Best Things: Garmin GPS Watch

I have tried many different things to figure out my running pace -- various apps on my phone, pedometers, old-fashioned watches...but it was not until I got my Garmin GPS watch was I truly able to gauge and improve my times.

A year or so ago, I was somewhat pleased with the performance of one of my apps in telling me my time, distance, pace, and all that good stuff. However, I found that often times it had my route wildly wrong, the GPS having fallen out somewhere in the middle of my run, or I found myself constantly pulling out my phone (or wrenching my arm to see) what I was doing. I needed to find a different way.

I read a lot of reviews pointing me towards GPS watches, and my research landed me on the Garmin Forerunner 110. There are other models -- some more expensive, some that sync wirelessly to the computer, some that give a lot more details than this -- but this one hit had what I needed, and hit the right price point.

What did I need? I wanted to know how far I was going, and how quickly I was doing it. Added bonus of this watch was compatibility with a heart rate monitor, which helped me gauge my exertion at certain points in my run so I could adjust accordingly. This was definitely not necessary. The face was large enough for me to easily see things at a quick glance while I am running, and the wristband was small enough to fit on my wrist (I have rather narrow ones).

Let's Catch a Game

Representing the green & gold!

One day, I received an email from my friend P regarding our upcoming trip to New York... would I mind maybe going to a baseball game instead of seeing Mamma Mia? Maybe this Yankees team or something?

Would I?

One of my "bucket list" items is to visit all the MLB ballparks. I am not sure this will ever happen, but I am certainly not going to stop trying.

I'd missed previous opportunities to go to the old Yankees Stadium, so I was really excited to go to the new one. We checked out the seating maps and chose what seemed to be great seats (I always find it hard with these newer ball parks... there is often some sort of obstruction risk).

When game day arrived, we decided to drive into the City early from New Jersey, park near the stadium and then go sightsee. This ended up working perfectly...there is a lot directly across from the stadium that cost around 30$ and had very easy access in & out. The subway is also conveniently located directly across the street from the entrance, which made the sightseeing/head back combo super easy.

Once we got to the stadium, a little asking around confirmed that if it is your first visit to the stadium, you can get a special certificate. The office to do this is located behind center field; they are very friendly and print the certificate while you wait! It's a great free souvenir.

The thing that amazed me most was being in a tank top throughout the entire game, with no need for a sweater. This is crazy to me, where, in the middle of summer, we're often found in several layers of clothing!

I was a little worried that people would get irritated with me explaining baseball to the Swedes, but that wasn't the case at all!  Out in right field, the fans were great, and we even made a few new friends. Hot dog and beer in hand, life was pretty good. (and the Yankees lost...yippee!)

Like, Gag Me with a Spoon

This past weekend, a group of friends & I tumbled out of bed far too early (well, rather, we had stayed out far too late the night before...rookie move) to head over to the park and participate in the first Awesome 80's Run.

Despite our moods, we were excited to get all dressed up in various shades of neon, put our hair in side pony's or pigtails, and head over to the event. As we rolled up, we could hear the 80's music pounding throughout the concourse, and we were ready to dance (and did...nothing like an 8am dance party).

We took our tutu-clad behinds over to the start line, and that's where things went downhill. The chute for the start was on the opposite side of the street, which meant crossing through folks running the 5K to get there. It also meant getting kind of yelled at if you found a break in the 5Kers to run across and get there. Because of this, we had to wait around 15 or so minutes after the start time to actually get going. It should be noted...it was important to go through the chute itself as that was the only timing mat on the entire route (until the finish).

Before I complain too much, I must say...people got REALLY into the costumes. I don't remember ever seeing so much neon in one place...there were groups of Care Bears, Pac-Man & his Ghosts, Double Dare participants, even dogs in hot 80s colors. At the start, everyone had a smile on their face and were ready to get down and have some fun.

Run, Annie, Run!

