Cape Cod Sports Desk

He can hide his own Easter eggs, folks

We sit at the foot of a great opportunity.

   With the NFL draft only months away, the opportunity exists to see just how important brains are in the NFL. A guy who seemed like a pretty solid #1 pick- Texas quarterback Vince Young- racked up a score of 6 on the Wonderlic, which is the NFL scouting combine's intelligence test.

   A fifty is perfect. A zero is inanimate. 19-21 is the average score. A six speaks of near/total illiteracy. A cabbage would get a six. A 2nd grader stands a good chance of breaking a six. A chicken could peck at the test paper and beat a six. If you took the test and TRIED to get questions wrong, you'd stand a good chance of fouling up enough to get a six.

   Vince probably isn't score-a-six dumb. I've administered a few tests in my day. I've seen these tests fouled up in every possible way. I'm thinking that Vince got a six for one of these reasons:

- Vince looked at the test briefly, after which he just filled in a bunch of ovals and used the extra time to go to McDonald's. I used to see that all the time when I was counseling- if you don't give a damn, a test is just a chance to be given a breather.

- Vince started at the END of the test, unwittingly beginning with the more difficult questions. I'd add that he probably spent a lot of time on the harder questions, and the time ran out before he could get to the beginning for the "What is frozen water called?" gimme questions.

- Vince was thinking of something else when the tester told hm that he only had 12 minutes to complete the test.

- Vince saw a pretty tester, and then spent the test time silently flirting with her.

- Vince needs glasses, and doesn't know it yet.

- Vince has an undiagnosed learning disability.

- Vince fell asleep while the test was being given.

- Vince kept clean, took his drug test, then ran out to the parking lot and got high right before the Wonderlic.

- Vince has Test Anxiety, and freezes like Alaska when handed a standardized test.

- Vince sees a What is the first letter in "Cat" question, thinks that the test is trying to trick him, and it can't be " C." He then answers "A."

- Sabotage. I had kids who didn't want to go back to their mainstream school, and fouled the test up on purpose to keep them at their comfy SPED school with the French chef history teacher. Maybe Vince doesn't want to play for the Jets or the Raiders, so he's trying to lower his draft position by coming across as being really, really dumb.

OR

- Vince is really, really dumb.

   To be honest, Vince's reasons are his own. It doesn't really matter how dumb you are when you make every hike of the football into a serious scoring chance. Vince won't drop that badly in the draft, and he will bank several million dollars over the course of his career.

   Much like being blonde, being an athlete is a more instinctive thing in which brains matter less than strength/speed. All the brains in the world won't help you when the offensive line breaks down, while fast feet are like a Godsend. David Carr probably scored well, but he got sacked more than groceries last year.

   So, Vince can be as dumb as a mud fence... it doesn't matter. In fact, many coaches like the tabula rasa that a stupid kid gives them- football plays are complicated, and you don't want Vince thinking about the Holocaust or the Renaissance while he's dropping back in the pocket.

   Multiple Intelligence advocates know that Vince is smart in his own way. He just has an athletic, rhythymic intelligence that isn't accounted for when people are crafting these Wonderlics. He'll be a-ight.

Wonderlic test.... ESPN.com: Page 2 : So, how do you score?

Drop The Gloves

For those of you that are new to blogging, this is an example of Link Whoring.

Someone named Joey Tasca sent this link to someone who writes the Off Wing Opinion blog, who linked to Mr. Irrelevant, who I stole it from. The Blogosphere works like that, and eventually someone will write to Joey Tasca, asking him to check out the fight that he originally put out on the internet himself.

Of course it's confusing. It's supposed to be.

Anyhow, here's a pretty good hockey fight, from the Romanian league. A lot of blood spills, although the old-timers I've shown it to already don't think it's that hot.

http://www.ericmcerlain.com/offwingopinion/archives/005778.php#005778

I grew up in Boston, so I immediately saw that a few cardinal hockey fight rules were broken there... which is why that got so ugly.

- Drop the gloves... cause you have to drop the sticks to do so.

- Never be the third man in... because that is always followed by 4th-30th men in, and they all come in behind you.

- If your teammate is fighting 3 guys and you don't jump in, you're a p*ssy.

