One Word

A few weeks ago, I accompanied two roommates into center city for a night of bar hopping . For the most part, we were there because my roommate John wanted to drink the previous week into non-existence, so Jason and I (like any good wingmen) came along for the ride. I was already pretty tired from running around that day. After the first bar turned out to be an absolute bust, we decided to drudge forward, although I'm fairly certain that we all knew the night was heading for rock bottom, even if we didn't want to admit it out loud.

As fate would have it, our night was going to get a whole lot better. On our way out of the bar we ran into the girlfriend of our roommate Phil. Her and two friends were on their way to another nearby bar and invited us along, which seemed a helluva lot better that wandering around aimlessly. We'd go on to spend the next five hours between two different bars with Meghann and seven (no lie, freakin' seven) of her jazz dancer friends from the U of Arts, quite the turnaround from how we anticipated the night to go. It was a perfect example of the Law of Progression, and for three schmucks like us, it was one of the better outings of the year.

I wanted to mention this for three reasons:

1. The month of February was an absolute dud. Like there was any doubt that this would happen, we're talking about February for Christ's sake. The month started with the sloppiest finish to a football season I've ever seen, the weather was abysmal, our household turned into a full-fledged episode of the Twilight Zone (I'll address this later in the post). Can we all sign a petition to remove this month from the calender year?

2. Dancers are a lot of fun on a Saturday night, and anyone who says otherwise shouldn't be trusted. Now this was a fact that initially surprised me. In our house, some of us had been led to believe that girls who dance long routines every day of their lives in hopes of a shot at Broadway were all a little bit nuts. At the time, it seemed like a plausible conclusion to draw.

But think about it for a second: these girls spend every day in a competitive academic environment where, like any student, they have to deal with sadistic professors and cram sessions; their bodies are about as close to physically perfect as you can get, but without losing a shred of their feminine sexuality, something you can't say for other women athletes (sorry, at the risk of angry responses from people I know, it had to be said); they are constantly trying to network and impress in order to get a foot into any door available because the supply of dancers is always higher than the demand; the jazz/Broadway dancer field is presumably 80% female and 19.9% gay men, with only a minuscule straight male population worthy of dating. Add it all up, and you get tight-bodied extroverts with a twist of social awkwardness who are so worked up on a daily basis that having fun on the weekends is the only thing they have to look forward to. So guys, if the opportunity presents itself, don't let it pass by. Dancers are quality folk.

3. I discovered that one word can be used to describe the motives of my actions. Here me out on this. When we got to the second bar of the night, I was sitting near the middle of out table, with Meghann and another friend between me and my boys. My stomach and bladder were pretty full from Moriarty's, so it wasn't for awhile till I was thirsty enough for my 83rd Coke of the night. Something sparked Meghann's curiosity to the point that she felt compelled to begin a familiar dialogue:
"So you don't drink at all?"
"Nope."
"That's cool."
"I guess."
"Is there a reason you don't drink?"
"There's a couple. . ."

**Can I just say that I can't stand the "oh, that's cool" blanket statement I always get from you drinkers. I feel like someone who just got the worst haircut in history, yet my friends keep trying to convince me that it's really not that bad. Let's cut the bullshit people: I'm not doing it to be cool, and you really don't think it is anyway. There is no need for hollow filler dialogue we both know to be untrue. I appreciate the thought, but please stop. I beg you.**

Anyway, it got my brain thinking as to what motivates me to not drink. Then I started to wonder, "what motivates me to do any of the things I do?" Human beings are complex creatures, and while there are many facets to someones character, I think that at the most basic level, anyone can be driven by one singular force. So I thought about what I do, how I feel about things, and eventually was able to come up with the main driving force behind who I am.

Pride. Whether you think pride is a good or bad trait to have, for better or for worse, pride is definitely the overwhelming influence in my actions. Why don't I drink? Why do I always tell the truth? Why am I so competitive and hate even just the thought of losing? Why can't I ever call out of work for the sake of just taking a day off? Why is it that I'm more loyal to my friends and family than most people I know? After stripping down the reasons and motives to their most basic philosophical roots, pride is the only motivation that fits the bill.

I want to be proud of what I do, how I act, who I am, what my legacy is. I'm afraid of being remembered as disingenuous or as something I'm not. I don't want to regret my actions later, or win a game because the other guy didn't notice a foul I committed, or get a grade without deserving it. I certainly don't want to be the unreliable brother or the troublesome son, and I don't want my friends to question for a second if I'd drive 100 miles to help them out of a bind. Maybe that makes a lot of sense to some, or none at all to others, but pride is my motivation and the definition of my goals. Without a doubt, "pride" describes what it is to be me.

