tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35078236841010135132024-02-19T18:18:06.242-05:00MusingsRobbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.comBlogger90125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-4665075638290201582014-10-07T11:25:00.000-04:002014-10-07T11:27:57.336-04:00500 Word Wednesday StoriesI've written a few very short stories (sometimes referred to as "flash fiction" in the writer's world... I think) on a different website, and I'm reposting them in this post in their entirety for continuity's sake. Hope you enjoy!<br />
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"Honeysuckers"<br />
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<div class="graf--p" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin-bottom: 22.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Erica Jordan didn’t
feel quite right. But that was OK, because as she decided between coconut
cranberry and chocolate almond granola in Trader Joe’s, she<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><em>looked</em><span class="apple-converted-space"><i> </i></span>right. And that was more
important, in the scheme of things.</span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin-bottom: 22.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small; letter-spacing: 0.1pt; line-height: 22.5pt;">She was unspeakably attractive. Not pretty, like Carrie
Underwood, nor beautiful, like Julia Roberts, but attractive, in a way that
drew the eyes and envy of everyone, no matter gender or orientation. She was
only 5'6, but was blessed (somehow) with both long legs and a long, lean
stomach, both of which were on display as she perused the crowded market on
this Friday afternoon.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="7a50" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;">Her chestnut hair was tied in a ponytail and pulled
through the back of a weathered Red Sox hat, but strands danced down her neck
in the slow-moving air. Her white halter top and pink shorts popped against the
display’s darkness, and men who had caught a glimpse of her when passing the
aisle now doubled back as if they had forgotten something</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;">—</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;">making
the second pass at a much slower pace.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="4804" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">At the other end of the aisle, ostensibly comparing
breakfast cereals, stood April.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="bb18" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">This wasn’t Erica’s usual look, but Trader Joe’s wasn’t
her usual location. This had been last minute— the Shaw’s downtown had doubled
security. The book might have been a bit much, she thought, but Rachel Carson’s
text on the overuse of pesticides in the ‘50s screamed “Look, I’m
earthy-crunchy!” in a way that her trusty Coach handbag did not.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="f5a5" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt; text-indent: -5.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">“You catch more flies with
honey,” she’d said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="b7b3" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;">Silent Spring’s</span></em><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span></i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;">green cover poked above the
rim of the black, cross-stitched purse, grinning down the aisle like a
moss-covered tombstone. Erica shook her head and moved down the aisle a few
feet, arching her back as a tall, slim, sandy-haired man sidled up to her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="c7df" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt; text-indent: -5.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">“You know, if we rid the
world of pesticides, maybe they won’t even be able to grow grass at Fenway.
Might beat watching Buchholz pitch, eh?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="ce77" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Jackpot. Kind of a long pickup line, but she’d heard
worse. She dropped her hand and pulled down the hem of her shorts as April
watched.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="df2e" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">April left the aisle.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="a87b" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">__<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="165f" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;">Fifteen minutes later, Erica and Boris (originally from
Ukraine) strolled into the Boylston sun. She played her part well, and found
that her emotions started to cleave to her appearance</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;">—</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;">her
heart beat loudly in her ears, her pupils started to dilate, and her skin
pebbled with goosebumps despite the August heat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="eaf7" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">She looked like a woman yearning to give herself to this
man.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="33bf" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">__<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="aa35" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">April followed. She watched from two blocks away as her
partner beckoned the man to follow her down the agreed-upon street in a way
that would be described by Shakespeare as coquettish.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="3f83" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;">April never had doubts about whether she or Erica should
be doing something more worthwhile with their Boston University degrees</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;">—</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;">this
was fun, dangerous, and lucrative.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="d4b8" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The gun lay silent and comforting against her thigh as she
followed them into the alley.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="f970" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">__<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="f815" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Fifteen minutes after that, the colors of the day had
changed. The yellow sun had dipped below the jagged line of buildings in the
west, and red light bathed the city. The two women, all long hair and suntanned
skin, weaved through the post-work drinks crowds in the Financial District.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="accd" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">There had been easier targets, April reflected, but not
many. Perhaps it was because European men enjoyed so much emotional power over
the women in their countries.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="7574" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Or perhaps it was the guns.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="2ef3" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">They stepped into the lobby of an office building on Milk
Street and entered the white-tiled bathroom.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="4a66" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">__<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="8444" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 22.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">If you were a female leaving work a bit late on this
Friday, and worked in this building, and had stopped in your lobby’s bathroom
to freshen up, you might not have noticed anything. The handicap stall sat
around the corner, hidden from the rest of the bathroom.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="f029" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">However, you may have heard
hushed whispers over the tinkling music. And if you had taken a peek, you might
have seen a $100 bill or two drift down, past the black Coach handbag and onto
the floor, before being snatched greedily up again.</span></span></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="f029" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
_______________________________________________________________________________</div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="f029" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="f029" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
"Oceanview Elementary"</div>
<div class="graf--p" data-scroll="native" name="f029" style="background: white; line-height: 22.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: x-small; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px;">One by one, the children filed out for recess. The school was a brick elephant, slain, dead on its side in the dust of the hot dry playground, and the children the ants that marched dutifully into and out of its decaying corpse each day.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="375d" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="375d" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Hunter watched them from the fence by the hill. He only knew a few names — this had been the other class. There was Jessica, one of the smallest girls in the whole first grade, but the loudest by far. She had two blonde pigtails that looked like they wanted to jump off her head whenever she ran. Today she was running almost as soon as she left the school, breaking the line and running right at Hunter, her head twisted almost all the way around to yell back at the other kids.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="c0cd" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="c0cd" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>The fence was only a foot taller than Hunter. He could reach up and touch the top. He thought about how it probably should have been higher. It was easy to climb. And that’s what it looked like Jessica wanted to do.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--startsWithDoubleQuote" name="5520" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px; text-indent: -0.43em;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="5520" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>“I’m gonna find Hunter and I’ll be a heeero!” she yelled as she ran across the scorched grass of the soccer field. The kids in line all stopped to watch, transfixed. The recess monitors abandoned their posts and raced to intercept Jessica before she reached the fence.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="c17c" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="c17c" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Jessica bore down on Hunter’s location with a wild light in her eyes.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="56e2" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="56e2" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Hunter thought about how quickly kids get over things. It had only been a month.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="b15e" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="b15e" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>He turned around and looked down the sheer rock face to the ocean. It was high tide, and the waves smashed the wall angrily, like caged tigers bent on freedom.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="5ed7" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="5ed7" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Before the recess monitors could catch her, Jessica reached the fence two feet to Hunter’s left. She grabbed the iron bar that ran across the top of the chain link and, with a young gymnast’s strength, pulled herself up and stood on the top rail. She twined her fingers into the mesh cargo net that served as the barrier between wayward soccer balls and the Pacific Ocean, and would have climbed but for Ms. Nancy. Huffing and puffing in her sensible pencil skirt, she finally caught Jessica and pulled her off the net.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="a20c" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="a20c" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Hunter suspected, by the tone of Ms. Nancy’s voice, that Jessica wouldn’t be allowed out to recess for quite a long time.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="eccf" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="eccf" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>A shame, he thought as he felt himself drift slowly backwards and into the warm embrace of the Pacific Ocean.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--last" name="97fe" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="97fe" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a></span></span>She was the only kid still looking for him.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--last" name="97fe" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">____________________________________________________________________________</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--last" name="97fe" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">"Semifinal, 90'+2"</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="d36a" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">In terms of cliches, the “life flashing before your eyes” one is pretty well-known. I don’t know if that actually happens, and I’m pretty sure I won’t be around to find out.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="09fb" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="09fb" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>There’s another common cliche that pundits and analysts like to deploy when athletes are performing particularly well. Actually, it’s more like one big umbrella cliche that encompasses a lot of smaller, sport-specific platitudes.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="c396" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="c396" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>The umbrella cliche? That an athlete is “in the zone.”</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="3829" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="3829" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>When a basketball player is in the zone, the hoop looks as big as a trash can. When a baseball player is in the zone, that 90-mile-per-hour fastball looks like a beach ball lobbed from a toddler. Hockey players in the zone have been said to see plays before they happen; to know where a teammate will be without even looking.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="dd12" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="dd12" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Again, I’m not sure if all those are true. The closest I’ve gotten to being “in the zone” in any other sport was once when I made two consecutive hole-in-ones in mini golf when I was 12. The cup still looked like a cup to me.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="d17a" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="d17a" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>But I will say that there’s a curious feeling creeping up my spine right now.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="72dd" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="72dd" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>It’s always been fascinating to me how fast the human brain can think. And, more importantly, what the body can do by instinct while the brain is miles away.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="0b25" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="0b25" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>The ball doesn’t look larger, per se, but it does seem to be falling slower than it normally would, drifting down from over my left shoulder to my right foot, a revolving pearl falling out of the ink black sky. Some players have complained about the lights, something silly about the angle of the halogens and how certain crosses get lost in the glare.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="9c0c" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="9c0c" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>This one seems fine.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="77a7" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="77a7" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>So, yeah, my life isn’t flashing before my eyes. But, somehow, I do have time to rifle through the thousands of snapshot memories that got me here: my first goal, my high school all-star game, my acceptance to college on a full soccer scholarship, the day I got called up to the national team.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="d2c9" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="d2c9" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>The keeper’s coming out: he’s in no-man’s land. That was a sick ball by Johnson. I always knew he could have been a midfielder. Hope I’m onside. Gotta finish anyway.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--last" name="be84" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="be84" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a></span></span>Some people say that athletes are just so laser-focused on their task that they can’t concentrate on anything else during the game. That may be true of some people, but my mind’s always been a little weird. As my right foot connects with the ball and sends it up again, looping over the helpless fingertips of the Dutch keeper, one thought rings incessantly, like a bell at the base of my skull: this is the most important goal in United States soccer history.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--last" name="be84" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">____________________________________________________________________________</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--last" name="be84" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">"Making It"</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--startsWithDoubleQuote" name="a0be" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px; text-indent: -0.43em;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">“The Commissioner looks like a cancer-ravaged turtle with alopecia.”</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="b115" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="b115" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>I’m about to hit “Send” on Twitter when my phone is rudely snatched from my hand. Strange. I usually don’t get stuff snatched. I’m the one doing the snatching. It’s kind of my job. Steals are kind of important when you’re vying to be the top point guard in the country. Leave it to guys like LeBron and Kevin to fill it up, I’ll do the rest.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="d61b" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="d61b" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Except rebound. Fuck that — I’m 6'2 on a good day.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="2c28" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="2c28" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>But still, that was a good tweet. I turn around and find Mom looking ahead with a cool, glassy stare at the stage. I can see the red and white spotlights mirrored in her eyes, my phone clutched menacingly in her gnarled, oaken fingers.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="0489" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="0489" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Without moving her eyes, face, or (seemingly) lips, she says, “If you tweet anything derogatory about that skinny little man so help me God I will beat you silly.”</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="7bd8" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="7bd8" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>I’ve always found it funny that Mom could adapt her threat volumes to the environment. This was a church threat. Very hushed, very menacing, very low likelihood of it being actually carried out. That’s in contrast to the home threat, where she explained in great detail what my (and my older brother’s) bottoms would feel like after taking the mixing spoon to them.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="bfc1" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="bfc1" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Those were real threats. We tested her once — just to see. And also, the squirt gun in the house game was way too fun to stop.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="b234" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="b234" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>We were sore for a week. Showers were difficult. Sleeping was worse. Going to the bathroom was no longer a sit-down activity.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="272b" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="272b" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>But this threat, here in the Barclays Center in Brooklyn, New York, just minutes before the first pick of the 2016 NBA Draft, wasn’t happening.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="f5fb" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="f5fb" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Damn, man. That tweet was good.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="dc05" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="dc05" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Shit. It’s starting. Who’d they just call? Oh, ok. Someone up on the left. Jones? Yeah, he’s a good player. He’ll fit in there too — they need rebounding bad.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="fa41" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="fa41" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>I turn around to see if I can get my phone back, but Mom’s put it in her bag. She turns her eyes to me and they crinkle around the edges — she never smiles with her mouth. But sometimes you can catch one in her eyes.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--startsWithDoubleQuote" name="2811" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px; text-indent: -0.43em;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="2811" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>“…BA Draft, the Denver Nuggets select, Tarran McIlroy, point guard, Iowa State.”</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="2b39" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="2b39" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>OH fuck. That’s me. That’s definitely my name — it’s the one teachers and my mom and aunt have been yelling since I was old enough to run around the hou-</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--startsWithDoubleQuote" name="96f0" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px; text-indent: -0.43em;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="96f0" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>“TARRAN! STAND UP BOY!”</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="cdfb" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="cdfb" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>That’s Mom, pulling me up and out into the aisle. It acts like a cold bucket of ice water straight to my veins and now I’m in my element. Swagging for the cameras, red-on-yellow suit game on point. I’m about to meet that alopecia dude.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--last" name="1a92" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="1a92" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a></span></span>2nd ain’t quite first, but it beats third.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--last" name="1a92" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">____________________________________________________________________________</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--last" name="1a92" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">"Dad Sneezes"</span></div>
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<section name="a78b" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: freight-text-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; line-height: 30px; position: relative;"><div class="section-content">
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<div class="graf--p" name="80d1" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Dad’s bodily noises were legendary.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="8171" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="8171" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>His burps were beer-bottomed belches, bubbling up from some underground cavern where drops of Heineken fell from french-fry stalactites and landed wetly in pools of ketchup and cheeseburger.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="a498" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="a498" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>His farts were ten times as rare, twenty times funnier, and one hundred times more likely to send us running for the matchbook. Legend had it that one particular emission had put the dog into a shallow coma for several minutes.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="a9af" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="a9af" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Of course, the dog rarely moved from the rug in front of the fireplace, so you couldn’t take that one as fact.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="0233" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="0233" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Last, but far from least, were Dad’s sneezes. Now, he was a polite guy, so it was rare for him to let loose with a belch if company was around, and there was only one recorded instance of him cutting a fart in the presence of someone other than his family (though it had been Mom’s cousin, a sort of adopted sibling of Dad’s, which I don’t think counts).</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="29a4" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="29a4" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>But for some reason, sneezes were deemed OK. And sneeze he did.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="fc60" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="fc60" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>A lot.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="4bfb" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="4bfb" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Dad always had allergies, and hated taking pills (he had nearly choked to death at a company picnic years before, and his boss had had to give him the Heimlich to dislodge the chicken bone).</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="ad79" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="ad79" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>So, once every few hours, a small nuclear explosion would occur somewhere near the house. He was the stay-at-home variety of Dad: a novelist between trips to the hardware store, the marina, and the golf course.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="5f08" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="5f08" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>(A successful novelist).</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--last" name="6a66" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="6a66" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>But those sneezes. The only comparison was a thunderclap. There was no defined “A-choo” noise, or anything resembling it. There was also no intention to stifle or cover it up. It was as if he wished to launch his nose from his face. You could be having dinner, watching sports, or sipping whiskey by the fire, idly chatting about one thing or another, when Dad would uncork an earth-shattering “AAAH!” with no warning. Then he’d return to the conversation, as if he hadn’t just ruptured everyone’s ear drums and heart valves.</span></div>
