FINALLY, WE GOT ONE!

Dawgs I Win Their First Edge Cup


(Click to enlarge all photos- but be careful, Mike Abdella is butt-ugly)

Well, it wasn't exactly the Red Sox and Cubs, but it was starting to feel like it.

The Dawgs I team, after years of being frustrated like a fugly high school girl, at long last found a way to lose their league championship hymen. They broke open a very tight game with two third period goals, and coasted home with a well-deserved 6-3 victory over the Icebreakers.

It was a perfect team scenario for the new champs, as they featured six different goal scorers. Plus they played a solid backchecking defense that limited quality shots on time-ravaged goalkeeper Al Sterner, who is mere weeks away from being taken out behind the barn and given the same shot as Barbaro.


Barbaro, today

This summer, the Dawgs used a combination of players ranging in age from 20 to 50. In a short time, they meshed into a championship squad, getting contributions from everyone, and finished with a 12-0-1 record.

In the final, the Icebreakers drew first blood around the middle of the opening period on a goal that was a bit unlucky for the Dawgs. They centered a puck from the right side, which deflected off the stick of Dawgs defenseman Ben Ziff, past a perplexed Sterner and into the far corner of the net.


Sterner

The Dawgs had an answer just a few minutes later. Danny Packard, still reeling from losing his girlfriend last week to a teammate, took a nice centering feed from team captain and former tailgunner Marty Richardson, and lasered one past Icebreaker goalie Tom Lester to equalize.



The game stayed that way until early in the second, when EAHL leading scorer Shaun Hollis gave the Dawgs the lead. He took a rebound from a shot by The Virgin Eric Schlie, and stuffed the puck past Lester.


Hollis

That lead lasted less than two minutes. Icebreakers star defenseman Marc-Andre Piette gathered the puck at his own blue line, and was able to weave his way through the Dawgs defense for one of the few times in the game. He ripped a wrist shot over the snail-like glove of Sterner and into the top corner to level matters again.

Then two minutes later, it was the Dawgs turn to reply. Forward Chris Acuna, who shocked teammates by showing up for the game on the correct day, took a great feed from defenseman Smilin' Mike Abdella, skated in alone, and fired the puck into the back of the net. 3-2, good guys.


Acuna

It was almost a whole six minutes before the seesaw rocked back the other way, and the Icebreakers scored again to tie the contest. During a power play, an Icebreakers defenseman took a wrist shot that went through a jungle of legs, and into the lower corner past Sterner, who would have made the save, had it been, say, 1997.

Then with three minutes left in the second, the Dawgs lined up for a faceoff in the Icebreakers zone. The puck came to forward and toner boy Dan Pham, who cut in from a sharp angle towards the net. He held the puck long enough to freeze Lester, then glided across the crease and tucked the bisquit into the far corner to give his team the lead once again.


Pham and Richardson after goal, as crowd goes wild

The terrific, nail-biting game stayed at 4-3 until midway through the third period, when the Dawgs went on a power play. During the man advantage, the puck was fed back to the point, and onto the magic blade of Tito Pijanowski. Pijanowski then took a shot that fluttered off of the end of his stick. But somehow, with a sea of humanity in front of the net, the puck found it's way through everyone, including Lester, and into the lower left corner. Now it was 5-3, and the Dawgs finally had some breathing room.


Pijanowski

After the game, Pijanowski spoke with reporters. "Tito make goal for new girlfriend. Tito good lover. Tito go boom boom for 30 whole second. New Tito record."


Pijanowski and new flame

With less than a minute to go, and a faceoff in the Dawgs zone, the Icebreakers pulled Lester in favor of a sixth attacker. And that meant just one thing. It was prime time for Matt McGarvey. McGarvey, who has picked more cherries than a seven-fingered migrant farm worker, took off right from the drop like he had been shot out of a cannon, and made a beeline for the Icebreakers goal.

When the puck was eventually cleared from the Dawgs zone, McGarvey was waiting right in his "kitchen", which is the opponent's blue line. He gathered it in, skated in alone, and slid it in the empty cage to put things out of reach.


McGarvey way behind the defense...gee, no shit

A few seconds later, the final buzzer sounded, and the Dawgs had their elusive cup.




After the game, captain Richardson hoisted the hardware, along with several of his Dawgs teammates:



Nurse, bring this man a comb...stat!


Sterner hugging it so it doesn't slip through his massive five hole

The Virgin Eric Schlie, practicing for when he kisses a girl for the first time



Defenseman Rick Zimmat, leaving the cup on the ice in favor of his giant bag of weed



McGarvey lifts the trophy while being surrounded by all his friends



The Ziffer, holding up the cup with his arms, and his white-boy 'fro




In other Dawgs news:

While posing for the team photo, EAHL leading regular season goal scorer The Virgin Eric Schlie shows how many he scored in three crucial playoff games.

The Jaromir Jagr of the EAHL

Lightweight forward Rhett Brantley drinks one beer, and then throws up in the Edge Cup, ruining the celebration for everyone else.

You couldn't find a trash can?

Captain Marty Richardson seems too embarrassed to acknowledge Dawgs II forward Nick Cortese, who enthusiastically showed up to watch the championship game wearing all of his hockey equipment.

"I'm your biggest fan, Marty. Marty? Marty, it's me! Nick! Nick Cortese!"

The Edge Cup, weighing 15 pounds, proves to be very difficult to lift for star forward and noted pussy Shaun Hollis


Shaun, what's the over/under on how many ways I use this photo? 400? 500?

Forward Danny Packard tries awkwardly after the game to regain the affection of former girlfriend Lacey Undergarment. But her heart now belongs to another.

"I'm sorry, Danny. But you know the old saying: Once I've gone Tito, your penis looks like a mosquito. Hey, I made a funny! No, but seriously, yours is like a toothpick..."

Forward Matt McGarvey picks up his ninth consecutive Dawgs groupie, shattering the team record formerly held by goalie Al Sterner. This one is very attractive, and actually, the first female in the whole bunch.

Nice bedroom eyes, Matty. Is that how you seduced Shaun?

As a distant car radio plays "Reunited" by Peaches and Herb, forwards Rhett Brantley and Brad Stabio begin to suddenly slow dance and swap bodily fluids, while Eric Schlie and Rick Zimmat look on and secretly masturbate.


