NFL Thoughts - Week 16

I'm sitting here right now, with the rest of my household taking a Sunday afternoon nap. Christmas shopping is done, so we don't have any need for the self-punishing experience of a last minute trip to Target or Kroger.

* Colts vs. Texans. Colts' defensive player was just called for a personal foul (15 yards) for a horse-collar tackle. Dungy ran out onto the field, arguing the call and pleading his case with referee (oh, and lawyer) Ed Hochuli. Now, I like Tony Dungy. But come on. The play resulted in Houston having the ball on the Indy 44. With 3 minutes left in the 1st half, your team is up by 17 points. At home. In typical Hochuli fashion, the call was explained quite well ("does not matter whether [the player] goes down forward or backward, by rule, that's a 15 yd penalty") and Tony D was seen continually professing his player's innocence. I'm sure he would say it's just the competitive nature of the game, but this call cost your team absolutely nothing in a game whose importance rivals that of the intra-squad scrimmage in early August.

* Titans vs Jets. The Titans are formally listed as "in the hunt" for a playoff spot, but that entails running the table the rest of the way, as well as certain other teams losing. Oh yeah, did I mention that next week, we play the freakin Colts, at home?!? I suppose it's a winnable game(especially if Indy rests the big names for the playoffs), but I'm just not sure if I want us to make it. After losing some of the games we did this year, I don't think we deserve the playoff spot. And I really think a playoff game would prove ugly, and would just prolong the agony. We don't have a Super Bowl-caliber team, and we're just not ready to play the likes of Indy or New England and make it a game. Remember the Bengals game? Update: The Bengals are currently down 19-0, so a win today keeps us in the hunt. We'll see.

* Packers vs Bears. Temps in the teens with a subzero wind chill. I just can't imagine.

* Fantasy. I'm out of the money in my league (PayDay or Monopoly money, of course....I don't remember which). But I am playing for 1st place of the "consolation bracket", which is 5th and 6 place out of 10. Today, here's who I need to do well (Kurt "I used to be a grocery boy" Warner, Marshawn Lynch, Ocho Cinco, Aaron "I can't believe I'm getting touches behind Deuce and Reggie" Stecker, Adrian "the one in Purple" Peterson, and my sentimental players Titans ST/D and Rob Bironas. 2/3 of my opponent's players are either Eagles or Colts, so he's taking the "all of my eggs in one basket" approach.

Twas the Weeks Before Christmas

It was a very busy week for us, primarily because Leah had church choir obligations leading up to two performances this weekend. 2-hour rehearsals were scheduled for Mon-Thur, although Leah blew off Tuesday's in favor of her company Christmas party. Thursday's was actually cancelled, but she still had to be at church before 5:00PM Saturday and Sunday for 6:00 performances. Oh yeah, and she also sang in the first 2 of our 3 Sunday morning worship services this morning, all of which can be quite draining for someone that's almost halfway through a pregnancy!

But the production was very enjoyable and included a couple of my favorite soloists who sometimes sing during 'regular' worship. What can I say?...they can sing, and I can't. There's nothing like an incredibly uplifting and powerful song sung by a beautiful voice.

I can't really do any of these folks justice by talking about it, but here are the last couple of minutes of one of the numbers. Pardon the quality (or lack thereof), but keep in mind that this was shot with a Canon still-camera that happens to have video capability. Action News 5, I ain't. That's my cousin Steve, but wait, he hung up his camera, but you get the point.

Meeting a Legend

There I was, flipping radio channels one day while I was going to lunch. New to our area is the jewelry store Jared and their ubiquitous commercials. But this one caught my attention: "Meet former Titans running back Eddie George December 1 at Jared." Holy cow! No longer is my Titan fanatic-dom limited to Titans caravan autographs from virtual unknowns like Chris Sanders, John Thornton, Troy Fleming, and Tyrone Calico (who says, "That's my favorite player...he's an underappreciated defensive tackle" anyway?).

It worked out great, as Nicholas spent the night with my mom the night before and Leah had early morning choir practice in preparation for the Christmas program. What shall I do with my extra time? Leah and I actually hit Dick's Sporting Goods (another new addition to our area) for something sign-worthy for #27. I just didn't want his autograph to be thrown in with the crowd on the mini-helmet that I already have.

