15 Years Later.

Note: I'm resurrecting this blog to pay proper homage to the 2010 Cincinnati Reds baseball season. Maybe I'll even crap out a blog post here and there from this point forward. Who can say?

I was 14-years-old in 1995. It was three years prior to my brief "I'm too cool for sports" phase when I attempted to adopt the 7 Seconds song "I Hate Sports" as some sort of anthem. It was a ridiculous and trivial facade. In late elementary school and throughout junior high, I was a sports junkie. I wore a killer Florida Marlins Starter jacket and a St. Louis Blues wool hat as my day-to-day uniform. There was no rhyme or reason to my choosing these teams as articles of clothing. I just wore anything affiliated with sports. I mean, why the fuck did I have a St. Louis Blues hat? Aside from playing NHL '94 on Sega Genesis until my thumbs cramped up, I didn't really hold much affinity for hockey or really follow it a lick, aside from occasionally checking the sports section of the Cincinnati Enquirer to see how the Cincinnati Cylones--a minor league rogue hockey team--had fared the night before. I actually think I still have a signed Ray LeBlanc hockey card tucked away somewhere. But I digress . . .

Baseball was always my focal point growing up. I was a chubby, timid kid with little skill at running and even less desire (or parental consent) to seek full contact. If it hadn't been for a grueling streak of conditioning my freshman year of high school, I may have even stuck through tryouts and made the junior varsity team. It was possible. I swear I didn't suck. Sure, I played the "just stick him there" position other than right field, but I was serviceable at first base and most importantly, I could hit. I never played on shitty teams (a few flirted with state tournaments), always had solid chemistry with teammates/friends, and was raised by great coaches who possessed the rare desire to both win and teach the kids a thing or two in the process.

I remember watching every game of the 1991 World Series between the Minnesota Twins and Atlanta Braves and still legitimately think it was the best seven-game-series I've ever witnessed in my life (sorry, 2004 Red Sox). Aside from two games, every game of the series was decided by one run, and three of them went into extra innings, including a decisive Game 7 that ended in a 1-0 Twins victory with a Gene Larkin single to score Dan Gladden from third (I was actually forced to go to bed and didn't catch the end of the game. You're damn right I haven't forgiven my mom for this injustice). The Reds had swept the A's in four games the year before, and seeing that the Twins' Kirby Puckett was my baseball hero, you can probably see why the two year stretch was a bit of a defining moment for me in baseball terms. Add in a Joe Carter walk-off home run against the Phillies' Mitch Williams to win the Series in 1993, and you have a wicked stretch of baseball that had me digging my heels in.

The strike came in 1994. Already 114 games into the season, the Reds were in the midst of a solid 66-48 season (with the poor Expos at 70-44, believe it or not), quite possibly losing another chance at an extended playoff run. The 1995 season had a delayed start due to the eventually resolved labor dispute and only contained 144 regular season games. So, until this year the Reds hadn't earned a trip to the playoffs following a proper 162-game regular season since the team's World Series run in 1990. That's just kind of fucked, isn't it?

With a roster that included pitchers like John Smiley, Pete Schourek, David Wells, Frank Viola, Dave Burba, and the one-and-only Jeff Brantley and fielders by the name of Barry Larkin, Hal Morris, Bret Boone, Deion and Reggie Sanders, and Ron Gant, the Davey Johnson-managed ballclub found itself in the NLCS against a far superior Atlanta Braves team that promptly swept them on its way to the team's only World Series under the supposedly immortal Bobby Cox.

So, what happened in the 15 years between playoff appearances? Well, aside from the blip in 2000 when the Reds lost a play-in game to the New York Mets, the simple answer is that the team adopted a system that sucked unless you had assloads of money to throw at players that would probably end up heading to New York or Boston anyway.

Now, I was as big a Ken Griffey Jr. fan as anyone. I stood by his side as he never played more than 150 games in any of his nine seasons in Cincinnati. I stood by his side as he played a position he just wasn't suited for any longer and consequently injured himself by forcing his body to do things it couldn't. I stood by his side when he showed obvious disinterest in his team by lazily running out ground balls. Let's be honest, though, Griffey was a massive part of the problem for the Reds between 2000 and 2010.

The Reds built a home run hitters ballpark with a short right field so hitters like Griffey and the epitome of all evil, Adam Dunn, could tear the covers off the balls as we all watched wide-eyed while home run after home run landed in the Ohio River. Actually, check that. The Reds built that ballpark for Griffey. No doubt about it. Maybe the steroid era is to blame or maybe ownership had diluted itself to think that all the city needed was a hometown hero. Regardless, we threw big money at a big name player all the while expecting him to make everything well and good. Like I said before, if you're not the Yankees and can't attract a slew of A-Rods and Mark Teixeiras, this approach is straight bullshit. Living in Chicago, I (happily) watch the Cubs fuck up each year as they heave stupid amounts of money at second tier players (Soriano, Lee, Ramirez, etc) that simply weren't worth the Yankees or Red Sox time of day. They give superstar money to eventual stiffs and wonder what the hell went wrong? Sorry, Cubbies, it's not about any sort of a curse. You just suck as an organization.

So, why has baseball become king again in Cincinnati (well, at least until the Bengals fool the public into thinking they're worth a damn), and why am I so damn excited about the playoffs? It's plain and simple, and you've heard it before--building from the ground up by recruiting some seasoned, hardened baseball players who have been there and done that (Scott Rolen, Orlando Cabrera) and surrounding them with young talent that has worked it's way through the farm system and/or college ball (Joey Votto, Jay Bruce, Drew Stubbs, Homer Bailey, Mike Leake). That's how small market teams like the Tampa Bay (Devil) Rays and Cincinnati Reds become worth a shit.

I've waited 15 years for this. I don't expect the Reds to win the World Series, and I'd probably keel over if they even made it there, but it's nice to see my devotion to baseball, the Reds, and even Cincinnati sports for that matter finally starting to pay off. Now, if we could just rally together to send the Astros to the four-team AL West so all of the MLB divisions will be equally fair with five teams, and abolish the travesty that is the season opener on Sunday night, thus restoring order by allowing Cincinnati to host the first game of the proper baseball season, I'm pretty sure all would be right with the world.

Note: I began writing this the Tuesday evening prior to the opening of the postseason in which we were all treated to a no-hitter by Roy Halladay. It was utterly painful and initially put a damper on this blog post. I said fuck it, though, and finished it anyway. I'm glad I did.

Under Construction.

Does anyone read this thing regularly?