You have a little spooge on your shirt there, Stabs

While posing for the championship team photo, Dawgs captain Marty Richardson puts his arm around goalie Al Sterner. That is all it takes for Richardson to achieve a spontaneous orgasm.


Click this photo. Just trust me.

(Special thanks to Kathleen Ziff, who took all of these terrific pictures. The rest of the boys probably aren't as happy as I am, but screw 'em.)

Karma and Redemption in South Dakota

Last weekend we took a road trip to Rapid City, South Dakota for the last soccer tournament of the season, the Rushmore Invitational. We loaded all six of us in the family truckster for our first long car ride as a family, and off we went.

Soccer tournaments are great, because we have a core group of five or six families that all stay together in the same hotel. Or if we can swing it, we all rent a six bedroom condo for the weekend, pot-luck in a bunch of food, and just have a big old time. Everyone gets along great, and it’s one of the highlights of the year for all of us. In fact, we have a kid that isn’t on our team anymore, but they still come on the road trips because it’s so much fun.

So the tourney starts, and we play to a draw in our first two games (my kid Mike picked up a goal and two assists, thank you very much), and pretty much had to win the third game in order to move on to the final. In that game, we scored late to take a 2-1 lead. But because of an injury, the referee added time onto the end of the game. Our head coach wanted to know how much, and couldn’t get an answer out of the ref. He asked again, and was told to shut up. He asked one more time, and was ejected from the game.

Here’s why this was important. The boys ended up winning the game, and advanced to the championship on Sunday afternoon. But because of his ejection, our head coach couldn’t be on the sideline for that game. And he had no assistant coach.

Why no assistant, you ask? Let’s stop for a minute and go back a few months. Funny story about that.

For five seasons, I was the assistant coach of this team, and before that, I coached six or seven of those kids since they were around 6 years old. They’re 13 now, so I’ve been with them over half of their lives. Maybe the best seven years of my life, by the way. I got along great with the head coach, and he became one of my best friends.

Before what was going to be our last season together (they get new coaches when they turn 14), I wrote an article that appeared in a local website joking about a kid that Edge soccer had hired to coach a lower level squad in our age group. He was an idiot, treated his kids like crap, and was everything you wouldn’t want in a coach. I cracked him pretty hard, but he deserved it.

I was very careful not to mention Edge soccer, because I didn’t want to give the impression that I was running down the program. I had been on their board of directors, coached in the program for 14 years, and had put in hundreds of hours as Media Director for their women’s semi-pro team. Plus I was their Volunteer of the Year in 2007. I loved the club. I was just trying to point out that sometimes, it’s not a good idea to put kids in charge of other kids.

Well, the guy that hired the moron saw the article, and before you knew it, I was told that I couldn’t be an assistant coach for the club anymore. I guess he didn’t see the humor in the article, which doesn’t surprise me that much, because most of that organization have the personality of a car crash. But at least I’m not bitter.

So I spent the last season with my chubby ass on the other sideline with the parents. This was really unusual for me, because I’ve always been a coach in some form or another for all my kids’ teams. But that had to end sometime- I just wish it had ended under different circumstances. Plus I really missed those boys.

Now here’s the other important part of our tale, kids. I spent five seasons busting my hump not only to help coach the kids, but also trying to make the team a little family. My wife Annie and I would plan parties and team dinners, and I would write a game story every week, using Annie’s pictures to goof mostly on the parents and coaches. Much like I do with hockey, only a lot cleaner. No dick jokes. It took a lot of time, but it was fun, and we got a ton of hits on the website, even from outside our team. Everyone seemed to enjoy it.

But when I got bounced out of coaching, my “family” shunned me like I was an Amish hooker. I heard nice things from two parents, and the rest of them treated me like I was dipped in shit. No “man, that sucks, Al”, or “well, sorry, but thanks for making it fun”. Nothing.

I don’t want to sound like too much of a pussy, but that hurt, and it still hurts. I just thought we had a different relationship, that’s all.

Okay, enough of that nonsense, you’re caught up. So let’s flash forward to last Sunday. We’re in the championship game, but have no coach. The tournament committee said that we could have a parent stand on the sideline with the team, but at that level, you really need someone that knows something about the game.

Now these same parents that turned their back on me four months ago started coming up and asking, “Al, will you coach this game?” My kneejerk reaction was to ask them all to line up and take turns pressing their lips against my fuzzy white ass.

I said yes for two reasons.

First, the other coaching choice was a mom that had done nothing but bitch and moan the entire weekend, and thought she was the best person to coach the team. She almost blew a gasket lobbying to do it. The thing is, I have more knowledge of soccer in my gonads than she has in her entire body. It killed her that I was asked first. She never thought much of me as a coach.

That works out great, because I never thought much of her, either.

But the clincher came when a lot of the kids came up and asked if I would do it, including my own boy. There was no way in the world that I was going to ever let them down.

So for the first time in four years, and probably for the last time in my life, I was the head coach of a soccer team. In a championship game. For Edge Soccer. Before the game, I actually laughed about how ironic that was.

Have you ever seen the basketball movie “Hoosiers”? Great movie. Anyway, I felt like Shooter, the alcoholic assistant that had to coach when Gene Hackman got thrown out of the big game. Gene handed him the coach’s playbook, and said, “Take ‘em home, Shooter”. Then Shooter ran the “Picket Fence” play, and they won.

Well, Coach Willie went over the lineup with me before the game, and we set up a substitution pattern, got all the players in their positions, the whole nine yards. He wasn’t allowed to communicate with me at all during the game, so this was going to be the last time we would talk. We wrote it all down on a sheet of paper.

I don’t mind telling you that this was the most nervous I had ever been since I’ve coached anything, and that’s a lot of games, kids. Two hours earlier, I was playing Frisbee golf and hoping I could watch my boy play in the final. Now I was on the sideline pulling the goddamn strings in a title game, and there were at least two parents on the opposite sideline staring a hole through me. That would be the mom who thought she should be the coach, and a complete hag who joined the team this spring and has done nothing but cause trouble. I’m positive they were hoping the team would lose, just so they could say “I told you so”. I know that sounds paranoid, but you just have to know these miserable shits.

It looked like they were going to get their wish. We were up against a team from North Dakota that normally played a level up from us, and they were very, very good. They got a penalty kick on a real harsh call from the ref, and went up 1-0 in the first five minutes.

I kept my mouth shut. No way I was getting myself hucked out of this game, baby.

