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  • 24 Jan

    High-Five

    [Note: For sports haters, scroll down for baby-related content]

    Before last weekend, I had only ever seen a team I root for play in an opponent’s stadium once, and even that sort of didn’t count.

    Shortly after Major League Baseball began interleague play, my family went to see the Atlanta Braves (my former team) at Baltimore’s Camden Yards.  I discount that one both because I have swapped allegiances (let’s go Nats!) and because back then I didn’t mind watching the Orioles too.

    On Friday, my brothers and I saw the Washington Capitals play the Carolina Hurricanes in Raleigh.  My older brother lives there, so it doubled as a chance to visit.  The Caps played disgracefully, but we still had a great time.  It was hard to argue with our view, which was much easier to acquire down there than at the Verizon Center:

    The real highlight of the trip though was getting a high-five from my niece.  The first night we were there she totally left me hanging, which from a 15-month-old is pretty demoralizing.  Fortunately I found her weakness — peek-a-boo.

    We played a modified version in which she would bring me her blanket and lie down on the ground, then I would put the blanket on her, declare my inability to find her and finally pull it off to everyone’s delight.  Of course then she decided to start lying down farther and farther away each time, to the point where I was throwing the blanket as far as I could just to reach her.  She found that hilarious.

    She was also pretty entertained by looking out the window at the rain.  Notice she is sitting on what looks like a toddler-size ottoman.  In fact, that’s exactly what it is.  Here’s her Uncle Pat testing out the full chair-ottoman combo:

    Some would say he’s too big for that piece of furniture, but I would argue that as the baby of my generation, it’s just right.

    By cjhannas family hockey Uncategorized
  • 26 Aug

    Outliers

    The notion of the American Dream is that anyone can work hard and be successful, and that those who achieve great things got to where they are through their dedication, brilliance and effort.

    In “Outliers” author Malcolm Gladwell says those things are all well and good, but if you look hard enough there are almost arbitrary advantages that make a huge difference in who rises to the top.

    “It makes a difference where and when we grew up,” Gladwell writes. “The culture we belong to and the legacies passed down by our forebears shape the patterns of our achievement in ways we cannot begin to imagine.”

    I heard about this book long before I read it, specifically the example of elite hockey players. Gladwell says that if you look at any collection of people from this group, you’ll see that 40 percent of them were born in January, February and March. That compares to just 30 percent for July through December.

    Why? It has to do with a seemingly innocuous decision — the date that youth leagues use as a cutoff to decide how old you are for that season. They say however old you are on January 1, that’s your age. So kids with January 2 birthdays end up being almost a year older than kids in the same league who were born December 31. That matters. They’re bigger, they’ve probably been playing longer, so they seem a little better. They end up being picked for all-star teams, which play more games and practice more, thus turning any small advantage in skill into a huge one, all because of that date.

    I was a huge beneficiary of this growing up. I played baseball, and in our league the cutoff date was July 31. My birthday is August 3, so I was always one of the older kids. Gladwell says if you look at professional baseball players, more of them are born in August than any other month. Not sure where I went wrong.

    But if you’re not that interested in sports, he says “these exact same biases also show up in areas of much more consequence, like education.” Parents have to decide when to start their kids in school, which makes a big difference given the group they progress with. Here, I was on the opposite side of things, always one of the youngest people in my class. I was in the same grade as roommates CA and MR as we went through school, but both of them are almost a year older than I am. Sure, everyone could drive before I could, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t do better than them on a test.

    As part of a larger point, Gladwell brought up something about IQ that I thought was one of the more interesting notes in the whole book. He writes that experts say after a certain point, having a higher IQ makes no real-world difference. There are thresholds at which you are considered to have the mental capacity to pass high school or get through college, but he says someone with an IQ of 130 is no more likely to win a Nobel Prize than someone whose IQ is 180. He compares it to basketball players — if you’re 5-foot-5 there’s little chance you’re going to play in the NBA. But being 6-4 versus being 6-6 isn’t as big of a deal — you just have to be “tall enough.”

