Riding the Rivalry

All the small things

2010-08-03T18:03:00.000-07:00

Last summer I was admitted to the Master's of History program at Simmons College. When I got the acceptance letter in the mail a sense of accomplishment slowly came over me. I was moving on with my education, getting an chance to be challenged and to learn. God I wished that I put more effort into my undergad degree it would have been much easier to get into Graduate School.

So, getting into Grad School posed a totally new problem for me...paying for Graduate School.

I thought real hard and came up with the following options to pay for class

Option A: Loan

Option B: Credit Card(s)

Option C: Scholarship

I tried getting several scholarships or grants and was unsuccessful with each attempt. I was too dumb to get a scholarship, and when I applied for a Grant, the women on the phone quickly realized that I was not Latino as advertised, and threatened to prosecute me for fraud. When I heard this my response was, "Que?" then I hung up.

The Credit Card companies laughed at me when I called them up, and said the way my credit score was I might be eligible for U.N. relief. No seriously, my credit score and my SAT math score were pretty damn close.

The Bank wouldn't let me walk though the door, and Sallie Mae told me to play in traffic, so there was no loan coming either.

What was left...paying out of pocket..? What a strange and foreign idea for me.

If your still reading, your wondering what the hell does this have to do with the Ride? Here is is...

I was accepted to a Federal Grant that gives teachers lessons on history, but focuses on primary sources. The class that I was taking focused on the Industrial Revolution, something that is heavy in my curriculum. I would increase my knowledge of the content I was teaching, and my kids benefitted from having a teacher that knew more then what was just in the text book. For $235 I would be taking 2 graduate classes from UMASS Boston. I stepped in it big time.

The first class was from August 2009 and ended in April of 2010, meeting every other Wednesday. The second class was offered the week of July 19th or the week of August 2nd. I signed up for the week of July 19th...but thought it started on July 26th. I missed my class, 3 Grad Credits wasted, gone. I basically was given $4,000 and burnt it in my backyard.

I showed up for class on July 26th, drove all the way out to Lowell for it. Had my syllabus in my notebook, even got dressed up for the occasion. Waited at the park across from the Textile Mill for 30 minutes as National Park Rangers and tour guides gave me a funny look. I didnt blend, fat guy wearing a button down and khakis and my stupid male purse in the middle of a park while camp kids line up for a field trip. I was nervous that Chris Hansen was going to ask me what I was doing there.

As my anxiety grew, I checked my itinerary to see if I had the right park.

"Ok I got the right mill....and it is 9:00 it said meet at 8:45....and its Monday...oh shit."

Looooonnnggg ride home from Lowell. A traffic filled, pain in my chest, how the fuck did this happen ride home.

I had to make some phone calls that day that were really making my sick.

First I needed to explain what happened to the Federal Grant Director and pray to God that I could switch. I was able to take the class during the week of August 2nd, and the woman in charge of the program found the whole incident amusing and assured me that it would not be a problem.

Then I had to call Billy, and Tim. (I was too embarrassed and too much of a chicken shit to call Meagan up). Rescheduling the Ride was not an option so the whole thing was put on the shelf.

My mom insists that I was "not supposed to ride" this year and assured me that everything happens for a reason. By Friday, I hope to have found out what exactly that reason is because I feel awful.

The 2007 version of me is probably disgusted that I let the ride fall by the wayside. I probably would have done the ride and just forgot about the credits, but now I can't just pass up on that type of opportunity.

For weeks I have been putting off checking my work email. I kept insisting that I just did not want to deal with school and was enjoying my carefree and Updike filled summer of John.

Was my not checking my work email in time a Quantum Leap worthy experience. Shouldn't have Dr. Sam Beckett "Lept" into my life on July 18th and had me download my Course Itinerary on his quest for the last leap home? How many of our little actions or indecisions have some sort of major impact on our life?

For example if I had completed my online application to Catholic University I would have gone there and not have gone to Marist. Crazy right? I have no idea how my life would have turned out. However, I never finished it, and eventually got into Marist after being wait listed for awhile.

Now that I think about it I was actually wait-listed at Marist. I did not know what to do, considering the only other college that I had applied to (Fordham) had sent me a very polite rejection letter. A Seminarian at my parish heard about my situation and informed me that he was really close friends with a member of the Board of Trustees at Marist and promised to place a call for me. I got in 3 days after talking to him. I had met the Seminarian while I was working at the parish rectory during high school, a job that I almost quit the year before.

There are probably dozens of these moments in my life that I still have yet to realize the impact that they have had. I hope that not doing the ride is one of them.

Thurman or How Irish guilt got me a Dog

2010-07-26T09:43:00.000-07:00

Since my Junior year of college I have wanted a bulldog, for no specific reason other then I thought they were really cool. I had a long list of possible names for my potential future canine buddy: Winston, Fat Boy, Hemingway, and Farley were my top options for a male, and if I got a female her name was going to be Gertie.

On a road trip down to DC I purchased a sign that said, "Fat Boy Parking Only" which was set to hang above my dog's bed.

As time went by and living situation changed from dorm, to apartment, to Jean's house the likelihood of me getting a dog went down. I continued to be very vocal about my want of a bulldog, and had received birthday cards, boxer shorts, and other gifts with bulldogs on them from friends and family.

I received a card from a student at the end of the school year that said that she was told my brother Tommy to get mea bulldog, but that she could only afford a gift card to White Castle instead. A very thoughtful gesture, and an even more amazing gift.

Liz had promised to buy me a bulldog if I finished The Walk, that was in 2007. She insists that she said that she would "help me buy" a bulldog, but I believe her memory is a bit clouded. She spent several months researching bulldog breeders in New England and New York while I was living in Brighton. Ultimately, I decided that a dog would not be the most prudent investment with my schedule and financial situation, so I temporarily abandoned the dream until I felt I was ready.

In September of 2009, my dad informed me that he made plans to make a trip up to Boston in October, not to see me, but to attend The Canine College in Holbrook Massachusetts. He said that there was this trainer that was giving a presentation there that he wanted to see. "He is a dog wiz", I think was the accolade my father bestowed upon him. I was more than happy to get a chance to spend some time with him, and show him my apartment so I was looking forward to his visit.

What my dad was completely unaware of, was that my mom had been calling me in the weeks leading up to his trip putting ideas in my head. In one conversation my mom actually said, "I hope he doesn't do anything stupid like bring you a dog." In another phone call she said, "Imagine your father brought you a dog?" Suddenly, I started to count down the days of my dad's arrival as if it was Christmas.

I began to think, "Holy crap, he might just be brining me a dog?"

*I apologize that I did not mention this earlier, but my dad has a long standing history of showing up at our house with pets. Through out my childhood and into my college years he has brought home: rabbits, turtles, tortoises, geckos, anoles, birds, 4 German Shepherds, and Baby our South African Mastiff, all unannounced, and all met with priceless reactions from my mother. He had also bred one of our dogs three times, each time denying to my mother that the dog was pregnant. So he has a record of showing up with pets.

With my head swimming of thoughts of having a puppy, my dad's arrival at my apartment further enhanced dream when his message as he was getting off the Mass Pike was, "Were about 10 minutes away."

Holy Crap!! Were 10 minutes away, We are! Im getting a dog!!

Yeah, so when he pulled up I ran out like a little kid only to find my dad with a recently broken right foot, alone in his car. Major let down.

That night he joined my apartment with typical Friday night ritual of drinking and listening to music, and I went to bed with no puppy.

When we got to the Canine College the next morning I really had no idea what I was getting into. People had traveled from all over to watch this trainer give lessons on Schutzhund training their dogs. (I can not describe what Schutzhund is, but there is alot of yelling in German) There were people from all over the East Coast, even a couple that flew in from Germany were there.

We parked in front of a kennel, and I swear to God, the cage right in front of our car was a bulldog puppy, looking beyond adorable. As soon as I saw that dog, my heart jumped into my throat. My dad sees me staring at the puppy and says, "Hey John I think he likes you" and then kind of chuckles.

The puppy looked very much like this one but was a few weeks older:

adorable right?

Now, my brain is racing. Oh my God, this whole Canine College thing is just to get me out here to pick up the puppy. I have an absolutely thoughtful and brilliant father. I was in love with this puppy, and after petting him through the fence for a few minutes I joined my amazing father for a full day of dog training.

Periodically when there were breaks in the demonstrations I would wander over and hang out with my new best friend. My dad came over at one point and commented on how cute the dog was. The puppy was gnawing on my finger and when we got up to leave he started to whine. My dad said, "He wants to come home with you."

Oh you sly devil dad, that he does. I began to wonder how long he was going to put on this act.

As the day was winding down, I sent a picture message of the puppy to my mom. I wanted to thank her and talk about how surprised I was by the gift. When she called me back I was really surprised by how she responded to the message. My mom asked me , "what the F**K was that!?" I explained that it was the puppy dad got me and she quickly set the record straight. When I asked her about what she had said about dad getting me a dog for the past month she said she was joking, I told her it was child abuse.

So I went from being on Cloud 9, to feeling like a complete asshole. It was a long ride back to my apartment and to add to my bad mood I wanted to get back back before Game 2 of the World Series.

Thanks to the rain delay, by the time the game started I had a little bit of a buzz going. There was a costume party in the apartment upstairs that made me feel like I was back in college. My dad rested his swollen foot on an ottoman and entertained us with stories. It was the first time that I watched a World Series game with my dad, and I was feeling really happy.

When I told him all about how I thought I was getting a puppy from his trip up here, he started laughing. As I was explaining the phone calls with my mom and what he said when we got to the Canine College, I realized just how ridiculous I was, and got a little embarrassed by the whole thing. My friends and my dad seemed to have found the whole situation very amusing.

Two weeks after he came up, my mom was saying how guilty my dad was feeling about the whole situation. By then I was pretty much over the whole thing, and had become one of my favorite stories to tell. I didn't want my dad to feel bad about my stupid misunderstanding.

When I came home for Thanksgiving, the only person who was home was my brother Tommy. He asked me to help him move some stuff downstairs, and there in my old room was a cage with a puppy in it. My dad got me really good.

By the time my dad came home I was already trying to figure out what to name him. Taking one look at him I realized that he was not a Winston, or a Hemingway, or a Fat Boy. I wanted to give him a Yankee game and thought about Mo or Munson. My dad suggested Thurman, and that became his name.

He loves the car

And after living two miles from Fenway Park for seven months he has been enjoying his new life in suburbs.

thanks Dad

Caught in a Bad Romance...

2010-07-21T16:01:00.000-07:00

There is a chance that from that title I lost what little credibility I had, assuming you gave me some credibility. Anyway, the only thing that I have been neglecting more than this blog has been my role as a Yankee fan. The day The Boss past away I started a blog entry, but after 25 minutes of struggling on the first paragraph I walked away.

So why I have I been neglecting my favorite team and my favorite hobby (this blog, I don't think eating is a hobby), well I am slowly becoming an adult, a card carrying member of suburbia. Lizzie and I purchased a house in Beverly, 19 miles north of Boston. I went from living in a Young Professional Frat House, three miles from Fenway to the 'burbs in the beginning of June. It's Friggen nuts.

Since Liz is pretty much a saint she got me the MLB package with Comcast. Why the YES Network is not available baffles me, I wait for that day though...oh Lord do I wait. We have one TV in our living room and part of me feels bad hogging it with a Yankee game. When the Yanks are away, the game is broadcast on the home team's network. After three innings of the Orioles announcers and commercials, I became depressed and surrendered the remote. It was the Yankee game, but not the same. And yes, I am well aware that I sound like an ungrateful, spoiled little snot.

Its a long distance relationship with the Yankees, and its hard to stay in tune. I tried subscribing to the Daily News and the NY Times, the News wont deliver to me, and the only Times that is available is the New England Edition. I check the sports sections of the papers online so that helps. At night I get a very static 880 AM in certain parts of town. Sad how happy I was to hear Suzyn Waldman's voice.

Enough moping.

I think the main reason that I have been neglecting the Yankees is that for the first time since I moved up to Mass, I am really genuinely happy. I had an amazing time while I was living in Brighton. My roommates were like a second set of brothers to me, but deep down something was missing. Now that Liz and I got a house, I enjoy watching the Bachelorette with her. Before you dismiss me as a fan or man, let me give some hypothetical scenarios that might better explain my thought process. try one more time to explain.

If the Yanks are playing the Royals: TV with Liz

Yanks playing the Rays: Yanks

Yanks playing at Oakland: Past out on the Couch

I will end on this note.

I finally ask Liz to marry me on July 11th, and I am fortunate enough that she eventually said "yes", there was a good amount of crying and "oh my Gods before I got the answer. Despite the fact that I opened the ring box upside down, it was my greatest accomplishment.

"Haterade"

2010-04-29T06:50:00.000-07:00

Sports tends to bring out the Haters in all of us. People will say they hate the Red Sox or more commonly hate the Yankees, hell there is even a whole bunch of Yankeehater websites. This one lets you post your reasons why you hate the Yankees.

Alex Rodriguez may possibly be the most hated person in the M.L.B. right now. Actually, that is an understatement, A-Rod is the most hated person in baseball right now, possibly one of the most hated ball players ever. If you do not hate Rodriguez you are not going with the the majority of baseball fans right now.

The NY Times recently did an article on the hatred towards Alex Rodriguez that I found pretty interesting. Hating a player can be viewed as a sign of respect in some ways.

If a talented player on the opposing team consistently performs well, as a fan you might be obliged to hate them, if not definitely root against them. There is a hint of envy when a Red Sox fan bashes A-Rod, or a Patriots fan will talk trash about Peyton Manning.

For several years the focus of my Red Sox hatred was directed at Curt Schilling. Since he has retired from baseball that has cooled a bit, but Schilling being Schilling he does not like to be out of the media spotlight for too long, and will run his mouth from time to time.

I had planned on listing the reasons why I hate(ed) Schilling, but have decided against it. I found a list that does a good job of conveying my opinions so I will just link up that.

Riding the Rivalry Returns....Again

2010-04-23T17:07:00.000-07:00

As we speak the Old Yankee Stadium is being torn down and making way for NYC park space. The times they are a changing...