Well, it's going on hiatus until I can redesign and rethink. Needless to say, there haven't been many posts recently. Not to worry, though, because I still have a fuck ton of shit to say and complain about, but I'm just searching for the right context and chasm in which to throw my thoughts. Please stay tuned.

Also, I've had more than one friend tell me to post the shit I write for the Chicago Reader on my blog because they always forget to pick up a Reader, or can't find the time, or live in Cincinnati, or whatever. Aside from being a sad yet perfect microcosm for the dying newspaper industry, the request is valid because I'm always saying, "Hey, pick up the Reader, I wrote up so and so. They're kind of [ridiculous amalgamated genre tag] with some [obscure late 80s/early 90s hardcore band] influence mixed with [random, inexplicable drug reference].

So, here are links to some bands I've recently written up.

Sleepy Sun
Fang Island
Damien Jurado
Them Crooked Vultures
Black Breath
Los Campesinos!

I'll now leave you with the trailer for one of the most unintentionally terrifying films of all time, costarring the venerable 80s icon Jeffrey Jones and Marty McFly's mom.



The fact that Howard the Duck isn't fully revealed in the trailer makes it all the more frightening.

Coming, Going, and Lately.

I just got a haircut. It's short.

Carley Manning skips town next Thursday and heads back to the NKY (that's Northern Kentucky to you uneducated folk). Before moving to Chicago, I hunted her down at the Southgate House in Newport during one of her bazillion visits back home to inform her that we would be hanging out when I moved. We did. She stuck around for three years, and now she's rolling back. She will be sorely missed. That's my girl right there.

This is the last blog post you will see in this format. Shit is getting overhauled very soon courtesy of Adam McIver's brain. Soak in my novice, uneducated layout and design while you still can.

I haven't blogged in like a month. I really have nothing to blame for this. I often convince myself that I'm busier than I actually am. A lot of it has to do with the fact that I generally dislike sitting down, so I keep myself "busy" even while I'm hanging around my apartment. This often consists of doing random sets of pushups, cleaning my bike, listening to records while dusting, or fiddling around in my garage space.

I have too many modes of transportation and too little money. Something's gotta give soon (and I have a feeling it's going to start with a "mo" and end with a "ped").

Running is my therapy, and I've been doing it an obscene amount recently. That's not to say I'm depressed by any means. I've just felt the need to run more and more recently. Interpret that however you want. Actually, I can't wait to go running tomorrow because my hair's short again. Here's to not feeling like my flowing locks are creating a stupid amount of wind resistance and holding me back from reaching lightning speed.

Right arm half-sleeve-ish tattoo on its way. June 19th as a matter of fact. Better late than never (my motto always and forever).

Michael Short and Kenneth Roa are homeowners. I went back to Cincinnati over Memorial Day weekend to confirm. It's true. Each has bought a westside home with windows and working plumbing. My heart is swelling with pride and joy. All I want now is to see each of them cutting the lawn in a wifebeater, cut-off jean shorts, and flip-flops while sipping on a can of Budweiser. I can't imagine anything more majestic.

This blog post has no real theme, and I'm okay with that. Actually, I'm so okay with it that I just mentioned it. You know, like right HERE. Nothing better than a good ramble.

Ken Griffey, Jr. retired. It makes me sad that he never made it as a Red. It makes me sad that he was a walking injury. It makes me sad that the team crippled itself for years because of his contract. But in spite of it all, it makes me sad that he's not going to be playing anymore. Yeah, I'm blind and ignorant, but I don't give a fuck. I was and will always be a fan of Junior. So, check out Justin's blog post on Griffey and help him choose the right point of view concerning the Kid's legacy (if you know what's good for you, lean towards the sentiment I just expressed).

I've begun a quest to become somewhat of a beer connoisseur/snob. I expect to be good at it but never great.

Justin Bragg moves up here this weekend, and Heidi Bragg follows shortly thereafter. It's surreal to see this string of events come to fruition. It's literally been a year since these plans were lightly discussed and even joked about. Who knew that they'd actually materialize? My goal is to make them love this city, even though it wants to slap you around here and there.

Chicago summers rule and negate the winters completely and totally. Justin and Heidi will soon understand.

After two years of riding somewhat illegally, I finally procured my motorcycle license. It was a banner day in the Warwick household.

Don't look now, but the Reds are actually worth a shit (even though they're losing to the Giants as I'm typing this). It's painful that I haven't been to a game this season and even more painful that I'm not able to revel in the optimism and buzz enshrouding the city of Cincinnati at the moment. Baseball hullabaloo far exceeds football hullabaloo.

I'll be going on vacation in early August. I'm thinking Pacific northwest.

There's Bologna in Our Slacks.

So, the gang I run around with up here in Chicago has recently been taken in by old school 80s and early-90s cartoon theme songs. And yes, this of course involved a drunken night of scrolling through Apple TV and consecutively watching as many as we could find on the worldwide Internet computer web.

We grew up listening to these songs ad nauseum. They're seared into our brains. It seems unbelievable, but the tunes weren't candy-coated fluff, but actual songs, complete with 80s hooks and synth movements abound. I mean shit, Mark Mueller, composer of both the DuckTales and Chip 'n Dale Rescue Rangers theme songs, has had three Billboard top ten singles and a number one adult contemporary "hit" during his career (I'm not too sure an adult contemporary song should be called a "hit" in any fashion). Let's face it, Disney straight had its shit down in the 80s.

This post highlights the picks of the litter from my childhood (and maybe early adolescence). Enjoy.

DuckTales (1987-1990) - There's just not a better theme song. Check out the end of this post for cringe-worthy bonus material involving the singer of the original theme song, Jeff Pescetto.



 Chip 'n Dale Rescue Rangers (1989-1990) - I was always partial to Monterey Jack myself.



Tiny Toons (1990-1995) - Warner Bros. knew what it was doing as well. Early 90s after-school gold.



Animaniacs (1993-1998) - Another Warner Bros. vehicle. Legitimately witty. I watched this religiously, despite an awareness that I should be growing out of cartoons.



ThunderCats (1985-1990) - Infused with epic, flaming guitar solos. Uh, it's fucking ThunderCats.




He-Man & the Masters of the Universe (1983-1985) - I probably beat my little brother up after I watched this cartoon. You know, to prove my manliness and shit.



Muppet Babies (1984-1990) - I was never the biggest "live action" Muppet fan, but I know that I watched Muppet Babies regularly. This admission discounts the manliness that I previously mentioned.



