The Raiders Research Project

For those of you who are not regular followers of my blogging history and Oakland Raiders fetish, you may not know about my other blog, the Raiders Research Project.

Receiver Darrius Heyward-Bey is one of the candidates for the 2009 "AFR" First-Year Star award, as covered by S&B Report and the Raiders Research Project.

The Project is something I started doing a few years back, a mix of my own obsessive-compulsiveness, love of all things sports-statistic, and the Raiders' notorious lack of disclosure, even to the media and fans.

The Project as a whole is updated yearly, give or take, as most of the various sub-Projects are things like the team's coaching staff, or starting lineup. Of course, with the Raiders having celebrated their 50th anniversary in 2009, that's a lot of information to wade through. Particularly when faced with the NFL's skinniest media guide as a primary source of history.

Nonetheless, although my work for Raiderfans.net and S&B Report has been extremely limited over the past year (due to Baby Bear and the rest of what cramped this blog, too, among many things), I am not abandoning it entirely.

Thus, I am wading into the yearly update of the Raiders Research Project, which is hosted by S&B Report, and the belated poll for my annual "First-Year Star" award.

Raider fans, enjoy!

Random Raider coincidence of the day

I posted this over at Raiderfans.net, but perhaps you'll find it interesting, too. It's celebrity and all that.

Beat writer Jerry McDonald reports a quarterback named Danny Southwick is on a tryout basis at the Raiders' current minicamp.

Just a camp arm, no doubt, a 27-year-old former AF2 quarterback who wound up at Occidental in 2007, his fourth or fifth college.

So, a few years back, the Raiders had around a camp arm named Bret Engemann, out of BYU? He was around in '03-05 in camp and on the PS, plus a couple of assignments to NFL Europe.

So here's the random coincidence.

Danny Southwick is the son of a woman named Shawn Southwick, who is talk-show host Larry King's latest wife. (Number seven, if you're counting; married since 1997 - he is now 75, she 49).

Her maiden name is Engemann, and she is Bret's sister.

So apparently, the Raiders' tradition of favoring NFL(ish) bloodlines extends even to fifth-string quarterbacks!

(Bret Engemann, now 31, is retired from football and a marketing executive, if you're curious.)

Maybe, as keeper of the S&B Report roster (formerly the unofficial Raiderfans.net roster), I'm the only one who finds this interesting.



Or maybe not.

Bend it like Beckham? Blow a knee out like B-who?

I've signed up to play soccer for the Lenape Valley Soccer Club's adult spring season.

I'm both excited and scared out of my mind.

Scared out of my mind because I get winded just climbing the stairs (four flights!) to my job these days.

Excited because I dedicated nine years of my life to soccer, but haven't played in years. My two minutes of high school varsity time are probably the highlight of my organized athletic career.

I would've made varsity my senior year for sure, but as I like to say, soccer is the sport I love so much I gave it both my knees and just a tiny bit of my spleen.

I always like to say after my last AYSO game in 1991 (warm up for the Fall 1992 high school season), my teammates carried me off the field.

And then I drove straight to the emergency room. That was blowing out the "good" knee.

I did play intramurals in college (on a short field) and I got in an indoor session a couple of years back with the LVSC. (Where I pulled two muscles and watched another guy break an ankle.)

So even if I'm worried about either a) humiliating myself, even if it's a league for over-30 men; or b) dying right there on the field of a heart attack, stroke or other misfortune... I'm still pretty stoked.

I bought all my gear the other day (yeah, I haven't played in so long I had to buy everything from cleats to shinguards; I'm going to show up with a price tag on me somewhere, I'm sure of it)... and then our first game got rained out Monday.

There's another game next Monday, though, so wish me luck! And safety!

Maggie's last spin

Sadly, this is the last season Maggie the Monkey is making her hockey playoff predictions!

Maggie, who is retiring after this 2008-09 postseason, is probably about as accurate as TSN's other "experts," and quite a bit cuter.

One can only hope Maggie enjoys the rest of her days at the Bowmanville Zoo, and TSN finds an equally entertaining replacement.

Munkee!