So there will be a 2010 edition of Riding the Rivalry. This year there will be featuring some new and returning faces to the Baseball Odyssey. Personal Statements of the Riders will follow soon.

The plan, and remember with us nothing but our goal is set in stone.

July 31st will be the Departure Date from Yankee Stadium

August 7th: Arrival Date at Fenway Park.

I am well aware that the Yankees are playing the Sox at Yankee Stadium when we will be in Boston but, that is how the cookie crumbles.

Wish us luck

~ Johnny

Boycotting Dunkin Donuts

2010-04-22T08:41:00.000-07:00

Saying that people are pretty crazy when it comes to their coffee is an understatement. People are dedicated to a certain brand, and want their coffee just the way they want it. It used to annoy me being stuck behind a person in Dunkin Donuts who wanted a half decaf/half French Vanilla Iced Coffee with a Splenda. I would just think, "really".

Who the hell am I to judge a person on how they want their coffee? If they want a Hazenut with breast milk, give it to them. There are not to many places where a person can get exactly what they want for $2.75.

My sudden enlightenment aside, I am going to be boycotting Dunkin Donuts for awhile. I am a Dunkins fan, something that coffee aficionados have and will continue to judge me for. However, I can not walk around with an Iced Coffee that looks like this:

I can not go through with it. I bought one yesterday on my way to get some school work done. The weather was nice, I had the windows down on the ride, a little sample of what summer was going to be like. Get my Blice (black,iced) French Vanilla and as I am leaving the store, I encounter some former students of mind who are also enjoying April vacation. One of them commented on my sox apparel, and I died a little bit. Why is there no Yankee equivalent of the Red Sox cup? Who knows? There will be plenty of Starbucks for me this summer.

"Well what are you doing out here?! Get the F in there!"

2010-04-06T14:04:00.000-07:00

I went down to Kenmore Square with $100 and a dream. I was about a week late, and a couple of hundred short.

In the limited experiences that I have had around Fenway on game day there never seemed to be a shortage of scalpers hawking their tickets around the ball field. I have seen them outside of Copperfields and right when you get off of the T @ Kenmore. However, that was not the case on Sunday night.

Maybe I should not have been so naive and believed all those reports that the game was not even sold out. The rumors of tickets available at face value was just too good not to believe. My greed got the best of me.

Tim and I walked around Fenway Park while the game went on. We did so many laps, that one of the sausage and peppers vendors recognized us. He told us that he was able to get tickets for $25 last week no problem. Tonight he heard that they were selling bleacher seats for $400. We saw one scalper, and he was offering his one bleacher seat for $200. At that point, it was already the 4th inning.

It was nice to be down there though, despite the frustration. The weather was warm, and plenty of people there had spent the weekend out in the sun. The first sun burn of 2010 was accompanied by Opening Day, baseball was officially back.

The bars outside Fenway were packed, with people waiting over 45 minutes to watch the game on a flat screen T.V. and pay way too much for a draft beer. I forgot about the Drunken shuffle that is only heightened by sandals. There were a few of girls shuffling on Lansdowne Street, that broke out the summer dresses before they lose the winter lbs.

A man who could have passed as C.C.'s twin brother was leaning against a lamp post on the corner of Lansdowne. He was wearing his Yankee gear and had the swagger to go with it. He asked if I was waiting to get in to the Cask n Flagon. When I told him that I was trying to get tickets for the game he looked me up and down and gave a little pep talk that is the title of the blog.

Taking my hefty African Tony Robbins' advice I soldiered on with Tim for another lap that was as fruitless as the previous two. I had enough and headed back to the T feeling like I wasted a good amount of my evening.

The Yanks lost, so maybe it wasn't a complete waste. It spared me having to endure the taunts of Red Sox fans while leaving Fenway Park. Which, by the way I did not experience while I was walking around during the game. Nobody bothered me or said anything to me while I looked for tickets. Maybe the rivalry is fading a bit? Or is it too early in the season to be angry?

Monday morning, one of my least favorite students and I had an exchange:

L.F.S.: "so, you ah enjoy that game last night?"

me: "I did. I fell asleep when the Yankees were winning."

L.F.S.: "well, we won."

me: "we? I didn't see any 4 foot 9 Asian ball players. Who is we?"

I can't just inspire kids, I'm sorry

Play Ball!

2010-04-04T16:08:00.000-07:00

After hearing reports and rumors that tonight's Opening Day was not sold out, I made up my mind that I was going to to the game.

So, in less than one hour I will take the 10 min T Ride to Kenmore and attempt to get scalped tickets. If all goes well, I will be crashing Opening Day.

Pretty in Pink

2010-03-22T07:54:00.000-07:00

I am going to start off with what I think a "pink hat fan" is and it is pretty similar to one that is actually on wikipedia.

pink hat fan: a fair weather fan, who attends a ball game as a social gathering with little to no knowledge of what is going on. Pink hat fans tend to be more concerned with how they look than the score of the game.

*Note: not all pink hat fans have to be wearing a pink hat, or be female.

Anyway, I digress.

I have had a couple of interesting conversations about bandwagon fans before, but when I brought up the pink hat issue it kind of touched a nerve. There are some very passionate and well informed female fans out there, and I am not take a crack at them. It is that small loud, over makeup and underdressed minority that gives female fans a bad name. That group is the focus of my ire.

I hate fair weather fans/bandwagon fans, because I hate fake people. If you are ever at a baseball game you know who I am talking about, just take a look around. They could be attending the game because they got tickets from their job and be wearing a shirt, tie, and baseball hat. An excellent look if you want to look like a total douche bag. Try to avoid eye contact and enjoy the game. Here are my rules for appropriate baseball attire:

1. no ties. Even the GM of the Yankees will not wear a tie, so there is no reason that you should.

2. No pink jerseys, hats, shirts, or shorts. Unless it is for a fundraiser for Breast Cancer, there is really no need to be wearing pink at the game.

3. No hats or shirts with flags of different countries on it. We get it, your half Irish, move on Sully

4. Ladies, make sure your shirt covers your whole body. In other words, wear something so we do not have to see your ass crack.

5. A player must be on the team at least one year before you buy their shirt/jersey.

Don't be that guy with the new Lackey shirt this year.

6. This has nothing to do with attire but: Don't dance to a player's warm up music. You are not at the Hong Kong, and nobody cares. Stop it.

Here is an article that discusses the pink hat issue in Boston.

Nomahhh

2010-03-13T13:38:00.000-08:00

When I was in high school, one of my favorite sketches on Saturday Night Live was the "Boston Teen" sketch. That was the one with Rachel Dratch and Jimmy Fallon as oversexed, trashy teens from the greater Boston area. The writing was brilliant with the word "retahded" probably featured close to 30 times, and always a way to incorporate "Nomah!!" into one of the skits. It was so popular that Nomar himself even made a cameo on it.

The late 90s were awesome for Nomar. He was one of the best shortstops in baseball, (maybe the best depending on what paper you read) had a rabid fanbase in New England, A Rookie of the Year Award, and an A.L. batting award. He even started the new century off on the right foot, hitting .372 in the year 2000.

All that would become a thing of the past, just as quickly as he rose, he fell.

While his Sports Illustrated Cover in February of 2001 made girls from Providence to Portland something to think about during those formative years, it also about gave hope to scrawny and awkward New England teenage boys. That with hard work, determination, and the right pharmacist you can add 35 extra lbs of unnatural muscle to your frame.

To be 100% honest, I was thinking that guy was on the juice back then, my only gripe with Nomar was that he was constantly being compared to Jeter. The Jeter-Nomar debate was in some ways the continuation of the Williams-DiMaggio debate that my grandparent's generation experienced. The immediate successor of the Fisk-Munson debate that was enjoyed by my parents.

My early days at Marist, and my first real exposure to Red Sox fans were spent trying to perfect my case for Jeter. The Sox fans my age loved their Nomahh, it was disgusting. He was probably the first *pink hat type player that the Red Sox have ever had.

*Note, a "pink hat" player is the player that the majority of female fans find ascetically pleasing. They are the girls who put on make up and turn a night at the ball park into a night of drunken prostitots. I will definitely write about this subject later

Anyway, here were are. I am going to be 5 years out of college, Garciaparra has just retired and Jeter has just won his 5th World Series. Nomar's fall from grace was ugly, I will let you read more about that, he even lost his ice cream flavor at J.P. Licks. (replaced by another potential candidate for the Sports Icon Fall From Grace Hall of Fame, Mr. David Ortiz.)

He was an extremely talented player who self-destructed. Tragically (and I sincerely mean that) his ambition and greed was his downfall. He bulked up so much that his body could not handle it, and became injury prone. With the loss of swing, his numbers sunk lower and lower. He saw himself making the type of money that Jeter and A-Rod were making and refused to re-sign with the Red Sox. Writers and players have cast him as an almost villainous role in the Red Sox clubhouse.

Oddly enough It was Nomar who opened the door for me to date Liz. I kind of knew who Liz was our freshman year of college, we were in the same dorm. She was not hard to miss that spring, decked out in Red Sox gear.

In my Religions in America class we had this project to create our own religion. By a 4-1 vpte, the group I was in decided to make a religion based on the Boston Red Sox.

So, I ended up interviewing Red Sox fans to try and get testimonials for our presentation, and I interviewed Liz. (Yeah, that was the first time I was on her bed) The way she spoke about her love of the team was so full of passion, and sincere, it kind of hit me. She told me this story of how her dad got seats that were on the Red Sox dugout and after every inning she was screaming for Nomah and pointing to her Garciaparra shirt, hoping he would make eye contact with her. Halfway through the story I had a giant crush on her, One year later we were dating.

98.5 The Sports Hub

2010-01-11T14:28:00.000-08:00

I got on the radio last Friday, for roughly 15 seconds before I was dumped on air to go to commercial.

Last Friday was one of those days where you question your career choices. In thirty minutes I went from ready to begin my lessons, to wondering if I ever should have left St. Anthony's. More than once I found myself thinking, "F these kids." I was supposed to have lunch duty that day as well, but I was able to switch out of it...thank God. If I did have lunch duty that day, I promise you there would have been a 13 year old with a black eye.

However, it was Friday. I had tickets to the UNH vs. Northeastern and BC vs. BU games at Fenway Park that night. I was ready to enjoy my weekend and let off some steam. I was also going to donate blood at Children's Hospital. I try to donate as frequently as I can, and have donated over one gallon. When the nurse told me to drink plenty of fluids, I replied that I intended to. I don't think she meant pitchers of Blue Moons at Copperfield's, but thats what I did.

On my way to Children's, I was listening to Felger and Massarotti on 98.5. These guys keep me entertained each day, and I like them better than when I would listen to Mike and the Mad Dog. While I drove on Route 9 they were talking about how Adolfo from the morning show was walking from the studio in Brighton to Gillette Stadium in Foxborough. Roughly a total of 24 miles. He would be wearing a football uniform with a Wes Welker Jersey and one of those Fathead cutouts of Welker on his back.

Adolfo called in and talked about his trip so far. He had some staff following him on his journey and they were going to drop him off at a hotel before it got dark. He was in great spirits during the trip and it sounded like he was enjoying himself. When he was giving the update he had traveled 14 miles.

I am thinking, holy shit. This guy is has three days to walk from Boston to Gillette and Bea and I did our 270 plus mile journey in two weeks. This is ridiculous.

I was hesitant about calling, I mean would they care? What they think I was lying? Then, oh my God I got through. The person who answered the phone wanted to know why I was calling. I was pretty nervous but I said that I was calling about Adolfo's trip.

"A few years ago, a buddy and I walked from Yankee Stadium to Fenway Park. We averaged 20 miles a day and finished in two weeks. Its totally doable."

The person on the other end sounded a little impressed, (maybe it was my imagination) and told me to hang on the line and that he was going to put me through. "Make sure your radio is down" was the last thing he said to me.

I turned my radio off and could hear the radio show on my phone. The caller ahead of me was talking about the Patriot's chance against the Ravens.

Then after his conversation Mike Felger said, "we have an update on Adolfo's jounrey."

What followed was awful, and luckily I got to hear it.

me: hi, I am calling about Adolfo's journey. He's gone, what 14 miles so far.

Felger: yes

me: well, I just wanna say that its totally doable. A few years ago a buddy and I walked from Yankee Stadium to Fenway Park. We did it in two weeks and averaged 20 miles a day.

Voice that was not Felger, "Were very proud of you"

then a commercial

I was confused and hung up the phone. I turned up the radio in the car and got to hear to whole thing. Oh my Go was it was painful.

So, yeah I made it on air, and embarrassingly was dropped within the same breath.

Happy Festivus

2009-12-23T07:25:00.001-08:00

Hope you all enjoy your Festivus. I aired some grievances today at work. Here are some articles you might find interesting from the News and the Globe.

"Ok, I have to go and break the coffee table now..."

2009-12-19T11:12:00.000-08:00

By mid June of last year I was feeling a bit burnt out. Teaching middle school had taken its toll on me, and I was feeling incredibly stressed about finishing the curriculum on time. With each passing day, my colleagues in the department were moving further and further past me with the material being covered. It had gotten so bad, that some of my students had begun to ask why their friends in other classes had finished this unit in May. My department chair had a meeting with me to discuss strategies of how I could catch up with everybody else. It was a professional low point.

Around May, my cell phone decided that it was no longer going to work. Essentially it became a nice little pocket watch. Texts and calls were not an option, but it was able to save all my phone numbers. Verizon was not to understanding, and basically my options were to tough it out for another month before I would get my phone.

Luckily, in the apartment was a rotary phone that I bought at a street fair in Brooklyn about two years ago. It was great to have, not as convenient as a cell phone though, but beggars can not be choosers. If I was having a whiskey on the rocks after work, I found myself making excuses to use the phone. I felt like I was on Madmen.