I arrived at the store about an hour and 15 minutes ahead of the posted start time, and there were already a handful of people there. But the store hadn't even set up a table or established a place for the event, so a line really had not formed yet. So I figured I do them the courtesy of at least looking at jewelry lest they label me some shallow, sports-minded freak who was just using their facility as an autograph venue. I did find something that Leah would like, and being that Christmas and Leah's birthday are conveniently located 18 days apart, I have ample opportunity to go back, I suppose.

I ended up 5th or 6th in line when it finally formed. No big deal. In front of me was the girlfriend or wife of somebody that worked at the store, along with some goofy Ohio State alumni folks, one of which was in his sixties, had white-haired sideburns that screamed "Elvis" and whose Ohio State National Champs T-shirt was about 2 sizes too small. And one guy that kinda showed up after the line was already formed but knew them so thus he claimed his place close to the front, kinda pushing the envelope a bit for the unspoken autograph line etiquette.

Standard rules applied--one autograph per person. A stack of 8x10 color photographs was available for those clueless or unprepared folks who wanted him to sign their left nipple or something. The 8x10's even had the authentic NFL hologram sticker, as well as converted Avery mailing labels that said, "Jared--the Galleria of Jewelry." Marketing people...geez!

Anyway, here's my proof. I met Ed-die, Ed-die....welcomed him to Memphis, and told him I'd buy his dinner if we were hit Corky's down the street. I guess he was too busy.

Tell Me About Your Fantasy

Well, this year I'm losing my Fantasy virginity. Fantasy Football, that is. I guess I've never really felt the need to go out looking for a league to join, and working with a bunch of women at both Blockbuster and CPS leaves little chance of an office competition. But this year, a couple of friends and several of their friends/relatives/coworkers twice removed had a spot open and I said I'd join. Mike (husband of Stacy, co-worker and close friend of Leah) played in this league last year and repeatedly said stuff like, "It's a lot of fun...You ought to play next year" and went on to tell me how it makes you interested in more teams than just one, and how you can root for opposing things in the same game and all of that.

So, I'm now in a 10-person league, fielding a team called the "Runswith Scissors". Winner of the fantasy Super Bowl gets $150, and consolation prize is $50. If you do the math, you'll see that I'm basically spending 20 bucks to talk smack and probably get picked on by everybody else. But maybe not.

So here are my starters, or at least, who I drafted first to primarily be my starters. Hopefully they'll take me home to glory by early January.

QB - Vince Young, Titans
RB - Larry Johnson, Chiefs
RB - Reggie Bush, Aints
RB - Marshawn Lynch, Bills
WR - Chad Johnson, Bengals
WR - Hines Ward, Steelers
TE - Tony Gonzalez, Chiefs
DE/ST - Chargers
K - Jeff Wilkins, Rams

Good gosh, this thing is serious business. CBS and ESPN both had Fantasy Football specials that I know of, and there might've been others. I counted at least 4 or 5 magazines at Kroger one night dedicated only to Fantasy Football. The likes of Hooters and Buffalo Wild Wings openly market to Fantasy leagues to host their draft party there (which obviously translates to $$$). There are still articles being written on ESPN about teams ease of schedule and how it affects Fantasy scheduling and all of that. I won't show all my cards here in case some of my competition happens upon this blog, but while I don't exactly have visions for hoisting the virtual trophy, I hope that I do well enough to enjoy it and learn from my mistakes.

Blame Game

Gosh, how I hate our culture where everybody makes themselves feel better by pointing the finger and saying, "But it's their fault!" You know, the "if McDonald's wasn't selling those Big Macs, my 8-year old wouldn't weigh 120 lbs" kind of thing.

The latest of which is the tragedy of the Virginia Tech shootings, where some introverted and disturbed young man kills a bunch of people and then, in typical gutless fashion, takes his own life. So now we must have answers! We must create panels and focus groups and spend lots of cash so that we can somehow feel better about blaming somebody.

My take is this: There is ONE person responsible for all of this, and he's now dead. Period. End of discussion. All this crap about "If the university had acted sooner...." is hogwash. I'm sure that VT and lots of universities have lots of things to learn from this tragedy, but you had a sicko mind who probably would've stopped at nothing until he finished doing what he set out to accomplish. The university has even said that a campus-wide "lockdown" would've been impractical and impossible....after all, this isn't your neighborhood elementary school. What would've kept this guy from going to the library or campus eatery or university center or bookstore and doing the same thing that he did in that academics building? Nothing, that's what.

