In 1974, the Pittsburgh Steelers had the best draft class in history: Four Hall of Famers - Jack Lambert, Lynn Swann, John Stallworth, and Mike Webster. The next best draft in history (the 1969 Steeler draft) only had two.
The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette wrote of the draft:"The Steelers seem to have come out of the first five rounds of the draft appreciably strengthened at wide receiver but nowhere else. They didn’t get a tight end, and the ones remaining are more suspect than prospect. They didn’t get a punter, although none of the nation’s best collegiate punters went in the first five rounds. They didn’t get an offensive tackle that might’ve shored up what could well become a weakness. What they did get was Swann, who seems to be a sure-pop to help; Lambert, who figures to be the No. 5 linebacker if he pans out; and three question marks."
I'm not writing this because I'm thrilled with the draft. Instead, I'm recalling it because I realize the need to temper my comments - that time might make a fool of me, saying that this is a terrible draft class.
I will say this: the Steelers need offensive lineman like the Olsen twins need doughnuts. There were FANTASTIC lineman in the draft, and they didn't get them.
They needed cornerbacks like Eli needs supervision. They got none.
Instead, they followed the lead of 1930's France and put up the Maginot line at running back, wide receiver, and linebacker. Don't worry that the offensive line is as hole-y as Kwame Kilpatrick's alibi. Don't worry that the cornerbacks could make the Naval Academy's offense look like USC.
The Steelers have a long, long history of building through the draft. With the new administration in place, one has to wonder about their ability to see the long-term impact of these players.
I'm cautiously pessimistic.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
First (real) race of the season
Willow Time Trial.
Strong wind, about 55 degrees or so. My legs never felt really bad, but I know I left everything out on the course, because my eyes wouldn't focus for the last few minutes.
Finished fourth, with a 25.5 MPH average. Needed about 27 MPH for the win. Didn't win anything. Time trials are stingy that way.
Strong wind, about 55 degrees or so. My legs never felt really bad, but I know I left everything out on the course, because my eyes wouldn't focus for the last few minutes.
Finished fourth, with a 25.5 MPH average. Needed about 27 MPH for the win. Didn't win anything. Time trials are stingy that way.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Another boring day in paradise...
I had a bunch of mundane things to do today.
That should be a hint. As in, "I'm going to share the painstaking details - emphasis on the pain - with you." I'd suggest going elsewhere on the web. Check out ESPN.com. Or yahoo. Do some original research on Wikipedia.
Your time will be better spent.
So anyway, Friday night was a party hosted by one of our sponsors. A good time was had by all; the bar was open, the catered food tasted great, and there was a multitude of entertainment possibilities.
Do I sound like an important-bike-racer-man yet? Good. Then I won't mention the words 'pizza' and 'bowling'.
Mmmm. Pizza.
Anyway, got home about 12:30 last night, got up at 7:00 or so. Ate my first breakfast, some Muesli, and got to work. I ended up doing laundry, dishes, replacing bearings in my 420 wheels with new ones, replacing bearings in my pedals, putting the old 420 bearings in my 350's, taking a nap, gluing on the Vittoria's to my Zipps...
And, of course, made myself second breakfast, first lunch, and second lunch. I don't remember if I ate dinner or not. I think I'll be OK anyway... but I'm a little hungry now.
That should be a hint. As in, "I'm going to share the painstaking details - emphasis on the pain - with you." I'd suggest going elsewhere on the web. Check out ESPN.com. Or yahoo. Do some original research on Wikipedia.
Your time will be better spent.
So anyway, Friday night was a party hosted by one of our sponsors. A good time was had by all; the bar was open, the catered food tasted great, and there was a multitude of entertainment possibilities.
Do I sound like an important-bike-racer-man yet? Good. Then I won't mention the words 'pizza' and 'bowling'.
Mmmm. Pizza.
Anyway, got home about 12:30 last night, got up at 7:00 or so. Ate my first breakfast, some Muesli, and got to work. I ended up doing laundry, dishes, replacing bearings in my 420 wheels with new ones, replacing bearings in my pedals, putting the old 420 bearings in my 350's, taking a nap, gluing on the Vittoria's to my Zipps...
And, of course, made myself second breakfast, first lunch, and second lunch. I don't remember if I ate dinner or not. I think I'll be OK anyway... but I'm a little hungry now.
Epilogue: UPS
So I had a bunch of comp-time coming, and I needed to take care of some stuff at home anyway, so I took off Friday... and waited for the UPS man to show up.
About 2:00 I heard the doorbell ring. I ran to the door, as I know from experience that I have about five seconds before UPS runs out of patience.
I opened the door. The package was there. No signature was recorded.
I hate UPS.
About 2:00 I heard the doorbell ring. I ran to the door, as I know from experience that I have about five seconds before UPS runs out of patience.
