It’s Friday: Go Away.

Final Score:  Gut 1, Jersey 0.

Final Score: Gut 1, Jersey 0.

Huge Weekend.  Not really.  There’s not even an MMA fight of note.  There goes about a 1000 hits a day.  The UFC did announce that Brock Lesnar (the wrestling guy) will face Shane Carwin (don’t worry about it) in November.  That’s about all the UFC I can handle this Friday.  There’s other stuff, though, don’t panic.

We Got Huge Baseball Match-ups.  Of particular concern to the Phillies would be the Giants/Rockies series.  Now, I listen to everything Tim Kirkjian says.  The guy works for ESPN, and he says the Rockies have too much offensive firepower for the Giants.  Hmmm…my playoff prediction post tabbed the Giants.  Do I root for my own prognostication or the better match-up for the Phillies in the playoffs.  Um, Let’s go Rockies.  Sanchez v. Cook in the opener tonight at 9:10 Eastern. 

The Red Sox have a huge weekend series with the Yankees.  I’m sure most Sox fans, knowing them as pessimistic and overly dramatic, have already given up any hope of catching NY.  Fair enough, but another beating at the hands of the Yanks, and they’re likely to be looking up at the Rangers in the wild-card race.  The Sox send Brad Penny to the hill to try to break the four game skid against New York, who counters with Andy Pettitte.  Good news for Boston fans is that Texas is playing Tampa Bay, and a loss by either of these teams doesn’t hurt. 

In what should have been a big series, the Phillies head to New York to take on the Mets.  I thought the Mets had cancelled the season when David Wright got beaned last week, but apparently they can still field nine guys.  It’s a shame that this series means virtually nothing with the Mets camped out in 4th place 14.5 out.  That’s a funny number isn’t it?  The rivalry takes a little hit, but tune in to see if Werth and Howard will continue to launch homers at obscene rates.  First victim?  Mike Pelfrey tonight at 7.  As an aside I single handedly rejuvinated my centsports account betting the Phillies (-1.5) through the whole D-Backs series.  Brilliant. 

Lastly, and clearly most importantly, we’re on a luke warm Fred watch for the weekend.  Fred got off to a late start this afternoon, and the second round will probably not be completed today in Greensboro.  Fred’s still sitting at 4-under, and probably needs to get it to seven to be considered in the hunt.  The scores are going to be low, which is never great news for Fred who doesn’t make enough putts to take it deep for four days.  He seems to be hitting it well enough to hang around, though.  Sergio, Glover, Daly…it could be a worse board.  Also, don’t forget to get patriotic, and root in the ladies against Europe.  Solheim Cup Fever, catch it.  I mean, I’ll probably watch. 

If it was Wednesday, I’d go get a G&T, but since it isn’t I guess I’ll just chug a bottle of NyQuil, and call it a week.  Thanks for the visits and comments.  See you all Mondee.


Anecdote 13

Didn't Read this Book.

Didn't Read this Book.

Everyone in their life has had teacher’s they don’t like.  I’ve had a dozen.  I can’t think of one influential college professor I had in four years at the ole’ F&M.  I’m always astonished by these people who describe these glorious teacher/student relationships.  Usually I’m thinking they must have been sleeping together.  I’m joking, a little, but really I either have very high standards to be motivated or I’ve had a lot of really bad teachers.  I’m biased, so I won’t say which, but usually instead of being motivated by teachers, I just fueded with them.  My year-long struggle with the extraordinary ass hat that taught me European History is the subject of Anecdote 13. 

So, I’m headed into my junior year of high school.  I’ve begun taking some of these “AP” classes, which then and still now seem like a crazy scheme.  They’re supposed to simulate college level courses, and then you take a test to try to place out of college classes.  I never took the tests, and thank god.  What would my GPA have looked like if I couldn’t have rehashed a half-dozen classes I already took.  So, since these classes had high opinions of themselves, they did crazy things like give you summer work. 

Now, I’ve never heard of having to do work over the summer while in college, so naturally I balked at this idea.  We were supposed to read some book, and then do some other reading comphrehension quiz.  I did my usual.  Zip.  Zero.  Nothing.  We stroll into class the first day, and all the dorks are comparing answers on everything, and I’m just looking at a blank answer sheet and a virgin binding on the book I was supposed to have read.  The mullet teacher starts collecting stuff, and I don’t have anything to hand in (obviously).  Now, what I’m about to tell everyone is the key to these situations.  You have to own it.  Don’t panic, don’t come up with an excuse.  You can go for a crazy look in your eye, maybe sarcasm, “Does it look done?”…but never grovel. 

So, the teacher, pompous clown, whatever you want to call him is furious.  I’ve disrespected him and the rest of the class.  Maybe him, but I took a quick and informal poll of the rest of the class, and they seemed fine.  He takes me out into the hall like I’m four years old, and asks me if I want to be in the class.  I say yes, because my nerd friends are in the class, and I don’t want to take European History for people of normal intelligence.  He asks if I’m going to make up the work.  Another key.  Pause for a beat, “Probably not”.   This blows his mind.   He writes me a pass to the guidance office so I can drop the class.  I take the pass, wander around the halls for a few minutes, and come back.  No words exchanged.  I just sit down.  Maybe another crazy look.  Check mate. 

I think he gave me a “D” on my summer work, which was pretty good considering I didn’t do it, and I got to stay in the class, but the hatred grew.  As we did work during the actual school year my grades were good, and the “D” was long since erased, and I think it frustrated him to no end.  He wanted to fail me so badly, but he couldn’t.  He was always looking for ways to ruin my grade, and I was always keeping myself amused by lighting him up behind his back, and writing song parodies about him that kept the rest of the class on my side.  Personal favorite was titled, “Hot Pink Shirt.”

Anyway, our last showdown came over the research paper we had to write.  This was supposed to be the big college-style paper that would ready us for higher academia.  Maybe if you got a basketball scholarship to Memphis it would have prepared you, but not for any respectable college.  So, the guy posts a lists of topics, and you can start signing up at 8 am some morning.  Clearly, I’m not there.  By the time class rolls around, there’s almost no topics left, so at that point i’m obviously like, F it.  The list stays up for a few more days, and finally he calls me in the hall again. 

Why haven’t I signed up for anything?  I’m the only one that didn’t sign up (showoff). I tell him I wanted to make sure everyone else got their pick.  See, that’s what a leader is.  He doesn’t love this answer, so then I shift sarcasm gears.  I say, “Well, I figured you’d put enough topics up there for everyone, so I didn’t see the need to rush.”  He kind of starts shaking, and then tells me I have the Glorious Revolution of 1688.  The what?   It was without a doubt, the worst topic I could have ever gotten. 

He made us do a rough draft, hawking us every step of the way, so we couldn’t get behind.  It was maddening.  A procrastinator’s nightmare.  I did the entire thing with books from the Exton library, which has slightly fewer volumes than my living room.  I think the book I used most was basically a precursor to those “For Dummies” books.  It was like a giant European history comic book.  It’s not easy to get 15 pages out of something like that, but I did, and came up with a dozen other sources that I may or may not have read. 

When I turned it in, the only thing he could take off for was that it wasn’t printed “dark” enough for him.  This was the glory days.  I had a dot matrix printer.  So, at the beginning of the year he told me my papers were printed too lightly, and naturally I then just kept using the same ribbon for the whole year.  I guess he finally cracked when I handed in the last paper.  Pretty hilarious. 

So, the moral of the anecdote is, never give an inch to a high school teacher.  They’re not going to do anything.  And, if they don’t inspire you in life, maybe they’ll inspire you to write an anecdote down the road.