A strange "sad day"

Three famous people died today, in fairly rapid succession.


Harry Kalas, the voice of the Philadelphia Phillies and NFL Films (post-John Facenda), died in the press box before a game today at age 73.


Mark "The Bird" Fidrych, the eccentric 1976 American League Rookie of the Year, died on his farm in an apparent accident at 54.


And... Marilyn Chambers, the 1970s-era porn star, died in California at 56.

An odd combination, in terms of cultural trivia. Like the late Bob Clark's directing credits.

Condolences to their loved ones, of course.

Random bit of trivia: When my father was in college, he worked for a television station, and the arch-rival station's anchor was... John Facenda.

Back in the U-S-of-A

On a snow day, some ice hockey news:

Kevin over at the CHL Forums e-mailed me today and told me Matt Zultek has returned to the United States.

Zultek, my favorite minor-league hockey player, has signed with the team Kevin roots for, the Rapid City Rush of the Central Hockey League.

Typical of the fickleness of European pro hockey, a scant half a season after leading the Austrian Nationalliga in goals and leading EC Trend Dornbirn to the championship, Zultek was released a couple of weeks ago.

It doesn't take a former 1st-round draft pick long to find a place to play, though, in the world of independent minor hockey, and let's hope our journeyman power forward can do some nice things now that he's back in the land of the free and the home of a team that won't fire its coach and dump its leading scorer quite so quickly.

Zultek fans: Go visit Kevin's boards! Thanks for the tip!

Awesome Army

I'm watching the Army-Navy game and something caught my eye.

USC-UCLA's uniform decisions may have gotten all the hype recently, but I have to say I love, love, love the camouflage uniforms Army is wearing.

So, the excellent UniWatch blog may have panned them, but I think they're great.

Camo helmets and pants, and the backs of the jerseys don't have player names, they say "Duty, Honor, Country," which truly sums up the expression that you don't play for the name on the back of the jersey, but the name on the front.

The uniforms also feature a service branch patch on the chest and Army slogans on the pants. The Nike "Enforcer" uniforms debuted in the game. (Navy's team is also wearing special uniforms.)

Not that the Black Knights' regular uniforms (above) are bad, with their traditional black-and-gold design.

Anyway, as you might guess, I'm rooting for Army, though they tend to be the worst of the Academy football teams. My father was in the Army Reserve during his brief military service, so I've always been partial to Army when it comes to service rivalries, though I have a soft spot for the old Air Force wishbone offense.

Plus, of course, my Civil War studies tend to focus on things like West Point graduates, so I've read a lot about their traditions.

And I have to say, no matter the outcome of the game (Army is losing as I type this), I am very impressed with the message Army is sending.

And, of course, I remain proud of all the men and women serving — or on the verge of serving — our country.

Lucky charm?

Last night, my best buddy Dave's Philadelphia Phillies won the World Series.


Earlier this year, my second-best buddy Ed's New York Giants won the Super Bowl.

Not since I won money in three straight office pools have I been on a streak like this (at least by proxy).

(For the record, it was the World Cup pool and the March Madness pool - OK, so the third one was for finishing last at fantasy football... I still won my money back!)

Who's next?

Well, my buddy Stewie's Redskins are 6-2...


But Phil's Oilers are looking like a longshot for the Stanley Cup.

Goodbye, Yankee Stadium

Tonight is the final game at Yankee Stadium and I'm watching the pregame ceremonies right now.

It's sad to see the Stadium go. I was lucky enough to see a game earlier this season, part of a recent tradition that has seen my father and I go to a game at the Stadium every year for the past several years.

Baseball truly is a game that unites fathers and sons, and it was one of the first things my father and I could talk about. My father grew up in the Bronx and the Yankees were his team. He went to World Series games as a boy, and he remembers being at Babe Ruth Day and other great occasions.

My first game at the Stadium was in 1983, and the Yankees were routed by the Toronto Blue Jays. Still, what a wonderful experience, one that continued through a great tour of the inside of the Stadium last year, and the game I attended in April with my father and some friends.

