Annual BCS bashing

I was going to harp on all the big sports media outlets for not really stepping up and calling out the cruddiness of the BCS, but in November, SI came out with an expose that was well-written and boisterously against the BCS, so I couldn't complain.

However, I still feel like I owe Kurt my annual post about my/our hatred of the BCS. This year is the year that the BCS looks the best, because it's clearly no argument that Oregon and Auburn are the best teams, as they are the only 2 undefeated teams. Well, except TCU, but they're from a crappy conference and we all know that teams from crappy conferences, no matter how good that particular team is, can never beat the best teams from the BCS conferences:

2008: #7 Utah 31, #4 Alabama 17
2006: #9 Boise St 43, #7 Oklahoma 42

Clearly TCU wouldn't stand a chance against Auburn or Oregon, so let's just forget about it. When the Frogs beat Wisconsin by a couple of touchdowns, we'll know that there's no way that would've happened against Auburn or Oregon as well. So the BCS worked out perfectly this year. They got it right.

I have to give Mark Cuban major props for trying to get some change done the old-fashioned way. It's pretty easy to find BCS-haters nowadays. When I wrote my first post, I had to search and search for anti-BCS anything, and it was scarce and never from any main media outlets. Now all you have to do is a search on "BCS Bill Hancock" and you'll get pages of articles detailing the secrecy and hypocrisy of director Bill Hancock's work as directory and weak defenses of criticism.

Anyway, I have a lot of faith in Mark Cuban. A lot of people dislike him, I love him. I won't defend everything that he does or says, but I like his enthusiasm and determination to follow his own path despite the constant media mockery. And if he takes down the BCS with this current "business idea", then he'll be my hero. Of course, the meathead college football announcers at ESPN like Jesse Palmer mocked him, but that won't stop him. 95% of America wants a playoff, and by gum, we'll get our playoff before this century's done. The other 5% of America are old geezers who think these new plastic helmets are for wimps, Army is still a national power, and that FDR just barely died.

BCS Director Bill Hancock's main defense of the BCS focuses on its popularity. It's true, the BCS championship games get more viewers than most sports finales. However, it is not BECAUSE of the BCS that it gets so many viewers, it is in SPITE of the BCS. Football is America's sport, and we love it. We watch football because we like the strategy, the intensity, the battles of strength vs wit vs speed vs surprise. We love the deep pass, the big hit, the 4th-and-short, and the crushing block. We love football because we invented it. It's our baby, and soccer can get pretty tedious. College football exists in every corner of the land. You can pick your local team or your father's team or your enemy's rival team. We watch because we have to, it's in our blood. It's the only sport on during the dark, cold days of Christmas break, where we don't have work but also don't have anything to do. College football is a great product, and it might even surpass the popularity of the NFL if it had a playoff.

Pointing to its popularity as proof that "the system" works is like the producers of The Office attributing good ratings because of Michael Scott. This couldn't be further from the truth: people watch the show for all of the other characters and The Office's popularity is in spite of Michael Scott.

Let's also stop pretending that the main interest of the BCS is the student-athletes. If not for the millions of fans, college football would be like every other college sport, like volleyball. If only a handful of people cared about each game, then I guarantee there would be a playoff. The way Bill Hancock talks about it, the bowls just want the student-athletes to have a great time at their bowl game, and to heck with the fans.

Well, I'm going to keep it short this year. There are much better articles out there that skewer the BCS much better than I ever have, but for those of you who don't want to read them, just take my word for it: The BCS is evil. Secret combinations abound. Don't you stand for it, not for one second.

BYU Game Log

The Cougs are playing the Cougs tonight. The ol' BYU-Chicago St Cougar rivalry. I decided to write a blogpost about my 2 alma maters facing off because it was such a historic game. You don't remember me going to Chicago State? Well, Chicago State was one of the 2 schools that I graduated from "In Mine". Iowa State was the one I mentioned in my post last year, but Chicago State was another school I attended to turn around its pathetic program. We won 4 NCAA tournament championships, and I averaged 50 points a game.

Tonight's announcers: Dave McCann and Andy Toolson. Dave is my favorite announcer this side of Todd Christensen's hair, and Andy Toolson has been known to say things like "You have to really like Charles Abouo's body." Should be easy targets.