They went up 2-0 about ten minutes from half on a nice goal off of a crossing ball. Then they started toying with us, playing keepaway all over the field, and we weren’t getting any chances to score on their end at all. The half ended, and it didn’t look good for the lads.

I tried to talk to the kids at halftime, but everyone had their head down. Now I thought to myself, “Well, we can keep doing the same thing and lose, or try something different, and maybe really get our ass handed to us”.

Fuck it. If we’re going down, we’ll go down swinging. Let’s try the Picket Fence.

I put my lineup sheet in my pocket, and set up a new formation to get some more offense. That would leave us vulnerable in the back on defense, but who gives a shit if we lose 2-0 or 6-0? I mean, beside those two skanks on the other sideline?

I pleaded with the boys to push as hard as they could early in the second half, because I knew if we get one goal back, it would light a fire under them. I said, “Let’s ride 400 miles home tonight at least knowing we left it all on the field”.

Okay, it’s not exactly Gene Hackman, but it was the best I could come up with at the time. Cut me a break- I hadn’t done this in awhile.

The turning point of the game happened twelve minutes into the second half. Mike sent a great cross over to his pal Jay, and he headed one in from eight yards out. They’ve been playing together for six years, and know exactly where each other is on the field at all times. All of a sudden, it was 2-1.

Game on.

Now my guys were flying all over the field, challenging for every ball. I was officially in “Making This Shit Up as We Go Along” mode, asking kids if they had ever played certain positions, and subbing when I saw players getting tired. We had the other team playing on their back foot, and we just had to keep pushing for that equalizer.

With twelve minutes left, I decided to put what I thought was the best 11 players on the field, and that’s what we were going with the rest of the way. We had seven guys on offense going forward, and urgently. This was a completely different team now- I couldn’t have asked for better effort. They were leaving it all out there for sure, and it was freaking fun to watch.

With ten minutes left, Mike got fouled inside the penalty area, but the referee awarded the free kick outside. It was the only time I said anything to the ref the whole game- I begged him to consult his linesperson to see if she saw the foul inside the box. To his credit, he did, and she didn’t have the onions to reverse his call. But we still had a free kick from a good spot, about 19 yards away from goal.

It turned out to be academic. Willie’s son Tyler lobbed a beauty over the goalie’s hand, and right onto the head of midfielder Nathan, who had scored the game-winner in the previous match. He guided it in from five yards out, and we were level. Nathan might be the most clutch player on the team- just nails when you need him.

Now for those of you that have never seen me coach before, I am, what you might call, a little animated over on the sidelines. When Nathan’s header went into the net, I jumped as high as my chubby ass could get up, and started running down the sideline. I looked back and the players on the bench were laughing at me. Fair enough- you don’t often see a 50 year old pudgy dude jumping around like a little girl.

The only person more excited than me was Nathan’s dad, who was doing his own sideline sprint on his side of the field. Good for him. There’s nothing better than watching your kid succeed.

So when we started up again, there were eight minutes left in regulation. I had to start planning for extra time, and then the penalty shootout if it came down to that. I hoped that the other parents would understand, but I was not taking this team off the field.

Plus, if they did get pissed, what were they going to do, fire me? I had a free roll here, so I was sticking with those best 11 players. The son of Coach Wannabe on the other sideline wasn’t one of the 11. I found out later she was really unhappy about that. Tough shit.

Then with two minutes left, Jay got the ball running down the left side. He stopped near the corner flag, and freed himself up for a cross. That’s when he spotted my kid Mike breaking hard to the far post. Then he launched maybe the best high crossing ball I’ve ever seen, over the defenders, over the goalie, and right into Mike’s path, about six yards from the goal.

All Mike had to do was get a foot on it, and it was in. But it was a cross from around 25 yards, and it's tough to get the timing correct when you're coming in at full speed. I’ve seen kids miss this kick a thousand times, especially in a situation like this, with the game on the line.

He didn’t miss it.

He hit it perfectly on the inside of his foot, and volleyed it right into the empty net. After the game, I asked Mike to try and describe how he felt right after the ball went in.

“Dad, after I scored, I started running back upfield, and I couldn’t feel my feet touching the ground. It felt like I was running on top of the grass.”

If I live 50 more years, I’ll never forget what he said right then. A guy gets to have that rush maybe a handful of times in his entire life, and he just had one of his moments. Sudden, full, spontaneous joy. That’s reason number 850 why sports are so damn great.

As for me, I had my own little moment. Of course, I did the sprint thing down the sideline, flopping around like an idiot. Then I remembered that there was still time left, and I was still the head coach for another couple of minutes. When you’re an assistant, you have the luxury of being a cheerleader sometimes. Not now.

Keep your shit together, Shooter.

Now we were in full defensive mode. I pulled all my midfielders back, deep in our half. I kept two forwards up, just in case the ball went into their end, so they could pressure their defenders.

I looked at my watch, and regulation time ran out. I knew the referee was going to add some time on, but I didn’t know it was going to be three freaking minutes.

It was the longest three minutes of my coaching life, and maybe the most fun. They were coming hard, trying to tie it back up. And I was certain that if they did, we had shot our wad with the comeback, and would lose the damn thing in overtime.

We just couldn’t lose now. Not after that effort. Not after that improbable comeback against a better team. Not now.

North Dakota’s last chance came when they got a corner kick right at the end. I knew they would be sending everyone, including maybe their goalie, into the box, so I countered by putting all 11 of our guys in with them. If they scored, they were going to have to do it through a sea of humanity.

I couldn’t stand still. I started spontaneously bouncing up and down on the sideline like I had the Parkinson’s. Not my proudest moment.

Their player sent in a great kick, but our goalie Donovan aggressively came out and got a hand to it. The ball deflected to one of our guys, he blasted it out of the zone, and the ref finally blew his goddamn whistle. Game over.

I’ve been coaching one sport or another for over 30 years. But watching those kids jump all over each other at the end of that game was easily the most satisfying moment of my coaching career. Your pal even got a little verklempt, and that’s not like me.

Okay, I admit it- I’m a pussy. Leave me alone.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Settle down, Beavis, it was a kids soccer game. Not to me, guys. It meant a lot more to me than that.

If I didn’t believe in karma before, I sure do now. Too many things had to fall into place in order to get one last game; one last chance to coach soccer before I hang ‘em up for good.