I opened the door. The package was there. No signature was recorded.
I hate UPS.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
United Parcel Service
UPS is the most incompetent company that I have the displeasure to deal with.
The general protocol is as follows:
1. UPS attempts delivery at 1:00 PM in a residential area.
2. UPS leaves note for package. Says to call them.
3. I get pissed because I hate talking on the phone to idiots.
4. I call UPS.
5. Press 0 as many times as possible until I speak to a human.
6. Realize that said human is an idiot.
7. Idio... I mean, employee says they will try to schedule a redelivery that same day; as they recognize the futility of delivering to a residential area in the early afternoon.
8. Hang up the phone, feeling optimistic.
9. Wait 30 minutes.
10. UPS calls me back, saying that they aren't going to try too hard to redeliver. In fact, they aren't going to try at all.
11. I decide that UPS is incompetent, and I do WHAT I PAID THEM TO DO FOR ME - drive to THEM and pick up MY package.
Words cannot express how much I hate UPS.
Since I'm expecting a package, I tried to avoid this calamity. So I called BEFORE they attempted delivery.
'We're sorry. We refuse to work on that now. Please try again after we attempt delivery at 1:00 PM'.
The general protocol is as follows:
1. UPS attempts delivery at 1:00 PM in a residential area.
2. UPS leaves note for package. Says to call them.
3. I get pissed because I hate talking on the phone to idiots.
4. I call UPS.
5. Press 0 as many times as possible until I speak to a human.
6. Realize that said human is an idiot.
7. Idio... I mean, employee says they will try to schedule a redelivery that same day; as they recognize the futility of delivering to a residential area in the early afternoon.
8. Hang up the phone, feeling optimistic.
9. Wait 30 minutes.
10. UPS calls me back, saying that they aren't going to try too hard to redeliver. In fact, they aren't going to try at all.
11. I decide that UPS is incompetent, and I do WHAT I PAID THEM TO DO FOR ME - drive to THEM and pick up MY package.
Words cannot express how much I hate UPS.
Since I'm expecting a package, I tried to avoid this calamity. So I called BEFORE they attempted delivery.
'We're sorry. We refuse to work on that now. Please try again after we attempt delivery at 1:00 PM'.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Random Day in the life
You know, there are many, many subscribers to this blog. I can't quantify exactly how many, but I'm almost certain you couldn't count them on one hand.
Almost.
Two of you - (this quite possibly represents a 'majority' of my readers) have talked to me about my 'cycling' blog.
Cycling?
That really wasn't the intent when I started. But, the majority of my time these days is spent at work... and we're under dodectuple-secret-clearance for all of that information. So I really can't share that top-secret confidential information on my blog; no one would read it here. So what's the point?
Once again, I digress. But the point is - not much, eventful-wise, goes on in my day-to-day life.
And I'm going to prove it, by forcing you, at gunpoint, to read what happened to me this week. You might, very astutely, point out that you aren't "at gunpoint". That's where you're wrong. I'm in your house right now (unless you're at work). In fact, I'm in the closet right beside you with the barrel pointed at you. If you try to open the door, or - even worse - close the web browser, I'll let loose.
You've been warned.
Monday, March 31st.
At work, I've been trying to get a lot of things done. We have about two or three days to complete some tests; and we're struggling to fit everything in. Of course, things are being complicated by a myriad of other problems. Fighting them one at a time...
Finally about 4:30 or so, I leave the Erik, the afternoon-shift tech, with a gameplan, and head out....
...because I had an appointment, you see. My hair was so long, people were confusing me with a hippie (that must be the reason; I completely dismiss the claims of others who say things like 'try some deodorant' or 'you smell really, really bad').
Anyway, realizing that Mondays aren't really days that barbers usually work, and yet also recognizing that Monday evening was really my free evening for the week, I called D-Barber around lunchtime. Sure, he says, I'll be here until 5:15 or so. Odd time, I think, but set off on my way at about 4:45 or so.
I get there, and, as per the norm, there's a sign saying - "At Howell's Bar Next Door - Please come get me". I've been through this saga before; I go in, and I find out why he's over there - it's opening day for the Detroit Tigers, and, in fact, it was the bottom of the 11th with the Tigers down one run.
Anyway, he asks if we can wait until the end of the inning; I figure it's no big deal (it isn't) and watch the end of the game. Suffice it to say the Tigers lost.
And I go get my hair cut. Highlight of the day; exciting, I know.
Almost.
Two of you - (this quite possibly represents a 'majority' of my readers) have talked to me about my 'cycling' blog.
Cycling?
That really wasn't the intent when I started. But, the majority of my time these days is spent at work... and we're under dodectuple-secret-clearance for all of that information. So I really can't share that top-secret confidential information on my blog; no one would read it here. So what's the point?