    Being 6-3 did not help my basketball career, though if any NBA teams are reading, I am still a free agent.

    Among other people, Gladwell writes about Bill Gates and how going to a certain high school that happened to have a really advanced computer, and then living near a college with a computer lab he could go to in the middle of the night were small advantages that led to his incredible success. These examples are interesting and make you think about how those little things add up. But Gladwell also takes moments here and there to give a more practical view of why we should pay attention to these things:

    “Our world only allowed one thirteen-year-old unlimited access to a time-sharing terminal in 1968. If a million teenagers had been given the same opportunity, how many more Microsofts would we have today? To build a better world we need to replace the patchwork of lucky breaks and arbitrary advantages that today determine success — the fortunate birth dates and the happy accidents of history — with a society that provides opportunities for all.”

    Amen.

    By cjhannas baseball books hockey Uncategorized
  • 05 May

    Koyaanisportsi

    Part of my life is in total disarray right now.

    Professionally things are fine. I’m getting an adequate amount of sleep. The price of Cocoa Puffs remains at an acceptable level.

    But when it comes to sports, things are getting a bit crazy.

    I understand that many of you don’t care the least thing about sports and want to stop reading. For you, I offer the following video featuring Elmo making an appearance on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon:

    In the sports world, things aren’t as funny. Today I learned that Gary Williams, the head men’s basketball coach at (one of) my alma mater(s) the University of Maryland, is retiring. Gary certainly has his critics, but I have always been a fan and will be sad to see him go.

    Then, on the same day, this news that CBS announcer Gus Johnson is reportedly parting ways with the network. That means the best play-by-play guy in college basketball will no longer be involved with March Madness. The Los Angeles Times says he’s in talks with Fox to do Pac-12 college football, which means I will never hear him announce a game.

    All of that comes on the heels of another epic playoff collapse by my beloved Washington Capitals, who were just swept in the second round by the Tampa Bay Lightning.

    Did I mention the NFL season is in jeopardy?

    What I’m left with is the Washington Nationals, and following their quest to remain near the .500 mark. It could be worse I guess. I could be a Mets fan.

    (P.S. I hope at least some people get the veiled references I often put in the titles of these posts. This one, for example, is a play on the film “Koyaanisqatsi” — titled after a Hopi word meaning something like “life out of balance.”)

    By cjhannas baseball basketball hockey Uncategorized
  • 21 Nov

    You’re Welcome for My Business!

    From years of retail experience I can tell you that people don’t say things like “thank you” as often as they should.

    Maybe there is a sense of self-entitlement, a feeling that someone working in a store is supposed to help them and thus there’s no need for common courtesy.

    So it can as a surprise yesterday when I heard both “thank you” and “you’re welcome” and became curiously annoyed. It probably had to do with the fact that both phrases came from the same person.

    I was getting my car inspected, and passed the time sitting inside the gas station reading a magazine. A few customers came in while I was there. I could hear everything they said since they were only 10 feet away, but a display of snacks blocked my view of the counter.

    A woman entered the building and asked for $10 worth of gas on pump No. 2. She then asked (rhetorically, in an annoyed tone) “Why is gas so expensive?!” First of all, given recent years, gas isn’t that expensive as to elicit that kind of rant. Plus this station happens to usually have some of the most moderately priced gas in the area.

    After she finished the transaction, she walked to the door about four feet away. That’s when she yelled out “Thank you and you’re welcome!” I don’t think I’ve heard those phrases slammed together before. Sure, I get the “thank you.” Maybe there’s a pause where the merchant says something like “no, thank you!” Then you get the “you’re welcome” response.

    But putting them both together comes off as a little pretentious, like you’re doing the guy behind the counter a huge favor by stopping in for $10 of gas (and complaining about the price).

    That, however, wasn’t even the most “um, what?” moment of the day. Last night I went to the Capitals game and sat next to a 10-year-old kid and a guy who is probably his 20-something brother. At first I thought he was the kid’s dad, but he just didn’t look old enough.

