Last July (2008) a plethora of poker pugilists gathered regularly to test their skills in a semi-weekly contest of skill and luck. The season ended with a solid victory for .com and the summer of 2009 started with another season of the...
... July Poker League!
Without any further ado, here's how things kicked off.
July Poker League 2009 - Game #1
The players convened at Daffy's place. .com, the reigning champion, was originally going to be a no-show but did arrive from Queens. As a result, it was decided that tonight's action would indeed count as game 1.
The rules were reviewed. Each week, the top five finishers would receive 10, 7, 5, 3 and 1 points respectively, and at the end of the season the top finishers will receive bonus money which is built with each event. Two extra bonus points are possible each week: 1 for knocking off the current points leader, and 1 for knocking off last week's winner. So, it was decided that .com would have a 1 point bounty on his head. Finally, winning a hand while holding 2-7 means that anybody who was dealt cards that hand must pay the winner $1 cash.
10 players took the table: True, Karma, Lady Luck, Zeus, .com, Pads, My Choice, Daffy, Chick, and a newcomer to this season: "Hoboken", brother to Chick and Daffy. Hoboken missed all of last season.
Play started in a traditional fashion. The only two things that made tonight notable were that Michael Jackson music was on in the background for a large portion of the game, and Pads had crutches and seating issues to be accommodated because he had knee surgery a week before the game.
Play started and chips shuffled slowly around the table. Hoboken built up a stack with aggressive play. Eventually, True and Karma (who will be married in a couple of months!) went out in 10th and 9th place, respectively.
Lady Luck's luck ran a little short and he finished in 8th. Hoboken, who's aggressive play also cost him some big pots, lost a large number of chips to Zeus and subsequently went out in 7th place.
Zeus lost a couple of tough large pots and finished in 6th place, a large number of his chips going to Pads.
Now down to a tough five, the players had to break from playing. Without getting too graphic, Pads' medication was playing games with his stomach and needed a break.
Finally, play commenced. Daffy, who was running short in chips for a while but managed to stay in the game, finally succumbed and finished in 5th place. He did, however, take down a nice pot with 2-7 earlier to win a few bucks from the table.
.com, who played tight solid poker as usual, looked remarkably awake as he coasted into 4th place, earning his first points of the new season.
Chick, who had quietly stuck around solidly all night and seemed to avoid major fireworks, went out in 3rd place.
Brothers Pads and My Choice went heads up with chip stacks tough to stack and swinging wildly back and forth. Finally, My Choice emerged victorious. He was also responsible for the knockout of .com to earn 11 points for the night. He did lose $1 to Pads though, as Pads won a heads-up hand with 2-7 - a small token for Pads for a 2nd place night.
The schedule of future games seems like it is still being worked out, but Game #2 will commence Thursday night, July 2. Shuffle up and deal!
Standings:
My Choice: 11 (11)
Pads: 7 (7)
Chick: 5 (5)
.com: 3 (3)
Daffy: 1 (1)
Hoboken: 0
Lady Luck: 0
Karma: 0
True: 0
Zeus: 0
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Teaneck Blogs
Occassionally, I think to myself, "What's going on in my magnificent hometown of Teaneck?"
A cursory google search revealed only two that seem to be updated with some regularity: links to these are on the side of my blog:
http://teaneckprogress.blogspot.com/
http://teaneck-talk.blogspot.com/
I only glanced at each. Any Teaneckites follow either blog? Any opinion of them? Any other blogs out there worth reading?
A cursory google search revealed only two that seem to be updated with some regularity: links to these are on the side of my blog:
http://teaneckprogress.blogspot.com/
http://teaneck-talk.blogspot.com/
I only glanced at each. Any Teaneckites follow either blog? Any opinion of them? Any other blogs out there worth reading?
Monday, June 22, 2009
Math Questions VI - A Quick Quiz
Well, not really math, but logic.
Question 1.
The answer to question 2 is:
A. B
B. C
C. A
Question 2.
The first question with correct answer B is:
A. Question 3
B. Question 1
C. Question 2
Question 3.
The only answer you have not chosen yet is:
A. A
B. B
C. C
Question 1.
The answer to question 2 is:
A. B
B. C
C. A
Question 2.
The first question with correct answer B is:
A. Question 3
B. Question 1
C. Question 2
Question 3.
The only answer you have not chosen yet is:
A. A
B. B
C. C
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Classic Post: Rules of the Court
While I'm apprehensively awaiting my ACL surgery which is in three days, and finding myself unmotivated to blog about new stuff, I've decided to continue to clean out my "old posts" file. Here is an amended one which appeared in February 2006.
Some time ago, while chatting with my mother, I mentioned that I was tired from playing basketball at the gym, and that the team I'm on kept winning so we kept playing.
She said, "So, when your team wins, you play again?"
I said, "Yeah, that's the way it usually works."
She was surprised. "Wow. Well, that doesn't seem far. Shouldn't the team that wins sit down to give other people a chance to play?"
I laughed. "I don't think so... what would be the incentive to win then?"
We talked for a while about the generally understood rules of pick-up basketball from playground, open-gym, and pick-up basketball at the courts that I have played on. I'd assume these rules are fairly consistent regardless of where you play (although, interestingly, I have noticed a couple of small subtle differences in the games people play while waiting for a full court game in South Jersey vs. North Jersey. For instance, the game I played growing up called "21" is called "Roughhouse" in South Jersey. I also learned a 1-1 style rotation game... called "Wake and Bake" or something like that, where you play 1-1 games up to 1 and whoever scores first, stays on and gets a point and the game is up to whatever amount.)
In any case, I thought I would try to summarize the rules of playground basketball, as I understand them. Note: "playground" and "pick-up" are interchangeable, and just mean an unorganized game of basketball that starts when random people gather at a place, playground, gym, whatever, to play. It doesn't necessarily mean a literal playground.
When is the game over?
