It is with great pleasure that I post today, in honour of someone that could use a little more humour on a daily basis. Others are warned to move away now, there'll be nothing to see here.
I've been a fan since watching the small screen set up in my bedroom. I was young, (the youngest in the family) and no one else got it. In fact, the reason the little idiot box was purchased in the first place, was just for a 1/2 hour every week.
Hockey game, everyone watched the "good" TV.
ABC's Wide World of Sports, everyone watched the "good" TV.
Disney on a Sunday afternoon, everyone watched the "good" TV.
But on any given Sunday morning at 11:00am, you'd find me squinting at my fuzzy pictured and very tiny little set, all by myself. Usually, laughing in hysteria for 30 minutes straight.
I know it takes a "certain" type of mind to truly get what they offer. “Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Know what I mean?” But I am proud to say, I am one of the ones that get it. I know of another person that get's it and I hope this brings a smile to his face and a chuckle when one might surely be welcome.
So I present to you, with no further crappy words from your's truly.
A few favorite quotes from a common love, that will hopefully make...
our Dr. Feelgood.
“Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government!”
“I don't wanna talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper! I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!”
“And the Lord spake, saying, "First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it.”
“There's nothing an agnostic can't do if he doesn't know whether he believes in anything or not”
“Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help! I'm being repressed!”
“First you must find... another shrubbery! Then, when you have found the shrubbery, you must place it here, beside this shrubbery, only slightly higher so you get a two layer effect with a little path running down the middle. Then, you must cut down the mightiest tree in the forrest... with... a herring!”
“He must be a king.
Why?
He hasn't got shit all over him.”
“He's not pining, he's passed on. This parrot is no more. He has ceased to be. He's expired and gone to meet his maker. He's a stiff, bereft of life, he rests in peace. If you hadn't have nailed him to the perch he'd be pushing up the daisies. He's rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-parrot!”
“Ximinez: Now, old woman -- you are accused of heresy on three counts -- heresy by thought, heresy by word, heresy by deed, and heresy by action -- *four* counts. Do you confess?
Wilde: I don't understand what I'm accused of.
Ximinez: Ha! Then we'll make you understand! Biggles! Fetch...THE CUSHIONS!
Biggles: Here they are, lord.
Ximinez: Now, old lady -- you have one last chance. Confess the heinous sin of heresy, reject the works of the ungodly -- *two* last chances. And you shall be free -- *three* last chances. You have three last chances, the nature of which I have divulged in my previous utterance.
Wilde: I don't know what you're talking about.
Ximinez: Right! If that's the way you want it -- Cardinal! Poke her with the soft cushions!
Ximinez: Confess! Confess! Confess!
Biggles: It doesn't seem to be hurting her, lord.
Ximinez: Have you got all the stuffing up one end?
Biggles: Yes, lord.”
“Of course, it’s a bit of a jump, isn’t it? I mean, er… chartered accountancy to lion taming in one go… You don’t think it might be better if you worked your way towards lion taming, say via banking?”
“Listen, lad. I built this kingdom up from nothing. When I started here, all there was was swamp. Other kings said I was daft to build a castle on a swamp, but I built it all the same, just to show 'em. It sank into the swamp. So, I built a second one. That sank into the swamp. So I built a third one. That burned down, fell over, then sank into the swamp. But the fourth one... stayed up! And that's what you're gonna get, lad: the strongest castle in these islands.”
“Jesus did. I was hopping along, when suddenly he comes and cures me. One minute I'm a leper with a trade, next moment me livelihood's gone. Not so much as a by your leave. Look. I'm not saying that being a leper was a bowl of cherries. But it was a living. I mean, you try waving muscular suntanned limbs in people's faces demanding compassion. It's a bloody disaster.”
“-She turned me into a newt!
-A newt?
-I got better...”
“Always look on the bright side of life.” (are you whistling?)
Smile a little, laugh a lot! And Be safe !
My sincerest thanks for dropping by....
2/02/2008
2/01/2008
Friday.. City Snow .. and some monthly Mucho Gracias …. **UPDATE FOR BANKY**
I love’s me some Friday.
Friday is like the Spring of the week. Which if you consider it for any length of time, it makes perfect sense despite Friday coming at the end of the week, while Spring is still located at the front of the year. (Got it ?)
Since the weeks are long drawn out affairs, just like Winter can seem at this time of the year, it is natural progression that Friday “Spring” us out of Winters doldrums and right into Summer, which of course is the weekend. As Sunday nights are the perfect time to Fall into bed exhausted from such a great weekend, we’ll say that works there too.
Right then! That ought to cover off Friday.
**EDIT**
Now that you’ve read that, go back and do what I did while (semi)proof reading it. Think of John Cleese saying it as you read it. I think I just created a Python bit. Very cool! Or then again, maybe it’s just me. I do have issues.
19 of our 32 plant workers made it in today. I just have to chuckle. Of the 13 that could not make it in “due to the conditions,” The average distance they live from work is like 8 blocks. I drive in for about an hour everyday, from the North no less and they have issues with what is currently about 15 cms. (6”) of fluffy white stuff. Oh and the driving! That is something you just have to see for yourself to believe. About 50% of Bedrock commutes down here everyday. Yes we occasionally get all piled up on the highway from excessive speed, following too close or worse, the non-commuter driving experiences of Friday’s on a long weekend. But typically the one thing we all have in common is, we’re drivers. Knowing that someone ‘responsible’ actually passed these people as approved to operate 4,000 lbs. of motorized metal, and then seeing these ‘cidiots’ do what they do in a car with a little fresh powder on the ground, well it’s just about enough to either make you swear off of humanity itself, or piss your pants laughing.