I mean, what are the odds? We make the final. Willie gets ejected on a bullshit call, the committee allows me to coach without a card, we go down by two in the first half. The boys make a miracle comeback against a team that they had no business beating, my kid scores the game winner in the last two minutes, and I get to win the last game I’ll ever coach. No friggin’ way that should have happened.

But it sure did.

Now I can take my old, short ass back to the parent side of the field with no regrets. I finished my business, and went out my way. And I’ll never find a way to thank those boys enough for making it happen.

Dawgs Party Hearty at Marty's

Last Saturday night, Dawg Nation held their annual get-together at the mountain home of team captain and former butt bumper Marty Richardson. As usual, the Dawgs II squad was celebrating yet another EAHL championship.

But this season, Dawgs I actually had something to contribute, aside from their normal big truckload of jack-shit. After their standard tank-job in the winter league playoffs, the team gathered in May and won their first significant event ever, the Quest for the Crown championship at Big Bear Ice Arena.


Now that's a motley crew right there

So to celebrate their overwhelming recent success, it was party time. 65 men, women, children, and Eddie Cribbs gathered for a feast of Tito Pijanowski's famous deep-fried turkey, and Nigel Richardson's special smoked pork and beef. Along with that, there were 10 cases of beer, plus many, many combinations of mixed drinks.

This made for a very interesting evening. Here are just a few of the highlights:

Marty Richardson found a megaphone, which is a little like giving a book of matches to an arsonist. The only saving grace was that he had 9News weather anchor Kathy Sabine standing behind him the whole time.


Good thing she looks like her mom, Cappy...

Party guests were surprised when Joey Buttofuoco arrived:



(I know it's a reach, but look at the hair. Work with me a little here...)

At some point during the proceedings, Barb Zimmat came to the realization that she could do much, much better than her husband Rick. Here she can no longer hide her profound regret:


"Sweet Jesus, I hate him..."

In an overwhelming vote, the party guests selected the two best looking guys at the event:


The line forms to the left, girls

New Dawgs forward Chris Acuna got his dates mixed up, and showed up one week before the actual party. He was later given a special award.


Dude, really...

During his presentation, Marty failed miserably at his new hobby of trying to be a ventriloquist. Unfortunately, he could never get his dummy to say anything.


That dummy is almost lifelike

Dawgs II forward Nick Cortese had a handful of fun, causing him to drool into the beer cup of his wife Lorraine:


Sweet matching white shorts and belts, guys...

Dawgs star forward Shaun Hollis brought a breathalyzer to the event, hoping that it would deter people from drinking and driving. Instead, it became a battle to see who could register the highest amount.

In a close contest, the winner turned out to be birthday boy Danny Packard, who blew an astounding .16. He was followed closely by his figure skating girlfriend Lacey Undergarment, who came in at .14. This put a damper on their special birthday plans for later, when Lacy was set to perform a triple-Lutz and sit-spin on Danny's hog.


Ladies and gentlemen, Brokeback Hockey Player

Tired of hoisting the EAHL Cup year after year, this season the Dawgs II players decided on something different. Here Andy Gerrie is ready to sip victory champagne from a midget hooker:


"Yee-haw! Little people rule!"

In an embarrassing moment, Dawgs forward Eddie Cribbs clearly misunderstood what type of party this was:


"Don't worry girls! This is for me! Girls?"
(In case you were wondering, the big one is in his right hand, and the little one is in his left)

JMac 1 ESPN

This is a couple of years old, but if you haven't seen it, trust your little buddy, and take a few minutes. Pay special attention to the kids on the bench.

This is my favorite thing ever- if it doesn't make you choke up a little bit, you're a communist robot...

Family Night and the Spelling Bee

So Friday night the SFG family was gathered around the television, spending some quality time together, and looking for something that we could all watch. After some searching, we happened upon the Scripps-Howard National Spelling Bee, which was being shown in primetime for the first time ever. We knew this had to be our programming choice for the evening.

Now before you get all impressed by our selection, please keep in mind that this is my family:


This is also our Christmas card

Sorry to disappoint, but we didn’t exactly watch this event for educational purposes. For those of you who have never watched the spelling bee before, this is the Super Bowl of mutants and dorks, and we just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to spend a couple of hours having a good old time mocking these kids and their parents.

I believe the phrase you’re searching for is “what an asshole”. Yeah, I know. But my ticket to Hell was punched when I made fun of Leslie Fishbein after she died, so I don’t have anything really to lose.

Anyway, just for fun I decided to keep a running diary of the evening, share the magic with all my new pals on the website, and maybe drag you to Hell with me if you happen to laugh. You're going to feel guilty, but go ahead and let it out.

7:00- The show comes on, and our host for the evening is…Tom Freakin’ Bergeron. As a group, my whole family says, “Aw, crap”. He's so annoying, he makes me wish that Bob Saget was back on America's Funniest Videos. And I hate Bob Saget more than almost anything in the world.

Backstage doing interviews with the contestants is Erin Andrews from ESPN. This will be the only time in their lives that the boys in the event will be anywhere near a good looking girl.

7:05- Now, boys and girls, let’s meet the 12 finalists! Pay attention to this part, because I’m giving most of the contestants their own nicknames. You’ll see why in a second. If you think I’m writing out some of these names all night, you’re out of your friggin' mind.

Kyle Mou- Asian kid, 12, looks like he’s seven. Weighs around 29 pounds, and his head is perfectly round. His dad looks like The Donger from “16 Candles”.

Catherine Cojocaru- She’s 13 and looks like Jennifer Jason Leigh in “Fast Times at Ridgemont High”. She’ll be “Fast Times Stacy”.

Sidharth Chand- 12, the first of many Indian kids that are here tonight. Dead ringer for Pedro from “Napoleon Dynamite”, including the full mustache. He’ll be just “Pedro”.

Austin Peneda- 13, looks like a Hispanic John Denver. Has that long bowl haircut and wire rimmed glasses. His name for tonight is Juan Denver. Get it? Juan Denver? Thank you- I'm here all week...

Justin Song- 13, big Asian kid. When he speaks, he has this deep voice that sounds like they’ve slowed down the tape of the show, He’ll be “Slo-Mo”.

Tia Thomas- 13, possibly the whitest girl I’ve ever seen. Doesn’t study spelling words outdoors very much, I imagine. We’ll call her Albino Girl. Acts almost normal. We determine she has no shot of winning.

Samia Nawaz- 13, of Indian descent. Writes words on the back of her hand before she spells them out. Other than that, semi-normal. Also has no chance.