Alvin & the Chipmunks (1983-1990) - This cartoon series was later raped by a couple of terrible live action movies. I'm sure a third is in the works. Stay tuned.



Bobby's World (1990-1998) - Howie Mandel has always been a pretty big shitbag. This was his show before he became a bald shitbag that wasted your time for an hour with some banker and a bunch of suitcases.




Bonus Junk: Some turd named Josh tracked down Jeff Pescetto and beat around the bush for about eight minutes before he finally asked him to sing the theme song from DuckTales. It's a little sad and painful.

Dark Lord Day.

I attended my first Dark Lord Day this past Saturday. If you're unfamiliar with this magical, alcohol-drenched pandemonium, it's a full day of beer euphoria presented by Three Floyds Brewery. Each year, the brewery unleashes its batch of Dark Lord, a Russian imperial stout sold for one day only. With the craft beer revolution in full force, friends have detailed the growth of this beer festival these past few years, and from what I was told, this year marked an exponential growth in attendees and just general pleasantry between craft beer snobs and advocates.

Now, I'm not going to feign to have vast knowledge about craft beer and the culture. To be completely honest, I'm still in the midst of learning. However, I do know that I enjoy beer, and I do know that I generally enjoy those who dabble in the production and promotion of hard-to-find brews.

Dark Lord Day only elevated my interest and subsequent passion for the pigeonhole of craft beer. A few friends and I arrived at the Three Floyds compound in Munster, Indiana around 2 PM on Saturday and were immediately bombarded by a behemoth line of Dark Lord enthusiasts. We assumed the massive line was for the purchase of Dark Lord (the beer has become so popular that you actually have to purchase hard-to-snatch tickets from the brewery's website in order to have a chance to buy Dark Lord). We opted to head into the brewery first to check out a scene in which there was no shortage of beer up for sale. Aside from Dark Lord, I was downing Three Floyds Alpha King (a favorite of mine), Samurai Gazebo (a delicious summertime lager), and Popskull (a hearty and robust collaboration with Dogfish Head).

But what made the festival so awesome was the uninhibited friendliness of the rest of the attendees. After checking out the compound and the stage area (oh yeah, the festival also boasts a solid lineup of bands for your entertainment), we settled in the line for our chance to get at the Dark Lord. The line was ridiculous (we waited in shifts for about three hours), but it didn't even matter. Other attendees troll the lines offering up their own beer for your tasting. Growlers and liters make their way into each nook of the festival as those with tickets patiently wait with their coolers, backpacks, and open arms to haul whatever they can pack away.

I semi-documented the day with my digital photo taking device. Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, I got a tad tipsy as the day wore on and wasn't able to take as many photos as I would've liked. Regardless, here they are in absolutely no order whatsoever.

I'm an Adult (Maybe).

It's true that this past Thursday was my 29th birthday, and yes, it's also true that my 30th is hiding in the bushes around the corner waiting to pounce and stab me to death. So, in honor of my newly inherited age, I figured it'd be fun to subjectively list off some of the "adult" qualities I've inherited over the years, as well as many of the "immature" qualities I've maintained and cultivated since birth.

Please feel free to study each list and determine for yourself if it's appropriate and just for me to state that I'm 29-years-old. I mean, I'll stop if you feel like I'm insulting adulthood by being 29 at this moment in time. No worries, I'll understand. But if you do feel like my new age is justifiable, then I guess I'll be out tomorrow buying a new cardigan and finally learning how to play golf.

Adult

I maintain a nine to five job to some degree, meaning I work at least 40 hours a week.

I own a relatively expensive suit and several ties.

I run and exercise regularly.

I make my bed every day.

I dust.

I have impeccable credit and always pay my bills on time.

I have short hair and an expensive pair of glasses.

I take several vitamins a day.

I remember the last time the Reds won the Wold Series.

I own my own knife set and many other kitchen utensils, including an electric can opener.

I am not embarrassed to go out to eat with my mom.

I pretend to read the New York Times, just like every other adult.

I am generally debilitated by a hangover the next morning.

I remember the last time the Bengals were in the Super Bowl.

I generally spend at least $15 on myself alone when eating out.

I watch my diet and am careful to include vegetables, proteins, and what not in my meals.

I don't like PBR, and I truly think Budweiser is a good beer.

I have a coat rack in my apartment as well as a couch from Ikea.

I am obsessively punctual and own more than one watch.

I am meticulous about remembering all of my friends birthdays.

I am a good tipper and care about the specials at restaurants.

I make dentist and doctor appointments simply for checkups.

I can maintain a thoughtful conversation with anyone if it involves sports.

I read novels averaging over 300 pages.

I play fantasy baseball.

I don't understand your haircut because it's too damn complicated.

Not so Adult

I drive a '97 Honda Civic with a cracked windshield and a missing side view mirror.

I don't shower daily.

I wear whatever I want to work, primarily consisting of (skinny) jeans and t-shirts (several with holes).

I don't separate my laundry into color categories.

I still use my college ID for student discounts at the movies.

I have never bought a pair of pajamas.

I am single and not even remotely close to having a child.

I know I am too irresponsible to care for any pet.

I can eat an entire frozen pizza without even feeling challenged.

I don't own my own set of dishes or silverware.

I am reliant on my mom to remind me about daylight saving time.

I have a CD collection devoid of Built to Spill, Modest Mouse, and Beck albums.

I still use milk crates as a prime organization tool.

I want to get more tattoos.

I cannot grow any facial hair, ever.

I can skip town on a whim for vacation or camping without any real consequences.

I cook many of my meals in a toaster oven.

I have a job that encourages me to know a shit ton about music and go to shows for free (all the time).

I don't live in the suburbs.

I have never worn cologne and generally find coffee disgusting.

I will occasionally put potato chips on a sandwich because it's delicious.

I own too many pairs of sneakers and too few dressy, fashionable shoes.

I would play hide-and-seek, laser tag, or enjoy a moonbounce at the drop of a hat.

I spit constantly.

I have framed band posters hanging on my wall.

I have absolutely no idea why Two and a Half Men is the #1 comedy in America.

I love to curse at any appropriate or inappropriate time.

So, what's the verdict? I've offered up two solid lists here, and lord knows there's no gray area in the argument. It's either one or the other (now that I think about it, my lack of wishy-washyness probably could've been added to the adult side of things).

With all that being said, let's completely change gears and take a look at my motherfucking stellar fantasy baseball roster this season. That's a pretty fucking adult thing to do. Don't you think? You're goddamn right it is.