I currently am on the fence, but have had a tendency to lean way over to giving up on humanity. In my travels this morning I saw the following;
Along my commute, ( at 100 kph or 63 mph and a drive time of 51 mins)
1 commuter off in the ditch along the highway. ( 2 had stopped to help her out )
Within City limits, ( at 50 kph or 30 mph and a drive time of 9 mins )
3 vehicles backwards up against a light standard. THE SAME LIGHT STANDARD !
9 vehicles randomly stuck up on medians, boulevards and curbs.
7 separate vehicle accidents involving property damage.
1 SUV parked partially inside a coffee shop. (WTF?)
and finally as I stared in utter amazement……
a second SUV drive into the back of the SUV that drove into the coffee shop.
Too much !
As always, I’d like to take a little space up here to say thanks to everyone who drops in. I also offer some very special thanks to those of you kind enough to send the most visitors here last month.
Bam-Bam in Bedrock’s top referrers in January were ;
The Tuckfards
A man called Doc
and
His lovely Wife
My soon to be Golf buddy Schaubs
My favorite Yummy Mummy
“The one and only" Mookie
My “it can’t come fast enough, but we’re gonna drink together soon” friend RIGGSTAD
**UPDATE FOR BANKY**
Funny things happen for funny people.
1) I made it home in "The Storm" in about 1 hr and 13 mins.
2) The first accident I saw on my way home, was at the first stoplight I came to. 2 mins. from "The Quarry."
3) Second accident.... 50 secs. later at the first curve.
4) I have to stop now..... Bladder issues !
5) Advice... Choose wisely when deciding on a driving instructor... or government official to license your young.
I offer my sincerest thanks for taking the time to send someone my way.
And as always,
My sincerest thanks for dropping by….
Friday is like the Spring of the week. Which if you consider it for any length of time, it makes perfect sense despite Friday coming at the end of the week, while Spring is still located at the front of the year. (Got it ?)
Since the weeks are long drawn out affairs, just like Winter can seem at this time of the year, it is natural progression that Friday “Spring” us out of Winters doldrums and right into Summer, which of course is the weekend. As Sunday nights are the perfect time to Fall into bed exhausted from such a great weekend, we’ll say that works there too.
Right then! That ought to cover off Friday.
**EDIT**
Now that you’ve read that, go back and do what I did while (semi)proof reading it. Think of John Cleese saying it as you read it. I think I just created a Python bit. Very cool! Or then again, maybe it’s just me. I do have issues.
19 of our 32 plant workers made it in today. I just have to chuckle. Of the 13 that could not make it in “due to the conditions,” The average distance they live from work is like 8 blocks. I drive in for about an hour everyday, from the North no less and they have issues with what is currently about 15 cms. (6”) of fluffy white stuff. Oh and the driving! That is something you just have to see for yourself to believe. About 50% of Bedrock commutes down here everyday. Yes we occasionally get all piled up on the highway from excessive speed, following too close or worse, the non-commuter driving experiences of Friday’s on a long weekend. But typically the one thing we all have in common is, we’re drivers. Knowing that someone ‘responsible’ actually passed these people as approved to operate 4,000 lbs. of motorized metal, and then seeing these ‘cidiots’ do what they do in a car with a little fresh powder on the ground, well it’s just about enough to either make you swear off of humanity itself, or piss your pants laughing.
I currently am on the fence, but have had a tendency to lean way over to giving up on humanity. In my travels this morning I saw the following;
Along my commute, ( at 100 kph or 63 mph and a drive time of 51 mins)
1 commuter off in the ditch along the highway. ( 2 had stopped to help her out )
Within City limits, ( at 50 kph or 30 mph and a drive time of 9 mins )
3 vehicles backwards up against a light standard. THE SAME LIGHT STANDARD !
9 vehicles randomly stuck up on medians, boulevards and curbs.
7 separate vehicle accidents involving property damage.
1 SUV parked partially inside a coffee shop. (WTF?)
and finally as I stared in utter amazement……
a second SUV drive into the back of the SUV that drove into the coffee shop.
Too much !
As always, I’d like to take a little space up here to say thanks to everyone who drops in. I also offer some very special thanks to those of you kind enough to send the most visitors here last month.
Bam-Bam in Bedrock’s top referrers in January were ;
The Tuckfards
A man called Doc
and
His lovely Wife
My soon to be Golf buddy Schaubs
My favorite Yummy Mummy
“The one and only" Mookie
My “it can’t come fast enough, but we’re gonna drink together soon” friend RIGGSTAD
**UPDATE FOR BANKY**
Funny things happen for funny people.
1) I made it home in "The Storm" in about 1 hr and 13 mins.
2) The first accident I saw on my way home, was at the first stoplight I came to. 2 mins. from "The Quarry."
3) Second accident.... 50 secs. later at the first curve.
4) I have to stop now..... Bladder issues !
5) Advice... Choose wisely when deciding on a driving instructor... or government official to license your young.
I offer my sincerest thanks for taking the time to send someone my way.
And as always,
My sincerest thanks for dropping by….
1/31/2008
HEY IDIOT ! Step away from my mouse....
.
As I try and wrap my head around why I do some of the things that I do to myself, I find it harder and harder to understand. What always makes it worse is, I know I’m the one doing it !
Last night, perfect example. I rushed and rushed to make it in time for The mookie. “Aren’t you tired?” Pebbles asked, as she kissed me good night and headed for Zzz-town. The look in her eye's clearly saying, "look idiot! You played pretty late in The Skillz game last night. You were up and out the door at 4:00am. this morning. You look like hell and should really probably go to sleep."
My response.... "G'nite hun, I love you."
I know, I know.... I have issues. That's what this is all about.
Since I made it back in time, (with an 11 minute cushion!) I hit register for The mookie. The 10:00pm. start has always been an issue for me, what with typically heading off for work by 5:00’ish am. through the week. But The mookie is special to me. My friends are there and I love the feel of the play, the crowd and the chat. I can't wait for some form of remedy to my 79 miles of dial-up issue, so I can get actual BuddyDank coverage instead of the garbled mess I'm forced to listen to now.