It was on the morning of the 11th of June that I went into work, tired, stressed, and annoyed. The Yanks had just finished their 7th consecutive loss to the Red Sox, and I had to listen to the gloating. It was crazy, they could not buy a freaken win against these guys. The AL East standings in my classroom would show that despite the run the Yanks had made, they were two games back the Sox, blowing away their AL East lead. At this point a play off appearance was about as likely as Ronny Rhodes winning the Biggest Loser.

When I got home from work, it became clear that I needed to let off some steam. From my last trip down to Long Island, I brought up some Blue Point Summer Ale. It had been sitting in my room for about two weeks now. 12 beers from my good friends at Blue Bell Beverages of Greenlawn.

I got out some quizzes and began to grade them while the beers cooled down in the fridge before game time. I was going to modify a plan that I learned from my very brief career as a bartender at the Artful Dodger.

A guy would come in around 7:30 on Tuesdays and order a couple of rounds of Killian's. Since he made up half the total population of the bar we would have some pretty good conversations. He was also a huge Yankee fan, and a great person to watch the games with. Didn't take up too much air time during the game, but had some really interesting anecdotes about going to the Stadium in the mid and late 90s.

During his "wild years" as he fondly called them, he and his buddies had developed a strategy to end any losing streak the Yankees were suffering through. A simple, two part formula that had to be followed was the key to their success.

I. You needed to consume one beer an inning. If you finished before the inning was over, you were not to pause, but continue.

II. Take a shot every time the Yankees score a run.

This slump buster, was apparently fool proof when all this buddies did this together as a team.

So, several years later and in the comforts of my living room, I took it upon myself to try his policy to stop the skid against the Sox.

As C.C. pitched, I pounded my Blue Points pretty quickly. It is amazing how much you can accomplish when you have a purpose. I would say by the 6th inning, the 12 pack was gone and I had raided the fridge for some Harpoons. Other than Ortiz's shot, things did not look to bad for the Yanks, and I relaxed a bit.

It was during the bottom of the 7th inning, flush from a 3 run Yankee attack, that I began to make some phone calls using the rotary phone. That was a challenge. Drunk and naturally uncoordinated people were not mean to use a rotary phone. Half way through dialing a number I forgot who I was calling, hung up and dialed my parents. (apparently for the second time that night)

When it fell apart in the bottom of the 8th, I was seething. I was talking to Billy at the time, and must have been on the phone with him for awhile. The title, was my apparent closing remarks before I hung up the phone on him.

*Note: I am not a violent person by any means, or a violent drunk for that matter. In the events that follow, I am completely out of character.

I threw the stuffed fake moose head we had at the wall by the T.V. This left a nice little dent in the wall. After that I flipped over the glass coffee table in the living room. It was at that moment, I realized that I was being a complete asshole. However, it was too late, there was a mound of shattered glass in the middle of the room.

I do not recall cleaning up the mess, but I did an outstanding job. No glass shards were ever found in the rug or anywhere for that matter. I also took the liberty to write an apology note to my roommates and hammer it (no nail was used, but a screw) to the entrance of the living room.

Work sucked the next day. This was left in my room, and I was hung over to boot. afterwards. I was mad at myself for acting like an immature ass and not having a lunch at work as well.

I know I am not the first fan to break furniture after a loss, but I plan on being a first time offender.

"Buy any outfielders lately?"

2009-12-15T06:19:00.000-08:00

I have to say that there is an aid that works in the building who is from Wellesley that I hate, and I do not use the turn loosely. Here is someone who has successfully found a way to irk me and get under my skin.

When he found out I was from New York, the Joe Torre book had just come out and he would ask me about that. I was reading it around the same time as he was, so our conversations were pretty civil and centered around the book. Things turned sour in the months of May and June. The former coffee table in the living room can attest to that.

When the Yanks could not buy a win against the Sox this spring, he was there busting my chops. If he wasn't such a douche bag, it probably would not have fazed me so much. I am not quite sure, but my bet is the last athletic things this guy did was a wiffle ball game in college with his other fagola friends.

When he commented on another Yankee loss last spring, I kindly told him that he was wearing women pants and walked out of my cafeteria duty. Not the most professional thing to do in the work place, but what is done is done. Turns out they were not for women, but for preppy douches.

When the Yanks won the World Series, he was subbing in for someone and asked if I was feeling pretty good. "Probably as good as you did when you found a cheat code for Rock Band asshole" Ok, I left out the asshole part, but the first part is true.

When the Yanks signed Granderson, He made that comment to me in the hallway. I will be honest, he looked legitimately disappointed when he said it. Like he was in a class that was being punished but he didn't make fart noised behind the subs back. I told him that I was pretty shocked by it, and that was the way the game worked. If he didn't like it, don't watch. He shook his head at me, and sulked off.

For the last few weeks, the press hear having been sounding the alarms about the Sox and the Pats making awful front office moves. Everyday I looked forward to reading the Globe, and it was some of the best radio that I could have been listening to. The sound of New Englanders whining was music to my ears.

All that gloom and doom talk seems to be gone now. Hideki Matsui is now on the Angels, and there is a chance that Chien Ming Wang will not be back next year. The Red Sox has made a move in the arms race against the Yankees by signing John Lackey. Up here in Boston, the same people who were calling for Theo's head on a platter, are once again singing his praises.

I guess thats how it works in sport, one minute your being recommended for special ed, the next your on the honor roll.

"Joe DiMaggio was a better baseball player because he married Marilyn Monroe" or Fueling the Rivalry

2009-12-07T16:46:00.000-08:00

I found a way to successfully bring a baseball debate into the classroom that had to do with my school curriculum. The 8th grade writes a paper on the mills of Lowell. There are several options for how the students can approach the Lowell paper but the most common essay topics are the following

1. was working at Lowell a good thing or a bad thing for the Mill Girls?

2. how did the factory owners at Lowell deny power to the Mill Girls? How did the Mill Girls respond?

For about one month, the kids are bombarded with primary and secondary sources on the Industrial Revolution and the city of Lowell. The process tends to burn us (the kids and the teachers) out, and grading tends to me slow going.

One of my major concerns with this project is that it is the first time these kids are writing a paper for Social Studies and many of them have a hard time defending or proving a thesis. Teaching writing has always been a daunting task for me, and I never am satisfied with my lessons. My goal was to teach my students how to use Primary Sources to defend a statement and have them write a brief paper before the Lowell essay.

Sports might be the most argued and debated topic in some places, even more so then politics. It would be the perfect lesson to teach my students how to defend an argument and to prove something. So, I turned to baseball.

Getting ready for the Walk a few years ago, I read about every available book that I could find on either the Yankees or the Red Sox including biographies of certain players. The debate over who was greater Ted Williams or Joe DiMaggio was often discussed in those books. Teaching exactly 11 miles from Fenway Park, I knew that I had my topic.

I broke several copyright laws over the next few days and made copies of pages from Teammates and Summer of '49, both by David Halbstram, Emperors and Idiots, and The Curse of the Bambino. I made copies of DiMaggio's obituary from the New York Times, as well as an article from when he retired that was available online. I also brought in copies of editorials and obituaries on Ted Williams.

I realized that having a third statement to support might be a good option to have. I thought about Pa, and how highly he spoke about Joe DiMaggio. My third essay topic became, "Joe DiMaggio was a positive role model for Italian-Americans." I found some editorials online that would help the students prove this case. To give them more sources, I highlighted several pages of Richard Ben Cramer's biography of Joe D.

The classes were divided into groups that were assigned one of the thesis statements and spent the first two days gathering evidence and writing opening paragraphs. Some of them got really into it, it was amazing. There were some rough spots, like the quote that is the title, but I was really happy with the results.

The debate was something that they were now apart of, something that the media and the fans would speak about for over 60 years. For most of these kids it was the first time that they actually saw the accomplishments of two of the greatest ball players that have ever lived. I was glad I could show them just how amazing both of those athletes were.

Kids who normally don't speak in class participated and shared their arguments and evidence with the class. I had one students bring in actual photographs of Joe DiMaggio his brother Dominic and Ted Williams that she found in her grandfather's basement. The topic seemed to bring even the shyest kids out of their shell for a bit.

But, In the end, it might have been the student wearing an Ortiz shirt writing how Joe DiMaggio was better then Ted Williams my most awarding moment.

"See up here we like to win our World Series in 4 Games"

2009-12-03T07:57:00.000-08:00

I am a superstitious person when it comes to certain things. At school, I need to park my car at a certain spot, and drink coffee from the appropriate mug on the right day. I do not know how it started, but it kind of just happened. When it comes to watching a game, I have my own little rituals and habits that I guess are not too uncommon in the world of fandom.
During the World Series I started to wear a gift my mom got for me on my 16th birthday, a commemorative 1998 New York Yankees World Series watch. The battery had died about 5 years ago, but other then that it was in excellent condition. I would wear the watch during the day, and once the game started it would be taken off and placed on the new coffee table in my apartment. (The coffee table being new is a different story) It was weird wearing a watch that didn't work, especially when somebody asked me what time it was and I replied that I did not know.
Another element of crazy that I started to do, actually began during the playoffs. During the games I would only drink two different beers, Rolling Rocks and Ballantines. The reasons being, Rolling Rocks were the favorite beer of my grandfather, who is the whole reason I am even a fan, and Ballantine Ale used to be the official sponsor of the New York Yankees. A home run in Yankee Stadium used to be called a "Ballantine Bash" by former Yankee announcer Mel Allen. Needless to say, there were some long playoff games that lead to rough days at work the next day.
Finally, there was a family jinx that I felt I needed to rectify. I could easily be mistaken with the year that this event occurred, regardless here is the story:

My brother and I went to a party in the summer of 2001. We were both working at a summer camp, and parties at a staff members were very quick to throw a party when parents were gone for a weekend. At this party, my brother Vinnie went into the fridge and found a bottle of champagne. To the delight of all but the residents of the house, Vinnie opened up the bottle of champagne and started to spray it all over the kitchen. He jumped up and down shouting, "I'm the New York Yankees!!" We got the pictures to prove it.

The playoff story of the Yankees up until this year did not end with a champagne shower.

So, the afternoon of Game Six, I went to pick up some more Ballantine and Rolling Rock, and purchased a bottle of cheap champagne . I told myself, "If they win, I am spraying champagne and canceling out Vinnie." I even talked to Vinnie on the phone when I made my purchase. My fear then became that the bottle of champagne would remain uncorked and become a symbol of my stupidity. If this became a Buckner game, I would have blamed myself.

When Jobba came in for Petite in the sixth I began to get ready. On my itunes I got New York, New York ready to play. (something I regretfully did in Game 4 in the ALCS) I cord plugged ithe laptop nto the T.V. so it would be loud enough for my neighbors to hear Sinatra. I got my champagne bottle out of the fridge and opened the window in anticipation.

When the final out was made, I threw the window open and popped the champagne bottle. I yelled, "Fuck you Boston!", and blasted Sinatra. The volume was as loud as possible, and thanks to the bass the walls shook a bit.

Then I stood there, and watched the post game celebrations on the field. A-Rod awkwardly running with his hands up, Jeter's fist pump, the dugout clearing were all played out to Sinatra's voice. When I saw the coaches hug each other, I felt proud of Girardi.

Suddenly, I became reflective about how much had changed for me, since the last time the Yankees won.

The last time the Yankees won I watched the World Series with my grandfather. I was a senior in high school, and had not even applied to any colleges. Pa was rooting to Mike Piazza during that series because he was Italian, and a Roman Catholic. The last World Series game my grandfather watched, was Game 6 of the 2003 World Series.

My cousin Nicky wasn't married yet. Now, he has a beautiful wife Liz, and two sons, Lucca and Jude. Jude was born the day the Yankees won the pennant this year.

My aunt Judi was diagnosed with brain cancer last year, and was to weak to make it to the last game at Old Stadium. Now, a year later, she was at the New Stadium watching the Yankees celebrate first hand, and taking part in the "Whose your Daddy?" chants.

My sisters, Anastasia and Zina were not even here when the Yankees won in 2000. They were both toddlers living in Russia.

My father was not yet a lieutenant in the FDNY. He was taking courses to study for the exam.

I went from being on Cloud 9 to suddenly very, very homesick. I wanted to be at St. Anthony's tomorrow, talking to the other Yankee fans about it. Making plans for the parade with people. I wanted to listen to Mike Francessa talk on the FAN about the Series. I wanted the Daily News, and CBS 880, Eyewitness News in the morning with Joel Nolan and Bille Evens telling about parade day traffic and weather.

Instead I went to bed and woke up to 98.5 the Sports Hub. I had Toucher and Rich talk about the Yankees win, and WBZ tell me about the weather in New England. I did wear my Derek Jeter jersey to work that day, which is what prompted that title comment from a student. That pissed me off. This little shit was ignorant of the World Series in 1947, 1967, 1975, and 1986. Which I enlightened him in class, then I asked him where Pedroia and Varitek were.

The payroll came up in conversation several times. I don't care if the Yankees had C.C. or Texiera, or a Babe Ruth clone. They did it, and that was all that mattered to me. You don't like it, well don't watch and Fuck you. I am enjoying my moment.

Some of my colleagues were gracious enough to congratulate me during the day, something I could have never done. Only one real person gave me a hard time that day, a guy who works at the Italian deli in Wellesley. We get lunch there probably once a week, it is amazing. The dialogue went something like this:

Deli Guy: (seeing my Jeter jersey) oh, you gotta wear that in here today!?! What are you showing off?
me: What? How am I showing off? If your team won would you be showing off?
D.G.: well..
me: no! Then why am I a show off?
D.G: come on get outta here
me: if you want me to leave I will, but you damn well know that I got like a $40 lunch order going right now. You know you want my money
D.G.: alright
me: let's face it. You wanted us to win, you needed us to win. You want me on that wall. You need me on that wall!
D.G: I would never root for the Yankees

Hey, he and I both know that we need each other, I wasn't leaving since he's got great prosciutto from Parma, and he wasn't kicking me out since I am paying his kid's college tuition.