- Even if you win the fight, never be the guy who chooses to fight someone in front of another team's bench, especially in a bench-clearer.

- Helmets. No one would take those lumberjack swings at your head unless you were wearing a helmet.

- Goalies should always fight each other, because they are more heavily armored.

Hockey fights don't REALLY get bad until:

- fans end up in it

- cops come out to break it up, and players fight THEM.

- The ice gets littered with smuggled-in whiskey bottles

- someone gets bitten (Ken Linseman was known for this)

Derek Sanderson fought 5 guys at once back in his day, and he noted that fighting 5 guys is actually easier than fighting one because "every punch you throw hits someone."

Prez Quotes

George Washington, upon being given command of the army during the Revolution: "This will be the commencement of the decline of my reputation."

John Adams writing to his wife, who had mentioned that he was 60 years old in a letter: "How dare you? If I were closer to you, I'd convince you that I'm not a day over 40."

Thomas Jefferson, to an Italian diplomat bad-mouthing a sloppy Virginia church: "It is good enough for He that was born in a manger."

James Madison, when urged not to speak from his deathbed: "I always speak most easily when I lie."

James Monroe, as he attacked Alexander Hamilton with a pair of tongs: "You damned infernal old scoundrel!"

John Quincy Adams, upon running for the House after being President: "No person... could ever be degraded by representing his people in Congress."

Andrew Jackson (who deserves his own entry), when presented a list of shootings/stabbings/brawls that people from his hometown gave in hopes of deterring voters from making him president: "Ahh...old Salisbury... I was a rough lad then, but I did my best."

Thomas Benton, on Martin Van Buren succeeding Andy Jax: "For once, the rising sun is eclipsed by the setting sun."

Benton on William Henry Harrison: "Give him a pension and a barrel of hard cider, and... he will... sit by a sea coal fire and study moral philosophy."

Toney, one of John Tyler's slaves, when asked his opinion of Tyler taking a woman much younger than he for a wife: "Massa... you be in your prime now... but when she's in her prime, where will your prime be?"

James Polk, on handshaking "When I saw a strong man, I took advantage of being quicker than he, and got him by the tips of his fingers before he could rend my arm from me."

Zachary Taylor, when approached to run for President: "Stop that nonsense and finish your whiskey."

Millard Fillmore: "I detest slavery... but we must endure it... till we can get rid of it without destroying the last free government in the world."

Franklin Pierce, upon losing his bid for a second term: "There is nothing left.. but to get drunk."

Bachelor President James Buchanan, when asked why there was no First Lady:  "That, madam, is my misfortune, not my fault."

Abe Lincoln (who also deserves his own entry), when called "two-faced" by a Stephen Douglas during a debate: "I leave it to my audience... if I had two faces, would i wear this one?"

Andrew Johnson, to Jefferson Davis: "If I could not unsheathe my sword in vindication of my country, i would return it to the scabbard. I would never sheathe it in the bosom of my mother."

Ulysses S. Grant: "I know only two tunes. One of them is 'Yankee Doodle,' and the other isn't."

General Rutherford B. Hayes, when urged to run against Lincoln: "I shall never come to Washington, until I can come by way of Richmond."

James Garfield's doctor, on treating the still-living Garfield after his assassination attempt: "Some people say that prayer has saved the President... in my opinion, it was the whiskey."

Chester Arthur, on retirement: "There doesn't seem anything for an ex-President to do... but go into the country and raise big pumpkins."

Grover Cleveland fathered a child out of wedlock, and rivals used to chant "Ma, Ma, where's my pa?" Once GC won the election, his supporters would answer that chant with "Off to the White House... Ha Ha Ha!"

Benjamin Harrison: "I can not name my own cabinet... my party managers have sold out every seat on it to secure my election."

William McKinley, after watching his first football game: "They didn't have no game; they got into a fight and kept fightin'... when they ought to have been playing ball."

Theodore Roosevelt, on the battle of Kettle Hill (what he called the San Juan Charge): "I killed a Spaniard with my own hand... like a jackrabbit... look at those damned Spanish dead... Oh, but we have had a bully fight."

William Taft, on losing his bid for a second term: "I have but one consolation... no one has ever been elected ex-President by such a large majority."