In most places, the game is played up to a set amount of baskets. Common amounts are 7 or 9 (usually, when there are several teams waiting to play, the games will be up to this short amount), 11 or 12 (medium, common length), or 15 or 16 baskets (this is done if it seems to be the consensus that at least several players are making the game their last game of the day, so this last game can be played a little longer). Some courts have 3-point lines drawn on them, and some do not. On courts with painted 3-point lines, the decision has to be made as to whether a 3-point shot "counts". More often than not, all baskets will be worth 1 point, but if a 3-pointer "counts", it usually counts as 2 points, making it worth proportionally more than a 3-pointer in an official game.
(Note: for all of these items, when I say things like "a decision is made" or "the players decide", it usually falls on players that play on that court often. If you are visiting a court you don't play at on a regular basis, people tend to defer to the players there and ask them "how do you play here?" or "what is the game up to?" This obviously includes any irregularities that certain parks might have with boundaries of the court - that is, what counts as out of bounds and what doesn't, for instance.)
How are teams chosen for the first game of the day, as people start to gather?
Almost always, the game is 5 on 5. On smaller courts, the game may be 3 on 3 or 4 on 4.
If there are the exact amount of people that are required to play, teams are usually chosen by shooting free-throws. If this is the case, usually either
(a) the first 3, 4, or 5 people to make their free-throw will become the first team, and everybody else becomes the second team; or
(b) the first two people who make their free-throw become "captains" and then they choose up the teams, alternating choosing players for the respective teams. (Unfortunately, in a phenomenon reminiscent of high school gym class, somebody has the dubious distinction of being "picked last".)
If more people are there than the exact amount that are required to play, teams will be chosen by either method described above. However, if method (a) is used, everybody has to shoot the free-throw, as the first 5 people making a free-throw, for instance, will mean that a "second team" will have to be chosen.
Here is an example: Let's say, for instance, 13 people are choosing teams for a 5-on-5 game, and in the first go-around 8 guys make the free-throw out of 13, the first five who made it become Team 1. The 3 other guys are on Team 2, and the 5 guys who missed will shoot again for those 2 remaining spots. Then, out of the 5 guys who re-shoot, 3 guys make it and 2 guys miss. Those 3 guys will have to re-shoot, and the 2 guys who missed lose their chance to shoot again. Those 3 guys re-shoot and so it continues until there are exactly 10 players.
The first game has commenced, and guys are waiting to play the next game. Who gets to play in the next game, and in what order?
This is a common point of contention in playground games. Here is how it usually works, broken down in a case-by-case basis. In all cases, I will assume a 5-on-5 game but the rules would be similar for a 4-on-4 game.
If there are 4 guys or less waiting: In this case, after the game is over, those guys automatically get to play in the next game. If all members of the winning team opt to play again and "defend their title", then the guys on the losing team most shoot free throws in the method described above to see who gets to join the oncoming team to play in the next game. The rub comes, regardless of how many people are waiting to play, when one or more members of the winning team decide they do not want to play again. Then, the protocol is a little bit less clear. More often than not, the winning team gets to choose which players of those waiting to play they want on their team - as an implicit privilege of winning, I suppose - even if those newcomers arrived after guys waiting to play.
If there are more than 5 guys waiting: In this case, if five guys have arrived at the court first they usually will form a team and the 6th player to arrive has "next". This means that this player has jurisdiction over the next team to have dibs on the court. It is a clear-cut case of what order you arrive in... unless a player wants to reserve a spot on a team for a friend who has not arrived at the court yet. In those cases, the alpha-male of the court, or else a civilized consensus may be reached by the collective unit.
How is the game officiated?
Clearly, there are no referees in these games. Fouls and violations are decided by a "call your own foul" rule. In other words, if a player observes a violation they call it out loud by stating loudly and clearly "Foul" or "My ball" or something similar. The call must be made promptly, though, or else it is known as a "late call" and may or may not be respected by the other players. If the call is fair, most times people will "respect the call" and appropriate action will be taken, which usually is to give the ball to the team that the call is in favor of. Occassionally, a player will abuse the priviledge of being able to call his/her own fouls and other players may treat them as 'the boy who cried wolf' and stop respecting their calls. Also, offensive fouls are rarely called, as are calls like palming the ball.
Are there free throws in playground basketball?
Usually not. If a player gets fouled in a manner that would ordinarily give them a chance to shoot free throws, at the playground they will just be awarded possession of the ball. Something that varies from court to court is if "continuation" is awarded - that is, when a player calls a foul and makes the shot they were fouled while shooting - ordinarily, they would count the basket and get one foul shot, in an official game. In a playground game, since there are no foul shots, the only remaining question is, does the basket still count, or does the foul call negate the basket? This is decided from place to place, by the players that usually play there. (The intent of not counting the rule is presumably to prevent players from calling a foul if they are not sure if their shot is going to go in, and therefore will be less likely to call fouls recklessly, consequently negating possible baskets made by themself.)
Anything else out of the ordinary is usually decided by a general consensus, unless there is an alpha-male type who takes over and makes a decision for everybody. (Isn't that how things are usually decided in the real world?)
What did I miss?
Some time ago, while chatting with my mother, I mentioned that I was tired from playing basketball at the gym, and that the team I'm on kept winning so we kept playing.
She said, "So, when your team wins, you play again?"
I said, "Yeah, that's the way it usually works."
She was surprised. "Wow. Well, that doesn't seem far. Shouldn't the team that wins sit down to give other people a chance to play?"
I laughed. "I don't think so... what would be the incentive to win then?"
We talked for a while about the generally understood rules of pick-up basketball from playground, open-gym, and pick-up basketball at the courts that I have played on. I'd assume these rules are fairly consistent regardless of where you play (although, interestingly, I have noticed a couple of small subtle differences in the games people play while waiting for a full court game in South Jersey vs. North Jersey. For instance, the game I played growing up called "21" is called "Roughhouse" in South Jersey. I also learned a 1-1 style rotation game... called "Wake and Bake" or something like that, where you play 1-1 games up to 1 and whoever scores first, stays on and gets a point and the game is up to whatever amount.)