One of tonight's subplots: the budding rivalry between Davies, who started Game 1, and Hartsock, who started Game 2. The animosity between these 2 goes way deeper than race. I'm pretty sure they both dated the same girl over the summer.

There are 2 Collinsworths on the team, brothers. To avoid confusion, I'll just clump them into one person. In fact, I could probably combine all of the white players into one person except for Jimmer.

Jimmer opens the game with a deep 3! Dave says he's in range past the halfcourt line. I think this would offend Jimmer.

Hartsock clangs a baseline jumper off the side of the backboard. Davies taunts him from the sideline: "Nice shot, Mr. Bad Shot!" High fives all around.

Hartsock gets yanked after missing a 10 foot J. However, Davies doesn't come in, they put in the tremendously lurpy Anderson. A note about Anderson: He runs like a Yeti, like he's about to fall down every other step. I'm guessing the other Cougs have a hard time keeping straight faces while running suicides.

I love the commercials on BYUTV. There's only like 2, and they're all just pushing other programs on BYUTV. I'm pretty sure today's main audience isn't interested in "Scrapbooking Workshop".

Collinsworth with a 2-handed jam! Makes all of us white boys proud. "He's gone from knockin' on doors to knockin' down dunks!" says Dave. I have no idea what he's talking about.

I think it would be pretty great if these BYUTV broadcasts would openly preach. Since they don't have sponsors, they could have free throws and plays of the game brought to us by scriptures: "This free throw is brought to you by Helaman 5:12, which reminds all of us that it is upon the rock of Christ we much build our faith. Now let me tell you, Andy, I know for myself how true that scripture is, and I know that you can lead a fulfilling life by following those words of council." "I couldn't agree more, Dave, as it reminds me of when I was on my mission and..."

After a few Wet Willies and noogies, Coach Rose puts Zylstra in between Davies and Hartsock on the bench. Coach is this close from turning this car around right now, Mister.

Jimmer nails another 3, 22-6 for the Cougs! Melanie lets her opinion be known: "Jimmer is the stupidest name." A weekly tradition!

Jimmer already with 12 points, 4-4 FG, 3-3 3P with 12 minutes left. He's already thinking 100 points. Toolson talks about his great passing. Jimmer leads the NCAA in "begrudging assists".

Dave calls CSU "the visiting Cougars" and "the Green Cougars". I think he's out of adjectives.

BYU goes to a zone. Is it fair to call any defensive scheme "racist"? I guess any man-to-man defense against BYU is probably racist.

Announcers discussing the lack of diversity on CSU, as almost the whole team is from Chicago. What about that white guy they got from Orem, Utah, a few years back who led them to 4 championships in a row? What about that diversity?

Davies comes in finally. Hartsock hurls insults from the sideline. This is getting ugly.

CSU throws up an airball from downtown. About 2 jerks from the student section chant "Airball! Airball!" for 5 seconds before they realize we're up 34-13.

Davies get hammered inside by 3 CSU big guys. Hartsock seen cheering wildly from the sideline.


Dave previews the upcoming broadcasts on BYUTV. Then he fairly mentions the upcoming schedule for CSU, for all 0 of their fans who even realize their team's playing a game on TV tonight.

Abouo clanks his second wide-open 3. There's a REASON you're always open out there, buddy. And it's not because you've got a nice body.

Davies hits 2 tough shots and smirks in Hartsock's direction. Davies picks up a foul and Hartsock takes off his warm-ups and goes to the scorer's table before Coach pulls him back to the bench.

Fredette with a throwdown! The crowd goes wild! We haven't had a white guard who could dunk since...well, since Joseph Smith posterized David Whitmer in a pickup game in Nauvoo.

Hartsock comes in for Davies. No jokes here, strictly informational.

A BYUTV commercial profiles a Pinewood Derby with Cub Scouts galore. Some bitter memories for me, taking last place and crying in the corner in my only Pinewood Derby.

Highlights from a BYU women's game with 10 parents in the stands. They should play in a church gym so it doesn't feel so empty. I'd volunteer to operate the scoreboard, like I did in church ball.

Fredette nails another 3 from deep. In the back of his head: "4-5 from 3, 1-3 from 2, 3 assists, 2 rebounds, 2-3 FT, 16 points. Get me the freaking ball!"

