If you spend only half as much time on the interweb as I do, you'll know that many news, gossip and opinion sites offer the opportunity for readers to post their own "replies" through a comment section. Often the comments received can offer a witty or entertaining counterpoint to the original post, but mostly they just provide a forum for ranting and name-calling.
Now then, the eagle-eyed amongst you may have noticed that the last couple of posts here have offered just such a "Post A Comment" feature, in an effort to keep your, ahem..."witty" observations out of my inbox and up on the site where they belong, for the whole world to critique. [Of course, by "whole world" I mean that infinitesimal fraction of the population who read obscure rugby websites].
But wait, before you begin banging out all the crazy nonsense that pops in to your head and posting it on the site, there a few things you should know. Firstly, you will be required to create a Blogger login before you sound off, so best not to use your real name if you intend to masquerade as someone from the Wolfhounds, Old Gold or as someone's gay lover (or both). This also means you'll be required to remember a password, so be sure to right it down, because, no, we can't help you remember it.
Secondly, all comments are "moderated", which means that none of the comments make it up on the site until they are approved by the censors. Comments that are offensive, seditious, illegal, but most of all unfunny may not make it up on the site. It also means that you need only post your comment about why Andy Nelson loves you the best once, and then you just have to be patient and wait until the censors get around to blessing it. MmmmK Fred?
Please be aware that the censors probably don't keep the same strange hours that you do, are occasionally called upon to get some work done, and may even take a vacation now and then. So please don't be upset if your side-splitting remarks are not posted in as timely a fashion as you think they deserve. Also, the censors decision is final, so there's no crying in comment-land.
Like I said, the censors are not big on stupidity, pointless repetition, bad spelling or grammar, TYPING IN ALL CAPS, illiteracy, gratuitous profanity and most of all criticism of my posts...no matter how constructive you think you are being. Other than that, anything goes, and use of any of the above in an ironic way may be permissable.
Of course, sycophancy will get you a long way, and posts that include something like,
"That was the funniest post ever..."
"I just pee'd myself from laughing so hard..."
"Please be the father of my children..."
...are sure to cloud the censor's vision sufficiently to make it through the net.
Lastly, remember that like, driving, voting and having a TV in your bedroom, posting comments is a privilege that may be taken away from you at any time if you don't behave.
So let the intellectual discourse begin, and don't forget, if you don't have anything nice to say, just make sure to precede it with "I love this site..." and you're in with a good shot of getting it posted.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Nelspawn
Although he's being very shady about, rumors abound that Andy Nelson is a new father. Unlike Leo or Dan, Andy's being very tight lipped about the whole thing and deets about the birth are harder to come by than even that whole Brangelina baby deal in Nambibia. I guess we'll all just have to read about it in US Weekly like the rest of the prols.
What I have been able to glean though is that there was a lot of labor, and they ended up with a girl, and that her name is Molly. Presumably Molly Something Nelson, and presumably she weighed something when she came out and was some amount of inches long, but who the hell knows?
C'mon Andy, why so tight lipped? I, and myreaders reader, need to know what percentile this baby in, since we all know there's a direct correlation between that and the size of your...well, I dunno what it means really, but people seem to care.
Anyway, after paying off a whole bunch of Nambibian security guards, I've been able to narrow down an actual birth date to June 25th, so here goes with the OTDIH stuff...
Actually, the 25th turned out to be a rather slow news day over the ages, but there were a smattering of battles, including Little Big Horn, which done for General Custer. The Cullinan Diamond was found in South Africa, representing the largest rough-cut gem quality diamond known, and naturally it was appropriated by the British, who cut it up and made a bunch of crowns and stuff with it.
The Korean War begins, Mozambique achieves independence, as do Croatia and Slovenia (though not all at the same time), Greece abolishes headshaving of military recruits, and the line item veto is declared unconstitutional.
Birthdays? Antoni Gaudi, George Orwell, Peyo (you know, the guy who invented the Smurfs), Eric Carle (Author of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, trust me Andy, you will be reading this a lot), Carly Simon, George Michael and a bunch of other nobodys.
It also happens to be Antichristmas to Satanists, and National Catfish Day (thank you President Reagan for that one).
Live long and prosper, Molly.
What I have been able to glean though is that there was a lot of labor, and they ended up with a girl, and that her name is Molly. Presumably Molly Something Nelson, and presumably she weighed something when she came out and was some amount of inches long, but who the hell knows?
C'mon Andy, why so tight lipped? I, and my
Anyway, after paying off a whole bunch of Nambibian security guards, I've been able to narrow down an actual birth date to June 25th, so here goes with the OTDIH stuff...
Actually, the 25th turned out to be a rather slow news day over the ages, but there were a smattering of battles, including Little Big Horn, which done for General Custer. The Cullinan Diamond was found in South Africa, representing the largest rough-cut gem quality diamond known, and naturally it was appropriated by the British, who cut it up and made a bunch of crowns and stuff with it.
