Dear followers, I have seen the proverbial "light". Some say that the "light" is a beacon of the way forward in one's life, showing them the path to salvation, fulfillment, or perhaps a jelly doughnut with sprinkles.
For me, the light was none of those things. In fact, my "light" was not a sign from a deity or anything of that nature. No, mine was a .gif file. In fact, it was this .gif file:
You see, I stared at this image for a solid five minutes.
I didn't move.
I didn't blink.
I didn't speak, breathe, laugh, cry, mumble, yell, or even exist.
You see, this .gif became everything, and everything became it. I needed neither food, nor shelter, nor water, for as long as Marc Andre Fleury's face morphed shapes without ever changing, the complexities of how this was possible became so overwhelming that all other questions or thoughts became insignificant to the point of me completely forgetting them.
All hail shape shifting but not shifting Marc Andre Fleury .gif, for it has shown us the light.
Oh, also, he was freaking amazing tonight. Out of three games I've been to this season, Flower has been the first star in two of them. Not half bad, huh? But you know who wasn't amazing?
Penguins fans, of the lower bowl variety. Specifically, the Captain Morgan club.
In the upper bowl, you are never more than a few feet from someone who is certifiably insane. The kind of person who watches "Zodiac," while sharpening a knife that they have lovingly (and hatefully) named "Jaromir". On the negative side of things, this person probably fantasizes about beheading Alexander Daigle. On the positive side of things, they care. And that's what's missing in the lower bowl.
My associate, whom we shall refer to henceforth as Heisenberg (because that's his bowling name), and I sat in a row of about 20 seats. For 50 minutes of the 60 minute game, there were four people in the row. But it's a complete, standing-room-only sell out, right? Sure it is. I believe it. But half of the people in the Captain Morgan Club are empty because their occupants are drinking at the bar and watching the game on tv.
Some day, perhaps I shall know and understand the joy that comes with being in the presence of something, but watching it on a television. Maybe I will travel to....nay, make a pilgrimage to the Grand Canyon, for the sake of attaining the spiritual onenness necessary to understand the people who watch a hockey game on tv from within the very arena whence came said hockey game. And when I get to the canyon, I shall walk to the edge. I shall pay a little Mexican child a dollar, and I shall say "un burro, por favor". Then the child will provide me with the donkey I have requested, and I shall sit on that donkey. And I will hold up a picture of the grand canyon, shielding the view of the real thing from my eyes, and I shall stare at this picture. And then I will turn around and go home, complaining that "the real thing didn't live up to my expectations".
Because every time I hear "SHOOT THE PUCK," "NICE CALL, REF," or "FUCK YOU, JAGR," I die a little bit inside. I want "SHOOT THE PUCK" guy to realize that in doing so, the puck would bounce off a defender's shin pads, causing a breakaway against us. I want "NICE CALL, REF" to realize that the "ref" is actually a linesman, and that the puck did, in fact, cross the blue line, causing a whistle for a legitimate offsides. And I want "FUCK YOU, JAGR" guy to take off his "Tap Out" hat, tuck his head into his O'Crosby St Patrick's Day themed jersey, and keep pushing his head down and around until it's up his ass, because Jaromir Jagr is one of the ten best hockey players of all time, and deserved nothing but cheers on what could have been his last game in Pittsburgh.
But.
Those people care. And I like that. Give me "SHOOT THE PUCK" guy over the girl who's been on her phone the entire game, mumbling "when is this going to be over", any time. Give up your seats, princess, I'll take them.
The New Jersey Devils suck. Go Flower, go Penguins, go Penguins fans.
Some people are creepy, and like to have sex with dead bodies. I'm not making it up.
I'm not one of those people.
Instead, I like to play with dead birds.
I'm not talking about playing around with a sparrow I find on the side of the road, nor a pigeon on my porch. I have two dogs for that. Instead, I enjoy goofing off with poultry. I'm writing this in order to show all of you the joys of messing around with frozen or thawed poultry. It's not just for eating.
Recently, I had the honor of supplying the turkey for Thanksgiving, because the owner of the restaurant supplied all of us with frozen birds. Because our freezer was full of non-turkey items, I had to bring the turkey to my grandma's house for safekeeping.
Not wanting to have a frozen turkey rolling around the passenger seat of my car, I put a seatbelt on it. then I realized that it looked cold, so I put a t shirt on it. And, since it already looked sort of like a person, I drew a face on it with a sharpie and put a hat on it, because why not? All the way to my grandma's house, I talked and sang to the turkey, because a long night of work makes me clinically insane.
Tonight, I was faced with another dead bird, this time, a thawed chicken.
You Call It Dinner, I call It Performance Art In The Making.
Let's have ourselves a quiz, shall we?
When Will Schuster had to put a bunch of butter and spices into a chicken, did he
A) follow the directions as written, and then put it in the oven?
B) Improvise with different spices, deviating slightly from the recipe, and then put it in the oven?
C) Shove his hand into the gaping cavity, and pretend it was a puppet, while singing "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life"?
You bet your ass (and the chicken's) that I got my Monty Python on.
Why did I write this? To offend? To immediately lose half of my friends to mutterings of "oh, he's crazy"? Or was it simply because I had nothing better to do while waiting for my poultry puppet to merrily roast? I'm not really sure. This post is awful, but at least my blog won't be deleted by blogger.com due to lack of activity. I'll try to write more later.
Have you ever heard the urban legend about the man who had hiccups for over 60 years until he died? Yeah, that wasn't a joke. It happened to a man named Charles Osbourne, who hiccuped nonstop from 1922 until 1990. Could you imagine that?
Personally, I would rather have one of those sneezing fits than a bout of hiccups. I'm talking about one of those horrifying, "did somebody electrocute you" bouts of sneezing. The kind that make you throw out your back. I hate hiccups.
I say all of this, because I had hiccups a few minutes ago. I don't know about you, but every time this happens to me, I wonder if they will ever stop. Will I be forced to spasm involuntarily every minute of my life until I ascend to the glory of Valhalla, having fought and died in an epic battle between my will to survive and my trachea?
What if I've convinced a girl I'm into to kiss me, and all of a sudden after months of hard work, as I lean in for my glorious reward, I let out an "ARP" or whatever onomatopoeic sound one would type to indicate a mood-killing hiccup? That would be dreadful.
But it's not all bad. I could certainly find work.
Strap me to the front of a submarine and use me as a radar. Other submarines will be able to use the sound of my hiccups to judge their distance from the USS Spasm, using the knowledge that underwater, a hiccup travels roughly 42 knots per second.
I could help blind people, too. On most street corners nowadays, you can hear a soft beeping noise, intended to alert our blind brethren to the stoppage of traffic and the direction they should travel, in order to cross the road. Instead, though, you could use me. Of course, I'd have to wear a soundproof scarf or something when there are cars coming. Otherwise, blind people would be walking into oncoming traffic, and I wouldn't want that.
And, if my hiccups are fast enough, I could be used as a sound effect in dubstep or rap music.
I used to be in excellent shape. I played hockey and soccer, and I could run (or at least skate) for a long, long time, without feeling like I was on the verge of death.
Then I stopped, put on a bit of weight, and got in horrible shape. Recently, I decided to change that.
Except for yesterday, I've tried running at least two miles a day for the past few days. So far, I haven't been able to run the full two miles without stopping for a bit here and there. Today's run went something like this:
"Alright, you fat fuck. You are running today, and there's nothing you can do about it. Get your ipod, put on your game face, and run."
"But how do I run?"
"Move your right leg, like you're walking. Ok, good. Now your left. Now do it a lot faster than you normally would."
"Hey, I can do this. This is easy."
"Yep. Sure is. Now turn on some loud music and do this until you hit the mile mark. Then turn around."