Emery with a steal and a dunk. That ties the NCAA mark for Improbable White Guy Dunks in a game (3). Someone get the ball to Zylstra on the break!

All the starters are sitting and we've got a white-wash on the court (all 5 white guys). Excellent time to show off our polished fundamentals and 3-point shooting!

CSU hits 2 contested 3's in a row, bringing the lead down to 29. Bring in the black guys!

Halftime: 60-29. Coach Rose is seething: "The score should be 80-0!" Jimmer, about his 17 points: "Oh, 17 points? I didn't notice. I never do. I just care if we win." Sure, Jimmer.

Today's halftime segment is about Hartsock's courting of some volleyball chick. Fast-forward! I end up sitting through it, the chick tells it in typical BYU chick style (I swear I'm not really exaggerating, for reals guys): "All his friends wanted me and I didn't want any of them because I'm totally hot. He totally wanted me, I hated him, I didn't want to date an RM cause I didn't want to get married, because you know that every RM would marry me because I'm totally hot. But he swindled me into it and I've never been happier." Their kids are going to be 9'6" monsters.

They ask the chick a bunch of questions about him, and she gets them all wrong.

Hartsock nailed her ideal vacation location ("Bahamas"). Of course he did.

She was just asked which show to DVR a week, and I was surprised she didn't answer "the scriptures". Real answer: "Pickers". How non-Mormon of her!

BYU's lead going into the 2nd half: 60-29. You know Coach Rose's halftime speech was focused on maintaining the 2x lead and scoring 100: "Press! 3's! Stats! If the shot clock goes under 25, you're all benched!"

CSU's coach after halftime: "We just have to work on getting better." AKA, "we have no chance and I hope we don't lose by 50."

Davies hands a CSU player a 20 dollar bill and points at Hartsock. "Watch out for number 33, Noah!" yells his self-proclaimed super hot wife.

Emery bricks a 3 to open the half. Coach Rose looks agitated.

Abouo fakes a 3. Nobody flinches.

Davies misses a gimme layup, Hartsock taunts him from the bench.

Only 9 points so far this half in 4 minutes. Coach Rose calls a time-out and chews everybody out. "Good timeout here," says Toolson. "Can't let this game get away from them."

Jimmer's dad shows up in the booth. Seems like a good guy. Which, of course, leads to no jokes here. He does plug a local restaurant, but I got nothin'.

Nice move from Davies along the baseline. After, he celebrates by walking over to the bench and punching Hartsock in the face.

Jimmer hits his average and Coach pulls him. And people say that coaches don't care about stats.

Melanie makes fun of the Collinsworth brothers: "Collinsworth to Collinsworth, and Collinsworth passes back to Collinsworth. Collinsworth drives to the basket and dishes to Collinsworth. Collinsworth with the assist and Collinsworth with the basket!" Ladies and Gentlemen, Melanie Hansen! She'll be here all week.

Mel makes sure that I don't make her sound like a typical woman who says, "Their uniforms are so pretty!"

Zylstra cans a 3, and BYU's up 93-44. BYU needs to let my brother Brian in the booth to do his Marv Albert. "Zylsta. For 3. Yes!" I'd say that the only thing better than Brian's Marv is Marv himself, but even Marv has to admit that Brian's Marv is better than his own.

I vote that when the game gets out of hand, they stop shooting free throws.

CSU puts in their only white guy. And he's matched up against our only black guy, who scores over him. Our token is better than your token!

CSU mounts a furious comeback, 99-58. Coach calls a timeout to calm everybody down. The crowd starts leaving, realizing that a 2x victory is out of reach.

The other Collinsworth throws it down! That breaks the record for Improbable White Guy Dunks!

Final score: 109-60. Real hard-fought game, but the better team pulls it out. We'll see you next time.

The Second Annual Halloween Park Trip

We've decided to make it an annual tradition to visit our town park on Halloween. Last year it was unseasonably warm and I looked a little like this:

My favorite part of that day was later when I answered the door for some trick-or-treaters and a little girl (at eye-level to my belly) asked,

"Are you having a baby?"

I just handed her an extra piece of candy and replied,

"I certainly hope so..."

This year it was a little chillier than last, but was much more fun, at least from my perspective...