Woodrow Wilson was giving an outdoor speech, when a small boy fought his way to the front row and asked what the crowd had gathered for. "I guess it is for me," said WW. "Shucks," said the boy. "I thought it was a dogfight."

Warren Harding, on meeting comedian Will Rogers at a White House reception: "This is the first time I ever saw you without paying for it."

Calvin Coolidge (who, despite his taciturn nature, has 10 pages of hilarious quotes) when asked why he went to political dinners that obviously bored him: "A man must eat."

Herbert Hoover, when told by Coolidge (during the Depression) that "you can't expect to see calves in the field the day after you put the bull to the cows," in regards to his acts to stop the Depression: "But I do expect to see contented cows."

Franklin Delano Roosevelt, as described by a NY Republican leader: "Don't be fooled by it." The man was aked, "By what?" "By a perfectly grand political personality, you fool!"

Harry Truman, when asked to describe his Presidency: "There's a grave at Boot Hill that says 'Here lies Jack Williams- he done his damndest.' What more can a man do?"

Dwight Eisenhower once asked an aide to golf with him. The aide declined, saying his wife was expecting him home for dinner. "Are you mice or man?" asked Ike. "Man," the aide replied. "My wife is afraid of mice."

JFK, speaking to a crowd in Iowa that wasn't used to a nice Cape Cod accent: "What's wrong with the American fah-mah?" he said. "He's stah-ving" answered the crowd. 

While showing reporters around hus ranch, LBJ stopped to urinate in some bushes. "Aren't you afraid a rattlesnake will bite it?" asked a reporter. LBJ scoffed at the reporter... "Hell, boy, it IS part rattlesnake."

While signing his book The Six Crises, Richard Nixon asked the next person in line who he should address his signature to. "You've just met your seventh crisis. My name is Stanislaus Wojechzleschki."

Gerald Ford, as described by his own wife: "He was an accidental president and an accidental vice president. In both cases, he replaced disgraced leaders."

Jimmy Carter, when asked how he would feel if his daughter had an affair: "Astonished. She's eight."

Ronald Reagan, upon reading that births to teen mothers had tripled during his time running California: "I never felt so young and virile."

George Bush, disparaging an answer given in a debate by Mike Dukakis: "That answer is about as clear as Boston Harbor."

Bill Clinton, upon taking over for Bush: "There is nothing wrong with America that can't be fixed by what is right with America."

George Bush II, after Katrina: "We'll continue to work with the folks down there. But I want to remind the people in that part of the world, 85 billion dollars is a lot. "

***Thanks to Paul Boller, who wrote Presidential Anecdotes, and Perry from Schools For Children, who either gave me the book or didn't bitch much when I stole it.

Why Not?

There's a chance that Mitt Romney may be running this country soon. He's our Governor right now in Massachusetts, and I'll leave it for other times to discuss my feelings for this man and hischances. Either way, he's one of those people you see in those lists of journalist's picks for potential GOP 2008.

He's famous for three things.

1. His dad (on right) was a serious pol back in his day.
   
2. He's done nearly a term running a state that has produced a few Presidents, and managed to lose a Senate race against Teddy.
   
3. He also ran the Olympics one year, and this is where he did his best work in the public sector. He's rich, but so is Allen Iverson.

I've never run a state or a business, but I can guarantee that I could make a lot more $$$ off the Winter Olympics than Mitt Romney did. I'd pick a sort of Evil Cheney type to run all the day to day ruthless stuff, and I'd mostly drink wine. I'd have earned the time off, because my idea would change the world for the better.

I'd simply introduce NFL-style football to the Winter Olympics.

The flaws stand out, granted. I'll list a few- and keep in mind, these are just the ones I thought of. I'm not exactly splitting the atom here on the Cape. There would be problems that I haven't anticipated, but here's what I see:

• No one plays it but us, and it may take a few generations of Dream Team I-esque beatings for Them to pick it up.
• Poor countries may not be able to afford 40 people or so, especially if they eat a lot more than Michelle Kwan does.
• There's probably games- games that we've never played here- that a billion  people like in China or India, and they could care less who Randy Moss is.
• There are plenty of people who can coach an NFL game, and there are plenty of people who speak Mongolian... but there aren't plenty of Mongolian-speaking football coaches.
• If you can glue people to the set with 8-10 skiers, why bring in a full team of 300 pounders?
• You could comb every village in Europe without finding a good cornerback.

