The Atlantic Coast Conference kicked off its football media season this weekend. A couple players from each team gathered in Greensboro, Ga. for golf, dinner, foosball and Wii. Each player pair answered questions from the media. Carolina safety Deunta Williams and wide receiver Hakeem Nicks politely answered their moronic questions.
Most Carolina players and coaches give vanilla answers because the athletic department trains them to. I have another idea. I would like to answer their actual questions with uncensored honesty. Italicized text represents real questions from this weekend.
____________________
J, thank you for being here this weekend.
No problem.
We understand you're an unconditional optimist, a fan who has predicted conference championships for eventual losing seasons. You must take losses hard. You were very close to beating N.C. State last year. And I mean very, very close. Like this close. Do you think about that? Is that on your mind?
What's on your mind, you rubber-eyed dump bomb? We won four games last year and still almost beat those tobacco-spitting farmers. Maybe you don't know this, but we've beat them in 11 of our last 14 meetings. We hold a 63-27-6 record against State. They have a pathetic inferiority complex, but I can't blame them. They were picked to finish last in the Atlantic this weekend. We stuffed Touchdown Almost McClendon in 2004, and you can stuff it right now.
I know you also support the basketball team. I don't care what you say, Hakeem and Deunta play at a basketball school because you know how the fans are.
What do you mean I know how the fans are? Have you ever been to a game at Kenan? Look, I went to the Notre Dame game in 2006. Their fan experience is respectable, but the Carolina fan experience is better. We already set attendance records for the 2008 season, and it's July.
You should see the drum corps on Polk Place. Cheer the team on the Old Well Walk. Play beanbag over brats. March into Kenan with the band. Go to the Tar Pit and have 20 Tar Heels climb all over you after a touchdown. Close your eyes for a game-winning field goal. Exult when the Heels make that final goal line stand. Race onto the field when it's over. Trip over the hedges. Hang on the goalposts. Hug the players. Rush Franklin Street. Eat a beefmaster frank. Answer the bell. Then you can tell me you know how the fans are.
You're right. I haven't been to a Carolina football game. I live with my mom and knitted the nancy sweater I'm wearing on football Saturdays. Enough about me. Do you feel like the football players have to live up to something or prove something to the basketball team? Do you feel like you have to tell the fans that Carolina is a football school as well?
No. They know we are a football school. Are you from the Republic of Djibouti?
No. You mentioned Notre Dame earlier. You played them last season.
We played them two seasons ago. Are you a journalist?
I'm not a journalist, but I have a blog. You're over the culture shock of playing Notre Dame. You've got them again this season. Are they just like any other team?
Notre Dame is a different kind of team because they suck more than any other team. They lost nine games last year. They have lost nine consecutive bowl games since 1995. We will eat them alive and spit them back out to NBC, a company that recently drafted the most illogical sports contract since the Red Sox lost Ruth. Notre Dame is overrated hogwash.
Can you tell me what it means to be ranked second in the Coastal right behind Virginia Tech?
I wonder how the votes would look on Sept. 22 when we will be 3-0 with a convincing home win over the Hokies. Stuart Scott will be the special guest at ESPN GameDay in Chapel Hill for the Notre Dame game. Everyone will hop on the bandwagon. But if you need a list of the original faithful, the men and women who are not just fans but sons and daughters of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, then look no further than the comments and testimony below.
____________________
Click here for the press conference: http://www.ocsn.com/media_server/play.smil?school=acc&media_type=audio&content=http://mfile.akamai.com/8108/wma/cstvcbs.download.akamai.com/8108/open/acc/07-08/audio/m-footbl/07jul/080720nc.asx
Click here for the story on the ACC preseason projections: http://blogs.newsobserver.com/accnow/surprise-clemson-picked-to-win-acc
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Friday, July 11, 2008
A nice vice
I enjoy a home poker game. Although slower than playing online, a home game has unique amenities: clinking chips, beer buckets, food, music, banter and friendly competition.
I failed to find or host a regular game in Charlotte. Poor etiquette deterred one-time players. Nobody wants to play if one person thinks the game is a joke. It's not about money. Poker is pride. Buckle down, cowboy.
The game in question is freeze-out, no-limit Texas hold’em. It is a game of skill that tests intuition and recognition of betting patterns. The cards matter a little but not a lot. I predict the participation of a few poker stars in this old town.
________________
Melissa is a slow player who beats me consistently. She rarely bluffs and plays her cards mostly straight in tight and loose games. A friend said he liked to see me wriggle when Melissa moved her chips. I don't think I wriggle, but I feel hungry and thirsty when she bets.