Let's imagine for second that for some strange reason, VT had the cell phone numbers of every student on campus, queued up and ready to go in some super-duper text-messaging software. The freak kills his first two victims, and then the text message goes out to stay in your dorm or whatever because there's been an "incident". What about those people that think it's an isolated incident? Or those whose cell phones are plugged up charging or on vibrate at the bottom of the backback? Or simply didn't believe there was cause for concern? Same with email. You're trying to tell me that every potential target on that campus would've gotten an email within 2 hours of it being sent?

And how many times in these stories have we heard about him being mentally disturbed, but the same news article is forced to use the term "privacy laws." Heck, we now live in a world where a potential employer can't even ask, "What kind of employee was he/she?" to a former boss. I'm not saying that privacy laws are bad, but if wanna keep up this "You will not share this type of information for any reason" thing, then there will be one-off situations like this where the policy caused undesirable circumstances.

This event was a tragedy on all fronts. But it wasn't the fault of the gun shop, the university, the Dean, or anybody else any more than it would be ADT's fault for not more aggressively attempting to sell me an alarm system should my house get broken into.

Couldn't Have Said It Better Myself

Many who know me know that I recently had a foray into motorcycling. Recently sold the bike since it was an expendable, expensive toy. But I'm rather certain I'll own another.

Why do I ride? Yes, there are the stereotypes, and the obvious (and true) factors. You're more vulnerable. Less protected than in a 'cage' that a vehicle provides. But in my opinion, being aware of surroundings and respecting the bike and your abilities all make you a better rider. We're not all wheelie-popping 20-something showoffs who ride to impress (although it IS said that bikes are chick-magnets! LOL).

But really, why do riders ride? The following was written by a forum/message-board member who I didn't know and will never meet. Someone who passed away unexpectedly in 2004. I bet you're saying, "Ahhh...that bike got him...another fatality because those things are, after all, called 'donor-cycles.'" Nope. You see, he passed away at the age of 43 after having a cortizone shot. In his back. Doctor went too far with the needle. Had the shot on a Friday, had excruciating pain on Saturday, and on Sunday decided that something was desperately wrong and he was gonna go back to the doctor. He died on Monday. You know, I bet that he's glad he rode. Wasn't thinking about how dangerous it is, or how selfish he was being by throwing one leg over an 800 cc bike.

So for those who have ever wondered why people ride, I offer the words of the late Zane Schroeder.