The Finisher Medals are Wine Stoppers!	Some pumpkins @ Dry Creek General Store
I did it! The Healdsburg Half was a great time...I actually ran the full 13.1 miles (a first for me; I usually have to walk some), and it was a really beautiful course and morning. When we started, it was probably about 40 degrees. BRRR. I don't think it has ever been so cold when I've started a race. It was still dark, but the sun was trying to peek out over the Coppola winery as we started. We ran right along side the freeway for a mile, then turned onto a lovely road that took us through vineyards and past wineries. My friend Mark, pictured above, ran the whole time with me, which was really nice of him (he is a lot faster than me). While I didn't finish in the time I had originally hoped, thanks to some poorly timed bathroom stops and me just being slow, I am so excited that I ran the entire thing. W00T!
Sweet Daji	I assume I had a treat
After the race, we headed back to the cabin and rested for a bit. Then off to some wine tasting! Our first stop was at the Dry Creek General Store, a gem of a deli right on Dry Creek. We had run right past it that morning, the sun barely shining, so it was great to visit with the heat turned up and the sun shining down. I truly love the autumn here in Northern California. After that, we headed to Amista Vineyards, a dog-friendly spot right on Dry Creek Road. We grabbed a bottle of Chardonnay and lounged on their lovely patio. The dogs absolutely loved it, and their owners did, too! Running 13.1 miles will tire a person out, so we soon went to rest our weary muscles. I can't imagine what running further would be like...and I don't think I will ever find out. I'm perfectly happy and proud of myself for finishing this bad boy!
A few late-harvest grapes	A cool trike at Amista
My boy.

March Madness: Mad Marketing

March Madness -- the affectionate term for the crazy few weeks of the NCAA Men's Basketball tournament -- came to an end tonight. One team went home extremely happy, 67 others finished up a little sadder, and the whole viewing audience waited for the 2011 version of "One Shining Moment."



Most of you know I am a complete sport nut. I am also a marketer, and have been thinking quite a bit about this tournament from that perspective the last few weeks.

Because it's brilliant.

March Madness kicks off "Selection Sunday," an event where each match up is unveiled, with cameras on the bubble teams to watch them as their dreams come true, or are dashed. A few days later, traditionally on Thursday & Friday (this year there were a few pre-round of 64 games), the tournament starts with back-to-back days packed with games (starting at 9amish and wrapping up about 9pmish on both days). 64 teams face off from across the country, and college basketball fans sit in their favorite watering holes, filled out brackets in front of them, and park for the day, watching their brackets fill or bust.

Oh, yes, the brackets. Somewhere along the line, someone had the genius idea to allow fans to fill out brackets, where they would decide, game-by-game, who the winner would be, whittling it down to the final four, finals, and winner. While gambling this way is illegal, filling out brackets has become an event in and of itself, filling those 3 days from announcement to tip-off with anxiety, excitement, and second guesses.

Already, in looking at what I wrote, I see a marketer's dream come true. "Selection Sunday." Bubble teams. Round of 64. All terms introduced and made popularized by this event. And make no mistake, this is indeed an event.

Much like the NFL has been able to market itself as something that can't be missed, so has the NCAA and March Madness. Even those rather uninterested in sports take part in filling out a bracket, cheering on a team, watching those first couple of crazy games. The tournament continues for 3 weeks, culminating in the Final Four/Finals weekend. This has to be one of the most coveted tickets in American sports (perhaps just by me). And why? Because most of the players will ply their trade no further than this moment; they will go on to be something else entirely. But here, in this stage, they have the opportunity to be the best -- beat a team they never should have (and this often happens, this year's finals is evidence!), win the ultimate honor of their sport's careers. And it is pretty awesome.

Hence, "One Shining Moment." This is often the thing we look most forward to at the final game. This simple, cheesy video. Facebook newsfeeds fill up with comments on it. Twitter trends it. And the marketing folks behind the NCAA finals do a happy dance of joy. They have done their job, made accessible something that could seem a little out of reach, and made it common knowledge.

Brills, really.

Over the last two weeks...most San Franciscan's I know have come down with World Cup fever.