Daniel aggresses and tends to lose everything or build up a good stack early. Don’t expect him to wait out the tournament. He thrusts his chips into the pot with an aim to frighten anyone who does not know the Daniel rule: he probably holds nothing but thinks he’s tough. He was the most valuable lineman at South Davidson High School in 2001.
Ryan is a rookie who has one thing in common with Coach K; he likes to see the flop. Ryan plays a lot of hands when the blinds are low and will make conservative attempts at early pots, hoping that his early stack will last him through the bigger blinds. However, his basketball prowess forces him to appease friends with soft play when the margin becomes too much. Ryan is most vulnerable with a commanding lead.
Will is a veteran player with a brief history of bad beats. He is not afraid to bet the blacks before the turn when he knows he has the edge. The opponent sometimes draws alive, but Will gets back on the horse right quick.
Emily is a talker who might ask to see your cards or, in a blunt effort, your chips. She is a fierce competitor who attends Duke University for grad school, but her heart has always been where ours are.
Victor is the Hevad Khan of Chapel Hill. He started playing poker after watching Casino Royale, a movie in which the players draw nothing worse than a flush. If Victor puts a couple hands together, he will make a New York show of it. He knows he can beat anyone except Reyshawn Terry.
Tom is the sleeping giant of the local poker scene. He is smart, patient and observant. He has every trait necessary to blow a table away. He does not know this.
Kathryn boasts a poker history with girlfriends and cigars, but she is not sure if she played stud or hold'em. The story seems unlikely. She bluffs.
Dani is probably too sweet for cards. I never saw her take advantage of anyone's weakness. However, Dani recently got an Australian shepherd that forces her to clear her throat with disapproval. It's not the scariest sound, but it will give anyone who knows her an earnest double take.
I failed to find or host a regular game in Charlotte. Poor etiquette deterred one-time players. Nobody wants to play if one person thinks the game is a joke. It's not about money. Poker is pride. Buckle down, cowboy.
The game in question is freeze-out, no-limit Texas hold’em. It is a game of skill that tests intuition and recognition of betting patterns. The cards matter a little but not a lot. I predict the participation of a few poker stars in this old town.
________________
Melissa is a slow player who beats me consistently. She rarely bluffs and plays her cards mostly straight in tight and loose games. A friend said he liked to see me wriggle when Melissa moved her chips. I don't think I wriggle, but I feel hungry and thirsty when she bets.
Daniel aggresses and tends to lose everything or build up a good stack early. Don’t expect him to wait out the tournament. He thrusts his chips into the pot with an aim to frighten anyone who does not know the Daniel rule: he probably holds nothing but thinks he’s tough. He was the most valuable lineman at South Davidson High School in 2001.
Ryan is a rookie who has one thing in common with Coach K; he likes to see the flop. Ryan plays a lot of hands when the blinds are low and will make conservative attempts at early pots, hoping that his early stack will last him through the bigger blinds. However, his basketball prowess forces him to appease friends with soft play when the margin becomes too much. Ryan is most vulnerable with a commanding lead.
Will is a veteran player with a brief history of bad beats. He is not afraid to bet the blacks before the turn when he knows he has the edge. The opponent sometimes draws alive, but Will gets back on the horse right quick.
Emily is a talker who might ask to see your cards or, in a blunt effort, your chips. She is a fierce competitor who attends Duke University for grad school, but her heart has always been where ours are.
Victor is the Hevad Khan of Chapel Hill. He started playing poker after watching Casino Royale, a movie in which the players draw nothing worse than a flush. If Victor puts a couple hands together, he will make a New York show of it. He knows he can beat anyone except Reyshawn Terry.
Tom is the sleeping giant of the local poker scene. He is smart, patient and observant. He has every trait necessary to blow a table away. He does not know this.
Kathryn boasts a poker history with girlfriends and cigars, but she is not sure if she played stud or hold'em. The story seems unlikely. She bluffs.
Dani is probably too sweet for cards. I never saw her take advantage of anyone's weakness. However, Dani recently got an Australian shepherd that forces her to clear her throat with disapproval. It's not the scariest sound, but it will give anyone who knows her an earnest double take.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
To those who put it on the line
Teach For America is done. I wrote a summary of the good and bad parts of these past two years. Send me an e-mail if you would like a copy. I cannot put it here. My mother read it and said I did not write like myself. She said it had no personality.
"It's an objective piece," I explained. "I reported without emoting." It was true, but Mom had a valid point. I must have felt something in these two years even if I did not write about it.
One of my students murdered two of his classmates this week. He and I got along well, but I did not shed a tear. The online news report did not phase me. I am the emotional equivalent of a marathon runner who puked for most of the race; I finished but not in great shape.