I've had good seats and bad, seen Monument Park, seen Japanese fans cheering on "Godzilla," Hideki Matsui, and seen the late Cory Lidle start his last game for the Yankees.

One of the last games we were there, there was a fight in the stands nearby, including thrown beers and punches, and my father remarked that in all the years he'd come to the Stadium, it would be the first time he went home smelling like beer.

Even when not at the Stadium, I have great memories of the Yankees. Watching the Martinez and Jeter home runs off "Byung-Hung Slider" Kim in the World Series after 9/11. Saw that one in a bar.

Saw Aaron Boone's home run off Tim Wakefield in a different bar. Then helped a fellow find the wedding ring that had flown off when he thrust his arms skyward.

My first game at the Stadium, now so long ago that Don Mattingly - a Hall of Fame candidate at first base - played left field as a rookie.

I remember watching, holding my breath, at my first full-time job, as the Yankees won the 1996 World Series for their first world championship since 1978.

But mostly, when I think of the Stadium, I think of my Dad, and the stories he's told, and the games we've shared, together and with my Mom and friends.

I'll be sure and get to the new Stadium next year if I can.

But somehow, although I suspect it will be wonderful, somehow, I wonder if it won't be the same.

Yankee Stadium, on the surface, is old, crowded, behind the times in terms of stadiums. But it has something so many wonderful new ballparks - in Milwaukee, Pittsburgh, Seattle - don't have...

A palpable sense of history, so thick you can practically see it.

There's something magic about Yankee Stadium. There always will be, in my mind, even long after it's gone.

Bend it like bachelors...

I can die complete. I have seen Beckham play.

Yes, for my bachelor party, my best man and best friend took the lot of us to see the Red Bull N.Y. vs. L.A. Galaxy game up in the Meadowlands.

Terrific game, even if the Red Bulls choked at the end - one fan near us was so disgusted, he ripped off his jersey and flung it over the railing into the lower deck.

Donovan scored the game-tying goal in the 92nd minute/stoppage time, then rang one off the post in the 93rd and final minute.

Beckham bent a free kick in the first half that a member of the wall actually headed away.

Rojas, who signed Thursday, racked up two assists and whiffed on an open net on Saturday.

I heartily recommend MLS to any soccer fan and really, any sports fan looking for a good time.

We had a big ol' meat lunch, tailgated a bit - Cap'n'Coke and hot sun do not mix - took in the game, then tailgated some more. Then a bit of evening-type entertainment, and voila, my single, hedonistic days are at an end. We'll skip the gory details. Suffice it to say no one left unhappy or unentertained.

Ten days, 13.5 hours to the wedding.

More posts, as promised, to come.

Funny how real life intrudes...

I should be fairly delighted right now with hockey.

My latest Strat-O-Matic season in the Jack Adams Memorial Hockey League has faced off, which is always a thrill - you want proof I love it, I'll e-mail you the first annual East Coast Earthquakes media guide, all 3MB of it.

And this is my year - I've mortgaged two seasons' worth of the future in draft picks with a vow to make the playoffs this year (after two years out of the money) or bust.

The Philadelphia Flyers and Pittsburgh Penguins, my two favorite hockey teams, made the conference finals, with the Pens going to the Stanley Cup finals (where they lost, but still...). You'd think that would psyche me up big-time.

But somehow, there's a shadow over my season.

For one thing, my buddy Philbert had to resign his post as coach of my division rivals, due to a new job and stuff.

That's bad enough, but we'll still keep in touch. In fact, the Earthquakes have already made him a job offer as associate head coach.

The weird thing is, what's really thrown me, is something that happened far away, to someone I don't know, who doesn't even play for my team.

A couple of weeks ago, Vancouver Canucks rookie Luc Bourdon, the team's first-round draft pick in 2005, got himself killed riding his motorcycle.

He was 21.

Why has this affected me so? Besides the obvious tragedy, of course; the odds are pretty good that a professional athlete dies every year. Very few have really bothered me, in the way this has. Maybe when Stacey Toran, the Los Angeles Raiders safety, died - he was the first player on my favorite team to die so young and tragically, that I was aware of. Since then, of course, I've been aware of many more.