Sameer Mishra- 13, pleasant looking Indian kid. His dad’s name is Krishna Mishra. You can’t make something like that up. I’ll venture to guess that he’s not from around here.

Kavya Shivashankar- 12, from…Kansas? Little sister looks like Dora the Explorer. Her dad’s name is… Merle. We guess that they’re in some kind of witness protection program. Something definitely amiss here.

Scott Remer- 14, best candidate to be an axe murderer. Has a strange smile, and his eyes look in different directions. Security needs to keep tabs on this kid. He’ll be “The Remer”, just because it sounds funny when I say it.

Jahnavi Iyer- 14, female, looks like a 36 year old dude. Has a mustache and one eyebrow, both of the same shape, thickness, and color. She’ll be known as “Unibrow”. But she’s not the most frightening looking contestant in the field…

Rose Sloan- Holy jumpin’ smokes. Rose is 13, big girl, breathes like Darth Vader, and has a giant mole above her lip. Her dad looks like Bill Gates, and her mom looks a little like Jabba the Hut. She’s now “Mole Girl”. God help us.

7:15- After an exhausting introduction, they show the stage, and it has the kids on one side, while their parents are sitting on the other. My oldest boy Mike says, “It looks like ‘Where’s Waldo’, except you have to find the white kids”. Mike gets the silver medal for Most Inappropriate Comment of the Evening.

7:20- They finally start spelling, and everyone makes it through the first round, except Juan Denver. He misses “tralatitious”, and his chances for 2008 crash and burn into the ocean (couldn’t resist the John Denver joke. Like I said- I’m already going to Hell. Screw it).

7:30- They’ve gone through two more rounds, and haven’t lost anybody else yet. The Remer spells his word, and then comes back to his chair and stares into the camera for way too long. Well, one of his eyes is staring. The other is looking for Erin Andrews. Mike says, “He’s going to die alone and cross-eyed”.

God, I love my kids.

7:35- They show the parents section again, and all the moms have one thing in common- they weigh around 347 pounds each. They need to get together and practice spelling “J-e-n-n-y C-r-a-i-g”.

7:40- 11 spellers still here- nobody’s missing any words. The family decides to try and pick the winner. I go for The Remer (again, just because I like saying that out loud), my wife Annie takes Slo-Mo, and the youngest boy Ben selects Pedro so he can say he “Voted for Pedro”.

Mike takes Kyle Mou, who’s little and has a round head, because Mike’s little and has a round head. Then my 12 year old, Sam, tabs Kavya Shivashankar, reasoning that if she can consistently spell her last name, she can spell anything. That’s too logical- I may kick him out of the family.

7:50- Sameer Mishra comes to the stage and gets the word “numnah”, which is a pad for a saddle. He says “Numbnut?” Swear to God. Best moment of the night so far. He recovers and spells the word right. Sameer will now be “Numbnut” for the rest of the evening.

8:00- Mole Girl’s turn. She gets the word “hemeralopia”. My wife says “that’s what that thing is on her lip”. Mole Girl goes all Darth Vader for a minute and a half, and then gets it right.

She just can’t go out. I need her for this story. Hang in for me, Mole Girl. Pretty please?

8:05- The Remer spells the word “lemel”, and then gives the camera the 20 second stare again with a shit-eating grin on his face. He definitely thinks he’s the coolest kid here. Which is a little like being the smartest person in Wyoming.

(Writer’s note- I noticed that lemel and Remer were both palindromes, meaning that they’re spelled the same backwards and forwards. See, I’m not just another pretty face. I have a mind, too. So stop staring at my tits.)

8:15- They come back from a commercial break, and take another wide shot of the stage with the spellers and their parents. My lovely wife Annie says, “Do you think it smells like curry up there?”

Ladies and gentlemen, your winner of the gold medal for Most Inappropriate Comment of the Evening!

I'll spend the next ten minutes pissed that I didn’t think of that one first.

8:25- Uh-oh, we finally lose another contestant. Slo-Mo misses “satagraha” and leaves the stage at a snail’s pace. But Erin Andrews touches him on the shoulder during the exit interview, and I think he has an accident in his khakis. Made a real cool orgasm face.

8:30- Little Kyle Mou goes out on “lapies” (I think I had a case of those in college), and joins his parents on the other side of the stage. The Donger is in tears- this definitely means more to him than Kyle. Settle down, Donger.

8:35- Rose takes a break this round, and lets her mole spell “fumagillin”. The mole gets it right, and they’re both on to the next round.

8:40- Fast Times Stacy crashes on “bogatyr”, and leaves the stage with a big case of the Red Ass. Her parents try to console her, but she’s not having any of it. Stacy’s pissed. She’ll feel better later, when she sees her boyfriend Mark Ratner. They’re madly in love…but still haven’t gone all the way yet.

(If you get that reference, give yourself a big gold star.)

8:45- They’re dropping like flies now. Unibrow misses “parfleche”, and then quickly gets loaded into an ambulance, where they’ll rush her to a beauty salon to have her eyebrows and lip waxed. This will take until next Thursday to complete.

We’re down to seven spellers remaining.

8:50- Cute little Samia tries to spell “huapango” on her hand, but this time the hand let her down. Shit, I wish I had a nickel for every time my hand let me down…

8:55- Oh, crap! Mole Girl misses “sheitel”, and she’s gone. She tumbles into her parents’ arms- man, this is hard to watch. Jabba the Hut consoles her daughter, while Bill Gates tries in vain to make the mole feel better.

I haven’t felt this badly since they cancelled “Queer As Folk”.

9:00- Say bye-bye to Kavya Pjufbnmfhdmdfn- she added an “e” to “ecrase”. Ecrase is a French word, which means to “chain smoke, never bathe, and surrender”. The French ecrase a lot. Goddamn, I hate the French.

9:05- You better alert security- The Remer just misspelled “thymele”. The smug, twisted smile just left his face, and he’s heading toward his parents looking a little like John Malkovich at the end of “In the Line of Fire”. His parents try to talk him down- he’s between them but still finding a way to maintain eye contact with both. No sudden moves for awhile, everybody…

Now we’re down to the final three- Pedro, Numbnut, and Albino Girl. I can’t believe Albino Girl made it this far. I’ve tried all night to find something wrong with her, and I just can’t, except of course, her pigmentation. And I can find something wrong with everybody. Her normalness is driving me crazy.