In any case, I thought I would try to summarize the rules of playground basketball, as I understand them. Note: "playground" and "pick-up" are interchangeable, and just mean an unorganized game of basketball that starts when random people gather at a place, playground, gym, whatever, to play. It doesn't necessarily mean a literal playground.
When is the game over?
In most places, the game is played up to a set amount of baskets. Common amounts are 7 or 9 (usually, when there are several teams waiting to play, the games will be up to this short amount), 11 or 12 (medium, common length), or 15 or 16 baskets (this is done if it seems to be the consensus that at least several players are making the game their last game of the day, so this last game can be played a little longer). Some courts have 3-point lines drawn on them, and some do not. On courts with painted 3-point lines, the decision has to be made as to whether a 3-point shot "counts". More often than not, all baskets will be worth 1 point, but if a 3-pointer "counts", it usually counts as 2 points, making it worth proportionally more than a 3-pointer in an official game.
(Note: for all of these items, when I say things like "a decision is made" or "the players decide", it usually falls on players that play on that court often. If you are visiting a court you don't play at on a regular basis, people tend to defer to the players there and ask them "how do you play here?" or "what is the game up to?" This obviously includes any irregularities that certain parks might have with boundaries of the court - that is, what counts as out of bounds and what doesn't, for instance.)
How are teams chosen for the first game of the day, as people start to gather?
Almost always, the game is 5 on 5. On smaller courts, the game may be 3 on 3 or 4 on 4.
If there are the exact amount of people that are required to play, teams are usually chosen by shooting free-throws. If this is the case, usually either
(a) the first 3, 4, or 5 people to make their free-throw will become the first team, and everybody else becomes the second team; or
(b) the first two people who make their free-throw become "captains" and then they choose up the teams, alternating choosing players for the respective teams. (Unfortunately, in a phenomenon reminiscent of high school gym class, somebody has the dubious distinction of being "picked last".)
If more people are there than the exact amount that are required to play, teams will be chosen by either method described above. However, if method (a) is used, everybody has to shoot the free-throw, as the first 5 people making a free-throw, for instance, will mean that a "second team" will have to be chosen.
Here is an example: Let's say, for instance, 13 people are choosing teams for a 5-on-5 game, and in the first go-around 8 guys make the free-throw out of 13, the first five who made it become Team 1. The 3 other guys are on Team 2, and the 5 guys who missed will shoot again for those 2 remaining spots. Then, out of the 5 guys who re-shoot, 3 guys make it and 2 guys miss. Those 3 guys will have to re-shoot, and the 2 guys who missed lose their chance to shoot again. Those 3 guys re-shoot and so it continues until there are exactly 10 players.
The first game has commenced, and guys are waiting to play the next game. Who gets to play in the next game, and in what order?
This is a common point of contention in playground games. Here is how it usually works, broken down in a case-by-case basis. In all cases, I will assume a 5-on-5 game but the rules would be similar for a 4-on-4 game.
If there are 4 guys or less waiting: In this case, after the game is over, those guys automatically get to play in the next game. If all members of the winning team opt to play again and "defend their title", then the guys on the losing team most shoot free throws in the method described above to see who gets to join the oncoming team to play in the next game. The rub comes, regardless of how many people are waiting to play, when one or more members of the winning team decide they do not want to play again. Then, the protocol is a little bit less clear. More often than not, the winning team gets to choose which players of those waiting to play they want on their team - as an implicit privilege of winning, I suppose - even if those newcomers arrived after guys waiting to play.
If there are more than 5 guys waiting: In this case, if five guys have arrived at the court first they usually will form a team and the 6th player to arrive has "next". This means that this player has jurisdiction over the next team to have dibs on the court. It is a clear-cut case of what order you arrive in... unless a player wants to reserve a spot on a team for a friend who has not arrived at the court yet. In those cases, the alpha-male of the court, or else a civilized consensus may be reached by the collective unit.
How is the game officiated?
Clearly, there are no referees in these games. Fouls and violations are decided by a "call your own foul" rule. In other words, if a player observes a violation they call it out loud by stating loudly and clearly "Foul" or "My ball" or something similar. The call must be made promptly, though, or else it is known as a "late call" and may or may not be respected by the other players. If the call is fair, most times people will "respect the call" and appropriate action will be taken, which usually is to give the ball to the team that the call is in favor of. Occassionally, a player will abuse the priviledge of being able to call his/her own fouls and other players may treat them as 'the boy who cried wolf' and stop respecting their calls. Also, offensive fouls are rarely called, as are calls like palming the ball.
Are there free throws in playground basketball?
Usually not. If a player gets fouled in a manner that would ordinarily give them a chance to shoot free throws, at the playground they will just be awarded possession of the ball. Something that varies from court to court is if "continuation" is awarded - that is, when a player calls a foul and makes the shot they were fouled while shooting - ordinarily, they would count the basket and get one foul shot, in an official game. In a playground game, since there are no foul shots, the only remaining question is, does the basket still count, or does the foul call negate the basket? This is decided from place to place, by the players that usually play there. (The intent of not counting the rule is presumably to prevent players from calling a foul if they are not sure if their shot is going to go in, and therefore will be less likely to call fouls recklessly, consequently negating possible baskets made by themself.)
Anything else out of the ordinary is usually decided by a general consensus, unless there is an alpha-male type who takes over and makes a decision for everybody. (Isn't that how things are usually decided in the real world?)
What did I miss?
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Joey's Children Wear's Maniacal Hen
Well, boys and girls, it's Classic Post time again. My knee surgery, as I recently wrote, is a week away, and I'm sure when I'm laying around recovering I'll have plenty of time to blog about "new" topics.
In the meantime... here's a scary childhood memory that took place in Teaneck, originally posted in the summer of 2006.
