Some old Sevs footage. Next up, Board Sports.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Right back where I started...
Medford VFW Hall! Right back where I started...Silent Majority circa 1996.
More to come including more of this show, the Kill Yourself Jam at the 7-11 trails and some Board Sports miniramp footage. I'm glad I had a video camera in 96.
More to come including more of this show, the Kill Yourself Jam at the 7-11 trails and some Board Sports miniramp footage. I'm glad I had a video camera in 96.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
What happened to professional skateboarders?
I will be the first to admit I barely know who Greg Lutzka is, I barely know who any new skaters are. The only new skater who has caught my eye is Chris Haslam, who I immediately fell in love with the first time I saw Cheese & Crackers. Oh, and Ryan Sheckler, because he has an MTV show in which he whines...a lot. Sheckler is bad enough, but this shit is on another level. Ladies and gentlemen, the Greg Lutzka Toyota Matrix Pro-Model....
Now at first I thought this was actually cool. A Prius Pro-Model would have been better, but who would turn down their own pro-model car? Then I started to look at the stupid graphics. Then I googled Greg Lutzka.
First, his "accessory line"...
Then, the man himself...
Is that a fingerboard necklace? Someone spring Gator out of jail so he can put this guy in a board-bag.
I am watching America's Best Dance Crew (because the Sheckler show isn't on) and a group just danced to Head Automatica. Ha.
Speaking of skateboarders with TV shows, Rob & Big was hilarious.
Speaking of skateboarders with TV shows, they should replace the guy in Jail Break with Gator.
Good Livin.
Now at first I thought this was actually cool. A Prius Pro-Model would have been better, but who would turn down their own pro-model car? Then I started to look at the stupid graphics. Then I googled Greg Lutzka.
First, his "accessory line"...
Then, the man himself...
Is that a fingerboard necklace? Someone spring Gator out of jail so he can put this guy in a board-bag.
I am watching America's Best Dance Crew (because the Sheckler show isn't on) and a group just danced to Head Automatica. Ha.
Speaking of skateboarders with TV shows, Rob & Big was hilarious.
Speaking of skateboarders with TV shows, they should replace the guy in Jail Break with Gator.
Good Livin.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
"You suck on Sportscenter!"
Sticking with the ESPN theme, check out my friend Jennifer in the newest episode of Mayne Street. She isn't really acting here, she is that white trash.
The red-headed kid stole the show.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
19 hours, 48 minutes and 17 seconds
I walked into ESPN Zone in Times Square at 10am on New Years Day feeling like I had just been hit by a bus. After making the decision to go for the win at the 2nd annual ESPN Ultimate Couch Potato competition, mainly due to this quote from the great Vince Lombardi, “The quality of a person's life is in direct proportion to their commitment to excellence, regardless of their chosen field of endeavor,” I had decided not to drink on New Years Eve. So much for that idea. My only hope was for the other contestants to be as equally unprepared as I was. That was not the case either.
As soon as I entered ESPN Zone I was introduced to Stan, Keyaire and John. Keyaire had gone to sleep at 7pm on New Years Eve to be well rested for a shot at a trophy that looks like my 4th Grade science experiment. John’s life must have been riding on his success that day, because that dude wasn’t a joke. He made sure he knew every rule, right down to whether he was allowed to use Chapstick and toothpaste. He even showed up in sweat pants to have an edge in comfort, despite the fact that he would be appearing on television. Then there was Stan, the defending champ who lasted over 29 hours the previous year. I was obviously the underdog, with little to no chance of not being the first one eliminated.
The clock hit 11am and our asses hit leather. My biggest savior in those early hours was the local media. My eyes were already beginning to close. Had it not been for the spotlights, flashes, cameras and reporters in my face, I may have fallen asleep within the first hour. My biggest concern was that we were only allowed one 15-minute bathroom break every eight hours. I had no idea if I could even make it that long. I hadn’t practiced during the week like John and Keyaire and I didn’t sit here for 29 hours last year like Stan. I opted to not eat or drink for the first 8 hours. I began to think that not drinking at all might have been a mistake when I saw the champ sipping on water, but I figured I had some ground to make up due to not coming into this thing in the best shape.
It seemed like we didn’t have to worry about Keyaire, who sat down and immediately ordered a three-course meal. John was the early favorite, he had a big group of supporters with him, cheering him on and heckling the rest of us. I starting going back to the original thoughts I had before I made the decision to play for the win. Maybe I should get up and walk away, now, just to make people with a sense of humor laugh and those without one scratch their heads and call me names. After all, I would have just wasted this shot at glory, which should have been theirs if I wasn’t going to take it seriously. Maybe I would start drinking and see what would happen first, a disqualifying trip to the bathroom or a disqualifying drunken antic. I decided to have some fun with the press, as you can see in the NY Daily News. I am sorry to say I never brought my couch and TV out onto my sidewalk to “practice in the elements.” I figured, this poor girl was sent here to write a story about 4 guys sitting in recliners watching football; I might as well help her out a little.