9:10- All three are hanging tough- they make it through two more rounds. I’m so excited; I’m puckering in all the wrong places. Numbnut’s dad is clapping like one of those mechanical monkeys with the cymbals. He needs to stop that.

9:15- Dammit! Albino Girl can’t navigate “opificer”. She should have had the judge use the word in a sentence, like, “No, I have not been drinking, opificer”. She cheerfully meets her parents with a big hug.

She’s so damn sweet, I just hate her. We’ll meet again, Albino Girl. We’ll meet again…

9:20- Now we’ve got Numbnut and Pedro going head to head. Numbnut gets “tallegio”, and Pedro follows with “introuvable”. Numbnut is correct with “esclandre”, and then Pedro stumbles on “prosopopoeia”. He leaves out the last “i” in the word. What a dumbass- that was so obvious.

All Numbnut has to do is spell one more word, and he is the big winner. Then Krishna can stop clapping like a moron. And the word is…“guerdon”?

Pedro got “prosopopoeia”, and Numbnut just has to spell guerdon? Shit, this is more anticlimactic than my wedding night (which, by the way, is still the best 19 seconds of my life).

Of course Numbnut spells the word, and walks away with the $40,000 in cash, plus the big gold trophy that is inscribed, “King of the Dinks”. But it just feels a little bit wrong, like when you see your parents kiss, or see the back of a thong on an old lady at the grocery store.

But it was still fun. As a family, we spelled a total of two words correctly tonight, and they were both by the eight year old. I knew I was screwed- if I didn’t have spell-check for this article it would look like Sanskrit. But there are more important things than intelligence, aren’t there?

Anyway, we’ll be back when the next beauty pageant comes up. Now there’s a good family night…

SFG's Day At the Dentist

So I was sitting in McDonald’s a few weeks ago and I bit into one of my favorite treats, the Snack Wrap. In this case, however, there was something hard in the breaded chicken, and the sonofabitch broke my front tooth. I immediately took the Snack Wrap and part of said tooth to the manager, and the conversation went something like this:

SFG- “Sir, there was something in the Snack Wrap that just broke my tooth.”

McD’s manager- “Que?”

SFG- “See, here’s part of my tooth right here in my hand.”

Manager- “Que?”

SFG- “Will you guys pay for this?”

Manager- “Que?”

Well, it was obvious I wasn’t going to get any help from the guys at the old “Arches Dorado”, and I didn’t want to look like a man-o-lantern, because it might jeopardize my chances of being a supermodel. So I scheduled an appointment at my favorite place, the Comfort Dental. The following is a running diary of my time with those fine caregivers.

Oh, before we start, just one quick thing. Comfort Dental, my ass.

1:15 PM- I get to Comfort Dental early because I’ve changed addresses since my last visit, and I know I’ll have some paperwork to fill out. I like going to this particular office- it reminds me of the double-wide trailer my mom used to live in when she owned that bar in Wyoming. But that’s an article for another time. I’m greeted by a pleasant Russian girl whom I’ll call Nadia.

1:20- Nadia hands me a clipboard and says, “Take a sheet and then go sit down and we’ll call you.” Because of her accent, the word “sheet” sounds like a different word. Confused, I spend the next fifteen minutes in the restroom trying to accommodate her request, but to no avail. I come back to the lobby with a bad tooth and a possible hernia.

1:35- They call me back to the examination room, and only five minutes behind schedule! I’m feeling pretty good when I meet my nurse. I never really got her name, but let’s just call her Nurse Beehotch, shall we? I relate the “sheet” story to her about Nadia’s accent, and she doesn’t even humor me with a pity chuckle. “Yeah, she’s hard to understand sometimes”, was the monotone response I got, never even looking up from her clipboard.

This just might be a long afternoon…

1:45- After getting comfy in that rack they call a dentist chair, Nurse Beehotch comes in for my x-rays. When she puts that lead sheet over my gonads, I ask, “Could you please just take the x-rays without the sheet? I already have enough kids.” She doesn’t change expression, sighs, and leaves the room.

Tough crowd. I decide that Nurse Beehotch needs to find a man. Stat!

2:00- After a pretty good wait, I get to meet my dentist for the first time. My regular guy was booked up, so I took whomever they had available. I’ll soon find out why this garbanzo had an opening in his schedule. Let’s just call him Dr. Head. I’ll let you figure out his first name.

2:05- Dr. Head finishes looking at the x-rays, and examining the rest of my teeth. He then tells me what I already knew: they’ll have to put a crown on my front tooth. “Let’s get you numbed up, and we’ll get started”, he grumbles.

Because it’s my front tooth, he gives me a shot under the front of my lip. It’s not too bad; until he jams that needle up so far it feels like he’s touched the bottom of my eye socket. He finally finishes, and I blink away my first tear of the day. You know the kind of tear you get when you pluck out a nose hair that’s gone astray so you don’t look like a party favor? You don’t do that? Fine, let’s just move on…

2:20- Haven’t seen Dr. Head in awhile, but now my mouth is good and numb. Unfortunately, I can’t breathe through my right nostril, and I can’t blink my right eye. I also now have a permanent look of surprise on my face. He may have gotten a little carried away on the novacaine.

2:30- Still no Dr. Head, but Nurse Beehotch has told me three times he’ll be right there. Looks like Dr. Head is working another poor bastard at the same time. Gotta love these discount dentists…

2:40- Dr. Head finally stumbles back into the room, and tells me he needs to grind down my tooth to accommodate the crown. When he picks up this instrument, I see “Black and Decker” on the side of it. It becomes immediately apparent that this may not be the most fun part of my afternoon.

He then puts on a drill bit about the size of my middle finger (my personal favorite, by the way), flips down his welding mask, and goes to work. I’m dealing with the sparks, the smell of smoke, the nasty grinding sound, and the little pieces of my tooth that are accumulating on the back of my tongue, until…

2:50- Dr. Head needs some more room to work, so he pushes my lip up. I mean way up, so that it's covering my nostrils.

Go ahead, try it. See, your lip can cover your nostrils too, so shut up.

At the same time, Nurse Beehotch has this ShopVac thing in my mouth, where she is unsuccessfully trying to suck up all the toothy bits that are falling away from the Black and Decker. At this point I take a quick inventory and realize that I’m officially out of holes that I breathe through.