"Hey, Gehrig batted after Ruth...No worries!" (punctuation mine)

2009-08-13T19:58:00.000-07:00

The title of this blog is a text I got from John after a more ominous and threatening message that read:

"blog or no sandals"

I told John that after reading his last two posts I couldn't possibly blog ever again...anywhere on the internet. Well, it wasn't that dramatic, but you get the idea. Anyway, John inspired me with his words of encouragement about Gehrig and Ruth and then Meagan kept badgering me to blog as well, so here I am blogging to close out the trip...A week later.

The last day was pretty humdrum in comparison to the other days. Meagan's knee was still bothering her and she joined us about 12 miles in at the beginning of the Boston Marathon Route for the remaining 25+ miles. The start of the ride was hilly, but not asskicking hilly...With the only exception being one hill on Main St. in Hopkinton in which I unsuccessfully tried to goose John, bumped into his tire causing him to lose momentum and forcing him to walk up the hill (I made it to the top...I apologized to him afterwards).

The Marathon route consisted of a beer at the Happy Swallow, a delightful lunch and one final (albeit incomplete) game of "I Went to Fenway Pahk"...I can't remember the whole thing, but there was an Ahdvahk (like an anteater), My Brother Tawmmy, The Green Mawnsta, Ice Cream Bahs, Those Damn Red Sawks, Manny Hair, A Friggin Sweet Hat and most importantly, Timy brought

THE HURT!

This game helped to distract us for a good portion of the ride, although I'm sure the fact that it was the last day was always in the back of all of our minds. But it wasn't until we saw the Citgo sign by Fenway that it dawned on me that we had actually done it...We had completed the ride...Or had we?

That's right loyal readers (aka Mrs. Letson)...Although we did indeed make it from Point A (Yankee Stadium) to Point B (Fenway), did we actual COMPLETE the ride? The answer is, no...We didn't. And in fact, nobody has!!

That's right...NOBODY. Sorry Liz...Sorry Bea...But it's a fact. Yes, mileage-wise MAYBE the two of you did, BUT...Not a single rider over the last two years has rode his or her bike from the starting point of every day to the end point of every day. I know I got us lost on day one last year, and I still feel bad but we didn't finish the day.

Don't get me wrong...There's no better feeling in the world on the ride then getting to Fenway and placing your hand on that rollup garage door. At the same time, what we accomplished is not diminished by the fact that we did not ride the entire route. It is still a tremendous feat of skill, strength and will.

What does it mean?

Simple...We have to do it again.

As I said last year, and ad nauseum this year, everything happens for a reason...So the cab rides each of the last two years were unavoidable...The results of our decisions AND events beyond our control. If we're determined to finish this ride, we'll do it again. Unlike last year, I'm not hesitant to commit to the ride again a week after having finished it. I would gladly do it again, and fully intend to if there is a willing contingent of riders with whom to take the journey.

In the interim, I'll prepare myself and hope for the best.

I had a blast this year and shared some great experiences with some really amazing people and I loved every minute of it...EVERY minute of it...The good, the bad AND the ugly. Until next year sports fans...Or maybe if I post once more...

So it goes...

"Welcome to the Audi Club"

2009-08-10T17:00:00.000-07:00

Over the past few months there have been reviews of the New Stadium by papers, magazines, current and former players,T.V. stations, and countless bloggers. This isnt about the Stadium but about my family.
My Aunt Judy was a season tickt holder since the early 70s. After Pa, I would say that she is the biggest Yankee fan in the family. Her seats were simply amazing. Overlooking the Yankees batter box you were so close you could see individual sweat drops beading down Giambi's neck. I have gotten to go to some games with my cousin Mary or my Aunt, and I will never forget them. When the new Stadium plans came out, the Yankees left her and many other fans in the dark. Her seats were no longer affordable. After over 30 years of loyal patronage, no bargain, no discount, no nothing. Out in the cold, to make room for corporate sponers and company seats. When I hear about the empty seats in first rows of the Stadium, I think serves them right. They boxed out good people, and kharma is a bitch.
My Aunt was diagnosed with brain cancer last fall. I found out shortly after I moved up to Boston and started working at the Middle School. I was floored, and a million thoughts rushed through my head. I never felt so far from home in my life. In the past, I felt that I had always been able to step up to the plate when the family needed me, now it was as if I was useless.
The next few weekends I drove down from Boston to home on a regular basis. I went to the hospital, baby sat, and did whatever I could to try and help. The Yanks were out of the play off race, letting her down again. She was to sick to make it to the last game at the Stadium, and most of my family had no intrest in watching it anyway. (I think the tickets are still in her house)
I am happy to say that she has rebounded, and was strong enough to make it to Opening Day at the New Stadium. I do not know if it was irony or fate, but she has been getting treatment at Sloan Kettering, a charity that we gave money to last year. The people at Sloan are really exceptional, and for me the trip now meant more to me.
As Judy, myslf, my cousin Nicky, and his son Luca, walked into the Great Hall before the game there was a Dinseyesque atmosphere to the place. Sox and Yanks fans milled around gazing at the banners of Yankee greats, or stared at the jumbo tron showing batting practice. Sons and fathers posed under signs, as we headed towards our seats. Seeing my cousin with his son on his shoulders made me so happy. Luca was taking it all in, excited to see Derek Jeter, and more excited about his new shirt. He called the Yankees his team, and I hope it stays that way.
The seats were given to my Aunt by her friend Billy. Billy had reserved seats in the Audi Club for the four of us for 7. Judy said we would go up after the first inning. Walking around the Stadium, I could see the old one out of the corner of my eye. It was covered in a black screen, in preperation for the dismantling, it looked like it was wearing a mourning veil.
My Aunt and I attempted to make it to the Yankee Museum and were greeted by a 90 minute wait. She was willing to stick it out, but I was not. Im not going to make her stand there and miss the first few innings.
After a very quick first inning, we went to the Audi Club. A private elevator and an air conditioned lobby greeted us. Inside the lobby was a statue of George M. Steinbrenner III, sternly guarding the entrance way. I laughed out loud, as I passed the Boss and was greeted by an elevator operator. Judy and I then went to the Audi Club, and were given a warm reception.
The seats were plush, and we found a view with several flatsreens on the wall. Nicky and Luca came up a few minutes after us, and I could tell by Nicky's eyes that he did not want to stick around. Luca could not sit still, and thought that he would not get his seat by the field back, so Nicky went back to the seats. I was staying, I saw that there was sushi.
A whole dinner table filled with sushi. Rows and rows of beatiful looking tuna, slamon, shrimp, and California rolls waiting for me. Now, I did not know that the sushi was not self serve, so I walked over with my plate and started filling my plate as if I had just escaped a famined nation, I was approached by a server who loudly told me, "hey! You have to get served You can't touch the fish." I quickly said I was sorry, and saw that only five people were staring at me shaking their heads. So it could have been worse. By the third time I made it up to the sushi, the server was my buddy and hooked it up.
Judy looked relaxed and seemed to enjoy the a/c and the comfy seat. On her plate was some leftover Yankee potroast sliders and a piece of dessert. She encouraged me to eat more, which I olbliged. (Hey, you got to get your money's worth"
Around the fifth inning (don't judge me) we made it back to our seats. With my mercury level probably at an unhealthy level and my stomach filled with filet mignon I limped along my aunt, perfectly content. Then, I saw the black veil, and I felt so guilty. I was a bleacher guy at the Old Stadium, and here I was fresh from the Audi Club. I felt like Fredo being confronted by Michael, I did something wrong and was caught, the boat ride could not have been to far off.
Back at the seats Judy and I heckled the Sox players. She agreed that Pedroia looked like a smug asshole in his picture on the big screen. She also said that Youk looked like a child molestor. I told her about Varitek and the affaisr he had with the woman from NESN, that was interesting to her. Oh, and three rows in front of me, Stephen Colbert. Yeah, from the Report. He drank Bud Light, has two young sons, and a daughter, probably in high school. He sang God Bless America, wears Gap Jeans, and has an iPhone, with a Star Wars Storm Trooper decal on the back. No, I didn't yell his name but I did make him laugh with my heckling.
We left at the top of the 8th one of the greatest and longest games between the Sox and Yanks. *Hey, Luca is 3. If it was up to me, we would have stayed until the 15th, and he could have napped in the chair. I watched the rest of the game in my recliner at home, thanking God I saved my ticket.
In one of my classes this summer, an assignment was to use clay and create a memorial for anything we wanted. We had about 45 minutes, and were supposed to write on a piece of paper a brief description of what it meant. I am far from artistic, and my abilities range from stick figures to drawing Garfield. I did know what I wanted, and now I wish I took a picture but I will desribe it.
It was a baseball diamond, complete with foul poles. On first base, was what was supposed to be a wooden chair. On second base there was a more modern looking chair. Third base had a bench on it, and home plate was left alone.
One the card was my description:

Yankee Stadium 1923-2008
Three Generations of Yankee Fans

First Base: "The Old Stadium"
My Grandfather was the first Yankee fan in my family. He went there to watch his favorite player Joe DiMaggio play. He is the one who started it all

Second Base: "The Bronx Zoo"
My mom went to the games in the 1970s during the heyday of the "Bronx Zoo". She watched Guidry pitch, and Munson catch. She continued the flame

Third Base "The Bleachers"
I love the bleachers, and spent most of the games that I could afford out there. I took my sisters to their first game in the left field bleachers, and got a package deal for the Last Season.

Yankee Stadium had entertained, intimidated, thrilled, dissapointed, and exhilerated three generations of my family. We all could count on sharing that one common experience of a Yankee game as if it was one of the Sacrements of growing up. For that, I am eternally grateful for but also sorry for. My children and grandchildren will only know about the "House that Ruth Built" from stories and photgraphs. Like love one that has passed away, the experiences at the Stadium become somthing larger then life. The Yankees have been apart of my family since my grandfather was a small child in Little Italy, and will continue to be as his grandchildren grow up and have families of their own.

"We've come a long long way together, through the hard times and the good..."

2009-08-10T11:43:00.000-07:00

*I have one more post about my trip to the new Stadium for later*

Driving back from Boston Saturday morning we listened to the 90's station on Sirius in Meg Mac's car. We heard some great tunes, some that reminded me of awkward dances in 7th and 8th grade, or driving in my friends car in high school. The card ride turned into a mini dance party as we drove went up hills that did not require third gear, a nice change of pace. As my hangover gradually dissipated (those Cliff Bar shots found a new purpose) Fat Boy Slim came on and I thought about how fortunate I really was.

So that being said, to all my Riding the Rivalry friends and family, I have to priase you like I should.

Billy Quinn you are a great friend, and I missed your sense of humor on this trip. Thanks for the pep text messages this year, and our "Magic Bus" ride into the BX this year. I hope your on the trip next year, and that the Mets don't give you any more headaches this year.

Bea I feel awful that I missed you while you were up in Boston, and hope we can meet up later in the year. You set the blog up, so all those reading this owe you some thanks. If it wasn't for you, we never would have finished last year, and this trip would not have occurred. You are a stand up guy Alex, and a great friend.

Elizabeth I know that you really wanted to make the trip this year and I am sorry I had to switch the dates. Not many people would drive two and a half hours from work to cook for four sweaty cyclists, let alone wake up extra early to drive back the next day. You not only listen to my crazy ideas but you encourage them and for that, I am very blessed.

Timy you made my fake I.D. college, and since that day my bank account has been hurting. That bike trail day is my favorite day of the trip and you made that happen. I could not have finished the trip without you this year. You owned those hills on the last day and should be very proud of yourself for that. If there was a "Big Man" award for the trip you earned it.

Meg Mac you smiled every day this trip. (It might have been a grimace from the pain a few times) I do not know a single person who could be smiling after taking on some of those hills but you did it. Thanks for bringing a great attitude on this trip, it was contagious. Without your constant picture taking, God only knows what moments would have been missed. I also hope that you enjoyed my rendition of "Delirious Love" for you and Billy.

Billy Corrao I never had an older brother, but you are definitely the closest thing have ever had to one. From the Hot Dog Quest, to the tuxedos at work you were always with me on harebrained schemes and the outrageous. I have always respected your ideas on teaching and opinions. Thanks for the prayers each morning and for providing stability. You have always been a great friend, no homo.

Tim Donovan drove out of his way to pick us up in Spencer when things got rough. The incredible thing is, this is a typical Tim Donovan move. He would give you the shirt off of his back, and the whiskey out of his glass if you asked for it. Thanks for throwing us a great BBQ in Shrewsbury and for your hospitality.

Rod Lucia thanks for all the advice and help you gave me with the bike. I appreciate your knowledge and patience with me. Sue thanks for reading the blog and being such a big help these past few years. You are both really incredible people

Letson family there are not enough words to describe your graciousness. Every time I go to your house I feel welcome and relaxed. Mrs. Letson thanks for that lovely comment earlier, it meant a great deal to me.

Jean and Joe I know that you have both never read this blog, and Jean you probably will never turn on the computer but, you both deserved to be mentioned. My parents are some of the hardest working people I have ever met and I admire them for their work ethic and commitments. There were times when I did not do my best or live up to their expectations and I know that I still did not let them down. I know that if I didn't finish the ride they would be there to support me and not judge me, and that why I never could quit. They called me every day, and my mom always wanted to be sure that I ate enough. When we ate at the Little Red Riding Hood store in Mass, there was a sign that said, "God's Greatest Gift is Family" and I cant think of a better way to end this post.

The remaining three (days)

2009-08-07T18:46:00.000-07:00

Well, as you all know, the 2009 rivalry ride has officially come to an end. But since I might be de-friended by John (in life, not just on facebook) if I didn't blog about every single day of my journey, here comes the recap...

Day #5

Was probably my favorite day as far as scenery goes. We jumped on some bike paths for majority of the day. These babies were relativel flat, quiet and not crowded. They also traveled across bridges, alongside rivers and streams, and under towering trees. It was beautiful! But even better than the ambiance (pronounced aaahhhhmbioonce) was our two games of going-on-a-picnic played during our travels. Apparently we plan to bring a lot of unnecessary items on our picnics, so please see WJC's post for a full recap.

We stumbled across a minor road block (literally) when a section of the bike path was being repaved. We were definitely yelled at by a backhoe operator, but also managed to make friends with a shirt-less, spandex-wearing native gentleman who uninvitingly joined our journey for several miles. However his random conversation definitely made it worthwhile.