There used to be a store called Joey's Children's Wear in Teaneck, right off of Cedar Lane, next to where Geronimo's is. I believe, if memory serves, it's a gym now. As an aside, did Geromino's used to be Charlie Brown's? Or was there both Geronimo's and Charlie Brown right down there? Is Geronimo's still there? Was Joey's Children's Wear a TBO team?
Anyway, this store Joey's Children's Wear sold... umm... children's wear. When I was real young, my mother would take me to Joey's Children Wear to have me try on and get clothes. My family moved to Teaneck when I was 8, and I think this story happened even before that.
Once when we went, my mother went to the register to buy me some clothes. While I was waiting, I spotted a machine, asked my mom for a quarter, and walked over.
The machine was one of those typical things - an animated bird sitting on a bunch of eggs. You put in a quarter, rotated the handle, and then the hen squawked and flapped its wings and a plastic egg would come out. Inside the egg were things like super bouncy balls, plastic rings, etc...
I put in my quarter and grabbed the handle. Immediately I received a very strong electric shock. I jerked my hand off the handle. Shocked (ho yes), I stared at the machine and walked away towards my mother. She was still at the register.
In my young mind, I wondered if that's what really happened to me. I walked back to the machine. My quarter was still in the slot as I had not rotated the handle yet.
Tentatively, I reached out to grab the handle again, and received another similar shock. Scared and surprised, I walked to my mother's side. She had just finished ringing up my clothes.
On our way out, I told my mother the machine shocked me and explained what happened. I think she was unsure whether to believe me or not. I don't remember well, but I think I told her we should go tell the people at the store. We eventually just left.
A couple of times after that, we were in Joey's, and I could feel the weight of the hen's eyes on me the whole time we shopped around. I'd questioned if I really got shocked, and what had happened to me the last time. Naturally, I was curious to touch the machine again - however, I wound up never again doing so.
To this day, I don't really know if I received an electric shock, and if I did, how was that possible, and how many other kids got shocked. I don't remember much, in general, from my very early years, but this incident I do remember well.
Eventually, Joey's closed down, and as far as I know, we never told the people at Joey's nor did I ever touch the hen. It will be one of those little mysteries of life that remains unsolved.
In the meantime... here's a scary childhood memory that took place in Teaneck, originally posted in the summer of 2006.
There used to be a store called Joey's Children's Wear in Teaneck, right off of Cedar Lane, next to where Geronimo's is. I believe, if memory serves, it's a gym now. As an aside, did Geromino's used to be Charlie Brown's? Or was there both Geronimo's and Charlie Brown right down there? Is Geronimo's still there? Was Joey's Children's Wear a TBO team?
Anyway, this store Joey's Children's Wear sold... umm... children's wear. When I was real young, my mother would take me to Joey's Children Wear to have me try on and get clothes. My family moved to Teaneck when I was 8, and I think this story happened even before that.
Once when we went, my mother went to the register to buy me some clothes. While I was waiting, I spotted a machine, asked my mom for a quarter, and walked over.
The machine was one of those typical things - an animated bird sitting on a bunch of eggs. You put in a quarter, rotated the handle, and then the hen squawked and flapped its wings and a plastic egg would come out. Inside the egg were things like super bouncy balls, plastic rings, etc...
I put in my quarter and grabbed the handle. Immediately I received a very strong electric shock. I jerked my hand off the handle. Shocked (ho yes), I stared at the machine and walked away towards my mother. She was still at the register.
In my young mind, I wondered if that's what really happened to me. I walked back to the machine. My quarter was still in the slot as I had not rotated the handle yet.
Tentatively, I reached out to grab the handle again, and received another similar shock. Scared and surprised, I walked to my mother's side. She had just finished ringing up my clothes.
On our way out, I told my mother the machine shocked me and explained what happened. I think she was unsure whether to believe me or not. I don't remember well, but I think I told her we should go tell the people at the store. We eventually just left.
A couple of times after that, we were in Joey's, and I could feel the weight of the hen's eyes on me the whole time we shopped around. I'd questioned if I really got shocked, and what had happened to me the last time. Naturally, I was curious to touch the machine again - however, I wound up never again doing so.
To this day, I don't really know if I received an electric shock, and if I did, how was that possible, and how many other kids got shocked. I don't remember much, in general, from my very early years, but this incident I do remember well.
Eventually, Joey's closed down, and as far as I know, we never told the people at Joey's nor did I ever touch the hen. It will be one of those little mysteries of life that remains unsolved.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Music Monday
For your viewing pleasure on this Monday, here is a live performance of "Cowboy Song" and "The Boys Are Back In Town" by Thin Lizzy, a very underrated group from the 70s.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Hello Boy's and Girl's (A Classic Post)
Well boy's and girl's... just kidding... boys and girls...
This is a post that appeared on my old blog before I became Walt Clyde Frazier. I have edited it somewhat and am reposting it here.
Am I mailing it in? Probably. But, this is a subject that still irks me. Everybody has their Seinfeld-esque pet peeves, and this is still one of them. I see this at least once a week or so, and it always strikes me.
Why is it that the apostrophe is so misused in our language? Specifically, I'm referring to the mangling of pluralizing various things, and the confusion with the possessive apostrophe. I'm not an English major nor was English my best subject in high school, but this is something that even I can keep straight.
The grammatical rules seem fairly simple. However, I can't tell you how many times I see things written like "Boy's and Girl's Basketball Tryouts are this Monday" in schools, or "Freshman's Class Advisors are excused from class" in official memos from school. Or, you may see something like "Freshman Class Advisor's are excused from class" when no possessive is being used.
It's not just in schools - you'll see misusages of apostrophes in signs in stores often as well. The rules about apostrophes are fairly simple, as I understand them. Why is it so difficult for people to remember them? Do they just not care?
Another much more minor pet peeve is the usage of unnecessary quotation marks. For instance, the main office in my high school has a public restroom that has a plaque on the door which reads "Faculty Only" (with the quotes). Why are the quotes necessary? Faculty Only is not a colloquialism, nor a figure of speech. It is, infact, a quite literal directive. Only people who fall under the category of Faculty may use the room.
