On being extremely critical of a footballer's manager's critically wrong non-decision today

I mean, what was he thinking? Your star centre fullback comes away from the endline holding his crotch, wincing with each step and looking to the sideline for direction. And this after missing most of the previous game with a serious groin injury; and this with only a couple of minutes remaining in the first half.

The camera shifts to the famous manager in the stands who, while glancing down to the sideline, suddenly brandishes a closed fist, to signal to carry on the same for the rest of the half. What is this? Has Vince Lombardi risen from the dead to revive the play while hurt philosophy?

No retroactive hindsight here. At the time I kept admonishing the TV screen to take out the injured player. You are going to take him out at the half anyway. If you don't take him out right now, the underdog team might very well get an opportunity to score due to the defender's inability to run (or even walk properly). A goal here might result in a disastrous effect on the entire season since the favoured team is only one win ahead of its nearest rival.

Alas, the telly did not heed my advice, and lo and behold, the other team did score during (appropriately named) injury time, while our wounded star basically stood in the box as a spectator.

This report from manutd.com is puzzling: "That goal on half-time was an absolute killer for us,” Sir Alex told MUTV. “I think if Rio had been fit they wouldn't have got it. But that's the breaks in football and you have to accept these things."

Am I missing something here? The manager wants our fans to accept that the other team wouldn't have scored the tying goal if he had had a fit defender playing? That all the manager had to do was to withhold his closed fist salute at the start of injury time, and make the obvious needed change then, rather than at the half? Am I missing something here?

I found some solace later on, in the fact that our team was able to salvage a draw, which would leave them still one point ahead of the pursuer. But I still cannot understand why such a great manager would make such a bonehead non-decision in this no-brainer context.

As a hopelessly hooked fan, I will still be watching and cheering next week. Sigh.

Admiration for America by a young Canadian boy; untitled poem written circa 1966, age eleven

The British were awaiting at Boston
They were going to Concord to seize the ammunition
And Paul Revere, who was a patriot, helped find out that plot
So he saddled his horse and waited many a night
And watched the church tower for a light

And on April 18th, he saw a light, shining bright; it was midnight
Then he spread the news to
The minutemen who
Shouldered a gun
And the Revolutionary War had begun

Now Revere was a soldier all during that game
And his midnight ride had brought him fame
And this is the end of my story
So I hope that you will see
How Revere helped bring victory
And start a new country




PS: For other possibly even better poetry on this subject, you can google Paul Revere's Ride by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Note: Illustration found at www.paulreverehouse.org/ride

The Phantom Physician

My wife and I have been blessed to find a terrific family physician (yes, two married people still make a family!) upon our move to Calgary. We have placed our collective trust in Dr. Alex. He always takes lots of time to listen to our multi-problems and to offer his wise remedies. As a bonus, he also tells good jokes (and laughs heartily himself).

Dr. Alex is only available at the Asian Medical Centre on 16th Avenue on Wednesday afternoons and Saturday mornings. That has worked fine for us until this week, when I needed to see him on a Monday. The good doctor had told us that he has a separate clinic on the southside and helps out with the busy clinic on the TransCanada twice a week.

I figured that I could contact Dr. Alex at his regular clinic to see if I could get in there on short notice. The problem was, I could not locate him or the other clinic. In the various diretories in which I searched, I could not find the clinic he mentioned in the location he mentioned. I could not even find his name in any of the various directories of Calgary physicians.

Stymied, I telephoned the Asian Medical Centre to get his phone number. However, the receptionist told me that they don't have his phone number either. Fortunately, I was granted an appointment with another doctor at the centre, on short notice.

What do we make of this doctor, the phantom whose name, number and clinic location are apparently unascertainable from Sunday to Tuesday, and Thursday and Friday. I can vouch that he does exist, but maybe on his non-Asian Medical Centre days and nights he moonlights as a caped crusader somewhere in the city, standing for truth and justice in the Calgarian way.

All I can say is: I appreciate Dr. Alex, the best kept secret in Calgary.

Gator Aid

It wasn't just the big men who won it. It was also those "little" guys on the perimeter who continually sank three footers following Buckeye rallies in the second half that, effectively, sunk Ohio State in the NCAA Men's Basketball Championship game Monday night.

In last year's final, I was so impressed with Joakim Noah's dominance on the court, smashing the record for blocks and intimidating the Bruins throughout. I was even more impressed with Noah and his teammates for coming back this year to try to win back to back. They did not disappoint.

But this year, though the big men, Noah and Horford, still dominated on defence (and Horford on offence, in leading the team in points and rebounds), it was those deadly accurate outside shooters, Green, Brewer and Humphrey who seemed to really put Thee Ohio State University away, in collectively sinking 10 three pointers and scoring 43 points. It was just beautiful to behold.