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<div class="graf--p graf--first" name="e7e9" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="e7e9" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>He looks peaceful, which was almost never the case in life. He was either writing with a pained ferocity, following his Minnesota teams with a feverish intent, or measuring, cutting, and building with a manic precision. Dad did everything big, fast, loud, and (usually) well.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="7210" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="7210" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>The organs toll their last, and people begin to stir and drift away. Mom sits motionless to my left, brown hair hanging perfectly curled just below her shoulders.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="8eb7" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="8eb7" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Every time Dad would wake the dog from a sound sleep and scatter the neighborhood birds with his jet-plane sneezes, Mom would shout “JESUS, MARK!” in an exasperated voice. But I always suspected she kind of liked it. He was a comedy writer, and these periodic blasts would shake people from whatever reverie they might have been experiencing.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--last" name="74c0" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="74c0" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a></span></span>He always said a good joke shook people up.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--last" name="74c0" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">__________________________________________________________________________________"USA 2022"</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="f75e" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Jessica Valentine had just broken her toe while on her way to the most important lunch of her life. There was no point pretending otherwise. It had happened only moments ago — a powerwalking judo kick delivered to the cinderblock strewn carelessly across the sidewalk — and already her left big toe was darkening to purple and throbbing with a low fury every time her heart pumped blood through it.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="0ce0" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="0ce0" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>But Jessica was not a woman who took her problems lying down. She had not scored a Friday afternoon table at Gennaro’s by being meek or unresourceful. Gennaro’s had a certain aura about it, a mood, one might say if one were being pretentious. It wasn’t the fanciest joint in the city (that dubious honor would go to <em class="markup--em markup--p-em">Mon Coeur, </em>the French <em class="markup--em markup--p-em">bistro</em> that insisted all its waiters produce French passports), and it didn’t boast the most expensive food (Clark’s sold a $250 Kobe strip steak). What it did have was a good mozzerella fritta, a <em class="markup--em markup--p-em">great </em>shrimp and garlic pasta dish, and all the exclusivity of a five-star restaurant without the prices. Or the fawning waiters who re-filled a water glass when it was half empty and swept in with the entree just as you picked up the final steamed mussel.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="a9d0" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="a9d0" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>The latter was more important. Discretion was the name of the game.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="1b4a" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="1b4a" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Well, the name of the game was actually soccer. But that was semantics.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="3b5d" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="3b5d" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>She couldn’t walk. That was another reason she knew her toe was broken. But that turned out not to matter. Because she was only a half a block away from Gennaro’s, and the short, balding man stepping out of the black SUV about 200 feet in front of Jessica was the man she had been waiting for.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--startsWithDoubleQuote" name="ca93" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px; text-indent: -0.43em;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="ca93" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>“Steve!”</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="f59f" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="f59f" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>She yelled the name that they had agreed upon, and the pudgy, suited man turned towards her.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--startsWithDoubleQuote" name="aa1b" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px; text-indent: -0.43em;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="aa1b" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>“I can’t.. Just.. come here!”</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="35b7" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="35b7" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Not her best opening line. Ostensibly, she had the upper hand in this deal. It would be hard for him to find another billionaire with a criminal enterprise approaching Valentine’s, not to mention one with the kind of soccer clout that her father possessed. Still, not a strong start.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="4ac5" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="4ac5" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>As “Steve” moved towards her, Jessica Valentine, daughter of New York Red Bulls majority owner Mark Valentine, leaned casually against the brick facade and tucked her left foot behind her right. The effect slimmed her already slender frame, accentuating the subtle taper of her legs as they descended from her dark blue skirt.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="069f" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="069f" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Sepp Blatter smiled, opening his arms as he waddled towards the younger woman, looking at her as a golfer views a particularly challenging but beautiful tee shot.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="b018" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="b018" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a><em class="markup--em markup--p-em">Anything for the bid. </em>Jessica’s father’s mantra ran through her head as she explained her issue and accepted the shoulder of the president of FIFA, the governing body of world football, making sure to allow his pruned hand a brush of her breast on its way past.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--last" name="62f0" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="62f0" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a></span></span><em class="markup--em markup--p-em">Anything for the bid.</em></span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--last" name="62f0" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em class="markup--em markup--p-em">__________________________________________________________________________________</em></span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--last" name="62f0" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">"Ratty Cardboard"</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="feb4" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Ratty Cardboard stole my spot.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="676f" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="676f" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>There’s a lot of folks out in the morning, ‘specially when the weather’s nice, so I keep track’a who goes where. You want somewhere with no competition and lotsa slow-movin’ traffic. But if you really wanna clean up, you gotta find the sweet spot. That place after the coffee’s kicked in but before the morning generous-feelin’ wears off.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="10f1" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="10f1" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>I found that spot. It took me a few weeks — I move around the country a lot and just got in from Hoboken. But I found it. It’s about fifty feet back from the red light at the corner of Chestnut and Bellington. You don’t wanna be closer — the front’s pissed they missed the light. Most mornings you’ll have 15, 20 cars backed up here, so 50 feet is a good distance. They’ve got their windows rolled up, but if you have a good sign and look disease-free, you can do alright.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="7097" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="7097" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Not that many of us have diseases, I mean. Well, I don’t know, actually, I barely know any of these people since I just got in, like I said. But I’ve never met an AIDS victim or anything. Least I don’t think so.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="c2bd" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="c2bd" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Dammit. Rambling again. These fuckin’ Percocets leave me on top of a warm pink cloud mountain for a solid four hours, but they get me ramblin’. Like I said, Ratty Cardboard got my spot. Haven’t gotten his name yet, he’s usually eight or ten blocks back towards the highway, workin’ the news stations out that way. But today he’s doing his usual hitch-strut right on the median there where I make my livin’.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="c083" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="c083" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Here’s hopin’ they see right through it. It’s like those girls in the shop windows with the jeans that some kid in China had to sew together then rip apart. That sign’s not his umbrella/pillow like mine. He’s probably got a nice little couch in the back’a some crackhouse down by the waterfront: free blow (and blowjobs).</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="6608" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="6608" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Meanwhile I’ve been sleeping in a tipped-over dumpster behind the middle school for the past month. It’s actually not bad, but I think the janitor knows I use it.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="cf53" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="cf53" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>But back to the issue at hand. Mister scruff-beard, winter jacket in June, scarf around the neck, fake army sob story, Ratty-ass Cardboard took my fuckin’ spot.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="f745" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="f745" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>He reads the news at least. Know how I know? Cuz that sign he’s got, the one with the carefully torn edges and the on-purpose coffee stain? Says he lost his squad and gained some chest shrapnel from an Afghan ambush on December 5th, 2011.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="de41" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="de41" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>And that happened. He just wasn’t there.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p" name="5554" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="5554" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a>Know how I know? Same reason I make more money in the summer when I can wear shorts. I lost my squad and my left leg that day.</span></div>
<div class="graf--p graf--last" name="1039" style="letter-spacing: 0.159999996423721px; margin-bottom: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="1039" style="background: transparent; color: inherit;"></a></span></span>Ratty Cardboard was nowhere in sight.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</section></div>
Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-4963660537600144482014-09-15T23:14:00.001-04:002016-08-17T11:40:23.707-04:00Course Review - Newton Commonwealth Golf Course<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>This is my second golf course review. The last one was about Green Harbor, and that's <a href="http://robbievogel.blogspot.com/2013/10/course-review-green-harbor-golf-club.html" target="_blank">here</a>. Check it out. </i></div>
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Every time you play Newton Commonwealth Golf Course, which sits (mostly) on the side of a hill in the aptly named Chestnut Hill neighborhood of Newton, you will hit at least five shots that you've never had to attempt before. This course is tight, tree-filled, crooked, and hilly in every possible way - sidehill, uphill, downhill, cross-hill, and several other compound -hill adjectives that you'd have to see to believe. You'd better know your game well before setting foot on this course, as virtually every calculation from the 150 sticks has you thinking things like <i>uphill one club </i>and <i>ball's above my feet </i>and <i>watch out for the protective netting to the right. </i>In terms of gadgets, leave the rangefinder at home and dust off the carpenter's level and gyroscope.<br />
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Newton Comm (as it's affectionately known) is one of the many Boston-area courses designed by Donald Ross. The Scotsman left his mark all around the Boston area, lending his expertise to more than 40 courses in Massachusetts after getting his start in the American game at Oakley Country Club in Watertown. I can only imagine that Ross had a ball designing this little number.<br />
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<b>The grounds</b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the driveway</td></tr>
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I'm partial to a golf course driveway that gives you a taste of what's to come, and Newton Comm has one of the best driveways around. After turning in at the nondescript oval sign, your car's passenger-side windows fill with green as far as the eye can see - the whole course stretches out below, the fairways of the 14th, 18th, 1st, 2nd, 8th, 5th, and 6th stacking up across the hill like green cordwood. The 14th is my favorite hole on the course, and the entrance gives a grand view of the small, three-tiered green and the willow trees one has to negotiate on the tee shot.<br />
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The parking lot feels a bit like a batting cage, what with the protective netting strung up fifty feet high to keep errant drives from the 13th from necessitating a call to Giant Glass (1-800-54-GIANT), and the clubhouse is unremarkable - squat and brown, seeming to sit low on its haunches and serve its purpose: to get you out onto this wonky course as quickly as possible.<br />
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<b>Front nine</b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 8th fairway from the tee</td></tr>
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Quick story before discussing the course. Newton Comm is about a 5 minute walk from BC, and the school had an absolutely <i>sweet </i>deal where you could pay $130 in September and play unlimited golf for the rest of the school year. Fortunately for my GPA, I only found out about this miracle during my senior year. Needless to say, I probably played 100 rounds that year, so I consider myself well-versed on the ins and outs of this track.<br />
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OK, on to the holes. I mentioned that this course is wacky, but you wouldn't get that sense from the first hole. It's a straightforward 275-yard par four (get used to that distance). The second is pretty interesting - a par-5 that manages, despite this cramped layout, to nearly always necessitate three shots to reach the green. Your tee shot on this slight dogleg left is blind, down into a valley that marks the bottom of the huge hill that dominates most of the course away to the left. The 8th hole shown above is just above the 2nd and going the opposite direction, so tee shots wide left on both holes will find the adjacent fairway. A beautiful little brook burbles through the landing area of the 2nd, so longer hitters should keep the driver in the bag off the tee. This will set you up about 250 yards from the flag, so a long iron and a wedge will land you atop the hill and onto the green.<br />
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The third and fourth are both par-3s, part of a front nine sporting four of the short little buggers. All four manage to be testing in different ways.<br />
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The third runs up the hill, about 190 yards from the back tees, which actually share a tee box with the eighth. Turn 90 degrees to your right from that photo above, and you'll see this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLixvdL60wYWrywc1VvcAkpEq-xUncUvaMmjE9BbAPv_AnrDK86BVj9Prg7ctYeFyph_sezelKumUXzcyXR55jHymzKyilbbMxbRdvJkTJrARo30j_6F02NnKWsdsxgkvVHxoPrbnlie4/s1600/3fd.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLixvdL60wYWrywc1VvcAkpEq-xUncUvaMmjE9BbAPv_AnrDK86BVj9Prg7ctYeFyph_sezelKumUXzcyXR55jHymzKyilbbMxbRdvJkTJrARo30j_6F02NnKWsdsxgkvVHxoPrbnlie4/s1600/3fd.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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As you can tell, it's a two-tiered green. Of all the rounds I've ever played there, this was the one time that I've seen the pin on the bottom tier. Every other time it's up top, protected by that bunker on the right. Not an easy hole. </div>
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Four is a downhill par-3 where you can go right and bounce it off the slope down onto the green, but you absolutely must not go left or long. </div>
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The fifth and sixth parallel each other along the top of the hill. The fifth is par 5 that twists from left to right, and any solid drive will leave you with less than 170 yards into the green. Sounds easy, until you realize that the ball will be about 6 inches above your feet, and the green is small, elevated, and three-tiered, with supremely steep runoffs short, left, and long, not to mention virtually no room to miss right due to the 6th tee (and its accompanying protective netting). Birdie isn't unusual here, but the hero shot often leads to disaster. The folks at <a href="http://nolayingup.com/" target="_blank">No Laying Up</a> wouldn't approve of my saying this, but there's no shame in laying up here. </div>
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Six is the second in a collection of six driveable par-4s on the course, and it's one of the holes that bears the strongest stamp of its designer. Sitting at the top of the hill, hard against a fence and some houses, this hole is a slight dogleg right. If you've got a low stinger in your arsenal, now is the time to play it, as I'm sure Ross imagined players would be skimming their drives over the humps and bumps of the fairway and letting the natural left-to-right slope of the fairway funnel them down to the front of the green. And as for the green, well, Ross is known for his turtlebacks, but this one's more like a camel. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sixth green from left of the fairway</td></tr>
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You can see some of the drama of the slopes here, but this photo should really do it justice - I'm standing at the back of the green, and Garrett's feet are about at my head level. That lump between him and the pin is also part of the green, and acts as a kind of wall that you have to chip up and over if you're unlucky enough to miss right.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTWAzPZP2tvE6H4TVQNrmsuRDgVpnZlIL6xXU16EbNJT2xVNuvyxXrnr9G1Is-e8M39nPGaAZhPsxpSSSDd_Z1SdTDLonuJB_scmjBYlEy339pbrsxdAJa-2SOJVxuq5GEQ0wrFjE0SVo/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTWAzPZP2tvE6H4TVQNrmsuRDgVpnZlIL6xXU16EbNJT2xVNuvyxXrnr9G1Is-e8M39nPGaAZhPsxpSSSDd_Z1SdTDLonuJB_scmjBYlEy339pbrsxdAJa-2SOJVxuq5GEQ0wrFjE0SVo/s1600/photo+4.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Seven is a supremely downhill par-3, knocking about 2 clubs off your distance as you fly one into a bowl-shaped green. Eight is the hole at the top of this section - a sidehill par-5 which is also reachable in two, with a caveat.<br />
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One of the hallmarks of a Ross course is that it seems to be drawn naturally from the land, rather than shaped and sculpted by the hands of men, and both the fifth and eighth at Newton Comm are great examples of this. They're both reachable par-5s, but the greens are small and guarded by the natural gradation of the land, with steep banks to the right and dramatic fallaways left and back.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The eighth green, looking back towards the fairway.</td></tr>
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Nine is another downhill par-3, this one over 200 yards long to a receptive green. A line of bunkers breaks up the slope to the green, but you can still run a long iron down the slope and up onto the putting surface - another trademark Ross touch. I love this shot from the 9th fairway because the houses rising up the hill behind the green remind me of San Francisco. Of course, I've never been there, but that's what I feel like it looks like.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisSyi4Qu1kXIIXbTmnpieLQA3nhKG7V4y3IFafjLpBnY3VLX54wugTsF_19d8J5zOY09Skycozd5vSJ8OCDSJYkQM7VqaStK6L0OByN98UpsOPjIIsWTJ5U-pNHfoRXSYrf4XmMmVrsN4/s1600/photo+2+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisSyi4Qu1kXIIXbTmnpieLQA3nhKG7V4y3IFafjLpBnY3VLX54wugTsF_19d8J5zOY09Skycozd5vSJ8OCDSJYkQM7VqaStK6L0OByN98UpsOPjIIsWTJ5U-pNHfoRXSYrf4XmMmVrsN4/s1600/photo+2+(1).JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.7272720336914px;">View from the 9th tee.</td></tr>
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<b>Back Nine</b><br />
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I realize I'm getting long-winded here, and it's just because I'm so familiar with this course and I love each of its little quirks. Fortunately for your eyes and my word count, the back nine is less wonky than the front.<br />
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Ten and eleven are both uphill, driveable par-4s, with ten ending in a two-tiered green guarded by two bunkers in front and a steep drop to the left.<br />
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When I say 11 is uphill, I mean it. Here's the view from 100 yards out in the middle of the fairway:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJNZcK-gkTLgG1X3DsP8FIaxpq9Dl1BmlYAyYgKPdYnts4vu6rdSRJuM1qpqp7uhgXW74XRXLYK_Imgfap-ydpVDzMJ_ohyy0-yaOMZ2So9nY-3FE1i0z-RfFiLk6mQVaDI8Zh5jr3uI0/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJNZcK-gkTLgG1X3DsP8FIaxpq9Dl1BmlYAyYgKPdYnts4vu6rdSRJuM1qpqp7uhgXW74XRXLYK_Imgfap-ydpVDzMJ_ohyy0-yaOMZ2So9nY-3FE1i0z-RfFiLk6mQVaDI8Zh5jr3uI0/s1600/photo+4.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That red thing in the middle is the flag.</td></tr>
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And believe it or not, that photo doesn't do it justice.<br />
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Twelve is a nondescript short par-3, except you really can't miss anywhere but short. A sandy bunker, a tennis court, and a small mountainside greet you from left to right around the back of this small green. </div>
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Thirteen is where the course picks up steam again. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwg2rbAgeRWr48nZY2uhJaIv9OxTEqFCkUWHZUCFynjknlO8Nxva8Rj_oCjL0kmWZzdRZ2sLmnG_lJyJpbW3A3KRMP4jWgjw8PytrPwMPmQvrZXuyrH2UTtg-RWXQS8HI7VdD1cv8I34s/s1600/photo+5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwg2rbAgeRWr48nZY2uhJaIv9OxTEqFCkUWHZUCFynjknlO8Nxva8Rj_oCjL0kmWZzdRZ2sLmnG_lJyJpbW3A3KRMP4jWgjw8PytrPwMPmQvrZXuyrH2UTtg-RWXQS8HI7VdD1cv8I34s/s1600/photo+5.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the 13th tee.</td></tr>
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After that cartpath, things go downhill. Fast. The hole is only 268 from the back, but a small sign proclaims that you're absolutely not allowed to try to hit the green - mainly because the driveway and clubhouse sit hard against the green. You've got to bop some sort of mid-iron down into the fairway and let it bounce its merry way along, hopefully coming to rest on a flat area. Because if not, you've got a tricky 100-yard approach on a severe downslope over a small pond. No running the ball up to the green here.<br />
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Fourteen is my favorite hole on the course - a severe dogleg left where you hit off an artificial mat (quirk alert!), through a stand of willow trees, over a pond, and onto a soft fairway, setting you up about 70 yards from a slightly elevated, postage stamp-sized green. The pond runs along the left side of the fairway and ducks in to nearly abut the green's left side, so it's a deceptively tricky approach. The green's got two distinct tiers, and a third one at the back left, where the pin was placed on this day:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWm9cPuHVQS7tQNZJimJxjnKNuh7eC0Z5pVNboWDq1cDsCDDgqykmOYCEU5x7Bfp2k_SL4ZNWXgGStnnMiVQhvtKkxMopKrMY4zahpSSFkDRqBRsM0UWY1bAPeu5ltk-O1JivDaYo8Pi8/s1600/photo+2+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWm9cPuHVQS7tQNZJimJxjnKNuh7eC0Z5pVNboWDq1cDsCDDgqykmOYCEU5x7Bfp2k_SL4ZNWXgGStnnMiVQhvtKkxMopKrMY4zahpSSFkDRqBRsM0UWY1bAPeu5ltk-O1JivDaYo8Pi8/s1600/photo+2+(2).JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Fifteen is another reachable par-5, but one on which you'll need to hit an up-sloping fairway to have a good chance at birdie. This was my second shot, which landed right of the hole and trickled down this slope (sadly not far enough - although I did get up and down for a bird).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm499QwHsFbXLY9RDaK3cz7YKKSzlkrUXQifXwE1kDlXjzBwIZap9KGvfj29jPtDM0K6skctHD-l-ztedA6FgyVRX1U3Nx0CMXFtJsSz5MDlwJqH-UgczpaCykPRi5W324fDfMLo4xLoc/s1600/photo+3+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm499QwHsFbXLY9RDaK3cz7YKKSzlkrUXQifXwE1kDlXjzBwIZap9KGvfj29jPtDM0K6skctHD-l-ztedA6FgyVRX1U3Nx0CMXFtJsSz5MDlwJqH-UgczpaCykPRi5W324fDfMLo4xLoc/s1600/photo+3+(1).JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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The par-3 sixteenth is unremarkable, save for another wildly two-tiered green. Are you beginning to see the pattern here? You've either got a hard hole or a hard green, but seldom (3rd and 5th excluded) both. </div>
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Seventeen is another gem - a downhill par-4 where your drive needs to be as far left as possible without ending up underneath the large tree about 270 yards out. Seriously - don't miss right on the drive here. You'll find a stand of trees and the absolute best you can hope for is a par. A small pond guards the narrow green, which slopes from back to front. </div>
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The closing hole has been dramatically improved in the last few years. There used to be a monolith of a dead tree that cut off the most aggressive line one could take from the tee, but they wisely felled the beast. Now, it's a nearly reachable par-4, the 378 yardage being measured through the center of the fairway. Here's a peek at the tee shot:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3BWLJoT7gal2svHd9A3tbxoY7DJSsPMDStYXBUe-Z1iqgwAUlF3K1s2lAGLMQc7U-QzrRKvyJYP5wody-rIwqdx6Jqm_-3FpZ0SJuNUwklC-gAmRvLS8IRnSF_24EZV5-7WUx3ldt1g/s1600/photo+4+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3BWLJoT7gal2svHd9A3tbxoY7DJSsPMDStYXBUe-Z1iqgwAUlF3K1s2lAGLMQc7U-QzrRKvyJYP5wody-rIwqdx6Jqm_-3FpZ0SJuNUwklC-gAmRvLS8IRnSF_24EZV5-7WUx3ldt1g/s1600/photo+4+(1).JPG" width="298" /></a></div>
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The green sits just to the right of that very far bunker beyond the player, and if you and your driver have been on good terms for the round, you can try to cut the whole fairway off and go for gold. Of course, that puts the newly installed line of hillocks and bunkers that the subject of this photo is playing out of directly into play. But hey, it's the last hole of the day, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sz0VFa_4JwM" target="_blank">can't hold anything back now</a>.</div>
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<b>The atmosphere</b></div>
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It's everything you'd want in a muni - clean, friendly, honest (like the guy who flat-out refused to allow me to pay for the 18-hole rate at 4:45 on this day because he said we wouldn't play more than 14 holes even though we ended up finishing with plenty of light), and fun - sign up for their mailing list at newtoncommonwealth@sterlinggolf.com, and you'll become privy to some very interesting tournaments such as the "Big Cup Scramble" (a 4-person scramble with 6" cups - unbelievably fun), or the 6-club scramble (and no sharing!). </div>
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So if you're ever in the Boston area and want to hack it around on a hillside that the great Scot Donald Ross once trod upon, take your sticks over to Newton Comm. And don't let the first hole fool you. This course is a <a href="http://movie-sounds.org/comedy-movie-sounds/caddyshack-1980/thats-a-doozy-judge" target="_blank">doozy, Judge</a>. </div>
Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-2892944576241753372014-09-10T23:22:00.003-04:002015-04-15T10:37:20.743-04:00NFL Prison Edition: Starting OffenseIt's been well documented that our nation's prison system represents a <a href="http://www.vera.org/pubs/special/price-prisons-what-incarceration-costs-taxpayers" target="_blank">huge drain on taxpayer money</a>, often puts the <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2012/03/25/justice/wrongful-conviction-payments/index.html" target="_blank">wrong people behind bars</a>, and generally acts as a <a href="http://www.couriermail.com.au/news/a-life-behind-bars-stunts-the-growth-of-our-neediest-kids/story-e6frerdf-1226637846566?nk=f692dbdfa08ad476a9bcf5a2550888dd" target="_blank">retardant to the mental and physical growth of a human being</a>.<br />
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With all that said, jail time is still a pretty decent indication of the relative worth of a human being. Like, in general, the larger proportion of a person's life lived inside of a jail cell (or awaiting someone's decision on whether or not they'll occupy said cell), the less valuable that person is to society.<br />
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In separate but related news, there are a number of current or former NFL players who have made decisions shitty enough to land themselves a spot inside a concrete-lined cell. Some of these players were (or are) quite good. In fact, if you were to create some sort of offensive starting 11, it might look like this. (Lineup at the bottom)<br />
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<b>QB: Michael Vick</b><br />
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<a href="http://www.thesmokinggun.com/sites/default/files/imagecache/670xX/photos/mvickmug1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.thesmokinggun.com/sites/default/files/imagecache/670xX/photos/mvickmug1.jpg" height="200" width="191" /></a></div>
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<b>Arrest story:</b><br />
Vick was convicted of federal conspiracy in connection with his ownership of the Bad Newz Kennel dog fighting ring. At first he denied the whole thing and tried to blame it on his "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bad_Newz_Kennels_dog_fighting_investigation#cite_note-No_Knowledge-13" target="_blank">family members and cousin</a>" (maybe he was using "cousin" as a loose term), before finally taking the fall. This cretin (hilariously aliased as Ron Mexico) was sentenced to 23 months in federal prison in 2007.<br />
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<b>Football skills:</b><br />
His sandlot style of play and legendary scrambling ability would surely make him the top quarterback in any prison league, where dicey field quality often hampers the choreographed short-passing offenses favored by so many NFL teams these days.<br />
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<b>Prison movie parallel:</b><br />
<a href="http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20110301033938/shawshank/images/d/d4/Elmo_Blatch.jpg" target="_blank">Elmo Blatch</a>, The Shawshank Redemption<br />
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<b>HB: Ray Rice</b><br />
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<a href="http://www.ebengregory.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/ray-rice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.ebengregory.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/ray-rice.jpg" height="112" width="200" /></a></div>
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<b>Arrest story:</b><br />
Though this particular douchebag hasn't been officially sent to prison yet, it's really only a matter of time at this point. Unless you're <a href="http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120705152504/spongebob/images/4/4e/Mov_03.png" target="_blank">Patrick Star</a>, you'll have heard about his actions and probably watched them. They're heinous and he deserves to sit in a cell for a very long time.<br />
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<b>Football skills:</b><br />
When he wasn't assaulting the mother of his child, he was juking and jiving his way to some Pro-Bowl seasons with the Ravens (who will make an appearance again later in this list). He's also got a low center of gravity, which is essential when trying to turn the corner on the loose dust of a Texas penitentiary exercise yard.<br />
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<b>Prison movie parallel:</b><br />
<a href="http://38.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lule6pNG1e1qmr448o1_r1_500.png" target="_blank">Frank Wheeler</a>, Revolutionary Road (not set in a jail, but that relationship must have felt like one)<br />