The Korean War begins, Mozambique achieves independence, as do Croatia and Slovenia (though not all at the same time), Greece abolishes headshaving of military recruits, and the line item veto is declared unconstitutional.
Birthdays? Antoni Gaudi, George Orwell, Peyo (you know, the guy who invented the Smurfs), Eric Carle (Author of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, trust me Andy, you will be reading this a lot), Carly Simon, George Michael and a bunch of other nobodys.
It also happens to be Antichristmas to Satanists, and National Catfish Day (thank you President Reagan for that one).
Live long and prosper, Molly.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Rock Pile Recap
Sorry for the delay. I've just been waiting to put the appropriate amount of time and distance between ourselves and the Bull Moose Tournament so that we can all have a laugh about it now.
I'm not sure we're there yet, but J-Wil wants me to tell everyone how he owes me a c-note, so here goes.
The Bull Moose Tournament usually marks the official end to the Spring Season, and for most of us it couldn't come a moment too soon. In past years Portland has always performed pretty well at this get together, although having always been drawn against Mystic River in the first game, the final had, up until this year, eluded us.
By contrast to all the other rainy, freezing days I've complained about, the weather this weekend was particularly warm. I'd even go so far as to say that it was too bloody hot to play rugby in. Yeah, I know, I never seem to be satisfied with the weather, but rugby is a game that was invented in a country that is perpetually 48 degrees, and as such is perfectly suited for that climate. A few degrees in either direction and the whole thing becomes a whole lot less enjoyable (for me), with too much time being spent worrying about how to avoid frostbite or heat exhaustion, depending of the direction of your mercury.
So, despite conditions better suited to sucking down frozen hooch, there was some good news for Portland in that Mystics were in the other "A Division" pool, and we were instead lumped in with South Shore and Uconn. It soon became apparent however that not every side had showed up in force, with Old Gold pussy-ing out the night before, and Charles River & South Shore having to join forces with other assorted renegades to play all of their games as a hybrid team. This of course meant that while we played our first round game, Mystics would be enjoying a bye in some shady spot.
Our first match was to be against the aforementioned "Charles Shore", who despite only having been thrown together on the day of the game, proved to be no pushover. Or were Portland just making their typical slow start? I dunno. To be fair, Portland was fielding a few new faces of their own, but either way, we had to come from behind twice to win the game, which displayed some good character on our part. Scoreline anyone? I want to say 27-23, but I don't know why.
Anyway, job done, now on to those young tykes from Uconn.
Despite the fact that Uconn was shut out in a 20-odd point Portland victory, I have to give credit (in a very patronizing way) for their aggressive play and their total inability to know when they were beaten. No doubt that on the college circuit they are a pretty formidable side, but that extra 20 lbs. a man that they gave up proved to be a little too much to handle (even if those love handles don't look so flattering on most of our backline).
Uconn made us work for our win, no doubt, and worse still, we lost one-third of our front row when Tractor got himself red-carded for his fancy footwork at the edge of a ruck. Worse still, the remaining two-thirds of our front row also evaporated shortly after the game, claiming that they had needy fathers who needed appreciating the following day. Evan also gave me his puppy dog eyes and told me he was headed home and would "call me in the morning", which meant that was the last we would be seeing of him. Depending on your perspective, despite two wins and a place in final, the Portland glass had quickly gone from half full to half empty.
Of course, if you've learned anything from these match reports by now, it's that Portland doesn't leave glasses empty for too long, and despite team uncertainties for the following day, everyone soon began "re-hydrating" themselves with whatever beer they could lay their hands on.
The majority of the team had chosen to camp out in some bug-infested forest, and that just had bad news written all over it. A few others opted for a hotel room, while the smartest ones went home for the night, removing themselves from any temptation whatsoever.
Since my attorney has advised me not to discuss any pending litigation, I shan't go in to any detail regarding any alleged events that took place that night, and will refer any enquiries to the appropriate authorities.
Back to the tournament...
Well, if Saturday was hot, Sunday was hotter. 97 degrees by midday in the cauldron of the Attitash fields. Perfect weather for doing anything but playing rugby. However, there was the small matter of Mystics in the final, who had enjoyed the easier road to get there, and who no doubt had had a quieter night as well.
Fortunately some well place phone calls the night before had provided us with some much needed reinforcements, and many thanks are due to Jimmy Hendricks, Matt Burgess, Frenchie and Tim McMahon for trekking out to North Conway for what was certain to be a sizzler, both literally and metaphorically.
But, despite the fresh(ish) players, with the hangovers, soaring temps, and me still down a hundy, you could probably see where this was headed.
In a role reversal from the day before, Portland got themselves on the end of a shut out all of their own as the well drilled and well rested Mystics did their thing. Hopefully they would call us scrappers to the end, but not in that patronizing way like I did with UConn. Anyway, by the time it was all over we were just glad that it was. Mystics took home the hardwear for the umpteenth year in a row. I bet all that china looks good on display when the other D1 sides come over to play.