C Geovany Soto
1B Joey Votto
2B Dustin Pedroia
3B Ryan Zimmerman
SS Stephen Drew
OF Justin Upton
OF Carlos Lee
OF Andrew McCutchen
UTIL Ben Zobrist
Bench Denard Span
Bench Chris Davis
Bench Alcides Escobar

Pitchers: Tim Lincecum, Dan Haren, Tim Hudson, Matt Garza, Hiroki Kuroda, Gavin Floyd, Andrew Bailey, Brian Fuentes

Fuck yeah.

Fighting for Pages.

The Stranger's Eli Sanders recently wrote an absorbing feature on the San Francisco alt-weekly debacle that's been escalating since 1995 when Phoenix's New Times (now of Village Voice Media fame) decided to pit its recent purchase, SF Weekly, against the San Francisco Bay Guardian for absolute bay area supremacy. As you begin plodding through the sprawling column (weighing in at around 11,000 words), it becomes evident whom Sanders is siding with. His allegiance is obviously with the Guardian, which was founded in 1966 and has since been locked arm-in-arm with the ever-burgeoning city through decades of both progression and controversy. Whether you interpret it as such or not, Sanders reveres the Guardian as a San Francisco institution that quite frankly deserves better than to be undercut by a brash, uneducated entity with its eyes set on extinction, not coexistence. I agree with him.

The Chicago Reader (my alt-weekly and employer) has gone through similar trials and tribulations since 2007 when it was bought by Creative Loafing, a small alt-weekly chain owned by Ben Eason that attempted to branch out by purchasing both the Reader and the Washington City Paper and ultimately failed (well, Eason failed when he went straight bankrupt). Creative Loafing is still in tact, however, minus the Eason clan and is now owned by its once largest creditor, Atalaya Capital Management. The Creative Loafing alt-weekly chain consists of papers in Chicago, Washington D.C., Atlanta, Tampa Bay, Charlotte, and Sarasota. Since Atalaya won the chain in an auction in August of 2009, Creative Loafing has been an ever-changing beast, adding and subtracting publishers, marketing gurus, and CEOs.

Sounds pretty confusing and boring, huh? Well, maybe it is, but the parallel I'm trying to draw between Sanders' column is that these institutions (and mind you, the Reader is a 40-year-old Chicago institution) are beginning to get undercut, regardless of their reputations. Is it right? No. Do these fluff-driven, chain-building conglomerates give a shit? No. Whether it's internal or external, it's damn frightening and the publishing industry is weak and cracked enough to let them weasel in. The fight may come, but it often means taking a few good pops to the jaw.

Make sure to read The Great West Coast Newspaper War by Eli Sanders. It's fantastic.

This One Isn't About Sports.

I know you don't read my sports posts. I know you don't care that I find sports to be the epitome of physical competition, infinitely fascinating, and a blanket solution to social disruption and prejudice. I know this. It's cool. So for this post, I think I'll recap my trip to California (mainly in photo form). Nothing too over-the-top. You know, just a nice and quick non-sports-related post with pretty photos. Everyone loves pretty photos, right?

Last weekend (March 3-7), Michael Short (Shorty) and I journeyed to San Francisco, California for a long overdue vacation chocked-full of fancy hotels, sunshine, staring at crackheads, good eating and drinking, scenic drives up California Route 1, Alcatraz visits, and solid hangouts with San Fran friends. It really was a delightful time. Emily Williams, an accommodating ex-girlfriend-turned-good-friend (a rarity, I know), played the part of "This is where we should eat because it's delicious, and I love it" for the trip. She pretty much ruled and directed us to little nooks of the city that I had never visited before. She gets a gold star.

Other friends harassed on the trip included Ryan Garrett, who turned 29 during our stay and valiantly took it upon himself each night to drink 47 gin and tonics and hit on anything that appeared to have breasts. He's swell and entertaining. And although the hangouts were sadly limited, we also enjoyed time with one Jason Crase and a true Cincinnati westsider in Jennifer Paff.

Anyway, here are some of my favorite photos from the trip, along with a little commentary (none of which has anything to do with sports):

Emily and Jason on the first night we got there. We ate at Katana-Ya and then headed to this endearingly shit dive joint called the Nite Cap. Emily knew the bartender who upon being told that she had friends in town asked, "Why the fuck did you bring them here?"

That lighting was completely by accident, but let's just act like I did it on purpose anyway. The other gentleman in the photo is Emily's boyfriend, Graham. Everyone is watching these dudes:

Phantogram. Decent shit electro-duo with a doofusy, aging scenester who found his golden ticket when he enlisted a dreamy, hipper-than-thou female singer. Heard this story before? Artsy projection and light show guaranteed.

The next series of photos was taken during my and Shorty's drive up the much-gushed-about California Route 1 on Thursday. You know what I'm talking about, that curvy road along the Pacific Ocean that shows up in every Audi and Mercedes commercial. I was definitely most apprehensive about this part of the trip because I'm the one that really pushed to do it. I mapped it all out, rented the car, and everything. Given, Shorty's about as easy going as they come, but I was still relatively nervous about the day crapping out. Luckily, the weather ruled, and so did I for planning such a spectacular day of touristy bullshit (commentary unnecessary).


During the day on Friday we visited this heap:


Alcatraz! I mentioned Sean Connery (The Rock) and Clint Eastwood (Escape From Alcatraz) at least three separate times because I think I'm fucking hilarious. Probably the most touristy thing we did, but who gives a shit? It's goddamn Alcatraz. Audio tour highly recommended.

Photos from what became a marathon of a Friday night, including a Nobunny show.
Saturday included some shopping, burritos, and music, but to be honest, I got tired of taking photos and decided to ditch my fancy new camera at the hotel. We did however check out what remains of Sutro Baths.

And there you have it. Definitely one of my better vacations. Now, I get to prep myself for Justin's five-day solo visit beginning this Wednesday. Oh, goodness gracious is it ever going to be a romp. I plan on having my camera in hand throughout much of it, so expect another photo blog very soon. I know everyone loves those.

Hockey and the Olympics: A Conversation.

Well, the Olympics are over. Another host city is left with a crippling debt, and NBC has likely lost millions and millions of dollars over the span of a mere two weeks. Similar to every other Olympics I've endured, I basically maintained partial interest throughout. The Olympics are a channel-surfing compromise.

Now, I'm not saying that the Olympics as a whole are obscenely uninteresting. For instance, I was actually somewhat riveted by cross-country skiing and figure skating. Yeah, you heard me right, I said figure skating. And aside from the idiotic move not to broadcast the first USA vs. Canada hockey game on network television, I'm not poopooing NBC's exhaustive coverage either. Simply put, it's hard to maintain a wholehearted interest in such a sprawling escapade of sports, many of which you don't really see but once every four years.

