My friend Doc has worked for the Syracuse University Athletic Department for each one of the 34 years I’ve known him. But if you were to contact SU, they’d tell you they’ve never met him. They really should make the effort, for Doc has been the best unpaid PR agent the Orangemen have ever had.

Many years ago Doc relocated to New England for reasons of love and money, but that hasn’t deterred him from his appointed rounds as Diehard. Should anyone doubt his passion, consider the following…

Immediately upon moving to Rhode Island, Doc applied for and was delighted to receive license plates that read “ORANGE”. When the time inevitably came for him to get a new car, he did his research and negotiated a sweet deal on a leased vehicle. Except for one tiny thing. Almost as an afterthought, he was told that he wouldn’t be able to transfer his existing plates to the leased car.

Houston, we have a problem.

A team of diplomats worked through the night to find common ground, before the dealer finally caved in and agreed to tackle the administrative red tape necessary to keep Doc and his ORANGE plates together.

Hearing this story didn’t faze me (or anyone else who knows Doc) in the least.
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…Continued from the previous post.

It was a brisk 18 degrees outside, but inside Springfield College’s Blake Arena, I was sweating bullets.

Halfway through a highly entertaining gymnastics meet, Ithaca College was clinging to a lead of less than one point over their host, Springfield College. And the outcome of this Alma Mater Battle Royale would impact my life for the next month. Should The Bird’s Springfield Pride come back to win, I was staring at some hard time on the business end of a bag of Tidy Cat. If my Bombers were to hold on though, my nightly kitchen clean-up routine would be a thing of the past – well, for 30 days, anyway.

And no matter the outcome, this whole thing had to be over in less than an hour, or I would miss the end of the January Thaw skeedskating event taking place across the state line in Hartford. Which, according to the strict bylaws of the “It’s Game Time Somewhere” Tour, would prohibit me from claiming it as an official Tour event.

Many would crumble under this kind of pressure. Then again, many more would think the whole thing pretty silly. The IGTS Tour has that kind of polarizing effect on people.   
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…Continued from the previous post.

You have to understand. This was not just another sporting event. And I’m not just saying that because I arrived screaming into the parking lot on two wheels, trying to extricate myself from a double-booking fiasco.

No, this event had other, more critical consequences.

“What could possibly be so important about a women’s gymnastics meet between two Division III colleges?” you may ask.

It’s quite simple. The meet in question matched the Springfield College Pride against the Ithaca College Bombers. I am an Ithaca alum. The Bird has a sheepskin from Springfield. This was epic mano a (wo)mano stuff. But it was not just for bragging rights – chores were on the line.

If Ithaca were to win, it would mean no dishwashing duties for a month for yours truly. If Springfield won, I would inherit litter box detail. See what I mean? Big. HUGE.
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This is a first. I went to a sporting event and I don’t know who won.

Given that I’m a semi-trained, quasi-professional sports-watcher, this is a bit embarrassing to admit. But I have a plausible defense – nobody at the USC vs. UC Santa Barbara dual swim meet I attended recently ever made mention of a winning team. I wasn’t even positive they were keeping score.

Let me tell you about my day, and let you decide if I am guilty of Negligent Spectating…

First of all, I know I’ve previously gone on record proclaiming that ALL aquatic events should be conducted outside – but I was young and foolish then. It was the sunshine and 75 degrees talking. It was now January however, and I was wearing layers to an outdoor aquatic event. Be careful what you ask for.
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The college bowl game system is an acquired taste. Much like Limburger cheese. Those that favor it can’t say enough good things about it. To everyone else it stinks to high heaven.

Consider this:  Almost every single organized sport known to man plays their exhibition games at the beginning of the season. College football chooses to do so at the end. Why?

Two reasons.

First, what else are they going to do in the absence of real live playoffs? You know, the kind that virtually every other organized sport engages in?

Second, in a clandestine meeting held decades ago, the mayors of every city that houses a major university resolved the following:  For just one week each winter, their respective student bodies should get obnoxiously drunk and throw up in somebody else’s town for a change.

And thus the bowl system was born.
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