But I guess here's what gets to the bottom of it: In my old league, the Federal Hockey League, I was the Vancouver Canucks team.

I resigned at the end of last year because, quite honestly, I couldn't keep up with two leagues, so I stayed with the Jack, where I'd been a member longer.

But for two years, I ran the tie-in Canucks team, and one of the fun parts was that you get a "territorial" pick, to choose the best rookie from your team before the draft.

Needless to say, I did a lot of scouting, particularly since in the Fed, you could draft "uncarded" players, anyone who'd played even a single NHL game. (In the Jack, you have to draft "carded" players, who have received a full card in the game.)

And, of course, one of those prospects for this season - remember, it's a simulation game, we're always a year behind reality - was, of course, Luc Bourdon, who made his debut in 2006-07, before playing his first full pro season in 2007-08.

In fact, in the draft I never got to run in the Fed, I was - as the coach of a distinctly lousy team; I never said I was good at this game, just that I love it - debating how to wind up with a trio of Canucks rookies of '06-07: Alex Edler, Patrick Coloumbe and Bourdon. If I territorialed the best of the three (Edler), I'd have to take the best prospect (Bourdon) with a "regular" pick and take a chance he'd still be there.

It was a tactic that worked well the last season, when I'd territorialed the guy who was the most immediate help (Alex Burrows) and drafted the guy I really wanted (Kevin Bieksa).

Meanwhile, in the Jack, where my team has a distinctly Vancouver flavor - I was on something of a quest to have similar teams, full of players I liked, in both leagues - I was figuring on Bourdon as a mid-round pick next year, because he didn't have much of a rookie season.

Remember when I said I'd traded away most of my future to make the playoffs this year? Well, that meant the mental debate whether or not Bourdon would be around when I got to pick in the third or fourth round, having traded my top two picks.

In essence, I'd been scouting this kid for two years, strategizing around how to draft him in two different leagues. Thinking of all the potential he had as a player.

It wasn't so much that he was by all accounts a leader and a great guy, it was that he seemed like such a great prospect all around, but one who was struggling to break into the NHL and therefore, someone to draft and follow, "groom" as it were, for a bigger role.

I love hockey. I love playing Strat because in its own way, it gives me my own team to obsess over. And I love the draft, and all the scouting and intrigue that comes with it.

I love following young players and watching them bloom.

But that's not really what's got me down. What's got me down is that this kid, so full of life, won't get the chance to bloom. At hockey, at anything.

I'm 33 years old, two months from getting married. I've got a lot on my mind.

But somehow, this kid, this great, beloved kid who I never knew, he's on my mind, too. It's hard to explain why, and it's hard to explain why without sounding selfish or silly ("waah, my fake team won't get to draft him"). But I guess it's a combination of three things: a) A fan's love of sport always gives him a kinship with the players he watches; b) He was just a kid, and had everything ahead of him...

And c) I guess, like anyone else in my position, I spend a lot of time thinking about the future, trying to imagine the joys ahead, and trying not to think of what disaster's around the corner.

Whatever it is, this tragedy has thrown me for a loop this season. My heart goes out to his friends, family and teammates.

Rest in peace, Luc. I just keep thinking I might draft you anyway. Like, if I do, I'll wake up and it was all a dream, and you'll still be that top prospect, taking the ice next fall, and none of this ever happened.

I wish I knew why I feel this way. But not as much as I wish you'd made that curve OK.

Luc Bourdon,
1987-2008

Hockey monkey!

Click on over to TSN.ca and you can see video of Maggie the Monkey making her first-round Stanley Cup playoffs picks.

Maggie's about as accurate as TSN's experts, so I'm quite pleased she picked both the Flyers and the Penguins.

So that's why they call them the "Astros"

Couldn't Houston have just called this a "lower-body injury"?

Kazuo Matsui could miss the first two weeks of the season while he recovers from a surgical procedure to repair an anal fissure. The second baseman was officially placed on the disabled list Tuesday, retroactive to March 21.

(The bold emphasis is mine.)

I always associate the term with this early Internet saga, but it's actually a real medical condition. And a painful-sounding one, at that.