"Hey, self-loathing part of my brain?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. You're making me a better person."
"Don't thank me yet, you're only at the corner"
"Right. Eyes on the prize."
5 minutes later.
"Hey, asshole?"
"Yes, self-loathing part of my brain?"
"Your legs hate you now, too"
"I know, man. What do I do?"
"Put on a face that makes it look like you're going to die any second now, and keep doing that leg thing I taught you"
"Like this? ARGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!"
"Yep."
"Hey brain? I'm going to die."
But then, somehow, I make it home. Then, I lay down and vow to myself that I'm going to find some other way of exercising, because I'm never doing that shit again.
But then I do it. And it sucks. And it's hard. But I'm doing it.
Does anybody remember the Real World? That horrible show on MTV? Apparently, it debuted in 1992, when I was but a wee lad, and guess what? It's still going on. I guess people still watch MTV. "People" is a loose term, used to describe anything with appropriate chromosomes, though I think that many of the specimens who watch MTV, especially those who still watch The Real World, are more aptly described as "morons," "idiots," "the lowest common denominator," and "Flyers Fans".
In the show, a group of similarly-termed idiots leave home, and join similar idiots, to live together. I guess some of them look for jobs, some of them watch tv, most of them have sex and spread syphilis, and presumably, they all ruin their families' opinions of themselves.
While there are some realistic elements, such as the inclusion of breathing human beings and oxygen, very little of it is "the real world". The real world does not often provide stipends, pool tables, and Jacuzzis to idiots. Actually, I'm pretty sure Michael Moore owns a Jacuzzi and probably a pool table, so I might be wrong.
This is a picture I drew on Microsoft Paint. It is a manatee, sitting on a bench on a beach, sipping on a Bahama Mama (or some other festively-named beverage), enjoying a palm tree and rays of sunshine beating down upon him. This picture is perhaps more like the real world than The Real World.
From the moment I graduated about two weeks ago, my Mom has mentioned this nebulous idea of the real world to me. "Mentioned," perhaps, is not the best word for it. She's been harping on it. But she's right. However, it finally hit me today when I checked my bank account and saw how much money I have left in it, just how screwed I am. Here, let me show you what it was like.
I am playing the part of Brock Lesnar, while Hulk Hogan is planet Earth/the ATM at the mall.
Quick thought: I think ATMs should ask you for an estimate when they check to see how much money you don't have (which in my case is "almost all of the money"). If you guess too high, it will play the fail sound from The Price Is Right. And, much like The Price Is Right, if you do end up guessing too high, the ATM will not allow you to make any further transactions.
The safe bet is always $1.
The point of this whole post is that I just felt like writing something, because I'm sitting up, thinking about money. Not in a vain, greedy sort of way. Rather, I'm thinking such things as "I'm going to be living at home forever" and "I bet I'd be good at flipping burgers".
Of course, I have a few things on my mind, including looking into teaching abroad for a year, trying to get a job at the Almanac, and continuing to draw bad pictures and write aimlessly on this very blog. Two of these will result in money, and the third will get me nowhere, though my friends seem to enjoy it, which makes me happy.
But as I lament about my financial sorrows at the moment, I find solace in the story of two beloved culinary idols, known simply as Mike and Ike. You see, last year, Mike and Ike had a divorce.
And it appears that Mike got the rights to "and".
The official website described it as a split due to "creative differences," but in this day and age of marriage equality, I find it disheartening that Messrs. Mike and Ike did not take a stand for divorce equality. They could have been the first major public figures to bring the demise of holy matrimony in same-sex relationships to the forefront of the public eye, but they failed to do so. One can only hope that Johnson and Johnson will endure their own relationship issues in the near future.
After the split, it is rumored that Ike took half of Mike's stuff, as Mike had the higher net worth, due to his name coming first in the candy's title. When one thinks of Mike and Ike candy, alleged Ike's attorneys (ironically the same as Ike Turner's attorneys), the first name is the one which sticks with consumers, thus entitling Ike to half of Mike's belongings. So much for the justice system.
Mike, dismayed at the loss of his mansion and 1983 Ferrari, was driven to drugs and alcohol, eventually hitting his low point amidst binging on crack with Toronto mayor Rob Ford.
But what gives me hope for my future is this: in 2013, Mike checked himself into the Betty Ford Center, to seek help for his substance-abuse issues. There were many hard days in the Betty Ford Clinic for young Mike, as he went through the pains of withdrawal and wondered aloud why people can remember more about Betty Ford than Gerald Ford. About a month into his stay, Ike came to visit and the two quickly reconciled their previously-irreconcilable differences.
The two have sense restarted their whirlwind love, though business has taken a back seat to family. They adopted two children, Lem and Mel, whose delicious lemon and watermelon flavored candies I am currently eating. Things are looking up for Mike and Ike.
When all seemed lost, and the end appeared near for everyone's favorite semi-cylindrical fruit-flavored confectionery couple, crack addiction reared its ugly head, and through matrimonial and personal turmoil, the duo found new life. It is my new found belief that if Mike can overcome crippling addiction and reunite with his true love amidst great public pressure and scrutiny, I can certainly get The Almanac to publish something I wrote.
Some people get injured in serious ways. Sometimes it's out of their control, and sometimes it is because of something stupid they were doing. Not me.
No, I have Will Schuster injuries.
A Will Schuster injury is when you do something really stupid, think you're going to die, and then end up without so much as a bruise, and people either don't believe you or think you're a wuss.
Recently, my friend was punching me because of a conversation we had months ago, in which I told her, a very talented boxer, that I'd fight her for her own amusement. I avoided the "confrontation" for months, until I finally couldn't anymore, and told her to please just stay away from my face, since it's very, very handsome. To her credit, she listened. I appreciated it.
The end result was that she bruised my ribs up a bit, and it hurt. Woe is me. Problem was, the bruises weren't visible, so she took no pity on me, nor did anyone else.
This is a Will Schuster Injury.
But the story I am going to tell is a Will Schuster Moment. A Will Schuster Moment is when I'm not injured, but due to some stupid choice I made, I almost died. The zipline story is one of those.
My friends and I decided to go to Presque Isle to enjoy the last warm day I would experience as an Erie resident. We slacklined for a bit, which is sort of like walking a tightrope, only you're supposed to vault off it and do flips or something.
As it turns out, I'm not very aerodynamic.
There's an old saying I love, which is that "a bumblebee's body is too large for its wings to support it. But the bumblebee does not know this, so it flies anyways". I'm like the bumblebee, except I know that I cannot fly, yet I try anyways.
I tried to do a frontflip several times, and each time, I landed on my spine. Smarter people would have given up, but I didn't. Then, on the fourth try, I successfully did a front flip! And then landed on my face. I promptly retired from the competitive world of obscure gymnastics with an 0-4 record.
Relaxing on the vacated lifeguard's chair after my retirement, my friends John and Whitney decided to go into the freezing water and swim to the rocks, which had "keep off" painted ominously on them. I decided to join my much-fitter friends in their quest for the rocks, like a backwards Christopher Columbus, and headed away from land, joined by the incomparable Jake Sturm.
The water was treacherous, my friends. Not only this, but it was cold. Too cold. I was worried I might never see certain parts of my body again. But I soldiered on, because I had to make it to those rocks.
Now, you know when you see a tall building and think "meh, that isn't THAT tall," but then you get to the top and scream "OH MY GOD, I NEED TO GO DOWN IMMEDIATELY"? Just me? Well, the rocks were similar. From the beach, they were close. In the water, they might as well have been New Zealand.
For the first bit of the journey, I was able to walk, but eventually, it got too deep, and I had to freestyle swim my way to these rocks. About 3/4 of the way there, my asthma started catching up with me. I had to make it to these rocks, though, because I couldn't turn back. If I did, I certainly wouldn't make it back to the shore.