We also stopped at a cute little coffeeshop where I schooled Will.i.am. in checkers while Timy taught John the fundamentals of abacus (definition: also called a counting frame, it is a calculating tool used primarily in parts of Asia for performing arithmetic processes).

On a personal note, about 3/4ths into the ride my right knee started aching. It felt like I was developing possible tendonitis or ITB syndrome, but it could also be residual pains from an old college injury (no comments if you witnessed this injury first hand at QU circa 2005. Yes it was at the 80's party and involved frozen hotpockets. No I will not give more details.) But I managed to tough out the rest of the ride, and treated myself with some good food (Thanks Liz!!!), good wine, and an excellent albeit painful massage later that night.

Day #6

Was my let-down day. First of all, I woke up with some pretty intense right knee pain. I thought it would have subsided with some rest and relaxation, but apparently wine really can't cure all things. Secondly I knew that this day would be the most demanding physically, with the highest mileage count and most intense hills of the entire trip. I was in pretty poor spirits from the start.

We attempted to make some breakfast, but quickly realized that we had no other ingredients besides two ripe tomatoes and a carton of eggs. So we put the eggs away, Johnny fed tomatoes to the wildlife, we followed an extensive to-do list for closing up shop at Aunt Debs, stretched some of our muscle pains away and got on our bikes to find food.

It was fate! John somehow managed to find the perfect breakfast spot- an All-Organic diner with fresh-squeezed juices, nationally recognized blueberry pancakes and all homemade muffins and breads. Does that have my name written all over it or what?! We made our way to the counter, ate a ridiculous amount of food, took some pictures of John's gigantic pancake (chocolate chip, not blueberry... and yes I ate half) and continued with the ride.

We got about 20 miles into it, when I started to really feel the hurt. Each pedal around felt like something was going to snap in my knee. Now I'm thinking this is NOT tendinitis... maybe I tore my meniscus? maybe I had a stress fracture from falling on the bike on day #2? (...and yes, the fact that I do this for a living wasn't helping the matter. Overanalyze is my middle name)

I got so far as a random trading post company when I physically couldn't go anymore. I was literally falling off the bike in pain. Billy, being the wonderful boyfriend/bikeride companion that he is, stayed with me through my struggles. We called about 15 cab companies but no one could accomodate our two bicycles. Finally after it stopped raining and I was able to rest for some time, I decided I could make it to the town where John and Tim were eating lunch. It took some time, but we did make it. When we arrived, I was lectured on the importance of 'safety first, safety always' by John, and how he and Billy both didn't want to be yelled at by my mom for permanent damage. We ate some lunch and attempted to continue the ride.

We made it so far as Spencer when we decided that I could definitely not continue because that would be stupid, and that even if they rode their fastest, they couldn't make it to our destination before nightfall. A lot of trial and error options were attempted, but ultimately Billy just bought a bike rack, Tim picked us up and drove us back to his parent's place. We ate some bbq (excellent veggie skewers by the way!), drank some burrs, listened to stories about Scott's best friends... and passed out.

Day #7

What a bittersweet day! I couldn't believe this day had finally come. I was still in a ridiculous amount of pain and after a brief test-ride in the morning, knew I couldn't make it the full distance. We planned it out that Tim would drive me to the starting line of the boston marathon route and the boys would ride the full distance. Since the marathon route had fewer hills we thought I might be able to handle it. And if not, it had a ton of opportunities for public transportation!

I played around in the public library for about 45 minutes until we all met up at the starting line. We all rode the last 25 miles together, definitely at a slower pace due to my bum leg... but nevertheless it was together. We made a few pit stops along the way- at the delicious Linden (sp?) deli where we finally had a real picnic under a tree (side note: we brought nothing of what we spoke of on day #6, besides lemonade-iced tea mix), at the Happy Swallow bar for some beers and keno, and a rousing game of "I'm goin' ta Fenway Paahhhk, and I'm gonnna bring..." en route (I'll let Billy blog the details.) It was a tough couple of hills at the end, and my left buttcheek was totally on fire... but we made it through.

We ended our trip just as we started- with a picture outside of the stadium each one with a hand touching the wall outside. Only this time we had a few more scrapes, bumps and bruises on our bodies. And courtesy of Johnnyboy, cups of Jamo in our hands for a celebratory cheers.

It was a LONG journey, but we did it. All four of us. Billy's Dasani bike. My stupid knee. John's cut up elbow and leg. and Tim's... well,.... Tim really didn't have anything wrong with him. haha. but in the end you kicked ass on those hills! So... good for you Tim!

I learned a lot about myself on this trip, but also I learned a lot about each of you... things I don't think I ever would have seen or experienced in any other setting.

This was an incredibly challenging journey- mentally, emotionally and of course physically. I'm happy to have shared in it with you three.

"I knew you were unathletic John, but Jesus F'n Chirst it's a bike...little kids ride them"

2009-08-05T19:40:00.000-07:00

Words of Wisdom from Mr. Scott Semple, Attorney. He was enjoying the fact that I fell off of my bike twice today. The last time, was when I was peddling uphill in Spencer Mass, and just keeled over and, boom, I am on the ground with some of my upper body in the right lane. Timy, laughed and wondered out loud how that was possible. I do not know.
It is pathetic that I think about blog titles during the course of my day. One option was: "I hope you stay ahead of the weather." This was said by a kindly firefighter from Ware Mass, who filled up our water bottles today. He also said, "This is why I don't ride my bike." Which might have been the title at one point. Other potential titles were:

"He loves grass"
"These things happen Johnny"
"Sweet Emotion"
"Did you have a cannoli today?"
"Band on the run"
"Love your socks"

howver, the Coronas kicked in and that is what is sticking in my head right now. So there we are.

Today started out with me riding my bike in a button down Columbia shirt. The joke was how Billy was going to loosen up my buttons before the ride was out. I was sweaty, and regretting the shirt choice, but the thought of beers and friends in Shrewsbury kept me going. Also, this would be the hardest day for me of thr trip. once it was over, it would be smooth sailing for me, and I would finish. I didnt finish what I started last year, and I was so close to completing it.
It was not meant to be. There were other plans for us this afternoon. In Spencer, Meg had the brillant idea of renting a Uhaul to get us to Donny's. Uhaul was closed though. (Billy and I walked over to check it out.) For a college town, Worcestor could not provide us with a big enough cab for 4 people and 4 bikes. One cab company hung up on Billy, after the fact they guaranteed a ride for people with bikes earlier. I felt so lied to. I bet Po-town could have, nay, would have cam through. Timothy M. Donovan came to our rescue this afternoon and picked us up at the side of the road. Thankfully, we were across from a bike store and Billy purchased a bike rack so we (and out bikes) could arrive in Shrewsbury.
A BBQ soon followed. Beers, laughs, stories, and laughs all followed. I am a fortunate person to have such great people in my life.
Tomorrow is the worst day for me, its the end. All over. Christmas Afternoon, a drop in excitement.

The day finally came

2009-08-05T17:42:00.000-07:00

I was fearing that today would come. Since we had managed to make it this far I figured that we would make it to Boston without any major incidents. This unfortunately was not to happen. We were going along pretty well this morning. We left Aunt Deb's this morning in search of breakfast since there was nothing in her house. We found a great little place which served breakfast which was good for Billy, John and I and it was all organic which worked great for Meagan. We got back on the road and we were making good time. We got to Ware and we were heading through town looking for a gas station to get more water at and we came across some firemen washing their trucks who offered to fill up our camelbaks. We were chatting with them and one of them said that he hoped we rode fast enough to stay ahead of the weather. And with that the day was jinxed. We were heading out of Ware and we made it to the top of a huge hill when it startyed to rain. John and I started down the other side and stopped by the bottom at a nice little Inn. It was starting to reeally come down so when Billy and Meagan caught up we held there for a little while to try to wait out the bad weather. It started to let up and we left. A little while later Meagans Knee began to bother her. Billy left John a message saying that they were going to try to get a cab and we would try to meet up later. John and I kept on going and when we got to Spencer we went to Subway for lunch. John upon entering the restaurtant told me that he was goin to have two. Yes thats right two footlongs in one sitting. He is a champion and you have to fuel the machine. We then after talking to Meagan and Billy a few more times waited there to figure out how we were going to proceeed since they had not been able to find a cab that would be able to acomodate the bikes and them. We then started to realize that even at a great rate of speed we wouldn't be able to make it to Timmy's house by a reasonable hour and we really didn't want to be riding through the bowels of Worcester after dark. Thankfully Timmy was able to come out and rescue us after the idea to try to get a one way uhaul rental fell through. We are now here at Timmy's enjoying a brew and hanging out. Burgers should be ready soon so till tomorrow I am signing off. Wish us luck for our last day.

A bench in Spencer, Mass.

2009-08-05T15:06:00.000-07:00

That could be the answer given on Jeopardy and the correct response would either be:
a) Where is some place you do not want to get stranded?
b) Where are you most likely to not be able to get a cab? or
c) Where am I currently blogging from?

All three would actually be a proper response. Kind of like that Cheers episode and Cliff is given three historical figures and he writes "who are three people who have never been in my kitchen?"

Anyway, today was an interesting, frustrating and generally bizarre day. It was a very hilly day from start to finish and that is what led to many of our problems. Some of our problems included a stuck bike chain, falling of our bike, and a knee problem of unknown severity. But I'm not going to focus on the bad stuff, I'm going to talk about the good.

First, we ate at the Roadhouse Cafe. For those of you who are unaware, this place was nominated the best blueberry pancakes in the northeast! That's insane, right? Guess how many blueberry pancakes we ate as a group... I'll wait... Zero. Not one of us ordered one of these famous pancakes. Breakfast was delicious anyway, but still...

Next I want to give much love to Timy for making tremendous strides since day one. He really struggled out of the gate but the last couple of days he has been cruising up hills like a pro. So not only does he bring an endless supply of movie an T.V. quotes to rival John, but he's been a huge asset to the trip.

My next story is a brief one. Meagan and I, separated from the pack once again, found ourself at the "Tombstone Trading Co." a gun shop if you could believe it. I entered this seemingly reputable establishment to inquire about the phone number for a local taxi service (a long story which I'll leave up to Meagan to tell). The gentlemen were not very cordial in the least and one went so far as to advise me to "quit wasting my time and maybe try the bus." As I was about the exit the edifice, one of the old men's hearts must have grown 3 sizes a la The Grinch. He offered Meagan and I a ride "to Spencer, but I can't getcha no further." What a sport! Shortly thereafter another man offered us a ride in his pickup truck, but Meagan bravely insisted we decline and we got back on the road.

We eventually made it to Spencer, reconnected with Timy and John, had a delicious lunch at Subway where we explained the ride to the amazament of the employees (who insisted that as much as they like Lance Armstrong they could never do what we're doing.)

Now, knowing that sunlight is short and Worcester is not a place you want to be caught in the dark, we're waiting in Spencer on a bench listening to some teenage babysitter explain how much her little charge "loves grass" as she admires John's socks. We will not ride all the way to our intended destination, but the day has not been a failure... I'll let the others explain once we get to Donnie's parents' house. As for me, I'm done... I just blogged from my iPhone.

So it goes...

"I don't like that in order for you to win an argument you have to yell and be vulgar"

2009-08-04T19:24:00.000-07:00

Yes, Liz and I got into a little debate this evening after dinner regarding David Ortiz and the steroid issue. I had some choice words about it, and Liz did not appreciate it. Very rude of me to do to someone who drove out to Amherst cooked for us and then has to drive in the next day to work at 6 a.m. However, my Irish was up and I felt in the right. If you have had dinner at my house, you know that in order to win an argument you need to be loud and vulgar, but I digress..

I do not "plug" or give shout outs to anything/anyone who does not deserve it, or who has not helped us out during these trips. That being said this little organization http://www.fvgreenway.org/, really, really, really, made today an easy relaxing day. Timer did some phenomenal recon in spotting this route that was a real breeze. We only had a few miles of traveling on real roads, the rest was greenway all the way.
At the rail trail in Amherst/Northampton (http://www.mass.gov/dcr/parks/central/nwrt.htm) we enjoyed some very scenic views and smells. Tobacco fields, dairy farms, and two teenagers smoking weed in the woods were some of the local flavor that we enjoyed. As I passed the kids I yelled back that I smelt the Devil's Lettuce.
The whole day could not have been without some sort of drama. As we entered the rail trail portion of Massachusetts the trail was closed. They were actually paving the trail towards the end of the trail in Ct. A gentleman who has been unemployed for the past two years (he told us) explained the route to Billy as we rode behind and enjoyed the conversation. He was not wearing a shirt, and was just wearing spandex. If the Ride was a movie, this would be the perfect cameo by Gary Busy. He also had a rubber toucan (not Toucan Sam from Fruit Loops) on his handle bars.
He was a character of the day and so was the the guy from the Bike Shop in Simsbury. He was a skinny, in shape John Malckavich who spoke to me like I was an abusive parent on trial. "This bike should not have a rack on it." (oh yeah asshole, how are the paniers going to get on them?) "Why do you need a third gear, you climbing any mountains?" (ummm, yeah a few actually. I can tell your single from your people skills and your body odor.) "Oh this bike is filthy!" (Remember all that rain we had over the past few days? I was riding through it, not taking bong hits on my couch and watching reruns of Wings you Goddamn college dropout!!)
So, I know it is a generalization but people who are into cycling or riding have either been friendly or helpful or smug assholes. I am basing that on my experiences.
All in all, I am thankful to be doing this trip with some amazing people and overwelmed by the generosity that has been given along the way.

P.S.

2009-08-04T19:16:00.000-07:00

I went on a bit of a singing kick today.

I sang the Alphabet Game up to T.
I sang "Green Light" by John Legend to make a traffic light turn green. (it segued into a "that's what she said" joke if you can imagine that.)
And I sang a song about "Meagan Anne MacMenamie" and her banged up knee, but she has that on her camera.

So it goes...

"You're an ass..."