That being said, I did manage to get loosely wrapped up in hockey mania. It was kind of like being confined to a straitjacket, but having one arm free. I could have escaped if I had really felt like it, but it was kind of entertaining and funny to play along. So, that's what I did. It also helped that Canadians are excited about two things in life: hockey and syrup, in that order. The whole country was obviously abuzz, thus adding to an already throttling intensity. Canada probably would have spontaneously combusted if its hockey team had loss to the U.S. twice in the same Olympics. I mean let's face it, everyone hates us. Can you blame them?

Therefore, due to the unabated hysteria of the USA vs. Canada gold medal hockey match, Justin Bragg and I had the brilliant idea to conduct a live chat during the culmination of the Olympics. Throughout the game, we took unwarranted cheap shots at each other, displayed our overall lack of hockey knowledge, and maybe even cracked a joke here and there.

This is a real conversation that took place on Sunday, February 28 between two adult males in their late 20s. It's rather long and not for the faint of heart.

The chat begins at 3:02 PM EST.

Justin: What are the chances that the USA vs. Mexico will happen in World Cup this summer?
Kevin: Zero chance. Let the hockey live chat begin!
Justin: They said the same thing about USA in the finals of the Winter Olympics.
Kevin: Hockey!
Justin: I believe in miracles.
Kevin: That's why they have Al Michaels on.
Justin: Good point. Did you hear that tickets for this game were running 5k +?
Kevin: Dear god. The Canadian police were shutting down liquor stores and shit or something. That Canadian beer is potent. I just can't imagine a riot in Canada.
Justin: A riot in Canada would include mass-consumption of round bacon discs and the excessive pouring of maple syrup on pancakes. Wild stuff.
Kevin: Excellent. When I played this fest in Toronto, we were hanging out with some Vancouver kids and all they did was talk shit about American beer and say how great Canadian beer was.
Justin: Something has been bothering me this whole Olympics. Where is Torino?
Kevin: Italy! You're dumb.
Justin: I'm surprised that Canadian kids would talk shit on anything American. Don't they know that everything they do is weaker than anything we do?
Kevin: But the beer is more potent. That's probably why they were so pompous about it.
Justin: What, a Molson is more potent than a Miller? Who cares?
Kevin: Haha! God, they're still talking about 1980!
Justin: I should have watched Strange Brew in preparation for this chat/viewing of hockey, so I could have boned up on my Canada knowledge.
Kevin: Please end the flashbacks!
Justin: We have a time machine and can go back to one moment in time . . . should we go back to 1980 and watch that hockey game?
Kevin: No way.

This is in reference to the U.S. win over the heavily favored Russian hockey team in the 1980 Olympics. It's as if we abolished Communism with the win or something. Anyway, these Olympics commemorate the 30th anniversary of the historic game and the media has had a collective boner over it for about a month. The stories pretty much got old forever ago.

(3:12 PM) Justin: Where would you go in our time machine? Back to 1990 for the last time the Reds were good?
Kevin: The Reds went to the playoffs in '95. I may go back to the 1991 World Series. Twins and Braves. Best series I've ever seen. Jack Morris near perfection in game seven. You?
Justin: The day I met you. Best day of my life
Kevin: That's true. Is there a way I could go back and meet myself? The euphoria would be indescribable.
Justin: I feel like you would be disappointed.
Kevin: Prediction before the game starts? I say Canada 4-2.
Justin: You would pick Canada. You would dodge the draft if there was another war too, wouldn't you?
Kevin: Yes, I would. I'm not allowing my pride to step in front of my common sense. I mean, I assume that since I'm picking Canada, the U.S. will win. I'm terrible at picking games. See what I'm doing here, Justin?
Justin: Brian says "If USA scores first, they win. If not, they lose." Heart says 4-3 USA. Brian says 4-1 Canada. My prediction: US 2-1.

First off, I am terrible at picking games. I actually really enjoy gambling but am terrible at it. Pretty smart, right? Anyway, Justin crushed me at betting and picking games throughout the football season, so I'm trying to use a reverse jinx here. Justin just doesn't recognize it because he's a dimwit.

Secondly, "Brian" refers to Justin's good friend Brian Kazarian who works for the Dallas Stars, a real life hockey team. Brian actually knows what he's talking about with hockey, so you'll see his name pop up regularly.

(3:19 PM) Kevin: That's stupid, Justin. There'll be at least five goals scored. Fights?
Justin: Why? That's the stupidest thing you have ever said.
Kevin: I say two fights. Three goals? You don't know you're hockey. Not like me.
Justin: You don't know "your" grammar. Not like me. Burn!!!!
Kevin: Bah! I want them to bring the pink-hockey-puck-dot back for this game. Marketing genius!

Back in the mid-90s, NBC (I think) had the brilliant idea to shadow the puck with a pink dot so the television audience could see it better (think the yellow first down line in football, only dumb and pointless).

(3:21 PM) Justin: I seriously can't see the puck at all. My glasses are in the car, and I can't see shit.
Kevin: Man, you'll be 30 soon. It becomes more and more evident each day I talk to you.
Justin: I just texted Brian, "Hockey would be a lot better if it was basketball." That will piss him off. I love making fun of hockey with him.
Kevin: I'm getting excited for the NBA playoffs. Wait, did I just say that? I'm rooting for the Nuggets. Fuck you.
Justin: Me too. I've been catching some more games here and there lately. Watched the whole second half of Hawks vs. Warriors the other night and enjoyed it.
Kevin: I'm starting to become disinterested in college basketball and more engaged with the NBA. I have no problem with this development.
Justin: I've been there for a long time. Aside from the tournament, which is only good a the beginning because you get to watch all the surprises, it's a vastly inferior product.
Kevin: It's true. Play-by-play hockey announcers remind me of the Micro Machines Man.
Justin: Ha! That's awesome. Great comment. You take the early lead in "cleverest and coolest things said today."
Kevin: Would you live in Canada? I'd have no problem with it at all. I kind of think it'd be awesome.
Justin: Never. I have no intention of moving any further away from Mexico than I already am.
Kevin: But it's full of manly things. Like trees, lumberjacks, Sasquatch, hockey, and beards. You're not manly?

Justin often has bouts of manliness with a few of our good friends. This often involves doing pushups, eating raunchy amounts of meat, or growing beards (see above).