I never really expect to get too far in these nightly games, mostly because I have some real issues with focus. I do have a Skillz win, A Riverchasers 2nd. place and multiple final table appearances. But typically, I find myself becoming another player rather than who I really am. I know how to play poker and I understand the importance of paying attention. The problem is that “other player” comes out hard, the split second I let my guard down for even a moment. I don’t know where he comes from exactly but in a late night game, it seems I can always count on him showing up.
The cycle in a late night game through the week, almost always runs like clockwork. For me, it’s as predictable as the sun eventually coming up every single day.
1) Realize how late it is and yet still hit the register button.
2) Try and find a comfortable position and grab a Scotch.
3) Say my hello’s to those friends I can see.
4) Try and play some damn good poker and see what happens.
5) Constantly find myself in a decent position chip wise by first break.
6) Struggle to maintain my position in the game while being easily distracted by anything at all! The chat, the TV, the weather, the Ladybug(?) crawling across the floor etc… etc…. It can be anything at all that has my attention, just not the poker game.
7) Drift off into a relaxing state of donkatuded’ness and let “that guy” handle the mouse until I find myself all-in, with a hand that looks just like a foot.
8) Say G’nite to all my friends and feel embarrassed about my play in the end.
9) Lather, rinse, repeat.
It doesn’t matter lately if it’s The Skillz game, The mookie or Al’s Riverchasers. I can hold on to my poker persona and play the game ½ decent for only so long apparently. I then start to lose focus, do not pay attention and have almost no resemblance to the player that started the game. This never happens to me in a live game. WHY ?
If you asked Carson, DonKaaa, Pebbles or hell, even from the one game I played with Mr. Bankwell and the ever lovely PokerTart and Katitude you could probably ask them. What is the one thing I do at a live game that stands out the most? I’m positive the answer would be focus. That picture Kat posted of me and labeled "card-dead," I know exactly when she took that picture and what I was doing. I was trying to learn something from DonKaaa. Ask him. He'll remember that exact moment too. I've actually had people so annoyed with my study technique when I want information, that they've called a T.D. over to give me a warning. My favorite was at the game with Antonio "The magician" Esfandiari and Phil Laak. I remember "The Uni-Bomber" asking the guy when we were down to the final table, "what, should he get a penalty for staring or something?"
Yes I clown around and I love to chat, but I am never at a loss for words when or where ever I happen to be anyways. But in a live game, I will most definitely know what is going on, who did it, how many times they’ve done it and how they did it each and every time. It's my number one weapon and I use it in full force when I'm on my game.
The challenge I seem to be faced with right now, is transferring that skill over to my MTT on-line poker game. And it seems to me, that I'm struggling with it immensely. I lost focus for two hands last night. IGHN. On Tuesday night, I lost focus on three separate occasions and IGH. I’ve captured around 18-20 hand histories from all of the “big 3” events over the last few weeks and studied them intently for where I went wrong. I can see the point where I know 'what' happened in every one. But I’ll be damned if I can figure out why. Why do I turn from player to idiot? Why is it that I’m continually so profitable at the ‘work’ side of on-line poker? Why don’t I lose interest in the games that I’m winning to make the necessary funds to play in the Blonkaments? Is it the length of the games? Is it the hour that the MTT’s take place? Am I expecting too much out of myself, on far too little sleep? Should I pick and choose an event to play in and give a pass on the other two every week. Am I just plain and simple, not built for the on-line game?
I do have answers for most of the questions above. Length of time should not be an issue. I consider myself, (based solely on actual results) an MTT specialist in a live environment. DonKaaa and I hold our summer game on Thursday’s and they often go on a lot later than any of these Blonkaments do, so time of night and day of the week shouldn’t matter too much at all. I don't know if I can say I'm exactly built for on-line poker or not, but I do manage to sit down for a hour or two here and there and generate the necessary funds required to play in all five weekly games of choice, so I seem to be able to handle my own for the most part.
I have no clue what the solution to my problem is right now.
The good news is this is important to me, so I know I’ll get it figured out.
The bad news is I’m going to continue to look and feel like an idiot until I do.
My sincerest thanks for dropping by....
As I try and wrap my head around why I do some of the things that I do to myself, I find it harder and harder to understand. What always makes it worse is, I know I’m the one doing it !
Last night, perfect example. I rushed and rushed to make it in time for The mookie. “Aren’t you tired?” Pebbles asked, as she kissed me good night and headed for Zzz-town. The look in her eye's clearly saying, "look idiot! You played pretty late in The Skillz game last night. You were up and out the door at 4:00am. this morning. You look like hell and should really probably go to sleep."
My response.... "G'nite hun, I love you."
I know, I know.... I have issues. That's what this is all about.
Since I made it back in time, (with an 11 minute cushion!) I hit register for The mookie. The 10:00pm. start has always been an issue for me, what with typically heading off for work by 5:00’ish am. through the week. But The mookie is special to me. My friends are there and I love the feel of the play, the crowd and the chat. I can't wait for some form of remedy to my 79 miles of dial-up issue, so I can get actual BuddyDank coverage instead of the garbled mess I'm forced to listen to now.
I never really expect to get too far in these nightly games, mostly because I have some real issues with focus. I do have a Skillz win, A Riverchasers 2nd. place and multiple final table appearances. But typically, I find myself becoming another player rather than who I really am. I know how to play poker and I understand the importance of paying attention. The problem is that “other player” comes out hard, the split second I let my guard down for even a moment. I don’t know where he comes from exactly but in a late night game, it seems I can always count on him showing up.
The cycle in a late night game through the week, almost always runs like clockwork. For me, it’s as predictable as the sun eventually coming up every single day.