Once again, I digress. But the point is - not much, eventful-wise, goes on in my day-to-day life.
And I'm going to prove it, by forcing you, at gunpoint, to read what happened to me this week. You might, very astutely, point out that you aren't "at gunpoint". That's where you're wrong. I'm in your house right now (unless you're at work). In fact, I'm in the closet right beside you with the barrel pointed at you. If you try to open the door, or - even worse - close the web browser, I'll let loose.
You've been warned.
Monday, March 31st.
At work, I've been trying to get a lot of things done. We have about two or three days to complete some tests; and we're struggling to fit everything in. Of course, things are being complicated by a myriad of other problems. Fighting them one at a time...
Finally about 4:30 or so, I leave the Erik, the afternoon-shift tech, with a gameplan, and head out....
...because I had an appointment, you see. My hair was so long, people were confusing me with a hippie (that must be the reason; I completely dismiss the claims of others who say things like 'try some deodorant' or 'you smell really, really bad').
Anyway, realizing that Mondays aren't really days that barbers usually work, and yet also recognizing that Monday evening was really my free evening for the week, I called D-Barber around lunchtime. Sure, he says, I'll be here until 5:15 or so. Odd time, I think, but set off on my way at about 4:45 or so.
I get there, and, as per the norm, there's a sign saying - "At Howell's Bar Next Door - Please come get me". I've been through this saga before; I go in, and I find out why he's over there - it's opening day for the Detroit Tigers, and, in fact, it was the bottom of the 11th with the Tigers down one run.
Anyway, he asks if we can wait until the end of the inning; I figure it's no big deal (it isn't) and watch the end of the game. Suffice it to say the Tigers lost.
And I go get my hair cut. Highlight of the day; exciting, I know.
Korea
So, as many of you know, my Father is stationed in Korea for a year; he's about halfway through now. My Mother has been there for the past week and a half, visiting.
If you click on the picture, you can see a larger version.
A park. I believe this is where they bury the Kimchi.
A Folk Village?
Mom and Dad. Smiles indicate that no Kimchi had been consumed yet that day.
Ceremonial Garb. No Kimchi relation.
I believe this is the DMZ.
Mom and Dad indicate that the DMZ was very odd... North Korean guards are 8 meters (about 25 feet, or across the room) from you, staring back.
Mom at a folk village.
Seoul Tower. It's like the Space Needle, but at the restaurant at the top, they serve Kimchi.
Museum.
Palace. It's like the Forbidden City, except they serve Kimchi at the top.
Ceremonial Kimchi Urn.
A temple in Korea...
A statue. Korea is blessedly pigeon free, apparently.
My Parents interacting with the Indigineous Peoples. Apparently they didn't make any smart-ass Kimchi remarks.
If you click on the picture, you can see a larger version.
A park. I believe this is where they bury the Kimchi.
A Folk Village?
Mom and Dad. Smiles indicate that no Kimchi had been consumed yet that day.
Ceremonial Garb. No Kimchi relation.
I believe this is the DMZ.Mom and Dad indicate that the DMZ was very odd... North Korean guards are 8 meters (about 25 feet, or across the room) from you, staring back.
Mom at a folk village.
Seoul Tower. It's like the Space Needle, but at the restaurant at the top, they serve Kimchi.
Museum.
Palace. It's like the Forbidden City, except they serve Kimchi at the top.
Ceremonial Kimchi Urn.
A temple in Korea...
A statue. Korea is blessedly pigeon free, apparently.
My Parents interacting with the Indigineous Peoples. Apparently they didn't make any smart-ass Kimchi remarks.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Virgle.
Mission to Mars questionnaire.
Congratulations -- you are ideally suited to be a Virgle Pioneer; so ideally so, in fact, that one wonders why you aren't already living on a remote South Pacific island, serving as a biosphere test subject, washing dishes at a North Pole research station during the depths of winter or writing a highly intelligent, articulate political blog. At any rate, we want you for one of our upcoming Virgle launches. You'll love it -- the pay is great, the view from the spaceport should be spectacular, and we're told that algae and spirulina actually start to taste good after the hundredth consecutive day. Anyway, if you want to give Virgle a try, you can submit your video here.
Congratulations -- you are ideally suited to be a Virgle Pioneer; so ideally so, in fact, that one wonders why you aren't already living on a remote South Pacific island, serving as a biosphere test subject, washing dishes at a North Pole research station during the depths of winter or writing a highly intelligent, articulate political blog. At any rate, we want you for one of our upcoming Virgle launches. You'll love it -- the pay is great, the view from the spaceport should be spectacular, and we're told that algae and spirulina actually start to taste good after the hundredth consecutive day. Anyway, if you want to give Virgle a try, you can submit your video here.
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