Get well soon, Kaz. For all our sakes'.

Die, you pond scum!

That would be a quote from "Dave,"one of my favorite comedies.



Tonight, let's apply it to the New England Patriots, whose undefeated season went bye-bye on the grandest stage of all:

Super Bowl XLII

So, go skip, Tom Brady, you smirking jerk!

Go jump in a lake, Randy Moss, you egocentric dog!

And hey, congratulations, New York Giants, including a couple of my favorite ex-Raiders, Kevin Boothe and Dave Tollefson, and all my Giants-fans friends.

It was nice to get home from our anniversary dinner in time to see one of the greatest upsets ever and one of the greatest Super Bowls ever.

Even if I suspect Marisa preferred watching "Puppy Bowl IV."

By the way, this is how I wrapped up my Super Bowl story in the paper:

Sure, it's an ugly matchup if you let the computer call it, but when real people are involved, the PS3 says the Giants have a prayer. Let's just hope Eli Manning makes better reads than a nearsighted ex-Division 3 intramural quarterback.

And there, in the Red Zone in the final minute, was Eli Manning, throwing the game-winning touchdown. Finding the open man I couldn't in my "Madden" sim.

The best thing on TV!

First off, let me just say that anyone who doubts Al Gore is an idiot.

Last week, the first week of January, it was 17 degrees - the radio said with wind chill it was... 1. One freakin' degree.

Today (well, yesterday), the 7th of January, my car thermometer read... 64.

Yeah. The 7th of January, I'm driving to work with the sunroof open.

Anyway, I'm digressing from my main point, which is... thanks to the writers strike, there's an awful lot of random, short-term reality TV out there.

Which brings me to the greatest thing on television these days.

That's right.

They brought back "American Gladiators".

Not these guys, who were cheesy enough.

No, this time they've pulled out all the so-bad-it's-good stops, from trash-talking contestants to over-muscled freaks.

Let me put it this way: In 2007, I went to Wisconsin. I went to Vermont.

And nowhere did I see cheese like last night!

Best moments of the pilot, complete with spoilers:
• The first contestant blew out her knee on the first event!
• The one guy was like 5'5" and 150, he took on a Gladiator in "Joust" who was about 6'6" and 280". And won!
• The last contestant went head-first into a metal bar - oh, yes, there will be blood!
• And of course, the contestant with about a 40-second lead in a 3-minute event who couldn't get up the reverse-treadmill (not that I blame her) and wound up just sort of hanging there by her fingertips as the slower, exhausted opponent limped past her.

This stuff is sooooooooooooooo... great, there aren't enough "o"s to put in that "so."

And of course, they've brought back Assault!



By the way, did you know first-season champion Brian Hutson once went to training camp with the Raiders and actually got into a couple of games for the Patriots?

His opponent in the finals? Former "Lost Boy" Billy Wirth.

Yeah, and version 2.0 is even weirder.

Dream a little dream

A slightly belated Merry Christmas, if that's your thing!

Maybe you remember a few days ago, I mentioned the vivid dreams I have sometimes. Well, last night/this morning, I think I had a first: I dreamed about blogging.

Well, actually, I dreamed about dreaming, then writing a blog about the dream.

Unfortunately for all of us, I suspect my dream-blog was much better and more interesting than this post. I'll try to re-create in shortened form, but in many ways, it was an experience not just surreal and bittersweet, but ideal in the sense of finding links and information, and so forth.

THE DREAM WITHIN THE DREAM

The dream itself was, as I said, bittersweet. It mostly took place during the pregame wait for some kind of youth soccer game, and involved two of my best friends and regular soccer teammates from childhood, Turbo and Chris. We were like the Three Musketeers (read the link, I don't mean the candy bar) in elementary school, but over the years, drifted apart in many ways.

One of the nice aspects of the dream was that some of it centered on the coaching of Chris' father, Craig, who was a perpetual assistant coach on teams we played for, and in many ways one of the finest and most honorable men I've known.

Aside, I know the dream was realistic because, as usual, even though Chris - who I think might have played in college - and Turbo were starters and stars, I was a backup. At least I was slated for my usual half-game of playing time. Maybe it was an AYSO game.