Boisterous parents

We were at Babies "R" We the other day, and I was letting Hendrik crawl around while Melanie studied various car seats for the better part of an hour. The Babies R We crowd is very similar to the Utah crowd, which is to say that everybody around has their own babies and they don't think that other babies are all that cute or amazing. Hench would approach people, as is his custom, and climb up on their leg, looking up for a little hint of humanity. Some people were amused, others gave me this look like "How dare you let your child crawl around in here and touch me! Do you realize how many germs he has!!! For shame!" This one particular grandma gave him a little more attention.

"Oh, how cute! How old is he?"

"11 months."

"Oh, wow! He's so tiny! My grandson is 4 months old and is also his size! He's growing like 2 inches a week!"

Then, the Babies R We employee assisting them also put in her 2 cents: "Oh, yes! What a little peanut!"

"Yes!" said the grandma, "a little peanut! Are you a little peanut? Yes, you are! Come here, peanut!"

End of conversation.

Let me just put this on the record: There is nothing more annoying that boisterous parents/g-parents when discussing the size of their chunky offspring, especially when comparing to other kids. It's like they take personal credit that their kid has a slow metabolism or whatever else causes fat babies to be fat. They like to extrapolate their kid's size, thinking they will be 6'9 offensive linemen or whatever it is that large women aspire to be (plus-size models? talk-show hosts? birthing machines? garbage-women?). They like to pass judgment on the parents of smaller kids, whispering to their spouses, "Do they even feed him? Can they not afford food? Are they just spending all of their money on booze? They probably lock their kid in the closet when they go boozing! What awful parents!"

They might as well just come out and say it: "My baby is larger than your baby, and, therefore, better. That is a direct result of my superior parenting, which implies that I am a better parent and, therefore, a better person than you are or probably will ever be. I win. I win at life."

In full disclosure, Hendrik is not a small baby. He's average. 50 percentile in height and weight. I have no room to brag or complain. I point that out to everybody who says he's big ("Actually, he's exactly average."), or small ("HE'S NOT A &#%$ PEANUT!!!"), if I have the chance. The grandma who says her grandson is 22 pounds at 4 months is probably either batty or blind (or both), so I didn't bother clarifying that Hendrik isn't a "peanut", in fact, he's an orange, which seems to be an average-size food.

Hendrik also eats ridiculous amounts of food, so much that we have to just stop feeding him when we think he's had enough, otherwise he'll just keep eating. We thought he'd be bigger than average, but it turns out that the food just goes in one end and out the other.

If he was huge, I'd probably be taking personal credit for his hugeness and rubbing it in all the sad sacks' faces that my kid was destined to a successful life without need for step stools or platform shoes, and their kid will probably give into a life-threatening disease as a direct result of their poor parenting (calm down-this is a joke).

Actually, I wouldn't. I made a pact to myself before Hendrik was born that I would never brag about the things that I couldn't take credit for. Which is pretty much everything, because I don't do any parenting. I just give a lot of "performance feedback" for my wife. So I'll just take credit for how great of a mom she is.

Our latest love

Hendrik is a BIG fan of Special Agent Oso on Playhouse Disney. He particularly enjoys the main song of the show, "3 Special Steps." We think he might have a crush on Paw Pilot, who is singing the song.

Ocean City

We decided for our family vacation to get a beach house this year. Mel and I are both beach people (from Planet Sandusky), so we figured it would be worth it to get a place for a week and just laze about on the beach. We did this for our honeymoon, as well. The problem with our honeymoon was that it was in Florida in late June, and the weather was stupid hot and crazy humid. Also, we didn't have a cute little boy to entertain us then. At least that any of you know about.

We started looking around at the websites and found that the most affordable places with the least amount of Guidos on the East Coast was Delaware/Maryland. The beach houses in Mass, which are much closer, are ridiculously expensive, plus you can't really count on the summer weather here. This is my 7th summer here, and each one is pretty different. Last year's was pretty rainy and cold, so I didn't want to get stuck paying a huge chunk for an abysmal week on Cape Cod.

At first, we tried to get some friends to go in on a house with us. Around February/March, we had a group that was interested, but when it came time to sign the dotted line, everybody had commitment anxiety. I was disappointed, and didn't think we could afford a place on our own. I figured we'd wait until the last minute and lowball all the available houses for the week we planned on, and that's exactly what I did.

