First, a confession and update: I did not post a blog entry for the weekend of October 21-23. It was a big weekend that included a road trip to South Bend, so I intended to write the story. I got busy, got behind, and did not get it done. To catch up, I will give the brief version in Haiku:
Open road to South Bend
Father Daughter Bonding Time
Irish pain Trojan glory
Ok, that was lame.
Sophie and I drove to Sawyer, Michigan, a sleepy little community on the eastern edge of Lake Michigan, a mere 45 minutes from South Bend. We walked on the beach, visited a steam train museum (awesome!) and ate fabulous food. Saturday night, while Uncle Steve (GoBlue!) went to the game, we, along with Grandad (Mouse), cuddled on the couch at our friend's house to watch USC- Notre Dame. We were all stunned by the Trojan performance.. Their emotional intensity and play execution was unlike anything we had seen in years. Where has this team been? Why can’t we play like that every weekend? We had so much fun with USC- Notre Dame we didn't get a chance to watch the Michigan State- Wisconsin game and resulting hail-Mary goodness. USC's success against the Irish left us wondering- could we repeat the magic against Stanford?
For this week's blog, I am trying an experiment. I posted status updates on Facebook all week, many more than I usually post. I am using those posts as an outline; here goes.
Wednesday: I want Floyd back
Floyd of Rosedale is a bronze pig that goes to the winner of the Iowa - Minnesota game. The prize originated as a live pig that the Governor of Minnesota won from the Governor of Iowa in 1934. That first pig, Floyd, came from Rosedale farms and was the brother of the pig seen in the movie State Fair. Iowa lost Floyd to Minnesota last year in a 27-24 debacle in Minneapolis. Prior to that, Floyd had lived in Iowa City for 8 of the first 9 years of our Iowa existence.
Thursday: USC plays Stanford this weekend. It's the one day a year my wife actually cares about football. Thanks, Mr Luck.
The big news around the House household was, of course, the USC - Stanford game. Kristi doesn't care much for football (and I still love her immensely- that just shows how amazing she is!). But when her alma mater has a chance to embarrass the Trojans on national television, suddenly she "discovers" the game again. Now that Stanford has found its winning ways, she gets more snippy than usual. All due to Andrew Luck. Thanks, buddy.
Early Friday morning: http://www.rumdiarythemovie.com/ It has rum in the title. I like it already.
I had a late shift Thursday night and, combined with a late shift on Wednesday night and a day of residency interviews I was effectively in the hospital for 32 straight hours with a short 4 hours of sleep. Needless to say, I was more than a little zonked as I returned home, sat on the couch, sipped rum, and surfed the net. I knew this Johnny Depp biopic about Hunter S. Thompson's early days was opening, so I posted a link to its website and trailer. Johnny Depp + Hunter S Thompson + rum = Hans needs to see this movie before the close of the weekend.
Early Saturday morning: Rum and chocolate: Nice end to a long shift.
Another late shift on Friday, the end of a string of three. I have a tradition in the ER that when I am on my last of a string of shifts I wear special green scrubs (not unlike the fabled green jerseys of Notre Dame) and buy pizza for the department. The nurses LOVE seeing me in green scrubs. When I got home, I was in that usual schizoid blend of exhausted and wired. I was mentally fatigued from making so many decisions about life threatening conditions, but pumped that I was able to touch so many lives. I was worn out from standing on my feet for 8 hours but still tremulous from the constant infusion of caffeine and adrenaline that is the ER. To unwind I often watch mindless TV and sip an adult beverage. As regular readers of this column may note, I have been on a rum kick of late. You can blame the Smuggler's Cove in San Francisco for that. Yes, their drinks are really that good. I discovered that Pyrat XO from Guiana pairs exceptionally well with milk chocolate and cherries.
Saturday morning, 9 am: Go Trojans! Beat the Cardinal!