(3:30 PM) Justin: How dare you. I could live in Canada with no problem, I just choose not to.
Kevin: Haha . . .
Justin: Your description of Canada was a perfect description of my hometown . . . aside from the hockey.
Kevin: Sasquatch?
Justin: You bet. Bigfoot is huge up there.
Kevin: Really? Oh man . . .
Justin: Willow Creek is the area with the most "sightings" of Bigfoot in the U.S.
Kevin: One of my favorite mythic figures. That and Sarah Palin.
Justin: Bigfoot museums, Bigfoot tree sculptures, Bigfoot t-shirts. All over the place up there. Sarah Palin . . . look at you making political jokes all casual-like.
Kevin: Politics! Okay, back to sports and obscure pop culture references where I belong.
Justin: So is the U.S. team all the guys with last names like "Miller" and "Johnson," and the Canadians are all the strange names I can't understand.
Kevin: Precisely. I was just thinking the same thing. They just said that the U.S. is the home team. This is nonsensical.
Justin: Higher seed. It's like dugouts in Little League. It doesn't matter.

Because the U.S. went into the game undefeated, including a preliminary game against Canada, they were designated the home team. I found this to be both understandable and strange.

(3:37 PM) Kevin: I get it. It's just weird. Wouldn't you say that pretzels are generally mediocre? I eat them all the time because they're not fattening, but I rarely enjoy them. And I'm not talking about spiced exotic pretzels. Just plain old whatever ones. Hockey makes me want to eat pretzels.
Justin: That's because hockey is pretzels. Generally mediocre.
Kevin: Canada scores!
Justin: Uh oh. It's all over now.
Kevin: That's what Brian said right?
Justin: It is. And he actually knows stuff.
Kevin: Brian works in hockey. How could he be wrong?
Justin: I'm okay with Canada winning . . .
Kevin: Shut up!
Justin: It doesn't matter what the U.S. does in this game . . .
Kevin: You're such a turncoat. I refuse to let you give me shit for picking Canada and then change your mind and choose them too.
Justin: Either way, it will be talked about for two days in the U.S., and then everyone will go back to forgetting that hockey exists . . .
Kevin: Act American proud.
Justin: But this will make 2010 for Canada if they win, and destroy them if they lose. The USA just doesn't care.
Kevin: This is my whole point. Get off my coattails.
Justin: Which actually makes me want USA to win all the more. I take back my Canada winning sentiment. I want to humiliate them and embarrass them.
Kevin: You'd rather see a county ruined, right? That makes you a true American.
Justin: Me to Brian, "So it's over now right? Do I have to watch anymore?" Brian to me, "Yes, you can watch The Karate Kid, Part III now."

If you have any knowledge of either one of our blogs, you're more than aware that Justin and I hold a strong affinity for the Karate Kid franchise. It just so happens that ABC family was plowing through the epic tail at the same time we were having this chat. Inspiring? Fuck yes.

(3:45 PM) Kevin: Haha! I don't know what offsides mean in hockey. And I played a lot of NHL '94 growing up. I always turned offsides off.
Justin: Oh yeah. That's the best part in all of Swingers.
Kevin: I don't know what you're talking about.
Justin: You've never seen Swingers?
Kevin: I saw it . . . like ten years ago.
Justin: They play NHL '94 (or '95?) all the time in that movie. Vince Vaughn says, "I'm going to make Wayne Gretzky's head bleed." Those scenes are the best parts of the whole movie.
Kevin: NHL '94 is notorious for being the only year of the game that fighting isn't included. Cam Neely, Ray Bourque, Adam Oates. These are the Boston Bruins of '94.
Justin: I know. And the fact that Jon Favreau included that in the movie is fantastic.
Kevin: That's the extent of my NHL knowledge. Too bad he's a hack now.
Justin: Chris Chelios. Jeremy Roenick.
Kevin: Yzerman.
Justin: Jaromir Jagr.
Kevin: Lemieux.
Justin: Curtis Joseph (Cu-Jo).
Kevin: Whoa!
Justin: Brett Hull
Kevin: I can't think of any others.
Justin: I'm running out quickly now.
Kevin: Ummm . . .
Justin: Ha.
Kevin: The Detroit Red Wings were unbeatable. Who else was on that team?
Justin: Messier!
Kevin: Messier!
Justin: Not on that team, but another name.
Kevin: Hahahaha! He was on the Rangers.
Justin: Gordie Howe?
Kevin: Hmmmm . . . I really enjoyed it when we name random players off of baseball teams from the 90s.

We've done this several times sitting around on warm summer evenings guzzling cans of Budweiser. We just pick a sports team (mainly baseball) circa any year and start rattling off names of players. It's even more enjoyable than it sounds.

(3:51 PM) Justin: Sergei Federov (more recent, but he's been around for a while). Moises Alou.
Kevin: Federov is a good one. The Expos! Andre Dawson. Pedro.
Justin: Dennis "Oil Can" Boyd.
Kevin: Tim Raines. Fight!

Some hockey ruffians just started hitting each other in the face. Shit's bound to happen at some point.

(3:52 PM) Justin: I need to do exercises like this regularly to keep my mind sharp . . . now that I'm almost 30.
Kevin: That's number one for fights.
Justin: How many did you say? I didn't make a guess.
Kevin: I said two.
Justin: Are the Special Olympics only every four years? Are there Winter Special Olympics?
Kevin: I have no idea. I do know they're not called the Special Olympics anymore, though.
Justin: What are they called?
Kevin: Nevermind . . . they are. Sorry. I thought it was changed for political correctness reasons. "Let me win. But if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt." That's the motto. Okay, we should probably back out of this topic before we say something stupid and offensive.
Justin: Agreed.
Kevin: What do you think Ralph Macchio is doing right now?
Justin: I think he hangs out at the Playboy mansion a lot now. I don't know why I think that. It has something to do with Adam Carolla or something.
Kevin: You think he's gonna show up in the Karate Kid remake? Why wouldn't he?
Justin: Apparently he shows up in Ugly Betty episodes from time to time and has a Law & Order: Criminal Intent coming up soon.
Kevin: I'd rather he be doing nothing other than wallowing in a gutter somewhere.
Justin: He has a family to support.
Kevin: I wonder what that's like. Seems too expensive.
Justin: I feel like USA is doing nothing that remotely resembles anything close to scoring a goal. I could be wrong because I have no idea what is going on.
Kevin: My interest is waning. I assume I'll be engaged again in the last five minutes of the third quarter.
Justin: Hockey should just be one period. Or three periods of five minutes. That would be enough.
Kevin: Would I care more if I had an NHL team to follow? Probably.
Justin: I guess. I've never had success in trying to care.
Kevin: This shit is toast! How could they lose?