This is a post that appeared on my old blog before I became Walt Clyde Frazier. I have edited it somewhat and am reposting it here.
Am I mailing it in? Probably. But, this is a subject that still irks me. Everybody has their Seinfeld-esque pet peeves, and this is still one of them. I see this at least once a week or so, and it always strikes me.
Why is it that the apostrophe is so misused in our language? Specifically, I'm referring to the mangling of pluralizing various things, and the confusion with the possessive apostrophe. I'm not an English major nor was English my best subject in high school, but this is something that even I can keep straight.
The grammatical rules seem fairly simple. However, I can't tell you how many times I see things written like "Boy's and Girl's Basketball Tryouts are this Monday" in schools, or "Freshman's Class Advisors are excused from class" in official memos from school. Or, you may see something like "Freshman Class Advisor's are excused from class" when no possessive is being used.
It's not just in schools - you'll see misusages of apostrophes in signs in stores often as well. The rules about apostrophes are fairly simple, as I understand them. Why is it so difficult for people to remember them? Do they just not care?
Another much more minor pet peeve is the usage of unnecessary quotation marks. For instance, the main office in my high school has a public restroom that has a plaque on the door which reads "Faculty Only" (with the quotes). Why are the quotes necessary? Faculty Only is not a colloquialism, nor a figure of speech. It is, infact, a quite literal directive. Only people who fall under the category of Faculty may use the room.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Dab-KNEE? Gui-KNEE? Hi-KNEE? No, my knee. (Part II)
SPOILER ALERT: Before you read this post, I command you to go and read the first part of my knee saga - the prelude to what's going on with my knee..
Go ahead, I'll wait for you.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Ok, ready?
So when we left off not too long ago, I was saying that I am going to require surgery in two and a half weeks on the same ACL that was torn that fateful spring of 2000. Here's what happened.
About 3 or 4 weeks ago, I was shooting around at the gym on a Saturday. I was jogging between shots to get the ball, make layups, etc... but no running around. After I was done, I put the ball down and walked down the hall to go upstairs to lift. After a few steps, my knee suddenly felt very strange. It hurt, and with every step I felt a clicking. It may seem incorrect to say that one "felt" a "clicking", but that's the best way I could describe it. With every step my knee kind of did a slip-and-stick thing.
I gave it a few minutes, walked up the stairs, and tried to do things. My knee certainly did not feel right. I went home and relaxed for a while. Let me give this some time, I thought, and see how it feels. A couple of days later, the knee was visibly swollen and still clicking. Shit. It felt similar to when the ACL was torn initially.
A couple of doctor's visits later (and a couple of weeks later - the good ones are always so busy!), I found a good one down here in South Jersey. He examined me physically and ordered an MRI. After several questions about the history of my knee,
he asked, "Was there a time since your original surgery that you remember feeling any kind of pain down there... maybe where you hurt it but then it went away after a couple of days..."
My memory drifts... flashback: Wow, yes, there was. Flashback about 5 years (I was about 27). I was playing at the courts at Teaneck's Votee Park in the summer in a pickup game. I was guarding either Giovanni or Christian Hernandez - apologies, Hernandez Brothers, but I can't remember which - but I remember because they are both more athletic than me and resemble each other. Anyway, in trying to keep up with Mr. Hernandez, I remember tweaking my "bad" knee and having to stop playing and limping around for a couple of days with crutches. But quickly, I was able to walk around normally again, and I declared myself better and commenced with normal activity for the next 5 years.
So I related this story to my doctor. We looked at each other in a long gaze. Never has somebody known me so well without me even saying a word. Comforted that somebody finally understood me, I smiled and sobbed at the same time. "Doctor, you make me feel good. To be honest, it's been so long that a man has made feel this good," I said. He smiled knowingly, with the patience and wisdom that an older man can only possess. Dimming the lights, he said, "Yes, Walt, I know. It's ok, you're safe now." He caressed my shoulder gently....
... just kidding! Daffy, put your pants back on! He is a professional, for God's sake!
But seriously, yes, I did relate this story to him. He said (and I paraphrase), "I thought so. What happened is when you did that, you tweaked and stretched your ACL. It's still intact, but it's been stretched. And since it's not connected to a steady blood supply, think of it as a rubber band that still attached but is stretched to the point where, for activities like tennis or basketball, it's not effectively tight enough and it never will be."
Fuck. I kind of knew it. We waited for the MRI. After a week, we examined it together...
"... yeah, your ACL is only loosely attached, but what's giving you this pain is the fact that your meniscus is torn and arthritis is developing in your bone where the meniscus is torn. So I definitely need to go on and fix up the meniscus and the piece of bone that is developing arthritis..."
"... and? Tell me Doc, what about the ACL? What's your recommendation?"
"... Well, given your age and the fact that I assume you don't want to give up on activities like basketball, you should probably get the ACL redone."
"Was it not done properly the first time? Or do you think I reinjured it?"
"... well, you stretched it out. It wasn't done 'improperly' the first time per se, but it's been 10 years and since then advances have been made with ACL reconstructions. We do them a little bit differently now..."
... and boring details commence. But yes, so here I am. Not wanting to alter my level of activity for the next 50 or 60 years, I've decided to get my left-knee-ACL re-reconstructed (and hopefully for good this time!)
Go ahead, I'll wait for you.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Ok, ready?
So when we left off not too long ago, I was saying that I am going to require surgery in two and a half weeks on the same ACL that was torn that fateful spring of 2000. Here's what happened.
About 3 or 4 weeks ago, I was shooting around at the gym on a Saturday. I was jogging between shots to get the ball, make layups, etc... but no running around. After I was done, I put the ball down and walked down the hall to go upstairs to lift. After a few steps, my knee suddenly felt very strange. It hurt, and with every step I felt a clicking. It may seem incorrect to say that one "felt" a "clicking", but that's the best way I could describe it. With every step my knee kind of did a slip-and-stick thing.
