My Favorites

In trying to kill time until the BC game on Thursday, and since this blog still has that “new blog” smell, I thought it would be good to list some Born and Bred Ed Tar Heel favorites. Feel free to add your own.

Favorite Tar Heel Basketball Player(s):

I have to go with Numbers 34 here. George Lynch and David Noel.

As much as I love to see guys who fill up the basket or streak down the court, I love these guys because of their leadership and willingness to do everything to help the team, even the stuff that doesn’t get readily noticed. PsychoT will likely surpass Lynch on the career scoring list during our next game, and I sincerely hope we get to hear something from Eric Montross on the THSN broadcast about him.

Favorite Tar Heel Football Player(s):

If you didn’t think I was a sentimentalist already, this will seal it. Continue reading

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The Sound of Drumming Fingers

Drumming Fingers

 6 days until the Heels play BC.  9 days until the Super Bowl. 12 days until National Signing Day.   I think I may become unhinged. 

Not being an MLB fan, the worst part of the sports year for me is that time around the middle of summer after the College World Series has concluded (or the Heels are knocked out) and before the beginning of football practice in August.   As a father of two girls, sports — primarily Carolina athletics — serves as a brief respite of testosterone and television in a world otherwise dominated by female concerns.  In the fall, it’s easy to become accustomed to the rhythm of the press conference, practice report, Saturday game schedule.  Then for an all-too-brief time, football and basketball overlap, and then we settle in to the two game a week schedule of college basketball.

So where’s the consideration for a guy like me when Ol’ Roy puts together a schedule with this GINORMOUS eight day layoff?!  With all the effort I put in to ensure that I convey only positive mojo through the TV or radio (the Bodacious and Brilliant Emily, a.k.a. Mrs. BBE, would readily attest to my superstitious neuroses during game time), you would think that I could get a little consideration.  But NO.

 Guess I just have to find something else to do.  I guess there’s bound to be a State loss on the horizon…. 

I love you, but…

Psycho T

Did you ever have one of those conversations/discussions/lectures with your significant other that begins with them making real serious eye contact and saying something like:  “Sweetheart, you know I love you (pause), but….”  It is then that you are taken on a journey through all the things you do that drive them absolutely nuts until they are on the verge of smothering you with your pillow if you don’t roll over and shut up that dadgum snoring you fat piece of– anyway… you get a little desensitized to them after a while and actually learn to accept the “I love you” preface.  But the first one stings a bit.

 My Dearest Tyler.  I love you, you big galloot.  Before we met, I must admit, I don’t think I really knew what passion was.  Night after night, you find new ways to show me the depth of your passion and intensity…

BUT

You have GOT to learn how to pass to your teammates when you have drawn three defenders to yourself in the lane.  Dadgummit, boy, I know you love you the contact.  I know you love to score.  But Jiminy Christmas, you could be such a bigger threat if you could find your open teammates for layups when the entire defense collapses on you. 

I know, I know…you’re the same guy now that you were two years ago, and it’s probably not fair for me to ask you to change….  I just think we can take this relationship to the next level if you can grow a little, change a little.  Can you meet me half way?  Because if you can, I could see you later this spring picking out rings (or hanging banners or clipping nets).  Think about it, big guy.