Seriously, I'm REALLY Bored

Another video link. It's the lazy blogger's way.

Mark sent me to the Bills website to watch a video of Paul Posluszny doing an interview while wearing a backpack - I don't know, I think that's cute - but instead I found this totally adorable interview of Poz being interviewed by a nine-year-old fan. It really must be watched. (If the link doesn't take you to the right video just click on the video labeled "Junior Bills Backer Interviews Posluszny.") As someone who works with kids I think it's pretty obvious when someone is comfortable with children or not and Poz is a charmer here. Man.

(I'm in no way suggesting that there's something wrong with people who aren't comfortable with kids. I get that that's not everyone's thing and that's probably particularly true of young athletes who don't have kids of their own and might not have been around them a lot. My Safety is Harvard featured this hilarious picture of Derek Roy holding a baby a while back and it suggests that Derek has not held very many babies in his young life. Even the kid is like, "Who is this yahoo?")

So yeah... Poz is cool.

Heather and Mark Do Buffalo: Bills Training Camp

We're going to ignore the fact that training camp is not actually in Buffalo and focus on the fact that the Bills are. Except for now. And those games in Toronto. Otherwise, they're totally in Buffalo.

I'll be honest, I'm not a huge football fan. I mostly understand it but I just don't find it terribly interesting. I don't get people who complain about baseball being slow but spend an entire day watching football. I'm pretty sure if you take away the pregame, half-time, and postgame shows, the commercial breaks, the huddling, and the running on and off the fields, you're left with 12 minutes of actual play per game. I grew up in Alabama where college football is the equivalent of life itself and I managed to escape without really falling in love with the sport (although I highly recommend attending a big SEC game if you ever have the chance because the atmosphere really is amazing and you can't help but get sucked into the sheer joy and insanity of it all) so I figured that was pretty much all she wrote for football and me.

But I kind of got into the Bills last season which is crazy considering that they weren't really that good. I thought there was something really likable about them and so I'm going to try and make an effort to follow them this season. I might even play fantasy football which will be a first. I've played baseball and hockey but that's it. Oh, and I got a Bills jersey for Christmas. So you know, there are seeds of interest there.

Okay, so I wrote all of the above before we actually left for training camp. Sounds pretty happy and optimistic, right? Well... little did I know.

I should start at the beginning. Mark and I decided to junk some of our current furniture rather than bother moving it to the house and the junkers came this morning to cart it all away. This furniture has been in the same place for four or five years so moving it kicked up all kinds of dust which had my sinuses going completely haywire after what was already a tough week in that regard. My head was throbbing, my eyes were watering, and I could feel everything creeping toward my left ear. Those of you following 100 Things will recall that I am friggin' miserable when my ears hurt.

When the very nice junk guys left, we filled up our gas tank, and headed out. We got all the way to the general Rochester area with no problems at all.

And then we got lost.

And then we got lost in another direction.

And then we got lost in yet another direction.

We saw all of Pittsford and the surrounding towns at least three times and while it's a cute little place, it's just not really that interesting. We finally pulled over so Mark could ask for directions and take over the wheel. I promptly curled into a ball of misery.

Kill me now.

It wasn't pretty. Mark was crabby that somewhere the afternoon practice had already started and I was crabby because I hated everything about life at that moment. The place where we stopped had no idea where we needed to go but they were kind enough to pull up Mapquest directions for us.

We finally found the off-location parking and we were then bussed to St. John Fisher's College. I ride a bus to another building for our specials classes (gym, art etc.) every day so this isn't an unusual thing for me but it was pretty amusing seeing a bunch of grown men in Bills jerseys piled on a school bus. In retrospect. At the time it was just hot and miserable.

Thank God in heaven, we finally, finally made it. Bills training camp, 2008!

I thought this day would never come.

I have to admit, things didn't get much better from there. Mark was kind of bummed that we'd already missed half of practice. It was around 3 when we finally got there - we left home at 11:30 - and my mood was just shot. My lack of football knowledge didn't help. I knew who was on defense and who was on offense but I don't know enough about the various positions to know who was doing what well and who was screwing up. I also only know five guys by number - Paul Posluszny, Marshawn Lynch, Donte Whitner, Trent Edwards and JP Lossman - so I was definitely lacking the player recognition that I have with the Sabres. Had I been in a better spot I might have been a little more willing to learn something, but this was not the good Heather. Mark mentioned stopping and eating before we left and while I didn't verbally respond, I think it was clear I really just wanted to go home. So I was really grumpy that he wanted to prolong the trip, he was really grumpy that I was so grumpy, and that made me even grumpier because jeez, can't a girl just be grumpy once in a while?