So I'm kicking. And paddling. And kicking. And drowning. And paddling. And drowning some more.
My life flashed before my eyes. 22 years. Family, friends, things I never got to accomplish. All of it, gone. I was going to drown in Lake Erie, arguably the lamest of the Great Lakes to die in.
I raised my arms up to signal to my friends that I was about to drown.
Then I slipped under the cold Lake Erie water.
Almost.
As it turned out, the bottom of the lake curved back up, and was only about 5 feet deep. All I had to do was stand up.
These are the sorts of things that only happen to me. Don't be a Will Schuster, and don't let your friends be a Will Schuster.
When Macho Man Randy Savage walked to the ring in the 1980's and early 1990's in the WWF, his theme music was "Pomp and Circumstance". I believe the tradition of entrance music was started with Hulk Hogan's "Real American," but that's neither here nor there. Savage's music is considered a classic, but it never really struck a cord (chord?) with me. In fact, it's a stupid song. In my mind, "Pomp and Circumstance" is just filler, to be played over in your own head with the one song that means the most to you, whatever that may be. Why is this song important? Because it's the song played at every graduation across the country. So what would I be playing over it?
"Paper Lanterns," by Green Day.
That was my song during my Freshman year of college. I was unquestionably and unapologetically unhappy. The song tells the story of a guy who's into a girl who doesn't like him back. The chorus? "To this day, I'm asking why I still think about you". It spoke to me in a way that few songs ever have. I was in a relationship I was extremely unhappy with, and it consumed me for the entirety of my Freshman year. I said horrible things to her, while she said some pretty bad things back to me. I think we both wish we could take them back. At least I do. Today, she's very happy and in the process of planning her marriage to her fiance, and I wish her luck. Things weren't great between us, but hey, you can't go four years with another person and not hope even a little bit that you both end up alright.
Problem? Getting to that, hold on.
"You Don't Know What Love Is," by The White Stripes.
Jack White is incredible, and in this song, he summed up my feelings for Sophomore year of college. You see, I'd spent over a year trying my hardest to do the impossible. Namely: make someone happy, who wasn't going to be happy until I was firmly in Pittsburgh to stay. I made a firm commitment when I decided to go to Mercyhurst University (then, Mercyhurst College), that I would stick out the bad times, and finish in four years at the place I chose. I am proud to say that I succeeded, and now have a bachelor's degree that I worked hard for. But at the time, I strongly considered leaving. I was never going to be happy in my relationship as long as I was in Erie. For every great night I had, it was going to be marred by a night of fighting on the phone with someone who didn't deserve the stress of having me so far away, and whom I didn't deserve making me feel so bad about it.
That summer, I went to a concert. My best friend in the whole world, bar none, was the person performing. I showed up late, and I was placed in a seat behind a wall, from which I couldn't see her sing. She has a beautiful voice and an even more beautiful face that could light up outer space. That wall symbolized everything that I hated in my life, which was a lot. On the other side of the wall was happiness, the one thing I craved more than anything. Just to be really, truly happy. But I was blocked, and I needed to tear down that wall immediately. So, I drove to my girlfriend's house, who will maintain her anonymity right now, and broke up with her. I'm not proud of how I did it. In truth, I handled it worse than I could have if I tried to do it 1,000 more times. You live and learn. But as I said, we're both in better places right now. Much better places.
But after I did this, I was free. Free to do as I wanted. Free to live the life I wanted to have for over two years at that point. Free to tell my friend how I felt about her. Ah, to be in love. It isn't fun.
It didn't go according to plan.
You see, when you're a total asshole for a while, the girl you love doesn't tend to be in love with you back. Lesson to be learned, kids: if you love someone, don't hide like an idiot. Go for it. You'll always regret it if you don't. For a while, I regretted not going for it, but I finally did, and now I don't have to feel bad about not trying. I still love her and she's still my best friend. I'd give almost anything in the world to have her, but guess what? I don't. And that's alright, because I tried. Confronting my feelings for someone else has been the biggest hurdle I've encountered in my life, and I failed to do so at the right time. But inevitably, I did. So I have no regrets as far as that's concerned.
Don't be scared, just do it.
"Have a Drink On Me," by AC/DC
Hi, Mom. Welcome to junior year. I studied, and I did my work, but....I went kind of crazy. I'm sorry. You're not going to be happy to read this, but it's the truth, and I'm trying to get it all out. Well, most of it. I could ruin everybody's lives with fun facts, but out of respect, I shan't.
I was single, and...wait.....hold on.
*knock knock*
Dude, who is it?
"Alcohol. And fun. And being single."
COME ON IN, DUDE!
Yeah, I drank a lot. I also went to parties. I also made a lot of friends.
I also found something I love. You might guess this from...well...this post. But, I love writing. I stumble over my words a lot when I speak, because my brain is going a million miles per second, and my mouth can only do around 100,000. But when I write, I find that my words aren't slurred, aren't tripped over, aren't messed up. Raw, stream-of-consciousness, and candid. Deal with it, or don't read this. I write to get my feelings out, and even better, I write to make you laugh. I want you to enjoy what I have to say, and I want you to tell your friends to read my blog because I'm a funny S.O.B.
Note: please tell your friends to read my blog. I want to be a writer, and I'm going to starve if you don't. And if you've read this far, you probably don't want me to die from starvation. So please spread the word. I'm kind of funny, right? If not, let me know in the comment section, and I'll try harder.
Point is, through all the drinking, partying, and nonchalance of Junior year, I realized that there's one thing I really think I'm good at. I spent so long saying "woe is me, I'm not good at anything". Well, fuck you, high school Will, you can write pretty well. Just do that.
And so I shall.
"Burden In My Hand," by Soundgarden.
Welcome to senior year.
Why did I choose this song? Simply put, it's my favorite song of all time.
"Close your eyes and bow your head, I need a little sympathy. Because fear is strong and love's for everyone who isn't me".
That's not me. At all. I don't want sympathy, and I know love is the only thing in this world that I want. So why do I love this song?
Because it's so not me. It's a cautionary tale. It's powerful, and it isn't me. People love me, and I love them back. I've met incredible people in the last four years.
I've met a girl from the middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania, who truly (and I do mean truly) wants to save the entire ecosystem, and she would save the whole world if she could. She'd also kill me if she knew how many paper towels I use.
I met a girl from Pakistan, who came to America with her family, and is obsessed with the American government. Her ideas may not always be exactly in-tune with mine, but if she wants to run for President someday (once they change the rule about birth), she has my vote. She's more American than any other person I know.
I met a guy who wanted one thing, but because of something he couldn't help, had to entirely reinvent himself and become something that he wasn't planning on being quite yet, and has taken up the task admirably. He has my respect forever for what he's done so far to be the best man he can be.
I met a girl for whom life hasn't been great at all. Someone who's lost numerous friends too early, and not on her terms. But she's managed to still be beautiful, funny, and always worth my time. We fight a lot, but she's special to me, because she showed me that after everything that beat me up a bit, I can still care about other people, and I'll always owe her one for that. I constantly try to help her, but I'm not in her life to fix her. I'm just there to be me, and that's good enough.
Amazing people.
If you're reading this and saying "none of that sounds like me," don't worry. If you're reading this, chances are good that you're important to me. I just couldn't cover everyone's story here. Don't hold it against me.
But if I had to pick one song to cover everything, from start to finish, it would be "Crown of Thorns," by Mother Love Bone and covered by Pearl Jam.
Where am I headed? I have no idea.
The song talks about "Mr. Faded Glory," a guy who didn't "go for it" when he had the chance. He could've told that girl he loved her, but he didn't. He had those opportunities, but he didn't take them.