It happens pretty consistently every 4 years. We get up early to watch the games, be they the USA or other countries. We throw parties. We wear our colors with pride. Then the Cup ends, and we forget for another four years.

And each four years, we are reminded that Americans don't like soccer. That it will never catch on in the USA. That no one is interested. But I have to beg to differ.

For starters...our women's team is consistently one of the top in the world, if not the best. Why, yes, I realize "it's not the same," but soccer is hugely popular with women. I feel like everyone I knew played soccer as a kid...and the common belief is many girls continue to play while the guys go play sports where they may net more scholarships and money.

This is, however, changing. We are competing on the worldwide stage. We made it, again, to the World Cup; many world powerhouses did not. We made it out of the first round...16 other teams did not. We should amazing strength and poise when we were clearly screwed on goals, yellow cards, and calls. (as an aside...the officiating has been TERRIBLE this entire World Cup, and is making the case for some sort of replay being introduced)

The argument goes it will never be a big sport here. My question is...does it have to be? Basketball, football, baseball...the big three. Golf, NASCAR, Tennis; they are all kind of niche sports. Popular, but niche. (can you sit and watch a full golf tourney or NASCAR race?) I think it's ok if soccer stays kind of niche. I would like to see it getting a little more respect -- these players are running at almost top speed for 90+ minutes on a huge field with very few substitutions. This is not an easy task. This is not a wussy sport.

I think soccer has caught on in the USA; hopefully it will grow a bit in popularity so the professional leagues stay viable. But, much like other sports, its popularity will peak every 4 years with the World Cup, much like swimming and track does at the Olympics.

And, no, we don't call it football. We call it soccer. It is derived from "association football," and, according to Wikipedia, "The term soccer originated in England, first appearing in the 1880s as an Oxford "-er" abbreviation of the word 'association.'" A few other countries use soccer, as well. If you are a native American (as in, born/raised here, not tribal), and you call it football, you might as well have a sign tattooed on your forehead branding you a pretentious douchebag. It is lame.

Another Lovely Day, Another Lovely Race

I had done my best to get to bed early after a long day at The Princess Project, but sometimes the best laid plans go awry. So when my alarm started sounding at about 6am on a Sunday morning, I again hit the snooze more times than I should have.

Even at the early hour, there were hints of the sweet sweet day that lay ahead. I took my eager poochie on his walk -- unfortunately he bore the brunt of this weekend and was not happy about it -- and the crisp air had that warm low breeze I so love. Once the dog was securely in the house (this sounds easy, but the minute he got a sense that I was leaving he darted out into the hallway, and entertained himself running up and down, past my door and seemingly oblivious to my demands to get his little butt back into the house, for a good 5 minutes), I took off to get my friend and start the day.

At 8am the horn sounded, and we were off and running the Presidio10, a race benefiting traumatic brain injury (TBI). The sun was rising over the City, and the air was warming up. I swear, the organizers of the race must have a connection to Mother Nature, because for a second year, you could not have asked for a more perfect day. On a typical day, it is so windy on the Golden Gate Bridge that it could almost blow you over. The two times I have done this race...hardly a breeze.

This year held a little more meaning for me. A family friend is recovering from a TBI; his mere survival is nothing less than a miracle, and I can only hope that continuing research in this arena can help even more like him. He was definitely on my mind as I raced.

We started to tucker out towards the end, but still finished in what for me was a personal best, so I am pretty excited! The best part about the early morning start? All the exercise for the day was done, and it was off to brunch and Mimosas!!

Brannieketology: How Does She Do It?

So...I like sports. A lot. And I REALLY LOVE the NCAA Men's Hoops tourney. I am in shock that this is the first post I have ever written on it...

Anywhoodle...one of the proudest moments in my life goes something like this: I am sick as a dog in bed. The year? Probably 2002. I can barely lift my head from the pillow, and, after watching the Maryland Terps win the NCAA, I had turned the station to watch the A's Opening Night (I was supposed to be there...but...sick).

