Just a few questions

After months of secrecy and deceit, the child is coming. It's exciting news for sure, but the American public has a lot of questions for the Schaible couple. Like, when bearing gifts for the new child, should we bring gold, frankincense or myrrh?

The biggest query I have is the name. Will the Schaibles go the celebrity route and choose a name like Baseball Prospectus Schaible or Coffee Coolatta Schaible? No one knows. There was less secrecy to the Osama bin Laden mission than with this baby's potential name. Here are a few guesses of mine ...

1. They could do the right thing and name the child after me. I'd be honored if a baby boy was named Stephen Steve Schaible. In the case of a girl, Stephanie Steve Schaible would be acceptable.
2. Another possibility would be to honor Jeff's best friends from college with Vishal French Schaible. A diverse name for sure. He'd easily make it to Harvard.
3. For a girl, the Schaibles could get lazy. Hey, it's been a hectic few months. So Emily Emily Schaible has a nice ring to it.
4. Since the parents really got to know each other at the Boston Globe sports department, honoring that wonderful dream maker would be appropriate. MIAA High School Roundup Schaible? Wintext Sport Joe Schaible? The possibilities ...

The smart Vegas money had to be on smooth, one-syllable name, especially for a boy. Dave. Bill. Tom. Joe. Something that would fit easily on the lists of Bristol, Connecticut's finest country clubs 50 years from now.

In the instance that the child is a girl, the field of names if wide open. I wouldn't know where to begin. It's not unlike the field of candidates for the Republican convention, except the fetus probably accepts evolution and climate change by now.

Now, there are other questions I've been hearing. Such as: Where is the birth certificate? The fact that the baby hasn't been born yet is not enough to deter certain conspiracy theorists on the web. Other issues ...

1. When will the child have a Facebook account?
2. By what age will the kid have a fastball that is better than mine? Five or six is the guess, boy or girl.
3. Which baseball team will be the kid's favorite, Red Sox or Yankees? Or will the kid rebel against his/her parents and hate baseball and love other activities, like clapping at a movie theater to movies like "Tree of Life?" By the way, what is "Tree of Life?" A sequel to the "Lord of the Rings?" I'm really out of the loop on this one.
4. Which website will the child use for his/her Fantasy games, because you can't beat the top notch product at CBSSports.com!

At least a few of these questions should be answered very shortly.

A happy blog ... Siriusly

I am a customer of satellite radio.

Yay!!!

Just a couple of weeks ago I splurged on Sirius XM radio, and my review is in .... FOUR STARS.

Instead of listening to the same CD on an endless loop to avoid the horrid terrestrial radio down here, I can enjoy Lithium - otherwise known as Satellite WBRU.

I broadened my musical horizons, going from classic rock all the way to independent rock. I can listen to Michael Kay or Jason Ellis. I can listen to gospel or 50's hits. There's even a Pearl Jam station, which mostly plays live stuff, but still. All Pearl Jam, all the time.

They even provide me with with the syringe of liberal propaganda I can shoot into my death-tax loving veins with America Left. And the dulcet tones of NPR if I ever need to fall asleep while driving.

I often find myself angry when I arrive at my destination now because a song I like is coming on. That NEVER happened before.

In addition, it brings back a few memories with some of their out-of-left-field selections. A few days ago, one station played "Fit But You Know It" from The Streets. A call-back from the college years. Maybe if I listen to the Spectrum station long enough, they'll throw up some JJ72.

And when they overplay a song, at least they overplay a good one. For some reason, I've heard "Thirty-three" from Smashing Pumpkins several times. They love that tune. So do I. Beats hearing Beastie Boys for sure.

One thing I worry about is the actual radio itself. I fear it sends a "Steal Me" signal to the local thieves running about in Florida. So I always detach the actual radio and stash it unseen to prying eyes inside my car. Paranoid? Or not enough? I don't know. It's my new puppy and I don't want anything bad to happen to it.

Anyway, just wanted to let y'all know how much I love having satellite radio. I needed to write a happy, uplifting blog entry anyway.

It's spring again

I've been in Grapefruit League country for over three years, yet not once have I traveled to Fort Myers to see the Red Sox in spring training. Once the Red Sox signed Marco Scutaro and Boof Bonser, the trip just planned itself. Destiny. Fate. Boof.

Unfortunately, there was no Boof Bonser action Thursday night. Instead, I was treated to a parade of stiffs like Josh Beckett, Jonathan Papelbon, Daniel Bard and Hideki Okajima.

But before I get to the game, let me give you an overview of the lovely town of Fort Myers: The City of Palms. I drove 2 1/2 hours through Alligator Alley to arrive at Worcester: South West. Like the Athens of Massachusetts, downtown Fort Myers is clean, but lifeless. At least the parts I saw. Like certain mole people towns, like Mariposa, California, Fort Myers has all its important institutions within on square mile of each other. The newspaper is right next to the fire department which is right next to police headquarters which is right across the way from the "center of justice."

All that was missing was the town saloon.