Some football players playing football.

Some football players watching football.

And then the batteries in my camera died and the last piece of my soul died with them.

Only one man had the power to save the day now. That man? Paul Posluszny. Let me explain: I love everything about Paul Posluszny. He seems so sweet and genuine and I just want to hug him. And that's not a euphemism. While he's definitely a cutie pie, I'm not really attracted to him in that way. I've joked with Mark that Poz is my back-up husband in case anything ever happens to him but I really just want to hug him and hang out with him. I already loved the guy and then I read this little piece on him. He's the only player who didn't bring a TV for his dorm room and he also doesn't have a laptop. He's passing his free time by reading. Guns, Germs, and Steel. That's like... a real book. I totally love this kid.

Poz! Save me, please!

After practice a bunch of players lined the field and started signing autographs. Now, I'm not a huge autograph person. I've never, ever stood in a crowd of people for an athlete's autograph before, not even when I was a kid. (I was pretty shy about that kind of thing when I was a kid though so that was probably part of it.) But Mark had suggested bringing a sharpie along and even though I really just wanted to go home I thought, what the heck, why not? This day can't get any worse.


I'm so, so glad I stuck around. Even if I hadn't gotten anything signed, watching Poz in that situation was pretty wonderful. I would never ever criticize a guy just cranking out autographs without paying attention to what he's doing because he's still going out of his way to do something for fans but when a guy takes those few extra seconds to look up and make eye contact with the person he's taking a photo or poster or jersey from and responds to whatever comment they make to him and then looks up again when he hands their stuff back it's really awesome. It's such a small thing but he was out there for a really long time - he was still signing when we left - and he made a lot of people really happy. He went out of his way to fuss over the little guy beside me who was probably five or six. Totally adorable. And hey, Poz even had enough power to make my camera batteries rejuvenate themselves long enough for me to take a few more pictures.

Behold the power of Poz!

Here, for all posterity, is the conversation Paul and I shared today as he signed my jersey:

Heather B: Thanks a lot, Paul.
Paul: No problem.
Heather B: It's really good to see you back on the field.
Paul: Hey, thanks. It's definitely good to be out there again.

I think we really connected.

Poz gets a major thumbs-up for taking the time to write legibly as well. His signature actually looks like his name. I have to give him that over even Hank. A lot of the stuff I've seen with Hank's autograph is basically "HT 10" which is totally lame.

Paul Posluszny, number 51 in your program, number one in my heart.

So thank you, Paul Posluszny. You totally salvaged my day.

And Now For Something Completely Different...

After I posted this morning, I decided I wasn't going to think about the Sabres the rest of the day. They're bugging me and I don't like it. Instead I thought about the Bills. They're kind of a charming little team, aren't they? Isn't it nice to have a team that makes up for a lack of talent by working really, really hard every week? I like that. It's fun.

This has been posted on various Buffalo websites before, but I'm throwing it up here because whenever I need to lighten the mood, I cue this baby up:



Marshawn came through my line late one night at the grocery store and he was exactly like he is on TV - funny, friendly, and just a tad loopy. He is truly, to quote Robert Royal, "a fresh of breath air."

I've also been ogling this tackle by Paul Posluszny (the replay from behind him is the best angle, I think):



That is, fierce, y'all. I think that deserves a "Rrrrawwwr!" for sure.

Odds and Ends

What the title says...

- It bothers me that more of the Sabres don't have special reasons for wearing the number they do. Honestly, "It's the number the equipment guy gave me"? What's that about? If this were Timbits I could understand making due with what you're given but to me one of the best things about being a professional would be having some choice in what number I wear. So many things and people you could pay tribute to, little inside things you could do. I'm always let down when I hear there's no meaning behind somebody's number. I also feel very strongly that every interview should include the question, "Why do you wear number X?" All this time I've assumed Ryan Miller wears 30 because of Marty Brodeur but for all I know it could've been his great-uncle's number. Bucky, make yourself useful and write a column listing every Sabre, his jersey number, and his reason for wearing it.

(For the record, in all my years of travel fast-pitch softball I wore 18 in honor of Andy Van Slyke, my childhood hero and still one of my favorite people in the world.)