I spent all of college being Mr. Faded Glory. Not anymore. I'm trying for jobs, attempting to reach my goal. Maybe it won't happen. But at least if I go for it, I won't be able to say I didn't try.
I've told the girl I love her. I started a blog, which I share with several hundred people on a regular basis. I'm in correspondence with people who can help to get me where I want to go, and who see that my desire is genuine. But only I can get where I want to be.
Some people say, "if you want something done right, do it yourself". That's bullshit. If you want something done right, work on it yourself, but if you need help, ask one of the many awesome people you've met in your life. Maybe they won't be able to help with what you're trying to accomplish. But at the very least, maybe you'll share a pretty funny dick joke.
And in the end, if you can't laugh, you can't do much else. But I'm still laughing, and I've seen a lot in the last four years.
The playoffs begin tomorrow (probably today by the time you read this), and as we gather around our televisions to yell at hated rivals and cheer on the Penguins and our bandwagon Western Conference teams, there will be something missing, and it points to the former: hated rivals. Sure, the Capitals are in the playoffs, but the rivalry with them is more a creation of the media and serves as little more than a bragging point for Penguins fans, who have been able to witness Washington crumble at the feet of the Penguins on numerous occasions. The Rangers are in as well, though to say the Penguins have a "rivalry" with them would be to say that Ronald Reagan had a rivalry with Walter Mondale (this blog's favorite analogy for a landslide). The Rangers simply aren't enough of a thorn in our side to care about them. And the Islanders? Well, we'll get to them later.
So what's missing? Surely the Penguins can't have a big-time rival that didn't make the playoffs? Rangers are in, Capitals are in, Islanders are in, Red Wings are in, Ph.......
Wait a second. Is....Is.....
The Philadelphia Flyers will be watching the playoffs from their couches. Actually, Daniel Briere won't be watching on the couch, because his wife took the step ladder in the settlement.
Philadelphia's season began like a Guns N' Roses show, and ended the same way: disaster. The part of Axl Rose will be played by Ilya Bryzgalov, who left the "stage" (locker room) yesterday, telling the Philly media the Russian-accented equivalent of "Yinz can ALL suck it". The blame (or thanks) doesn't lay solely on the shoulders of the Cosmonaut, though. Just like the rest of Guns N' Roses, the Flyers used to be good enough to back up Bryz. But when Slash (Pronger) and Izzy (Jagr) left, the Flyers didn't have the offense to score, and the defense left Bryz out to dry like an old lady's bloomers on a clothesline.
Philly actually finished 7th in the conference with 133 goals for, but found themselves in 10th with 141 goals against. These numbers aren't terrible, but coming in 10th in the conference in goals against just ain't gonna cut it, Jack. Bryz finished 36th in GAA at 2.79, and 43rd in SV% at .900. Those stats couldn't get the '84 Oilers into the playoffs. The blame, again, isn't entirely on Brygalov. He was 12th in shots against. Looking at the other goaltenders in the top 12, only half of them are in the playoffs, and they were bailed out by solid offense, despite defensive failure, something the Flyers were unable to provide everyone's favorite HBO character.
I like Bryz, so I'm basically defending him. Plus, it's more fun to put the blame on all of the Flyers. Killing 20 birds with one stone.
But while we rejoice at their hilarious failure now, we know that just like Frosty the Snowman, they'll be back again someday. Hell, they might be back tomorrow, but only because they let Chris Pronger drive, and they got lost.
It should be mentioned that I'm not making fun of Pronger. Ok, I am. But I legitimately feel bad for the guy, and I put the line I wrote above to a vote. I didn't get any responses, so I just assumed that if I had, they would say "who cares, he can't read it anyways".
If I ever meet Chris Pronger, I will beg for his forgiveness and remind him that I'm just some punk kid hiding behind a computer. Then I will change my pants. I really do hope he recovers, because he doesn't deserve for his Hall of Fame Career to end the way it has. Those jokes were in worse taste than Scott Hartnell's ex wife (who Hartnell, himself, trashed on Twitter, so I'm not apologizing for that one).
To wrap up my semi-eulogy of the Flyers team that had a shorter shelf-life than "Gangnam Style", I would just like to say that I wish them nothing but failure and terrible draft picks until the sun explodes and we all burn to tiny bits.
________________________________________________________
The Eastern Conference was kind of like a bowl of day-old curry with whipped cream on top. I've already covered much of this in recent posts, but just to give a quick recap......*deep inhale* the Ottawa Senators suffered many injuries but kept themselves alive the Jets failed to make it the Panthers proved that last season was a fluke the Flyers sucked the Rangers weren't the monsters they were supposed to be the Bruins are worn out like tires on a Model T the Canadiens are in the midst of a collapse the Devils are old enough to actually be captained by Lucifer everybody else sucks and the Flyers sucked too.
Now, call me a homer (I am), but guess what? The Penguins destroyed the competition in the East, and it wasn't close. While other teams sold off assets in endgame Monopoly-like fashion, the Penguins were more than happy to scoop up Park Place and Boardwalk, and landed Jarome Iginla from the Calgary Flames and Brenden Morrow from the Dallas Stars. They also acquired Douglas Murray from San Jose, and convinced Carolina to give them Jussi Jokinen while still paying a chunk of his salary. Jokinen has put up 11 points in 10 games in Pittsburgh. Not too shabby for a guy who was put on Waivers a month ago, huh?
They finished the season on top of the East, but none of that matters now, and none of it will ever serve as anything but a reminder of expectations that weren't met, should they fail to make it to the Stanley Cup Finals. So now it's time for the team to put up or shut up. Ray Shero did his part. Now there are 20 or so guys who need to step up. And for our part as fans, I expect beards and hoarse voices until the final buzzer. I expect to lose half of my friends due to my insane behavior while watching these games, and I hope to not be able to start on rebuilding those friendships until late June.
The 4-5 Matchup: #4 Boston Bruins (28-14-6) vs #5 Toronto Maple Leafs (26-17-5)
Regular Season Series: 3-1 Bruins
The battle begins again for two Original Six teams. Of course, we all know that the Original Six is a nonsensical marketing term the NHL came up with to sell more merchandise. The Original Six makes no mention of the original Senators, Toronto Hockey Club, or Montreal Wanderers. But for this series, you will be constantly reminded about the glory days of the Original Six teams, and you will have to shovel down mouthfuls of BS until you vomit up something that looks like a Flyers jersey.
Regardless, there is a series to be played. As is the case with any 4-5 matchup, I find it very difficult to pick a winner. The Bruins have experience on their side, winning the 2011 Stanley Cup with a similar roster to the one they have now. However, the Big Bad Broons looked tired in the final weeks of the regular season, including the final game against the Senators, where they looked lost at times, and Terry Schiavo-esque at others. I don't think that their offense will be able to bail them out, as they finished 14th in the league in goals for, many of which came in the beginning of the season, when they still had life. If they win, expect a lot of 1-goal victories.
The Maple Leafs, on the other hand, are the only team to not make the playoffs between lockouts. What an accomplishment. Sucking for a sustained period is no fun, and it cost Brian Burke his job. Know what else is no fun? Getting fired at the beginning of the season where the Leafs finally make the playoffs. Sorry, Burky.
"I told them Phil could do it..."
I don't trust the Leafs' goaltending, though Reimer has been excellent this season, considering the uncertainty the Leafs faced in the net a few months ago. Reimer is the clear-cut number one guy, but will he be able to stand up to the Bruins in the playoffs? We'll find out soon. I'm putting money on the Bruins' Chara being able to neutralize the scoring touch of Toronto's Phil Kessel, thus squashing a large part of the Toronto offense. The rest of the Bruins' defense will take care of the rest. Toronto could steal it, but I don't think it'll happen. Bruins move on.
Not this year, Toronto.