At some point I decided to follow Stan’s lead and sip on some water. Then about 4 hours in he ordered Chicken Tenders…so I ordered Chicken Tenders. This continued the rest of the night. We ate dinner together, we switched from water to Diet Coke together and we sat in the same positions. I wonder if he ever noticed.
Around 3:30pm my friends and family starting filtering in to ESPN Zone. This was a game changer, suddenly John wasn't the crowd favorite any longer. The heckling now turned against him, I had the crowd on my side. With three hours left until the first bathroom break John’s bladder joined in on the heckling. He was on the edge of his seat, ready to give up, the crowd letting him have it. He broke. The favorite was the first one out, lasting just over 5 hours. I had more supporters now after his group of friends let me know they were rooting for me. Then Langston Walker and the Buffalo Bills contingent in attendance let me know they were pulling for me as well. As the Rose Bowl was coming to a close I had a decision to make. Was I going to stay in this thing, possibly still sitting here the next morning, or was I going to give it up now? I won’t lie, I wanted to leave. There were no signs of Keyaire or Stan slowing down, all but 2 of my friends had left (those left were encouraging me to give up, thanks Maura!) and my girlfriend was at home waiting for me. I told our waitress, Kara, that I was about to drop out. She told me she was working a 12 hour shift and that there was no way I was leaving before her. She even offered to provide entertainment, which she did by doing cartwheels as she passed by. Talk about good service. I stayed.
A few hours later during a stretch break I checked my phone. 12 missed calls, 30 texts and a few emails. We had hit TV. Now it felt like I had the whole world behind me. Especially after I read a text that said, “the news anchor is even pulling for you, he just said ‘I’ve got 3 bucks on Schatzel,’ you’ve got to win now!” I looked to my right and saw Keyaire starting to doze off. Frankie was right, I couldn’t give up now.
I figured I did have one advantage. I had done this before under much worse conditions. Living on Manhattan’s Lower East Side for over 2 years, with 160+ bars in walking distance, I had spent plenty of alcohol fueled nights awake until 10am the next morning. But a seriously dehydrated night spent on a ridiculously comfortable recliner with nothing to watch but rehashed sports programming proved to be an entirely different challenge. With that said, I need to thank Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer for their performance in the 2008 Wimbledon Men’s final. All the credit for me lasting almost 20 hours goes to Nadal and Federer. They also get some credit for finally knocking out Keyaire. His eyes had been dropping every 3 or 4 seconds for the last 3 hours, tennis finally knocked him out, but he wouldn’t go easy. He argued and fought, saying his eyes had only been closed for a few seconds. Yelling, demanding he could not be kicked out yet, asking for another chance. I could understand the argument if his eyes were only closed for a few seconds, but I was sitting next to him, he was asleep for at least a few minutes. Now it was down to only two.
It was after 3am when Keyaire got knocked out and I was starting to feel it too. I began pounding Diet Cokes to stay awake, but then Nadal vs. Federer ended. Next up was a Heisman Trophy show. I thought this would easily keep me awake, until I was reminded that Ty Detmer was a Heisman winner. A 30 minute show about Ty Detmer and I was just about done. I told Stan I was thinking of calling it quits. Stan encouraged me not to quit and gave me some advice. He said his bladder could give up on him at anytime and I should hang in there. With four hours until the next bathroom break he also said this, “If you have to go to the bathroom, just pretend to fall asleep first, otherwise the media will be all over you.” Thanks Stan, you are a great champion. I checked out at 19 hours, 48 minutes and 17 seconds. I finally fell asleep just before 7am, or maybe I had to use the bathroom…thanks to Stan you will never know.
As soon as I entered ESPN Zone I was introduced to Stan, Keyaire and John. Keyaire had gone to sleep at 7pm on New Years Eve to be well rested for a shot at a trophy that looks like my 4th Grade science experiment. John’s life must have been riding on his success that day, because that dude wasn’t a joke. He made sure he knew every rule, right down to whether he was allowed to use Chapstick and toothpaste. He even showed up in sweat pants to have an edge in comfort, despite the fact that he would be appearing on television. Then there was Stan, the defending champ who lasted over 29 hours the previous year. I was obviously the underdog, with little to no chance of not being the first one eliminated.
The clock hit 11am and our asses hit leather. My biggest savior in those early hours was the local media. My eyes were already beginning to close. Had it not been for the spotlights, flashes, cameras and reporters in my face, I may have fallen asleep within the first hour. My biggest concern was that we were only allowed one 15-minute bathroom break every eight hours. I had no idea if I could even make it that long. I hadn’t practiced during the week like John and Keyaire and I didn’t sit here for 29 hours last year like Stan. I opted to not eat or drink for the first 8 hours. I began to think that not drinking at all might have been a mistake when I saw the champ sipping on water, but I figured I had some ground to make up due to not coming into this thing in the best shape.