    During the first intermission, the guy started talking about this time he got really drunk and all of his friends thought it was so funny we has in that state. He detailed all of the things he drank, and how things didn’t get interesting until he starting mixing beer and liquor.

    I thought maybe he was going for some sort of cautionary-tale style of teaching his brother about the dangers of alcohol. Then he started talking about this time in high school — when he “got sooo shitfaced it was ridiculous.” The kid was squirming in his seat, playing with the foam finger he had just picked up at a concession stand. The guy did follow that up with a short statement about being careful who you’re partying with.

    With the Caps down by a goal with less than 20 seconds remaining the kid left the seats. Maybe his brother should give a lesson on how to stick around for important moments of sporting events.

    By cjhannas hockey Uncategorized
  • 10 Apr

    Where’s My Medal, and How You Like Them Apples?

    They’ve probably seen this day coming for a while, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Today the International Olympic Committee stripped Marion Jones’ teammates of their relay medals from the 2000 Olympics.

    Now the question is, how will they respond? Egg her house? Let the air out of her tires? Order a dozen pizzas and have them sent to her house? I wonder what the appropriate “screw you, hippie” action is after your Olympic medal is taken for someone else’s actions.

    Because Jones is currently serving a six-month prison sentence, I vote for a more targeted approach. The relay team members should visit Jones every day. They should bring photos of themselves giving Jones’ favorite belongings to random people on the street with big goofy grins. Each visit should also end with a song and dance routine titled “Where’s my medal, how you like them apples?”

    In short, I’d be pissed. There is a glimmer of hope for the gold-winning 400m team and the bronze medal 1600m team. They can still appeal the case, though it doesn’t appear they have much of a chance at keeping the hardware.

    At least they live in a world where bears can play ice hockey.

    Before I saw that bear, this was the most entertaining video of the week. Sea Lions need to get out more.

    Also for Garfield fans, check out the strip if you take out everything but Jon Arbuckle. Only slightly disturbing.

    And when good hugs go bad.

    By cjhannas animals hockey Olympics Uncategorized
  • 29 Oct

    Oh Say Can You See?

    Should I be concerned that what I’m eating for dinner is supposed to feed four people according to the box? Eh, whatever. Maybe I’ll start eating like a normal person after the marathon. Probably not.

    Seeing the Giants play in Wembley Stadium yesterday was kind of neat, though the beginning was a bit disconcerting. There was just something askew about hearing God Save The Queen before an NFL football game. I’m used to hearing the Canadian anthem at some baseball games, which due to the peaceful nature of the Canadians is almost comforting. Maybe I need to watch more events where the English are involved.

    One thing I will never get tired of at sporting events is our national anthem. I mentioned the feeling in one of my newspaper columns three years ago. I don’t know why, but when it gets to O’er the land of the free…I get chills. Every time.

    In March I ran a half-marathon. Well, due to a partially torn tendon in my foot, I ran 3 miles and walked the rest. I planned on walking the entire thing until five minutes before the race started. That’s when they played the national anthem, and had three jets fly over head. If that doesn’t give you chills and make you run, nothing will.

    The anthem tells a story, of standing strong and persevering. It has low notes and high notes, a range that is threaded together through bombs bursting in air. What makes it even more beautiful is that it can evoke the same emotions whether it’s played by the Boston Pops or belted out by Carrie Underwood. A strong version of the anthem can be done with or without words and still raise the hairs on the back of your neck.

    It can even be a time for comedy. In the Baltimore/Washington area, there is a tradition of yelling O!!!!!!! when the song gets to O say does that… as an homage to the Baltimore Orioles. At a Washington Capitals game, a fan with great timing yelled out “Stop doing that!” at the pivotal moment. It was a great moment in anthem history. Here’s a Washington Post blog on the topic.

    Ok the meal for four has been consumed. O’er the laaaaaaaaaaaand of the freeeeeeeeeeee. And the hoooooooooome of theeeee braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaave!!!!!!

    By cjhannas football hockey running Susquehanna Uncategorized writing
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