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<b>HB: OJ Simpson</b><br />
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<a href="http://gamedayr.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/PHO-10Sep22-253752.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://gamedayr.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/PHO-10Sep22-253752.jpg" height="200" width="184" /></a></div>
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<b>Arrest story:</b><br />
We couldn't have this list without the Juice. The original smooth criminal, this slippery fellow somehow weasled his way out of a murder conviction despite overwhelming evidence that he murdered his ex-wife and her new boyfriend. You know the story. He's also currently in jail for stealing his own memorabilia or something.<br />
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<b>Football skills:</b><br />
The man could scoot. He was the first player to run for 2,000 yards in a season, and he'll make up the other half of a potent backfield tandem with the domestic abuser.<br />
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<b>Prison movie parallel:</b><br />
<a href="http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20110604230636/shawshank/images/1/1b/Andy_Dufresne.jpg" target="_blank">Andy Dufresne</a>, The Shawshank Redemption (but without the whole "actually innocent" thing)<br />
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<b>FB: Jamal Lewis</b><br />
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<a href="http://baltimoresportsreport.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/jamal-lewis-mugshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://baltimoresportsreport.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/jamal-lewis-mugshot.jpg" height="200" width="170" /></a></div>
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<b>Arrest story:</b><br />
Jamal Lewis, in case you've forgotten, is the human bowling ball that used to play for the Ravens and, in 2003, won the AP Offensive Player of the Year. After his four-month stint in the clink for conspiracy to possess with intent to distribute cocaine, he came out even more jacked than usual.<br />
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<b>Football skills:</b><br />
That's right, it's the old Wishbone formation - a quarterback, two halfbacks and a fullback. Power sweeps like the old-time Green Bay Packers until they prove they can stop it. He'd be a perfect lead blocker for the three horsemen listed above.<br />
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<b>Prison movie parallel:</b><br />
<a href="http://cdn.hark.com/images/000/417/242/417242/original.jpg" target="_blank">Switowski</a>, The Longest Yard<br />
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<b>WR1: Michael Irvin</b><br />
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<a href="http://www.clumsycrooks.com/media/files18/mugshots/michael_irvin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.clumsycrooks.com/media/files18/mugshots/michael_irvin.jpg" height="200" width="168" /></a></div>
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<b>Arrest story:</b><br />
Never able to quite escape the long arm of the law, the self-appointed "Playmaker" has a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Irvin#Legal_troubles" target="_blank">"Legal Troubles" Wikipedia section</a> longer than this blog post. My favorite nugget is this one: "When arrested he was lying on the floor covered in cocaine with multiple strippers performing sexual acts upon him." I think I'd take a criminal record for that.<br />
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<b>Football skills:</b><br />
When he could stay on the field, Irvin was one of the best wide receivers of all time, winning three Super Bowls and getting inducted into the Hall of Fame. The big guy can go up and get it, and he's already got plenty of experience in <a href="http://cdn.fansided.com/wp-content/blogs.dir/59/files/2013/02/302420-deacon_moss.jpg">prison football</a>. This will make him an asset on the rare occasions this team needs to air it out.<br />
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<b>Prison movie parallel:</b><br />
<a href="http://img4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130804220049/doblaje/es/images/c/c7/Deacon_Moss_88_Michael_Irvin_Golpe_bajo.png" target="_blank">Deacon Moss</a>, The Longest Yard<br />
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<b>TE: Aaron Hernandez</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqcX989wY2QFMzEgsb19WwEfis0Avq6lZgpi5PMsCKKwZWpl8L6uVp3Je00pFO41ayxPClelZ6iH-DAr02DRZRDTZafAONI3VYSC_T7xU6EM9Slp4oM9HZRTKt2m8Pd7PLfl0w9iWh4dM/s1600/a+a+ron.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqcX989wY2QFMzEgsb19WwEfis0Avq6lZgpi5PMsCKKwZWpl8L6uVp3Je00pFO41ayxPClelZ6iH-DAr02DRZRDTZafAONI3VYSC_T7xU6EM9Slp4oM9HZRTKt2m8Pd7PLfl0w9iWh4dM/s1600/a+a+ron.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>Arrest story:</b><br />
You had to see this one coming. A-A-Ron was just convicted of first degree murder in the shooting of Odin Lloyd. He's also going to stand trial soon for a double murder that happened in Boston several years ago. A real stand-up guy.<br />
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<b>Football skills:</b><br />
I'll be honest though, when he was teaming up with Gronk to form the most feared tight end combination in NFL history, I was loving every second of it. The guy had the speed and leaping ability of a wide receiver combined with a brawn that overpowered all but the strongest safeties. He'd be a valuable security blanket for Vick if they needed a late third down conversion. Plus, I'm sure he's not averse to roughing up a few referees before the championship to intimidate them.<br />
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<b>Prison movie equivalent:</b><br />
<a href="http://37.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_luxmlkkx5A1qzyaito1_1280.gif" target="_blank">Charlie Cheswick</a>, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (more a mental hospital movie, but you get it)<br />
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<b>LT: Kwame Harris</b><br />
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<a href="http://www.inflexwetrust.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/IFWT_Kwame-Harris-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.inflexwetrust.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/IFWT_Kwame-Harris-2.jpeg" height="157" width="200" /></a></div>
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<b>Arrest story:</b><br />
Now, if you're still reading this, congratulations. But also, if you're still reading this, you might be saying "<i>Who?</i>" - and I wouldn't blame you. Turns out that there aren't a lot of high-profile offensive linemen arrested these days. But Kwame's story is pretty interesting. [John Madden voice] Here's a guy who played six NFL seasons, played around a lot of great big, strong men, and it turns out he's actually[Rick Majerus voice (RIP)] a big gay guy. Sorry for all the voice changes. Point is, Kwame likes dudes, and the way we found this out was that he was arrested in California a few years ago for <a href="http://sports.yahoo.com/blogs/shutdown-corner/kwame-harris-former-49ers-raiders-offensive-lineman-arrested-213622387--nfl.html" target="_blank">having a slap fight </a>with his ex-boyfriend. Except that slap fights are different if one of the guys is 6'7 and 240 pounds. His ex had to go to the hospital with broken orbital bones and needed surgery.<br />
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<b>Football skills:</b><br />
He was the 26th overall pick out of Stanford in 2003, and played left tackle for the 49ers and Raiders before falling out of the league. I debated putting him at right tackle, but felt that another man further down the list has some slightly better credentials for blocking Vick's blind side. In any case, if he can break a few orbital bones, he can probably hold his own in the prison league.<br />
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<b>Prison movie character parallel:</b><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n-nw3g5gVY0/Thn3QX0WpQI/AAAAAAAAAD0/R2GZa9aEJYs/s1600/ShawshankRedempt_061Pyxurz.jpg" target="_blank">Bogs Diamond</a>, The Shawshank Redemption<br />
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<b>LG: Daniel Kilgore</b><br />
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<b>Arrest story:</b><br />
Nothing much to see here. Kilgore's a backup OL for the 49ers who was arrested for public intoxication earlier this year. Apparently after the Niners lost to the Seahawks he went home and got shitfaced with his buddies, and the cops picked him up staggering down the street.<br />
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<b>Football skills:</b><br />
According to the <a href="http://profootballtalk.nbcsports.com/2014/01/31/49ers-guard-daniel-kilgore-arrested-for-public-intoxication/" target="_blank">story of his arrest</a>, he's a "valuable reserve" and played in every game last year. That's good enough for a starting left guard spot, because honestly no one cares about interior linemen. Plus, he and Harris both played for the Niners, and continuity is everything along the O-Line.<br />
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<b>Prison movie parallel:</b><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjekA6Fnm08/Thn5zdchlPI/AAAAAAAAAFs/KofRmUclyiM/s1600/ShawshankRedempt_146Pyxurz.jpg" target="_blank">Tommy Williams</a>, The Shawshank Redemption<br />
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<b>C, Ray Lewis</b><br />
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<a href="http://www.thesmokinggun.com/sites/default/files/imagecache/670xX/photos/rlewismug1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.thesmokinggun.com/sites/default/files/imagecache/670xX/photos/rlewismug1.jpg" height="158" width="200" /></a></div>
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<b>Arrest story:</b><br />
Who hasn't heard this one a few hundred times? The Ravens ought to stop drafting Rays. In short, he was outside a nightclub in Atlanta with some friends, got into a fight, and two people in the other group ended up dead. The white suit that he had been wearing that night was never found, and blood from one of the victims was found inside his limousine, but then his attorneys negotiated a plea deal where the murder charges against him were dropped in exchange for his testimony against his "friends." Sweet guy. Loves the Bible, I'm told.<br />
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<b>Football skills:</b><br />
On the field as well as off, the man is a born leader. He's a lump of solid steel and is almost impossible to get past, plus he commands the center of the field like a general directing troop movements. If he played an offensive position, it would have to be center.<br />
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<b>Prison movie parallel:</b><br />
<a href="http://gifavs.com/gifs/638295/a-few-good-men-youre-goddamn-right-i-did-jack-nicholson" target="_blank">Nathan Jessup</a>, A Few Good Men (Not strictly a prison movie, plus Lewis never came clean. I'm reaching now).<br />
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<b>RG: Gennaro DiNapoli</b><br />
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<b>Arrest story:</b><br />
In a nice change of pace, this human lump was busted for selling 330 Oxy pills to undercover DEA agents. Plus, he's absolutely one of the top ten most Italian people in the United States, and this list was pleading for some ethnic diversity.<br />
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<b>Football skills:</b><br />
I dunno, he once played for the Cowboys? He's a right guard and this team will thrive on the outside running game - his only job is to not get reverse-pancaked on every play.<br />
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<b>Prison movie parallel:</b><br />
<a href="http://rememberthesonics.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/turley.jpg" target="_blank">Turley</a>, The Longest Yard<br />
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<b>RT: Bryant McKinnie</b><br />
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<b>Arrest story:</b><br />
Well for starters, he was involved in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minnesota_Vikings_boat_party_scandal" target="_blank">Vikings Love Boat scandal</a>, which some people didn't find all that terrible (me) and some found rather terrible (the media). But also, he hit a bouncer outside of a Miami nightclub with a pole and was charged with aggravated battery, among other things. All things considered, not the worst guy on this list by a long shot. He also obviously missed Nelly's tutorial on where to put the Band-Aid.<br />
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<b>Football story:</b><br />
A top-10 draft pick out of THE U, McKinnie had some very solid years in the league. This gives him the highly coveted position of protecting Vick's blind side. Along with the fact that if anyone gets in his way, there's probably plenty of poles lying around a prison yard to be picked up and used for whacking people.<br />
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<b>Prison movie parallel:</b><br />
<a href="http://images.rapgenius.com/bb77ejytlx0mkj76cnin3x8ad.614x346x1.jpg" target="_blank">John Coffey</a>, The Green Mile (just because I needed to put him in somewhere)<br />
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<br />Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-84124847176862708522014-08-23T12:24:00.001-04:002014-08-25T16:00:15.998-04:00From the Frying Pan to the Fire(works): Balotelli Comes to LiverpoolIt's not a stretch to say that the entirety of Liverpool's 2014 has been dominated by the name "Luis Suarez" - whether it was his out-of-this-galaxy play down the stretch in the Premier League, his tooth-first assault of Giorgio Chiellini at the World Cup, or his sale to Barcelona in late July. The man is a top-5 world talent, a menace to himself and others, and would be the first choice to be the new Dos Equis spokesman if <a href="http://cdn.motinetwork.net/demotivationalposters.net/image/demotivational-poster/0906/most-interesting-man-in-the-world-demotivational-poster-1245215361.jpg">Jonathan Goldsmith</a> drops dead in a tragic nude hang gliding accident.<br />
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With Suarez gone, the talk turned to the Uruguayan-sized hole in the top line. Daniel Sturridge scored the second-most goals in the EPL last year, but the influence of Suarez as a source of those goals cannot be overstated. No one knows if Sturridge can carry a team himself, and fortunately, we won't need to wonder about it anymore.<br />
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That's because Super Mario Balotelli is coming back to the Premier League.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.666666984558105px;">Miss me?</td></tr>
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If you have followed world soccer in the past five years, you've heard of Balotelli, and if you've heard of Balotelli, you know exactly how excited every Premier League fan is after hearing this news. After an extremely volatile three years on the blue side of Manchester, Balotelli returned to his homeland for a season and a half at AC Milan before moving to Liverpool today. He instantly turns Liverpool into the most interesting team in the Premier League, for a number of reasons.<br />
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If you haven't heard of Balotelli, let's try to put this into American sports terms. This would be like if Latrell Sprewell was one of the top 15 players in the NBA (and the Knicks were a top 3 team) when he choked P.J. Carlisemo, then moved to play for the Phoenix Suns for a season and a half, then got traded to the Celtics, who were also a top 5 team and had just traded Paul Pierce. Kind of. Except Balotelli choked his coach stylistically by playing long stretches lost in his own head, rather than physically by squeezing his throat.<br />
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You know what? It's not like that at all. There's really nothing like Balotelli returning to the Premier League, so let's just get into what impact this move will have for the Reds this season.<br />
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<b>Balotelli's Impact</b><br />
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The word "mercurial" is the most overused adjective in world football punditry. It can mean anything from "talented but unmotivated" to "talented but racist and violent towards opponents" (Suarez) to "talented but unmotivated and violent towards teammates and also sometimes he shoots off fireworks in his bathroom that one time" (our very own Balotelli). Seriously, take a look at some of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mario_Balotelli#Personality_and_public_image">shit he's pulled</a> and tell me he's not more of a headache than the Terrible Tooth.<br />
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So, we've taken one crazy striker and replaced him with another. But this is anything but a like-for-like switch.<br />
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Suarez has one of the highest work rates in world football. I tried for legitimately an hour to find stats on average distance traveled per player and couldn't, so you're gonna have to trust me on this one. Conversely, one of the biggest knocks on Balotelli is that he doesn't always give 100% effort. He's almost like a petulant child on the playground in some ways - one minute he'll be playing full-tilt, and the next minute he'll be distracted by a colorful butterfly (yellow card) or a group of youngsters on the swingset (heckling fans) and will totally lose his mind.<br />
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In addition, Balotelli and Suarez occupy slightly different roles within an offensive scheme. Despite Suarez's record goal haul last year, he is much more than just a poacher. Here's a map of all the places that he touched the ball during a match last season against Sunderland:<br />
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Though it's only one game, it's evident that Suarez is comfortable dropping deep to receive possession. His statistics from last season bear this out, and one in particular is interesting to note: Suarez created <a href="http://eplindex.com/50392/improved-luis-suarez-player-of-the-year-stats-12-13-vs-13-14.html">one chance for every 32 minutes</a> he was on the pitch. This is in contrast to Balotelli's rate of <a href="http://eplindex.com/20728/should-he-stay-or-should-he-go-a-stats-comparison-man-city-strikers.html">one chance created per 65 minutes</a>. Liverpool have some creative players in the squad, including noted assist maestros Philippe Coutinho and Adam Lallana, but Suarez was a major piece of their buildup play as well, not just a finisher. Let's not forget he finished with the second-most assists in the Premier League as well, behind Gerrard. Balotelli doesn't do assists:</div>
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
Mario Balotelli officially joins Liverpool. He has 20 goals in 54 PL games. His only PL assist: to Agüerooooo on final day of 2011-12.<br />
— Paul Carr (@PCarrESPN) <a href="https://twitter.com/PCarrESPN/statuses/503941147463790592">August 25, 2014</a></blockquote>
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Balotelli and Suarez don't share much in common physically other than excellent speed. Suarez is a slippery fish, able to wriggle into and out of jams in incredibly tight spaces at top speed. Balotelli is a more bruising presence, though he stops short of being the type of hulking forward usually seen patrolling Chelsea's top line. </div>
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<a href="http://insider.espn.go.com/sports/soccer/story/_/id/11387575/soccer-mario-balotelli-infused-liverpool-attack-better-last-year-group">Some have said</a> that Liverpool's attack may be even more potent this year, what with Balotelli's ability to sky for the crosses of Markovic, Lallana, Gerrard and others. I believe this to be wishful thinking - you only have to look through a <a href="http://youtu.be/nS8pqLtyEZU?t=2m10s">highlight tape of Suarez's goals</a> last year to know that the Uruguayan was no slouch in the air himself.</div>
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The best thing that can be said for Balotelli is that he will be an asset to Liverpool's counterattacking style. His size and speed will terrify back lines across the league. Will he replace Suarez? No. But no one could. He's an excellent striker at his best and a team cancer at his worst, so let's hope that the promise of Champions League football and Brendan Rodgers's letter-based inspiration tactics work on the young Italian.</div>
Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-57126525914543162302014-08-18T14:58:00.001-04:002014-08-19T13:44:29.647-04:00In the Books: SAS 2.0 deliver Reds 3 pointsAfter a seemingly endless procession of preseason matches, culminating in a loss to Manchester United in the final of the Guinness International Champions Cup, Liverpool FC finally took the field yesterday for a match that meant something.<br />
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The good news? A win, 2-1, over Southampton. </div>
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The bad? A few issues, some new, many old, that will need swift fixes if the team is to escape the early part of the schedule with their title dreams unblemished. </div>
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Still, as the man who scored the winner <a href="http://liverpooloffside.sbnation.com/liverpool-news-coverage/2014/8/18/6030259/sturridge-focused-on-result-after-difficult-opener">points out</a>, the win is the important thing.<br />
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<b>SAS 2.0 is here.</b><br />
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Last year's deadly strike force of Suarez and Sturridge terrorized Premier League defenses to the tune of 52 goals in 38 matches. Of course, with Suarez off to greener pastures, the goals will fall to a variety of attacking midfielders, including incumbents such as Raheem Sterling, Jordan Henderson, and Phillippe Coutinho, as well as new signings Adam Lallana and Lazar Markovic.<br />
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We're only one game in, and two of those incumbents mentioned are acquitting themselves rather well:</div>
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That's 19-year-old Sterling showing off his blistering pace, splitting the two central defenders and dispatching Henderson's inch-perfect through ball with ease.<br />
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What that Vine doesn't show is the scrap for the ball in midfield. If Liverpool's attack is to be even remotely as toothy as it was last year, they'll need to win these types of balls. Rather than a methodical, pendulum-like possession team (Barcelona, Arsenal, any team that Pep Guardiola manages), the Reds relied upon pure pace and lethal counterattacking to get goals last season. These types of goals are easier to come by if you're consistently stripping possession from your opponents in midfield. Keep it up, Hendo.<br />
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And what can you say about Daniel Sturridge, except that he's a goalscorer's goalscorer. Some may call this soft, or padding the stats. But I call him a latter-day <a href="http://youtu.be/kPkgvM0e0nA?t=2m21s">Dirk Kuyt</a> - a man able to be in the perfect position at the perfect time:<br />
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<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
Sturridge goal to put Liverpool ahead <a href="https://t.co/feRgi3w11k">https://t.co/feRgi3w11k</a><br />
— Football News Alert (@Footy_Layne24) <a href="https://twitter.com/Footy_Layne24/statuses/501008054058766336">August 17, 2014</a></blockquote>
With a deft touch of... um... some part of his left leg, the ball ends up in the net and Liverpool regains the lead.<br />
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And also, who won that header for the assist? None other than 5'7 inch Raheem Sterling. Granted, he won it over 5'8 Steven Davis, but still. SAS is back!<br />
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<b>The defense rests. </b><br />
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For much of last season, Liverpool's seemed to subscribe to the axiom positing that the best defense is a great offense. And it nearly won them the league.<br />
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This simply won't work with the squad as currently constituted. If you could roll Steven Gerrard's odometer back a few thousand miles, or conjure up a last-gasp signing of one of the big names that seem to be floating around (<a href="http://www.caughtoffside.com/2014/08/18/edinson-cavani-marco-reus-among-five-players-liverpool-could-still-sign-after-manager-admits-he-is-still-looking-to-buy/">Cavani, Reus, Falcao... <i>Eto'o?</i></a>), then perhaps. But barring those two things, this team will have to defend better, and that means defending as a unit.<br />
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Suarez, when not devouring human flesh, was an absolute pest of a defender. Sturridge, to put it bluntly, is not. And for all Sterling's pace, he sometimes sprints himself out of position in an effort to win possession. It's obvious that a team can't be both a park-the-bus defensive unit and a swashbuckling goal-plunderer, but Liverpool need to realize that a little of the former will make up for their loss of the latter. Sterling's goal came from solid defensive midfield work - the type of work that Steven Gerrard (Warning: blasphemy ahead) might not be capable of on a consistent basis.<br />
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This was evident during long, listless stretches against Southampton, when the deep-lying central midfield partnership of Lucas and Gerrard looked toothless and reactionary. I often forgot that Lucas was even on the field, and Gerrard's long balls, while accurate, didn't amount to many scoring threats.<br />
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The defense performed passably, though there were lots of lost marks on Southampton's lone goal:<br />
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Glen Johnson and Martin Skrtel, Liverpool's two longest-tenured defenders, seem to be marking shadows. This type of thing will not fly against better quality opposition, both domestically and in Europe. On the positive side, we <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sport/football/article-2726656/Liverpool-sign-Alberto-Moreno-former-Sevilla-man-officially-unveiled.html">FINALLY signed a left back</a>, which should help.<br />
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<b>Three takeaways. </b><br />
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Let's take three things away from this week's game, just as the Reds took three points.<br />
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1. Simon Mignolet's reaction time is relatively outrageous:<br />
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<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
What a save by Mignolet! <a href="http://t.co/CvOMQughiW">http://t.co/CvOMQughiW</a><br />
— Liverpool FC Vines (@LFC_Vines) <a href="https://twitter.com/LFC_Vines/statuses/501010408061538305">August 17, 2014</a></blockquote>
2. Brendan Rodgers loves to tinker with lineups and formations, and just look at the wealth of talent he has to do it with:<br />
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<li>Adam Lallana</li>
<li>Rickie Lambert</li>
<li>Raheem Sterling</li>
<li>Jordan Henderson</li>
<li>Phillippe Coutinho</li>
<li>Steven Gerrard</li>
<li>Joe Allen</li>
<li>Daniel Sturridge</li>
<li>Lazar Markovic</li>
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3. Champions League football is back. YNWA</div>
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<b><br /></b>Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-36999829189061933152014-07-24T10:21:00.000-04:002014-07-24T10:26:59.373-04:00Dispatches from the Worst Soccer Game of All Time"I want this game to get chippy."<br />
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That was an actual sentence I said during the first half of last night's Liverpool-AS Roma debacle at Fenway Park.<br />
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I was obviously deluded. So deluded, in fact, that my friend had to inform me of the fact that the players for Liverpool's first team (names like Gerrard, Sterling, Johnson, Sturridge, and Reina) who were paraded across the pitch at halftime like returning war heroes were actually labeled as "Liverpool legends" by the Fenway P.A. announcer.<br />
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Yup, now apparently a 19 year old midfielder with one good season under his belt is a "legend."<br />
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This game, with perhaps two exceptions, was a disappointment from beginning to end.<br />
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Being the massive Liverpool supporter that I am, I was thrilled to be seated in the midst of the "Fenway Kop" and was expecting a full-throated, rollicking version of "You'll Never Walk Alone." The song began with no introduction several minutes after we were seated, and a halfhearted, half-full bleacher section mewled out the anthem in much the same way a kitten cries for more milk.<br />
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One positive moment was the tribute to the 96 victims of the Hillsborough Stadium disaster which happened 25 years ago in April. A banner reading "Never Forgotten, 25 years" was placed over the center circle, and there was a minute's silence, during which Kenny Dalglish released 96 balloons which floated over the Green Monster and out into the city.<br />
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From there, it went downhill quickly.<br />
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The play was uninspired, with both teams trotting out their B- (or even C-) squads. Philippe Coutinho was far and away the best player on the field, showing brilliant ball control and vision on nearly every touch. Several narrow escapes from tricky situations pulled a breathless exclamation from the Liverpool faithful.<br />
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Unfortunately, aside from one Rickie Lambert effort in the second half, Coutinho was the only bright spot for the Reds. Yes, the berserker Martin Skrtel was solid in defense, as was the lanky and somehow skilled Martin Kelly. But there was no invention going forward, with Lambert cutting a lonely figure amongst the central defenders of Roma.<br />
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The second half turned ugly, at least from our perspective.<br />