At first everything floored me. Nearly every corps member got the biggest reality check of his life in the first weeks of training. Once I got to Charlotte I saw late students, absent teachers, school violence, academic apathy, low achievement, low expectations, low colleague morale and almost no opportunity for my school's most needy students. Staff gave up on students. Students gave up on staff. Students gave up on themselves. I stayed at work until 7 p.m. each day, trying to come up with something that would improve my routine. I nearly went nuts. I consistently forgot to fasten my seat belt. My friends could not drag me out on Friday nights. My friends could not drag me out on Saturdays. Life was tougher than I had ever had it. I wasn't much into being me anymore. A few college friends told me I was off.
Then, after awhile, stuff stopped bothering me. All the shit seemed to continue if not worsen, so I flipped my emotional switch to OFF. Teach For America would have you believe that I learned to limit my efforts to my locus of control. I think my tranquility was an unavoidable instinct: survival.
Most corps members seemed OK like me, but the ones who did not were a troubled bunch. Chemical addiction and absence of social interaction riddled some I knew. The few I knew who quit probably did the right thing. Some who should have quit did not. Those are sad stories.
Here was the danger: Teach For America accepts proud people. We are not the types to believe we cannot get a job done. You want us to close the achievement gap? OK, would you like sweet-potato fries and a sweet tea with that? We'll have it done by the end of the week.
All corps members failed a lot. Each of us was like a straight-A student with overbearing parents, getting an F after sincere effort. We knew why we failed but felt like we couldn't do anything about it. Some of us, including me, worked through failure and saw why we taught by the end. I can honestly say this: I taught to the best of my ability, and my students were lucky to have me in the classroom.
That's coming a long way from not going out on the weekends. I've never considered myself a proud person, but I feel proud right now.
Of course the marathon puke still dangles from my chin. I am certainly not who I was 25 months ago. Thank God I happened to fall for a great girl in these two years who put me back together when I was in pieces. She is the person who can flip my switch to ON and tolerate my own set of coping addictions: writing, reading and poker. It's the new me.
I want to dedicate this post to anyone who has ever changed his life, for better or worse, for a cause outside of himself.
"It's an objective piece," I explained. "I reported without emoting." It was true, but Mom had a valid point. I must have felt something in these two years even if I did not write about it.
One of my students murdered two of his classmates this week. He and I got along well, but I did not shed a tear. The online news report did not phase me. I am the emotional equivalent of a marathon runner who puked for most of the race; I finished but not in great shape.
At first everything floored me. Nearly every corps member got the biggest reality check of his life in the first weeks of training. Once I got to Charlotte I saw late students, absent teachers, school violence, academic apathy, low achievement, low expectations, low colleague morale and almost no opportunity for my school's most needy students. Staff gave up on students. Students gave up on staff. Students gave up on themselves. I stayed at work until 7 p.m. each day, trying to come up with something that would improve my routine. I nearly went nuts. I consistently forgot to fasten my seat belt. My friends could not drag me out on Friday nights. My friends could not drag me out on Saturdays. Life was tougher than I had ever had it. I wasn't much into being me anymore. A few college friends told me I was off.
Then, after awhile, stuff stopped bothering me. All the shit seemed to continue if not worsen, so I flipped my emotional switch to OFF. Teach For America would have you believe that I learned to limit my efforts to my locus of control. I think my tranquility was an unavoidable instinct: survival.
Most corps members seemed OK like me, but the ones who did not were a troubled bunch. Chemical addiction and absence of social interaction riddled some I knew. The few I knew who quit probably did the right thing. Some who should have quit did not. Those are sad stories.
Here was the danger: Teach For America accepts proud people. We are not the types to believe we cannot get a job done. You want us to close the achievement gap? OK, would you like sweet-potato fries and a sweet tea with that? We'll have it done by the end of the week.
All corps members failed a lot. Each of us was like a straight-A student with overbearing parents, getting an F after sincere effort. We knew why we failed but felt like we couldn't do anything about it. Some of us, including me, worked through failure and saw why we taught by the end. I can honestly say this: I taught to the best of my ability, and my students were lucky to have me in the classroom.
That's coming a long way from not going out on the weekends. I've never considered myself a proud person, but I feel proud right now.
Of course the marathon puke still dangles from my chin. I am certainly not who I was 25 months ago. Thank God I happened to fall for a great girl in these two years who put me back together when I was in pieces. She is the person who can flip my switch to ON and tolerate my own set of coping addictions: writing, reading and poker. It's the new me.
I want to dedicate this post to anyone who has ever changed his life, for better or worse, for a cause outside of himself.
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