Where's My 15 Minutes of Fame?

After this 100-0 blowout blog I started thinking about the worst blowout in which I’ve had a part. It was a tough call, but the award goes to a time when I was assistant coach (most often referred to as Ass Coach, but I digress) for North Lake College womens volleyball team.

First a little background:

We played Wiley College located in Marshall, TX. It’s a Historically Black College (I think that’s the proper terminology). Ed Garza, our volleyball head coach had scheduled a last minute match with them at their place. None of us had ever heard of Wiley College, much less knew that it was an all black, athletic intense school. So off to Marshall we go, in our brand new shiny white team bus, which I was carefully driving; brand new uniforms, of which I had neatly folded and handed out; with a bag of brand new volleyballs, which I had affectionately aired up; and each player had $15 per diem meal money, which I had miserly counted out. The proud and mighty Lady Blazers, seven pampered little white girls, Coach Ed and me.

On the warm, sunny fall afternoon, rolling through the historically beautiful, but somewhat neglected campus of threadbare dorm and classroom buildings, students relaxed outdoors, boom boxes thumped and eyes of intimidation glared as we passed. It reminded me of the time I was lost in LA and ended up in a 7-11 after midnight in South Central….again,I digress. We were out of place.

As we crept into the packed gym, the rhythmic call-back cheer of “who we gonna beat?, here they come!, who we gonna beat?, here they come!” was almost as intimidating as the twenty-two skilled volleyball players that were running a spike drill, RIGHT AT US! From lines on the left and right the sizzle of the spiked balls quickly turned what little rigidity was left in our spines to a low, flinching and ducking hunch. Their masterfully planned tactics were already hard at work.

We found little relief in the sincere, warm and welcoming introduction and handshake from the coaches…all SEVEN of them. They were large confident men, perhaps former football linemen or Army Special Forces. They had huge hands. After being escorted to our closet sized locker room, we had an unscheduled lengthy moment, or five, of silence. Two of our girls were already crying. I forgot my name.

After a brief and unconvincing pep talk from Ed, I with clipboard in hand, as I always did, sprinted in lead from the locker room to the bench, to toss the ball to our team captain for warm-up drills. As I spun to lob the ball…panic attacked! WHAT! Where are the girls? Where’s Coach Ed? Deep breath, “What’s-Your-Name”…I’m sweating, my ears are ringing; the bitter-sour wretched bile tangoed with the back of my tongue. The gym spun, I with blurred tunnel vision and wearing a Lady Blazers warm-up jacket. For the first time since our arrival, the thunderous gym suddenly fell silent. The only sound was a slow, deep rumble in my stomach. Quiet gymnasiums reverberate.

Back in the closet an impromptu team meeting, of which I didn’t get the notification memo, it was decided to wisely eschewed warm-up drills. The rest was a blur. But I remember a few things. I remember Ed asking me what time it was when the first service whistle blew. I also remembered us only serving twice DURING THE WHOLE MATCH (this was before rally scoring). One of our serves was lost in the net. One serve didn’t reach the net. One of our girls got hit in the face with a seemingly rocket launched serve. Time out was called to clean the tear-drenched mascara and bright red lipstick from the ball. We had to put in our only reserve player who was beginning to cry. Again.

It seemed like an eternity, but was actually 22 minutes from start to finish, 15-0, 15-0. 22 minutes. Certainly Guinness has been notified.

Amid the victory chants of the full-house gymnasium the Wiley girl’s team bench emptied and ran to our players shaking hands and eventually hugging, drying tears and consoling as only female athletes can. The coaches crossed the floor for the obligatory handshake and it was quickly decided that the rematch scheduled at our place in two weeks would be cancelled. Cost of travel, budgets, potential inclement weather, midterms…etc. was cited.

After Ed’s calming pep talk, we left the gym with our heads held high, albeit more quickly at step, to our shiny white team bus where I had already stored our still brand new volleyballs along with our brand new duffle bags containing our still brand new and neatly refolded uniforms. Once the doors were secured, seat belts fastened, the squeals commenced, and stories were told, some even true, about how victory was snatched from our grasp by the referees mistakes. What a great team of athletes we had almost upset that day. Happiness prevailed and planets realigned…after all, we each had $15 per diem and were headed to Golden Corral, land of all-you-can-eat, soft-serve ice cream, and most importantly where Bus Drivers eat free.