Friday night, 11 o'clock. Crazy time to ride, but I wanted to feel the cold air on my face, needed to think. So I needed to ride. Kids were playing video games and oldest daughter was online and chatting with friends. Hell, they wouldn't even really know I was gone, but I told them I'd be back in a bit. Go out to Black Beauty, I swear she could tell we were gonna go out. Have to apply a little choke since I haven't rejetted and it was 50 degrees or so, I remind myself to check into buying the kit. Briman told me what to get. With a couple minutes warm up as I tied on my doo rag, cleaned the clear night glasses, pull on my gloves, a quick check of the bike and off I go. She sounds good tonight. The cold air smells good. Smells like nights in the country when I was a kid. It's amazing the power smells have to make you remember. Things that you haven't thought about in 20, 30, or more years come screaming back into your mind just from some molecules mixed in air. Riding on West Rd I pull up to the light at Hwy 6, hear some laughter, and look over to see a car full of teenage girls. I'm the age of their fathers, but they seemed to think the bike, or the image of a biker, were cool. I nodded and they giggled. I smiled. I like being that guy. Light turns so I headed out down Hwy 6 south........not going anywhere, just going. That's why we ride. Yeah, we ride when we "HAVE" to go somewhere, have to ride in to work, have to ride here because we're supposed to meet someone, have to ride there for some other reason, but the real reason, is to just ride. It's not that destination, it's that ride. Just like life. The destination isn't what we focus on. We focus on "the ride". The "Journey", or as Garth said, "the Dance". So I ride. Now, my mind is slowly being emptied. The stress is leaving, with each exhale, more and more leaves. Not all at once, not instantly, but it's leaving, I can feel it going. I stop in the left lane at a light and in the mirror, I see another bike. He pulls up next to me, in the middle lane. It's a Harley. Looks like a pretty new Night Train, Wide Glide, something along those lines with the skinny front tire, but man does it sound good. I think to myself (and it's been discussed here many times) that I could spend 600 bucks on RoadHouse pipes (or any other pipes for that matter), and my Vol would never sound like that. He looks like a biker. I wonder if I look like that to other bikers. I mean......I have my doo rag on, leather jacket, leather gloves, motorcycle boots, but do I look like a biker? Does it matter? I have to admit, to a part of me inside, yes it does. It does matter that I look the part. I notice he's got a Jesse James type cap on and nod as I looked over and I think, what the hell, and I give him a thumbs up as if to say, "I ride a bike, but I am not afraid to say I think you're bike is way cool". He smiles. He understands sign language. No one else is at the light so I tell him I wished my Volusia sounded like his Harley. He laughs and says it could, and I responded that all it took was money, he smiles and nods. Light turns green and we ride off. I look in my mirror, and he's coming over behind me. The Harley, letting the Volusia take the lead. What's he thinking? Is he just waiting for his time, and then he'll accelerate his Harley, having almost double the engine my Vol's got, and then pass me in contempt? I decide I don't care, I didn't come out to ride seeking a Harley riders approval, I came out to ride because I didn't want to think about stuff. I just wanted to ride. We're moving pretty good now, so I take the left side of the lane, he the right. He's riding right in the mirror so I can see he's there. Staying safely back, but letting me know he's there in case we need to move over. Air is colder here, there's fewer buildings, and more land. More trees. More green, and it's cooler over the land, than over the pavement. We need more green, although we have to have the pavement if we're gonna ride. I'll think more about that later. We go from light to light, changing lanes and passing a slow car, changing lanes again to pass a truck that had terrible exhaust. He's right there. Staying right where he's supposed to, but he's still letting the Volusia lead. The Suzuki is leading the Harley, and he's not too proud to let that happen. He's here for that ride too. Not for anything else. We run 65 mph down Hwy 6 after Groschke or whatever that road is called all the way to I-10. That feels good......the cold air..........I can feel it on my face and it's cold, but that makes me feel alive. I can feel my face cold, but I can feel. I'm not numb. Our lives make us numb. We get up, make coffee, shower, go to work, make a living, go home do husband and dad things and go to bed. The next day, repeat. Numb. It makes us numb. Is he thinking about being numb? Does his life make him feel numb sometimes? When the cold air makes my face cold, when my mind wanders and I think back, and remember a memory from years ago, simply because of something I smell, I'm not numb anymore. Yep, he's still there. We pull up to the feeder road of I-10, downshift, slow a little, downshift again, I really like the way drilled pipes sound downshifting.......I hear that single-pin cranked Harley gurgle and rumble as he downshifts as well and we both come to a stop. I'm alive. So alive. This ride is exactly what I needed. I look over at the Harley Dude, he's smiling. He knows. To top it off, he knows more. More than I give him credit for. Knows more that I give a lot of Harley riders credit for. Grinning, he says, "Thats a really good looking bike". He knew. He knew what I was asking myself. He was asking himself questions too, the same, but from a different perspective. But, now I know...........he's here for the ride too. He just chose a different steed. His iron horse, and mine, aren't all that different. Both metal monsters that let us breathe. Let us smell. Keep us from being numb. It's not about the destination, it's about the journey. "Thanks I say". He nods. Yep, he knows. We share the same secret. The "secret" that all reading this story know. As the light turns green, we pull across the intersection.......he changes lanes and rumbles off. With waves of gloved hands, the Harley Dude and I go our separate ways. We rode together for 10 minutes. But it could have been 10 hrs. It didn't matter. We understood. We're not numb.

Zane "Zookoff" Schroeder Joined: Aug 10, 2002

Oh, the Torture

Leah and I are officially back in the "let's find us a new house" mode, but of course, we now have the task of selling ours. But it still never hurts to casually look at those available homes in the marketplace which would pique our interest. Since Leah has an in-house Realtor(R), she's always making suggestions or finding nominations online via a searchable database (that is essentially a direct data dump from the MLS).

In car terms, we found a practically new vehicle today on a car lot for several thousand bucks less than the Kelley Blue Book, and all it needs is a good run through the car wash and maybe an air freshener.

Yep, we found a foreclosure that's been on the market (this time) for about 2 months. But it was built brand new in 2004, and in mid-2005 was put on the market due to a potential relocation. Some time after 2 different listing agents and 3 listing contracts, the bank came a' calling and presumably showed them the street.