Anywho... you get the point. It's risky. It would require grand effort. My vision involves a great deal of help from the NFL itself, as they'd be the ones who'd end up making the money off it.

Maybe your grandchildren's Seahawks will have to go to Liberia for the IFC title game, to play the winner of the Libya/Israel brouhaha. Maybe it'll be your grandchildren's grandchildren... remember that whole cornerback thing from the last reason.

Either way, they should have been playing real football about 30 years ago. Look at how the World Cup brings people together. Sure, they have a lot of riots, but it's always good to know that all those different countries agree on at least one thing.

Maybe they could nudge out some obsolete biathalon kinda sport to make room for some fat winter football. I think that Europeans would call their current football "soccer" after a generation. The NFL could charge $600 million a franchise. Everybody makes out in the end.

Either that, or they make us ride horses and throw a dead goat around... and we all know that Rambo was dominating that game after about 5 minutes. We also know that 12 Argentina guys can beat the NBA All Star team like a lazy serf. We finally know that it would swell the US TV ratings like the 4 hour Viagra stiffy.

That means more money, and that means more gooder.

Someone more important than me should be working on this already.

Much Ado About Snowthing

Sloppy Dog fears no frozen precipitation.  She ran around, snuck her snout in the snow, and pounced a lot. It's a fine beach day if you are part Labrador Retreiver.

To be honest, this really isn't that bad... although we're only about 6 hours into it. The heavy snow bands are working their way over to the Cape, but the worst of it seems to be moving along the I-95 corridor.

We'll rely on my sister in Duxbury- who I can't get through to on the phone- to get us the ocean storm shots. This is Buttermilk Bay, and we don't even have waves.

Part of what defines a Blizzard is the loss of visibility. This is what they mean by that. You can usually see all the way across the harbor.

The same vantage point, in September:

Pretty Much Why I Moved Off Duxbury Beach

Duxbury Beach Nor'easter, January Something, 2005

   "My s***'s more John Blaze than that!"

That's not ocean OR as lake pictured below down there... that's actually an imminent condo development, from the haystacks to the houseboat in the distance... and the main road/only way out is behind the house.

   Behind the road behind the house, we have the Great Salt Marsh and the Cut River. The town is dead enough that you can hear the PA announcer at the Duxbury High (which is behind the marsh) football games over the marsh.

   It will freeze over in a cold winter, and you can skate on salt water. It's bumpy, but it can host a half-fast hockey game. You know you live in New England when you've shot a hockey puck at a lobster pot.

   I'd probably avoid purchasing one of these condos, although taking a canoe across the flood zone to Duxbury High School would be a good Eccentric Teacher move if I ever got a job there.

ess angry storms, a good way to flirt with a fast end to your life is to try a "Death Run."

   "Death Runs" are when you wait for the waves to recede a bit, jump off that seawall onto the beach, and run as far as you can before grabbing onto the wall and pulling yourself up. If your timing sucks (and mine does), you get smashed into a concrete seawall by a huge wave.

   I've seen a few people pay the price doing Death Runs. I saw a kid get bashed off the seawall once, and everybody I know has had at least one good soaking at the hands of Mother Atlantic.

   The seawall was built around 1954, and it needs work in a few spots. The US Army Corps Of Engineers built it. It's about a 6-12 foot drop to the beach,depending on how much beach has been eroded beneath it.

   To my knowledge, it hasn't had a "real" hurricane hit it yet. I think it went up right after Carol, and Duxbury took only glancing blows from Hurricanes Bob/Gloria/Belle etc... The worst wind I ever saw there (we had an anemometer... umm, wind speed thingy) was a 90 mph gust in the Perfect Storm in 1991.

   We usually get Nor'Easters, which are a mid-sized tropical storms that hang around for 6-10 tides. The Perfect Storm and the Blizzard of 1978 were both essentially hurricanes, and they inflicted catastrophic damage on this neighborhood.

   While neither was a Katrina, you don't want to be in an area that is having a 3 day tropical storm. The Perfect Storm hit on October 30th, and waves were still splashing my house on November 2nd.