I gave it a few minutes, walked up the stairs, and tried to do things. My knee certainly did not feel right. I went home and relaxed for a while. Let me give this some time, I thought, and see how it feels. A couple of days later, the knee was visibly swollen and still clicking. Shit. It felt similar to when the ACL was torn initially.
A couple of doctor's visits later (and a couple of weeks later - the good ones are always so busy!), I found a good one down here in South Jersey. He examined me physically and ordered an MRI. After several questions about the history of my knee,
he asked, "Was there a time since your original surgery that you remember feeling any kind of pain down there... maybe where you hurt it but then it went away after a couple of days..."
My memory drifts... flashback: Wow, yes, there was. Flashback about 5 years (I was about 27). I was playing at the courts at Teaneck's Votee Park in the summer in a pickup game. I was guarding either Giovanni or Christian Hernandez - apologies, Hernandez Brothers, but I can't remember which - but I remember because they are both more athletic than me and resemble each other. Anyway, in trying to keep up with Mr. Hernandez, I remember tweaking my "bad" knee and having to stop playing and limping around for a couple of days with crutches. But quickly, I was able to walk around normally again, and I declared myself better and commenced with normal activity for the next 5 years.
So I related this story to my doctor. We looked at each other in a long gaze. Never has somebody known me so well without me even saying a word. Comforted that somebody finally understood me, I smiled and sobbed at the same time. "Doctor, you make me feel good. To be honest, it's been so long that a man has made feel this good," I said. He smiled knowingly, with the patience and wisdom that an older man can only possess. Dimming the lights, he said, "Yes, Walt, I know. It's ok, you're safe now." He caressed my shoulder gently....
... just kidding! Daffy, put your pants back on! He is a professional, for God's sake!
But seriously, yes, I did relate this story to him. He said (and I paraphrase), "I thought so. What happened is when you did that, you tweaked and stretched your ACL. It's still intact, but it's been stretched. And since it's not connected to a steady blood supply, think of it as a rubber band that still attached but is stretched to the point where, for activities like tennis or basketball, it's not effectively tight enough and it never will be."
Fuck. I kind of knew it. We waited for the MRI. After a week, we examined it together...
"... yeah, your ACL is only loosely attached, but what's giving you this pain is the fact that your meniscus is torn and arthritis is developing in your bone where the meniscus is torn. So I definitely need to go on and fix up the meniscus and the piece of bone that is developing arthritis..."
"... and? Tell me Doc, what about the ACL? What's your recommendation?"
"... Well, given your age and the fact that I assume you don't want to give up on activities like basketball, you should probably get the ACL redone."
"Was it not done properly the first time? Or do you think I reinjured it?"
"... well, you stretched it out. It wasn't done 'improperly' the first time per se, but it's been 10 years and since then advances have been made with ACL reconstructions. We do them a little bit differently now..."
... and boring details commence. But yes, so here I am. Not wanting to alter my level of activity for the next 50 or 60 years, I've decided to get my left-knee-ACL re-reconstructed (and hopefully for good this time!)
Dab-KNEE? Gui-KNEE? Hi-KNEE? No, my knee. (Part I)
That pesky ACL...
It was the spring of 2000. I was 23, had graduated from Rutgers College in May 1999, and was living (in sin) near New Brunswick, sharing an apartment with my then-girlfriend, now-wife Lisa. She was finishing her fifth year of the five-year program to get her Masters in English Education. Being a pansy, I backed out of the math version of this program, and was selling software on the phone for $25K/year while she was finishing and I was getting my act together.
Due to a glitch in the system, my ID card still worked at the Rutgers College gymnasiums, despite the fact that I graduated a year earlier. So, I'd often still go to the gym on weekends or in the evenings to play pickup basketball.
It was a Saturday, and I was playing at Sonny Werblin. There was a healthy, but not overwhelming crowd there. (A solid three-game wait for hours, I'd say). The team I was on won for a few games straight until we finally lost a game. I was in a pumped up state and knowing we'd had to wait a while, I ran over to the weight room despite being exhausted. I pounded out a few sets of what I could muster up the energy for, which at the time was mainly leg stuff (quads, hamstrings, etc...). I ran back to play again.
Our team started playing. It was early on in the game, and I got the ball on a semi-fast break with one guy running even with me on defense. I made it look like I was going to try to go up strong for a lay-up and he got ready to block the shot. Instead, I stopped and just up-faked and he went flying by. I then was open for an easy lay-up. However, while this was happening, I felt a sickening feeling in my knee. The best description is a sudden pop or give in my knee. I crumpled to the ground (though somehow I made the layup - to this day I don't remember how). Quickly realizing I hurt myself, I called for a sub from the guys who were waiting - as it protocol when one injures their ankle, knee, whatever, and cannot continue at a pick-up game. I slid myself off to the side of the court and rested against the bleachers, legs extended. Guys asked if they should get somebody for ice ("Somebody get me some FUCKING ICE!" - A.B.) and I declined, not realizing the severity of my injury and the abbreviation "ACL" having not yet entered my vocabulary.
I sat for a minute, watching the game annoyed that I could not compete. But quickly my head started to turn. The thought process was something like this: "Oh shit, I'm not supposed to be here. What if an attendant does come? I'm 23 and finally on my own health insurance. What if I'm somehow liable for this? What if, because I'm not legally allowed to be here, I get sent to the E.R. and have to pay for it?" (At the time, I didn't fully understand how medical coverage worked.) This whirlwind of thought built up until I was like, "I better get the fuck out of here."
I stood up and realized in about 1 second how bad my knee was. It gave when I put weight on it. Somehow, I limped to the car like a wounded soldier in a war movie and drove the 3.2 miles or so back to my apartment.
View Larger Map
Ok, you really didn't need a map showing what the drive was like from the gym to my apartment in 2000. But, for those more distractable readers, I wanted to give you another picture to look at.
