Sportsbreak

Jesus, what a blender of a half-month it's been. The middle week of March was devoted to a poster for a session at the Society for American Archaeology meetings that took place in Vancouver. I didn't go, but it sounds like my poster had a good time. Thanks to the mapping expertise of the wonderful C here at work and the graphics expertise of the girlfriend and the cultural background and presenting expertise of my co-author, the poster caught the Amerind Foundation's eye enough for them to decide it's a finalist in some public outreach contest they're holding. So the poster may get to do some more traveling, again on its own. If this keeps up much longer it's going to start asking for a beer allowance. And if that happens it's just going to have to go out and get a job.

While the poster was gallivanting around Vancouver, a couple of factions of my family came to town for intensive hiking, birding, and drinking. I survived.

Meanwhile, the world of sports has been churning on. Even though I picked Kansas for the Final Four, along with the rest of the country, I jumped up and down cursing while watching Stephen Curry dribble, diddle, and finally pick up his dribble on Davidson's last possession last night rather than either heaving up a three or finding one of the two guys standing wide open on the flanks. Following that, the Notre Dame women outrebounded Tennessee in the first half and went to the locker room riding a wave of confidence and an accompanying two-point lead, which they promptly converted to bamboozlement and a ten-point loss twenty minutes later.

Opening Day 2008 is being rained out in Chicago as we speak, with a third-inning delay coming on the heels of a start that was already pushed back two hours. Highlights have included the unveiling of an awesome Ernie Banks statue and Fukudome smoking a double over the second baseman's head in his first, and possibly only, at-bat today. The internet radio broadcast is doing a great job of conveying the rain delay atmosphere, with no announcers, but only Gary Pressey's organ playing against a backdrop of crowd chatter. It's 43 degrees and raining, making me not very wistful at all about sitting in my Cubs batting jersey here in 80 degree desert sunshine instead of freezing my ass off in the bleachers while sipping a six dollar Old Style. Still comforting to listen in on the sounds of home.

Soccer? Soccer sucks. Seriously hating on soccer right now, although, were I to be honest, it's more hating on my inability to do the things I used to be able to do. I am not aging well, and am not dealing with that gracefully. Should probably quit playing before I start punching the young speedy players as they blow past me. Speaking of young and speedy, did you see Cristiano Ronaldo's goal against Aston Villa on Saturday? Holy shit. Cheeky? This is the definition of cheeky. GodDAMN but I would like to be able to do that just once.

The rain is lifting! There may still be baseball on the North Side today after all.