Prediction: Boston wins, 4-2
The 3-6 Matchup: #3 Washington Capitals (27-18-3) vs #6 New York Rangers (26-18-4)
Regular Season Series: 2-1 Rangers
The Capitals were so mud for most of the season that an Ethiopian wouldn't make a house out of them. Then, somehow, they started rolling. I don't know how it happened, and I won't give them credit, because they are a terrible hockey team. Their defense is terrible. Their goaltending is terrible. Their offense is terrible. But they have Ovechkin, who a friend once told me is "the sexiest man alive," and she wasn't kidding.
The Rangers also sucked more than they should have this season. I'd spend more time analyzing both teams, but to be honest, I don't care about either of them at all.
In the end, I firmly believe that the Rangers will defeat the Capitals. Ovechkin is on fire lately, but he's running into Henrik Lundqvist, who is usually lights out in the first round. I expect King Henrik to put up a stellar first round performance again, and shut down Ovechkin. With OV out of the picture, Backstrom is invisible, and Mike Ribiero won't pose enough of a threat to win a series on his own. Meanwhile, New York's Rick Nash will turn out to be a playoff warrior. Not good enough that they can win the Cup, but he'll be really good. He's built for this part of the season, and we'll finally get to see what he can do in the Spring. Washington's goaltending might have been good in the final stretch of the regular season, but like all Washington goaltenders before him, Braden Holtby will be picked apart like Mufasa's carcass on the Serengeti.
Prediction: New York wins, 4-3.
The 2-7 Matchup: #2 Montreal Canadiens (29-14-5) vs #7 Ottawa Senators (25-17-6)
Regular Season Series: 2-2 tie (2 wins, 1 loss, 1 overtime loss apiece)
The Ottawa Senators are a team fueled by hate. They hate you, they hate me, and they hate Matt Cooke. While this might be a fun thing to poke at in the regular season, it can motivate a team to do great things in the playoffs.
"Terrible....but great, Mr. Potter...."
However, will they be able to harness the hate that they used to propel them from the depths of defeat and into the playoffs, or will they let that hate get the best of them the way they did when the Penguins and Matt Cooke visited Ottawa a little over a week ago? One thing that is outside the realm of that potentially reckless energy is goaltender Craig Anderson. Winner of 2013's ugliest hockey player award, the extra from the 1972 film "Deliverance" suffered a big injury that kept him out for a lot of the season, but goaltender Robin Lehner stepped up and saved the day in a big way. However, Anderson is back in net, and a quick Google search of "Craig Anderson is ugly" returned nothing but headlines that read something along the lines of "Craig Anderson Steals Ugly Win for Senators". Expect that to continue.
The Canadiens started the season on fire, but have fizzled in recent weeks. PK Subban provides a threat on the back end, but the Canadiens do not have enough up front to win them this series, especially against Ottawa's goaltending. I wouldn't be shocked, again, if the Canadiens win it, but the Senators will turn out to be too much. Because of injuries, the Sens have been playing playoff hockey for over a month, and have gelled as a team because of it. They're ready, while the Canadiens don't have the energy they brought in February. Prepare for the 2013 Montreal riots.
I asked for a contribution, and this is what I got:
Credit to the superemely-talented James. P. Matsif, esq.
Prediction: Ottawa wins, 4-2.
The 1-8 Matchup: #1 Pittsburgh Penguins (36-12-0) vs #8 New York Islanders (24-17-7)
Regular Season Series: 4-1 Penguins
Basically, the Penguins make a habit of beating up on the New York Islanders. The speed the Islanders bring is no joke, but they won't be able to beat this Penguins team. It's as simple as that. Evgeni Nabakov is a tested playoff goaltender, and by that, I mean he has a D-average. He's a big part of the "Sharks can't win the cup" stigma that's surrounded San Jose for about a decade. The Islanders, if anything, are reminiscent of the 2007 Penguins team that lost to Ottawa in 5 games, though they lack a lot of what made that team a Stanley Cup finalist the next season.
The Islanders perpetrated the Ambush on the Isle a few seasons ago, something that lives on in the minds of Penguins fans, if not the team themselves. NHL teams have long memories, but I don't think the Penguins will give that night a second thought. Pittsburgh is here to do one thing, and that's win the Stanley Cup. The Islanders will be a nearly-forgotten footnote on their path, if they succeed in hoisting the Cup in June.
Prediction: Pittsburgh wins, 4-1.
As a quick recap of my predictions, I predicted the West as follows:
#5 Los Angeles over #4 St Louis, 4-2
#6 San Jose over #3 Vancouver, 4-3
#2 Anaheim over #7 Detroit, 4-2
#1 Chicago over #8 Minnesota, 4-0
And in the East,
#4 Boston over #5 Toronto, 4-2
#6 New York Rangers over #3 Washington, 4-3
#7 Ottawa over #2 Montreal, 4-2
#1 Pittsburgh over #8 New York Islanders, 4-1.
Of course, none of these predictions really mean anything, they're just food for thought. I hope you enjoyed reading all of this, but more importantly, I hope you enjoy the Stanley Cup Playoffs. While issues regarding money threatened to ruin a lot of what makes this sport the best in the world, the Playoffs remain intact, and will be as exciting as ever. Let's go Pens.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Actually, it was my Mom, and she was knocking on my bedroom door, to tell me that the NHL was a thing again. Also, it was around 5 in the morning, not midnight. I was dreary, though so Poe got that right. The dreariness faded instantly, as I said aloud, "regarding the lockout, we shall now speak nevermore". It is April 28th, and each team has played 48 games in this truncated season. By the way, the only time I ever heard "truncated" before this NHL season was in reference to a truncated rectum, which I assure you is not how I wish to think about this NHL season. So therefore, of truncated rectums we shall speak "nevermore". Quoth the Schuster.
The name of the game this year is the asterisk. We've heard talk of the dreaded asterisk in Major League Baseball, where a bunch of fans, the government, sponsors, the league, and probably a few peanut vendors got up in arms, because their sport was significantly enhanced by steroids. Seriously, baseball was never more fun than when athletes who more closely resembled zoo animals than humans, both in appearance and in DNA structure, were hitting home runs like the bastard children of Clark Kent. The asterisk was to be put next to the names of these athletes, to denote the fact that their legendary feats of strength were aided by performance-enhancing drugs, in a half-assed effort to keep "integrity" alive.
The asterisk is alive again, this time in the NHL. In about a month and a half, fanbases of 29 teams will be clamoring for an asterisk to be affixed to the name of the 2013 Stanley Cup Champions. The win is tainted, they will say, because the team that won the Cup did so after little more than half of a regular season. It is inevitable. And it is false. The playoffs remain unsullied and whole. The road to the Stanley Cup is the same as it ever was. Win sixteen, achieve immortality. Lose four out of seven, get your golf clubs ready.
While the schedule is not yet out for the playoffs, we can assume that on Tuesday, the greatest tournament in professional sports will begin. 16 wins is what you need to win the Cup. A game every other day, with the speed turned up and the rules turned down. The best team might not win. If that was the case, hand the Cup to the Chicago Blackhawks. No, the team that wins will combine skill, which the Blackhawks, Penguins, and Ducks have in abundance, with brilliant coaching (see: Mike Babcock, Detroit) and the ruggedness necessary to stay healthy over a sustained playoff run. And a bit of luck.
Regular season records between teams do not matter. A team could go 4-0 against their first round opponent in the regular season, yet get swept in the playoffs by that same team. The reason is familiarity. When all is focused on crushing one opponent four times out of seven, a team learns everything about that opponent, and crafts a gameplan around minimizing their strengths and exploiting their weaknesses. It's more chess than brute force, and it will work every time. The team that wins will combine all of these attributes to hoist the Cup. Get in the fast lane, grandma, the bingo game is ready to roll.