Canada scored again.

(4:16 PM) Justin: Yeah, USA has no heart. Canada is finally getting us back for stealing Gretzky.
Kevin: So, that's what this is all about? I get it now.
Justin: Time to settle the score. Brian just told me that these refs are terrible. I have no idea what he is talking about. Do you?
Kevin: Absolutely not. Hockey has refs?
Justin: Ha.
Kevin: Power play!
Justin: USA scores on this power play.
Kevin: Have they had one shot on goal all match? Doesn't seem like it.
Justin: I don't think so. Does the U.S. still have most medals and most golds in Olympics? That's all I care about.
Kevin: Not the most golds. If Canada wins this, I think they have the most golds.
Justin: Dang. That's what is most important as far as I'm concerned. I believe No Fear said it best, "Second place is the first loser."

The U.S. ended up with the most overall medals (37), but Canada had five more gold medals (14-9).

(4:25 PM) Kevin: Hahahaha! I miss football.
Justin: If the Malone on the USA team was Karl, we might have a chance to win this thing.
Kevin: I like what you did there, but Karl Malone was a perpetual loser. Jerry Sloan's been the coach of the Jazz for 75 years but hasn't ever won shit. Utah seems content with being adequate. The entire state seems content.
Justin: The only thing Utah has to offer is a strange lake with too high of a salt content. Is that even a good thing? I doubt it. How did Salt Lake City get an Olympics?
Kevin: Ohhhhh! Score! Patrick Kane! He plays for the Blackhawks. I feel like I had something to do with that goal.
Justin: How did you have anything to do with that? You were making fun of Utah.
Kevin: Because I live in Chicago and know that he plays for the Blackhawks.
Justin: Oh, I can't believe I didn't make that connection . . . it's so obvious and logical.
Kevin: Exactly. Thank you for recognizing.
Justin: Patrick Roy. Can't believe we forgot that one.
Kevin: He was around in '94?
Justin: I don't know. But he played hockey
Kevin: Very good, Justin.
Justin: If you publish this, are you going to correct my capitalization and grammar?
Kevin: Yes, yes I am. I can't help it.
Justin: You are ridiculous.
Kevin: I can't help it. I need the uniformity.
Justin: I will capitalize any comments that I think will be funny from now on.
Kevin: Hahaha.
Justin: Do you have an opinion on this issue the NHL is raising about whether to allow the players to be in Olympics in 2014?
Kevin: I think it's disgusting not to allow the best players in the world to represent their countries. Doesn't that go against the whole idea of the Olympics?
Justin: It would be good for Cincinnati Cyclones hockey. Maybe some of those guys would get a chance, and more of the world would be introduced to Twister.
Kevin: That comment was definitely capitalized.
Justin: It wasn't too long ago that pros didn't play in basketball. And they still don't in baseball, right?
Kevin: What are you talking about, dude? The World Baseball Classic! That's what it's all about.
Justin: The WBC doesn't even get the best players. I'm worried about Heidi coming home soon and taking the computer away from me. No way she lets me control the Internet and the TV. It just doesn't work like that around here.

The looming fear that Justin's delightful wife, Heidi, would come home and steal him away from an even more delightful chat about a sport she doesn't care about at all began making us a little uneasy.

(4:39 PM) Kevin: You're gonna miss the third quarter?
Justin: Umm, it's third period you jackass. Your stupidity has lowered the reliability and validity of our commentary.
Kevin: Yes, yes it is. That's as dumb as getting sick. And showing your vulnerability. Like a weakling.

The same man that once proclaimed his blood could cure AIDS has been sickly for an extended period of time. The only acceptable reaction from his friends should be incessant ridicule.

(4:42 PM) Justin: What if people figure out that we don't know anything about hockey? It would ruin the whole thing. By the way, I'm sending you a letter right now. And yes, it's laced with Anthrax. We will see how "tough" you are when you get Anthrax.
Kevin: Well, at least I won't be telling jokes relating to something that happened five years ago. Maybe seven years.
Justin: Anthrax is timeless. Are you getting this World Equestrian Games commercial? Apparently it takes place in KY. I might go.
Kevin: What are you talking about?
Justin: The World Equestrian Games. Did that commercial play in Chicago?
Kevin: No. Why would it?
Justin: Because it's the World Equestrian Games. It's kind of a big deal.
Kevin: It's not a big deal at all, and you don't really care about it, do you?
Justin: No, no I don't.
Kevin: Kentucky just seems like a wrong fit for you. Chicago's more manly and bustling. More your style. You should probably move here. What do you think?

If you were unaware, Justin and Heidi are in fact moving to Chicago this summer.

(4:50 PM) Justin: We will see what happens. Can I fish and hunt in Chicago? That might be a deal-breaker.
Kevin: Uhhh . . . Wisconsin is a mere hop, skip, and jump away. I'm going to a shooting range soon. To shoot shit with guns.
Justin: Awesome. Nothing better than shooting guns.
Kevin: Hockey would be more interesting if crossbows were involved.
Justin: Is the entire state of Wisconsin just a frozen tundra of wildlife and nature?
Kevin: Wisconsin rules.
Justin: How are you going to get crossbows involved in hockey?
Kevin: How could I not get crossbows involved in hockey? Stupid, Justin.
Justin: Eh. Sounds pretty far-fetched. Not nearly as practical and interesting as adding guns to bobsled.
Kevin: That's true. Shooting targets as your barreling down a sheet of ice? Great idea. You know how many random Sasquatch will probably be killed due to stray bullets?
Justin: Sasquatches (Sasquatchi?).
Kevin: Sasquatchen. Like oxen.
Justin: And mousen.
Kevin: Nah...that one is meese. Like geese. How do you not know this? Canada's full of caribou, right? Caribou are the ferocious human-eating cousin to the moose right?
Justin: Caribou are the weak, effeminate, distant relative of the elk.
Kevin: I'm pretty sure they eat humans.
Justin: You have your large game beasts all mixed up. Icing!
Kevin: No, they eat humans and woolly mammoths. I know what icing is! It's one of the few rules I get.
Justin: I don't. But don't explain it to me, because I don't care.
Kevin: Will do.
Justin: Momentum left the U.S.
Kevin: I'm cool with not scoring until five minutes left when the intensity rises ten-fold.
Justin: As long as it isn't 3-1 or worse by then.
Kevin: No TV timeouts is the best thing ever.
Justin: True. Football is the worst for that.
Kevin: Just terrible.
Justin: Crosby has been nowhere this whole game. Isn't he supposed to be good, or something?
Kevin: I suppose. I like Alexander Ovechkin. He seems fiery.