1) Realize how late it is and yet still hit the register button.
2) Try and find a comfortable position and grab a Scotch.
3) Say my hello’s to those friends I can see.
4) Try and play some damn good poker and see what happens.
5) Constantly find myself in a decent position chip wise by first break.
6) Struggle to maintain my position in the game while being easily distracted by anything at all! The chat, the TV, the weather, the Ladybug(?) crawling across the floor etc… etc…. It can be anything at all that has my attention, just not the poker game.
7) Drift off into a relaxing state of donkatuded’ness and let “that guy” handle the mouse until I find myself all-in, with a hand that looks just like a foot.
8) Say G’nite to all my friends and feel embarrassed about my play in the end.
9) Lather, rinse, repeat.
It doesn’t matter lately if it’s The Skillz game, The mookie or Al’s Riverchasers. I can hold on to my poker persona and play the game ½ decent for only so long apparently. I then start to lose focus, do not pay attention and have almost no resemblance to the player that started the game. This never happens to me in a live game. WHY ?
If you asked Carson, DonKaaa, Pebbles or hell, even from the one game I played with Mr. Bankwell and the ever lovely PokerTart and Katitude you could probably ask them. What is the one thing I do at a live game that stands out the most? I’m positive the answer would be focus. That picture Kat posted of me and labeled "card-dead," I know exactly when she took that picture and what I was doing. I was trying to learn something from DonKaaa. Ask him. He'll remember that exact moment too. I've actually had people so annoyed with my study technique when I want information, that they've called a T.D. over to give me a warning. My favorite was at the game with Antonio "The magician" Esfandiari and Phil Laak. I remember "The Uni-Bomber" asking the guy when we were down to the final table, "what, should he get a penalty for staring or something?"
Yes I clown around and I love to chat, but I am never at a loss for words when or where ever I happen to be anyways. But in a live game, I will most definitely know what is going on, who did it, how many times they’ve done it and how they did it each and every time. It's my number one weapon and I use it in full force when I'm on my game.
The challenge I seem to be faced with right now, is transferring that skill over to my MTT on-line poker game. And it seems to me, that I'm struggling with it immensely. I lost focus for two hands last night. IGHN. On Tuesday night, I lost focus on three separate occasions and IGH. I’ve captured around 18-20 hand histories from all of the “big 3” events over the last few weeks and studied them intently for where I went wrong. I can see the point where I know 'what' happened in every one. But I’ll be damned if I can figure out why. Why do I turn from player to idiot? Why is it that I’m continually so profitable at the ‘work’ side of on-line poker? Why don’t I lose interest in the games that I’m winning to make the necessary funds to play in the Blonkaments? Is it the length of the games? Is it the hour that the MTT’s take place? Am I expecting too much out of myself, on far too little sleep? Should I pick and choose an event to play in and give a pass on the other two every week. Am I just plain and simple, not built for the on-line game?
I do have answers for most of the questions above. Length of time should not be an issue. I consider myself, (based solely on actual results) an MTT specialist in a live environment. DonKaaa and I hold our summer game on Thursday’s and they often go on a lot later than any of these Blonkaments do, so time of night and day of the week shouldn’t matter too much at all. I don't know if I can say I'm exactly built for on-line poker or not, but I do manage to sit down for a hour or two here and there and generate the necessary funds required to play in all five weekly games of choice, so I seem to be able to handle my own for the most part.
I have no clue what the solution to my problem is right now.
The good news is this is important to me, so I know I’ll get it figured out.
The bad news is I’m going to continue to look and feel like an idiot until I do.
My sincerest thanks for dropping by....
1/29/2008
Just for Schaubs, NO POKER TODAY ....
I was well…. ‘A golfer’ back in the day. I’d thought competing for an O.G.A. championship at the age of 28 in front of a crowd of maybe 150 friends and family of the last 8 golfers remaining, was just about the toughest thing I’d ever have to do related to the sport of Golf. Little did I know!
The company I’d worked for at the time was a sister company of a major Import Automobile manufacturer in Marysville and East Liberty, Ohio. In my position, I spent an awful lot of time down in Ohio. Sometimes, 3 weeks out of 5. When it was summer in Ohio, there was only one place for me, Dublin. Central to both factories and a Golf Mecca for any time off I managed to finagle.
I was told about a special event that anyone with enough cash could take place in. Jack’s Memorial Tournament had a Pro-Am that would allow bidders to get involved in an auction, in order to gain entry into it. I was the first person in line and got bidder #3 to go to battle with. (#1 and #2 go to V.I.P.’s every year) The first golfer up, Jack himself! The idea is to set the bar for the charity involved. Great thinking on someone’s part. The bidding was incredible and I figured right then and there, that there was no way I was going to get in. Then came a miracle.
The golfer up for auction was a little known American pro that was probably shorter in height, than he was in recognition. Despite his lack of stature on “the Tour,” his sense of humanity and humour up on that stage, intrigued me in a way that no one else to that point had. The bidding was at an all time low $100. Since the man had my attention and I was prepared to bid up to $600 to play in the event, I bid $250 to shake off any suspects trying to get in free. I took it down. Someone told me that I could have gotten “that guy” for a whole lot less. I didn’t give a shit! I had never heard of him, but I knew I liked the man. I was about to be, Jeff Sluman’s “amateur.” We had a lot of laughs that night, as it seemed that he really appreciated my bumped up bid. I had his word that he’d try his best to win the whole “shebang.” I was willing to work with that. We called ourselves, “Team RESPECTLESS.”
Practice in the morning was beyond incredible. Putting on a Muirfield practice green was a great experience. Having Jack Nicholas line up and read a putt for you, no words can describe it. Having the one golfer you’ve always admired stand beside you and make the same putt with you several times, un-fucking-believable. I made six of ten… He made two. “Maybe I need you to teach me a thing or two.” Is how he made his departure from the green. I was speechless. Absoloutely and un-equivocally speechless.