Suddenly, my phone rings. I am startled and answer it, only to hear my friend Aaron going crazy, babbling some nonsense about how I am going to have to buy him dinner and that I won and blah blah. "Ok, cool," I say, not really knowing or caring what the hell he said. The next morning, it dawned on me...I had won the phat pool Aaron had put together. YIPPEE!!

As I write this, it is the end of the first night of the 2009 tourney, and I am tied for 2nd in my pool. I went 13 for 16 today. I know you're wondering:

How Does She Do It?

It is quite scientific. Or something like that.

First...who has done me good/bad in the past. Maryland, they always get to go a little further... Kansas, usually doesn't make it out of the first round. They really screwed me over in 2003.

Then...what coaches do I like? Easy...Izzo of MSU, Kryzkesky (spelling, I know) of Duke, Calhoun of UCONN, Pittino of Louisville.

Next...other sentimental things. Marquette always gets out of the first round in my bracket. Why? Because my dad works at a produce market, and has since he was 19...hence, he went to the University of Mar-ket. UCLA because I loved Steve Lavin when I was in college and they still get my loyalty.

There are always the fringe teams...Cal usually moves on in my bracket; I grew up near there and have cheered for them my whole life. However, I feel their playing really lacked in the last few games -- once they knew they were going to the Dance, they forgot to show for the rest of their season -- and I don't like that.

After all that is decided upon, I actually look at some stats. I usually pay a lot of attention towards the end of the season, and know at least somewhat of who's beating who, who's starting to drag...and make decisions thusly. I use who historically (in my mind) has done well in the tourney, who has choked...with the 8/9 teams, I usually pick the "upset." Once you get to the middle, they are all pretty even anyway.

This is all such a crapshoot. And that, my friends, is the beauty of THE DANCE!

A Final Thought...

So my favorite part of the Olympics - swimming - has now come to a conclusion. It makes me a little sad...outside of the Olympics it is pretty difficult to watch high-caliber swimming, but also a bit happy, as I can get to bed at a decent hour! Don't get me wrong, I will still be watching the Olympics, just not with the same vigor I have been.

As I watched the finales last night, I thought about the week gone by I was once again truly amazed and inspired. From the awesome Michael Phelps, to the totally awe-inspiring Dara Torres, to the swimmer in one of the unseeded freestyle heats who finished the first Olympic swimming race for his country, to the Israeli swimmer whose father died a few days before his race...these are just a few stories among many.

For two weeks, the world gets to take a pause from the horrible, and just concentrate on something remarkable and, for the most part, positive (except when the athletes test that way). These are people, from all walks of life, who have reached the pinnacle of their sport, and are just giving it their all.

Yes, many are naturally gifted. As Torres says, she has a fast twitch reflex that helps her in the sprints, but she still has to work her ass off to get where she is. The dedication that goes into reaching the Olympics, in pretty much any sport, is something I cannot even fathom.

So I say, good on you, athletes!

On a more shallow note, I noticed last night that the swimmers wear different suits depending on what stroke their doing. The freestylers seem to wear those RZRs, the breaststrokers wear suits that only go to their knees, and for the men, the butterfliers wear just pants. I would like to put in my vote that the men always opt for the pants-only option. The display there is also awe-inspiring!

Boy or Girl?

As you know, I am having trouble NOT watching the Olympics (case in point: it is 11.30pm on a school night, I had toe surgery today, and still cannot stop watching until this damn relay is over). But, I am starting to have a problem...

The problem is with these Speedo RZR suites. If i happen to leave the room, and come back in to a new race, and miss the intro, I often have no clue if it is a men's race or a women's race.

(yes, I know if I look hard enough, I can tell... but the camera doesn't always pan down that quickly)

Those suits flatten out even the most buxom of ladies. Couple that with the swim caps and goggles, and, well, who the hell is swimming?

I don't mind that they wear the suits. I think technology evolves, and sports evolve, and you have to use what you can as long as it is available to everyone (and legal). The problem I have is that they are fug, especially on the men.