I slam tracks like quarterback sacks from LT

I'm not as jacked and pumped for this year's Super Bowl as I was last year.

This is understandable. I'm a very parochial fan. I already forgot who won this year's World Series. I wanna say the White Sox, but I could be wrong there.The baseball season ends for me when the Red Sox are eliminated, unless the World Series is particularly compelling for some reason.

This year's Super Bowl would be a good regular season game, but there were many better games that could have been shook out of the NFL schedule. Despite my distaste for the man, I'd have loved to see Peyton and Eli square off in some serious brother-vs-brother hatred. Pittsburgh and Philly would have been good, if someone could have gone out and got T.O. a white quarterback.  I'd like to have seen Tomlinson or Vick fight it out to see who got the better of that draft-day trade a few years back. Chad Johnson would no doubt have been funny enough to fill 2 weeks of hype, and I kind of have a soft spot for the Bears (that Super Bowl in the 1980s meant nothing to me- when I was put to bed, it was 3-0, Patriots).

I even like Pittsburgh. It's difficult not to. Is there anyone out there as Old School as Pittsburgh? I'd root for the Taliban if Bill Cowher and that mammoth, jutting chin of his were coaching them. Nothing says "football" more than a 250 pound running back up the middle, and have the Steelers ever had a bad defense? They even have an Angry Samoan, who hits like an iced bong- hard, and with the tendency to leave one relatively lightheaded afterwards. I'd try to spell his name, but I don't want him angry with me.

Seattle is a nice story in themselves- a Cinderella story of guys getting absolutely no respect whatsoever, who somehow ended up playing when Mr. Chunky Soup and Mr. Five Layers Of Protection were off on vacation. They are well-coached, they run the ball well, and they've won all the important games they've had. Throw the Massachusetts QB (who I think I saw play when his Xaverian squad took on Duxbury High School) in with stopping Indianapolis' run at the consecutive wins record, and I should adore the guys.

I don't. Something about Seattle evokes the phrase "also-ran" from me. Maybe it's their relative Cherry status insofar as battle-testedness goes. Maybe it's that no-name defense. Maybe it's the fact that Vegas didn't give them a chance of being here when they set the preseason odds... Vegas wasn't built on losing. I like to think that I'm not so shallow as to dislike a team because they have really ugly uniforms, but I'll admit that (perhaps and most likely subliminally) those b-u-t-t uniforms could influence my betting on this contest. I wouldn't wear that rag of a jersey to a sh** fight.

That said, it's the last legitimate football game until next September, and only the process of cooking (or a child-based problem, which I plan on attempting to minimize by running them ragged during the afternoon before the game) will take my eyes from the screen. Yes, there is a TV in the kitchen.

The hype is fun. There is a proven chance that a celebrity will be stripped. Candice Michelle- a WWE diva who looks like she was put together in Hugh Hefner's Frankenstein lab- should have another GoDaddy commercial. The Rolling Stones concert should provide a fine opportunity to walk Sloppy Dog around the block. I have enough food to fatten Somalia.

It's all good. As far as the game goes, the two teams seem to be pretty evenly matched. Forced to go to the bookie, my call is:

Pittsburgh, 23-20.

The Cape's Greatest Athletes

Cotuit Kettleer Howie Bearse (on right in Barnstable H.S. gear in 1950) died last week, and he deserves to be recognized as what comes up when someone enters "Cape Cod's Greatest Athlete" into a search engine. He swung a helluva bat, and center field was his domain. He is mentioned as our best player, on several sites.

 The internet holds no compendium of great Cape Cod athletes, so I decided that I should put on the hard hat and break earth on this project.

We're a distinct region, very different than even neighboring regions like Plymouth County (tiny and tony Duxbury alone has generated an NBA player, a Nike bigwig, an indie-rock darling, a few Aerosmith guys, Truman Capote, several Pilgrims, and Monponsett Friggin' Stacey), and some wannabe athlete kid should be able to hop onto the Internet and find an inspiring story of some kid who has hit thrown footballs at both dunes AND Lambeau Field.

   Just one small problem...

   We've never generated a top-notch professional athlete.