“Lil’ Slu,” mentioned that we should, “check out your(my) swing.” So we headed off to the range. I’ve never been a big nailin’ Drivers at the range kind of golfer. I totally prefer to hit a few wedges to a few targets closer to the tee. Then I’ll work may way through the bag up to the woods. Once I have a small feel for how I’m hitting them, I’ll pick 6 target lines for the big stick. If I ain’t hitting those 6 shots right then and there, I have no business bringing out the weapon of mass destruction in a pressure situation. That day, I hit all six. I also called my shots to Slu before I did so. “This is going to be a lot of fun Bam!” he said shortly after. Slu stuck 8 in a row within 2’ of the 100 YD shot. “Damn right,” I said. As I backed up to watch Slu’s last wedge to the green, I ran into someone and apologized for not paying attention. “You again!” was the response. Followed by a manly handshake, as he took my arm and guided my hand into his. “No problem Mr. Canadian. Great accent and some great shots you hit there. Love your practice routine bud. Look’s like you got a live one there Slu. Guess we’re gunning for you today. Glad we’re right behind you. I can keep an eye on you two from there.”
“Don’t let him get to you. He’s sincere with his compliments and a hell of a nice guy.” Said Slu. “He’s one of my three heroes,” was what came out of my mouth. Slu stared at me for a second or two and asked, “who else?” “Dale Earnhardt and Paul Molitor.” I replied. “Holy shit! That’s some damn fine selections man.” He said.
Standing on the first tee and looking at the shot required is a daunting task in itself. Doing it with about 500 people lining the tee-blocks, is something else all together. I felt the presence immediately. It might have been the incredible amount of cheering and clapping that had started to make a thunderous noise at the time, or it could have been the fact that I’d grown accustomed to his presence from our earlier encounters. I just knew he was there. With his hand on my shoulders and using a calming and firm but comforting voice, “right down the middle like you did on the practice range. Make me beat you today Canadian.” Was the advice I’d heard. I lined up, caught my breathe and fired one of the best drives of my life straight down the center. A 5 to 6 yard draw that ran and ran. “Cripes man, I was only kidding!” came from behind me, as I started to walk off the tee.
Slu and I finished a respectable 2nd. that day. Had I not had a moment on the 13th. green that cost us a team birdie, at the same time that Slu had issues getting up and down, we could have at least tied for the win. One bad stroke each and on the same hole, it happens.
I walked into a little franchise-like place called Damon’s in Dublin. I immediately noticed the guy at the table in the bar area. It was him. I didn’t take advantage of my time with him when I had the chance earlier. Damn if I’m going to waste this opportunity now. “Mr. Stewart? I was wondering if you’d allow me to buy you a beer for everything I’ve ever enjoyed watching you do? I asked. With a devil’ish and quite humourous grin in his smile and eyes, he responded with this little gem. “Let me get this straight Mr. Canadian. You kicked my ass on the course, the range and the practice green…. And now you want to buy a millionaire a beer? Is that right?
We sat for hours discussing anything but golf, politics, religion or money. We were joined by his good friend Peter Jacobson. It was a drink, turned to a dinner, turned to a night out with the boys. Payne and Peter signed well over 500 autographs each and posed for no less than 100 photo’s with fans. (I’m in at least 75 of those!) It was a display of sportsmanship and professionalism that I will never forget. They gave of their time freely and not once, for even a second, did they appear the slightest bit upset at someone asking for piece of their time. I asked Payne if it ever got tiring or annoying. He said, “I’m the luckiest man in the world. Someone out there cares who I am. How can I get pissed about that? Why would I?”
I had an early morning planned and needed to make my way to the hotel. I planned to walk because heading over there, I already knew alcohol would be a factor. When you travel as much as I do, it happens on a regular basis. The hotel was a short 4 minute walk. I said my good-byes and thank you’s and left with one final, comment. “I took a great picture of you today Payne. It was as you were watching that shot you hit to 6” from about 119 YDS away on #12. I had Black & White film in the camera when I heard you’d be in the group behind me. I like the Classic look and that’s how I see you. A Classic.”
As I approached the hotel entrance, there was a figure sitting on the bench just outside. It was Payne. He typically stayed with The Bueter’s while in Columbus for the Memorial. That night, he created a “pass” to stay with me until I’d had enough. Sitting there with a six-pack and a smile or two, it became 3:00am in a hurry. I’d been in the presence of a master of humanity. A master of humanity with a swing as smooth a silk. The golf didn’t matter though. The man did.
I love my golf. It just hasn’t been the same since he passed.
That picture still graces the wall right in front of me now. There’s several others around the room as well. They serve to remind me of what a special time I had with a true professional and gentleman of the game. I don’t really need reminders, but they bring on the feelings more frequently as I age and require a little help.
Today’s golfers would do well to follow in Payne’s footsteps as they go along. Having a charity tournament and still taking first place cash, is a far cry from donating 100% of your 1st. place cheque to charity on not only your first professional win, but several others afterwards. Yelling at a kid, dressed in all of your Nike souvenir garb as he tells you what a great shot he thinks you just hit, is a far cry from signing over 2,300 autographs after your second U.S.Open Championship win.
I’m a golfer, I’ve got nothing against Tiger. The man has mad skills with a club and ball for certain. Probably the best pure golfer there ever has been as judged by results, swing and championship titles. No doubt about it. History could start to consider him “un-touchable” as far as someone coming along to dethrone him. But didn’t they say that about Jack, and Arnie before him. Oh… then there was Hogan, Nelson, Sneed and others before them.
