middle Relief Man"= pitchers purgatory.
Can't go more than 3 1/3 in a start.. can't close a close one.
the sportsfreak WANTS YOU to keep reading!
I haven't felt that slighted since finding raisins in my Trick or Treat bag.
A close 2nd was last month when a guy at the Y decided he didn't want me as his 5th for a game. (Me? I'm channeling Kiki Vandeweghe, his loss.). Got him back when he asked me this week to play so he could get a run in and I told him I was not interested. Loving every minute of him sitting on the bleachers as I drained a few more practice shots. Karma!
Ultimate slights:
Being the last pick in dodge ball- if you wore glasses it was an automatic.
Having a girl being picked before you (a boy!). Boy o boy , have you got problems.
66th best college basketball team. So the teams record is 14-17. It still hurts.
Having your High-Five attempt go un-recognized. There is no smooth way to bring your arm back down and hope that no one saw you get dissed.
Even the elite of sports have their own ways of telling players about their shortcoming but try to say it in the nicest ways possible.
He is a "grinder" or "scrappy" player= fields his position...can't hit worth a damn.
That player has "intangibles" = very smart...not very talented.
A fine "complimentary" player =
you want to be a.. your never going to be a...you never were a... STAR.
A "Serviceable" big man = you take up space nicely.
A "Smart" base runner = if you run any slower, you will go backwards.
A "Utility" man = 10 more years of playing for 10 more teams around the league.
A "Middle Relief Man"= pitchers purgatory.
Can't go more than 3 1/3 in a start.. can't close a close one.
the sportsfreak WANTS YOU to keep reading!
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Sing-A-Long
It's time for the sportsfreak sing-a-long.
This weeks title: The Adams Family theme song
Snap Snap
Snap Snap
There's Yogi and there's Mickey,
Mattingly and Reggie,
And don't forget about Joe D,
The Yankees Family.
Their house is a museum
Where people come to see 'em
4 million like to scre'am
The Yankees Family.
Clete
Sweet(Lou)
Pettite
Now we have twenty seven
Sending our prayers to heaven
Champions in twenty eleven
The Yankees Family
Snap Snap
Snap Snap
This weeks title: The Adams Family theme song
Snap Snap
Snap Snap
There's Yogi and there's Mickey,
Mattingly and Reggie,
And don't forget about Joe D,
The Yankees Family.
Their house is a museum
Where people come to see 'em
4 million like to scre'am
The Yankees Family.
Clete
Sweet(Lou)
Pettite
Now we have twenty seven
Sending our prayers to heaven
Champions in twenty eleven
The Yankees Family
Snap Snap
Snap Snap
Friday, October 22, 2010
Get a Grip Already
We've all been there right? The first time that you accidentally lose the handle of the bat during a swing and the bat is on its own into the wild blue yonder.
Some emotions/questions are sure to go through your mind when it happens, my first reaction was fear (is it going to hit someone/something, amazement (look at that trajectory), excited (its spun around 18 freaking times), calmness (how long has it been up there), global (thinking about Australia for some reason), pain (as it hits the ground), sadness (I'm sorry bat, I let you slip out of my hands)
I love it when a bat goes into the stands, now I don't want people to get hurt, but for me, it's one of the most exciting "all for yourselves" scenarios. As soon as the bats is in the air... some fans are getting into the fetal position, some diving behind loved ones (Sorry honey), a few are running up the stairs to get away or those who were on their phones, are bracing for the pain.
There's always one moron, who stands amongst the rest of us cowards and has to try and catch the damn thing. For some reason, he never catches it as cool as we thought he might catch it, right? It's not like he'll snare it blindfolded while holding a baby. He usually makes it with the awkward two handed body catch while saving it with his leg before it hits the ground. Then he'll thrust it in the air, so all of us can applaud. Not so smooth my friend.
Did you ever use pine tar?
I tried it once. No help with my hitting and it took a jar of Lava to get the crap off my hands.
Wearing gloves to the plate? You're a Momma's Boy!!
I swear to god I am shrinking. (As a man , does that sound bad?)
When I started playing tennis the racket grip was a 4 as I grew to an adult, a 4 1/2,then as time went by, a 4 1/4, now at the ripe age of 43 it's a 4.
Badminton- do I have lady hands? I am likin' the 3 3/4 grip.
The racket is like a whip!
To bowl or not to bowl with a glove is the question?
If you bowl with a glove.. Your a dick!
To bring you non-bowlers up to speed on bowling accessories,
Bowling has fingerless gloves... My guess is its for those going to play handball after.
They have fancy white gloves. Hey idiot, you're bowling, not playing golf.
The black half glove where it cut off at the knuckles.
Never sure what that was supposed to help you with.
Bowling has cyborg appendages for your hand and wrist that promised life-like ball control (hey Kirschenbaum !, that didn't work for you dude, but your #1)
I tried them all. Still feel like a jerk thinking they'd help my game.
Do as the others do and stick with the sportsfreak.
Some emotions/questions are sure to go through your mind when it happens, my first reaction was fear (is it going to hit someone/something, amazement (look at that trajectory), excited (its spun around 18 freaking times), calmness (how long has it been up there), global (thinking about Australia for some reason), pain (as it hits the ground), sadness (I'm sorry bat, I let you slip out of my hands)
I love it when a bat goes into the stands, now I don't want people to get hurt, but for me, it's one of the most exciting "all for yourselves" scenarios. As soon as the bats is in the air... some fans are getting into the fetal position, some diving behind loved ones (Sorry honey), a few are running up the stairs to get away or those who were on their phones, are bracing for the pain.