2009-08-04T18:45:00.000-07:00

Day 5 is in the books and Meagan uttered the above phrase and scarily reminded me of my mother.

The day started by my ruining of the Letson's table cloth with maple syrup (sorry Mrs. Letson!) while enjoying a wonderful breakfast prepared by Kayla Letson and it ended with a couple glasses of wine to accompany Liz's fantabulous meal for dinner. I can't help but to appreciate the contributions of those riders who were not able to make the ride this year... Billy Quinn driving us into the BX, Elizabeth making us dinner at Aunt Deb's house...and it makes me smile that this ridiculous adventure has become somewhat of a tradition that is difficult to let go of. But this is neither here nor there; let me tell you a little bit about today.

I have to warn you though...This is a little bit uncouth, if you will.

Today was a pretty flat ride. We rode on "rail trails" a good portion of the day and therefore did not have to deal with too many hills. The hills that we did deal with though caused my chain to fall off several times. The longer I continue to ride the more I realize what a piece of crap this Dasani bike that I am on is, and the more determined I become to finish the ride on it. My only concern is the squeaking sound it is perpetually making...It sounds like an old swing set, not a trustworthy bike. Despite the flatness of the terrain, my ride was slightly uncomfortable (and here comes the uncouth part..Meagan [and Mom] stop reading now, continue at the asterisk). For one thing, I think all of the unhealthy meals I've been eating (Please see yesterday's entry for some insight) finally caught up with me because I was dealing with some pretty ridiculous gas pains all day. And these weren't ordinary gas pain...These were some serious, "I didn't think I ate chili last night, but oh right I ate a deep fried twinkie for lunch" gas pains. I just couldn't shake them. I'm sure the grilled cheese with tomato and bacon, french fries and 3 pickles didn't help. But as John likes to say, "You gotta fuel the machine." Additionally, I'm also battling some awful chafing as well. I occasionally readjust my position on the bike but there's only so much I can do. I just gotta deal with the discomfort for the next few days.

*On a positive note, and to continue a tradition, we played "I'm going on a Picnic" twice today. Here's how they went (to the best of my (and Meagan's memory)

A: Apples/Antipasto Salad
B: Biscotti/Bubble Gum
C: Candy Corn/Cranberry Sauce
D: Dasani/Daffodils
E: Eclairs/Eggplant Rollatini
F: Fishcakes/Fig Newtons
G: Granola Bars/Garden Salad
H: Hash Browns from the Winsted Diner/Hairspray
I: Ice Cream/Iggy Pop
J: John's Lactaid Pills/Jameson
K: Kazoo/Kebobs
L: Lemonade-Iced Tea/LOUD NOISES
M: Mangos/Maker's Mark
N: Nostradamus/Nails
O: Ourang Outangs/Over the Counter Aleve
P: Penguins/Pints of Guiness
Q: Quartz (rocks)/Quistle (Crystal) a person...
R: Rice Krispie Treats/Roast Beef (from Nick's)
S: Schlitz Beer/Soy Roast Beef
T: Tequilla/Tullymore Dew
U: Umbrella/Uruguayan Sea Bass
V: Vinny/Volvo
W: Whale/Willy Wonka...and his Chocolate Factory
X: X-Ray Machine/Xihphoid Process
Y: Yankee's Blanket
Z: Zanni

And there you have it...Awesome right...Enjoy it! Two days left and I need to sleep...

So it goes...

Thank God for rail trails

2009-08-04T16:00:00.000-07:00

Today we were able to get a wonderful meal cooked by my sister Kayla. I would have to agree with her that the bacon crisper is a fantastic invention. John asked me later what kind of bacon it was so Kayla if you could post a comment and let us know that would be great. We got going on the Farmington Valley Greenway and we were rolling. We made a quick stop for John to get to get his biked serviced at the Bike shop then it was smooth sailing to the Mass border. Once we got there it was a different matter. In Suffield they were working on grading the dirt obviously preping to pave more and they said we could pass. Then we came across a crew paving on the mass side of the border. They didn't really take to kindly to us being on the asphalt that they had just put down a few hours earlier. Oops. Next came route 10. The only road portion of the day. It was ok with not to many bad hills (thank god). Then when we hit North Hampton we were able to get onto another rail trail that ran right through Amherst. It was a good way to end the day. Flat with a great view as we went over the bridge on the Connecticut river. Now we have gotten into Aunt Debs in Amherst and Lizzy is cooking up some food that smells wonderful. Till tomorrow. P.S. I was just looking through my bag and I believe I may have left my cell phone at my house. If you are trying to get in touch in a timely fashion, sorry but your out of luck. Email is tlets1@gmail.com

fried twinkies are healthy

2009-08-04T06:30:00.000-07:00

I woke up very well rested in my king-sized bed on the top floor of the hotel, met up with the boys for a lovely little continental breakfast in the lobby, packed up our things and checked out of the Wake Robin Inn. After taking inappropriate prom pictures in the front lawn and stretching in front of the other guests, we set out to make our way towards Tim's house.

Today turned out to be a glooorious day! Once again, the sun was shining, the hills weren't so scary, and we were all in a positive mood. And hey, big shout out to Timy for bringing his A-game today! With each day, he is really showing more and more determination and skill in handling the terrain. As John would say: Approach those hills, Attack those hills, Own those hills. (I'd say he has a bright future as lead spin class instructor in a beacon hill athletic club/boston sports club.)

We stopped at what seemed to be the smallest diner known to mankind, it was the size of a trolley car and only had a counter with stools in it. The bathroom was actually outside and in the basement. Also, it had the best customers ever! People were actually paying for other people's meals without telling them, and then complain about it. As for our group- our eyes were definitely bigger than our stomachs. John split some chocolate chip pancakes with me (yummm) and I learned that he collects coffee mugs. But not just any corree mug, the diner-style mugs with handles that only fit 1.5-2 fingers inside, depending on how big your hands are (...thats what she said?) More importantly, Corrao did finish his meal with a fried twinkie and a smile. Props to keeping it down the rest of the ride.

The second half of the day was tougher with all the extra internal weight we were carrying around, but we finished it in a timely fashion. We were getting very close to our destination, when when we realized that there were no more bars on the way to Timy's house. Hellooo- we needed to continued our drinking tradition! So we immediately turned around to get some margs and mo-ji-tos at the neighborhood mexican restaurant.. which we waited to open its doors for approximately 20 minutes. After some chips, salsa, salt and booze, we hopped on our bikes and made it to Timy's. We were greeted by his wonderful family, two dogs, and a cat. We got cleaned up, watched some music videos, blogged and passed out.

It was a great day filled with lots of good/unhealthy food and no major malfunctions.
Great job to all!

"Im not complaining. I'm sharing my emotions"

2009-08-03T17:58:00.000-07:00

Towards the end of today it was decided to continue the tradition of having a drink before we arrive at our destination. Roughly two miles from casa de Letson we passed a seedy looking Mexican Restaurant called Margaritas . It was decided to turn back and keep the tradition going. Unfortunately for us the place did not open up until 4:00 and we had twenty minutes until opening. So yes, we waited outside for it to open and went inside.
Since I can not drink Tequila, I ordered a Mojito and got some sass from the bartender about it. Bartender, "I dont know why we have to make these. They aren't even a Mexican drink, they are from Miami." Oh actually lady, they were invented in Cuba. The drink was solid and it got me feeling pretty relaxed. When it came time for us to leave I was in no mood to go. I was beat, and could easily have had another drink and called a cab, I was done. Leaving the lounge, I was vocal about my concerns about making it to Tim's. Meg told me not to complain, so my response was the title.

Leaving the Wake Robbin Inn this morning I was feeling anxious about the trip. My bike was not to cooperative, apparently it did not want to shift down to the first gear. This would make the hills of today a real piece of work. So my legs hated me, and felt like they were on fire for most of the day. Know what, I take that back. They were not on fire, they were being chewed on by a dragon or some other mythological beast. I cursed, sweat, coughed, yelled, and willed my way to the top of these things. The great thing about being the biggest one on the trip (weight not height or muscular big) is that my fat ass flies down those hills. It is awesome, sometimes I can coast down one hill and up another, and I am really happu.
There was one final hill to get to Timy's house after the bar. This one was not as steep or as long as the other hills of the day, but it wore me out. Climbing up it was the final straw for my legs, they just gave out. I think it was the mojito that got me up the hill.
We got lunch at this fabulous Diner in Winsted Ct. I was dared to order three pancakes with my chicken sandwich. I did split the pancakes, but ate a ridiculous amount of fries and home fries. I was starving when we arrived. By the time we left, I felt so full. Like if I was a Middle School student, I would get an eating disorder full. People asked me if I lost weight on the trip last year. My guess is that this year we will probably gain weight, Billy's hoping to just break even.

Speaking of Billy he is snoring on the couch next to me so I am going to attempt to mess with him.

For three years the Letsons have not only let us into their homes, but have taken care of us in every way possible. Laundry gets clean, bellies get full, and we feel welcome. Thanks so much.

Thanks Erik for the Melky update yesterday and the weather forecast today. Keep them coming man we appreciate them.

Brian thanks for giving us internet access at Marist. Top Drawer!

Aunt Deb's tomorrow, where Lizzie will be meeting up with us for the night.

Litchfield hills ... done

2009-08-03T17:39:00.000-07:00

We left the hotel this morning and started down route 44 and I gotta say I was a little bit worried because of the fact that this area was the know as the northwest hills and hills and I are not really on the best of terms. As we got going though it seemed that the road thankfully seemed to weave around the hills more than try to go over them. We thankfully started to get closer to Winsted and I began to recognize things that I was seeing. This was a huge boost for me. We stopped in Winsted to have lunch and it turned in to a veritable smörgåsbord. I think that the food coma that ensued helped me to keep up with the group better for the rest of the trip. Once we got into Canton I could see the end in sight. We were about to head off of route 44 when The idea was suggested that we should head to the bar for a drink. So we did. I am glad to be home for the night and to get a nice meal at Plan B. Tomorrow we head to Amherst and get to spend some time on some rail trails. Here's hoping that they work out well.

2009-08-03T17:34:00.000-07:00

Day 4... Today was a hilly day, the weather was nice and we didn't have any mechanical problems. So what could I possibly have to talk about? How's this:

I ate a deep fried twinkie... And it was delicious.

So it goes...

Riding the Rivalry: Flashback Addition... Day 2

2009-08-03T14:47:00.000-07:00

Day 2 was rather nondescript but I feel bad ignoring it altogether. The ride itself was very scenic, including some gorgeous climbs in a state park. Early on Meagan and I switched bikes, much to her dismay, disapproval and chagrin. The bike she was riding is a poorly assembled mountain bike. It was difficult to change gears, especially with limited riding experience. Meagan was a trooper through Day 1 buy I refused to let her go another day on her current bike. While it isn't impossible to shift gears it is difficult. However, 'm still climbing hills, Mea's kicking some ass now, and the general pace is pretty good... It has worked out for the best. (minus the mechanical difficulty I experienced day 3... Which didn't turn out all that bad.)

The only other incident of note is as follows:
Meagan and I were left to blog to our hearts' content at Marist because the boys were "getting antsy." After we finished we tackled the last big hill leading into Hyde Park and at the top Meagan made a not so friendly gesture towards a silhouette of a Mister Franklin Delano Roosevelt (she claims she didn't know it was him... Pshaw right!) Anyways... We rode on towards our hotel and who did pass on the street but Timy coming out of a bar. He didn't just finish drinking though, he was actually lost. It was at this point that we told Timy to stay where he was because Meaga and I were going to crossover to his side and now we WERE going to drink. The three of us did a celebratory Car Bomb (John was already at the hotel and had been looking for Timy so he did not have the energy to join us).

We eventually made it to the hotel, had a greasy dinner, a lousy night sleep and that was the end of that...

So it goes...

day 2 and 3... now stop yelling at me john.

2009-08-03T06:26:00.000-07:00

As per John, I'm not allowed to continue on this journey unless I make another blog entry. Therefore I decided to do a semi-brief recap on our Saturday and Sunday adventures. Between all four of us, you probably have a good idea of how things are going on this trip. Saturday turned out to be a much better day than Friday. We had glorious weather, sunshine lasted throughout our entire ride. We were faced with a TON of hills, but none were as intense as day 1 in my opinion (or maybe it was the fact that Billy suggested we switch bikes...and by suggested I mean forced.)

We traveled along the main roads until we eventually met up with a bike trail somewhere along route 9. About midway through the ride, we came to a 1/2 mile downhill slope which coincidentally ended at a hotdog vendor. If you also read johns blog, this is where the bet came into play. He ate two hotdogs, Corrao ate one, and I had... a bun. It was deee-lish. We continued on the bike route until we hit a Panera where I could actually eat something substantial. After we stuffed our faces with breadbowls and paninis... served by an all-time great DAN. Capitalized for emphasis because you can't just say his name, you have to shout it.

Paneras was followed by a little cat nap in the parking lot of Raymore and Flannagan...damn food comas. We saddled up and continued biking until we hit Marist. We hacked into their computers (thanks Brian, wherever you are) and made some blog entries. John and Timy went ahead because apparently I type slower than everyone else. We eventually met up with Timy for some unexpected Irish car bombs, but not before I took a picture flipping off FDR's billboard at the top of a ridiculous hill. Our night ended at a lovely hotel with greasy italian food.

I woke up the next morning to find Billy snoring, John sprawled out across his queen-sized bed alone, and Tim wrapped in a sheet on the floor. Apparently no one had a good night's sleep. We all met up at the coffeehouse for some continentals. We soon discovered that John had made friends with several 70-year-old ladies. They continued to talk about him long after he left and went back to the room.

After breakfast we went back to the room, packed and loaded up the bikes, had a stretch session, hopped on our bikes and took off. It rained for a chunk of the day, but all of our spirits remained high. It seemed like one thing after another was going wrong, but something would just come around to somehow make things right again. First was Billy's pedal falling off. We asked a carpenter for some tools to fix it, but he used to own the largest bike shop in Ohio or something so he not only had the parts to replace it, but also adjusted our seats and filled our tires with air. (and I'll point out that Billy insanely rode nearly 5 miles with one pedal until we found this guy... crazy tree trunk legs.)