But as for the total package, Tiger is a mere shadow of those that came before him. A weapon created by his Father to succeed. Nothing more but many, many things less. A media dream that needs that same media to turn off the microphones and tape delay his reactions to certain activities due to his so called “personality.” I’m not a hypocrite; I know Payne had his moments early in his career. But they were seriously short lived. He was, (as explained to me that night) confused between the difference of any attention and some deserving attention. A man’s statement, if I’d ever heard one.
IMHO... That beats the hell out of, “You! Get him kicked out. The little fucker said something in my swing.”
My sincerest thanks for stopping by….
The company I’d worked for at the time was a sister company of a major Import Automobile manufacturer in Marysville and East Liberty, Ohio. In my position, I spent an awful lot of time down in Ohio. Sometimes, 3 weeks out of 5. When it was summer in Ohio, there was only one place for me, Dublin. Central to both factories and a Golf Mecca for any time off I managed to finagle.
I was told about a special event that anyone with enough cash could take place in. Jack’s Memorial Tournament had a Pro-Am that would allow bidders to get involved in an auction, in order to gain entry into it. I was the first person in line and got bidder #3 to go to battle with. (#1 and #2 go to V.I.P.’s every year) The first golfer up, Jack himself! The idea is to set the bar for the charity involved. Great thinking on someone’s part. The bidding was incredible and I figured right then and there, that there was no way I was going to get in. Then came a miracle.
The golfer up for auction was a little known American pro that was probably shorter in height, than he was in recognition. Despite his lack of stature on “the Tour,” his sense of humanity and humour up on that stage, intrigued me in a way that no one else to that point had. The bidding was at an all time low $100. Since the man had my attention and I was prepared to bid up to $600 to play in the event, I bid $250 to shake off any suspects trying to get in free. I took it down. Someone told me that I could have gotten “that guy” for a whole lot less. I didn’t give a shit! I had never heard of him, but I knew I liked the man. I was about to be, Jeff Sluman’s “amateur.” We had a lot of laughs that night, as it seemed that he really appreciated my bumped up bid. I had his word that he’d try his best to win the whole “shebang.” I was willing to work with that. We called ourselves, “Team RESPECTLESS.”
Practice in the morning was beyond incredible. Putting on a Muirfield practice green was a great experience. Having Jack Nicholas line up and read a putt for you, no words can describe it. Having the one golfer you’ve always admired stand beside you and make the same putt with you several times, un-fucking-believable. I made six of ten… He made two. “Maybe I need you to teach me a thing or two.” Is how he made his departure from the green. I was speechless. Absoloutely and un-equivocally speechless.
“Lil’ Slu,” mentioned that we should, “check out your(my) swing.” So we headed off to the range. I’ve never been a big nailin’ Drivers at the range kind of golfer. I totally prefer to hit a few wedges to a few targets closer to the tee. Then I’ll work may way through the bag up to the woods. Once I have a small feel for how I’m hitting them, I’ll pick 6 target lines for the big stick. If I ain’t hitting those 6 shots right then and there, I have no business bringing out the weapon of mass destruction in a pressure situation. That day, I hit all six. I also called my shots to Slu before I did so. “This is going to be a lot of fun Bam!” he said shortly after. Slu stuck 8 in a row within 2’ of the 100 YD shot. “Damn right,” I said. As I backed up to watch Slu’s last wedge to the green, I ran into someone and apologized for not paying attention. “You again!” was the response. Followed by a manly handshake, as he took my arm and guided my hand into his. “No problem Mr. Canadian. Great accent and some great shots you hit there. Love your practice routine bud. Look’s like you got a live one there Slu. Guess we’re gunning for you today. Glad we’re right behind you. I can keep an eye on you two from there.”
“Don’t let him get to you. He’s sincere with his compliments and a hell of a nice guy.” Said Slu. “He’s one of my three heroes,” was what came out of my mouth. Slu stared at me for a second or two and asked, “who else?” “Dale Earnhardt and Paul Molitor.” I replied. “Holy shit! That’s some damn fine selections man.” He said.
Standing on the first tee and looking at the shot required is a daunting task in itself. Doing it with about 500 people lining the tee-blocks, is something else all together. I felt the presence immediately. It might have been the incredible amount of cheering and clapping that had started to make a thunderous noise at the time, or it could have been the fact that I’d grown accustomed to his presence from our earlier encounters. I just knew he was there. With his hand on my shoulders and using a calming and firm but comforting voice, “right down the middle like you did on the practice range. Make me beat you today Canadian.” Was the advice I’d heard. I lined up, caught my breathe and fired one of the best drives of my life straight down the center. A 5 to 6 yard draw that ran and ran. “Cripes man, I was only kidding!” came from behind me, as I started to walk off the tee.
Slu and I finished a respectable 2nd. that day. Had I not had a moment on the 13th. green that cost us a team birdie, at the same time that Slu had issues getting up and down, we could have at least tied for the win. One bad stroke each and on the same hole, it happens.
I walked into a little franchise-like place called Damon’s in Dublin. I immediately noticed the guy at the table in the bar area. It was him. I didn’t take advantage of my time with him when I had the chance earlier. Damn if I’m going to waste this opportunity now. “Mr. Stewart? I was wondering if you’d allow me to buy you a beer for everything I’ve ever enjoyed watching you do? I asked. With a devil’ish and quite humourous grin in his smile and eyes, he responded with this little gem. “Let me get this straight Mr. Canadian. You kicked my ass on the course, the range and the practice green…. And now you want to buy a millionaire a beer? Is that right?
We sat for hours discussing anything but golf, politics, religion or money. We were joined by his good friend Peter Jacobson. It was a drink, turned to a dinner, turned to a night out with the boys. Payne and Peter signed well over 500 autographs each and posed for no less than 100 photo’s with fans. (I’m in at least 75 of those!) It was a display of sportsmanship and professionalism that I will never forget. They gave of their time freely and not once, for even a second, did they appear the slightest bit upset at someone asking for piece of their time. I asked Payne if it ever got tiring or annoying. He said, “I’m the luckiest man in the world. Someone out there cares who I am. How can I get pissed about that? Why would I?”