Some other stray thoughts from the filter:

- I'm really enjoying Flyers hockey right now, and I don't mean the "we're the worst team in the league... no, seriously" part. Let's be honest here: they're dead last in points; their goaltending was suspect; you could never count on Forsberg to show up for a game because his ankle problems were literally making him fall down for no reason; our Coach got fired a few weeks into the season, followed shortly after by our GM resigning, all while Ed Snider, who was already a hair away from searching for the nearest ledge after dealing with the Sixers for the last six years, was one bad loss away from going postal.

Currently, they are still the bottom feeders of the league, but it's different now. Paul "Homer" Holmgren, the new GM, has been a man on a mission to rebuild this franchise as quickly and efficiently as possible. The Forsberg trade was brilliant, as evident by the fact that this kid Upshall we got in return has been a stud second-liner. We've also acquired three top defensive prospects by trading away veteran players (which the Flyers notoriously accumulate every year in free agency under the old system), with the bonus effect of freeing up tons of cap space. Just last night, our new goalie from Buffalo practically stood on his head and gave the Flyers a chance to win in overtime.... which they did on a last-second Upshall goal. All the while, the Flyers have been fighting and clawing in every game for the last three weeks, playing their brains out for the fans and for themselves, despite the fact they were eliminated from the playoffs months ago.

Going into next year, we're looking at a completely revamped defensive unit, an upgrade in the two way goalie competition, a healthy Gagne and Knuble, and about $20 million to go shopping with for top-line free agents (the cap for the NHL is only like $43 mil btw). Watch these guys finish out this season and look for them to make some noise next year.

- As I referenced earlier, our household has been affectionately dubbed "The Twilight Zone" in recent weeks. The reason is that John and Kaitlin, two roommates in the house who have been dating for a few years and formed the backbone of the roommate social structure, broke up right at the end of January. She broke up with him, for reasons I'm not going to get into (it's a headache to explain anyway), but needless to say, the group dynamic was thrown off severely when it happened. The good thing is that they both looked at the situation, realized they had already committed to re-signing the lease on the house, knew they were going to have to live together until school was over, and decided to try and make it work as friends.

The bad thing is that you can't really go from a long-term relationship to being best buds without an adjustment period. Quite literally, they went from yelling and screaming at eachother to sitting together watching Jeopardy in just 24 hours time. Personally, I think they could have done well by learning to tolerate eachothers existence for two weeks before getting back on the friendship horse, but what do I know. Meanwhile, everyone else is in a constant state of confusion because one minute they'll be complaining about eachother, then the next they'll go food shopping together, then they'll bitch about something to one of us, then they'll hang out for a few hours watching movies together. . . . you get the idea. Are they back together? Are they about to kill eachother? Who knows. Nothing makes sense in the Twilight Zone.

- Is it wrong that I like Kobe Bryant now? I've been thinking about this for a few weeks, but there is no doubt that I'm a full-fledged Kobe fan. When the Sixers lost to the Lakers back in 2001, Kobe was near the top of my shit list. Here he was, playing with the most dominant player in the league, coached by one of the winningest coaches in NBA history, walking a little too tall for just a 22 year old ballplayer. He was cocky. He was arrogant. He was on top of the world, helping cement his place in Lakers dynasty history, and I hated him for it.

Then it all changed. They stopped winning championships. The "Alpha Dog" fighting between he and Shaq escalated until neither one could even tolerate being in the same room together. He was caught cheating on his wife and called a rapist. Big Daddy switched teams, the Zen master quit and wrote a book, and all the while, it seemed like his legacy was going down the tubes. For a time I relished every bad headline, until the unthinkable happened: I started to sympathize with him. I mean, was it his fault that two of the most dominant players in a 30 team league were on the same team and that both deserved a spotlight that could only shine on one? Was it his fault that when the infighting got bad enough, the franchise went with the younger player to build for the future, making him the scapegoat for Shaq's departure? Was it his fault that after the Lakers completed their three-peat, other teams began building rosters with the sole purpose to beat L.A. in the playoffs? Sure he was young and cocky, but he was damn good, and he paid for his success by living under a microscope.

All that aside, let's look at it from a basketball view. The man has an incredibe profile: after all the championships, he's STILL one of the hungriest players in the league, right up there with Iverson; he hits shots, grabs rebounds in traffic, and is an acrobatic artist when driving in the lane or along the baseline; when asked to lead a new group of young talent, he didn't shy away but worked on teaching and facilitating their growth; he's one of a handful of players in the league that people would pay top dollar to come see in person. Plus, he's also one of the few Super-duper stars to take pride in being a smothering perimeter defender, and God knows I appreciate any player in any sport who plays defense. I guess the bitterness of 2001 has just rubbed off for me, so until further notice, I'm pro-Kobe all the way.

That's it for now. With any luck, the next time I write, I'll be the proud owner of a pool table (no lie, pictures will be shown). Prepare yourselves.