2 weeks before our trip, I went online and found all of the available properties near our price range and emailed them all, asking if they would be willing to negotiate. Most people came back with 50 or 100 dollar off deals, which wasn't nearly what I had in mind. I had overestimated their despair, meaning that the owners were obviously not as desperate as I was hoping.

However, one of the owners of a 2 BR condo, very close to the beach, gave me a 250 dollar discount, which barely squeezed into our budget. We snapped it up and sent them a check. It was in Ocean City, Maryland, 5 blocks from the Delaware border. Ocean City is more of a beach city than a beach town, with large blocks of apartments and condos set up from beginning to end, in contrast to the beach towns of Delaware. I would prefer the beach towns, with the less-crowded beaches and less riff-raff and all, but it just wasn't affordable for one family by itself. Ocean City turned out to be a pleasant surprise, as it was almost entirely families. Although it was crowded, we visited a Delaware beach and found that it was equally crowded, so no big loss there.

When we arrived, it was obvious that we were paying for the location. This place wasn't exactly luxury, featuring some 70's decor, a 13-inch TV, old leather couches, and A/C units in every room. The kitchen was redone and updated, but that was about it. The building was this sad-looking brick affair, in contrast to the brightly-painted stucco buildings surrounding us. It was a little disconcerting at first, with Mel and I looking at each other with these "Can we be happy here?" expressions on our faces.

Then we walked to the beach. 74 paces from our building, and we were on soft sand. After that, it didn't seem to matter that our place was old, and we just adapted to the firm beds and covered the cheap leather couches with blankets. (Is it just us who hates leather couches? They're hot in the summer, cold in the winter, stick to your skin, what's the appeal?) It also didn't seem to matter that we tracked so much sand inside.

From there, it was just beach, beach, beach. Our regular schedule was this:

7AM - Hendrik wakes us
8AM - After feeding Hendrik and watching his beloved "Special Agent Oso", we put him down for his morning nap
9-10AM - Hendrik wakes up and we make our way to the beach, which only takes a couple of minutes.
10AM-noon - Hendrik crawls up and down the beach, making friends, double-fisting sand into his mouth, crying when the waves get too loud, and smiling at the camera. Everything he touches turns to sand. He's the King Midas of sand. King Sandus?
Noon-2PM - Mel takes Hench back to the condo for lunch/nap. I stay out on the beach to body surf, do crosswords, eat grapes and Cheeto's, drink Gatorade, and soak up the rays. Mel volunteered to go back to the condo mostly because she likes to take breaks from the sun and she's a peach in general.
2PM-4PM - Hendu comes back out with his Mom for more of the same (see above).
4PM-8PM - Dinner/naps/showers/bottles/Phineas and Ferb
8PM-11PM - FREETIME FOR MOM AND DAD!!!! YESSSSS!!! FINALLY!!!!! (Usually we just watched a movie and went to bed early.)

Below are the pictures of our fun, mostly of Hendrik, of course. He is easily the cutest of us, although Mel has her moments.

Peering out from behind the castle that somebody else made.

"Ladies, ladies, ladies! There's plenty of me to go around!" Hendrik made friends everywhere.

These toys entertained him for 5 minutes, tops.

"Nice guns, Daddy!"

More attention, more friends. These folks we sat next to all week. As most people were there for a week (Saturday-Saturday), we pretty much recognized everybody by the end.

He loves his shoulder rides.

Don't ask what I'm doing in this pic, but Hendrik's smile was so cute I had to include this pic.

Trying to get out of the pit I dug.

Being cute. Easier than it looks.

This looks like a Far Side cartoon. "Water, water!"

"How many times have I told you, young man!"

We went to this place called J/R's, The Place for Ribs. I love ribs, so we tried it out, and it was delicious. I gave Hendu my rib bone once and he gnawed on it like a dog for 10 minutes. Turns out he loves ribs as much as I do.

This is the only good thing that came out of a overpriced trip to Nathan's.

Family Picture!

A week before our trip, on July 24th, the Carnival came to Whitman. They set up in the baseball fields and there were fireworks planned for 9:45. We kept Hendrik awake for it.

Ferris Wheel!

Spinny Thingee!