Anyway, I hobbled up the stairs and laid down. Lisa came home shortly thereafter from a job fair in Edison (she was interviewing for her first teaching position for the following September) and I told her I hurt my knee at the gym. Somehow, we came to the conclusion that I should go up to Teaneck and stay with my family (maybe she was visiting her parents the next day? We both don't remember.) Anyway, so I drove the 45 minutes up to Teaneck and stayed at my father's house that night. We unfolded the sofa in the living room, as going up stairs seemed too daunting.
That night was the most physically painful night of my life. I'd broken my hand and both wrists before, and had back pain that hindered me from playing sports as a kid and made me see a chiropractor three times a week while I was growing (age 14 and 15), and nothing compared to the feeling in my knee when it started to swell that night. I called my wife, crying / whining / complaining, and as all of my family does, she thought I was being dramatic and gently soothed me while thinking in her head, "Stop being such a baby."
As the next few days unfolded, I realized the severity of the injury, got checked out by a couple of inept doctors before I found a decent one in Paramus who informed me that I had torn my ACL. I found out what this was all about, had the reconstructive surgery in May of 2000, and went through the physical therapy and assorted rehabiliation that summer. By the following autumn, I was a strapping young man of 24, I started my teaching career, and was playing pickup basketball again both outside and inside various gyms.
"But, Walt, why are you bothering to tell us about an injury you sustained 9 years ago? I mean, great story and all, but..."
I'm glad you asked. Now I'm 32, a few pounds heavier yet much more life-experienced, and I am going to get the ACL surgery again in the same knee. The surgery is scheduled for June 24, 2009, the day after the high-school year ends.
"But why? Did the initial one fail? Did you re-tear it?"
Ahh... faithful reader... that will have to wait until tomorrow, for Part II of this post. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
"He's Cheating Himself"
Here is another story from the now defunct Great Stories website. I don't know if this translates into everyday life, but in 9 years of teaching I've never laughed this hard, so if that counts for anything...
The time I laughed the hardest while teaching occurred about 6 years ago.
I had been teaching for about 3 or 4 years. Every year that I'd taught, I had a couple of lower level, "inclusion" Geometry classes that I co-taught with a special education teacher, Mike. I was at the point in my budding career as a teacher where I was finally reconciling the fact that I would be no Jaime Escalante, that I wouldn't get to teach Calculus all day and open young minds with it. (Now, five years later, I do teach Calculus, but I digress.)
Anyway, co-teaching with Mike had started to loosen me up a little bit. It wasn't that he didn't take his job "seriously". It was more that he'd been doing it for a few years and he saw the job for what it was. Mike was always the guy to start up a fantasy football league among the guys in the department, always striving hard to figure out the best prank to play among the other teachers. He related well to the kids he was there for as well.
So Mike and I had started to develop a rhythm with our teaching. We co-taught the same course together for a couple of years straight, and two sections per year. We would switch off explaining things, and Mike seemed to have a way to simplify concepts for the kids who were real low academically, that I couldn't seem to simplify things enough for. With one of us explaining while the other circulated the room, things were running as smoothly as can be expected. Our classrooms were always filled with a hodgepodge of lazy screwoffs and otherwise good kids who just weren't very good at math and learning in general. So, there was only so much learning that could be expected.
This particular year, in the front row of one of our classes sat, from our left to our right, some kid who wasn't there half the time, a complete goofball "Phil", and a burnout kid who wasn't very swift named "Jerome". Why the alias Jerome then? You remember Jerome from that 80s classic Summer School...?
Shoop: Hey, I remember you. Where have you been?
Jerome Watkins: Bathroom.
Shoop: For the last six weeks?
Jerome Watkins: My zipper got stuck.
Sorry, go sidetracked. Anyway, Phil was so ADD that he had to sit in the front to prevent him from staring out the window, dazed, at whatever was happening, or else from trying some conversation with somebody around him. Despite this, he was extremely affable, though rarely on the right side of passing. For similar reasons, burnout Jeb also sat in the front row. Phil would often, in a very likable way, try to chat with one or both of us teachers about... well, anything else... during class. Often, his hand would shoot up and something random would come out. What did we think of the Giants game last weekend? Did you guys know that if you are driving without your seatbelt, you could get a ticket? Hey, I was watching wrestling this weekend and I was thinking of our lesson about, you know, squares and stuff. You get the point.
So one day we're giving a test. Jerome happened to show up that day and, like Jerome from "Summer School", in all likelihood got the best grade in the class. We're about ten minutes into the test and it's really quiet. But quickly, it becomes evident that Phil did not feel comfortable with the material. Phil starts looking up to see if we're looking at him, and if not, he gives the old "yawn, cough, and head-turn" about as obviously as a 13-year-old boy on a first date. Jeb, who was uncharacteristically awake on this particular day, was always worse off than Phil in terms of being aware of one's surroudings, and he didn't even catch on that Phil was attempting to get Jeb to help him out somehow. Jeb is looking at Phil, puzzled, and then looking back at his paper. Occassionaly, Phil then tries somehow to look at Jerome's paper, but Jerome is indifferent to all other students and is working at an angle where it is clear that Phil won't be able to see much in that direction. Soon Phil's stage-whisper-like attempts to cheat became comical to the point that everybody else in the class is starting to look at Phil.
Mike and I catch eyes and we decide, unspoken, that one of us must say something and it's going to be Mike. Mike nods and walks closer to Phil. Usually, in situations like these, teachers will quietly "re-focus" the student or deal with it discreetly. But Mike, in his unique style, stands in front of Phil and says loudly enough for the class to hear, "Phil, why are you trying to cheat off of these two guys? This guy [Jeb] is asleep half the time, and this guy [Jerome] hasn't been here in three weeks."
A number of things happened spontaneously and simultaneously. I looked down at my attendance book, which happened to be open in front of me, and it confirmed that yes, Jerome hadn't been there for about three weeks. Jerome, who had been hard at work, looked up puzzled at what was happening. Phil smiled a big goofy "you got me, wow, how did you know?" look at Mike. Jeb laughed self-effacingly at the fact that he was a burnout who never knew what was happening and was half-asleep often. Several students chuckled.