Carnac Says: Cracker Jacks Are Next

Here's a fairly complete and updated list regarding the peanut related recall. Of special importance to me is some Clif and Luna bars are included.

Will Better School Lunches Start at the Top?

Let’s be perfectly clear, I’m a huge supporter of O44. But his White House chef is already winning my heart. And its not just the school lunches on his agenda, it’s his philosophy. Click here to read all about it.

These Wings Aren't Made for Flying

Super Bowl apropos, I love me some chicken wings. Spicy, BBQ, Asian, Parmesan and garlic, or lemon-pepper. Mmmmmm. I think a nice sized order is about 10 wings because left over chicken wings make a nice compliment to a salad the next day. Of course, salad = free of guilt. However, eating 200 chicken wings in 20 minutes? Such a different story.

I don’t get the gist of eating contests. But a tasting contest…I’m on board. Quantity eating…can’t get there.

Here’s a wing recipe I’ve kiped from Alton Brown. It's about as healthy as one can make wings.

Take two lbs of chicken wings and steam for 20 minutes.

Cool and dry, then roast on a cooking rack at 425 degrees for about 15 minutes, flip and roast for another 15 minutes.

Remove from oven and toss in the sauce of your choice.

Here’s an Asian orange glaze from Alton (and what I’ll make for the Super Bowl)

6 oz frozen OJ concentrate

3 tbsp hoisin

2 tsp honey

1 tbsp soy

2 tsp rice wine vinegar

1 tsp red pepper flakes

Combine all and reduce to ½ cup of glaze.

Here’s my spicy sauce

1:1 proportion of Frank’s hot sauce to butter, then sprinkle small envelop of Ranch dressing mix to each 16 oz of sauce. Blend well.

If you prefer BBQ wings I suggest Head Country BBQ sauce.

To make Parm/garlic, toss the par-cooked wings with freshly grated parm and minced garlic before roasting. Ditto for using lemon pepper seasoning and XVOO before roasting.

Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot Department (1-30-09)

Sometimes fitness fads get way out of hand. Those Brits…what a funky group.
I see three problems with this:
1. It has to use “one-off” equipment.
2. How are you going to maintain the “weights”?
3. What type of motivation is a 350 lb guy going to provide?

Carnac doesn’t need an envelop to know this one won’t fly.

Mise en place (1-29-09)

1. Think you’re mercury free? Think again. According to this Seattle Times article a peer reviewed study concludes the process for making corn syrup may liberate a small amount of mercury which is transferred to food. In the small pilot study almost 50% of the samples tested were positive for mercury. Think you don’t eat corn syrup? Think again. The topic of processed corn, including syrup and oil, became interesting to me after reading Michael Pollan’s Omnivore’s Dilemma. So, let me…ehhhh…reach into…grunt…my private…here it is…stash...whew. Wonder which of my favorite things have corn syrup on the ingredient list. Hmmm…let’s see:
Power Bars – nope
Snickers Marathon Nutrition Bar – check
Hershey’s Special Dark Nuggets w/almonds – nope
Ghirardelli Milk and Caramel – check
Cliff Organic Bars - nope
Wrigley’s Orbit gum - nope
Dr. Pepper - Damnit

2. Peanuts! Get your peanuts!…cheap! The caution spreads, negligence, says the feds. Did they really ship product that had tested positive for salmonella, then tested negative? That seems to me to be business suicide. Not logical. This whole food recall is really baffling me. First it was spinach, then tomatoes, jalapenos and cilantro…maybe avocados and cantaloupe, but “hey, Brent can you make us a batch of the super-duper quac to go with that fruit plate?" And what did we learn from all these recalls? I dunno, I can’t remember any REAL decisions. Come on, I want answers. Have I mentioned I love peanut butter?

3. WooHoo! This means the bills I recieve will decrease proportionally. Time to go charge something! Thanks for the bailout!

For All the Veggie Lovers

A little to risky for the Super Bowl. I think not. You go PETA.

Mise en place (1-28-09)

1. Here's a summary of a study that makes me proud I'm saving myself for the "right" one. But those Brits...shagging, randy fools.

2. It didn't take the folks in Colorado long to toot their own horn about a recent Men's Fitness article. I don't blame'em for bragging, but isn't it going a little far to bring up the less fortunate? I'm having a hard time understanding how St. Louis, Milwaukee and Cleveland rank more fit than Austin. And San Diego is on the fattest list.