Equally beautiful for me is the lasting image of Noah winding his way up through the crowd after the final whistle to embrace his mother. They hugged and hugged and hugged. What a moment.

Thank you, Noah and the rest of the Gators, for such a great season, and for dominating the Final Four. And thank you, little guys, for your superb aid in bringing the championship back to Florida.

What's My Line?

The prompter was sorely needed. However, despite the two lead characters not knowing a large portion of their lines, the small town Saskatchewan dinner theatre on March 9 was a big hit. With the use of various rural regional references in the dialogue, it was indeed a slice of life.

Although I am greatly biased in my assessment, my son-in-law and my daughter were easily the best performers in the drama, or were at least in the top three. My son-in-law was a striking visual presence, with his acquired black tonsorial and fu manchu. His character portrayal was very pleasing, from his jumping up and down tantrum as the spoiled rich kid character, to accidently knocking himself out, to mistakingly poisoning himself. A delightful performance.

My daughter was said to be out of character. She easily grasped the "clueless" nature of her character, much like the lead in the movie of the same name. It was ditz city on stage as she pranced, jumped and squealed, all with loud enthusiasm. She may have made some parents uncomfortable in the community where she is an elementary school teacher. Don't worry folks; she doesn't act that way most of the time.

I must applaud the community for the very satisfying evening of entertainment. The dinner meal was plentiful and scrumptious, and the "sex in a pan" dessert was wonderful. And the drama, despite some missed lines, was extremely funny. It brought back fond memories of my days in a small community where a bunch of us performed Arsenic and Old Lace, almost twenty years ago.

Attending this drama was a nifty experience, and was easily worth the six hour drive from Calgary.

Bye Bye Bowie

While I was growing up, Bowie Kuhn was the Commissioner of Major League Baseball. For most of that time, I highly admired the man, especially when he vetoed the Oakland A's firesale of three of its stars to the Yankees and Red Sox, because it was "not in the best interests of baseball." However, during my early adulthood onset of cynicism, I shared the critics' distaste for Bowie when he seemingly disappeared from the scene during the early '80s player strike.

For me, a more laughable moment in the Bowie culture was his reaction to Jim Bouton's bestseller Ball Four, wherein Bowie insisted that the incident where inebriated major league ballplayers kissed each other "didn't happen." Ah, the omnipresent, omniscient Bowie.

Nonetheless, Bowie was there. With the exception of the aforesaid baseball strike, he was always there for baseball and for this fan. Love him or not love him, Bowie will be missed.

Cassia's Wedding

Wow, what a beautiful day. No, not the weather. It was a chilly, mostly miserable day, the 4th of March. Wedding guests had encountered blizzard conditions and ice-packed roads in traveling to (or attempting to travel to) the Moose Jaw wedding. No, it was the wedding ceremony, reception and dance that were so beautiful and enjoyable. Why so? Because of the beautiful people involved.

I love my favourite single niece (single until after 4 PM on March 4). She is so vibrant, expressive and full of life. I always feel good about myself, and just feel great in general when she is around. I also share a bond with her, both of us having visited poor countries in Africa in 2006.

My new nephew is beautiful also. He has a great sense of humor and is so loving and supportive to his new bride. I enjoyed his public remarks about why my recent multiple rib fractures had prevented me from being the photographer at the ceremony and reception: "Uncle Marvin had something come up. You can check with him later for the details. It may or may not have had something to do with a toboggan."

The ceremony was lovely. The wedding party all glowed. The large group of pre-school age flower children, Cassia's and Jeremy's nieces and nephews, were crowd pleasers, and most of them made it down the aisle without incident. I was day dreaming somewhat during the worship songs when I noticed the bride with arms extended, singing her heart out. The whole ceremony was moving.

I was also moved to tears several times during the toasts at the reception. Both sets of parents joyfully lamented this watershed family occasion of the marriage of their youngest children. Family members and close friends gave tear-jerking tributes to each other. There was so much love in evidence.

I loved the African motif table centre pieces. Carved wooden giraffes, gazelles, elephants and birds. They were all for sale with the proceeds to go to the Ugandan orphanage where both Cassia and Jeremy worked last autumn.

To replace the practice of tinkling expensive glasses, guests were invited to perform their favourite song to encourage the wedding couple to kiss each other. There was rock and roll with You've Lost That Loving Feeling, nostalgia with Side by Side, a barbershop quartet and a modern rendition of We Are The Barn Crew." But, the most memorable for me was the performance of the William Tell Overture on a young man's cheeks (facial). Intriguing.

It was indeed an interesting and beautiful wedding. Cassia and Jeremy put on an enjoyable show, complete with delicious salads and fantastic desserts. But again, the big draw was the people.

I am so happy for Cassia and Jeremy. They will go far.