I try to tell Dr. Head that I’m out of air by making some grunting noises, but between the jackhammer in his hand and the ShopVac in the back of my throat, I don’t think he can hear me.

You know what? This shit is starting to get serious.

I try tapping “S.O.S.” in Morse Code on the handle of my chair, but I guess neither one of them have been in the Navy.

Finally I reach up and push Nurse Beehotch’s hand back and take in a giant gulp of life-giving oxygen. I feel like David Blaine when he broke that record on Oprah.

Nurse Beehotch gives me a look like I just pissed in her Fruit Loops.

I’m starting to think maybe it wouldn’t be so bad looking like a man-o-lantern.

3:00- Dr. Head has finished with the jackhammer and left me in a limp, quivering state. I think he’s gone off to work on a farm animal for awhile. I thank my personal God and promise never to swear again if he’ll get me through the rest of this afternoon.

3:15- Dr. Head is back from doing a root canal on Man O’ War , and is now ready to apply the finishing touches to the nub that used to be my front tooth and get it ready for the temporary cap. This time he picks up Black and Decker Jr., with a smaller drill bit, and goes back to work.

While he’s doing his thing, I realize that it’s been so long since he gave me the numbing shot that feeling is starting to come back to my mouth. I tell him that very fact and he grumbles, “Don’t worry, I’m just about done.”

About 20 seconds later, Black and Decker Jr. hits the goddamn nerve. I see a vision of my Grandma, who passed away in 1993, and she’s beckoning me towards this bright light. I then break my promise to God and yell out a ten-letter word that sounds a lot like “box-cutter”.

Nurse Beehotch changes expression for the first time today.

3:25- Dr. Head has finished, and is currently moving on to his next victim. I’ve stopped sobbing long enough for Nurse Beehotch to place the temporary tooth. She picks it up and applies glue that has a curious odor combination of turpentine, rubbing alcohol, and ass. She then rams the tooth so far up into my gum that I visit Grandma one more time.

Gee, I miss Grandma…

3:30- Nurse Beehotch gives me one final inspection and sends me on my way. She monotones, “We’ll see you back here in three weeks when the crown comes in”.


Now kids, this gives me some time to decide whether I want to do that, or go home, start the car, and suck on the tailpipe until I experience the euphoria of sweet, sweet death.

Right now the odds are at 5/2 that I go have dinner with Grandma.

FINALLY-CHAMPS!

Dawgs I Win Quest for the Crown


After two years of watching their brother team, Dawgs II, win consecutive league championships, the much more handsome Dawgs I team finally pulled their own weight, winning the inaugural Quest for the Crown Tournament at Big Bear Ice Arena.


(Click on all pictures to enlarge)

Dawgs II came within an eyelash of making it a double for the good guys, losing a heartbreaking 2-1 game in the final of the D bracket. But combined with their back-to-back league titles, it has still been a great couple of seasons for that squad.

Playing five games in three days, the Dawgs I avenged their only loss of the tourney, knocking off the Pikas 7-4 in the final. It marked the first time that the team had skated off the ice with anything but a giant bag of disappointment in their history.

It was a total team victory, as all 14 players got on the scoresheet with either a goal or assist in the five games. The defense also played well, holding their opponents to 8 goals for the weekend.

But the star of the tournament had to be defenseman Mike Pijanowski. The veteran blueliner trained hard for the weekend, watched his diet, and then at the precise moment, when his team needed him the most, he dug deep, summoned up all his inner strength and talent, and recruited his brother Mark to play on the team.


Mark (I wouldn't click this one if I were you)

Mark, now known to his teammates as the "good Pijanowski", led the Dawgs in scoring for the weekend, with six goals and three assists.

Mike will now forever be known to his teammates, as "the less talented Pijanowski", "Frank Stallone", or just plain "Tito".


Mike- upper left

The Dawgs got off to a great start on Friday night, hammering the Purple Cobras, 9-0. Teen dreamboat Matt McGarvey, having just shaved off all six hairs that he called a beard, scored the hat trick for the Dawgs. Six other players contributed with single goals, as they cruised against a team that probably should have played down one division.

Goalkeeper Al Sterner, just a few months from getting his AARP card, picked up his first shutout of the millennium, courageously turning aside both shots he faced. Having missed his nap earlier, he dosed off for a few minutes in the third period, but nobody seemed to notice.


"Okay, mom, I'm up..."

Saturday morning, the Dawgs came up against a better team in the Hockey Guild, who served as hosts for the tourney. Though it was a struggle, they did just enough to eke out a 3-0 win. The game was up for grabs until the last two minutes, when Guy Kennedy scored to wrap things up. He then skated around with a psychotic grin on his face.


Kennedy

Newcomer John Giblin and Good Pijanowski also tallied, while Sterner fell in front of at least five shots to get back-to-back clean sheets for the first time in his life. Surrounded by reporters after the game, Sterner was, as always, humble and reserved.

"You know Al's got mad skills. Al doesn't know why he hasn't gotten a call from the NHL yet. It ain't fair that the world doesn't get to see what Al can do. Now get out of Al's face."

He then left the arena trailed by his new groupies. They were last seen at Denny's, where they all got the senior discount on the Moons Over My Hammy breakfast.


Sterner posse

Saturday afternoon, the Dawgs faced a huge test, when they ran into the Pikas for the first time in the tournament. They had won their two previous games by a combined 16-4 margin, and were absolutely the team to beat.

The Dawgs got off to a great start, when Archie Rosenberg scored with just one minute elapsed to give them the lead. It would be one of three tourney goals for Rosenberg, who took time off from filming "School of Rock II" to play in the event.


Rosenberg

Unfortunately, that would be the last goal that the Dawgs would score in the game. The Pikas Chris Peloquin busted Sterner's tournament hymen late in the second period, tying the game, then Marc-Andre Piette and Jonathan Webb each scored in the third to seal the 3-1 win. Pikas goalie Brad Warren was tremendous in keeping the Dawgs off the sheet for the final 44 minutes.

So the Dawgs finished pool play at 2-1, still good for second place in the bracket. Now they had to play the Hockey Guild in a semifinal rematch, but because of earlier delays, it would be pushing midnight by the time the game was started. This was almost six hours past the normal bedtime of the Dawgs goalie, but that did not turn out to be the biggest problem for the team.