I had an early morning planned and needed to make my way to the hotel. I planned to walk because heading over there, I already knew alcohol would be a factor. When you travel as much as I do, it happens on a regular basis. The hotel was a short 4 minute walk. I said my good-byes and thank you’s and left with one final, comment. “I took a great picture of you today Payne. It was as you were watching that shot you hit to 6” from about 119 YDS away on #12. I had Black & White film in the camera when I heard you’d be in the group behind me. I like the Classic look and that’s how I see you. A Classic.”
As I approached the hotel entrance, there was a figure sitting on the bench just outside. It was Payne. He typically stayed with The Bueter’s while in Columbus for the Memorial. That night, he created a “pass” to stay with me until I’d had enough. Sitting there with a six-pack and a smile or two, it became 3:00am in a hurry. I’d been in the presence of a master of humanity. A master of humanity with a swing as smooth a silk. The golf didn’t matter though. The man did.
I love my golf. It just hasn’t been the same since he passed.
That picture still graces the wall right in front of me now. There’s several others around the room as well. They serve to remind me of what a special time I had with a true professional and gentleman of the game. I don’t really need reminders, but they bring on the feelings more frequently as I age and require a little help.
Today’s golfers would do well to follow in Payne’s footsteps as they go along. Having a charity tournament and still taking first place cash, is a far cry from donating 100% of your 1st. place cheque to charity on not only your first professional win, but several others afterwards. Yelling at a kid, dressed in all of your Nike souvenir garb as he tells you what a great shot he thinks you just hit, is a far cry from signing over 2,300 autographs after your second U.S.Open Championship win.
I’m a golfer, I’ve got nothing against Tiger. The man has mad skills with a club and ball for certain. Probably the best pure golfer there ever has been as judged by results, swing and championship titles. No doubt about it. History could start to consider him “un-touchable” as far as someone coming along to dethrone him. But didn’t they say that about Jack, and Arnie before him. Oh… then there was Hogan, Nelson, Sneed and others before them.
But as for the total package, Tiger is a mere shadow of those that came before him. A weapon created by his Father to succeed. Nothing more but many, many things less. A media dream that needs that same media to turn off the microphones and tape delay his reactions to certain activities due to his so called “personality.” I’m not a hypocrite; I know Payne had his moments early in his career. But they were seriously short lived. He was, (as explained to me that night) confused between the difference of any attention and some deserving attention. A man’s statement, if I’d ever heard one.
IMHO... That beats the hell out of, “You! Get him kicked out. The little fucker said something in my swing.”
My sincerest thanks for stopping by….
1/28/2008
Just A tad bored.....
.
Well….. Pebbles busted out of the TuckFard Open fairly early. Not before Riggstad, Al and a few others….. but early. That meant we,
( the royal weeeeeeeeeeee) were just a touch bored and needed to do sumpin’. S.A.C.H. decided that a little H.O.R.S.E. would be the right thing to do.
With 79 miles of dial-up…. I signed on with Peb’s account. No time for a changeover. (heh) Wife money = free money !
So I got in. It was Me, Al, Riggs, Ski, the BWoP, the Demon and ? (x2) If I know you and whiffed….. sorry. Forgive me…. I’m an old drunk.
As you can see, it started with me folding trip Ducks... and went downhill from there.
In Hold ‘Em, I then folded top two pair, for obvious reasons.
Yes I had no clubs and YES.... I'm a schmuck...... and YES ! I know what that means and I know I have your attention CK ! LOL ((hugs))
The Demon's comments that you can see, were just a tad miss-leading. As Riggs showed his pair of K’s… without a club. w00000t !
5 Handed, (and right after taking out my fav AJ, with great regret and remorse, and a shitload of ((hugs)) ) The good Sir folded his small blind in favour of a potential SoCo on yours truly. It’s in the bank ! The man kept me alive for another hand.
I then ran a pocket pair of 9’s into the BB....... and surprise! IGHN ! Four handed 9’s are no goot ! I made Pebble’s bubble girl and cost her $. I don’t know how…………. But I’ll make it up. I promise !
In the end, S.A.C.H. took the fun Fooker down.
It was by far…………….. The best $2.25 I’ve ever owed my wife.
Thanks kids !
My sincerest thanks for dropping by….
Well….. Pebbles busted out of the TuckFard Open fairly early. Not before Riggstad, Al and a few others….. but early. That meant we,
( the royal weeeeeeeeeeee) were just a touch bored and needed to do sumpin’. S.A.C.H. decided that a little H.O.R.S.E. would be the right thing to do.
With 79 miles of dial-up…. I signed on with Peb’s account. No time for a changeover. (heh) Wife money = free money !
So I got in. It was Me, Al, Riggs, Ski, the BWoP, the Demon and ? (x2) If I know you and whiffed….. sorry. Forgive me…. I’m an old drunk.
As you can see, it started with me folding trip Ducks... and went downhill from there.
In Hold ‘Em, I then folded top two pair, for obvious reasons.
Yes I had no clubs and YES.... I'm a schmuck...... and YES ! I know what that means and I know I have your attention CK ! LOL ((hugs))
The Demon's comments that you can see, were just a tad miss-leading. As Riggs showed his pair of K’s… without a club. w00000t !
5 Handed, (and right after taking out my fav AJ, with great regret and remorse, and a shitload of ((hugs)) ) The good Sir folded his small blind in favour of a potential SoCo on yours truly. It’s in the bank ! The man kept me alive for another hand.
I then ran a pocket pair of 9’s into the BB....... and surprise! IGHN ! Four handed 9’s are no goot ! I made Pebble’s bubble girl and cost her $. I don’t know how…………. But I’ll make it up. I promise !