While I am at it, I don't understand why they are taking away our eyecandy, either. Swimming used to be the time when we could admire the lovely male form, all cut and freakishly strong and smooth. Now, they cover themselves with these old-fashioned looking ladies' suits. Men still get beach volleyball, which is almost pornographic. What do we ladies get in beach volleyball? Men with dorky tanktops and baggy shorts. UNFAIR I say!

I don't care if this is shallow. I love the sport of the Olympics, but I love the pretty, too. And I am feeling jipped here.

Is He Human?

After watching days of Olympic coverage, this is what I have been wondering about Michael Phelps. The dude is breaking records left and right, and never looks tired at the end of the race.

Finally, tonight, after swimming the 200 Butterfly, he looked pooped. The man has done a bunch of races already, so his body must be getting a little tired. Until tonight, it didn't look like it. After he touched the wall, setting yet another World Record, he did not look so spritely.

I am a total Olympic-a-holic right now. I want to be home watching them all day. I am staying up way to late watching the "live" program, then getting up and watching whatever I recorded in the middle of the night, resulting in running late for work. I have been cheering and crying for the swimmers (still a sport dear to my heart). Beach volleyball...I am digging it.

I've been a little freaked out by the synchronized divers. And the itty bitty mens gymnasts. I mean, those dudes are little. And freakishly strong. I watched some weird events at like 2 in the morning on Monday... I can't remember what they are, but they were odd.

2 more weeks?! Both a blessing and a curse.

Wildflower 2008: On the Race

Well...I finished!

Back in January, a few friends and I were talking about Wildflower. One was trying to convince the other to do the Mountain Bike Triathlon course. I said, I would do it! It sounded like fun...I had only experienced Wildflower as a worker, and that was 10 years ago, so it would be great to see what it was like on the athlete side. And...why not do a triathlon?

I actually never thought I would say that. Much in the same way I said I would never do a half marathon (or more), I am sure at some point I emphatically said I would never do a triathlon, no matter the distance. This is why I try not to use the word never anymore; it always comes back to bite you!

My attitude towards training was as it has been in the past: not that interested. I swam a few times, ran once or twice, and rode the spin bike a lot. That was probably the most I did. But, I went in feeling good and just wanting to have fun.

My biggest mistake was probably not renting a wetsuit, but instead borrowing my friend's surf suit. I figured, 1/4 mile, what did it matter what type of suit I wore? This decision came back to bite me. I had never put on a wetsuit, much less swam in one, so I had no idea how different a surf suit is than a tri suit. Trust me: big difference.

I lined up along with all the other old ladies in my group. I jumped in the water to get a feel for it, and thought, hey, not bad. Soon, it was countdown time. 5...4...3...2...1...go! I jumped in to start my swim, and almost immediately, felt a tear in my right shoulder. The wetsuit was bearing down on something, and not allowing me to get any range of motion. So I started to doggie paddle, and tried not to drown. Apparently, with tri wetsuits, they thin out the joints so you can actually get a full stroke in. Lesson learned!

It took me longer than I thought it would to get out of the water, and unfortunately, I had to use my legs a lot more than I had wanted to, so I was starting to get tired by the time I got to my bike. I changed, got on the bike, and headed on out.

The bike course was a lot hillier than we thought it would be. I also learned that I have no confidence on my bike. I was scared to go downhill, scared to build up the momentum I needed to get up the next hill. I also have no idea what gears to use. Another good lesson learned.

The bike took me a bit longer than I thought it would, but soon I was finished and ready to run. Thank god! I was hoping the Cal Poly kids at the turnaround would have a beer for me, but no such luck. I finished strong and crossed the finish line. Whoo-hoo.

I had a great time with the tri, and although I didn't go fast, I did finish. I can't wait for the next one!

Oh, Barry.

Barry Bonds got indicted. You know I am not Bonds fan, but...

They say they've had this evidence for years. So why now? Also, why is this a federal case in the first place? Why is my tax money going to find out if there are steroids in baseball and if people are lying about it (DUH). If MLB wanted to investigate, fine, let them pay.