Now let me tell you a thing or two...
____________________________________________________________________
The Matchups: Western Conference
The 4-5 Matchup: #4 St. Louis Blues (29-17-2) vs #5 Los Angeles Kings (27-16-5)
Regular Season series: 3-0 Kings
Dustin Penner's a nice fellow.
The Los Angeles Kings come into this series as the reigning Stanley Cup champions. Their regular season had its ups and downs, including a start that left some people wondering if they would succeed in even making the playoffs at all, let alone defend their championship. When the dust settled, the Kings finished in the 5th seed, staring the St. Louis Blues right in the face. The season series was a 3-0 sweep by the Kings, but if there is any series this year that could prove what I said above about regular season records being meaningless, this is the one. The Blues are built to be a tough, physical, and difficult team to play against in the playoffs. Bringing a lineup that boasts David Backes and TJ Oshie, the Blues have the physicality, along with the skill to put the puck in the net.
Still, I think that goaltending will play a decisive role in this matchup. The combination of Quick and Bernier for LA will outplay the tandem of Elliot and Halak in St. Louis, and send St Louis packing. If Jeff Carter can put the puck in the net for LA (he will) and Anze Kopitar can bring the game he brought last spring (he will), this one is an open and shut case. St. Louis will steal a game or two, but LA will move on.
Prediction: LA wins, 4-2.
The 3-6 Matchup: #3 Vancouver Canucks (26-15-7) vs #6 San Jose Sharks (26-16-7)
Regular Season Series: 3-0 Sharks
Uncertainty reigns supreme here. We saw that the Sharks were able to sweep the Canucks in the regular season, but which Sharks team will show up? The team that started the year on fire, or the team that couldn't put the puck in the net for 1/3 of the season? With Thornton, Marleau, and Logan Couture on the front end, the Sharks bring unquestionable talent, but especially in the case of Thornton and Marleau, do they bring the drive necessary to win a 7-game series against a perennial Western Conference powerhouse?
On the other side of the ice, the question is goaltending. The Sharks are backstopped by Antti Niemi, whose position is more solidified than Han Solo in carbonite. The Canucks, on the other hand, have been at the center of the hockey world this season, due to the goaltending controversy caused by their inability to find a suitable trade partner for Roberto Luongo. The oft-maligned netminder has kept a decent attitude through it all, taking the backseat whenever necessary, which is good, since Schneider will get the starts in the playoffs. If Schneider should collapse though, will the Canucks be able to trust Luongo, who has shown as much resilience in recent postseasons as a cardboard box in a hurricane? I think injuries and goaltending will play a role in this series more than any other factors, and I don't like how that looks for the Canucks.
Prediction: San Jose wins, 4-3.
The 2-7 Matchup: #2 Anaheim Ducks (30-12-6) vs #7 Detroit Red Wings (24-16-8)
Regular Season Series: 2-1 Red Wings
I honestly don't know what to think about this series. The Red Wings, by all means, shouldn't be here. They found themselves in the unenviable position of having to fight it out with the Minnesota Wild and Columbus Blue Jackets on the last day of the regular season (aside from today's game, thanks to those assholes in Boston) in order to gain a spot in the playoffs. The Detroit Red Wings have refused to die this season. Major retirements in the offseason have hurt them, as has shaky goaltending at times, and an inability most of the season to play the deep style of game that has made them the class of the NHL over the last two decades (sorry, angry Pens and Blackhawks fans, but Detroit is the model of consistency). Still, they have refused to die and become the Dead Things instead of the Red Wings.
Looking at coaching, Bruce Boudreau has done everything in his power to turn the considerable talents of the Ducks into a powerhouse, and he has succeeded. The Red Wings are run by Mike Babcock, one of the best in the game. He makes adjustments when necessary, and more often than not, they pay off.
I'm prefacing this by saying that I think the Red Wings could be this season's LA Kings and make it to the finals, because that's what the Red Wings do, provided that they win this series. But they won't, because the Ducks are just too good.
Prediction: Anaheim wins, 4-2.
The 1-8 Matchup: #1 Chicago Blackhawks (36-7-5) vs #8 Minnesota Wild (26-19-3)
Regular Season Series: 2-1 Blackhawks
Money cannot buy you happiness. But a LOT of money can buy you Ryan Suter and Zach Parise. How sweet it would have been yesterday, if the Wild failed to defeat the hapless Colorado Avalanche, despite their spending in the offseason. I get that as a Penguins fan, I have no right to say anything about a team loading up with talent to win a Stanley Cup, but the fact remains that 1) the Penguins did so through trades and the draft, and 2) I don't care.
Not even Dr. House can save the Wild here, though. The Chicago Blackhawks are the best team in the NHL this season, with all due (and desired) respect to the Penguins. I cannot see any team defeating them in a best-of-seven series until the final round, though injuries will almost certainly change the makeup of the Hawks. In the first round, however, this won't play much of a role, if any. Therefore, get your brooms out, because it's gonna be a sweep.
Prediction: Chicago wins, 4-0
Once the game between the Senators and Bruins ends tonight, the playoff picture in the East will be set, and I will write Pt. 2 with my Eastern Conference predictions. I'll be more informed about the East, because I honestly haven't watched much of the West this season at all, aside from the last week, when I was firmly on the Columbus bandwagon. I'll also be including a bit of a eulogy for the Philadelphia Flyers.
I hope you enjoyed this post, and thanks for reading through all of it. It was a big one.
The
stories written about the downturned economy are numerous, and
seemingly everybody has been adversely affected or knows someone who has
been damaged in some way by the nation’s economic decline in recent
years. As with all stories that involve a test of wills, however, there
are those who find a way to not only survive, but to excel. One such
character in this story, Duane Rieder, has come out of the recession as a
sort of Renaissance man. He owns a winery, a photography business, the
Roberto Clemente Museum (which contains the world’s largest collection
of memorabilia dedicated to the Pittsburgh Pirates legend and Puerto
Rican hero), and hosts parties of all kinds, all within his
multi-purpose studio, Engine House No. 25. Through his 27 years in the
photography business, he has met some of the biggest names in music and
sports, and has documented moments in time for some of the most prominent
companies in the country, including United Airlines, ESPN, UPMC,
Nationwide Insurance, and Mellon Bank. And if history proves to be an
accurate precursor of things to come, his plans don’t stop there.
Sitting at Sherlock’s in Erie last Saturday, eagerly awaiting a
performance by the Pittsburgh rock band, The Clarks, I spied a bottle of
wine sitting on a merchandise table, upon which was printed a picture
of the band, as well as a familiar logo which read “Engine House no.
25”. This singular bottle of wine encapsulated much of what makes Mr.
Rieder tick, a mashed and fermented blend of his passion for winemaking
and his considerable skill as a photographer. “Technically, it’s not my
wine anymore. I took the picture on the bottle and used to make the
wine, itself, but now it belongs to a former partner,” says the
photographer. It would seem an odd leap, from photography to winemaking,
yet he found a natural connection between the ability to make wine to
fulfill a passion while also using the bottles to promote his art
through the pictures on the labels.
But why, exactly has he diversified so much in recent years, from a
successful photography studio to so much more? “The business has
changed...three-hundred and sixty percent,” he says, with a tone that suggests the enormity of the transformation. “I was lucky that I got in at a good time. In
the early 90’s, business was booming. I would expect $5,000 for a
shoot, and a company would pay $10,000. Nowadays, I could expect $5,000
and get $500”. When asked why this is, he tells it like it is: “the
economy isn’t so good, and with the perfection of the digital camera, it
seems everybody thinks they’re a photographer. Within a company, why
come to me when you have people who will take pictures for free?”. But
Mr. Rieder keeps a remarkably positive attitude about the current state
of the advertising photography business. “I gave a tour of my studio to
some photography students earlier today,” he said during our interview
last night. “One of the main things I tried to stress to these kids is
that you have to keep everything in perspective”. While the photography
business may never again see the boom it experienced in the 1990’s, a
time in which he says Pittsburgh was one of the top advertising cities in the
country, one can ever truly predict the future. This lack of
predictability rings especially true for another subject that is
extremely personal to him: Lawrenceville.