A combination of strong feelings, both positive and negative, about my situation of teaching this class which I had been telling myself was way "below" me, all arose at once. And, looking at these goofball faces in front of me from left to right, I lost it. I started laughing so hard that I literally fell down to the floor. Once students saw me like this (and I was usually all business, I never was like this), it started them laughing. Just as I was controlling my laughter, I looked up at my students, caught eyes with Phil and Jeb's goofy faces again, and lost it even more. I had to leave the room and laugh to myself for about 3 or 4 minutes straight. Finally, I composed myself, went back in the room, and we all chuckled for a little bit.
There was an implicit understanding, I'd like to think, on the part of all the students and on our part as teachers that we were acknowledging our own goofiness and the goofiness of the situation in general. Phil always took our joking on him well, especially when Mike did it, and he was laughing as well. Finally, we all focused and got back to work.
The time I laughed the hardest while teaching occurred about 6 years ago.
I had been teaching for about 3 or 4 years. Every year that I'd taught, I had a couple of lower level, "inclusion" Geometry classes that I co-taught with a special education teacher, Mike. I was at the point in my budding career as a teacher where I was finally reconciling the fact that I would be no Jaime Escalante, that I wouldn't get to teach Calculus all day and open young minds with it. (Now, five years later, I do teach Calculus, but I digress.)
Anyway, co-teaching with Mike had started to loosen me up a little bit. It wasn't that he didn't take his job "seriously". It was more that he'd been doing it for a few years and he saw the job for what it was. Mike was always the guy to start up a fantasy football league among the guys in the department, always striving hard to figure out the best prank to play among the other teachers. He related well to the kids he was there for as well.
So Mike and I had started to develop a rhythm with our teaching. We co-taught the same course together for a couple of years straight, and two sections per year. We would switch off explaining things, and Mike seemed to have a way to simplify concepts for the kids who were real low academically, that I couldn't seem to simplify things enough for. With one of us explaining while the other circulated the room, things were running as smoothly as can be expected. Our classrooms were always filled with a hodgepodge of lazy screwoffs and otherwise good kids who just weren't very good at math and learning in general. So, there was only so much learning that could be expected.
This particular year, in the front row of one of our classes sat, from our left to our right, some kid who wasn't there half the time, a complete goofball "Phil", and a burnout kid who wasn't very swift named "Jerome". Why the alias Jerome then? You remember Jerome from that 80s classic Summer School...?
Shoop: Hey, I remember you. Where have you been?
Jerome Watkins: Bathroom.
Shoop: For the last six weeks?
Jerome Watkins: My zipper got stuck.
Sorry, go sidetracked. Anyway, Phil was so ADD that he had to sit in the front to prevent him from staring out the window, dazed, at whatever was happening, or else from trying some conversation with somebody around him. Despite this, he was extremely affable, though rarely on the right side of passing. For similar reasons, burnout Jeb also sat in the front row. Phil would often, in a very likable way, try to chat with one or both of us teachers about... well, anything else... during class. Often, his hand would shoot up and something random would come out. What did we think of the Giants game last weekend? Did you guys know that if you are driving without your seatbelt, you could get a ticket? Hey, I was watching wrestling this weekend and I was thinking of our lesson about, you know, squares and stuff. You get the point.
So one day we're giving a test. Jerome happened to show up that day and, like Jerome from "Summer School", in all likelihood got the best grade in the class. We're about ten minutes into the test and it's really quiet. But quickly, it becomes evident that Phil did not feel comfortable with the material. Phil starts looking up to see if we're looking at him, and if not, he gives the old "yawn, cough, and head-turn" about as obviously as a 13-year-old boy on a first date. Jeb, who was uncharacteristically awake on this particular day, was always worse off than Phil in terms of being aware of one's surroudings, and he didn't even catch on that Phil was attempting to get Jeb to help him out somehow. Jeb is looking at Phil, puzzled, and then looking back at his paper. Occassionaly, Phil then tries somehow to look at Jerome's paper, but Jerome is indifferent to all other students and is working at an angle where it is clear that Phil won't be able to see much in that direction. Soon Phil's stage-whisper-like attempts to cheat became comical to the point that everybody else in the class is starting to look at Phil.
Mike and I catch eyes and we decide, unspoken, that one of us must say something and it's going to be Mike. Mike nods and walks closer to Phil. Usually, in situations like these, teachers will quietly "re-focus" the student or deal with it discreetly. But Mike, in his unique style, stands in front of Phil and says loudly enough for the class to hear, "Phil, why are you trying to cheat off of these two guys? This guy [Jeb] is asleep half the time, and this guy [Jerome] hasn't been here in three weeks."
A number of things happened spontaneously and simultaneously. I looked down at my attendance book, which happened to be open in front of me, and it confirmed that yes, Jerome hadn't been there for about three weeks. Jerome, who had been hard at work, looked up puzzled at what was happening. Phil smiled a big goofy "you got me, wow, how did you know?" look at Mike. Jeb laughed self-effacingly at the fact that he was a burnout who never knew what was happening and was half-asleep often. Several students chuckled.
A combination of strong feelings, both positive and negative, about my situation of teaching this class which I had been telling myself was way "below" me, all arose at once. And, looking at these goofball faces in front of me from left to right, I lost it. I started laughing so hard that I literally fell down to the floor. Once students saw me like this (and I was usually all business, I never was like this), it started them laughing. Just as I was controlling my laughter, I looked up at my students, caught eyes with Phil and Jeb's goofy faces again, and lost it even more. I had to leave the room and laugh to myself for about 3 or 4 minutes straight. Finally, I composed myself, went back in the room, and we all chuckled for a little bit.
There was an implicit understanding, I'd like to think, on the part of all the students and on our part as teachers that we were acknowledging our own goofiness and the goofiness of the situation in general. Phil always took our joking on him well, especially when Mike did it, and he was laughing as well. Finally, we all focused and got back to work.
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