But, if they are going to go after Bonds, they need to go after every one of the other guys who have lied about this. And, as far as his records go… I feel like you have to look at this in the context of the game at the time. And that context = steroids. Just like other drugs were prevalent in other times, so are steroids now. Does that make it right? No. But if you are going to take this away, best to go back and investigate all the other records, too.

Fact is this…hitting a baseball is one of the hardest feats in sports. Hitting that ball well, even harder. So with or without steroids, he is a pretty amazing baseball player. (even if he is a huge-headed jerk)

Football Already?

Last night I was talking to a friend, who was very excited; apparently she has tickets to tonight's 49ers game and field passes. I was excited for her, as well, but couldn't help thinking: Is it football season already?

Apparently, it is. Or, to be more exact, it is pre-season. But still, it seems to me that football season just ended. I have a hard time believing, even if the calendar tells me it is true, that over 6 months have passed since the Superbowl. Caveat, of course: I am not the hugest football fan in the world, but I do like it...when it is time for the season.

This should be the height of the baseball season. A time when we are lamenting our team's suckiness (yes, I am looking at you, Oakland A's) or celebrating our team's sudden chance at a pennant. Baseball should be the lead story on SportsCenter. But every year around this time, the same thing happens. Suddenly football becomes the focal point, which makes no sense, because what happens now, save for a few roster moves and perhaps an injury, makes no difference overall. The players aren't really trying out, a la Spring Training (which, come to think of it, I have no idea if this is true or not. Perhaps they are. Still not digging the football this time of year).

To me, football season is when it is cool outside; when I want to curl up in a warm blanket, perhaps next to a warm body, and watch the game, only moving for another beer or bathroom break. It's when I want to slap on the long sleeves and watch the folks at the park play (or try to play myself, which is usually fun but ends in an embarrassing display of ineptitude).

But now, in August, when the weather is finally heating up here in SF, I am watching commercials for "Battle of the Bay," which, if our baseball seasons have been any indication, will be the battle of who sucks less.

Being Barry

I am in the midst of an all-nighter (it is already 1am here in Chicago, and I have to leave for the airport at 4.30am...why sleep?), and in a little lull waiting for some info from my boss (who is also all-nighting it). I have just watched several episodes, it seems, of SportsCenter and Baseball Tonight, both of which we broken into several times to cut over to the SF/LA game and Barry Bonds' at bat.

I was at the Giant's game the other night (yes, I know I am an A's fan...but my friend had good tickets...and I had fun!); it happened to be the night Barry hit is 754th HR. I have to admit, I was swept up by the excitement. I stood up each time he came to bat. I cheered (yes, I KNOW!) when he hit his homerun. I was pumped to think he could tie or break the record while I was there.

A lot of the conversations around me focused on 1. if the pitcher would pitch to Barry or walk him, and 2. how people should treat the breaking of this record. I was, of course, surrounded by Giants fans, so there was some bias, but I bought most of what they were saying.

Should there be an asterisk next to his name? I don't think so. While I don't think what he did was right, I tend to look at it in the context of what was going on at that moment in history. Many players were using steroids (again, not that it makes it ok). There was a loophole in the rules and they found a way to exploit it. I think it is dangerous to start putting the infamous asterisk next to records; it will force the issue that there are caveats to every record. What if Babe Ruth had played against African-American or Hispanic players? What if Hank Aaron would have played at PacBell Park? What if, what if?

The game changes and evolves, sometimes not for the better. That is the fact of many sports, industries, people. It is just the way.

Perhaps if Barry was a friendlier person, more media-savvy, perhaps then he wouldn't be the scapegoat for many people who were doing the same thing. I am not condoning his actions. I am not supporting him. I really just wish that this saga would be over already.

And, I'll give him props where they're due. One of the hardest feats in sports is to hit a baseball. That's just to make contact. So to hit the ball well, to connect that many times, to me, is pretty darn impressive.