"Oh hey, nice trophies, you guys must be really good"
"Uh...yeah, that's all from Bull Moose. There's like, er...two and a half D2 clubs that go to that, and some college kids."
"Er...that's, er...great. What's that in the way back? 6th place in D1? Sweet".
Well, as you can see, I'm not bitter at all. Just a hundred dollars poorer.
I'm not sure we're there yet, but J-Wil wants me to tell everyone how he owes me a c-note, so here goes.
The Bull Moose Tournament usually marks the official end to the Spring Season, and for most of us it couldn't come a moment too soon. In past years Portland has always performed pretty well at this get together, although having always been drawn against Mystic River in the first game, the final had, up until this year, eluded us.
By contrast to all the other rainy, freezing days I've complained about, the weather this weekend was particularly warm. I'd even go so far as to say that it was too bloody hot to play rugby in. Yeah, I know, I never seem to be satisfied with the weather, but rugby is a game that was invented in a country that is perpetually 48 degrees, and as such is perfectly suited for that climate. A few degrees in either direction and the whole thing becomes a whole lot less enjoyable (for me), with too much time being spent worrying about how to avoid frostbite or heat exhaustion, depending of the direction of your mercury.
So, despite conditions better suited to sucking down frozen hooch, there was some good news for Portland in that Mystics were in the other "A Division" pool, and we were instead lumped in with South Shore and Uconn. It soon became apparent however that not every side had showed up in force, with Old Gold pussy-ing out the night before, and Charles River & South Shore having to join forces with other assorted renegades to play all of their games as a hybrid team. This of course meant that while we played our first round game, Mystics would be enjoying a bye in some shady spot.
Our first match was to be against the aforementioned "Charles Shore", who despite only having been thrown together on the day of the game, proved to be no pushover. Or were Portland just making their typical slow start? I dunno. To be fair, Portland was fielding a few new faces of their own, but either way, we had to come from behind twice to win the game, which displayed some good character on our part. Scoreline anyone? I want to say 27-23, but I don't know why.
Anyway, job done, now on to those young tykes from Uconn.
Despite the fact that Uconn was shut out in a 20-odd point Portland victory, I have to give credit (in a very patronizing way) for their aggressive play and their total inability to know when they were beaten. No doubt that on the college circuit they are a pretty formidable side, but that extra 20 lbs. a man that they gave up proved to be a little too much to handle (even if those love handles don't look so flattering on most of our backline).
Uconn made us work for our win, no doubt, and worse still, we lost one-third of our front row when Tractor got himself red-carded for his fancy footwork at the edge of a ruck. Worse still, the remaining two-thirds of our front row also evaporated shortly after the game, claiming that they had needy fathers who needed appreciating the following day. Evan also gave me his puppy dog eyes and told me he was headed home and would "call me in the morning", which meant that was the last we would be seeing of him. Depending on your perspective, despite two wins and a place in final, the Portland glass had quickly gone from half full to half empty.
Of course, if you've learned anything from these match reports by now, it's that Portland doesn't leave glasses empty for too long, and despite team uncertainties for the following day, everyone soon began "re-hydrating" themselves with whatever beer they could lay their hands on.
The majority of the team had chosen to camp out in some bug-infested forest, and that just had bad news written all over it. A few others opted for a hotel room, while the smartest ones went home for the night, removing themselves from any temptation whatsoever.
Since my attorney has advised me not to discuss any pending litigation, I shan't go in to any detail regarding any alleged events that took place that night, and will refer any enquiries to the appropriate authorities.
Back to the tournament...
Well, if Saturday was hot, Sunday was hotter. 97 degrees by midday in the cauldron of the Attitash fields. Perfect weather for doing anything but playing rugby. However, there was the small matter of Mystics in the final, who had enjoyed the easier road to get there, and who no doubt had had a quieter night as well.
Fortunately some well place phone calls the night before had provided us with some much needed reinforcements, and many thanks are due to Jimmy Hendricks, Matt Burgess, Frenchie and Tim McMahon for trekking out to North Conway for what was certain to be a sizzler, both literally and metaphorically.
But, despite the fresh(ish) players, with the hangovers, soaring temps, and me still down a hundy, you could probably see where this was headed.
In a role reversal from the day before, Portland got themselves on the end of a shut out all of their own as the well drilled and well rested Mystics did their thing. Hopefully they would call us scrappers to the end, but not in that patronizing way like I did with UConn. Anyway, by the time it was all over we were just glad that it was. Mystics took home the hardwear for the umpteenth year in a row. I bet all that china looks good on display when the other D1 sides come over to play.
"Oh hey, nice trophies, you guys must be really good"
"Uh...yeah, that's all from Bull Moose. There's like, er...two and a half D2 clubs that go to that, and some college kids."
"Er...that's, er...great. What's that in the way back? 6th place in D1? Sweet".
Well, as you can see, I'm not bitter at all. Just a hundred dollars poorer.
Take a knee
In light of the slow local news, you might be interested in this bit of spray from down under.
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