- As I mentioned earlier, Mark and I went to the game on Saturday. When they started playing Thank God I'm a Country Boy on the P.A. I said to Mark, "Ooh, maybe this is a Nolan Pratt selection!" He said, "No, they play this song all the time." "They do?" "Yeah, and we have this conversation every time. The only thing that changes is the player's name." After I thought about it I realized he might be right. I guess I just really, really want someone to like John Denver.

- I haven't watched a ton of football this season - I worked at the grocery store most Sundays and I lost a touch of my fervor when Paul Posluszny got hurt - but holy crap, I don't think I can take another second of Patriots talk. I don't know how you people who watch football all the time handle this. Granted, the game on right now actually involves the Patriots but seriously, can someone take care of this? As Mark said a few minutes ago, "I don't think I ever cheered this hard for Willis even when he was in Buffalo." Sidenote: It bothers me that "Poz" is spelled with a "z" when there's no "z" in the first part of Posluszny. I don't know if I've ever mentioned this before, but I was also really disappointed when I realized it was "Poz" and not "Paws" which is how I'd always heard it in my head. Now I have no real reason to throw up my hands and yell, "Rrrrawr!" after a big tackle. Not that that will stop me, of course.

- Two games for Scott Hartnell is ridiculous, especially considering his, "I don't care if I get suspended, I'd hit him the same way again" comments. How difficult is it to understand that sometimes finishing your check isn't a good idea? I love that Colin Campbell's reasoning was more or less, "Well, he did hit him in the head, but really he could've hit him so much harder!" I said before that the league isn't going to start taking hits like this serious until someone is crippled or dead, but I don't know, I'm beginning to think not even that will do the trick. And how sad is that in the couple of days it took me to get back to this story, another Flyer laid another dangerous hit on somebody's head? Glad to see the powers that be have moved up to three games. That'll learn 'em for sure! Danny Briere, I hope you're watching your back because it's just a matter of time before some team decides they've had enough. (And watch, that guy will get a double digit suspension.)

- I'm mad at Heroes right now. You hurt me, Heroes! You hurt me bad!

- Thanks to the beauty of the interwebs, I'm currently listening to Christmas in the Stars: Star Wars Christmas Album. Folks, your life is not complete if you've never rocked out to What Can You Get a Wookiee for Christmas (When He Already Owns a Comb?)

Why I Love Hockey: The Canadian Version

Why I Love Hockey #24 - O, Canada
Fans from other cities occasionally ask me why we sing the Canadian National anthem before every game even though Buffalo is in the U.S. The truth is, I have no idea. Maybe because we're so close to the border that we're practically in Canada. Maybe because we know hockey is, at its heart, Canadian. Maybe because we know a lot of our favorite players are Canadian. I don't know. All I know is, I'm really glad we do it. First of all, it's fun to sing. I'm an alto - I can't sing our National Anthem. I try but I'm sure the people around me aren't very pleased at the excruciating sounds they're being subjected to. But O, Canada? Totally in my wheel house. I can sing that sucker all day long and sound halfway decent doing so. I also think it's just a lovely melody. I often find myself humming or singing it under my breath. A couple of years ago I was doing this on vacation and one of my brothers expressed surprise that one, I was singing O, Canada and two, I knew all the words. But that's what hockey has done to me. And while I can't explain why we do it, I do love that Buffalo is, as far as I know, the only American city where both anthems are sung before every game regardless of the opponent. Just one more thing that makes us special.

On a slightly different note, I've never really gotten into the Bills or football in general. I watch a few games a year, I want the team to do well, but I don't go out of my way for them. However... I might be a little bit in love with Paul Posluszny. I grew up in Alabama so I do know college football fairly well - enough to know that linebackers who come out of Penn State are usually pretty darn good. He's smart (15th in his class in high school, Academic All-American in college), he goes to church every week, he seems like a nice guy, and he probably won't dance around the field after a sack when the Bills are down 31-17. And while I'm not sure I'd say he's handsome, he's kind of cute though he could smile more. I really think it's the Time Warner commercial with him and all the kids trying to pronounce his name that pushed me over the edge though. It's adorable. Also, I could be in that commercial. Every once in a while I say to Mark, "Okay, say Poz's last name again." When I'm looking at it, it's no problem. When I'm not looking at it I seem to want to put a "ski" at the end.

So yeah. I'm adopting Paul for the season. We'll see if it sticks.