Take Me Out to the Ballgame, Eh

On Tuesday night, I got the opportunity to go to a Blue Jays game. I know they aren't the best team in baseball, or super popular around here, but I was pretty excited. One of the things I'd like to do before I die is hit all the baseball parks. I am very, very far off from doing this, but each time I travel, I try to make a dent in the list.

I am lucky enough to have some baseball connections, so we got free tickets with great seats. We arrived at the bottom of the 1st inning...kind of a bummer because I would have liked to see them perform the two national anthems, and the Jays were already down by 3. The game continued much in this same vein, with the Dodgers just pounding in runs almost every inning. Despite the huge stadium (Rogers Centre is really big!), the atmosphere was almost one of a minor league game. There were crazy giveaways every inning, a weird pepper race, and the fans constantly on the big screen (I don't see that happen every inning at most games I go to).

The night was beautiful; although it had been a stormy day, it was warm enough at night for them to leave the dome open. So, one more stadium down!

Save the A's

Thanks to my colleague, Dan, for sharing this most awesome video!

It's Playoff Time

As I've mentioned before, I am a big baseball fan. And come October, baseball should be the dominating topic in any sports conversation (the fact that it's not really burns me...football has JUST STARTED, hockey - apparently - has also just started. This is the PLAYOFFS, peeps. Give baseball its due). It is for me.

This year, I am thrilled that my team has finally broken their streak of losing in the first round of the playoffs. (and, watching the Mets/Dodgers game right now, this guy made a huge error in the top of the 8th, giving the Mets a 4 run lead instead of 3, pretty much making a comeback unlikely) We swept a team not many gave us a chance to beat. We beat the best pitcher in baseball.

[Selfishly, I would have like them to have lost one, because I could actually go to Game 4. I was going to celebrate my birthday, the big 3-0, in a skybox with some friends & family, and maybe get my name in lights. That's not going to happen now. I am pretty disappointed; it was pretty much the only thing I was looking forward to that pertained to my bday. I know, selfish.]

There is an electricity to the playoffs that isn't there during most of the regular season. There is also a real sense that anything can happen. Today it did. The Yankee's, the team with the highest payroll and literally a team of all-stars, were defeated and knocked out of the playoffs by the Tigers, a team who had an awesome season until the very end, but doesn't have any huge superstars. In watching the game today, you could see why this could happen.

The game of baseball requires playing as a team. It isn't just up to the pitcher to get the ball up and away from the hitter, or the hitter to hit a home run each time. It requires that the defense have their head in the games and not make big mistakes. It requires the coach not to put a player who has just started playing a particular position in the game at that position IN THE PLAYOFFS [Joe Torre, I am looking at you]. It requires that your teammates support you even when things are a little tough on the field. Watching the Yankees demeanor and actions in the dugout, this certainly wasn't happening. The guys in the dugout didn't speak to each other; once they got behind you could see the fighting spirit drain out of them. This I don't understand...they are paid millions to play a game every day. We should all be so lucky.

It'll be interesting moving into this next round to see the A's vs. Tigers. These teams are somewhat similar in that there are no real big names (yes, we have Frank Thomas, but he was considered way past his prime when the A's picked him up). They play both play as a team, supporting each other on the field and in the dugout. They are both made up of players with not a ton of experience in the playoffs (there are exceptions, of course, but in general).

I am looking forward to it!

Baseball...I Like It

I like baseball.

Anyone who knows me, knows this. I have never quite figured out why I like it so much-- it is kind of slow, action is sporadic, usually rather long games-- but I do. I understand it better than I do almost any game I have ever played; my first job was keeping score for my brother's Babe Ruth League. Maybe that's why. I spent many a summer up in the score booth, deciding if someone committed an error or if it was a 1B of FC. Getting yelled out by grown men because they didn't agree with my decision. Being lauded by the cuties that benefited from my decision. (disclaimer: my calls were never based on someone I thought was cute, although it is tempting) I associate it with being the decision maker, with human subjectivity, with cute boys and hot summer days.