Sometime during the evening, the Hockey Guild captain, John Ritchie, went out and recruited players from the higher divisions to play with his team for the important game. Though this was incredibly illegal and unsportsmanlike, this did not seem to matter to Ritchie, or the referees. So the game began with at least 20 players on the Guild bench, but only the best 10 were actually playing. This was definitely not the same team that the Dawgs had shut out 14 hours earlier.

Knowing that the deck was stacked against them, the Dawgs still went out and seized the lead early, on a goal from Eric Helwig. But the Guild tied the game right before the period ended, and had the majority of the play in the Dawgs end. It appeared to be just a matter of time before they would take the lead for good.

Then, the turning point of the game occurred.

Between the first and second period, Tito Pijanowski pledged that he was going to crap-hammer the first cheating Guild player that he could catch, and he made good on that promise. After just one minute, he drove a player into the boards hard, drawing a four minute time out from the referee. On his way to the box, he challenged any player on the Guild bench that wanted to come out on the ice and further discuss his actions. He found no takers, while his brother Good Pijanowski just smiled and shook his head on the bench.


"Tito mad. Tito need to hit someone."

In the meantime, Sterner began a dialogue with Guild captain Ritchie, detailing in colorful terms exactly what he thought of his tactics of cheating while being the host club. Their banter would continue until well after the final buzzer sounded.

The penalty seemed to ignite the Dawgs, who stepped up their game considerably, and started to control play, even against the recruited ringers. They took the lead nine minutes into the period on a sweet goal from Better Pijanowski, and it was 2-1 heading to the third.

The game stayed that way until their were five minutes left, and then the Dawgs exploded for three goals in three minutes to send Hockey Guild home with their panties in a bunch, and nothing to show for their cheating efforts. Pijanowski (no real need to identify which one) collected his second of the game, "Nacho Libre" Rosenberg soon followed, and then Shaun Hollis closed things out with two minutes left. Hollis dedicated the goal to his new girlfriend, who could not be there because she was at a sleepover with her middle school classmates.


Hollis girlfriend, far left

After the game, a very unhappy Hockey Guild captain and total douchebag Ritchie launched a flurry of insults at Dawgs goalie Sterner, accusing him of engaging in oral pleasures with other members of the same sex. An obviously distraught Sterner spoke with reporters after the game.

"A guy goes to college, gets drunk one night, and sucks a (male chicken). Sucks one lousy (male chicken)! And it haunts him the rest of his life. Al was young...who doesn't experiment a little bit when they're young?"

So now the Dawgs had go home, get a few hours of sleep, and come right back to Big Bear to play the Pikas again early Sunday morning for the tournament title. It would be a tall order, as the Pikas won their semifinal easily much earlier in the evening, and had the benefit of a full night's rest.

But amazingly, it was the Dawgs who looked better at the start, and they scored the all-important opening goal around halfway through the first period, on another beauty by Much Better Pijanowski.

The lead doubled early in the second when Hollis banged in his second of the weekend, and then increased to 3-0 when Clearly the Best Pijanowski put a rocket in the top corner past Pikas keeper Brad Warren, who was not nearly as hot as he had been on Saturday.

The Pikas got one back on a goal by Chris Peloquin, who fired a low shot past Sterner's right pad. Sterner's legs were suffering from a combination of excess lactic acid and midlife crisis, and he was trying to hold off rigor mortis for another period and a half. Things looked up soon after as Rosenberg answered quickly to restore the lead to three with 15 long minutes remaining.

The Pikas cut the lead to 4-2 very early in the third on a power play goal from their best player, Marc-Andre Piette. Piette was now playing every other shift, as his team tried desperately to get back in the game.

But just as they had in the second, the Dawgs replied straightaway, on a goal from John Ripley. Then a few minutes later, the Pikas closed the gap to 5-3 on a rebound goal by Robert Keltie. There were still around 7 minutes left, and a rapidly aging goalie Sterner was starting to show some subtle signs of fatigue.


Sterner

Then with 2:30 remaining in regulation, Piette was pulled down from behind, and the referee awarded a penalty shot. Piette skated in alone, his long hair flowing in the breeze like a mildly gay Guy LaFleur, and made Sterner look incredibly stupid, tucking the puck in on the glove side.


Beaten like a rented mule

Now there were over two minutes left, the score was 5-4, and Sterner's legs were officially at DEFCON 1. Could the Dawgs hang on for their first-ever championship? And could Sterner make the final saves with both hands wrapped firmly around his throat?

The answer came just a minute later, when Ripley converted a pass from It's Not Even Close Pijanowski, and took all the wind out of the Pikas comeback. Brother Tito tapped in an empty netter as time ran out, and the Dawgs came away with the Quest for the Crown championship, by the final score of 7-4.







After the game, the championship banner was presented to Dawgs captain and former fanny bandit Marty Richardson. He held it up proudly, the three foot banner nearly covering his tiny, yet stout frame.


Richardson

In Other Dawgs News:


Right before the final buzzer of the championship game, captain Marty Richardson shares a quick kiss with defenseman Rick Zimmat, while Archie Rosenberg jealously looks on:


No tongues

Richardson then quickly makes up by sticking his ring finger in Rosenberg's rectum


"There we go, Archie. Are we good now?"

Because of his high status in the community, or possibly because he performed a Rusty Trombone on the tournament director, Captain Marty Richardson was selected to play in the Celebrity Game that wrapped up the Quest for the Crown Tournament.


Richardson

Richardson, who gained his celebrity status by being the pivot man in the world's largest circle-jerk, actually scored a goal in the contest, much to the delight of the many Dawgs players and fans who were well over the .08 blood alchohol level and were forced to stay to watch the game. He received a drop pass from a Rocky Mountain Rage player, and fired the puck past goalie Leslie Fishbein, local television personality and owner of Kacey Fine Furniture.

Unfortunately, Fishbein had passed away several weeks ago, but her family wanted to honor her commitment to play. She still almost made the glove save on Richardson's shot.

Fishbein also made an appearance at the silent auction on Saturday night, which worked out great, since she was, after all, dead, making it much tougher to bid out loud. She is seen here being propped up by her husband Sam:


Fishbein at auction- hardly any decomposition

Sunday morning it was revealed that because of their efforts to cheat on Saturday night, the Hockey Guild severed ties with their C level team, and fired captain John Ritchie. Dawgs goalkeeper Al Sterner was chosen by his team to send a heartfelt sympathetic message to Ritchie and his squad. Sterner enlisted the help of his family to send the message.