Anyway, we never actually played the game. The whole dream was just a bunch of kids pal-ing around and getting psyched up to play. It was a different time in my life (as anybody who's seen me play any sports lately can attest). And even though my life is certainly a good one now, I suppose in some ways, this dream made me miss the way it was. Innocent. No pressures, except to play my best, play the game the right way for Chris' dad. No remorse, no regrets and the whole future ahead of me.

THE BLOG WITHIN THE DREAM

My blog post in the second part of the dream was something like an extended version of the above, in more detail, with a nice little paean to Chris' dad, including his full name - which I wouldn't post here - a full transcript of his pregame speech and links to what Chris and Turbo and others are doing now.

Not to mention some small details, some stories from my soccer days, mostly involving us, that I am going to save, to paraphrase Capt. Miller in "Saving Pvt. Ryan", just for me.

You get none of that. Mostly because some of it doesn't exist or I can't find it, and partly because, well, as usual, in my dreams I'm far more eloquent... and I promptly forget all the words I used when I wake up.

AND BACK TO REALITY

In any event, it was an interesting, slightly strange experience. And like I said, bittersweet. I have a happy life now, and I had a good holiday with Marisa and my family and hers.

Yet there's something nostalgic about my youth, at least for me, and not in a mid-life crisis kind of way. Just something about innocence, a time before jobs and bills and worrying about money and the mortgage. A time when life was simple, and praise measured for how hard and well you played a game. No politics, no backstabbing at work, no ridiculous b.s. Just friends and the joy of a game, and the knowledge that you could measure yourself by time on the field and the final score.

And be comfortable in the knowledge that there are good men out there, like Chris' dad, looking out for you and looking out for their son. Teaching you the right way to play, the right way to live.

I guess maybe, as I approach my wedding and begin to think about a subsequent fatherhood, it's a reminder of certain things my subconscious doesn't want me to forget. Things to teach my kids, God willing, when they come.

Who's to say? It was a blog within a dream about a dream.

Division rivalry gone local

It's been a month for meeting Internet friends, I guess.

Today, Marisa and I had lunch in New York City with Phil, a fellow coach in the Jack Adams Memorial Hockey League and a semi-avid lurker/reader of this blog.

Editor's note: I'd insert the link to Phil's blog above, but he hasn't actually started it yet. Get crackin', Phil! What else is there to do in freakin' Alberta this time of year?

Of course, I neglected to take a picture. Which saves me a bit of embarassment, as Phil is honkin' tall. And Canadian.

Anyway, Phil turned out to be as great a guy as I'd expected from our many e-mails and trade negotiations. Even if he wouldn't send me Dan Hamhuis for three third-round picks.

It was worth a try, he was drinking.

Besides, Phil, the coach of the fabled Brisco County Comets, is notorious for regretting our in-division trades.

I don't know why - even though I consistently get the better of him on the surface in terms of players - hello? Michael Ryder for Vinny Prospal? - his team keeps getting better (can you say Potvin Division champions?) while mine keeps getting worse (can you say first to worst in two years?).

Regardless, Phil's a great guy and reminds me why I love the Jack so much, even though I've only ever e-mailed or talked on the phone with most of the guys. He's on a tour of the "Eastern" conference, meeting up with a couple of the other coaches for a Flyers game later in the week.

And yes, when we got home, Norton was out waiting for us again. A dozen Master locks can't hold that dog.

At least we won't have to bring back the contractor. He just left, for crying out loud.

I wuz robbed! In my dream, anyway...

I usually have very vivid dreams. Not that Vivid. I mean, really realistic.

Last night - well, really this morning - I had a dream that I was in a boxing match. It wasn't exactly realistic in the sense of boxing. I think I fought a girl, who was replaced halfway through by a 9-year-old boy, in Mexico.

And even though I was thumping the heck out of the poor little kid in Round 4 of a scheduled four-round bout (and feeling slightly guilty), I couldn't finish him.

Then, although the whole thing was announced in Spanish and I couldn't understand a word of it, from the celebration by the little kid, I realized:

I lost the decision.

