Damage control, man golf, North Korea

I discovered a half dozen important e-mails from parents and students in my spam e-mail folder tonight. A coworker told me somebody adjusted the spam filter. Now the damn thing hides the most important e-mails we get. Technology is a double-edged sword that I cannot live without and will never forgive. I have problems.

Three of my coworkers and I will play a disc golf scramble tomorrow if the rain stays away. One fellow is my gray bearded, young-at-heart mentor. Another is a relatively new father who, when asked if he would like to play, said yes without hesitation. Two-year-olds will be around no matter the weather, but not all days accomodate golf.

In other news North Korea farted underground and told its neighbors to bugger off. This blog has never been political, but let me say this about the Korea situation. It is bad. Move me to the top of your RSS news folder. I am well informed.

"Now watch me hit this drive."
~George W. Bush

Ninth Street

I strolled Ninth Street for the first time last weekend. My crew was already in high spirits when it arrived at Charlie's, one of the few bars open on Ninth last Saturday. I didn't see many Duke students. I might not have seen any. Charlie's was full of thirty something Durham residents listening to a loud cover band playing "Redneck Woman." My suburban Los Angeles girlfriend sang along and raised her PBR bottle to the chorus, and I liked it. I was no more in my element as a Carolina guy in a Duke bar. I ain't no high-class broad. Hell yeah.

"Ugh," my Carolina friend said. "Look at that." My gaze settled on the Ultimate Fighting Championship match on the television, but my friend loves mixed martial arts. A quick refocus allowed me to see the offending material: Duke memorabilia everywhere.

Puke blue jerseys on the walls. A picture of a smirking Coach K. And then another. Tens and tens of smirks. Laettner's release. A Rose Bowl banner from 1942. The Devils played in the only Rose Bowl outside of Pasadena because of national security. Their change of venue was to Durham. Ha.

The eyesores were enough to make a couple meek toasts.

"Here's to Marvin's put back." Clink.

"Here's to four in a row." Clink.

"Here's to five is greater than three." Clink.

If I had made better use of the moment, I would have thought of something better to say. Instead we picked up our defiant selves and walked to Cosmic Cantina, the one thing that Ninth has better than Franklin. Cheap margaritas and veggie burritos on a nice outdoor patio framed an awkward Dukie date. I rooted for bottom braces guy. We might bleed different shades, but we certainly have both been on at least one awkward date. Mine was either high heels on ice or the fast food stalker. I can get behind that but only that. We have little else in common.

I might go back when school starts. Any takers? That's not really a question. Boys, it's time we suit up for a road game.

Golf, poker and professional wrestling

My carpool buddy Seth and I are back together again after a baseball season hiatus. We played disc golf last Friday to finish off the week, and he mentioned today that he couldn't wait for summer to arrive. I saw it coming from a car seat away.

"We should bring our shorts and discs so we can golf tomorrow," he said. "We should do the same thing Wednesday." Smells like teen spirit. I'm in. It is fun to throw a good drive and watch others do the same. I love it when a single asks to drive through my group and buzzes one past my ear for an easy birdie. I do the same sometimes but also have a fondness for ticks, trees and sextuple bogeys.

I might have to take a rain check Wednesday since I am still on the brink of my big poker comeback. Even my girlfriend won't let me gasp for air. I played online yesterday and held a K-10. The flop came as K-K-2. She bet small, so I put her on K-something less than 10. She actually held K-J and built her house on the turn.

I flopped trip aces at Bailey's last week. A Duke fan who previously sucked out four times raised my action bet. I just called and checked the turn. He checked. A seemingly harmless jack fell on the river. I went all in. He called and flipped over jacks full. What the hell? I figured he didn't even look at his cards. Ugh. Writing about this stuff will turn it around.

I finally saw The Wrestler. It's been a long time since I cared about a character this much. I won't spoil the ending but will say it is a fantastic finish to a fantastic film. This should have beat the pants off "Slumdog Millionaire." Mickey Rourke, we love you man.

UNC disc golf course information

Character

A student of mine hit a walk-off grand slam with two outs, bases juiced and a one-run deficit in last night's conference championship game. Does it get any better than that? I couldn't wait to see her this morning after I heard the news. I asked her to tell the story to the class.

"No," she said. "I'm too nervous for my math test." This was typical humble behavior for her. She eventually whispered the most watered-down version of the story so that nobody could hear her. "And then I hit it out," she concluded.

"Was it on the first pitch?" I asked.

"I don't remember," she said. She couldn't remember because the adrenaline was still pumping through her veins. This girl will go farther in life than any softball she will ever hit.