Then Billy's gears stopped shifting midway up the largest hill we'd have to ride up. As Billy pretended he knew how to fix it on the side of the road, a gentleman stopped in his car alongside, told us he was a bike mechanic and continued to fix not just the gears, but the chain and handlebars as well.

The day went on in this manner until we reached our lunchtime spot. Lunch was probably my favorite time of this day. We attempted to stop for lunch at a restaurant in Pine Hills everyone loved on last year's trip but they were closed. Instead we somehow stumbled into a place called backyard garden where we quickly made friends with the locals, drank some beer, ate some food that we probably shouldn't have, and watched some of the yankee game. I felt like we were on vacation, and the boys pointed out that this was the first time they legitimately didn't want to leave and get back on the road.

Our day ended when we arrived at the Wake Robin Inn, where I think I fell in love. It's a quaint hotel that used to be a boarding school for girls. The decor was adoreable, and everywhere you looked, there was a piece of thier history. Plus, there was an Irish bar with burbon gallore, kingsized bed in my room (compared to the two twin beds for john and timy), a computer for more blogging, and unlimited bottles of water for guests. Our night ended with ordering more italian delivery for dinner.

As I reflect on this day, I am personally proud because it was the first day I was able to ride the entire way without walking up any hills. Sure my legs were on fire and my feet were numb... but my self-satisfaction level was high and that's what really counts here.

And now as we sit here watching country music videos, getting psyched up for today's journey, John just agreed that next year he will do this trip in a cow outfit. I'm holding him to it. It's time we get mooooving.

This route is bullshit

2009-08-02T19:20:00.001-07:00

Today we started off with some food to get things going. I had a package of Bogols that I got at Panera the previouse day and they were delicious. I have now decided that I will try to get something each day that will help with breakfast the next day. To that end I have a very delicious looking muffin waiting for tomorrow morning that I am pretty pumped about. Once we got start we made our way up to Rhinebeck and then started across towards the CT border. As you have no doubt read already shortly after leaving Rhinebeck Billy had a bit of bad luck. He was overtaking me when it happened so once we pulled over he asked me to go back to the mobil station we had just left. I went back only to be told that no they don't have anything like that about an adjustable wrench. I have a feeling that might have been BS. As you have also read by now Billy had some luck on the caliber of winning the lotto today so it turned out OK in the end. When we stopped heading in to pine plains we stopped at a pizza place to get water and regroup and were treated to their (not) fantastic service. We proceeded to head to town where the second place we were expecting to go for the day was closed due to the fact it was saturday. The first was the bike shop in Rhinebeck. Luckily we ended up in nice little bar, had some bears and got some advice from the locals. The title of this blog post was the exact quote from the nice man at the bar after he took a look at our route. We were able to enjoy one of the best downhills of the trip so far and made it to the hotel around 7:15 with some daylight to spare. We are now done with one state and we embark on the heart of the connecticut section tomorrow. Wish us luck because I am a little nervous about the litchfield hills, but then I think I have been a little nervous about every leg so far and we have done OK to date.

"Before I sit down, I must warn you. I'm a Red Sox fan."

2009-08-02T19:02:00.001-07:00

This morning at the Roosevelt Motel in Hyde Park I went to get breakfast before the group. The Cafe area was packed with the geriatric crowd that looked me over in my argyle socks and Yankee gear. When I grabbed a second bagel, I definitly got the stink eye from one or two of them. I sat down to enjoy my meal and soon enough an elderly woman sat is standing across the table from me and asks if she could join me. I said absolutly, and then she gave me the disclaimer that is the title. All because of what I was wearing. Later in the day as Timy and I struggled up a hill a Suburu pulled over and the driver said, "Hey the Yanks won today." Pretty awesome pick me up.
My bike has been holding out so far on the trip and I feel very lucky about that. At the same time I can not help but admire how well Billy is doing on this trip. I am not just talking about the physical aspect but dealing with the bike issues. It is remarkable, I tip my hat to him.
We attempted to stop in Pine Hills to eat at a place called The Mountain Cow. It was closed. Like just about everything else in the place. Apparntly nobody can eat on a Sunday in that place. We started to double back to check out a pizza place, and sure enough it was closed. As we stood in the parking lot trying to figure out what to do, some guy was smoking a cigarette looking at us. I thought, well why not just ask this guy? He said they serve food back there pointing towards a sign that said Backyard Garden. I assumed it was an actual garden or some sort of florist. Turns out it was..tada and outdoor bar. The place was filled with the types of characters you would hope in a bar on a Sunday in upstate New York.
One of these regulars was named Dan. Dan was about 350 and change wearing a cutoff shirt. He lived by the metal dump in town, and has taken several bikes from them to ride and "lose weight". Everytime that bike gets trashed (no pun intended) its back to the trash heap and a new bike. Dan was listening to the game on the radio and "predicting" what was going to happen to the Yanks as the game was on Yes with about a 3 second delay. Sal, Dan's friend and victim was very impressed with Dans ability and could not get over how Dan knew what pitch was coming. Oh, and Dan said that he was going to finish the Applachian trail by next May, he was going to walk 50 feet a day.
Dan offered some critical advice on the Route to help us out. He told us of "the downhills to end all downhills" was up ahead. He appreciated what we were doing and wished us luck. I love these types of encounters. It is all about doing things for the story.
We passed the hill that I past out on last year. We rode right past it. I wanted to take a picture on top but the opportunity did not present itself. We just kep going. I guess that is progress, we move on and do not look back.

The hostess of the Wake Robin Inn has been an absolute peach. She offered us a first free drink. I saw some really expensive Irish whiksey on that top shelf by some pricy scotch. It would have been like stealing from Mother Theresa, possible but you will get yours in the end. Billy and I opted for some Makers Mark and after those hills I feel great.

so cheers

"That probably would have defouled your nether-regions eventually..."

2009-08-02T17:59:00.000-07:00

Yup, that was said to me at some point today. That and, "Yeah, your seat would have broken and you probably would have ended up with something up your butt that didn't belong there."

How, or why were things of this nature said to me? I think it's important to mention that they were said in all seriousness but with my best interests at heart.

Here's how my day went today.

After a tiring but not exhausting ten mile ride into Rhinebeck, we made a last stop at a Mobil gas station on our way to Rock City and the infamous "Fork in the Road." The gas station was G-ross...and there were bugs galore (but I'm sure Meagan will tell you all about that). We left the gas station and expected an uneventful ride. We were way off. Approximately half a mile into the ride MY PEDAL FELL OFF!! For real...Read it again, I'm not lying, it means what it says. The mechanism used to propel the bike fell off. Meagan and John were a bit ahead and did not hear my girly scream, err, I mean my barbaric yawp. Fortunately, Timy was with me so I wasn't completely stranded. Timy rode back to the gas station to see if they had a wrench or pliers that I could use to try to refasten the pedal. Amazingly enough, the service station could not be of any service to me (there's the irony again). Our options were limited, so what did we do? Timy and I started riding...Yeah...I rode with one pedal, for a good 5 miles. We eventually made it to the fork and had no real plan of attack once we re-embarked, so I decided I would stop at any and all places of business and ask for tools to help me reattach my pedal. In the interim, I would simply ride with one pedal.

First stop, antique shop. The woman who worked there said she did indeed have both pliers and a wrench. After a short and futile search, an elderly man with no teeth appeared from thin air and informed her that he, if you can believe it, had taken both tools home. She proceeded to offer me a set of sheers..."No thanks."

Second stop, Ironfish Carpentry Shop. Jackpot! A man by the name of Erik said he had the tools necessary to fix my bike, welcomed me into his shop and then dropped this bomb on me. "I used to be the manager of the largest bike shop in D.C.. I think I have just what you need." While he didn't have what I needed at his shop, Erik went home, (leaving us, total strangers, alone in his shop with his awesomely great dog named Sara...We shared some beef jerky), found a pedal and some other tools and then fixed my bike. Afterwards, he went on to tell me that the bike I am riding is a piece of crap and could potentially cause me much pain (see the above quotes). I'm hoping to finish the ride on this P.O.S., but my chances are getting slimmer by the minute.

After my pedal was fixed, and my seat was lowered, and my tires were inflated, everything went pretty smoothly. Until my chain fell off my bike and my gears wouldn't shift going up Winschell Mountain Road. Again, Meagan and I were lagging behind Timy and John when this mechanical debacle befell me. Meg and I were in between huge uphills when I stopped to pretend I could fix my bike. As I was staring blankly at my gears a car pulled up and the following conversation ensued.

Driver: "Hey, everything alright?"
Me: "Ummm, yeah, I mean my gears aren't shifting, but I'm in the lowest one so I'll be able to get to the top."
Driver: "You want me to take a look at it?"
Me: (cuz I'm an idiot) "Nah, that's alright. I'll be ok. Thanks though."
Driver: "You sure? I'm a bike mechanic."
Me: (Dumbfounded) "Oh...In that case sure."

James went on to fix my bike up and off we went.

It was potentially a disastrous day that turned into the best day of the ride so far. EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON...Today was the best proof possible.

So it goes...

P.S. Keep the prayers coming mom!!

What Was I Thinking....

2009-08-01T14:50:00.000-07:00

Initially, I was planning on boycotting this blog. I thought it would be extremely repetitive and time consuming, and couldn't see how anyone would want to read it other than my mom and maybe jackie. But since I was bombarded with criticism on my second day of the ride, I gave in. So here we go...
The trip started out great. We ate breakfast at golden dolphin, my favorite diner of all time. It felt just like old times, rushing to scarf down fresh squeezed OJ and chocolate chip pancakes before camp started up. This was followed by a pit stop at my house to pick up my things and straight to st anthonys where we hijacked a minibus and traveled to the B.X. big ups to quinn for being an excellent driver and zoning out midway through conversations. We arrived safely, unloaded the bus, and began to assemble ourselves.
Just as we arrived at the new stadium to take our starting photo against the wall, the sky decided to give us a taste of what we could expect later that day. We made a few pitstops along the way- hardware store to adjust my bike, hudson river to re-energize and give directions to a stranger, gas station for some fresh water and the best looking bathroom i've ever seen... and about 10 minutes after stating what great weather we were having, the sky OPENED UP. Thunder in the background, puddles across the road, and raindrops so big I couldn't see anything in front of me. I was soaked, cold and nervous. As ridiculous as it was, I loved it.
We continued to trek along for several miles, stopping only to make sure we were all alive and relatively together, until we reached the diner for lunch. We first asked permission to sit and eat, considering we were completely soaked and each had pools in our sneakers. I, of course, had a veggie burger, while the boys ate manly meals of meat and fries.
About 15 minutes after leaving the diner, billy decided to get a flat. With the help of a roadside bike guide, all four of our efforts and a solid 20 minutes to change, he had a new tire. Keep in mind it was still pouring. And this is about where I "pulled the trigger" in someone's front lawn, of course with them watching. Needless to say, I won't be having any more v.b.'s on this trip.
The rest of the day went on with some pretty intense hills, a few stops to rest and re-fuel, and a lot of asking John "how much farther."
I'd say about 2.5 hours before we ended, I hit a wall. I physically couldn't make my legs pedal anymore. Each time we came to a hill (which was A LOT), I knew I would work my butt off to climb it and end up walking the top half. I couldn't believe how fast Mr Corrao and Mr Mullady got to the top. What, like they've done this before? Seriously props to you guys. If we were giving out awards to the two top riders of our group, I'd vote for you.
When we finally got to the Leightons' house for our first night, my legs were burning beyond belief. I couldn't even carry my panniers up the front steps (thanks John and Timy.) I immediately fell on the floor and didn't get up until dinner. The night ended with some homemade guac (which Billy and I housed, john got to lick the spatula), a glass of cabernet, and the most delicious pizza I've ever had. And that's about it. I passed out on the pull-out right after dinner while the boys ate brownies and icecream.
Day #2 has been MUCH better.... but I'll talk about that at another time...

"Of course it's hard, that's what makes it great..."

2009-08-01T14:42:00.000-07:00

The first thing I have to do in this blog is apologize to my fellow riders for my poor, poor attitude in the beginning (and maybe the middle, and a little towards the end) of day one. The day started great, but the ride did not. First, I left some vital tools in my trunk (I think), and could not raise Meagan's seat to its proper height [inner monologue of Corrao and MacMenamie parents reading this blog: "And I told this kid to watch out for her...She's in trouble."] Second, my tires were underinflated and we did not have a pump to fill them with and the CO2 gun refused to cooperate initially. Once we got on our way, things started to pick up a bit. I told the others that my only goal of the ride was to not walk any hills (That's for you Quinn). Well, whaddaya know, no sooner do I utter these words then that ornery b*tch irony reared her ugly head. Within minutes I have to walk up a hill because of a wrong turn and the laws of physics...So much for that! At this point, I am NOT a happy camper. It sounds ridiculous I know, but goals are goals. I'm not going to lie, I would have been content had I made it to, say, Day 4 or 5 and THEN I walked one, but DAY ONE! C'mon! So, that's it, right? Nothing else could go wrong, right? Wrong! I was the first victim of a flat tire and changing it was a frustrating process. Meagan's level head kept me from losing my cool (after she tossed her cookies {it wasn't an easy day for anyone}). We didn't arrive in Brewster until 9 pm, but don't worry readers, Brewster is exempt from the laws of nature and somehow the sun was still shining bright! We would never ride in the dark...That's just not safe.

Fortunately for the four of us, the Leightons were the epitome of hospitality and fed us, quenched our thirsts (we drank wine, sorry Bea!), and gave us a place to rest our weary bones. We woke up this morning, had our second satisfying meal provided for us and got on our way.

Leighton family, thank you for your assistane (and Krista, I'm sure John won't thank you, so I'll do it for him...Thanks for letting him use your Chocolate Mousse exfoliating cream. If you could let him know the brand he'd be eternally grateful). We would have been a disaster on the morning of Day 2 without all that you did for us!