Also, it was damn cold. In the 50s and 40s. Weather unfit for human experience, I must say.

I arrived at the ballpark a good hour and a half before the first pitch so I could eat a horrifically overpriced "dinner" that would devour my small intestine like Rasheed Wallace devours cheddar burgers before games. The park is your typical spring training facility: nice and cozy with reasonable parking and small-town charm. I would provide pictures, but I forgot my camera. Just imagine a field shaped like a diamond with green grass, walls in the outfield and lots of spit.

Boston's opponent, the Minnesota Twins, struck first in the first inning. 1-0. Game over Another 14-2 Sears rout, right?

Not with these Red Sox.

Dustin Pedroia knocked in someone named Darnell McDonald in the sixth, tying it 1-1. During all this action, I struck up a conversation with a stranger sitting next to me. You might be thinking this is dangerous, but there were other adults around. The man is a local dentist who is a fan of CBSSports.com. (But then again, who isn't?) The guy has been to about every major sporting event in American history. Nineteen straight Final Fours. Almost 20 Masters. The last Super Bowl. Every Florida Gators football game, including both championships. He must be a very successful dentist.

His buddy, who had a nice Southern twang, is an ACC football official who knows Daniel Bard's fiancee. They both know an NFL official who worked the Pats-Giants Super Bowl. He was the sidejudge that game. I was not very interested in discussing that, but overall, they were very interesting. More interesting than I.

In the 8th inning, Sox catching prospect Mark Wagner put Boston ahead with a single. He doesn't know the rule that the Sox must lose any game I attend. Before the 9th started, I left to go to the bathroom, came back and my new friends were gone. Just like that. So much for the dentist and the ACC official, who is a veterinarian. Just thought I'd throw that in.

Oh well. Joe Nelson closed it out and everyone went home happy, save for a few Twins fans. A preview of the season, eh? 2-1. We might be seeing that score a lot this season. Overall, I'd say my first Red Sox spring training game was a success. They didn't lost 20-2 and Eric Gagne was thousands of miles away.

Note: He blew the lead in the last Red Sox game I attended.

Before I go to bed at the early (for me) hour of 2 a.m. ... there was a Northeastern billboard in right field. Too bad 75 percent of the fans at the game were older than 50. Money well spent.

Counting down

Let's run down the Year 2009, sports-wise.


In January, Tim Tebow and the Florida Gators won a national championship, emboldening their obnoxious fans here in South Florida. Also, the Patriots lost the AFC East on a 15th tiebreaker. Then the Steelers won the Super Bowl. Not as bad as the Colts winning it, but still bad.

In February, as a right of passage, Northeastern loses the Beanpot final to BU. I think we'll be seeing that again in 2010.


Fast-forward to the spring. Kevin Garnett misses the playoffs and the Celtics lose their chance to defend their title. The Lakers go on to win the title and Kobe Bryant is Mr. Good Guy again. The Bruins, the No. 1 seed in the playoffs, lose in overtime in Game 7.


The summer comes and the Yankees vault ahead of the Red Sox in the AL East. The Red Sox lose 9 of their last 10 games to their rivals and miss out on the division. They make the playoffs and are promptly swept, losing the last game in gut-wrenching fashion. The Yankees roll through the playoffs and win the World Series, abusing Pedro Martinez in the final game just for kicks.

The Indianapolis Colts - my second most despised team - are 11-0 and miraculously beat the Patriots two weeks ago. One man's miracle is another man's catastrophe. Meanwhile, the Pats keep losing high-profile games while we keep waiting for them to improve based on what they did with better talent several years ago.

The Cliff Notes version of this wretched year. Yankees win. Steelers win. Lakers win. Colts undefeated. Derek Jeter: Sportsman of the Year. A-Rod: Postseason hero. Kobe Bryant: Defending champion and awesome person. Florida Gators: Soon-to-be repeat champions. Northeastern football: Over.

At least Cranston East beat Cranston West on Thanksgiving. Go Thunderbolt! And at least we have health care reform. Oh wait, that's coming in 2039.

The 2000s were specatcular for Boston fans. It couldn't last forever, as 2009 has continued to show again and again. So now it is Dec. 1st and the year is almost over. Thank God. It can't end soon enough.

So long. Farewell.

Only now can I summon the willpower to comment on the demise of the great Northeastern University football program.


A pigskin machine that produced the likes of Liam Ezekiel and Don Brown is gone. Poof! Like it never existed. With Northeastern football's departure, jobs are lost and dreams are deferred and a once-proud school loses its soul.




I can't help but think I had something to do with this. I like football and yet I attended just one game in my five years at Huntington Ave./Hemenway Ave./Columbus Ave/Byner Street/Parkway Road. My senior year, I lived within a five minute stroll through the leafy streets of Brookline from the great Parsons Field. Five minutes. Yet, just one game.


Students such as myself and many others have nothing to blame but our own apathy for this tragic news.