3. After this morning's run in a driving sleet storm with a -5 degree chill factor which resulted in this scene:









I want to take advantage of one of these deals.

Mise en place 1-27-09

1. Finish with the start in mind. Okay…that’s a little too much Stephen Covey's 7 Habits-y, but solid advice. Do you ever wonder why a really awesome workout is followed by a less than wonderful one? Maybe you’re not climbing through the glycogen window. This is old news to many, but bears repeating. Here is an interesting angle on the replenishment with an awesome recipe for a do-it-yourself energy replacement.

2. An idea I can get behind. Although during the presidential race I didn't hear as much about sustainable living as I wanted, maybe Prez O44 will consider a gardner. Heck, they already have a chef and full staff. I'd volunteer myself, if it paid...say, $50K +RandB, otherwise I'll nominate Tom Spicer.

3. And from the Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot department. The most stupid article published I've read recently. What's the point? What editor okayed this? I'm calling BS meaning the author is a Buck Short and needs to turn in an article to pay rent.

Would It Have Been More Fun at 100-1?

Okay, everybody and their dogs have covered this story and I’m sick of it. Viewpoints abound. Many have valid, but opposing points. Did I say I’m sick of it? I’m writing from the viewpoint of a former player and coach, and a continued spectator who has been on both ends of a blow-out. Sadly, I’ve more often been on the short end of the stick.

That, of course, qualifies me to toss out my opinion.

Fire the coaches…plural, as in both teams head coaches. Kick’em out the door!

First of all, they’re responsible for scheduling the mismatched game(s). Secondly, after the first quarter score of 35-0 they should have had an idea that it wasn’t going to turn out so good for any of the players. I’ll use the example of myself playing a little one-on-one basketball with, say…a grade school kid. No fun. Where’s the competition that creates the foundation of sports? The coaches, apparently beforehand, knew of the mismatch and didn’t have an alternative plan. Shame on them.

Thirdly, and most importantly in my opinion, the coaches should have been responsible enough to “spin” the situation into a positive “on the fly” and during the game instead of waiting until the after-the-fact justification.

Alas, my opinion sucks.

Had I been the coach, a disservice would have been done toward the athletes, and other athletes and coaches. I would have made the situation into a non-issue.Therein lays the problem with my opinion.

Pop quiz time: In reality who lost?

A: No one.

Unlikely in a sporting event everybody won. Celebrity was awarded to the athletes, publicity to the schools and “feel-good” to all in the public that has ever been a humbled underdog(whom, I dare say, is all of us).

Even the fired coach will benefit. I’m sure that being a part-time coach for a small private school isn’t lucrative. One does that type of coaching for the love of coaching. I suspect his principle focus is select team coaching. If you read his statement it drips in select team philosophy. Villian or Supercoach is in the eye of the beholder. Do I think Coach Grimes is wrong? No. Do I think Coach Grimes handled the situation properly? No. Do I think Coach Grimes is one I would want to coach my child (if I had one)? Yes.

Occasionally one has to fall on their sword for which they believe. Right or wrong it’s noble. Coach Grimes has created an opportunity for these young student/athletes to learn that lesson. Because you “stuck to your guns”, coach, your deserve an Attaboy!

For a different angle on the story click here to read my very favorite active sports writer.

Rainy Days On Monday = Nice

It’s such a Porridge Monday…a perfect day for blogging. I can't remember rain since I don't know when (that line sounded better when I had Johnny Cash's Folsom Prison Blues playing in the background). The ground is so dry that when my trusty friend (MTF) Rosco runs through the field ahead of me, I have the joyous pleasure of taste-testing the sand. So why am I celebrating the gray skies filled with a light drizzle on a subfreezing day, you need not ask. Predictions are for the weather to stay the same during the next few days. Porridge days all.

Porridge is a perfect dish; it’s simple, versatile and can be as healthy or comforting as one wishes , and a big plus is that “porridge” is fun to say (hi, Leslie).

So as my porridge slowly simmers in the crockpot, bubbles only occasionally breaking on the surface, I believe I have the perfect prospect of a point in time to partake in the practice of yoga. The pot of porridge will be perfectly prepared to coincide with my final sun salutation. Namasté.