The town of Lawrenceville, much like Mr. Rieder’s business, has changed
significantly since the native of St Mary’s, Pennsylvania purchased
Engine House no. 25, an impressively remodeled fire house, whose history
dates all the way back to 1896. Founded in 1814 by William Barclay
Foster, father of American composer Stephen Foster, Lawrenceville has
seen some hard times in the past few decades. Once the home of the
Allegheny Arsenal, a supply and manufacturing center for the Union
during the Civil War, as well as several mills, Lawrenceville found
itself in considerable disrepair after the decline of Pittsburgh’s steel
industry. But, as Dr. Abby Mendelson, a lecturer at Chatham University
wrote in his 1998 book, “Pittsburgh: A Place In Time”, “Rehabilitation
and reuse is the game now, and Lawrenceville has learned to play it
extremely well”.
“I
was the first person to go to Lawrenceville,” explains Rieder about his
role in reshaping the neighborhood, with pride. “They wanted me to come
in and be a sort of role model for what could be. I opened up
officially in 1996, at the beginning of the movement. There were nights
where my lights would be the only ones on in town”. But now, 17 years
later, that has changed. “We do all sorts of things in [the studio].
We’ve held town hall meetings, shown off the building to potential
investors in the area, allowed them to see what could be done, and help
them get grants and funding”. Nowadays, the studio isn’t the only
building in the neighborhood with its lights on at night, but rather,
it has blended in with the sea of lights from the many newly opened restaurants and other
businesses that have joined the movement of which he has been a part
since the beginning.
Mr. Rieder’s story of perseverance and determination does not run parallel
only with that of his adopted neighborhood of Lawrenceville, but also
with a man known to virtually all Pittsburghers, Major League Baseball
hall of famer, Roberto Clemente, whose family has become very close with
Rieder. From the beginning of his career as a Pittsburgh Pirate until
his untimely death in a mission to bring relief to the
earthquake-ravaged Nicaraguan capital, Managua, Clemente was often
reviled by the local media. Portrayed as a weak-willed foreigner with a
poor grasp on the English language, reporters often resorted to quoting
him exactly as he spoke, in order to make him seem less intelligent than
his English-speaking, and frankly, white teammates. Yet, Clemente used
that negative attention to fuel his outstanding skills as a baseball
player, earning four National League batting titles, 12 Gold Glove
awards, 12 appearances as a National League all-star, and was named the
World Series MVP in 1971, before his death in a plane crash in 1972,
making him one of the most decorated athletes in MLB history, and a hero
to many in Latin America.
When asked how it is that Rieder became so close to the Clemente family,
the answer was, as could be expected, photography. “I was asked in 1994
to do a calendar full of pictures of Clemente. I went to his house in
Puerto Rico, and found that a lot of the photos of him had been damaged
by water, from hurricanes and humidity. I retouched the
photos for the family, preserving them, and was named his official
archivist in 1996”. From
that point, he began accumulating photos and memorabilia of the
superstar, though the idea of setting up the museum didn’t come up to the plate
until 2006, when the Pirates hosted the MLB all-star game. Due to the
legend’s prominent role in Pittsburgh baseball history, the Clemente
family was present, and decided to hold a party for the event. The
family asked that Rieder host the party in his studio, and it was
decided that the building would undergo a bit of a makeover,
transforming the ground floor from a studio into a room dedicated to the
Puerto-Rican star. From there, the ball started rolling, and the
Clemente museum was born.
When asked
about the family’s role in the museum, he says that they have allowed him to
use Clemente’s name, something that the MLB has been unwilling to do in
the decades since his death. Clemente’s likeness has been used countless times by the MLB and
the Pittsburgh Pirates, while his family, including his widow, Vera, has struggled to pay the bills, receiving very little in the form of
compensation for Clemente's contribution to the continued success of the
league.
Aside from spreading knowledge and love
for one of baseball’s true legends, Mr. Rieder aims to assist the Clementes
as much as he can. “There are a lot of things in the museum that are on loan from the
family, which I do to help them out. The MLB and the Pirates
take so much from them without giving back. There are lawyers duking
things out right now over who owns the Clemente name,” he says, though he
respectfully does not elaborate on the subject. It is clear, however,
that the issue is one that is important to Rieder, not only as a person
who grew up a fan of Clemente, but perhaps more importantly as a close
friend of the family.
From
photography and winemaking, to curating a museum and helping give new
life to a community that many had once counted out, as well as working his hardest to raise his family, Duane Rieder has
become a central figure in the constantly-evolving stories of many,
whether it is known to some of them or not. Though a large part of his
life is dedicated to capturing images as they were at a singular moment
in time, his emphasis on moving on with the times shows that he realizes life isn’t a
simple freeze-frame shot. “I diversified after the economy declined,
and split my time 4 ways now, between the photography, wine, museum, and
party business,” he tells me toward the end of our interview. “The
photography is still going strong, and I have a few national clients
still, including Dick’s Sporting Goods and UPMC, but there’s more to it
now”. When asked how he does it, his answer is simple. “I’m a hard
worker. We build all of our sets ourselves, and we do all the photo
editing in-house”. Perhaps, though, the answer for why he has been able
to not only survive in the photography business but to flourish might just be one that can only be
obtained by seeing as much as he has in his career: “perspective”.
One of his most popular photographs, taken during the 2006 Pittsburgh Steelers Season
This is the first time I've written about wrestling here, though not the first time I've written about wrestling in general, nor will it be the last. That said, this should be a good time. I have gone through my down periods as a wrestling fan, not being very invested in the product for long stretches of time, but I've been bitten by the bug again. Throughout those periods though, I always watched Wrestlemania, and I haven't missed one since I became a fan in the 90s. Now that I'm actually following the WWE full-time again, I'm more excited for Wrestlemania than I have been for a long time. So...here's my preview. Hope you like it, the 5 of you who will read it.
Without further adieu, let's move on to the matches! I shall list them in the order of how much I care, starting from least to most. Speaking of not caring...
____________________________________________________________ Pre Show: Singles Match for the Intercontinental Championship: Wade Barrett (C) vs the Miz
If I told you I cared about this match at all, I'd be lying. I think the Miz is one of the worst overall performers in the company, and I loathe everything he does. He's an annoying heel (not in a good way) and an insufferably bad face. If I had to make a comparison, I'd say he's the Rob Schneider of pro wrestling...just terrible. On the other hand, Wade Barrett is pretty cool, I suppose. Solid finishing move, in the Bull Hammer Elbow, but his character has become boring. I'm not going to waste any more time previewing this match, because yes they deserve to die, and I hope they burn in hell.
Predicted winner: nobody. We all lose. Luckily, it's not on the main show. But if I had to pick, I'd say the Miz will win, and we will all be worse off for it.
____________________________________________________________ Eight Person Mixed Tag Match: Tons of Funk and the Funkadactyls vs Team Rhodes Scholars and the Bella Twins
Brodus Clayis bad. Albert/A-Train/Lord Tensai/Tensai/Sweet-T is bad. Cody Rhodes is good. Damien Sandow is one of my favorite wrestlers, and YOUR intellectual savior. YOU'RE WELCOME. In other words, the latter two deserve something better. But what we've got here is failure to communicate. And then we get what we have here, which is the way He (Vince McMahon) wants it. Well...he gets it! I don't like it any more than you men. Also, the Bella Twins are, to put it delicately, ugly women who allegedly performed sexual acts with Johnny Ace to keep their job, so hooray for Hollywood.