There's always one moron, who stands amongst the rest of us cowards and has to try and catch the damn thing. For some reason, he never catches it as cool as we thought he might catch it, right? It's not like he'll snare it blindfolded while holding a baby. He usually makes it with the awkward two handed body catch while saving it with his leg before it hits the ground. Then he'll thrust it in the air, so all of us can applaud. Not so smooth my friend.
Did you ever use pine tar?
I tried it once. No help with my hitting and it took a jar of Lava to get the crap off my hands.
Wearing gloves to the plate? You're a Momma's Boy!!
I swear to god I am shrinking. (As a man , does that sound bad?)
When I started playing tennis the racket grip was a 4 as I grew to an adult, a 4 1/2,then as time went by, a 4 1/4, now at the ripe age of 43 it's a 4.
Badminton- do I have lady hands? I am likin' the 3 3/4 grip.
The racket is like a whip!
To bowl or not to bowl with a glove is the question?
If you bowl with a glove.. Your a dick!
To bring you non-bowlers up to speed on bowling accessories,
Bowling has fingerless gloves... My guess is its for those going to play handball after.
They have fancy white gloves. Hey idiot, you're bowling, not playing golf.
The black half glove where it cut off at the knuckles.
Never sure what that was supposed to help you with.
Bowling has cyborg appendages for your hand and wrist that promised life-like ball control (hey Kirschenbaum !, that didn't work for you dude, but your #1)
I tried them all. Still feel like a jerk thinking they'd help my game.
Do as the others do and stick with the sportsfreak.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Remember to Use Protection
An NBA owner being fined talking about players reminds me of how the NFL has been protecting its Quarterbacks. It has gotten out of hand. The NBA is really saying " Shut Up and Play" to all their players/coaches/owners. We, the fans, and the media clamour for personalities in all sports. We love our TO's, our 85's(no habla espanol), our AI's, and our Manny's being Manny. I couldn't imagine how boring our leagues would be without them. We have enough company men playing our sports.
I say let the players be themselves. Loosen the leash guys. (Marc Cuban agrees with me)
I picked up an old catchers mask at the flea market last month. Had to hide it from another buyer (forgot da moolah in da car). Leather wrapped around a metal frame. Not much to it. I now have more respect for the catchers of those days. They had to be tough. Now you just have to be related to a Molina to play catcher.
When I first started playing baseball , I was excited to get my first full uniform. I finally made it from the T shirts to the real uniform. New to me, but not everyone else is that I had to now go out and get myself a athletic cup/supporter. "Can't play with the big boys if you don't protect your boys" is what the coach told us.
Going to the store and buying was a different story. I died of embarrassment because my mom was with me and, like I'm sure, everyone in the store knew I was buying this damn thing. I could hear the in store annoucement coming " We need a price check on a Jr size (ahem..make that large) athletic supporter at register 2".
Truth be damned...I never wore the stupid thing. I, as do my nuggets, thank the lucky stars that I never even had a close call.
Quote that should be on all athletic supporter boxes.
"with your cup, comes great responsibility."
I love Nascar's fire "retardant' uniforms. Shouldn't these guys wear these things everywhere they go? Who knows when a hot cup of McDonald's coffee may fall in their lap. Another reason is because it's the only way the people will recognize some of these faceless drivers. Living up North we got a paragraph a week about the race.Down South its a different story. People got driver pics in their wallets. The truth is now I can recognize 15 to 20 of theses guys. Hey, living in the south changes a man. Jeff Gordon rules!!! Did you know he is like 4'11' a tiny, tiny, tiny man.
The sportsfreak's gotta go work on his tan.
My secret...SPF 50
I say let the players be themselves. Loosen the leash guys. (Marc Cuban agrees with me)
I picked up an old catchers mask at the flea market last month. Had to hide it from another buyer (forgot da moolah in da car). Leather wrapped around a metal frame. Not much to it. I now have more respect for the catchers of those days. They had to be tough. Now you just have to be related to a Molina to play catcher.
When I first started playing baseball , I was excited to get my first full uniform. I finally made it from the T shirts to the real uniform. New to me, but not everyone else is that I had to now go out and get myself a athletic cup/supporter. "Can't play with the big boys if you don't protect your boys" is what the coach told us.
Going to the store and buying was a different story. I died of embarrassment because my mom was with me and, like I'm sure, everyone in the store knew I was buying this damn thing. I could hear the in store annoucement coming " We need a price check on a Jr size (ahem..make that large) athletic supporter at register 2".
Truth be damned...I never wore the stupid thing. I, as do my nuggets, thank the lucky stars that I never even had a close call.
Quote that should be on all athletic supporter boxes.
"with your cup, comes great responsibility."
I love Nascar's fire "retardant' uniforms. Shouldn't these guys wear these things everywhere they go? Who knows when a hot cup of McDonald's coffee may fall in their lap. Another reason is because it's the only way the people will recognize some of these faceless drivers. Living up North we got a paragraph a week about the race.Down South its a different story. People got driver pics in their wallets. The truth is now I can recognize 15 to 20 of theses guys. Hey, living in the south changes a man. Jeff Gordon rules!!! Did you know he is like 4'11' a tiny, tiny, tiny man.
The sportsfreak's gotta go work on his tan.
My secret...SPF 50
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