That being said, Day 2 was GLORIOUS! It was sunny, less hilly (kind of), and just overall a better day. I've made a concerted effort to keep from getting frustrated about tiny occurrences, and I'm just trying to enjoy this remarkable albeit exhausting and crazy experience.

Finally, if you want to know what keeps us laughing 90% of the time on this trip (10% of our laughter is caused by sheer exhaustion), read the title to this entry and follow it with..."That's what she said." Yup...We're adults.

So it goes...

"Nice Socks"

2009-08-01T14:41:00.000-07:00

That was comment was directed at my by the server at Panera in Wappingers Falls. Apparently my pink argyle socks did not suit her fancy, but I digress.

Last night, it was brought up to me by the Leighton's that there is a NY bike trail. That route saved us a great amount of time and heartache. All the crazyness of Route 9 and roadkill for that matter was bypassed. It was like going down one of the green pipes Super Mario Brothers 3 and skipping the hard levels. Its not cheating, its ingenious. Not only were the Leightons amazing hosts, but also served as terrific navigators. Thank you both so much.
Exhausted, sweaty, and smelly, I collapsed on a recliner last night. The first text message I see was from my buddy dash former roomy Erik. The last thing that he mentioned was how the weather was supposed to be beautiful today, and that made me feel a great deal better.
While riding down Route 9, we stopped at that Panera (where a former Dutchess County Community College scholar took a cheap shot at me). Billy and Meg Mac asked if either Timer (pronounce Time Er) or I saw the moped gang earlier. I thought that it was one of Billy's highly convincing lies but Meg confirmed it. Billy said that I would have been "sexually satisfied" at the sight of this Vespa gang. Im not going to lie, I was a little bummed that I missed it.
Going down 9, I was able to gain some momentum (momentum, moproblems) and passed the group. Going down a hill at a pretty fast clip I saw on the right hand side of the road, a red and white polka dotted person on a scooter. I got so pumped, this was definitely the Vespa gang. I first thought, "wait Billy didn't mention that they were clowns." I saw that the clown was waving, so I assumed that this person was trying to wave in customers to shops.
Turns out it was not a clown, just an elderly large woman, sitting on a rascal. She kept waving to cars and then saw me and gave me a wave. She was parked right at the exit of a shopping center on Route 9. I waved back. I was about to pass her when she shouted. "please help im stuck." I slammed on the brakes and stopped just short of her, and yeah sure enough her back wheels were stuck in the road. She told me that she was trying to get home, not knowing where home was I got in front of the scooter and tried to push her as she put her ride in reverse. She panicked, and told me to push her from behind. My fear was that if I pushed her from the back of the scooter and she is gunning the engine on that thing, shes going into two lanes of traffic and Im charged with involuntarily manslaughter
Tried from behind, and had to get my hands underneath the damn scooter, and the right tire ran over my fingers. She got out, and did a 360, either in celebration or she was testing out the shocks or something. The first words out of her mouth were "oh God Bless you." Quickly followed by, "can I buy you Planet Wings?" I thought about it, but I already had eaten Panera and two hotdogs (on a dare) earlier. She asked me for my name, I told her John. She sighed, grabbed her rather large bosom and said, "John's are always saving me." I stood there and said, well Im on a bike, so I gotta ride to Hyde Park." With that, we parted ways.

So, as I sit here in Donelly lab staring at the computer where I did my Capping project, I'm feeling good about myself. screw that Panera broad.

Momentum or die trying

2009-08-01T14:38:00.000-07:00

First I feel I should make some comments about yesterday since I was so damn tired when it came time to blog that I just passed out. I knew we were in for a long day when I started to get to the point where I was stopping half way up some of the bigger hills and walking my bike. For those of you who know me well enough to know the little baby tomato story you may skip a few sentences. For everyone else prepare to be regaled by on of my bad jokes. There a mommy tomato, a daddy tomato and a little baby tomato walking down the street. The baby tomato is laggin behind and laggin behind so finally the daddy tomato goes back and beats the baby tomato to a pulp and says, "hey catch up". Yesterday I felt like the baby tomato only without the beating part and the daddy tomato getting pissed off. We finally got to the house and the hurting stopped for now.
So enter this morning. Most people would think that the thing that would hurt the most after nearly fifty mile in one day would be the legs and at least in my case those people would be wrong. Surprisingly my shoulders were one of the worst parts. We got prepped and we were on our way. I did have the opportunity today to take Katrina's advice and put ice in my water. It didn't last all that long but it was good while it lasted. Yesterday I told John that my favorite road so far was rt 100 in New York because it had been pretty good as far as hills were concerned. It proceeded to throw up hills with a vengeance. Then today we were on rt 301 which had some amazing views of some reservoirs and some was pretty good for hills. I then made the mistake of telling John that my new favorite was 301. Yeah it happened again. I have now sworn off of saying that I like roads till we are off them never to go back. After that we hit the rt 9 bike trail which was pretty good and we got panera for lunch. Due to circumstances it makes the top 10 best meals. Now we are blogging four at a time in the Donnelly hall computer lab and will be leaving shortly to head to our destination for the night in Hyde Park. So remember keep it classy San Diego. P.S. Thank you very much to the Leighton's for their amazing hospitality.

"There is no way we missed it....wait, what are we looking for again?"

2009-08-01T04:47:00.000-07:00

Corrao had a brilliant idea on the way back from Boston. "What if we had someone drop us off at Yankee Stadium in one of the Saint Anthony's buses." That would have been way more convenient then having to take the train into the city then getting on the subway. Quinn came through big time.
Last year, Alex, Liz, and myself got up late and missed the train to the city. We were rushed and did not get a solid meal before we headed out. This year, we got breakfast at the Golden Dolphin before our little odyssey with some friends. Jim, Molly, and Darryl, thanks so much for having a meal with us before we left.
Then For the first time, I had the map, and I was responsible for getting us to our destination. (Bea, I do not know how you did it, I was a wreck.) This is the third year, heading up to Boston and we found a new route to use. It took us much longer getting out of the Bronx and Yonkers. I don't think it was the physical toll of the trip (at that point) but more of the traffic and congestion in those areas. The weather was not to cooperate either. We stopped at a Hardware store in the Bronx so that we can adjust Meagan's seat so her knees would not hit her in the face.
Some traditions continued, i.e. getting flat tires. Billy was the first victim. He and Meg changed it in the rain like pros. WE ate at the Landmark Diner in Ossingsing again. This time I did not feel like I had to throw up after my turkey wrap.
Like everything else this was a learning experience. We left a little too late yesterday and by the time we got to our destination it had just gotten dark. Riding in the dark is as fun as it sounds. I was getting nervous about it, but we were very close to our final destination. (Don't tell Jean)
Our hosts for night one are the Leightons. They made an amazing dinner last night, homemade pizza. There was guac, but Billy and Meg ate it all.

Mrs. Leighton just but breakfast down, so I am out.

Just a bus driver...

2009-07-31T09:59:00.000-07:00

Those of you who are reading this know that today was the start of the 2nd annual (well 3rd for john) bike ride up to Boston. I did last years ride, this year i have decided to sit it out and be an avid blog reader like the rest of you. I did however have the daunting task of driving this years brave crew into yankee stadium in a mini bus so that they did not have to take the train in. I was glad to be able to bring something to the table to support the team, even though i wont be there in spirit riding with them.

I just want to wish the group a lot of luck this year. I look forward to reading the blogs ever day and hearing what adventures they are going through. One quick piece of advice from someone who has done it before:

The last day totally makes the whole trip worth it.

Good luck, stay strong, and lean on each other when things get rough.

David Ortiz Tests Positive for Steroids

2009-07-30T20:47:00.000-07:00

While I was sitting in my professional development class this morning I thought that I would give into my borderline ADD and peruse the internet and see what else was going on in the world. So, like a good New Englander I went to Boston.com and in a large banner read: "Ortiz Tested Positive for Steroids in 2003" The article simply read more details to follow. I sat there feeling stunned but also vindicated. Slowly a grin crept across my face as I passed my laptop over to my colleagues who are all big Sox fans and relished in their disappointed and upset expressions.
I guess I should explain my vindication feelings. Like most Yankee fans, for me David Ortiz is synonymous with agida. However, I could never truly say I hated the guy. Schilling you could hate, he was pompous and was basically white trash with money. Manny you could hate, the guy seemed like a prick, and Pedro...well after flinging Zim on the ground, you get the point. Ortiz was different, he wasn't really cocky or arrogant, he just leaned over the plate and killed the Yankees. Anyway, what aggravated me about Ortiz was how in 2002 he was dropped by the Twins, which is liked being dumped by the ugliest chick in your grade, if that happens turn in your externals young man, you will not be needing them. The Sox pick him up in 2003, he has a "break through" year and suddenly John Henry, Theo, and Larry Lu are like the Father, Son and Holy Ghost of baseball. They knew of Ortiz's potential, and how he had the makings of a great hitter. It was all the praise of the Sox front office which really irked me.
My buddy Jim from Camp, came up to Boston and he got tickets to the Sox game, Lizzie and Scottie came as well. The conversation of Ortiz and his slump came up, and I said to Liz that well yeah he is off the juice, no wonder hes in a slump. That got her Irish up and she began to defend Papi. "Jesus Christ Liz, look how much hes slimmed down, the uniform is baggy on him. Hes almost batting his weight." (no folks I am no baseball prophet, just an observant wise ass). I made Jimbo look up his baseball stats to help win my argument:

2002 Minnesota 20 HRS 75 RBIS .272 BA .500 Slugging

2003 Boston 32 HRS 101 RBIS .288 BA .592 Slugging

2004 Boston 41 HRS 139 RBIS .301 BA .603 Slugging

Now, even though I presented cold hard facts to Liz she did not buy my argument like a faithful fan, she ignored it. Like a good drunk, Scottie argued that I was wrong and that he just came into his own.

With Manny's name on the list as well, it made we wonder about the 2004 playoffs. Wait, Ortiz tested positive in 2003 not 2004...oh don't give me that B.S. If it worked so well for him in '03, is he going to just say, "Yeah, that was fun but lets get back to hard work. Homeruns are not fun." Folks, if Claritin is working for you, are you going to stop using it and go back runny noses and water eyes. Not unless your a glutton for punishment.

"But the Yanks had roid users on their team in 2004 too" Yeah, well my needle pushers sucked in the playoffs. I argue that the impact Ortiz and Manny had for the Sox easily outweighs the impact Giambi, Rodriguez, or Sheffield had for the Yanks. If that was untrue, Fever Pitch would have had a much different ending.

I walk away with two truths from this whole experience:

1. the A-Roid shirts might not sell so well in Kenmore Square

2. How do you break and 86 year old Curse? You Cheat.

"God is great, beer is good and people are crazy"

2009-07-30T20:33:00.000-07:00

Truer words have never been spoken...

Here I am on the eve of another ride from New York to Boston and this is the song stuck in my head, but it's good. I mean, think about it.

God is great. True.
As evidenced last year, I know God will be looking down upon us on our ride to keep us safe. Things will be difficult, but everything does (and will) happen for a reason.

Beer is good. True.
No drinking is done on the ride, so the finale is our motivation. That first sip of beer when we reach Fenway Park will be that much more rewarding because we'll have been a week without it (that's a long time for some of us!).

People are crazy. Unequivocally True.
Check the second sentence of this blog. "Here I am on the eve of ANOTHER ride from New York to Boston..." What is wrong with me? I don't think anything is seriously wrong with me, despite what my parents may believe. I think that as Billy Currington says, we're all just a little bit crazy. I know that this ride is possible because I did it last year, but I also know that it will be a test of fortitude regardless. You only live once, so I think it's important that we constantly challenge ourselves.

Kurt Vonnegut once said, “I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can't see from the center.” That's what we're trying to do here...So it goes...

Its official Bitches

2009-07-30T19:50:00.000-07:00

I have officially arrived at the inevitable point. The what the heck was I thinking point. I am sitting here in John's house looking at my fully loaded bike realizing that somehow tomorrow I will have to ride just shy of 50 miles to get to our first waylay point. Unfortunately I am not the only one that has had doubts about my ability to finish this ride. The first thing my older brother said was, "so is there going to be a chase car or something?" to which I confidently replied, "no, Mike, its like going to the moon. Failure is not an option." What I was thinking in my head was "that's what I will have a cell phone for." But I knew that I could count on support from my mom. Then the Monday before the ride I was just going to work on some other things rather than heading out for a ride. The look that came back from my mom was pretty much a "you need to get your ass out that door and at least do some time on the bike to make me feel better about the fact that you are not a biker and you are expecting to go all day every day for a week." I did yield and go for a short ride. I'm not a total jackass. Well John still seems to have a bunch of stuff yet to be done so I will sign off and see how I can help. Stay tuned for the further adventures of the ride. Hopefully hilarity and not misery will ensue.

Riding the Rivalry Redux

2009-07-29T17:34:00.000-07:00

*One year older, but definitely not another year wiser.

I do not know when it occurred to me to do the Ride again. I kind of assumed that it was going to happen, I just did not know when it was going to happen. So in true John Mullady fashion, the date of the ride and members of the ride changed a few times before the final numbers were set.
So here I am, the night before I head down to New York to start the Ride and finding myself being more nervous then last year. This year Alex, Quinn, and Lizzie will not be traveling with us. I know that if they could, they would all be in their shammies again, however life happens.
I was asked if this would be a charity ride, and I responded with, "yeah..kind of." So here is a longer answer to a short question:
I had hoped (and still do) that this ride would grow in popularity each time that it was done. The more people doing the ride the more money that we could have raised for two amazing charities. Maybe it was vanity or just naivety but I think that this ride has potential to be a great fundraiser. However, I failed to do any sort of fund raising this year. With so many people being laid off, I felt uncomfortable with the thought of asking friends or family for a handout. The reactions of shop owners who have been losing business as I ask them to give some of their earnings for a charity that they never heard of deterred me as well. I am frustrated with myself with failing to raise money, but at the same time I believe that there will be another ride and another opportunity next year.

Riding the Rivalry: Yankee Stadium to Fenway Park
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