Don't think that it's just a matter of me not looking that hard. I sent mail to Walter, and he hasn't got back to me yet... and I know Walter well enough to know that he is asking someone as I type this. I won AOL's sports blogger contest, have a history degree, and can name the starting 5 of Celtic teams that played a full 15 years before I was born. I can name one (who we'll get to later) and he isn't even a real athlete.

AOL's Sports Community Manager, a native of Popponesset, said "Uhm...." when I asked him.  Hitting "Cape Cod NBA" into a Google Search brings up a Dead Bloggers Society article. Most other Cape Sports Googlings yield stuff I wrote.

   SI.com - SI 50th - Massachusetts has no one closer than the 1938's Master's winner, Henri Picard of Plymouth.

   Maybe it's the easy living. People are quick to point out the high ratio of black to white boxers or power forwards, although I feel that phenomena to be more of a case of socioeconomics than "ni***rs jump higher" or "white guys can only punt." There may be a mellowing effect of sea breezes and sand-in-the-toes that drives a woman to open an antiques store rather than try to get into the WNBA.

   I suppose I could lighten the strength of the strain, and use:

- people who grew up near Cape Cod (Marvin Hagler, Doug Flutie, Rocky Marciano, Mickey Cochrane)

- people who played minor league ball here (Wade Boggs, Jeff Bagwell)

- people who vacationed here (you could probably tell me better than I could tell you)

- really obscure sports (many of the world's great curlers converge on the town of Falmouth every summer, for some reason)

   But that's all BS, and even I know it. I want a kid who went to Barnstable High School, a kid who snuck into the Mill Hill Club, a kid who's got laid on Monument Beach. I'm sort of researching this as I write it, but I already know that the best I'll do is finding a World Cup sailor or two.... BRB

   OK... hold on to your hats.

   Bob Perryman, who went to Bourne High, later starred at Michigan. He then came home to play for the Pats for a few seasons.

   Todd Eldredge, a champion figure skater, is a Chatham kid. Nancy Kerrigan trained here (Tonya Harding's goons considered taking her out on Route 3 in Plymouth, with a rifle), and some equestrian bronze medalist is from Westport... which at least smells salty. That's pretty much it.

  The Celtics used to train at MMA, and The Short Season by John Powers is briefly issued from there. Steve Kuberski is quoted a lot. John Havlicek skipped camp that year.

   The Falmouth 10K and the Cape Cod Marathon have had a lot of famous feet storming down our sand, but we may as well start listing sledders at that point. I only like joggers when there are no potential witnesses around. I see them as hazards to navigation. Frank Shorter and Bill Rogers were among the many epic emissaries of the Eliot Lounge.

  The NHL has had a few minor league teams on the Cape. WWE CEO Vince McMahon owned a team, as well as the infamous Cape Cod Coliseum. We got 2 seasons out of the Cape Cod Codders, the 1978-79 Cape Cod Freedoms (who skipped town for Virginia), and we also had the Cubs and the 1980-81 Buccaneers.

   NHL vet Nick Fotiu played for the Cubs in 1972, and rolled up a copious 371 penalty minutes in 72 games. I found a Cubs tshirt for sale on eBay:

   The brief research I did showed that the Buccaneers played a shortened 38 game schedule, and were on the serious Slap Shot tip. $15,000 bought you a team, the team stats show a high points-to-penalty minutes ratio, the same guy owned 2 teams in the same conference (Atlantic Coast Hockey League)... and after Fitchburg and Schenectady folded, it was Cape Cod and 4 teams from Baltimore and Carolina. I mention Bill Cotter and Fred Ahern only because they wore the Cape's colors proudly and deserve to be on the Internet somewhere.

   Here's the logo for the Cape Cod Buccaneers:

197 CCBL players in MLB in 2004
In 2004, there were 197 Cape Cod Baseball League players in MLB....  and they must have lived somewhere around here. Nomar, Frank Thomas, Will Clark, Jeff Reardon, and dozens of other huge names worked these fields, and they will get proper due in a future entry.

   If I left out someone you think deserves mentioning, let me know... he may just move up into the top 3, even if he plays Ultimate Frisbee or something.  This is one of those cases where the blogger wants to be corrected by the audience. Paul Stewart and Bobby Allietta would have watched this article roll right by them if KMA and Gees didn't speak up.