So we have a 3 year old house (in an area that we wouldn't mind being in), whose only problem is stale air due to lack of circulation, some dust and spider webs, and I think Leah and I counted 2 mild stains on the carpet. 3 BR, 2 BA. Tiled kitchen, unfinished bonus room, his/her closets in the master bath, nice fixtures, cool plant ledges....and the current asking price is $12K less than the dude paid for it 3 years ago. In an neighborhood of a bit larger houses, it seems. So we'll keep an eye on it. Maybe David Copperfield can make it disappear like he did the Statue of Liberty several years ago.....

Things About Me, 1 - ??

Ok, so I know that Jeff's done it, so has Scott, and now Jennifer bursts back onto the blogging scene doing it. When I first starting reading them, I remember thinking, "Good gosh, I doubt very seriously that I could come up with 100 things about myself to write." Call me modest, call me boring....call me SOMETHING. But as I read Jen's, I started coming up with a few of my own. So let's see where this goes, shall we? I can't promise 100, or even 50, but maybe I'll get going and won't be able to stop. What exactly do you know about Eric C. Russell?

1. Was born Wednesday, March 28, 1973--6 weeks premature. Weighed 5 lbs, 14 oz and had severe jaundice; didn't get to go home with my mom and spent lots of time under bright lights.

2. I could've been the youngest of two kids--My mom miscarried a baby prior to having me (she miscarried another prior to my brother being born).

3. I became a Notary Public in March 2003, and my current commission expires 2/23/11.

4. I was 'valedictorian' of my 7th and 8th grade class, an honor I would've no doubt retained had I stayed at Raleigh Egypt, thus firmly establishing Scott's role as my lifelong inferior. But now he has letters after his name and I don't.

5. My first car was a 1967 Mustang coupe that I got for my 16th birthday. 2nd car was a 1986 Mustang LX convertible that I bought on my own. 36 months @ $216/mo.

6. In 8th grade, I frequently cried in frustration when attempting Algebra homework. I guess the logic of 3x + 3y = 12 and 4x - 2y = 10 just didn't 'click'. (x = 3 and y = 1, in case you're wondering).

7. I'm a certified SCUBA diver. Did my classroom and pool time while at Vanderbilt, and did my certification dives locally with The Dive Shop at Greers Ferry lake in Heber Springs, AR. Haven't been diving since. Good think the certification is for life.

8. I once held a student pilot's license and logged 8 or 10 hours of flight. My instructor was too busy trying to get hours and advance his career to get little ole me more flight time, so the license expired 3 years after issuance.

9. My first kiss was on a church bus. Actually, on a charter bus returning home from a church trip.

10. I can juggle. Not 10 rings like those freaks at the circus, but the standard 3, thank you.

11. In high school, I placed 4th in Memphis and 8th in Tennessee on the National Spanish Exam.

12. I've been in 2 major auto accidents in my lifetime. The first, in 1990, was a virtual head-on collision caused by somebody trying to beat traffic against a green light. I escaped with a contusion of the nose which by all estimation should've been broken. In the 2nd, I was turning left and was t-boned by a 17-year old who was speeding down Walnut Grove and had been drinking (police report said, "judgment impaired."). I was extricated using the the jaws of life, and I had a broken left collar bone, compound fracture of my right tibia, as well as a fractured fibula. Yes, the metal rod is still in there and is lots of fun at airports.

13. I alphabetize my CD collection, first by artist (last name, first) and then album title. Not because I'm some OCD freak, it just seems the most logical way to find one that I'm looking for amongst a collection of 200+.

14. I utterly despise turnip/mustard greens and steamed cabbage.

15. My first job was at the age of 14, working at the Mid-South Coliseum, walking around yelling, "Popcorn, peanuts!". Commission was $.10 per item.

16. My first W-2 issuing job was as a bagger at Kroger. Started there making $3.50/hr and 3 or 4 weeks later was promoted to checker.

17. I shook hands with First Lady Barbara Bush in Nashville in 1992.

18. I didn't learn to swim until my dad and step-mom bought their house in Bartlett with the pool. I remember taking swimming lessons as a kid, but something never clicked. I would kick and move my arms and nothing happened. One day, I guess I got it all together.

19. I had a 24" 10-speed bike (as opposed to the standard 26") because I was too short.

20. I have never smoked, or dipped, and didn't drink an ounce of alcohol until I had turned 21.

Whew...20! That wasn't so bad. Stay tuned for more!