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Now, I've never attended a European football match in Europe. But I have been to many college soccer games, New England Revolution games, and two other matches between European teams (Celtic v Sporting at Fenway and Milan v Inter at Gillette), and I seem to remember standing up the whole time at all of these events.<br />
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Soccer is a game of ebb and flow, a constant swirl of motion, with few stoppages and no timeouts. Though many deride it as boring, it actually produces the most consistent action of any major sport. Thus, you can imagine our confusion when the second half started, and almost everyone in our section (allegedly the Liverpool supporters' section) remained seated.<br />
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The group in front of us, a similar collection of mid-20s soccer enthusiasts, stood up as soon as the whistle blew. This seemed to be the norm for them, as it was for us. We soon realized that we were in the minority, and if we hadn't, the people behind us were all too ready to alert us to this fact.<br />
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Curses, sarcastic jeers, comments about our appearance, and actual objects were hurled from behind us, as those patrons who no doubt sit in an office chair all day couldn't be bothered to stand up and watch a soccer game which they paid good money to attend. As a few of us turned to engage, my attention was particularly drawn to a portly man in a Wake Forest baseball cap. This was a man who clearly had less than the first clue about anything related to soccer, yet he was in the thick of it, screaming sarcastic taunts at us as we stood to watch. We returned a few words, but soon realized it was distracting for other patrons and ourselves.<br />
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I understand that not being able to see is a legitimate complaint. However, the entire section to our left was standing up, as were many other patrons around the stadium. The energy on the field was lethargic at best, but it was certainly not improved by the sentiment in the stands. Granted, we're not watching the first team go plunging into challenges on a European night at Anfield. But, come on now, this is the team that you wake up at 7 AM on a rainy Saturday in November to watch. The team that you stream at your desk during a Europa League group stage match. The team that you spend far too much disposable income on to ship products from the official team store on Anfield Road (I'm assuming that's where the team store is. I've never been.).<br />
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The second half, for us, was endured under the heckling of men who should have been our friends, our comrades, our drinking buddies. "You'll Never Walk Alone" blares the Liverpool anthem. An umbrella statement that seems to indicate that anywhere in the world that two people sporting the Liver bird beneath the Shankly Gate meet, they're bonded instantly by the love of a football club.<br />
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Last night, as we were pelted by insults and plastic cups while standing to support our football club amongst a crowd of those who <i>allegedly</i> supported the same club, walking alone to the exit doors of Fenway Park often felt the best option.<br />
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But, I did get my wish. It definitely got chippy.Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-82071989752827171832014-07-15T00:08:00.000-04:002014-07-15T09:54:41.098-04:00Luis Suarez is Gone... Is the Sky Falling?<a href="http://www.thisisanfield.com/2014/07/replacing-irreplaceable/">Yes</a>.<br />
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Or, wait. <a href="http://www.liverpoolecho.co.uk/sport/sport-opinion/mark-lawrenson-difficult-replace-him-7414012">Kinda</a>.<br />
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Hold on... <a href="http://www.thisisanfield.com/2014/07/bitten-twice-shy-suarezs-departure-still-leaves-hope-hearts/">No, it's not</a>.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.reactiongifs.com/r/MmnIjQa.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.reactiongifs.com/r/MmnIjQa.gif" height="179" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...wut</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On the surface, this is devastating. This is LeBron leaving Cleveland for Miami, in terms of your best player taking your team to the brink of glory and then skipping town to go to a superteam.<br />
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Of course, we know the story of the Heat's "Big 3" who were supposed to win Not One, Not Two, Not Three, etc. but actually only won two. Barcelona are one of the top three or four teams in the world in terms of pure skill level, top to bottom, with names that even the casualest soccer fan would know (Messi, Neymar, Mascherano of torn asshole fame, and Mr. Shakira).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://www.whoateallthepies.tv/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/Shakira.jpg" height="239" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucky bastard</td></tr>
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This is also LeBron leaving Miami for Cleveland, in terms of a great player in the prime of his career making a career decision based on family issues. </div>
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Unless your face has been buried in a pair of <a href="http://www.barstoolsports.com/barstoolu/super-page/john-oliver-reads-warren-g-hardings-sex-letters/">soft, pillowing breasts</a> over the past month, you've heard that King James has returned to the shitty dominion from whence he came, and Suarez's wife's family (along with the allure of playing for the ever-elite Barrrrrrthelona) have convinced him to leave the Reds. Check out these two quotes from the stars about returning to a home. </div>
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<b>LeBron: </b>"My relationship with Northeast Ohio is bigger than basketball. I didn't realize that four years ago. I do now."</div>
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<b>Luis: </b>"This club did everything they could, but playing and living in Spain, where my wife's family lives, is a lifelong dream and ambition." </div>
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It's a surprisingly adult decision from two players whose antics have often been described as childish.</div>
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Suarez is more fiercely protective of his wife and his career than you probably are to your gambling/alcohol/FIFA 2014 addiction, as chronicled in this <a href="http://espn.go.com/espn/feature/story/_/id/10984370/portrait-serial-winner-luis-suarez-soccer-most-beautiful-player"><i>incredible </i>profile</a> by Wright Thompson. Seriously, take a night off from your vice of choice and read that piece - it's tremendous. </div>
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So, rather than bring terror to back lines across the English Premier League next year, he'll be jockeying for playing time with some of the best forwards in the world in Spain. </div>
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<b>What does this mean for Liverpool?</b></div>
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A couple things.</div>
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<b>1. Goals from nothing will dry up. </b></div>
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Every sport has a few players who can create points out of absolutely nowhere - names that come up immediately in my mind, past and present, include Devin Hester, Kevin Durant, Pavel Datsyuk, and Giancarlo Stanton (imperfect comparison, but whatever).</div>
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Suarez is one of those players. Just look at the GIFage below.</div>
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<img alt="HauntingDigitalGerenuk Luis Saurez volleys a bouncing ball over John Ruddy from fully 40 yards [GIF]" src="http://giant.gfycat.com/HauntingDigitalGerenuk.gif" /> </div>
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<img src="http://giant.gfycat.com/FailingShyCopperhead.gif" /></div>
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<img alt="Suarez solo goal vs Norwich" src="http://giant.gfycat.com/ShrillUnfinishedJumpingbean.gif" /></div>
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<img alt="EnchantingImmaculateHumpbackwhale video iframe" src="http://giant.gfycat.com/EnchantingImmaculateHumpbackwhale.gif" /></div>
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Those goals, specifically the first and third, are what I'm talking about - goals scored with the type of audacity and panache that few in the global game possess. </div>
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Also, THOSE WERE ALL FROM THE SAME GAME.</div>
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Kid can play.</div>
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<b>2. Liverpool's team creativity will suffer. </b></div>
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Many teams employ a striker of the poaching variety: one of those forwards who sits on the back shoulder of a central defender, timing his runs into the box and trying to end up on the end of crosses for tap-in goals. Classic poachers include all-time leading World Cup scorer <a href="http://static01.nyt.com/images/2014/06/22/sports/on-soccer/on-soccer-master675.jpg">Miroslav Klose</a> and renowned Italian offside artist <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbArocXN8LF2kOmY0CsK2zW-NjZnhE-pNdPz4ZfTrT4YJWJovPKsuGveUgcCqKkQyxyHRHmFt29Mc0NfUnWLiAFM-pkS4wJdl__JlaC85bF0lRFru8mlQChBfMTR5X9XKaCbgeIZ9pG4J4/s1600/2010-11-04+Inzaghi+Offside+Diagram.jpg">Filippo Inzaghi</a>.</div>
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Suarez is the opposite - he'll drop deep into the midfield to receive the ball and link seamlessly with his midfielders to spring offensive attacks. Statistically, this is borne out by his 12 assists last season, good for second in the league (behind his teammate, Steven Gerrard). </div>
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The most deadly part of Liverpoool's attack last year was the interplay between Suarez and his fleet-footed "S" brothers - Daniel Sturridge and Raheem Sterling. Sturridge, 'Pool's other forward, finished in second place in the league goals race, with 21 - 10 behind Suarez. Sterling terrorized left backs with his speed and deception on the wing, often put through by Suarez himself. </div>
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With Luis in Spain, the Reds will need Phillippe Coutinho to step into a more prominent attacking midfield role. The Brazilian is still young but has shown the stereotypical "flashes of brilliance" - we'll need to see more from him as he sends new boys like Lazar Markovic, Adam Lallana, and Rickie Lambert into space this season.</div>
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<b>3. The defense will need to step up big time.</b></div>
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Pretty basic analysis here: the best defense is a good offense. That was Liverpool's strategy last year - they went out with the mindset that they were going to pulverize every team into submission, and damn the torpedoes. This was the reason that they scored the second most goals in the league (101) but conceded more than 6 of the top 10 teams (50, to champion Manchester City's 37). </div>
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While I'm pretty confident in our retooled offense's ability to put up numbers, I'm worried about the defense. </div>
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First off, as Steven Gerrard ages, he'll start to drift further and further back to play in a Pirlo-like role, pinging balls to the forwards and wingers. However, he's not the most mobile dude on the pitch as a 35-year-old Englishman with thousands of miles on his boots. </div>
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Secondly, our actual defense is in flux. We have a first-choice right back in England's Glen Johnson, who I'm fine with. Jamie Carragher is retired, and one of our center backs is a berserker Slovak by the name of Martin Skrtel...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i1.dailypost.co.uk/incoming/article2619000.ece/alternates/s615/pics-image-3-557227690.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i1.dailypost.co.uk/incoming/article2619000.ece/alternates/s615/pics-image-3-557227690.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remember me?</td></tr>
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who is not reliable enough (in my own personal opinion) to be the anchor at the back of this defense. The great blog <a href="http://anfieldindex.com/9296/replacing-luis-suarez-tactical-affair.html">Anfield Index</a> has a potential lineup for this season that includes France's Mamadou Sakho at the other center back position, which frightens me to no end. I guess we could have speedster Jose Enrique or Uruguayan youngster Sebastian Coates on the left, but those aren't inspiring options either. </div>
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<b>So, in short:</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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The sky is falling more than it isn't falling. For all of his noted on-field indiscretions and associated media scrutiny, Luis Suarez is a once-in-a-generation talent. He's the kind of player that LFC fans thought we had in Fernando Torres - a mercurial striker with the ability to score goals from anywhere, at any time, and more importantly, the ability to put the team on his back. We're going to have to alter the tactics this season, so don't bet on quite as many 4- and 5- goal games as last year. </div>
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Sigh. We'll always have <a href="http://www.soccer-blogger.com/2013/12/04/liverpool-vs-norwich-2013-5-1-highlights-luis-suarez-four-goals-sterling-johnson-video/">Norwich</a>.</div>
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Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-82382956575298943002014-07-02T23:07:00.000-04:002014-07-15T11:00:13.841-04:00Liverpool's 5 Most Important EPL Matches for 2014-2015<b>EDITOR'S NOTE: Luis Suarez has fled to the greener pastures of Barcelona. I wrote this post before that, so disregard Suarez references. The games remain just as important, however. No one player is bigger than the cloob.</b><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://m.c.lnkd.licdn.com/mpr/mpr/p/2/005/052/36f/25b9eb7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://m.c.lnkd.licdn.com/mpr/mpr/p/2/005/052/36f/25b9eb7.jpg" height="200" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1d/Unclesamwantyou.jpg">I want YOU</a> to watch Liverpool FC.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The US is out of the World Cup. The Red Sox are horrible. The Patriots are doing their little minicamp thing. The Celtics just drafted a complete crazy person. The Bruins just let Jarome Iginla walk. Aaron Hernandez is still in jail.<br />
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OK, that last one I'm actually fine with. </div>
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Regardless, it's a tough time to be a sports fan, particularly in Boston. All we can do is look forward and analyze (a sentence which, if the last word is pronounced differently, could be referring to butt stuff).</div>
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I'll leave the American football previews to the many who eat, sleep, and breathe that kind of thing, even as they fill their Depends with <a href="https://www.google.com/webhp?sourceid=chrome-instant&ion=1&espv=2&ie=UTF-8#q=%22jerry+thornton%22+%2B+%22patriots+priapism%22&safe=off">happy accidents</a>. </div>
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Instead, let's discuss the glorious Reds of Liverpool Football Club. </div>
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They earned a 2nd-place finish in the English Premier League last year on the back of an outstanding offense. Led by Luis Suarez and Daniel Sturridge, the Reds poured in 101 goals in 38 games, for an average of 2.65 goals per game. </div>
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<b>Pro tip</b>: Bet the over on Liverpool games.</div>
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Yes, they have world football's answer to Hannibal Lecter on their team (or more precisely, off their team for the first 3 months), so the output might be curtailed a bit. But they've brought in two young English lads who can bulge the onion bag with the best of them in Adam Lallana and Rickie Lambert. That oughta tide them over. </div>
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<div>
Alright, enough jabber. Onto the games. In descending order, these are your most important Liverpool matches of 2014-2015.</div>
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<b>If You Watch One Premier League Match All Year, Watch This One.</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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August 23</div>
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Manchester City vs Liverpool</div>
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<a href="http://trollfootball.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/1613891_1414118158854934_6363445137791717749_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://trollfootball.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/1613891_1414118158854934_6363445137791717749_n.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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The two top teams from last season face off in this early-season clash in Manchester. Though Liverpool holds a hometown rivalry with Everton and a historical blood feud with the <a href="http://cdn1.tnwcdn.com/wp-content/blogs.dir/1/files/2011/11/Manchester-United-nugget14-club-23268192-1024-600-657x245.jpg">red side of Manchester</a>, City are rising up the rankings as a team to hate with the points of a thousand Suarez incisors. Mainly because they're what the Brooklyn Nets would be if LeBron, Wade, Bosh, Kobe, and Carmelo all played there at various points and won championships (Arab oil money vs Russian diamond money, but 'tevs).<br />
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City and Liverpool were so offensively potent last year (both teams eclipsed 100 goals, with the next-closest scoring only 71) that you might think this game will end up like 6-5 or something.<br />
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That probably won't happen. Just like in baseball, the offense of a Premier League team takes a few weeks to come alive. Teams need to feel each other out and get used to new teammates' playing styles, plus everyone's flopping isn't even close to midseason form. This match is only on the second weekend of the season, so I'm guessing City will squeak out a close, 2-1 type victory.<br />
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<b>Pro tip: </b>Bet the under in this game.<br />
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<b>Pro tip: </b>Heed my pro tips at your own discretion.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><b>This One Could Determine The League, So There's That</b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="background-color: white;">May 9</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Chelsea v Liverpool</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
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<a href="http://media1.sulia.com/static/user_images/12/2013-05-27/c4ae158e-f699-4ea3-bf6e-ceed4c3ec609" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media1.sulia.com/static/user_images/12/2013-05-27/c4ae158e-f699-4ea3-bf6e-ceed4c3ec609" height="320" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;">Season-ending predictions at this point are about as useless as shit through a goose (I think that's the phrase), due to transfers, injuries, suspensions, managing errors, and some teams just playing inexplicably shittily. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;">However, going off recent performance, there's every reason to expect that this match could determine the league. It's the third to last match week of the season (or, as various British oddballs refer to it, the "pointy end," "squeaky-bum time," or "36/38ths, which of course reduces to 18/19ths.").</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;">Both teams will (theoretically, at least) be fatigued from a season-long Champions League effort. This one might come down to who's freshest, and who has the deeper bench. Lallana and Lambert are looking better every day. Physically and metaphorically.</span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="http://e2.365dm.com/12/08/496x259/Rickie-Lambert2_2813561.jpg?20120818161127" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://e2.365dm.com/12/08/496x259/Rickie-Lambert2_2813561.jpg?20120818161127" height="167" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Hoodie sold separately.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>The One You Watch Because It's the Derby</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;">September 27</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Liverpool v Everton</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.liverpoolbanter.co.uk/Tempers-flare-between-Liv-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.liverpoolbanter.co.uk/Tempers-flare-between-Liv-001.jpg" height="192" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">A derby is a local rivalry. Liverpool's rival is Everton. You can find a more detailed explanation <a href="http://robbievogel.blogspot.com/2014/06/liverpool-2014-season-preview-schedule.html">here</a>, but basically, watch this game if you like sports because it's as close as we get to whatever the fuck happened in Rome's Colosseum.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><b>Pro tip: </b>If there's an over/under for yellow cards, bet the over.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;">Also Tim Howard plays for Everton. He's <a href="http://www.nbcnews.com/storyline/world-cup/tim-howard-makes-record-saves-world-cup-n146646">rather good</a>.</span><br />
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<b>This Game is Important And Not Just Because It's the First One</b><br />
<b><br /></b>August 16<br />
Liverpool v Southampton<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://www.saintsfc.co.uk/cms_images/player/adam-lallana-pre-swansea-home-pc-news148-1096002_478x359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.saintsfc.co.uk/cms_images/player/adam-lallana-pre-swansea-home-pc-news148-1096002_478x359.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Would this face lie to you?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Whenever these types of previews come out, the first game of the year is always highlighted. Why? Cuz, fuck, the games are back on! Gather round the tube and drink in the wonder!<br />
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That's horseshit. As mentioned earlier, the first few games aren't very fun. In fact, it took until Liverpool's fourth match last year to manage two goals.<br />
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This game is big not because of its timing, but because of its characters. While the Terrible Tooth (TM) will be playing with his <span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>ni</i><span style="background-color: white;"><i>ños, </i>his position may well be occupied by a dude who played for the opponents last year.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">With the summer transfer window well and truly open, and big names moving between European clubs, Liverpool have snatched up the aforementioned Lallana (the boyish lad above) and Rickie Lambert from the southern club to add even more fuel to their attacking fire. This game should be fun. </span></span><br />
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<b>Pro tip: </b>Bet on Lallana or Lambert to be the first goalscorer. It probably won't happen, but if it does, you'll look like a genius. </div>
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<b><br /></b><b>Watch This to Seem Knowledgeable at Holiday Parties</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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December 13</div>
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Manchester United v Liverpool</div>
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<a href="http://www.redmanchester.com/media/galeria/130/3/3/1/0/n_manchester_united_supporters-3890133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.redmanchester.com/media/galeria/130/3/3/1/0/n_manchester_united_supporters-3890133.jpg" height="320" width="196" /></a></div>
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Man U are one of those teams that everybody knows, despite whether they know anything about soccer. So, as soccer becomes bigger and bigger in the States, some people might start to find themselves feeling left behind, much like the people in that new HBO show that <a href="http://nyc.barstoolsports.com/random-thoughts/the-leftovers-pilot-recap/">everyone's raving about</a>. </div>
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You can help these people. You can be the bridge between the known and the unknown. Watch this match, then strike up a conversation at your nearest holiday party (before you get belligerently drunk on eggnog and bourbon) that features most or all of the following topics:</div>
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<ul>
<li>Suarez's teething tendencies</li>
<li>How Brendan Rogers (Liverpool's manager) can keep all the attackers he has at his disposal happy with their playing time</li>
<li>The relative lustrousness of <a href="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Football/Pix/pictures/2012/11/10/1352563762704/Steven-Gerrard-is-poised--008.jpg">Steven Gerrard's</a> and <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=wayne+rooney+hair&safe=off&espv=2&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=oca0U8fEFeXr8QGzsIDYCw&ved=0CAYQ_AUoAQ&biw=1242&bih=585">Wayne Rooney's</a> hair.</li>
<li>Whether United will ever return to the dominance of the Sir Alex Ferguson years</li>
<li>How many shitty cover bands called "SAS" are playing dingy Liverpool bars at that moment</li>
<li>That one time that David Moyes managed Manchester United and then signed Marouane Fellaini (feel free to engage in a knowing chuckle here)</li>
<li>That one time Liverpool's Kolo Toure had a two-year affair with a woman by claiming he was a used car salesman named Francois. <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=wayne+rooney+hair&safe=off&espv=2&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=oca0U8fEFeXr8QGzsIDYCw&ved=0CAYQ_AUoAQ&biw=1242&bih=585">Seriously</a>.</li>
</ul>
So there you have it. The biggest games, ranked and discussed. Can't wait to get this shit started.<br />
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YNWA</div>
Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-90122416000211319882014-07-01T11:21:00.000-04:002014-07-07T20:10:29.158-04:00What Luis Suarez's Ban Means for 'Pool<b>EDITOR'S NOTE: I wrote this before I knew about this whole Barcelona thing. Including some bullshit that Liverpool and Barca had a transfer deal worked out for him <a href="http://bleacherreport.com/articles/2121384-barcelona-transfer-news-stunning-luis-suarez-claim-made-by-oscar-tabarez">last November</a>. Regardless, if shit falls through (like, if he bites Lionel Messi or something) and he doesn't move to Barcelona, then this is still valid. </b><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://static1.businessinsider.com/image/53a9b8e269beddce40ebe3f6/suarez-bite.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://static1.businessinsider.com/image/53a9b8e269beddce40ebe3f6/suarez-bite.gif" height="176" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nom.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Luis Suarez has many nicknames. El Pistolero, or "The Gunman," for his lethal finishing. El Conejo, or "The Rabbit," for his quickness and, presumably, his <a href="http://www.futfanatico.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/GrinTeeth.jpg">tremendous chompers</a>.<br />
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But now, thanks to those very chiclets, he's lived up to a nickname that my friend and I gave to him senior year: the Terrible Tooth. </div>
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By now, you've heard about the bite, and the fact that this is his third incident where he intentionally put an opponent's flesh into his stupid Uruguayan mouth. The man is a serial biter, which is a fine thing to be, provided that you're horribly uninformed on the spelling of a common breakfast item. </div>
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The sentence doled out by FIFA was swift and harsh - a 9 match ban from playing for his country and, more significantly, a 4 month ban from all football (soccer). </div>
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This is, in a word, disastrous for Liverpool. This is a club that prides itself on trophies. They have won the second-most English league titles (18 to Manchester United's 20) and the third-most Champions League titles (5 - tied with Bayern Munich and trailing AC Milan and Real Madrid). </div>
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Simply put, they are one of the most historic and successful clubs in the world. And Suarez is their best player. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pokerupdate.com/assets/Managed/NewsArticles/LuisSuarez.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pokerupdate.com/assets/Managed/NewsArticles/LuisSuarez.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shit yeah I am!</td></tr>
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Liverpool haven't played in the Champions League (a yearlong tournament to crown the best club team in Europe) since 2009-2010.<br />
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There's nothing really like the Champions League in American sports, since it runs concurrently with your team's actual regular season, but the best analogy is the Stanley Cup Playoffs. In both instances, players go their whole careers trying just to get into the tournament. Once you're in, it feels like an entirely new season, as the grind of the playoffs/CL is so long and arduous. But the payoff, winning that championship, is unquestionably the pinnacle of the sport. World Cups and league titles may be nice, but for many soccer players, a Champions League title is the dream.<br />
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By virtue of their 2nd-place finish in the English Premier League last year, Liverpool have qualified for the tourney. Suarez was the main reason for this qualification, as he dominated the league to the tune of 31 goals and the MVP Award (called the PFA Player of the Year). </div>
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This 4 month ban will see Suarez return to Merseyside at the end of October, which means he will miss not only the first three months of the English league, but the first three matches of the Champions League group stage. Without their fiery (read: crazy) and talented striker, Liverpool's dreams of returning to glory could be over before they begin. </div>