After a week of anticipation, the big day was here. We gathered in the kitchen for game day pancakes and watched ESPN College Game Day from the Coliseum. The teams were well represented for 7 am on a Saturday in Exposition Park, and the signs were the usual mix of boasting and bitterness. The "winning" sign according to Game Day's Facebook contest was "Andrew Luck wears Skinny Jeans". Cute. But I also liked, "Stanford has Luck. So did the Irish". But my personal favorite was, "Our 75 are better than your 85" (referring to the upcoming reduction in scholarships). After I posted this, a friend pointed out (again) that we are not eligible for a bowl game this year. I loudly replied that tonight IS OUR BOWL GAME!
Saturday afternoon, 5:30 pm: Yard work under blue skies and football all day long. Best Saturday in a while.
I had nothing to do all day but clean the yard and watch football. It was awesome. It was a perfect fall day: sunny, high 50's, no wind. I ran my riding mower and lawn sweeper (new gadget- very cool) to clean all the leaves from the lawn. Yep, almost no raking for me! And I dug trenches so Sophie and Kristi could plant bulbs. We got 90 tulips into the ground and we have another 90 to go plus over 100 daffodils. Every hour or so I took a break and peeked in on Oklahoma State - Baylor (dang- I really thought the Generals were due in that one!), Oklahoma - Kansas State, Illinois - Penn State, and Iowa - Minnesota.
Saturday evening, 6:00 pm: I miss Floyd. And congrats to JoPa- officially the greatest ever
The afternoon games ended, with heartbreak for Hawkeyes and elation for Lions. Iowa led for most of the game with Minnesota, and I was just starting to imagine how great it will look when Vandenburg and McNutt carry the bronze pig off the field and back home where he belongs. But Iowa was out-coached, something that almost never happens to Kirk Ferentz. The Gopher's execution of an onside kick in the middle of the 4th quarter was the best I have ever seen. Floyd must wait another year, stuck in the frozen north. At the same time, JoPa was achieving yet another pinnacle in his remarkable career. In a cold, snowy, figurative and literal white out in happy valley, Penn State battled Illinois to a standstill. In the waning minutes, the Lions scored their only touchdown of the game and took the lead. With no time on the clock, Illinois attempted the tying field goal and hit the upright. State College erupted to celebrate number 409: the four hundred ninth win of JoPa's career, the most of any division 1 coach. Ever. To paraphrase Bob Miller, by passing Eddie Robinson, JoPa "the Great One is now the greatest of them all." (consider yourself a true LA Kings fan if you understood that one. Fun Fact: Bob Miller graduated from the University of Iowa). By the way, if you are somehow not impressed with 409 wins, think of them this way: to get that total, a coach only has to win 10 games a season for 41 years . . . 10 wins, EVERY season, 41 years. Wow.
Saturday evening, 7:00 pm: USC - Stanford kickoff! Game time menu: pan seared scallops in fig sauce and fig - Gorgonzola tart!
Kristi is a very good cook. I am a decent cook. When we cook together, magical things tend to happen. On this night, Kristi brought home fresh figs. Readers on the coast may scoff at us hicks on prairie, but fresh figs are a rare treat here. They deserve to be honored by an appropriate meal. Our usual approach is a fig tart, made by rolling out dough (from Trader Joe's of course), topping with grilled onions, trimmed and halved figs, gorgonzola cheese, and fresh rosemary (you can also drizzle with honey if desired). It is heavenly. Kristi took the leftover figs, dug some frozen scallops out of the freezer, and created an amazing appetizer. She pan seared the scallops in oil, then added wine, butter, and figs to pan afterwards. We poured this fig sauce over the scallops and viola- a two course masterpiece. It paired perfectly with a 2009 Frank Family Pinot Noir, a delightful sweet red with hints of brown sugar, smoke, and fig.
Saturday night, 10:00 pm: Pick 6 on Luck late in 4th! ALL RIGHT NOW!
The Stanford - USC game had been raging for 3 hours. On an electric night in Los Angeles, I have only heard the coliseum crowd this loud two times before: in breaking the streak against Notre Dame in 1996 and de-facto Pac-10 championship against Cal in 2004. With three minutes remaining in the game and the score tied, Stanford lined up to start their drive to take the lead. Luck was promptly picked off by Nickell Robey who returned it 20 yards for the go ahead score. USC was up by 7, the stadium was in pandemonium, and Stanford's will was broken.
