Earlier today, we talked about how I’m planning on starting New Year’s Day. What I’m having some trouble with is what happens later. The last two years, we’ve come home from the post-swim mean and parked on the couch. There is food, sure, but the big deal? January 1 is college football’s holy day and… Read More 77. torn.
2010: EDIT: 2010, via Rob: 2009: I envision this year to be much the same: Show up at the Mon Wharf around 8:30 or 8:45, get everybody gathered, jump in at 9:30 and then go somewhere for beverages and food (Hard Rock? Ruggers?) We’re a bit too far out from Jan. 1 to be able… Read More 76. time to swim.
He struck out 15 in his first start. He was 17 years old. He willingly enlisted in the Navy at the start of World War II. He was the first Major Leaguer to do so, and he gave up four years of his prime to do it. In the off seasons, he led baseball barnstorming… Read More 75. van meter heater.
It’s Mrs. Crappy’s birthday today. She’s just two months younger than I am, and I continually wonder if we’ll ever get to the point where we’ll start acting our ages. The answer I always come up with? Jeez, I hope not.
A while back, my friend Kim asked me if I would contribute to a new series at a sports blog where her posts show up once in a while. The blog, Draft Day Suit, was looking for contributors to a bunch of posts titled Why I Love… This is an easy one for Uncle Crappy,… Read More 73. homage.
Getting myself back to work on Sunday after more than a week away was tough. But I arrived to some surprises which made the return a little bit easier. Sitting on my desk when I walked in the newsroom: This very old mini-bar bottle of Bacardi has been passed around the newsroom for years. I… Read More 72. welcome back.
Uncle Crappy 