We tried acting hockey-intelligent for a second by throwing out names of current NHL superstars. It didn't work.

(5:05 PM) Justin: I am told that he is fiery, but I have never witnessed it.
Kevin: He's fiery. Can you ice skate?
Justin: Not a chance. I can't roller skate, so there is no way I would even get on the ice
Kevin: I'd call you "old stiff legs" if I saw you rollerskating.
Justin: No you wouldn't.
Kevin: The announcer makes me want to pump my fist. He's great and intense as fuck.
Justin: It's getting furious. Can you feel the pressure building?
Kevin: I sure can. This may be the point when we include exclamation points with every message so that we can translate the intensity. Like this!
Justin: I don't like that idea!
Kevin: Fair enough!
Justin: Now I am just laughing out loud!
Kevin: I've been sitting on this extremely uncomfortable couch for far too long!
Justin: So have I! My ass and lower back are throbbing!
Kevin: I'm developing blood clots in my legs!
Justin: I am getting testicular cancer from holding this laptop over my junk for so long!
Kevin: You topped me! Five minutes left!
Justin: Offsides halts momentum! I love that horn!
Kevin: I want to play sports in the cold so it's acceptable for me to blow snot rockets on camera!
Justin: I want to play baseball so it's acceptable for me to adjust my scrotum on camera!
Kevin: Icing!
Justin: Put the puck in the back of the net is great innuendo!
Kevin: It really is! Crosby sucks!
Justin: Crosby chokes! AHAHAHAH!
Kevin: THE INTENSITY HAS NOW CONVERTED TO ALL CAPS AND EXCLAMATION POINTS! TWO MINUTES LEFT!
Justin: ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO THIS?!
Kevin: No I changed my mind. All caps is terrible!
Justin: Save it for the really big moments!
Kevin: I'm freaking out over here! Pull the goalie! This is for the gold medal!
Justin: Pull the goalies! That's great! Get in a fight!
Kevin: Do you think the American coaches speak English and the Canadian coaches speak Canadian?!
Justin: Break the glass surrounding the rink with the puck!
Kevin: Maul the fans!
Justin: They squeak and honk like geese! EMPTY NET!
Kevin: EMPTY NET! Time to step it up!
Justin: APOCALYPSE!
Kevin: Damn, all these timeouts are killing the momentum!
Justin: TIME OUT!
Kevin: Damn! I want crackhead-like intensity!
Justin: The timeouts are my favorite part of hockey! Face Off! Travolta! Cage! SCORE SCORE SCORE!
Kevin: Oh man!!!!! SCORE SCORE SCORE! Bedlam! Do you think they're rioting in the DC streets yet!?!

Already in an outright frenzy, the U.S. scored to tie things up. Shit was intense.

(5:28 PM) Justin: Overtime!
Kevin: I'm not in the mood!
Justin: All of the sudden I'm getting all these texts from people who I didn't even know were watching!
Kevin: Me too! Shorty and Russ! They're the worst!

Unbeknown to us, we had other friends wrapped up in hockey mania. Wild, right?

(5:33 PM) Justin: Shorty probably thinks it is soccer, and Russ is just drunk and watching Full House reruns!
Kevin: Russ is probably just watching a Law & Order episode, and he just figured out who the real killer is! Should we kill the exclamation points!?
Justin: Most likely. Especially when the game is not on.
Kevin: Phew . . . I'm exhausted. Jeremy Roenick is being a little too excited.
Justin: Next he is going to flash a metal sign. Heidi will be home in five minutes. I can't get kicked off now.
Kevin: This is the commercial I was talking about! It's awesome. Nike commercial.
Justin: What band is this? LT! LA!

I got really way too excited about a new Nike commercial I like a bunch. Justin's referring to LaDainian Tomlinson and Lance Armstrong, who both show up in the commercial.

(5:39 PM) Kevin: I don't know who the band that is, but the commercial rules. The fact that LT is in it is a disgrace. What a whiny bitch. Please don't let Heidi kick you off the Internet. That'd be a travesty.
Justin: What about Lance Armstrong? That's even worse.
Kevin: What? Lance Armstrong has accomplished a ton of things. Say what you want about his personality, but the dude's a winner.
Justin: You mean whiner.
Kevin: Good one. LT was amazing . . . was. Now he can go away and stop thinking he's worth a shit anymore.
Justin: Leave him alone. At least he has balls.
Kevin: Lance has one. I think.
Justin: I think the band in that commercial is the Hours.
Kevin: They're playing "The Final Countdown" over the speakers at the arena.
Justin: The song is called "All in the Jungle" and is from their 2007 release, "Narcissus."
Kevin: Thank you for that, Justin. I feel like the U.S. wins this thing now. Canada's gonna play tight.
Justin: I told you. Too bad you're a traitor.
Kevin: You're the worst.
Justin: I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free.
Kevin: Yeah, Canada's like Iran.
Justin: Have fun in Canada. Brian says this thing will end this period. I don't know why.
Kevin: Someone's gonna score.
Justin: That comment would have been better with an exclamation point: "Someone's gonna score!"
Kevin: I'd have multiple heart attacks if I was a goalie!
Justin: We could never do it!
Kevin: I was a goalie in soccer and couldn't hack it!
Justin: I never played soccer!
Kevin: Whoa!

Canada's golden boy, Sidney Crosby, scored the winning goal. Game over: Canada wins 3-2.

(5:53 PM) Justin: Of course.
Kevin: Well, there you have it!
Justin: Should have seen that coming.
Kevin: Of course it was Crosby. It looked like a fluke.
Justin: That kid's legacy is going to just keep growing.
Kevin: Okay, so we beat them once and they beat us once. Best out of three right?
Justin: This crowd seems to be enjoying this
Kevin: Yes they do. I'd enjoy a replay of the goal.
Justin: Well, you got what you wanted. Congratulations. It should be two of three. What a dumb rule. We beat them a few days ago.
Kevin: But that was a "preliminary" game. Whatever that means.
Justin: Single elimination is the only way a tournament should be played. So, I guess that's about it. Perfect timing.
Kevin: Bye bye! I should have this up on Monday or something.
Justin: I just watched an entire hockey game! With overtime! I feel very proud of myself.

The end. I hope you enjoyed the Olympics as much as we acted like we did.