Or so I thought.
Luck went to the sideline, tapped himself with his hand, saying "My bad", and went out onto the field to lead the final drive to tie the game and win it in overtime. As far as I am concerned, after that clutch performance in bouncing back from adversity, Luck has the Heisman locked up.
Interesting side note here: the Stanford fight song, played by the infamously irreverent Stanford band, is "All Right Now" by Free. Ironically, the USC Trojan Marching Band (affectionately known as the Greatest Marching Band in the History of the Universe), will play "All Right Now" whenever USC recovers a turnover (ie whenever the opposing team screws up). Therefore, Free was heard more than a few times Saturday night.
Unbelievable shoot out between two great quarterbacks. I'm sorry we lost, but that was one of the best games I've seen in years
In the end, this 3 OT thriller was one for the ages. I would have much preferred that the Trojans had ended on the winning end of things, but this time Luck really was on the Cardinal's side. It was the kind of game that neither team deserved to lose. USC could have done a couple more things to win (not make a personal foul on an incomplete pass on 3rd down on Stanford's last drive, actually go down after catching the ball and calling a time out rather than running across the field to get out of bounds, etc), but in the end the final score is what matters. I have tried to console myself by reiterating what an amazing game it was, but it is still a bitter pill to swallow. Especially when your wife is only too happy to rub it in. Ironically, it was the best USC game since the 2005 Rose Bowl / BCS championship against Texas. Yeah- we lost that classic too. The last "greatest game in history" that we actually won? That would be the Bush Push. Hear that Domers?
After the emotional roller coaster I endured Saturday night, I needed to indulge in cinematic fantasy. Cue The Rum Diary, which I went to see Sunday night. It was not a great movie, but it was certainly entertaining. It was fun, well acted by Depp, and was EXACTLY what I wanted to see. It tells the story of a young writer arriving to a new job in a foreign place where he falls in love with a woman and in love with his new locale. And there was lots of rum drinking. The story is a fictionalized autobiography of Hunter S. Thompson's first job in journalism. The facts are sketchy (anything dealing with Thompson are light on fact!), but we do know that in 1960 Thompson moved from New York to San Juan, Puerto Rico to join a sports periodical that folded soon after his arrival (just like in the movie).
Thompson created the genre known as Gonzo journalism, roughly defined as "wildly" subjective first person where the author immerses themselves into the story- becoming part of the action and driving the choices of the characters. Essentially, this is what "proper" journalism tells you never to do- become the story you are covering. The blurring between memoir, fiction, and journalism is an interesting corundum; something I have struggled with myself in this very column. This made me wonder: do I engage in "Gonzo journalism"? I have a few things in common with Thompson: I got my start in sports writing and I enjoy writing subjective first person accounts of my travels. On the other hand, I hardly consider Thompson to be a role model for me. I would love to be able to write so eloquently, but I am not interested in the abundant chemical stimulation he was known for. He was able to discover philosophical truths through the haze of inebriation. I just write to amuse my readers and record my journeys.
But the story of the Rum Diary did touch me in a very personal way. Ever since I started listening to Jimmy Buffet music I have embraced a secret fantasy to drop out of life, move to the Caribbean, work in an urgent care every day and drink rum every night. One of my colleagues in Emergency Medicine here at Iowa runs a medical mission in Haiti. Although many of our faculty, nurses, residents, and medical students have taken part, I have not yet gone. The biggest reason I haven't gone there is that I am afraid. I'm afraid I would love it too much and not want to come back. I stay stateside for now and keep raising Sophie. When she's off to college maybe I'll finally surrender to the "Buffet fantasy" . . .
When I got home from the movie I announced to Kristi that I would like to drop out of medicine and become a writer, and she could keep working to support me.
She was not amused and told me to go to bed. A cold splash of reality brought be back to Earth, like a fumble in the end zone in triple OT.
Fight On,
Hans
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