The one game I did see was against William & Mary. The field was worthy of a decent high school team with cheap bleachers and lousy player facilities (and by facilities, I mean no facilities at all. Opposing players often came dressed in their uniforms). It was at this game that one Zebediah Chartwells Hossem attacked an innocent old man for a free Northeastern t-shirt. It was a vicious assault, and I bet the old man was ready to donate billions to the program, ala T. Boone Pickens, but changed his mind after witnessing such brutality from a dishevled, menacing, technicolor scarf-wearing pseudo-terrorist.


My fault, too. I just stood there.


Sure, there were many issues with Husky football. First, no one cared. Second, no one gave a shit. Third, what's Husky football?


Parsons Field is a 20 minute ride from campus. The elusive Columbus Ave. Stadium never materialized, so the best option for home games was a surrounding suburb well out of the way in a field most fans can generously describe as "sucky."


It also never helped that the team sucked. There was that one good year in 2002 when they made the playoffs, but it was one-and-done. A run then could have set up a nice future, but it was never meant to be. From then on, 2-8 and 1-9 records have been the norm. Northeastern fans demand success and the football program rarely delivered. So they watched the hockey team lose to BU instead. At least the games are located close to campus.


Perhaps if I had joined the football team and blessed them with my speed, toughness (I could definitely play through a common cold) and strong arm, then the Huskies would have piled up the necessary wins to draw attention. Instead, I chose the great Vin Books dynasty at PlayStation Duke.


So sue me if you must. You have all your NU football jerseys and souvenir helmets and you don't know what to do with them. Lash out at me if you must. I deserve it. In my defense, I worked Saturdays in the fall and football isn't my best sport (that would ping-pong). Still, no excuse.


But before you point the finger at me, inspect thine self. All of Northeastern Nation is responsible for this. Our apathy. Our neglect. Our "sieve" chants. Our co-ops. Our Saturday morning hangovers (from playing six hours of Madden on a Friday night. That's what a hangover is, right?)


We're all guilty. We have red and black blood on our hands. We dug the grave. The Athletic Department just dumped the body.

It's a hard-knock life for Aoun

It's a tough world out there and $590,000 just does not go as far as it used to. You ever live in Boston? It's expensive! Faberge eggs just don't bring themselves into your living room. Gold watches just don't leap onto your wrists.

So count me in as someone who fully supports Northeastern University giving President Joseph Aoun a 25% raise. When times are tough, give rich people huge raises.

Of course, the Obama-licking, Olbermann-watching, fetus-killing sycophants on Huntington Avenue are raising a stink about this. "You lay people off, raise tuition and then give a guy who doesn't have to pay for his swanky Boston home a gigantic pay increase?" they will complain. They may even take time off from their Twilight watching to hold a vigil or protest. They'll burn candles for economic justice.

How cute.

While the indentured students cry into their coffees, President Aoun will burn thousand-dollar bills just to heat some cat food. While the Huntington News pisses against the wind, Aoun will spend $200,000 to purchase another consonant for his last name. And God bless him.

Lately, a troubling trend has emerged. The commoners don't like the rich anymore. In America, we used to dream of being rich so we didn't mind when they inserted their gold-encrusted rods straight up our collective rectums. The plebeians never used to mind waiting under the table like a dog hoping for some crumbs to trickle down their way. They used to be grateful for those crumbs. Not anymore.

What they fail to understand is that it's not easy being rich. It ain't easy getting a raise for doing nothing. There's more responsibility. More taxes. You have to find another parking space for the luxury car reserved just for bi-weekly grocery shopping at Whole Foods. You have to go through all the trouble of upgrading a 50-inch plasma TV to a theater-size entertainment system. That's a lot of work to pay other people to do.

I bet if you ask President Aoun, he'd gladly just give his money away. But great people don't shy away from such responsibility; they embrace it. I bet he wishes he had to take a third job just to pay for a semester's worth of books. Working menial jobs is so romantic, so American. The more soulless jobs you have, the better. Aoun regrets he has but one job to give to his country.

Furthermore, you know how much time it must take to figure what to do with all that money? Days, weeks even. So don't you dare complain until you know what it's like.

No one forced these whiners to go to a college that is at least the fourth best school in Boston. To be the fourth-best, you must pay like the best. The Board of Trustees know this. I trust them. They are Trustees. Trust is in their name. Money is their game. Ours is to pay them that money until we die, and it's a privilege to do so.

So I stand with President Aoun. Solidarity, my man! Fight the little machine! Please, Northeastern, send me requests for alumni donations. Screw typhoon victims and kids with cancer. They've been sucking the charity teat for far too long. I want to donate to a worthy cause -- a university president closing in on a million-dollar salary while the economy floats in the toilet.

Because when times are tough, we can only rely on the wealthy to lead us out of the abyss. They know the way out because they got us there. Let them do their thing. Let them make as much money as they want and shut up.

And for those jogging-pants wearing, iPod-listening, Farmville-playing paupers, I think the President and I have one thing to say.

Let them eat Ramen Noodles.