Predicted winners: Tons of Junk. This match has no implications, so there's no reason to make the little kids in the audience, to whom TOF is marketed, sad. So they'll make me sad instead.
____________________________________________________________ Tag Match for the Tag Team Championship: Team Hell No (Daniel Bryan and Kane) (C) vs Dolph Ziggler and Big E. Langston
Finally a match I'm reasonably excited for. I'm interested in seeing how Langston handles himself in his in-ring debut on "the grandest stage of 'em all". I'm also interested in seeing if the belts are finally removed from Kane and Daniel Bryan. Their team started off fresh and exciting, and was one of the better parts of the show at the beginning. I looked forward to seeing them every night. But it's gotten to the point where I am indifferent about them. I think it's time for Daniel Bryan and Kane to go their separate ways. If they lose here, I expect them to face each other at Extreme Rules, and then end up in what will hopefully be a revitalized Intercontinental Title picture. Preferably, it would be Miz vs Bryan for the title at Summerslam. They have the history to make it a decent storyline.
On the other hand, I'm predicting that it will be a big night for Dolph Ziggler.... Predicted Winners and NEW Tag Team Champions: Dolph Ziggler and Big E. Langston
_____________________________________________________________ Singles Match: Chris Jericho vs Fandango
Why have I placed this match here, in terms of my overall excitement? Because Chris Jericho brings it every night. I don't know anything about Fandango except the fact that his gimmick amuses me somewhat. But Jericho pulling out a good match is a given. There's no better opponent Fandango could have for his "first" WWE match.
Predicted Winner: Fandango. It could go either way, though. I just think they'll put Fandango over to make him look strong in his debut.
_____________________________________________________________ 6 Man Tag Match: The New Avengers vs The Shield
Is the Big Show a face? Is he a heel? Nobody knows. But by the end of this match, Randy Orton will have laid out a teammate (likely Sheamus) in order to start a feud with him and become a heel. I don't care about Sheamus, Show, or Orton. I think Orton has always been dry-toast bland, Sheamus is a product of the town time a few years ago when a "star" was needed, and the Big Show shouldn't ever be anything but an unstoppable monster.
But...the Shield. The Shield is awesome. They'll win for sure, because there is no reason why they shouldn't. At all. Not one.
Predicted Winner: The Shield. Winner, not winners, because the Shield is a singular entity of awesome.
_____________________________________________________________ Singles Match: Ryback vs Mark Henry
I'm a big Ryback fan, because who doesn't like an overly intense bald guy who does things like throw Santino Marella out of the ring like he was a baseball? Mark Henry's also been good lately, which is something I've never said before. This match is going to be very, very ugly. They'll beat the hell out of each other, and it'll be pretty entertaining. But the excitement comes solely from wondering if Ryback can deliver the Shellshock to Mizzark. I'd be willing to bet they're practicing it right now. If he does go for it tomorrow, assume Ryback has successfully done it to Henry about 10 times in preparation. Ain't nobody got time for a HUGE botch at Wrestlemania.
Predicted winner: Ryback. Take it to the bank.
_____________________________________________________________ Singles Match for the World Heavyweight Title: Alberto Del Rio (C) w/ Ricardo Rodriguez vs Jack Swagger w/ Yosemite Sam
I like Del Rio a lot, and I think Rodriguez is awesome. I don't think Del Rio has as much positive heat as he should, and I think it has a bit to do with him not chasing the title anymore. He was very over when he was feuding with the Big Show, because he was either chasing the title or had just won it, so the luster hadn't worn off. It doesn't help, either, that he is facing Jack Swagger, who has as much personality as Lance Storm, but lacks an ounce of the talent Storm had. But fear not, because this match doesn't matter at all, or so I hope.
Predicted Winner: Alberto Del Rio. Getting arrested for marijuana possession won't help you win the belt at Wrestlemania, Swagger. Enjoy the midcard after this.
I don't care about this match, but I listed it here for two reasons:
first, it's the world heavyweight championship, so it deserves to be
listed here. The second reason....
After the match, Dolph Ziggler will cash in his contract and pin Del Rio for the World Heavyweight Championship! With the tag belts and WHC, Ziggler will become one of the most prominent wrestlers in the WWE, and his character will work well with Del Rio in the feud that will follow. AND it'll get Del Rio over again. I love it. I'm a genius.
____________________________________________________________ Singles Match for the WWE Title: The Rock (C) vs John Cena
I'm having a lot of trouble choosing which matches should be ranked where, at this point. The remaining three are all going to be awesome. John Cena is one of the best in-ring performers in the WWE right now, and I can't even boo him anymore because of it. He's a bit cheesy, for sure, and isn't a badass like the 18-death male demographic would wish, but he's had phenomenal matches against pretty much every opponent he's faced in the last year or so. The Rock, on the other hand, has been bland, hasn't been on a lot of shows, and is just sort of...there. But the Great One will bring it at Wresltemania, in front of the millions....AND MILLIONS....of the Rock's fans. IF YA SMELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL WHAT THE ROCK. IS. COOKIN'.
Predicted Winner: The Rock
I had picked Cena as the winner until....30 seconds ago. But then I remembered that the Rock is advertised for the Extreme Rules pay per view. I think the Rock will win here, John Cena will go nuts, beat the hell out of the Rock post-match, and turn heel finally. If that doesn't happen, Cena will win outright. So I really don't have a clue with this one. But I'm looking forward to it.
Edit: apparently The Rock is no longer being advertised at Extreme Rules, so you can pretty much guarantee John Cena will win tonight. I'm ok with this, too.
__________________________________________________________ Singles match: The Undertaker vs CM Punk w/ Paul Heyman
The Undertaker has had the best match at the last 4 Wrestlemanias. Two of them with Shawn Michaels, two of them with HHH, and here, he might just have the best match of the night with CM Punk. The Undertaker knows how to put together an impeccable match, and CM Punk is the BEST IN THE WORLD. One of the best things about the Undertaker's streak is that it has become sort of unpredictable. Last year, I thought HHH might beat him at some point during the match. I never felt that way leading up to it, but in the match, it seemed like it was going to happen. This year, I'm feeling that way going in. Do I believe the streak will end? Nope. But do I have my doubts? Very much so.
Predicted Winner: The Undertaker. The Streak goes to 21-0 at Wrestlemania.
__________________________________________________________ No Holds Barred Match: HHH w/ Shawn Michaels vs Brock Lesnar w/ Paul Heyman
This is going to be a slugfest. There'll be chairs, someone's going through the Spanish announce table, the sledgehammer will show up, and HHH will come to the ring dressed as Thor. These things are all guaranteed. This might be the most exciting match on the show, and I'm through the roof excited about it. But wait...I'm not just excited because of the match, itself. I'm excited because Shawn Michaels will be there. And he won't just be standing in HHH's corner, no no. He'll be involved.
My big prediction for Wrestlemania 29 is that Shawn Michaels will cost HHH the match and his career, either by fully turning on HHH or throwing in the towel, ending a merciless beating from Lesnar. This will set up Shawn Michaels vs HHH at Wrestlemania 30.
So there you have it: my predictions for tonight's show. Some people are saying it's too predictable, but that isn't a problem. Sometimes predictability and giving fans what they want is the best thing you can do. I don't think there is much of a chance for a big upset tonight, and I'm ok with that. Wrestlemania is always a special night, and for those of us who aren't too cool to enjoy something like professional wrestling, it will be a great four hours. I've got my chips and dip ready, my subway sandwich has hot sauce on it, and I can't wait for the heartburn that will follow.
In the words of Celebrity Deathmatch's own Johnny Gomez, good fight, good night.
