I see the cities on the envelopes of the pool entries: Columbus, Pasadena, Iowa City, State College, Los Angeles, Tempe . . . and I think football. Others may read them as towns, the post office may read them as zip codes, and I read them as Ohio State, UCLA, Iowa, Penn State, USC, and ASU. Or Buckeyes, Bruins, Hawkeyes, Nittany Lions, Trojans, and Sun Devils.
This morning I sat in front of my giant screen HDTV and watched the ESPN College Game Day preview show. The voices of Kirk Herbstreit, Lee Corso, Mark May and the others were music to my ears- like hearing the return of long-lost relatives from a sabbatical painfully prolonged. Even though not a single football has been snapped this season, every highlight featured on the show was a tantalizing glimpse that had me yearning for more.
This afternoon I had my traditional start-of-the-season "football haircut." The Hawkeye Barbershop was packed with students and faculty getting ready for the new school year (classes start Monday). The gossip was all about the hometown Hawkeyes, the recent credit card fraud scandal with a couple of wide receivers, and the upcoming road trip to Chicago that will essentially be an Iowa home game only 4 hours from campus. As I've said before, Iowa City is just a far west suburb of Chicago. The Hawkeye Barbershop gets football schedule posters from each Big-10 team and has them signed by each coach at the Big-10 media day (usually in Chicago). As I sit in the chair, getting my hair trimmed by the talented Kelly (who trimmed Coach Kirk Ferentz the same AM), I study each poster, looking for the cupcakes, the tough games, the rivalries, and, most importantly, the potential upsets.
Because this pool is all about the dogs, baby!
First games are Thursday. I can't wait. Can you?
Fight On,
Hans
PS: My traditional sign off, "Fight On" is a long standing motto of USC, and the title of our fight song. Yet some yahoo in State College decided to make it the slogan for this year's Penn State schedule poster. To the Lions: you suck. Be more original.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Thursday, August 9, 2007
The Peak of Summer
Summer has peaked.
The best measure of the summer season is the garden. I know we've peaked because the tomatoes are finally ready to eat, the dill has gone to seed, and we have more squash than we know what to do with. Seriously- I actually have squash coming out of my . . . well . . . you know. When we went to the Farmer's Market tonight, every table was selling squash of every conceivable shape and color. There is so much flipping squash here that we have to struggle with inventing new ways to eat it.
Then there is the corn. Ahhh . . . the corn. Iowa sweet corn is the reason we endure 90 degree heat with 90% humidity. When the first local corn goes on sale, everyone's diet changes. Before, we ate barbequed pork, grilled steaks, and more flipping squash. When the corn shows up, a few ears will do . . . every night. It's that good. And best of all we can leave the squash for the goats and chickens.
I rode all of RAGBRAI this year (the Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa), a bike across all of Iowa from the Missouri River to the Mississippi. It was fantastic- great
company, music, bike riding, Lance Armstrong, perfect weather, beautiful scenery (except Western Iowa which is way boring and flat), and lots of wonderful food. As I wrote last year, it's like biking through a state fair. The most amazing thing about the ride is the outpouring of hospitality that we see in every little farm town the ride passes through. Every 4-H club, every rotary club, every cub scout troop, and every church group turns out with a table full of pies, brats, pork, cinnamon rolls, steaks, funnel cakes, waffles, pancakes, and, of course, sweet corn. Thankfully, no squash. The best roadside stand was a farmer who pulled up his combine full of freshly picked corn, laid out of huge charcoal grill, and had a vat of melted butter. Get this- for a dollar, the guy grabs an ear out of his bin, throws it on the grill, and then peels it and dips it in the butter. After the first 10 ears, the paramedics had to drag me off the lawn where I had succumbed to a fat laden sweet corn coma.
But just like any great movie, we eventually must arrive at Act III. The protagonist has reached his nadir, and begins to rally towards the triumphant climax. Summer is finally at Act III. The corn will only last a few more precious weeks. The beautiful and dramatic Midwestern thunderstorms will become less frequent. The remaining herbs will wilt and prepare for their long winter ordeal. The humidity in the air will fade, giving rise to cool mornings and perfectly warm, pleasant evenings. And it will be time for football!
The underdog pool is coming soon. See you in a few weeks! Enjoy the squash.
The best measure of the summer season is the garden. I know we've peaked because the tomatoes are finally ready to eat, the dill has gone to seed, and we have more squash than we know what to do with. Seriously- I actually have squash coming out of my . . . well . . . you know. When we went to the Farmer's Market tonight, every table was selling squash of every conceivable shape and color. There is so much flipping squash here that we have to struggle with inventing new ways to eat it.
Then there is the corn. Ahhh . . . the corn. Iowa sweet corn is the reason we endure 90 degree heat with 90% humidity. When the first local corn goes on sale, everyone's diet changes. Before, we ate barbequed pork, grilled steaks, and more flipping squash. When the corn shows up, a few ears will do . . . every night. It's that good. And best of all we can leave the squash for the goats and chickens.
I rode all of RAGBRAI this year (the Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa), a bike across all of Iowa from the Missouri River to the Mississippi. It was fantastic- great
company, music, bike riding, Lance Armstrong, perfect weather, beautiful scenery (except Western Iowa which is way boring and flat), and lots of wonderful food. As I wrote last year, it's like biking through a state fair. The most amazing thing about the ride is the outpouring of hospitality that we see in every little farm town the ride passes through. Every 4-H club, every rotary club, every cub scout troop, and every church group turns out with a table full of pies, brats, pork, cinnamon rolls, steaks, funnel cakes, waffles, pancakes, and, of course, sweet corn. Thankfully, no squash. The best roadside stand was a farmer who pulled up his combine full of freshly picked corn, laid out of huge charcoal grill, and had a vat of melted butter. Get this- for a dollar, the guy grabs an ear out of his bin, throws it on the grill, and then peels it and dips it in the butter. After the first 10 ears, the paramedics had to drag me off the lawn where I had succumbed to a fat laden sweet corn coma.
But just like any great movie, we eventually must arrive at Act III. The protagonist has reached his nadir, and begins to rally towards the triumphant climax. Summer is finally at Act III. The corn will only last a few more precious weeks. The beautiful and dramatic Midwestern thunderstorms will become less frequent. The remaining herbs will wilt and prepare for their long winter ordeal. The humidity in the air will fade, giving rise to cool mornings and perfectly warm, pleasant evenings. And it will be time for football!
The underdog pool is coming soon. See you in a few weeks! Enjoy the squash.
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