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It's not all doom and gloom for the Reds, as they have added a few players into the mix who will certainly bring some skills to the table, but that's a post for another day. </div>
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YNWA.<br />
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Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-42606796709484727802014-06-23T14:15:00.001-04:002014-07-15T11:02:50.448-04:00Liverpool 2014 Season Preview: Schedule<b>EDITOR'S NOTE: Luis Suarez has fled to the greener pastures of Barcelona. So disregard all Suarez references. The preview remains the same, however. No one player is bigger than the cloob.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
With the World Cup in full swing and people actually (kind of seriously) caring about soccer, it's the right time to start looking ahead to when the summer starts winding down, the chill returns to the air, and we all start looking towards the start of another football season.<br />
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European football, of course.<br />
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Yes, it's never too early to prognosticate some predictions about the English Premier League campaign, coming to an NBC affiliate station near you on August 16.<br />
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With that in mind, let's get in a few quick thoughts on the schedule of everyone's favorite <a href="http://images.cdn.fourfourtwo.com/sites/fourfourtwo.com/files/styles/inline-image/public/gerrard-wax.jpg?itok=_UMzM09M">one-eyed</a>, <a href="http://i.imgur.com/GliB7kL.jpg">one-horned</a>, <a href="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2012/08/26/article-2193748-14B3BB6C000005DC-703_634x373.jpg">flying</a> red-clad <a href="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2013/04/30/article-2317388-197FD145000005DC-819_634x475.jpg">people eaters</a>: Liverpool FC.<br />
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<a href="http://www.bbc.com/sport/football/teams/liverpool/fixtures">Full Liverpool schedule.</a><br />
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<b>No rest for the wicked (and weary).</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Luis Suarez might be the most polarizing player in world football. Tragically misunderstood as a bloodthirsty cannibal, he is actually a lover, not a fighter. And he loves victory, so he'll do whatever he can to get it. Including <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A0HgP-xq8iE">eating people</a>, <a href="http://youtu.be/s4aYvyEjX4U?t=9s">eating people</a>, and stopping shots with his hands (despite the fact that he's not a goalie).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.mlive.com/michigan_soccer/photo/suarez-handball-vs-ghanajpg-b5440127c23773d1_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://media.mlive.com/michigan_soccer/photo/suarez-handball-vs-ghanajpg-b5440127c23773d1_large.jpg" height="197" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But it was against Ghana, so, it's cool?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Regardless, it seems like the powers that be have conspired to give the Reds a surprisingly difficult start to the season, with a home match to tricky Southampton, then two away matches at champions Manchester City and a talented Tottenham Hotspur side.<br />
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For the record, those last two are just referred to as City and Spurs. Handy soccer lingo. A 2-1 start would be excellent, and 1-1-1 wouldn't be too bad either. </div>
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<b>We could win every game between October 4 and December 20.</b></div>
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Of course, we could win every game of the season, but that rarely happens. (Oh, by the way, Liverpool is "we" now - deal with it). </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i1.dailypost.co.uk/incoming/article2619000.ece/alternates/s615/pics-image-3-557227690.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i1.dailypost.co.uk/incoming/article2619000.ece/alternates/s615/pics-image-3-557227690.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Fucking deal with it.</i></td></tr>
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But for real, after the derby match with Everton on September 27 (more on that later), the teams that Liverpool play are rather pitiful. With the exception of Chelsea (3rd last year), the nine teams that we play had an average finish of 14th place (out of 20). </div>
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That means that we should be at or near the top at Christmas, which is the spiritual and metaphorical halfway point in the season. It's also important because recent history shows that the top of the league table (aka the standings) doesn't change much between Christmas and the end of the season (which is in late May). Top at Christmas? You've got a good shot at winning the league. Seems simple, and it is.</div>
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<b>Big games are scattered throughout.</b></div>
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There are no "Months of Death" in Liverpool's schedule (if that's even a thing). There's the huge early-season clash with City (August 23), the derby match at home against Everton (September 27), a birthday brawl with Arsenal (December 20 - send money to my Venmo account), and the return fixtures in these matchups: February 7 at Everton, the last day of February 75% of the time against City, and an April 4th match vs. Arsenal. </div>
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Long story short: there are no two big games back to back, even if you count Chelsea among one of the sides to be reckoned with (I don't, despite their new signings. The Premier League has not been kind to Spanish forwards at Chelsea).</div>
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<b>Wait, what's a derby?</b></div>
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Glad you asked. It's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Derby_match">this </a>- or if links aren't your thing, it's a local rivalry. Think Cubs-White Sox or Yankees-Mets (in terms of location) but Duke-UNC or Alabama-Auburn (in terms of intensity). Everton is the other major soccer team in Liverpool, and the stadiums of the two teams are separated by less than a mile. It's an absolute madhouse every time these two get together, and the cliche usually holds up: records and position in the standings mean nothing during a derby. </div>
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It's also pronounced "darby" - Brits are a goofy bunch.</div>
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So there you have it - a tough start, a cupcake autumn, and the chance to space out and prepare for some big fixtures. Yes, we'll be playing in the Champions League as well (FUCKING FINALLY RIGHT?), so fatigue will be a thing. But with Luis Suarez and Daniel Sturridge up front, I don't see why expecting another top-3 finish is out of the question.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.futfanatico.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/Electric-Arms-Smile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.futfanatico.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/Electric-Arms-Smile.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ -- <i>why not us?</i></td></tr>
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Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-12105464670172964812014-06-11T17:16:00.002-04:002014-06-11T17:18:14.162-04:006 Reasons Why Phil Mickelson Won't Win the US Open, and 1 Why He WillJust to be clear, I love me some Phil Mickelson. The guy is a genius with a golf club in his hand, and one of the best players to ever play the game. He's finished second at the US Open a record 411 times (just kidding it's <a href="https://plus.google.com/+GolfChannel/posts/MnNiM5iLunr">six</a>, but still), and, as usual, he's <a href="http://www.asapsports.com/show_interview.php?id=99542">jazzed </a>to get started at Pinehurst tomorrow. Ctrl+F "excited" in that link. It's like a damn Tim Tebow press conference.<br />
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Some people think he's finally going to get over this US Open hump, just the way he did at Muirfield last summer, and take down the career Grand Slam. Here are 6 reasons why that simply won't happen. And one why it might.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.huffpost.com/gen/1195936/thumbs/r-PHIL-MICKELSON-large570.jpg?15" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i.huffpost.com/gen/1195936/thumbs/r-PHIL-MICKELSON-large570.jpg?15" height="133" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shucks</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<ol>
<li>No lefty has ever won a US Open.</li>
<li>Only one player has won a US Open at an older age than Phil's 43 years, 364 days (yup, it's his birthday the day after the tournament ends), and that's Hale Irwin at 45 years, 15 days.</li>
<li>The tournament has only been played at Pinehurst Number 2 twice, and neither winner on those two occasions grew up in the Western U.S. Time Zone.</li>
<li>In fact, seven of the last ten US Open winners have not been American.</li>
<li>No man with the initials P.M. has ever lifted the US Open Championship trophy.</li>
<li>More startlingly, not only have zero Phils won this event, but there's nary a Paul, Peter, Patrick or Prescott to be found. The only winner whose name starts with a "P" is, you guessed it: Payne Stewart.</li>
</ol>
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ALTHOUGH</div>
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The US Open has only been played in the Southeastern United States three times. Twice at Pinehurst and once at Atlanta Athletic Club. Of those three winners, two of them (Payne Stewart and Jerry Pate) had names (first or last) that started with "P".</div>
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This has been your astonishingly dumb US Open preview. Jim Furyk or Matt Kuchar will win. </div>
Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-65030758659056637472014-06-09T10:16:00.002-04:002014-06-09T12:32:41.109-04:005 Really Bold World Cup PredictionsOne of my favorite quotes from "Game of Thrones" comes from the Imp, Tyrion Lannister, when he basically sums up the theme of the show in one sentence:<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/v7m5VcpMCtU" width="560"></iframe><br />
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It's powerful and simple, and makes the viewer realize that what we thought we knew about how the world worked in a good and just society hold no sway in this story.<br />
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Kind of like what you think you know about the World Cup holds no sway once the actual tournament starts. (How about that for a segue?)<br />
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The World Cup is, like many lives in Westeros, nasty, brutish, and short. Characters take their turn upon the stage for three or four games, only to be ruthlessly beaten down and eliminated by more powerful opposition (usually the Germans).<br />
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With that cheery image in your head, let's get into some ruthlessly bold World Cup predictions.<br />
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<b>(Editor's note: I had this post almost all written last night and it somehow got deleted. So this is going to be a severely shortened version. Take it up with Google if you have an issue.)</b><br />
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<b>1. Colombia won't make it out of their group.</b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www1.pictures.zimbio.com/fp/Radamel+Falcao+Garcia+Girlfriend+Share+Kiss+v5W6jRSg40Il.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www1.pictures.zimbio.com/fp/Radamel+Falcao+Garcia+Girlfriend+Share+Kiss+v5W6jRSg40Il.jpg" height="320" width="251" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ooh. Kill em.</td></tr>
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Two words: Radamel Falcao. Colombia's all-time leading scorer, and one of the best players in the world, won't make the trip to Brazil as he recovers from a knee injury. That's bad news, obviously. They have some other solid players, like the sillily named Jackson Martinez and Napoli's Camilo Zuniga. But Falcao was the talisman (just look at that body), and without him I predict they fold like a house of cards. Plus, I think Japan is sneaky good and the Ivory Coast will finally realize their potential as a group of ubertalented stars.<br />
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<b>2. The United States will not only escape their group, but will beat Belgium in the round of 16.</b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boo. Hoo.</td></tr>
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Two words: dark horse. That's what the US comes into this tournament as, and what people had been calling the Belgians until recently, when they just became a horse. The Yanks aren't even expected to make it out of the Group of Death, what with Germany (world #2) and Portugal (world #4) on the docket, as well as recent US-killer Ghana waiting in the wings.<br />
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But the US has won all three of its send-off matches, something that has never happened. And though they won ugly, they won. And winning builds confidence. And confidence builds more winning. It's like Fat Bastard's <a href="http://youtu.be/g5AixBKy7b4?t=27s">vicious cycle</a>, but positive (unless you really like eating). So here's what'll happen: the US will go down and thrash Ghana 3-1. Then we'll draw with Portugal 1-1, and probably lose to Germany 2-0. I'm not gonna sit here and figure out goal differential and other team's records, I'm just gonna assume that we get through. Then, on to Belgium.<br />
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Belgium has a stupidly easy group with Russia, South Korea, and Algeria. They'll go 3-0 and win that group, having not been tested. And then, suddenly, they're in the knockout rounds. Shark-infested waters. These Belgians have a fair bit of experience, but don't boast any obvious goal threats with Christian Benteke hurt and Romelu Lukaku possibly nursing an injury. Plus, they're already being touted as an outside contender for the title. That's called pressure - something the US will have exactly none of after escaping the Group of Death with their lives. And in a single-elimination game, I'll take the team with no pressure on them over the pressurized team all day err day.<br />
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<b>3. Bosnia-Herzegovina will beat France in the round of 16.</b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A face only an underage prostitute could love.</td></tr>
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The talk of the tournament on the eve of the tournament is the players who will not be playing in the tournament.<br />
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Wait. What?<br />
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I'm talkin' bout injuries. There's been a slew of big-time players going down with ouchies lately, so much so that <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/football/2014/jun/03/world-cup-2014-injured-xi-brazil-radamel-falcao">several </a><a href="http://metro.co.uk/2014/06/06/franck-ribery-joins-world-cup-injured-xi-after-being-ruled-out-of-brazil-4752818/">websites </a>have created their lists of best players to miss the World Cup due to being physically done for. One of the finest players to drop to the turf writhing in (actual) pain lately is that fellow up there - France's Franck Ribery, midfielder extraordinaire and World's Ugliest Man Lifetime Achievement Award winner.<br />
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So my prediction is that France win their group, Bosnia-Herzegovina gets second in theirs, and then the B-H boys beat the Frenchies.<br />
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Yes, France are stocked with talent (Giroud, Pogba, Evra, Benzema, etc.), but they're French. And French people fold. They folded HARD at the World Cup in 2010, then bowed out in the quarterfinals of the Euros to eventual champions Spain.<br />
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Granted, the Bosnians are no Spain, but they've got some motivation that the other teams don't - specifically, the fact that their country is barely 20 years old, and most of the players were displaced by the Bosnian war and grew up as part of the diaspora (SAT word). The country has not had a competitive football team in ever (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxx8SY72E_U">in ever</a>, Jerry), so this is kind of a "put the country on my back" deal for Edin Dzeko and the Bosnians. National pride means a lot in the World Cup. The French might still be stinging from the last two major tournaments, and the Bosnians will come in brimming with hope. (Plus they friggin <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2014_FIFA_World_Cup_qualification_%E2%80%93_UEFA_Group_G#Standings">dominated </a>their qualifying group.)<br />
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<b>4. Brazil will beat Argentina in the final, but Sergio Aguero will win the Golden Boot.</b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.dailystar-uk.co.uk/dynamic/58/photos/138000/620x/52138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://images.dailystar-uk.co.uk/dynamic/58/photos/138000/620x/52138.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom made pizza rolls?!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Call this a parlay prediction. Both outcomes are rather likely (Brazil are 3/1 to win it all and Aguero is 14/1 to finish top scorer), but put em together and what do you get?<br />
<br />
Bippity boppity boo?<br />
<br />
No. You get a bold fucking prediction.<br />
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Argentina have scored a lot of goals lately against bad teams like Trinidad and Tobago (3-0) and Slovenia (2-0), with exactly zero goals from Captain Happy McChuckles up there. Their goals have come from midfielders (and Messi, duh), but that's OK. Goals in the World Cup come from forwards (except if you're the USA) - just check out this <a href="http://images.dailystar-uk.co.uk/dynamic/58/photos/138000/620x/52138.jpg">list of Golden Boot winners.</a> You have to go back to 1974 and a West German named Grzegorz to find a dude who doesn't play forward winning that award. Rather strange, then, that the three players deemed more likely than Aguero to win this award are Lionel Messi (questionably a forward, often deployed on the wing), Neymar (questionably a forward, often deployed on the wing), and Cristiano Ronaldo (questionably a for-- yeah, you get it).<br />
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This will happen. Mark it down.<br />
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<b>5. The Diego Forlan award for rocketing into the US's collective national attention will go to Angel Di Maria.</b><br />
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Once upon a 2010, an attacker from a prominent La Liga team went into the World Cup with high expectations, excellent hair, and a light blue jersey. After an explosion of highlight reel goals, Uruguay's Diego Forlan was the talk of the nation. It didn't hurt that he resembled Adonis's better-looking younger brother.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.blogseitb.us/basqueboise/wp-content/uploads/sites/65/2011/05/Diego-Forlan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.blogseitb.us/basqueboise/wp-content/uploads/sites/65/2011/05/Diego-Forlan.jpg" height="320" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You want some of this milk?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After a scorching game in the Champions League final, Argentina winger Angel Di Maria is in great form. He'll rise to the challenge in Brazil, using his tricky feet and speed to get past outside defenders and either whip in crosses or take a few rips at goal. Plus, when the Argentines meet up with the USA in the quarterfinals, no one will be able to miss him with this righteous 'do:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://thepremierleagueowl.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/266800.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://thepremierleagueowl.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/266800.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(It looks like he's got an onion on his head)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A few goals, a few assists, a few embarrassed defenders, and you've got yourself a recipe for American stardom.<br />
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<br /></div>
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<b>6. BONUS PREDICTION: One team's hotel will be robbed. </b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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I mean, it is Brazil. Something has to go wrong.</div>
Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-35465712019755083252014-06-02T23:30:00.002-04:002014-06-03T09:51:33.077-04:00World Cup Preview: Group H Predictions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<i>And we've arrived. Barely a week before the tournament, this is the final group preview in the World Cup. If I get enough time, I may do a knockout preview, but we shall see. Read everything you need to know about every World Cup group <a href="http://robbievogel.blogspot.com/search/label/World%20Cup">here</a>.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<b>Group H: Belgium, Algeria, Russia, Korea Republic</b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://blog.paddypower.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/eden_hazard11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://blog.paddypower.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/eden_hazard11.jpg" height="216" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue Steel.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This is the group the USA could have had. Weep for the poor Americans. Weep, I say.<br />
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<b>Prediction: Belgium win group, Korea Republic second.</b></div>
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<b>Belgium.</b></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://blog.paddypower.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/eden_hazard11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://blog.paddypower.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/eden_hazard11.jpg" height="216" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This picture is too good to use just once.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Belgium are kind of an under the radar superteam. Along with Eden Zoolander Hazard up there, Belgium has EPL studs such as Romelu Luk(kakukuku)kaku from Everton, Vincent Kompany from Manchester City, and the oft-maligned but undeniably talented Marouane Fellaini from Manchester United. They're just really stacked overall and they should have no problem rampaging through this group. There really are two types of groups at this World Cup - the deathy ones and the non-deathy ones. This is as far from death as you can get.<br />
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<b>Korea Republic.</b></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://forzaitalianfootball.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/Heung-Min-Son-HSV-2011-2012-372x550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://forzaitalianfootball.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/Heung-Min-Son-HSV-2011-2012-372x550.jpg" height="320" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Sup?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Not sure when these guys started going by "Korea Republic" instead of the ever-popular and much more easily understood "South Korea", but regardless. I think they'll get themselves out of this group. Mainly because their manager has selected a group of players that make their living in the more competitive European leagues, such as Arsenal's Park Chu-young, Bolton's Lee Chung-yong, and Bayer Leverkusen star Song Heung-min (that guy up there). </div>
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<br /></div>
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The Koreans are a young team, with no player in their 30s. Youth usually equals fresh legs and strong lungs, two attributes that will be needed in abundance against the high-scoring Belgians and the pacey Algerians in muggy Brazil. That was a lot of adjectives. Regardless, look for Korea to sit back and play their possession game against Belgium, and perhaps press Algeria into a few mistakes at the back. The decisive game in this group will be Russia vs Korea on June 17.</div>
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<b>Russia.</b></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://media-beta.en.fc-zenit.ru/resources/1/5516/146461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://media-beta.en.fc-zenit.ru/resources/1/5516/146461.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey there.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Wait a minute. This isn't terribly model-esque. I think Eden can do better. Eden?<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://blog.paddypower.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/eden_hazard11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://blog.paddypower.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/eden_hazard11.jpg" height="216" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You got it, dude.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Thanks Eden.<br />
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<br /></div>
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Russia's problem in my eyes is that they just didn't take the right players. I don't care how out of form and favor some players are, the Russians are simply a worse team without Diniyar Bilyaletdinov and Roman Pavlyuchenko. They play against better competition than the squad that manager Fabio Capello has selected, which contains only players in Russia's domestic league. The camaraderie might be invaluable, but I'm not sure how far it will get the Russians. Plus, Russia = cold and Brazil = hot, and their three send-off games are against the weak nations of Slovakia (a 1-0 win), Norway (a 1-1 draw) and Morocco (playing on June 6). </div>
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<b>Algeria.</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/.a/6a00d8341c630a53ef0133f24bc709970b-800wi" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/.a/6a00d8341c630a53ef0133f24bc709970b-800wi" height="201" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">LOL</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Algeria has one of the coolest nicknames in the tournament: the "Desert Foxes". Unfortunately, they basically suck. They're sort of like Iran in that they're the best team from a terrible region. They barely snuck in after beating a country called Burkina Faso. They'll be lucky to draw a game.<br />
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Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-9741108065271669332014-05-19T14:11:00.003-04:002014-06-03T09:54:14.377-04:00World Cup Preview: Group G Predictions<i>Another scintillating World Cup preview. Check out the rest of the group previews <a href="http://robbievogel.blogspot.com/search/label/World%20Cup">here</a>.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<b>Group G: Germany, Portugal, United States, Ghana</b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://thesportsmole.files.wordpress.com/2010/06/us-soccer-fan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://thesportsmole.files.wordpress.com/2010/06/us-soccer-fan.jpg" height="320" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"We're Team USA, and we're <a href="http://youtu.be/ycqUYqiYbkc?t=16s">going all the way</a>."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This is the Group of Death. Let's see how the US can escape with their lives.<br />
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<b>Prediction: Germany win group, USA second.</b><br />
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>Germany.</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.newsrevealer.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/bastian_schweinsteiger33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.newsrevealer.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/bastian_schweinsteiger33.jpg" height="268" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"You've been a very bad boy."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Germany is clearly one of the favorites to win the tournament. It's not a question of whether they'll win this group, but more of how far they'll get once the knockout stages start. They're solid from front to back, with world-class players at every level of the pitch: Miroslav Klose up top (old, but still deadly for the national team), Mario Gotze, Mesut Ozil, Bastian Schweinsteiger, and Thomas Muller (to name a few) in the midfield, Phillip Lahm and Per Mertesacker anchoring the backline, and perhaps the world's best keeper in Manuel Neuer.<br />
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They'll be fine. Let's move on.<br />
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<b>United States.</b></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Sport/Pix/pictures/2010/6/23/1277309659442/landon-donovan-006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Sport/Pix/pictures/2010/6/23/1277309659442/landon-donovan-006.jpg" height="192" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"OHHHH IT'S INCREDIBLE"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm fully aware that my prediction of the US moving on is based less on analysis and more on deep-seated, red-blooded American homerism. Having said that, let's take a look at how the US can escape this group. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
As soon as the draw came out, everyone was moaning and complaining when we were drawn into Ghana's group, because they've knocked us out of the last two World Cups. Well fuck that. Where some see bad luck, I see motivation. Ghana is the weakest team in this group, and we play them first. Jurgen Klinsmann has stated the obvious in interviews: we NEED to beat Ghana in the first game. If we don't, we're screwed.<br />
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Fortunately, I think we have a good chance to pull it off. Our peak players are rounding into form at the right time, with Clint Dempsey scoring 8 goals through 9 games in the MLS and Chris Wondolowski netting 5. First-choice forward Jozy Altidore struggled through a tough season in English Premier League side Sunderland, but he always steps up his game for the national team. The US should go into this game with fire in their veins and revenge in their hearts, and I predict them emerging with a win.<br />