In the end, S.A.C.H. took the fun Fooker down.
It was by far…………….. The best $2.25 I’ve ever owed my wife.
Thanks kids !
My sincerest thanks for dropping by….
1/27/2008
TuckFards invade Kat's place ....
As brudder Carson has mentioned several times in the past, Kat’s Friday night Donkament has become a staple for the TuckFard core group. There are really two reasons for this. First, it’s Kat for Pete’s sake! Who wouldn’t want to spend a little time with this lovely vision on a Friday night? (Even if it is some invisible virtual time) Secondly, the format and the core group, (which is getting bigger and better every week!) is a great group of invisible blogger friends having an hour or so of the perfect THERAPY™ from some of the much more serious games through the week.
I started out with several pushes with crap and mid- to near crap hands. Between Kat and I, I think we won two total races in the first 16 times we pushed. Then we started hitting a little bit better after I did my rounds to say hello to everyone I knew that was playing. This was a good thing. Just before the add-on, I had managed to build a semi-decent stack. It was pretty un-eventful from that point, up until second break. I managed to make a couple chips with a few decent starter hands that hit pretty well on the flop. That put me in good shape starting up the 3rd. segment. I was sitting in 6th. With DonKaaa just behind me and the lovely Suzy_Q atop the standings.
Then came the major turning point, where I avoided going broke. You know what they say, “It’s not the hands you win that make the biggest difference, It’s the hands you don’t lose.” This was the best of my three examples.
After Hoy’s push there and Fishiswa’s insta-call, I thought out the hand for a bit. I made my mind up that I was probably against A-K in Hoy’s hand, and J-x being held by Fishiswa. I let the hand go. Hoy flipped up the twin Q-K that I was holding and Fishiswa did in fact have the J. Goooooot fold me. Hoy is done.
The second was that hand above. I've just been having a hard time letting go of second pairs. I made my mind up to let go of this one too. It was a good choice. Then I threw away a pocket pair of 10's. The play of the others and the "feel" were all wrong. I apologize to all for using every second of my clock. It was hard for me to click fold.
With top pair, an OESD and flush draw to my J, I pushed after a raise from DonKaaa that totaled about half my stack. We were about even in chips as I had about 83 chips shy of his stack. I put him on a draw of some kind and thought my chances of winning were 80/20 and possibly chopping with say a straight draw were 50/50. Seemed reasonable to make the play to me. I was fairly accurate in my read. DonKaaa was currently dominated by my hand and was on a draw. Problem was, it was the same flush draw that I had. Mine to J high, his to Q high. We rivered the flush and IGHN. That was a huge blow to how my game was actually going along. I made good plays, I made good decisions and I busted out after getting my stack in good. What do they call that again?
Oh yeah….. Poker.
Well now it's Sunday morning and Pebbles and I are getting ready to go out and represent Team TuckFard in our 20 week team challenge at the hall. I've been top points getter for two weeks now with a win and a second place finish. I want to keep that streak alive. After missing several weeks, I'm climbing up the individual points standings. But more important than that, I want to help the team. After so many of them were not able to make it to Vegas in December with Peb's and I, I'll do damn near anything to win the Vegas trip prize offered in this event, to get them there with us for the W.S.O.P.
My sincerest thanks for dropping by….
I started out with several pushes with crap and mid- to near crap hands. Between Kat and I, I think we won two total races in the first 16 times we pushed. Then we started hitting a little bit better after I did my rounds to say hello to everyone I knew that was playing. This was a good thing. Just before the add-on, I had managed to build a semi-decent stack. It was pretty un-eventful from that point, up until second break. I managed to make a couple chips with a few decent starter hands that hit pretty well on the flop. That put me in good shape starting up the 3rd. segment. I was sitting in 6th. With DonKaaa just behind me and the lovely Suzy_Q atop the standings.
Then came the major turning point, where I avoided going broke. You know what they say, “It’s not the hands you win that make the biggest difference, It’s the hands you don’t lose.” This was the best of my three examples.
After Hoy’s push there and Fishiswa’s insta-call, I thought out the hand for a bit. I made my mind up that I was probably against A-K in Hoy’s hand, and J-x being held by Fishiswa. I let the hand go. Hoy flipped up the twin Q-K that I was holding and Fishiswa did in fact have the J. Goooooot fold me. Hoy is done.
The second was that hand above. I've just been having a hard time letting go of second pairs. I made my mind up to let go of this one too. It was a good choice. Then I threw away a pocket pair of 10's. The play of the others and the "feel" were all wrong. I apologize to all for using every second of my clock. It was hard for me to click fold.
With top pair, an OESD and flush draw to my J, I pushed after a raise from DonKaaa that totaled about half my stack. We were about even in chips as I had about 83 chips shy of his stack. I put him on a draw of some kind and thought my chances of winning were 80/20 and possibly chopping with say a straight draw were 50/50. Seemed reasonable to make the play to me. I was fairly accurate in my read. DonKaaa was currently dominated by my hand and was on a draw. Problem was, it was the same flush draw that I had. Mine to J high, his to Q high. We rivered the flush and IGHN. That was a huge blow to how my game was actually going along. I made good plays, I made good decisions and I busted out after getting my stack in good. What do they call that again?
Oh yeah….. Poker.
Well now it's Sunday morning and Pebbles and I are getting ready to go out and represent Team TuckFard in our 20 week team challenge at the hall. I've been top points getter for two weeks now with a win and a second place finish. I want to keep that streak alive. After missing several weeks, I'm climbing up the individual points standings. But more important than that, I want to help the team. After so many of them were not able to make it to Vegas in December with Peb's and I, I'll do damn near anything to win the Vegas trip prize offered in this event, to get them there with us for the W.S.O.P.
My sincerest thanks for dropping by….
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