It seemed like we didn’t have to worry about Keyaire, who sat down and immediately ordered a three-course meal. John was the early favorite, he had a big group of supporters with him, cheering him on and heckling the rest of us. I starting going back to the original thoughts I had before I made the decision to play for the win. Maybe I should get up and walk away, now, just to make people with a sense of humor laugh and those without one scratch their heads and call me names. After all, I would have just wasted this shot at glory, which should have been theirs if I wasn’t going to take it seriously. Maybe I would start drinking and see what would happen first, a disqualifying trip to the bathroom or a disqualifying drunken antic. I decided to have some fun with the press, as you can see in the NY Daily News. I am sorry to say I never brought my couch and TV out onto my sidewalk to “practice in the elements.” I figured, this poor girl was sent here to write a story about 4 guys sitting in recliners watching football; I might as well help her out a little.
At some point I decided to follow Stan’s lead and sip on some water. Then about 4 hours in he ordered Chicken Tenders…so I ordered Chicken Tenders. This continued the rest of the night. We ate dinner together, we switched from water to Diet Coke together and we sat in the same positions. I wonder if he ever noticed.
Around 3:30pm my friends and family starting filtering in to ESPN Zone. This was a game changer, suddenly John wasn't the crowd favorite any longer. The heckling now turned against him, I had the crowd on my side. With three hours left until the first bathroom break John’s bladder joined in on the heckling. He was on the edge of his seat, ready to give up, the crowd letting him have it. He broke. The favorite was the first one out, lasting just over 5 hours. I had more supporters now after his group of friends let me know they were rooting for me. Then Langston Walker and the Buffalo Bills contingent in attendance let me know they were pulling for me as well. As the Rose Bowl was coming to a close I had a decision to make. Was I going to stay in this thing, possibly still sitting here the next morning, or was I going to give it up now? I won’t lie, I wanted to leave. There were no signs of Keyaire or Stan slowing down, all but 2 of my friends had left (those left were encouraging me to give up, thanks Maura!) and my girlfriend was at home waiting for me. I told our waitress, Kara, that I was about to drop out. She told me she was working a 12 hour shift and that there was no way I was leaving before her. She even offered to provide entertainment, which she did by doing cartwheels as she passed by. Talk about good service. I stayed.
A few hours later during a stretch break I checked my phone. 12 missed calls, 30 texts and a few emails. We had hit TV. Now it felt like I had the whole world behind me. Especially after I read a text that said, “the news anchor is even pulling for you, he just said ‘I’ve got 3 bucks on Schatzel,’ you’ve got to win now!” I looked to my right and saw Keyaire starting to doze off. Frankie was right, I couldn’t give up now.
I figured I did have one advantage. I had done this before under much worse conditions. Living on Manhattan’s Lower East Side for over 2 years, with 160+ bars in walking distance, I had spent plenty of alcohol fueled nights awake until 10am the next morning. But a seriously dehydrated night spent on a ridiculously comfortable recliner with nothing to watch but rehashed sports programming proved to be an entirely different challenge. With that said, I need to thank Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer for their performance in the 2008 Wimbledon Men’s final. All the credit for me lasting almost 20 hours goes to Nadal and Federer. They also get some credit for finally knocking out Keyaire. His eyes had been dropping every 3 or 4 seconds for the last 3 hours, tennis finally knocked him out, but he wouldn’t go easy. He argued and fought, saying his eyes had only been closed for a few seconds. Yelling, demanding he could not be kicked out yet, asking for another chance. I could understand the argument if his eyes were only closed for a few seconds, but I was sitting next to him, he was asleep for at least a few minutes. Now it was down to only two.
It was after 3am when Keyaire got knocked out and I was starting to feel it too. I began pounding Diet Cokes to stay awake, but then Nadal vs. Federer ended. Next up was a Heisman Trophy show. I thought this would easily keep me awake, until I was reminded that Ty Detmer was a Heisman winner. A 30 minute show about Ty Detmer and I was just about done. I told Stan I was thinking of calling it quits. Stan encouraged me not to quit and gave me some advice. He said his bladder could give up on him at anytime and I should hang in there. With four hours until the next bathroom break he also said this, “If you have to go to the bathroom, just pretend to fall asleep first, otherwise the media will be all over you.” Thanks Stan, you are a great champion. I checked out at 19 hours, 48 minutes and 17 seconds. I finally fell asleep just before 7am, or maybe I had to use the bathroom…thanks to Stan you will never know.
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