I also think it provided one common ground with my dad when I was a teen. We didn't get along well at the time, but we could always talk about baseball. It was the one thing my grandpa could watch, complain about, enjoy when he was confined to his house or hospital room. It brings people together-- from the little kid who goes to his or her first game with the harried father buying everything the kid wants, to the adult child and parents who go to just enjoy and drink a beer or two.

Soon after my grandmother passed away, we celebrated by grandpa's birthday in a skybox at the Oakland A's game. It was the first game he had attended since he had a stroke about 7 years prior. It was a coordinated effort-- he couldn't walk up and down all the steps and to and from the car, so we had to get a little assistance-- but it was worth it. We were all together, and he was happy. We sat in the front row of the box, ate popcorn and hot dogs and nachos and whatever other food we wanted, and watched Barry Zito pitch a hell of a game. Unfortunately, he pitched so well, it was the shortest game in Oakland's history (up until then), way under 2 hours. But it was a fun time, and one I like to think my grandpa, and the rest of us, really enjoyed.

I spent this last 4th of July holiday at the ballgame with my dad. We have spent several of these holidays together, bonding over the A's and how they are doing (depending on the season, awesomely well or incredibly sucky). We had a few beers, sat in the sunshine, and enjoyed the game. This year, it went into extra innings and we left at the end of the 9th inning, but the A's ended up winning. Watching it at home, we celebrated. Baseball.

Women in Sports

Today I read an excellent article in the SF Chronicle about the lingering inequality in women's sports. I don't want to sound like a uber-feminist or anything of those sorts, but, as a female athlete, this article spoke to me.

In her article, Gwen Knapp discusses how even in the "same" sports, the rules are different. In hockey, there is no checking allowed, even though the women are in full protective gear. In speed skating, the distances are different. And the list goes on.

In my own experience, I know there are different expectations put on women then on men when playing sports. A few years back, I played soccer for an adult club team. In addition to playing in my own games, I went to quite of few other games, including those of our male practice mates. At their games, it was rare for a fight not to break out, and they swore like it was going out of style. All of this with very few repercussions (perhaps a yellow card for a fight, but never for playing aggressively or swearing).

During this time, we had a game. And at this game, we had a referee. And said referee had rules and expectations of the little ladies he was officiating. There would be no rough play, after all, soccer was not a contact sport! There would be no swearing, women don't swear. And don't even think of running fast, it might destroy your ovaries! (just kidding on the last one) We rolled our eyes, and began to play.

Anyone who has ever played a women's sport knows that women are dirty. Perhaps because it is not expected, we tend to be sneakier than the men. My favorite move was always the hip-to-hip run, and the elbow to the tummy to get ahead. And I was a rather clean player. So to be told to reign it in because it was unhealthily, well, that was like telling us not to even play the game!

Back to the game. It was an intense game, with two teams that were good and probably both slightly hungover, so hoping to get the game over with. Both teams wanted to win. The ball went to one player, who promptly kicked it out of bounds, causing the ball to fall over the edge of the hill. "F*ck Me," she said. The whistle blew, and a yellow card emerged from the ref's pocket. What the!? She wasn't even swearing AT anyone, just herself. We all stared in disbelief, wondering how we suddenly landed back in the early 70's. She had to go out of the game, and we all had to watch our mouths, lest they get washed out with soap.

This would have never happened if we were men.

This is just one instance. I played lacrosse throughout college and the men's and women's game are like two different sports. The only reason the limitations on the women made sense was that we wore no pads. But to imply, in lacrosse, hockey, soccer, anything, that a women is more delicate and thus can't handle being pushed around by another athlete, to me this is ridiculous. You don't reach an elite level of your sport by being careful. And, at least to me, sports are a great building block for life; you don't learn how to push back until you've been pushed around a bit*.

*not advocating violence. In the context of this essay, I am talking about fighting back in sports, but also fighting back, not necessarily in a physical way, to adversity that one may encounter in life.