The carnival in its entirety. Pretty small. We didn't actually do anything, just walked around like cheapskates watching everybody spend their money on puke-inducing rides and games for crappy prizes. Mostly we were killing time waiting for the fireworks. I still had a lot of fun soaking in the Americana of it all. Hot, sweaty summer night, all the town folk out, smell of cotton candy, popcorn, and BO, cheap rides built in the 30's, teenagers trying to look cool, I loved it. I'm not being sarcastic. Seriously, I'm not. Why does everybody think I'm making fun of everything all the time! The fireworks went off at 9:45 and they were decent for a small-town production. The best part was that we could walk to the park to do all of this, and therefore didn't have to fight traffic or deal with parking or anything. Hench was scared by the loud booms and was too tired to enjoy anything.

One last happening: Hendrik was crawling around our room and found a "fun-size" Reese's underneath the bed and somehow got through the wrapper before Mom noticed. Here is the result:


He's never been happier/prouder of himself.

Hendu Hijack

I kept waiting for my lazy parents to get off their rumps and post about the big trip to Idah-er and Ut-er (forgive my Boston accent, I lived there when I was young) a few months ago, but you know that's never going to realistically happen. My parents are about as motivated as a 3-month old (take that, 3-monthers! Oh, to be young and foolish again...) on welfare when it comes to blogging. They probably won't even check the blog in the next month, so I can rip on them as much as I want.

Anywho, this was my SECOND plane ride in my life, which means I'm already 19 years ahead of my dad, whose second plane ride was going on his mission (which he won't shut up about btw--yes Dad, we get it, you can speak Polish. Get yourself a cookie. While you're at it, could you mix up some pureed yams and rice cereal for me? Thanks, you're a moose!). I was all set to whine the whole way, but Mom took some Dramamine and gave me some second-hand style, and I was out! The flight out was whine-free from my side, a feat I'm not particularly proud of. You win this round, Mom.

We arrived at Great-Grandma Ann's house in Twin Falls, Idaho, right around 1:30 AM. Dad was complaining about it being 3:30 AM Eastern Time, but what isn't he moaning about nowadays?

The next few days we spent running from place to place, my parents constantly shuffling me around. I got my deserved attention from the various aunts, uncles, and grandparents, and why shouldn't I? Have you seen me lately? I'm delicious! Seriously, check out these pics of me in action:

A bath in Great-g'ma's sink

Hangin' with Gramps

Sweet Aunt April - much nicer to me than Mom

Test driving a 2010 Jeep Wrangler. Couldn't find where the ignition was

A forced picture with my embarrassment of a father

Another forced pic

They wouldn't let me eat the flowers!

You're boring me with all the details of the reception, Auntie.

Look how tall I am! Rah!

A rare moment of fun with Mom

Hey, ladies! Over here on the grass!

You look like an interesting fellow, what's your name? You smell like mirror, though.

Havin' fun with a big stuffed dawg

Didn't exactly want to touch the carpet, know what I'm sayin'?

Help!

Forced to take a nap during the recepsh.

Say what you will about Dad's stank, but the man can tango.

Man I look cute here!

Great-Grandma rocks! Nnnneeehh!

After a few rousing days in Idaho, we drove down to Utah to visit Dad's side. You can tell they're all pretty desensitized to cute babies, as the fawning and adoration was down a few notches from Idaho. You can't blame them, I'm the 521st grandchild on that side, I'm just happy if they remember my name.

All my uncles and aunts at Joe's. Danged if I can remember them all.

Sittin' tall on Aunt Paula's counter

Hangin' with Camille, or as I like to call her, Camiracle.

Another pic with another Great-grandma! I look pretty cool here

We had a pretty good time in Utah, and my parents even ditched me for a day to go up to Park City. Talk about offended! JK, I totally needed a break. Mom was getting pretty naggy and Dad's stink can get to you after a while. LOL!

My cuz Drew was helping me break out of the exersaucer.

Good times!

Discussing economic policy

4 generations of handsomeness

Get used to this sight, Ma, flanked by women

Below are some videos that I'm not particularly proud of, but I don't mind looking foolish in the name of a good laugh:

It's great to be home again, back in the familiar crib with my favorite toys and gadgets. I don't want to get sappy here, but a few tears of joy crawled out my eyes when I saw my trusty mat. I don't want to ever be parted again! Well, at least not until I'm sick of it.

Until next time, signing off!


-Hendrik aka Hendu aka Henchman aka Henduriffic aka The Cutest Boy in Whitman