Thing is, to borrow a quote, "We wuz robbed!"

Well, shortly after I left the arena in dismay, I woke up to my alarm.

And I was still honked off.

Funny how a dream can be so real, it leaves you in a bad mood when you wake up.

Let me eat cake!

So I was headed up to Green Bay, Wis., to cover the Raiders-Packers game for Raiderfans.net, and along the way, I noticed something.


When you drive from Milwaukee's Gen. Mitchell Airport to Appleton, Wis., the suburb where we were staying, you drive up the highway and make a left at a town called Manitowoc, which I can't pronounce (I think it's "man-i-toe-WOC" but I keep saying "man-i-TOE-woc"), but which sounded awfully familiar.

See, in addition to the Burger Boat Company ("the ship you can eat like a meal"), Manitowoc is home to...

Uniquely Yours Pastry Shoppe, makers of fine wedding cakes and the best mint brownies I've ever eaten.

So I did what any sane person would do... or at least, what any half-crazed munkee would do. I stopped to place my holiday order!


And that's how I get to spend the better part of a Saturday evening with the one, the only Jin!

And may I say, she's every bit as lovely and charming in person as she is on "teh internets."

The shop is lovely, and includes not just a wide variety of cakes, cookies, pies, bars, cookies and cookies, but an area filled with Tarot cards, used books and, most importantly...

Jewels' jewelry!

So after a quick tour of the shop, and an introduction to Mr. Jin and the Jindog, we headed off to dinner at the Courthouse Pub, which features Jin's Chocolate Oblivion on its menu.

(Directions as best I recall: Turn right on Marshall, turn left at Golddiggers - adults only! - and turn right at the prison.)

And then it was a few hours of dining, whining and just generally enjoying the hell out of ourselves.

Then, after placing my Sweetbox order - order your own here! - I got a nice lil' Hanukkah gift: A box of assorted cookies for me and Marisa, including lemony ones for M and berry and chocolate/PB ones for me.

(She ate four within about two hours of me getting off the plane Monday morning. I killed six more at work Tuesday night. Thank goodness they're small.)

But, by way of rebuttal, I did not try to steal a whole tray of the berry ones, as she claims! I was merely, um, moving them to a more easterly location.

Anyway, despite one small incident in which I nearly left my cookies where I'd safely hidden them in the rental car (resulting in a frantic rush back to the Hertz counter at 5:15 a.m. before my plane flight), the visit proved spectacular.

Jin's a helluva baker. And a helluva lady, too.

And did I mention the cookies are pretty darn good? And she ships them.

(Not like Burger Boat Company ships, I mean mail order.)

So... you've read this far. What are you waiting for? Click the links I so painstakingly insert into all my posts that you usually never click on, and order some cookies in time for the holidays!

Yeah, I'm still hoping for the munkee cookies - ow! dropping that hint hurt! - but still. You gotta trust me on this one. These cookies don't miss. And the brownies don't, either!

Certificate of Authenticity (brownies not included):

Zultek Watch 2007-08!

The good news is, after several months of searching for Matt Zultek and it appears he is still employed in hockey.

The Toledo Storm of the ECHL, Zultek's last team, suspended operations at the conclusion of the 2006-07 season due to an ownership change and stadium-development plans.

After that, I sort of lost track of my favorite pseudo-failed hockey prospect. He didn't sign with another ECHL team, nor an AHL team, and sure wasn't in the NHL.

The otherwise-fantabulous Internet Hockey Database had no listing for him in '07-08, and Google searches weren't hitting much. I was starting to fear he'd hung up the skates and returned to St. Thomas University.

But no.

I believe I've found him.

The problem is, he's playing in Europe. On the sixth page of a Google search - four pages after my previous post on him - I found a link to my guy Matt scoring a hat trick in a game.

In Austria's Erste Bank Eishockey Liga. Or possibly in Germany's Deutsche Elite League.

I can't tell. I don't speak German.

But back on November 9th, Matt Zultek bringt Bulldogs-Sieg. Whatever that means.

Further bulletins as events and English sites allow.