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And then, we play Portugal. The team that <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9vd-SQUaY_g">Men in Blazers</a> described as "Cristiano Ronaldo and 10 other guys." Yes, they're ranked 3rd in the world. Yes, they do have arguably the best player in the world. And yes, they have world-class players like Pepe, Joao Moutinho, and Nani supporting the number 7. But. Hear me out.<br />
<br />
First off, C-Ronny is <a href="http://www.sportsmole.co.uk/football/real-madrid/news/ronaldo-injured-in-warm-up_155548.html">kinda injured</a>. And as he goes, so goes the team. Secondly, Portugal play Germany first, and that game will be an absolute war. They'll both be vying for control of the group, and that game may determine who wins the group outright. That game is the 16th of June, and the USA-Portugal game is the 22nd. A short training period, a first-match hangover, and potentially a few niggling injuries could conspire to hamper the Portuguese. We can pull out a draw against them, or veeeeery possibly a famous victory.<br />
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Then, we just have to hang on against Germany and pray for the goal difference to go in our favor.<br />
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<b>Portugal. </b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.ronaldo7.net/news/archive/news71c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.ronaldo7.net/news/archive/news71c.jpg" height="204" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Coochie coochie"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Again, rampant homerism here, but for all the skill and speed that Portugal have, I don't see them getting out of this group. </div>
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Portugal's World Cup history is a mixed bag. They didn't qualify from 1934-1962, then burst onto the scene in England with a third place finish in 1966. Then they proceeded to not qualify from 1970-1982, didn't get out of their group in Mexico in 1986, and didn't qualify again until 2002, when they bowed out of their group in Korea after a loss to the mighty United States. Recently they've been a bit better, with a fourth place finish in Germany in 2006 and a Round of 16 exit in 2010. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I'm thinking geography plays a part with this nation - all their good results have come in Europe (England, Germany), while less than stellar finishes (group stage in Mexico and Korea, round of 16 in South Africa) have come when they travel abroad. Brazil does not bode well for them, despite the familiar language. </div>
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I also feel that Portugal will be hampered, as they usually are, by the lack of a true striker. Or more specifically, the confusion resulting from the best way to use their best player, Cristiano Ronaldo. If I were the manager, I'd just put him up front and let him wreak havoc on defenders, with two wingers to whip crosses in to him. This is the case some of the time, but for whatever reason Ronaldo feels more comfortable out on the wings, where he can cut inside to hit shots or play 1-2s to get the ball in space attacking from the flanks. If I'm playing against Portugal, the further away from goal he is, the better. </div>
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<br /></div>
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He's their leading scorer and the main reason they're in the World Cup at all, all of which means that teams will be keying on him hard. If Portugal can't get goals from other places on the field, they might be in trouble. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Ghana. </b></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/y_NRq7o2HQs/hqdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/y_NRq7o2HQs/hqdefault.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fuck this moment.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There is no question that this is the Group of Death. In almost any other group, Ghana would be a serious contender to go through. Aging but still tremendously skilled players like Michael Essien, Sulley Muntari, and Kevin-Prince Boateng anchor the Black Stars, and scourge of the US Asamoah Gyan is a threat in front of goal.<br />
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They've also played some meaningful games lately. They took on all comers and nearly conquered Africa, coming up just short in the African Nations Cup final, where they lost on penalties to Libya. They have tune up matches against Montenegro, the Netherlands, and South Korea before their first group stage match with the US, which will test the limits of their skill. </div>
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If the tenet "Know thine enemy" has any truth to it, then the US should be well prepared to face these Ghanaians. The Yanks have gone out to Ghana in both of the last two World Cups, and this is quickly turning into one of the most unlikely rivalries in world football (at least from a geography perspective). </div>
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<br /></div>
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I'm not sure if Ghana can keep their nerve in this group if they lose to the United States in the first match. My prediction for them involves a loss to the US, followed by an utter collapse as their World Cup dreams drift away.</div>
Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-72852495796882481402014-05-15T14:41:00.000-04:002014-05-15T14:43:28.951-04:00World Cup Preview: Group F Predictions<i>The Cup is less than a month away. These previews will be coming fast and furious. Check out my other wild speculations <a href="http://robbievogel.blogspot.com/search/label/World%20Cup">here</a>.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<b>Group F: Argentina, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Iran, Nigeria</b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Football/Pix/pictures/2012/6/7/1339079606580/Lionel-Messi-Argentina-004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Football/Pix/pictures/2012/6/7/1339079606580/Lionel-Messi-Argentina-004.jpg" height="192" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The flow!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Prediction: Argentina win group, Nigeria second.</b><br />
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<b>Argentina.</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://latinlinks.nl/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/Soccer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://latinlinks.nl/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/Soccer.jpg" height="204" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have so many questions.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This won't be a surprise to anyone: Argentina is good. Like, best-team-in-the-world good. They have arguably the greatest player in the world in Lionel Messi, and a host of other players who actually play better than him when playing for the national team. Names like Gonzalo Higuain, Sergio Aguero, and Ezequiel Lavezzi jump out at even the most casual soccer fan, and their midfield and back line are anchored by veterans including Javier Mascherano, Fernando Gago, and Pablo Zabaleta.<br />
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Honestly, they're just stupendously talented. Add in the fact that they're in South America and they're in a very weak group, and you can seriously start to talk about their championship aspirations. </div>
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<b>Nigeria.</b></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://e1.365dm.com/13/08/768x432/Peter-Odemwingie-i_2993705.jpg?20140210075342" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://e1.365dm.com/13/08/768x432/Peter-Odemwingie-i_2993705.jpg?20140210075342" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cool story, bro!</td></tr>
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<div>
Now we've come to the unpopular opinion. Nigeria, the 45th-ranked team in the world, will escape this group over the combined powers of both Bosnia AND Herzegovina, who are ranked 25th. It seems very unfair that B+H get to draw from two countries, but I digress. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Nigeria, to put it bluntly, has got this. First off, they open up against Iran. Iran is a horrible soccer team. Nigeria will win 3-0. They'll get some momentum going, and then roll into the clash with B+H with a full head of steam. B+H will be coming off a royal pounding at the hands of the Argentinians, who will come out for their first World Cup match with fire in their eyes and lava in their hearts, or whatever the saying is.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Nigeria's momentum will help them in this match, but it won't carry them through to the win. What will? Oh, I don't know, how about talent and recent big-game experience?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This Nigerian team has some serious skill. Peter Odemwingie, despite his flitting around the bottomer-regions of the EPL, is still a talented goalscorer (though he does have trouble putting them away in international competition). John Obi Mikel Obi Mikel (or whatever he's calling himself these days) has been a stalwart at Chelsea since like the JFK assassination, and he's still only 27 somehow. After the final game of the group stage, defender Joseph Yobo will have collected 100 caps for Nigeria, taking him further into the lead for most-capped player in the nation's history. Captain and keeper Vincent Enyeama is the first-choice tendy for French Ligue 1 side Lille, and came within 114 minutes of setting a record for most minutes without conceding a goal earlier this year. So yeah, they're pretty good. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Furthermore, the Nigerians have played some legitimately important matches recently. They came in third in the African Nations Championship, which just ended in February. They beat host nation South Africa 3-1, stormed back from 3-0 down to grab an extra-time 4-3 victory over Morocco, and only lost to runners-up Ghana on penalties. Meanwhile, B+H have been prancing around places like St. Louis and Austria, playing teams like Egypt and Lithuania. They do tune up against the Ivory Coast and Mexico in the coming weeks, but still, I'm not convinced that they're ready to play under pressure.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Bosnia and Herzegovina. </b></div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://content.mcfc.co.uk/~/media/Images/Home/News/Team%20News/2013-2014%20season/June/Ed%20Dzeko%20holding.ashx?h=450&w=800" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://content.mcfc.co.uk/~/media/Images/Home/News/Team%20News/2013-2014%20season/June/Ed%20Dzeko%20holding.ashx?h=450&w=800" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Are you not entertained?"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So I'm not really sure if this whole Bosnia AND Herzegovina thing is one country, two countries squashed together, two countries that used to be one country and are now two but just say they're still together so their friends don't think anything's wrong, or whatever. I'm calling them B+H.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Also, I just don't think they're that good. For God's sake, <a href="http://www.mlssoccer.com/matchcenter/2013-08-14-BIH-v-USA/recap">WE beat them</a>. And we kinda suck. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
They do have that man up there, Edin Dzeko, who plays for EPL champions Manchester City. He's pretty good. He scored 16 goals for Man City in 31 games. Not shabby. However, they really don't have any other players of note. They have another forward who plays for Stuttgart, Vedad Ibisevic, who has 20 goals in his 53 national team appearances. So I guess he's OK too. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
However, I just see this as a strange World Cup. Brazil is a weird place, and European teams tend to falter on South American soil. I think in any sort of Europe vs. non-Europe clash, the crowd will back the non-European team out of some kind of underdog, us-against-the-old-guard mentality. As mentioned earlier, B+H haven't played in any sort of cauldron lately, and they won't before next month. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Iran. </b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cps-static.rovicorp.com/3/JPG_400/MI0001/327/MI0001327874.jpg?partner=allrovi.com" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://cps-static.rovicorp.com/3/JPG_400/MI0001/327/MI0001327874.jpg?partner=allrovi.com" height="217" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iIpfWORQWhU">I ran so far away</a>"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Sidenote: I just realized I put a song link in the caption for my last-place team in the <a href="http://robbievogel.blogspot.com/2014/05/world-cup-preview-group-e-predictions.html">previous post</a> too. Since twice is a trend, I guess I'm doing this from now on.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anyway, not much to say here. Iran is freaking awful. It's a testament to how colossally screwed up the FIFA rankings are that this team is 37th. They'll be lucky to scratch out a draw in this group.</div>
Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-14469747405270309612014-05-07T18:01:00.000-04:002016-02-05T10:10:23.381-05:00New Short Story: The Price of a Debt<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">
Hola. I wrote a story. It took me a while, so I hope it's good. Check it out. </div>
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<a name='more'></a><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.15; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Price of a Debt</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img height="640" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/PNjwqivBeavjhZ1OcNTBGGN94_fZXMc7c7UCcQpxwIPW37fgrZnhgz3iHshSUsAfOTEB2JojxSqdNF0UGWmxGrzfmSQv7pOThM5JAgFFQaT6F8kDY_RIJ5KrnScVti-i4w" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0rad); border: none;" width="542" /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<a href="http://www.bostonbysail.com/images/BHIMAP_jp35.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Source</span></a></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-66d156d7-d89e-838a-c41f-c1b0b96a5ef5" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">October 7, 2013</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2:10 PM</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">42°17'35.9"N 71°01'17.7"W</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Quincy, MA</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dunkin’ Donuts isn’t the worst place for lunch</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, thought Billy as he made his way slowly up East Squantum Street. Dunkin’ had supplied Billy with his 4:30 AM breakfast every spring, summer, and fall for the past 33 years - he supposed he could trust it in the daylight hours too. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But he’d be damned if he got that tuna sandwich - no telling how long that shit’s been frozen solid. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As Billy ambled up the right side of the street, his back to the last neighborhood between North America and the North Atlantic, his iPhone buzzed. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Probably a text from Marcus</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, he thought. He’d wanted to watch the playoff game tonight. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It buzzed again. Then continued buzzing. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy rummaged through his jeans and pulled it out, expecting to see on the screen the nickname of one of the forty or so buzzards (his word) circling what remained of Jerome McMannigan’s earthly possessions. Maybe it would be Shit Ass Joe, from the Rockland Trust. Or maybe Squeaky Pete, who worked in “customer relations” (Billy supposed harrassment and stalking were forms of “relations”) at Tuttle, Jones, and Dougherty - his dad’s divorce lawyers. Or Hell, if his name was up next, it could just be Hired Gun Number 1 thru 15 who worked for any of the illegal outfits to which his dad’s estate still owed some coin.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He checked the phone. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Pat’s” read the display. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy’s face brightened considerably. He slid the phone’s lock screen to answer.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> “Nancy! How the fuck did you know I needed a beer?” </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You’re a fisherman, Bill, if you didn’t need one I’d be concerned.” </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deadpan. Unusual for Nancy Turner, proprietor of Pat’s Nautical Bar in Hull, Massachusetts.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Good point,” Billy replied. “What’s up? You givin’ out free shots tonight?” </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No, Bill,” she said in a low voice. “Listen.” </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy stopped walking, low, marshy ground stretching out on either side of the road as he listened. Early fall had been unusually mild, and Billy hadn’t even bothered to wear a jacket. As he stood in his shirtsleeves, alone on a ribbon of pavement connecting Squantum and Quincy Shore Drive, he listened to Nancy, and his pulse began to quicken with a mixture of fear, excitement, and something like redemption. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Fuck, Nance. Are you positive?” </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“As an AIDS patient.” Nancy’s response to fear was bad jokes. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Jesus Christ. I don’t do shit like this.” Billy said, suddenly very aware of his surroundings and simultaneously thankful for the isolation, but wary of looking suspicious. He began to walk slowly towards the Dunkin’ Donuts a quarter mile away. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Billy, listen. This is your chance. Haven’t you always told me how deep in the hole your father left you?” </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She pronounced it “ya fathah,” and Billy had an old memory of a childhood church service sitting next to his cousin from Hyde Park - “Ahwah fathah. Whoaht’n heaven,” and so on. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“This is it, Bilbo. Who gives a shit if you’re never done it? Duck has. And these guys are lazy - they literally planned the whole thing out with me 15 feet away.” </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy’s insides clenched, and he stopped again. Maybe this </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">was</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> it. God knew he needed a lot of money from somewhere, and the lottery wasn’t cooperating. He really hadn’t had a plan to this point, besides to avoid everyone long enough to pull in one more haul. He supposed then he’d have to pick up and start a new life in some backwoods place like Santa Fe or Portland. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But if this was true, he could get it all back “with one swing of the bat,” as the Red Sox radio announcers always said. And though it wasn’t tangible, the other benefit if he pulled this off might offset, in some small way, the knot of pain that he carried around each day like a tumor deep in his memory.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Nancy, I owe you a beer or two,” Billy said, resuming his walk to Dunkin’ with a pronounced increase in speed.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“More than that, to be sure,” she replied. “Good luck, kid.” </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">October 7</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1:19 PM</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">42°18'16.2"N 70°54'58.7"W</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hull, MA</span></div>
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<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">An hour before Billy McMannigan received that telephone call, a small, bald, pockmarked man sat in an overstuffed armchair in a basement. This man’s name was Kevin Haley, but everyone called him Hales. In this case, the “everyone” in question mainly consisted of truckers, deliverymen, ships’ captains, and high-level distributors. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hales was a drug dealer. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He had not intended to become one, not exactly, but he wasn’t complaining. He didn’t live an expensive lifestyle, and if he hadn’t had a taste for hookers and authentic Chinese food, he would have hardly felt the need to leave his house on K street, less than half a mile away. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hales didn’t live in the house above this basement, but it sometimes felt that way. As it happens, the basement was also a bar. It was called Pat’s, and it had been opened in 1952 by a man (named Jack) and his wife (named Pat). Situated feet from the vicious chop of Hull Gut, where Boston Harbor and Hingham Bay met and funneled through a 100 yard-wide channel between the mainland and Paddock’s Island, Pat’s sat at the end of the long, twisting main road that serves as the backbone of the peninsula town of Hull. It was of the few original Boston-area fishing bars yet to be corrupted by yuppies. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hales felt safe here. There were many reasons for this feeling, chief among them familiarity. He had grown up in the town of Hull once, very long ago, when the rest of the world beyond that bleak, windswept little spear of land seemed close enough to touch. He had played HORSE on the basketball court near the police station, and had watched his hometown beach swell with fat city slobs during the baking summers. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He had snuck into the Red Parrot and the C-Note, bars down on The Strip across the street from the beach, in high school, drunk on bravado and cheap whiskey, and too flush with victory to notice the bouncers weren’t fooled. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And of course, he had lived half his life at Paragon Park, Hull’s answer to the Jersey Shore and the Santa Monica Pier. After more than three decades spent traveling the country and the world, he could still remember the smell of Paragon on an August night. The warm, sweet fried dough mixing with the cool, salty air, and tinged with a hint of everything else you’d expect at a carnival: motor oil, sweat, alcohol, and youth, in its many forms. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was cool inside Pat’s as Hales reminisced. He wondered how a town half a mile wide, one that protruded so impudently into Boston Harbor as to be connected to the mainland by only two bridges and a forty-foot strip of roadway, could hold so many memories and create so many distinct personalities. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Because the man entering Pat’s now, though he had caught two of Kevin Haley’s no-hitters for the Hull High Pirates baseball team in the 1970s, had turned out very, very differently from Hales. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hales thought as Stephen (Steeps) McIntyre sat down in the facing armchair, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">we still have one thing in common.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">McIntyre was a businessman. At this point in his life, he had achieved everything he could reasonably have expected. In his mid-fifties, Steeps had a four-bedroom house in the tony Boston suburb of Hingham and a rental home in the ski resort town of Killington, Vermont. He drove a black Range Rover Evoque, owned a 40-foot powder blue sloop called </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Angela </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(after his first daughter), and belonged to the extremely exclusive Boston Golf Club. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As McIntyre called for a Sam Adams, Hales looked over his old batterymate. The hair gone to grey in his mid-thirties, a result of his dizzying climb up the corporate ladder. The face, always a bit round, now could be described as jowly, with purple half-moons beneath the eyes. The body, barrel-chested in his playing days at Hull and Endicott College, now slumping slowly into late middle age. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hales knew Steeps still found time to work out every day, and had run a few marathons recently. Hales wondered if anyone in McIntyre’s family was getting suspicious of his weight gain. Going sleepless for three or four nights a week can do that to a person. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">October 15,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">4:55 PM</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">42°51'40.9"N 70°49'02.9"W</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Salisbury, MA</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When Billy McMannigan was young, he liked to close his eyes and walk down the stairs. The main staircase in his old, rambling house was itself old and rambling, and both contained switchbacks and abrupt endpoints - sudden changes in direction and slope that left many visitors confused and nursing turned ankles. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A million memories swirled like drying laundry around Billy’s grizzled head as he contemplated the old place. It was a sprawling, decayed thing, an old seacaptain’s mansion seated on a rolling green hill above the bluffs and the crashing North Atlantic. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aside from a general feeling of melancholy and longing, Billy remembered those stairs. He would race his brothers down them for the first Christmas present, and as he grew older, he would creep up the risers, keeping to the inside where the bare wood met the wall and mitigated the squeaks, long past midnight while his parents lay dead to the world. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Of all the hundreds and thousands of trips up and down those switchback stairs that Billy took in his life - whether to a cold breakfast and the bleak New England day or a drafty room and the long New England night - his favorite trips were when he descended with his eyes closed. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He loved the feeling that everyone else dreads: that of missing a stair, of expecting one to be there when in fact you’ve got one more to go, your arms starting to pinwheel uselessly into empty space as your mind conjures up the mere </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">suggestion </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">of an endless fall into the abyss, because before the thought can be formed you land, a bit crouched, on a foot that’s supporting more weight than it had bargained on.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy didn’t know what drugs were at the age of 5, but when he walked down the stairs with his eyes closed (“and no railings!”) on a dare from his older brother Tom, the rushes he felt when his foot missed a step were some of the earliest and purest highs he ever experienced.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It should come as no surprise, then, that Billy was drawn to the rocking, ever-shifting motion of a boat on the sea. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now, Billy stood with his back to the pounding surf, less than a mile south of the New Hampshire - Massachusetts border. He regarded his childhood home through deepset grey eyes, dark slivers of shale nearly closed from years of salt and wind.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The bank had finally made the sale, which was good. No more moneygrubbers waiting to catch him at the docks in Gloucester or New Bedford - the lawyer had said the land went for just north of $3 million. Of course, with his father dying almost five million in the red to seemingly every bookie, cardsharp, captain, and pool hustler in the Northeast, not to mention a number of banks and lawyers of varying repute, the land sale was a drop in the bucket. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bonk. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bonk. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy turned, but did not offer to help. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let the suit rough up his hands for once, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">he thought as he watched his lawyer Jesse Drake free the “FOR SALE - BANK OWNED” sign from the ground just inside the low, whitewashed fence surrounding the property. He owed the fucker God knows how much - probably another season’s haul. Let him pull the damn sign up. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bonk.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy started for his car, intending to head for the bar and, as Lehane put it, a drink before the war. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy stopped. He supposed that was a bit melodramatic. It wasn’t war. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bonk.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But it certainly wasn’t peace. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">October 18</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">3:54 PM</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">42°18'16.2"N 70°54'58.7"W</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hull, MA</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Pat’s was empty, as it usually was on a weekday afternoon. Dust motes swam in the golden shafts of light falling through the ground-level windows. The multicolored liquor bottles sat in tiered rows like schoolchildren in some long-forgotten class photo.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The bar ran along the right side of the room, starting just inside the doorway and extending nearly the whole length of the basement, until it terminated in time to leave room for a darts setup and a doorway out and up to the back patio. Behind the left side of the bar, down near the dartboard, was the kitchen, such that it was. Pat’s didn’t serve food, but kept all the things that one might need in a bar’s kitchen: citrus, cherries, olives, celery, and lots and lots of ice. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The ice was kept in the walk-in freezer, which wasn’t usually more than half full, a leftover from when the bar did a brisk breakfast business. Today, however, the freezer contained much more than usual. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The bags of ice had been shunted to the side of the freezer, along with some ancient ingredients for a clam chowder. Spread out in the middle of the freezer’s floor, stacked in 12-inch by 8-inch bricks, sat 200 pounds of ultra-pure white heroin. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are tunnels under Boston Harbor. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yes, many know the famous Ted Williams Tunnel, opened in 2003 to connect Boston’s Logan Airport to the rest of the city via that great transcontinental highway, Interstate 90. A little further northwest, you can find the parallel tunnels of Callahan and Sumner, serving essentially the same purpose by shuttling travelers to Logan’s out-of-the-way location. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">However, those are not the only tunnels under Boston Harbor. Not by a long shot. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">October 18 </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">6:23 PM</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">42°22'06.6"N 70°51'14.8"W</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Atlantic Ocean, roughly 5 miles NE of Hull, MA </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“CLEAN IT UP F’Fucks’sake!” Billy roared in a not entirely disagreeable tone. He took a measure of comfort knowing that he was the only man on deck able to stand the roiling seas without retching. The bounces and shocks that turned his crew’s stomach gave him a strange feeling of excitement, but it was still his boat, and someone else’s vomit. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The crew of the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Morning Knife</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> was a hardy one, not generally prone to bouts of sickness. But this was a killer squall, and it had come out of almost nowhere, whipping itself into a frenzy and blotting out the swiftly sinking sun. The boat</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">bucked and rolled, all 35 sleek feet of it rising and falling with the swell, which in Billy’s estimation was around 10 feet.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Early that morning Billy and crew had slipped, under cover of darkness, from the river mooring where the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Knife</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> was tied up. The boat was unregistered, more out of convenience than stealth. Between the application, bill of sale, proof of sales tax payment, and all the other crap you had to do to get a boat registered in the damn Commonwealth, it seemed easier to just keep this one on the sly. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“MILLER! Over the side with it!” He yelled through the swirling rain. “Or </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">you’ll </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">go over toes to turnips!” One of his father’s favorite phrases. It must have made sense growing up on a farm in southern Indiana, but it sounded like a foreigner every time it fell out in a Boston fishing bar. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miller obediently craned his neck over the side and hurled another throatful of bile into the raging sea. Billy silently thanked his father for one of his many life lessons - “Whether it’s fishing or finance, no drinking on the job.” The bottle of rum shared among Miller, Murphy, and Lancaster less than an hour ago wasn’t helping their situation any.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">October 18</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">8:20 PM</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">42°18'16.2"N 70°54'58.7"W</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hull, MA</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“CLOSED FOR A PRIVATE FUNCTION” read the hand-scrawled piece of paper taped to the front door of Pat’s Nautical Bar. Several patrons expecting another night of cheap Bud Light and stale conversation had arrived, seen the note, and shuffled back to their salt-speckled vehicles, no emotions visible on their faces. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the half-lit gloom of the bar, the four men hired by Steeps McIntyre grumbled, grunted, and shuffled the heroin out of the freezer and into large rolling suitcases. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was go time. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Steeps watched from an armchair near the bar, his hands resting lightly over a semiautomatic pistol on his lap, the safety firmly on (he was still slightly terrified of guns). </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“How we gonna move all this shit with only these suitcases?” complained one of the hired muscle. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dirk</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, Steeps thought. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">His name is Dirk. Must be kind to the help.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, Dirk, the quicker you guys load, the quicker you’ll be done,” Steeps said brightly. He saw no reason to point out that Dirk’s actual question was accidentally rhetorical. He briefly considered the business merits of a company that specialized in intelligent muscle men for jobs like this, then realized with a smile that those people most likely didn’t exist. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Just don’t think about the work, and it’ll be over in a jiff.” And soon enough, it was. The heroin neatly loaded into sixteen full-size suitcases, Steeps went behind the bar and gently lifted off a large framed portrait of a nearly naked mermaid, revealing a metal doorway with a recessed handle. He leaned the picture against the wall next to him, opened the door which extended from roughly shin to shoulder, flipped on his flashlight, and carried a Coleman lantern through the door, down the ladder, and into the gloom of a cement-walled tunnel. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As he sat waiting for the muscle to get the suitcases down into the tunnel, Steeps had one of those things that he had been having more and more of lately. He supposed they would be called “life evaluations.” Here he was, a wealthy, middle-aged man with a great family, nice house, and pretty much everything he could ask for. So why the hell was he the point man on what Hales had dubbed “the largest drug deal in Boston history”? He flashed a wry smile as the old tv commercial came back to him, not for the first time: “How do I do it? I’m in debt up to my eyeballs.” </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That was about the size of it. Steeps was a proud man, and when his stock portfolios had plummeted, he’d refused to give up his membership to the golf club or to sell his house in Killington. In fact, rather than tighten his belt, he’d sent his daughter on a gap year in Australia and bought the Range Rover to boot. Even adding up all of these expenses, however, shouldn’t have seen him nearly 15 million in the red. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Blackmail, however. That will put you in the hole, and fast. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ashley had secretly recorded many of their meetings. He supposed he wasn’t surprised - she had never loved him, of that he was sure. But he was naive enough to think that she would keep things simple - a few thousand in cash for a few hours of absolute, spine-tingling pleasure. That had gone on for too long - at least 10 years, if McIntyre’s memory served. And what did he get for trying to be the better person, for cutting off this source of infidelity? A $15 million ultimatum. Apparently Ashley had her eye on a beachside bungalow in St. Barths. Of course she did.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The curved walls dripped condensation onto the floor of the tunnel, which was slowly filling up with suitcases full of heroin. With every passing moment, Steeps’s heart rate rose. This wasn’t his life - he didn’t hold guns in tunnels during heroin deals. He didn’t hire thugs and command drug operations - he sat in offices and made shrewd business decisions. He knew that this wasn’t the place or the time for regret, though, and Steeps hadn’t pulled himself up the corporate ladder by feeling sorry for himself. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sooner than Steeps would have liked, the five men stood on the floor of the tunnel, the portal back into the bar a dim rectangle in the gloom above them. The suitcases lay spread around them - it would take two round trips - an hour each way - to roll the cases to the island. They had gone over the exceedingly simple plan several times, so there was no need to talk. Steeps led the way, lantern in one hand and flashlight in the other, down the echoing tunnel and out underneath the swirling currents of the harbor.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">October 18, 2013. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">11:00 PM</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">42°20'33.8"N 70°52'07.6"W</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Atlantic Ocean, roughly 3 miles NE of Hull, MA</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Kill ‘em.” </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ducky Lancaster, who had been poised next to the “All lights” switch, killed them. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The squall had mercifully ended about an hour ago, giving Miller enough time to clean up his vomit. The night was clear and cloudless, the stars the only source of illumination as a sliver of moon hung above the city. Billy thought the storm might have been a blessing in disguise, as it chased the alcohol out through his crew’s sweating, shivering pores. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Knife </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">bobbed, invisible against the cold black chop. A mile south, off the northwestern coast of Great Brewster Island in outer Boston Harbor, a 500-foot barge and tug rig lay dark, a midnight silhouette outlined against the light pollution of Quincy a few miles distant. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy peered through the telescope, one eye screwed up against the wind. He truly looked like a pirate, even though he felt more like a tax collector. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Right on schedule,” he muttered. “Ducky, tell the guys to suit up. We’ll skirt Outer and Middle, blow through the channel, and hit them at 12:30.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If Billy’s information was correct, and he had no reason to think that it wouldn’t be, it would take a hell of a long time to load up that barge. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Don’tcha mean oh-oh-thirty, cap?” chided Ducky Lancaster.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The kid was barely more than a teenager, fresh from a 14-month stint in Afghanistan. He had some sort of wiry light brown growth on his jaw that he described as a beard, and he lived for this sort of thing. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wild-eyed and wild-haired, Cornelius “Ducky” Lancaster had lived about half his waking life in the water, hence his nickname. As his given name might suggest, he was from a family rippling with old East Coast money. Ducky had spent a year at Yale, majoring in swim team with a minor in coed studies, before his terrace-gardened house off campus was raided in one of the many heroin busts in the greater New Haven area. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, like any caring and supportive father, John Lancaster IV had sent his son off to the army. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Looking at the boy now, Billy McMannigan had to say that it had probably worked. Ducky was a solid addition to the team. He had cut out the drugs, he took orders decently well, he was sharp enough to pick up some basic fishing principles, and (Billy thought enviously) his back muscles were long, strong, and had never given him so much as a passing twinge. Billy liked to think of Ducky as the son that he never had. Or, more precisely, the son he wished he’d had.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You got it, Duck. Oh-oh thirty it is.” Billy collapsed the telescope and stowed it behind the steering column. “Now hit it. I’ve never raided anything before, so I want you on point.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ducky’s eyes shone with a feverish pleasure. The prospect of a raid was fun. The actual thing was something else. Billy suspected it might be something primal for the young sailor - something almost sexual.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He watched the youth bound down the two steps to the main deck, then dropped the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Knife</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> into drive and began his slow approach to the barge in the distance.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> __</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The “toes to turnips” line had been Jerome McMannigan’s most famous saying, but it was by no means his only one. The man was known in every fishing bar on the North Shore for his platitudes, maxims, and life lessons. It seemed that, as the years of gentle alcohol abuse wormed their way deeper into him, that he could scarcely hold a conversation without falling back on his well-worn cliches. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy’s eyes crinkled into a smile. He remembered his father holding court as last call loomed, dressing his tired fishing stories in ever finer wisps of danger and intrigue. He had been old then, old enough to share a beer with his son. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As a child, Billy had been faintly terrified of his father. On weekends, when Jerome had returned home roaring drunk, long past midnight, to the now-sold house on the bluffs, he had not simply gone to sleep. Billy recognized these late-night horror films now for what they were: not punishment, but a misguided attempt by Jerome to communicate with his son. With an untold amount of alcohol coursing through him, often Billy’s father wouldn’t form coherent thoughts, but the cliches were always there. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The bedroom door would burst open those weekend nights, Jerome’s solid body framed by the hallway light as he made his unsteady way to the bed and dropped into the armchair where, when sober, he would read Billy stories of pirates and treasure. Billy would cower in the corner of his bed, listening to the ramblings of a stranger who had inhabited his father until one of them, usually Jerome, fell into a fitful sleep.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But aside from the strange feeling of dread that Billy recalled from these nights,he remembered a few of his father’s sayings as well: “A man gets what he earns, and no more” was a classic. And on that oldest human art, the art of bullshitting, Jerome posited that “Everybody knows two sentences about everything. Know three, you’re the smartest guy in the room.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">These instances became less frequent as Billy grew older, and before he knew it, he was tagging along to the bars with his father on Friday nights. Jerome always drove there, emphasizing the importance of meeting the types of people he hung around with, so that Billy would be sure to stay away from them when he grew up. Another grin flitted across Billy’s weathered face as he remembered one night: his father balancing on the low rungs of two barstools, his hand braced against Billy’s shoulder, leading the shining-eyed patrons in a rousing version of “Drunken Sailor.” On the last line, Jerome had brought the song to a halt. After belting out “And what do you DO with a DRUNKEN SAILOR?” he calmly and coherently said “Let him drink.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Billy supposed it was no wonder he hadn’t turned out to be a great father. Still, he always thought he’d have done better than oh for two. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">October 18</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">11:15 PM</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">42°20'08.0"N 70°53'42.9"W</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Just off the NW coast of Great Brewster Island</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are more than a dozen recognized islands between the city of Boston and the Atlantic Ocean proper. Along with the Brewsters (Great, Little, Outer, and Middle), sit the Graves, Green Island, and Shag Rock Island. These seven form a sort of protective barrier for the inner islands and the city itself.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The nose of the Canadian tug rig </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jocelyn II </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">was firmly attached to the rear of its much larger counterpart, the barge </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mary’s Tears</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Both tug and barge lay anchored with all lights extinguished. Looking from the north, it was nearly impossible to spot the hulking mass of metal unless you knew where to look, as it painted a pitch-black outline against the faintly lighter charcoal of the island.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The squall had tested the strength of the anchor chains, and the five-man barge crew had nearly become four as they loosed an auxiliary anchor over the port bow. Terrance Gordon, an inexperienced engineer and electrician, had skipped out of the way as the heavy chain went rippling down into the depths. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The silence lay around the barge heavier for the earlier storm. The sea, which had thrown its best punches against the high walls of the barge and been defeated, now lapped apologetically at the waterline. Three of the crew napped in the tug’s quarters, one stood forward contemplating the lights of the city’s Seaport district away to the northwest, and the final man sat in a folding chair, looking at Great Brewster through a pair of field glasses. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The island was dark - the hilly spine of the land obscured the flashes from Boston Light on Little Brewster, about a half mile away to the south. Captain Carlo Ambrogio peered through the binoculars as his bony elbows rested on the iron railing of the barge. It was an unseasonably warm night - the cement deck gave off a faint steam as the puddles from the squall slowly dissipated. Carlo spit and scanned the shore of the island.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He knew what to look for, and he didn’t have to wait long to see it. In the blackness of the hillside about a thousand feet from the shoreline, a rectangle of dancing flashlight beams suddenly appeared. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Timmy,” Ambrogio said. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Cap?” said Timmy Doyle, striding from his post to the captain’s side. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Wake everyone up. Let’s get this shit on quickly and get moving.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Aye aye, cap’n,” Timmy said brightly. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carlo snorted. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He’s just a child playing games, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">thought the greying captain. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">God help us if we’re made.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">October 18</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">11:40 PM</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">42°20'38.7"N 70°52'28.0"W</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Just off the NE coast of Outer Brewster Island</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Morning Knife</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> puttered slowly along. Outer Brewster’s mass obscured the outline of the barge and tug. Ducky Lancaster, Brendan Miller, and Seamus Murphy stood ready at their positions: Ducky at the prow, Miller halfway between the wheelhouse and the prow on the port side, and Murphy at the port stern. Billy’s plan was to skirt Middle Brewster as long as possible, then cover the final third of a mile to the barge’s side at top speed, hopefully catching the crew in the middle of loading up.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy had navigated these islands hundreds of times, and despite the delicacy of this particular voyage, he still found himself on autopilot, his mind turned (as it was quite often) to his past, and the circumstances that had brought him to this point in life.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy had been married once. That hadn’t been a great idea for either party, but there didn’t seem to be any choice. Steph Johnson was 19, unemployed, and pregnant. Billy was 20, a fisherman, and Irish. Both were Catholic. There was no question about keeping the baby, and very little choice in the marriage. Somehow, it almost seemed like a point of pride. Growing up in a fishing town, you want to prove your manhood. Bar fights sometimes work, if you win. High school athletic accomplishments do the trick, provided it’s not soccer. But one of the truest measures of a fisherman is having a fisherman’s wife to call your own. Steph wasn’t salty; hell, she barely drank. But she was his woman, and he his boys could swim, and dammit, even if he hadn’t envisioned his life playing out like this, he was going to embrace it. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The island slipped past the port of the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Knife</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. The water kicked gently against the hull. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Twelve minutes to midnight</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, Billy thought.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At least, that was what he had thought then. It was so easy to see, now, after 33 years, how foolish he had been. Of course he wasn’t going to be able to support a family. His mother was dead and his father was on his way down with a bottle in his hand. Steph’s father was dead and her mom was long gone; last she heard of her was a postcard from San Diego telling her that it was always warm and the fishermen shaved… and not just their faces. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The wind ruffled Billy’s dark hair. In the distance, above Calf Island to the west, he could see Boston’s yellow glow. Above the city, inaudible for the distance, the Old South Church bell chimed twelve times.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So they had lived together for a year or so, then the divorce papers went through and Billy lost half of his nearly nonexistent worldly possessions. He packed up and moved to the Cape for a few years, living in the back of a boatyard and doing whatever jobs the owner might have for him. He never reconnected with Steph or Brian, his son, but figured that was for the best. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And so, oh for one. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Knife </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">slipped out of a small bay on Middle Brewster’s north coast and headed into the final stretch of its covered approach. After making a final turn south, around the western tip of the island, there would be nothing but 2,000 feet of black, glassy sea between the raiding party and the barge. Quarter past midnight came and went. Billy’s heart rate started to rise. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy’s second kid had started off better. In fact, as he recounted the 15 years that Jack McMannigan had lived on this Earth, he couldn’t see how he could have raised him better. Yes, Billy was gone for months at a time, but that was the life of someone who works the sea for a living. He had met his wife Mary at a town fireman’s funeral - an inauspicious meeting place perhaps, but somehow it suited their dark and strange humor. The running joke was that Jack had been conceived in the bathroom at the reception - </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love at a Funeral</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, or something.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mary was the best possible match a sailor could have asked for: short, tan, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and dark-tongued. She could swear the habit off a monk (</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">another one of dad’s sayings, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy thought), but she ran her house like a military barracks. Homework had to be done, dishes put away, bed made, the whole nine yards. God knows it wasn’t easy raising a kid half by herself, but someone needed to bring in some money. And Jack was a hockey player, so the treacherous North Atlantic winters were spent jammed three-across in the cab of the family pickup, hockey bag slung into the bed, driving across southern New Hampshire and northern Mass for tournaments and practices at all hours of the day and night. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy guessed that hockey was where Jack had picked up drugs. Understandable. The timetable gets shorter every year - Billy was even hearing stories of kids “having sex” in elementary school, whatever the hell that meant. But two years ago, when Billy’s life had slammed headlong into a concrete barrier with a simple phone call, it hadn’t been understandable at all. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__ </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Middle Brewster tumbled from a thick ridge to a narrow hump on Billy’s left. The lights of Quincy and points south came into view. The </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Knife </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">drew around the inner edge of the island, skipping out beyond the rocks and snarls in the shallows as Billy revved the engine. The sprint was approaching. It was 12:20 AM. Billy’s nerve endings began to sizzle.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack had been at a party in Wayland, Mass. Steve Prutz, one of the kids on his traveling hockey team lived there, and the drive from Salem to Wayland wasn’t one that Billy wanted to make twice in one night. Jack slept over, along with a couple other players. Apparently, Steve’s older brother came home from college that weekend. With heroin. Some of the hockey kids, eager in that uniquely teen male way both to show off and fit in simultaneously, tried it. Billy’s son Jack, ever the one-upper, took too much. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Hold onto your hats, boys!” Billy called as he dropped the engine into gear and the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Morning Knife</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> fizzed forward, throwing arcs of white foam into the night sky. Their orders were to shoot on sight. Billy had never killed anyone. Then again, he had never busted what he’d been told was the largest heroin shipment in Boston’s history. Billy checked his watch as his knees automatically absorbed the shock of the pounding surf: 12:23.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When Jack’s lab results came back, they said that it was some of the purest heroin they’d ever seen in the area. They were amazed that none of the other kids had died. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy just didn’t see what he could have done. Sports were supposed to teach life lessons like teamwork, sportsmanship, and the value of hard work. No one said anything about peer pressure, lack of supervision, or drugs. His hands clenched the wheel as he drove straight towards the barge. Its black outline slowly grew larger in front of them. So far, there was no outcry from the deck.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">October 19</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">12:13 AM</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">42°20'08.0"N 70°53'42.9"W</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Just off the NW coast of Great Brewster Island</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Fuckin’ hurry it up!”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Captain Ambrogio, furious that a group made up of pure muscle and shipwise braun couldn’t load simple suitcases into a barge faster than this, hung over the port railing and fumed at the lifeboat’s occupants. A pulley system had been rigged up, and Ambrogio silently cursed the use of his large, blunt craft for such a specialized procedure. Stowing a few bags of heroin on an oceangoing barge was akin to hiding three dollars inside a false-bottomed cooler before going in the water at the beach - safe, but unnecessarily complicated. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The bags came up one after the other. Slowly, ever so slowly. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">God, how hard is it to haul in a bag of blow, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">thought Ambrogio as Timmy Doyle wound the line around a winch amidships. At this rate, it would take nearly half an hour to get all sixteen cases onboard. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Although he had never transported heroin before, it was a fairly common practice for barge captains to move some sort of illegal material. Guns were a popular shipment, as he regularly made the route from the woefully underregulated Canadian provinces down into such gang strongholds as Providence and New Haven. Marijuana was rampant everywhere, and Carlo had carried his share. Cocaine as well, and recently, more and more prescription painkillers. But Carlo had never heard of a shipment this large. It seemed like there was no end to the heroin. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Though Carlo was agitated, he couldn’t figure out a better way to load the suitcases. Doyle wound the winch, bringing the product up and over the gunwale on the port side of the barge. Derek Bruxton (Ambrogio’s son-in-law, and a young but useful sailor) untied the cases from the line and passed them to Terrance Gordon. Terrance then took the cases and, after making sure they were firmly closed, stowed them neatly inside the back of a white van. This van was one of hundreds of others stored in the large containers on the barge’s deck - Ambrogio was transporting the seized assets of a moving company in Canada whose CEO had just been indicted for fraud.The remaining crew member, a transient named Brian that Carlo had taken in less than a week ago, was on guard duty on the starboard side. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carlo clicked the button on the side of his watch to light up the display. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">12:25. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The cases were nearly all up. Carlo thought he heard a faint humming. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">October 19</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">12:29 AM</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">42°20'06.6"N 70°53'42.8"W</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Just off the NW coast of Great Brewster Island</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Knife </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">cut through the water like its namesake. The hull of the massive barge loomed ahead of Billy and his crew, darker than anything Billy had ever seen. The plan was a simple one - pull alongside the hull, use old-fashioned grapple hooks to pull themselves up, subdue and tie up the crew, and call the Coast Guard. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Although Nancy had told him this was a lazy bunch, Billy didn’t think they’d be without a guard, so he didn’t approach the barge in a straight line, taking banked turns every two hundred feet or so to keep the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Knife </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">headed in the right direction. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Suddenly, from the middle of the barge’s deck, a muzzle flash exploded. Billy couldn’t hear the report of the gunshot, but he knew Lancaster, Miller, and Murphy had seen it too, as they ducked behind cover. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ducky’s voice came high over the steering column: “Now we’re into it, boys!” he cackled as he reached for his AR-15. Billy swung the boat wide again, his veins blazing with adrenaline as he raced for the stern of the barge. The </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Knife </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">was 500 feet away. Another shot rang out. Billy saw the muzzle flash, heard a crack, and felt lucky as a chunk of his transom went spinning off into the ocean. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Hit ‘em, Duck!” he called to the prow. Ducky Lancaster got to one knee and squeezed off a barrage in the direction of the muzzle flashes. Billy brought the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Knife</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> alongside the barge, and Miller and Murphy immediately launched their hooks up the side of the hull. Miller’s caught, and he began climbing. Murphy’s caught on the second try, and he started up. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A shot rang out from down the hull, towards the prow. The guardsman was using the boat as cover, leaning out over the ocean to shoot and then pulling back. Ducky threw another hail of bullets up towards the front of the barge, where he’d seen the flash. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy’s heart pounded. He knew they’d have heard the firing by now, and just hoped that Miller and Murphy had reached the top before the barge’s occupants had time to find weapons. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carlo Ambrogio’s first thought when he heard the gunshot was how he actually wasn’t surprised. Fifteen of the 16 suitcases were already on board, and the 16th was on its way up, when Brian’s gunshot rocked the deck of the barge. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Timmy! Terrance! Derek! Get your guns! Starboard with Brian!” Ambrogio yelled all this as he sprinted down the port side of the barge, old leg muscles protesting as he cursed himself for leaving his gun in his quarters on the tug. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He heard more shots, and felt his heart drop to his intestines. Automatic weapons. They weren’t fucking around. He knew his crew only had pistols, plus the flare gun on the bridge, not that that would be much help. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He caught a glimpse of two of his men running to the Brian’s aid, and turned his head to shout some final instructions, when his foot came down awkwardly on something in the dark. His right foot twisted horribly underneath his leg, and Carlo pitched to the right, cracking his head against the railing of the barge. The last thing he felt before unconsciousness took him was a searing pain in his right ankle.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miller and Murphy were over the side and onto the deck. It was nearly pitch black, and Miller could just make out the superstructure of the barge to his left. He motioned Murphy behind it and threw three road flares down the deck towards the prow. The middle of the barge lit up red, and Murphy made out the silhouette of the guardsman hunkered against the gunwale 100 feet away. He put three bursts of gunfire towards the man, then ducked behind the mass of metal and fished out his flashlight. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ducky Lancaster scrambled up the hull of the barge after his comrades, after giving Billy a look somewhere between crazed excitement and pure fear. His AR-15 was slung over his back like a banjo. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The bank of light switches was right where the blueprints to the barge said it would be - chest-height on the back of the superstructure. Miller wrenched up the biggest-looking lever, and the deck was flooded with crisp, white light. Two of Carlo’s crewmembers - Terrance Gordon and Derek Bruxton, were crouched behind the same container, a large, blue rectangle of corrugated iron that sat 15 feet forward of the superstructure. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gordon saw with alarm that a grappling hook was locked around the railing of the barge directly in front of him. He started for it, but then a hand gripped the railing next to the hook. Gordon’s heart leapt to his throat and he shot reflexively. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ducky screamed in agony as the bullet punctured the top of his hand, clanged off the railing, and ricocheted out into the night, nearly tearing his hand from his wrist. With no support, Ducky’s body flopped backwards into the darkness and fell, twisting, 20 feet into the surf. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miller heard the scream and rolled out into the walkway between the gunwale and the middle part of the barge, spraying gunfire down the lines of containers. He saw a few of his bullets nip clothing behind the blue container, and motioned for Murphy to cover him as he ran up the side of the barge. Derek Bruxton dropped into a crouch and spun out into the open, hoping to catch Miller off guard. Miller killed him with the first burst, and put two more into him to make sure. As he sprinted up to the edge of the container, he saw a pistol skitter out into his path and Terrance Gordon’s pleading voice, several registers higher than normal, begging him not to shoot. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miller obliged. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Using the barrel of the gun to emphasize his orders, Miller had Gordon sit against the gunwale. He secured his wrists to the railing of the barge with zipties. He then checked the pulse of the guardsman who remained slumped next to the gunwale - light, but still discernible. It looked like he had taken three bullets - one to the right thigh, one to the right shoulder, and one that grazed his left temple. Miller told Murphy to check the rest of the barge while he secured the guardsman’s hands to the railing and packed the bullet holes with gauze from a back pocket. No sense in having more deaths than necessary. If they could help it. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The red and white lights and wailing sirens didn’t take long to reach the barge. Billy smiled faintly as he wondered whether the cutter from the head station in Boston and that of the satellite station in Hull were racing to get there first - they would both claim they only wanted to help, but in truth, the chance to be the first Coast Guard unit on the scene of such a drug bust was bound to come with some perks. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ducky lay on his back, a blanket over his dripping body and his head in Billy’s lap as Billy sat against the transom of the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">White Knife. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He would live, Billy had made sure of that. His hand was completely enveloped in gauze and tape, elevated above his body by an overturned bucket. Billy had pulled Duck from the ocean not thirty seconds after he had come crashing down off the railing. Billy’s hands had been shaking more than Ducky’s entire body, despite the younger man’s blood loss and possible hypothermia - he had known that this raid wasn’t entirely foolproof, but the sight of Ducky’s shattered hand made things a little too real.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miller and Murphy stood by the gunwale of the barge, next to their captives - Brian, bleeding but alive; Terrance Gordon, shaken but unhurt; captain Carlo Ambrogio, nursing a severely sprained ankle and a tremendous lump on his head; and Timmy Doyle, who had surrendered without a fight to Seamus Murphy when he had found him hiding between two containers amidships. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As the Coast Guard lights rippled over the dark water, Billy let himself think, for the first time in years, about what it would be like to be out of debt. No creditors calling him, no veiled threats coming his way from across a lunch table, no looking over his shoulder every time he walked down a Boston street after midnight. He knew that this wasn’t a clean job - whoever was on the other end of this deal was going to be in some serious shit. But that was their problem. Right now, Billy wanted two things: for Ducky’s hand to be fixed, and a cold Miller Lite.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">3</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">November 2</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">12:33 PM</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">42°17'59.2"N 71°00'27.0"W</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Quincy, MA</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy sat comfortably in his fraying leather recliner. College football was on the TV, Wisconsin vs. Michigan State, not that Billy was terribly interested. His black Lab, an old fellow named Chuck who had been with him for more than 10 years now, lay next to the chair in a patch of autumn sunlight. The phone was mercifully silent, and the front door was unlocked for the first time in years.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy took a moment, one of many he’d taken over the past few weeks, to count his blessings. All in all, he’d been outrageously lucky. The plan had gone off almost without a hitch.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">First, the Coast Guard had radioed their station in Hull the night of the raid, and a squadron of policemen had been waiting outside Pat’s bar when Steeps and his hired men had exited the front door. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then, they had piloted the barge into its bay in Boston Harbor and taken the wounded men to the hospital (and the dead one to the coroner). The only one still in critical condition was the guardsman from the barge - Billy had heard from a friend that the bullet had done a little bit more than simply graze his scalp. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy and his crew had been given a Coast Guard escort into the harbor. After an extensive round of questioning at Boston Police Headquarters, they had been let go with no charges. The police had understandably been embarrassed in being upstaged by some civilian fishermen, and they wanted this all to blow over quickly. In fact, the Police Department actually went beyond what Billy would consider normal praise and gave him the money and proper forms to get the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">White Knife</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> legally registered, as well as a hefty reward for him and his crew.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not that he needed the money, of course. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Because Billy hadn’t been idle as the Coast Guard cutters had made their way out towards the barge that night. After bandaging Ducky’s hand, he had grappled himself up and onto the barge, found the van where the suitcases were located, and took two for himself. He stowed them in a secret compartment near the stern of the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Knife</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, figuring that none of the perps would mind a conviction for 175 pounds of heroin, as opposed to 200. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The street value of the contents of each suitcase was $1,132,500. Which meant that Billy, five million in debt as of two months ago, had pooled the sale of his father’s land and the drugs to pull himself free. Of course, that meant selling twenty five pounds of ultra-pure heroin, the same stuff that killed his second son, to various Boston-area drug cartels.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was no wonder that he had started drinking heavily again.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">December 24</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">6:03 PM</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">42°18'16.2"N 70°54'58.7"W</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hull, MA</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Pull me another pint, you beautiful creature,” crooned Billy in a terrible Frank Sinatra impression. “And pour one for yourself as well.” </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He sat, drunk, at the far end of the bar at Pat’s, near the taps and the dartboard, which also gave him the best view of the grey, rain-battered ocean outside the window. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“If you insist, Mister Big-Shot.” Billy wasn’t even looking at Nancy and he could tell she was smiling. That was good, Billy thought. If she knew that his drinking was more complicated than celebratory, she could go into armchair psychologist mode at a moment’s notice.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The lone TV above the bar was tuned to NECN - the New England Cable News channel. Nancy claimed it was the only news station without an agenda, though she couldn’t precisely articulate the agenda that the ABC, NBC, or CBS affiliates were pushing.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy’s heroin bust still led the news every once in a while, when it had been a slow day or, in this case, if there was a development. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“BREAKING NEWS” read the banner at the bottom of the screen as Melissa O’Toole and Peter Graham looked earnestly into the camera, all frozen hair and Botox.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“A new update in the Boston Harbor heroin case, as one of the alleged perpetrators has died in the hospital. We go live to Jessica Stark at Mass General. Jessica?”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The screen shifted to a shot of Jessica Stark (</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">a true babe, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">thought Billy) outside Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston. A few snowflakes swirled around the concrete-and-glass facade of the building behind her.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Thanks Melissa. We have just received word that as of about two hours ago, one of the five men allegedly involved in the infamous Boston Harbor heroin bust has died of wounds sustained during the encounter.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy leaned closer to the bar. This might not matter, or it might matter quite a bit, depending on how the stories of all involved shook out. But then, as Jessica babbled on about finding the mother of the deceased, Billy’s world crashed into a cement wall again. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The weeping, hunched woman who was leaning into Jessica Stark as if she could physically transfer some of her pain to the reporter was someone that Billy had known very well, a long time ago. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was Steph Johnson. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy gave an involuntary </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">yurp </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">noise and felt his liquid dinner beginning to come back up. He dashed past the dartboard and out the back door, and launched three pints of Smithwick’s into the sea. Then he wiped his mouth and went back inside. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The years had not been kind to Stephanie Johnson. Her slight frame was bent almost double with grief and time, and she could barely get her mouth to the height of the microphone. Billy only caught snatches of her words between his tears. Nancy was nowhere to be found - sadness wasn’t her strong suit. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Stephanie finished her interview and walked unsteadily away, staying in the camera shot as she moved up the wide driveway of Mass General towards the main entrance.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Absolutely heartbreaking for a mother to lose her son, no matter the circumstances,” finished Jessica. “Back to you in the studio.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy sat with his head in his hands, his elbows propped on the polished driftwood bar, arms and torso shaking with controlled sobs. He was oh-for-two again, but this time it was final.</span>Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-19003574965141454852014-05-01T17:58:00.002-04:002014-05-14T10:17:00.827-04:00World Cup Preview: Group E Predictions<i>Everyone's favorite desk-bound prognosticator is back with another World Cup preview. Read previous installations <a href="http://robbievogel.blogspot.com/search/label/World%20Cup">here</a>.</i><br />
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<b>Group E: Switzerland, Ecuador, France, Honduras</b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXehOF8_FkLaQMdnmxmh9-5qQft0GRgrBWrUcrsm8RG4um94iyHdPhKHyZKzyt9JHbTZjVqxDc2sipYS9rCsVAerNonDLUAULKyc1LJGqP00NSrbE3n1AdD1g_D1gdTz_9ArQ6xXAECtY/s1600/france.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXehOF8_FkLaQMdnmxmh9-5qQft0GRgrBWrUcrsm8RG4um94iyHdPhKHyZKzyt9JHbTZjVqxDc2sipYS9rCsVAerNonDLUAULKyc1LJGqP00NSrbE3n1AdD1g_D1gdTz_9ArQ6xXAECtY/s1600/france.jpg" height="188" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Guys? Has the game started?" - 2,000 people</td></tr>
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Intriguing. Switzerland as a Pot 1 team, eh? Let's see where this goes.<br />
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<b>Prediction: France win group, Switzerland second.</b><br />
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<b>France.</b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/01378/Franck-Ribery_1378375c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/01378/Franck-Ribery_1378375c.jpg" height="200" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"We ride at dawn!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Even before starting this writeup, I already hate my predictions. This is kind of the same thing that happens with my NCAA basketball picks - I make my picks based on what <b>should </b>happen, and then it all goes to Hell. I'll pick the wrong upsets in this World Cup as well, I'm sure, so don't be surprised if Ecuador sneak out of this group.<br />
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Having said that, I think France is pretty safe. They just have way too much quality to not survive and advance, even with the shocking exclusion of Manchester City midfielder Samir Nasri. It's well known that England, German, Italy, Spain, and France house the top five domestic leagues in the world, and out of France's current roster, 22 of 23 players play in one of these leagues. </div>
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For contrast, Honduras, Ecuador, and Switzerland combined can claim 20 such players between them. </div>
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Meteoric talents like Ribery, Benzema, and Lloris will carry <i>Les Bleus</i> through to the knockout stages, despite the French's historical record of mixed World Cup performance <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/France_at_the_FIFA_World_Cup">outside Western Europe.</a></div>
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<b>Switzerland.</b></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://blog.eastbay.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/Gelson-Fernandes-of-Switzerland-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://blog.eastbay.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/Gelson-Fernandes-of-Switzerland-2.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seems that it was recently <a href="http://youtu.be/Iszb_IuMD18?t=14s">goal time</a>.</td></tr>
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For the same reason that I have France winning this group, I have Switzerland emerging as the second-place team. They are simply a deeper team, with more experience playing high-stakes, top-notch football. Since a shock victory against Spain in 2010, the Swiss have been rightly seen as a global threat.</div>
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Age will not be a factor that slows this team down. They have the youth to overcome the oppressive Brazilian heat, as captain Gohkan Inler is only 29, and studs like Xherdan Shaqiri and Granit Xhaka are 22 and 21, respectively. In fact, their oldest player is 30, which is mighty young for a goalkeeper with 55 caps to his name in Diego Benaglio.</div>
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Also, read those names. This is not your father's Switzerland side. (<i>Did your father have a Switzerland side? Whatever). </i>Players born in such former Socialist Republics as <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blerim_D%C5%BEemaili">Macedonia</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Admir_Mehmedi">Yugoslavia</a>, and, um... <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gelson_Fernandes#International_career">Cape Verde</a> have made their way onto this roster, and they're poised to represent the <i>Schweizer Nati</i> to the best of their abilities. </div>
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Granted, I don't know a ton about their players. What I do know, however? They play against better teams both at the club and country level, and they're currently 8th in the world. That's gotta count for something. </div>
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<b>Ecuador. </b></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cdn.images.express.co.uk/img/dynamic/67/590x/valencia-465780.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn.images.express.co.uk/img/dynamic/67/590x/valencia-465780.jpg" height="191" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A preview of how the Ecuadorian team might feel after this group stage.</td></tr>
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The dude above is Antonio Valencia. In addition to eating an unfinished prototype of Willy Wonka's newest face-enlarging candy, he's the only player I've heard of on this Ecuador team. He plays for Manchester United and has an alarming habit of suffering <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Slmtom7JJZ0">shocking injuries</a> (don't click that link if you're a fan of left ankles).<br />
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He's got some skill, for sure, but Ecuador will need to rely on more than one player to make it out of this group.<br />
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And although they might only have one household name, the Ecuadorians come absolutely chock-full of international experience. An astonishing eight players have over 40 caps, including 34-year-old left back Walter Ayovi - a man who played in all 16 of Ecuador's World Cup qualifying games.<br />
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This kind of steady play at the back is one of the reasons that I could see Ecuador moving on. Another chief reason is one that I make reference to repeatedly, because it bears repeating: the atmosphere.<br />
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Now, again, I'm not simply talking about matches that will be played in high heat and humidity. I'm talking about mini sports wars that will be fought in a cacophony of drums, heat, haze, smoke, firework residue, g-strings, sweat, sunscreen, weed, booze, and humidity.<br />
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Granted, this is a major international tournament, and it's in a relatively underdeveloped country, so the police presence will likely be formidable. However, this <a href="http://brazilinhotpants.wordpress.com/2014/04/30/world-cup-2014-why-the-warfare/">isn't always the best idea</a>.<br />
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Ecuador plays in South America. They know what it's like to go into big stadiums and deal with the best teams in the world. They fought Uruguay to a 1-1 draw on away soil, and nearly nipped a point from top-5 world power Colombia, losing 1-0 away. The crowds of their home continent will be behind them and against the European adversaries of France and Switzerland. I like these Ecuadorians. I'm just not sure if they can make up for the gulf in quality.<br />
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<b>Honduras.</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.101greatgoals.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/figueroa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.101greatgoals.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/figueroa.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Sup, fresh? <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9iCd6UHR-3I&feature=kp">It's our turn, baby</a>"</td></tr>
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Sadly, despite Maynor Figueroa's cool-ass facial expression up there, I just don't think the Hondurans have the depth to make this a contest.<br />
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(Sidenote: it's hard to write this with a straight face while listening to the song in that caption's link. I suggest you play it.)</div>
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Yes, we all remember <a href="http://msn.foxsports.com/foxsoccer/usa/story/honduras-2-1-united-states-match-report-concacaf-world-cup-qualifying-020613">this complete nonsense</a>, but the Yanks redeemed themselves in the Gold Cup with a 3-1 victory. The Honduras were solid at home and shaky on the road in CONCACAF, and I'm guessing they won't get much in the way of support when they run into the big boys in Brazil. A road loss to Panama and a tie in Jamaica are causes for concern when facing top-notch opposition, and the Honduras should probably prepare for a quick exit. </div>
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Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-9007353401102267212014-04-08T23:51:00.000-04:002014-04-09T16:25:20.067-04:00Your 2014 Masters PreviewHello friends.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cdn.newsday.com/polopoly_fs/1.1849776.1270599731!/image/653944284.JPG_gen/derivatives/display_600/653944284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn.newsday.com/polopoly_fs/1.1849776.1270599731!/image/653944284.JPG_gen/derivatives/display_600/653944284.JPG" height="229" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hello friends.</td></tr>
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It's the first full week in April, and that can only mean one thing. It's Masters week.<br />
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As we know due to the nonstop commercials and Jim Nantz's buttery vocals, the PGA Tour's first major is a tradition unlike any other. The rolling green hills, pearl-white bunkers, and skin-smooth greens of Augusta National provide one of the tour's toughest tests, and that's without factoring in the decades of history. Names like Bobby Jones, Gene Sarazen, Ben Hogan, Arnold Palmer, Jack Nicklaus, Tom Watson, and Tiger Woods (to name a few) come whistling through the pines at every turn. Every hole is famous, and every golfer in the field, no matter how many times they've played Augusta, will be laboring under the knowledge that they're making history. </div>
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In short, it's a tough tournament to win. In fact, since 1986, 17 of the winners have been ranked in the top 10 of the Official World Golf Rankings. Hat tip to <a href="http://espn.go.com/blog/statsinfo/post/_/id/87508/top-stats-to-know-masters-preview">ESPN </a>on that one. </div>
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So it's the most historic and renowned major, and also the first time that the casual sports fan starts caring about golf during the year. That's great. But who's going to win it?</div>
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I'll tell you. </div>
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<b>Three Real Contenders</b></div>
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(This might get long quick (ZING), so I'm only gonna write up the three guys who I see having a real shot at winning this thing. Invariably, I'll be wrong, but these three are the best bets. After that, I'll throw in a sentence or two on some other folks of note.) </div>
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Phil Mickelson</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cbssports.com/images/blogs/2013_Masters_Phil_Mickelson_Phrankenwood_Callaway_Golf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://cbssports.com/images/blogs/2013_Masters_Phil_Mickelson_Phrankenwood_Callaway_Golf.jpg" height="203" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My secret? Daily Bloody Marys... with human blood.</td></tr>
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Phil finally got over the hump, both figuratively and literally, last year when he won the British Open at Muirfield. Never known as a links player, Phil adapted his game well enough to conquer one of Scotland's toughest tracks. After listening to his press conference today, I can say that he's still flying high from that victory, even though he hasn't finished better than 12th in a tournament since October. It seems like he's becoming a bit Tigerish in his later years, focusing much more on the majors than the regular events. Augusta sets up well for lefties, as you can see from the victories of Mike Weir, Bubba Watson, and Phil himself. There's no clear favorite this year, but if I had to choose, I'd put my money on Phil the Thrill.</div>
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Rory McIlroy</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom made pizza rolls!</td></tr>
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If there's such a thing as a consensus pick to win this thing, it's the squinty-eyed Irishman pictured above. Rory has been on a tear lately, dropping a hot 65 on the field this past Sunday to finish 7th at the Shell Houston Open. He's had three top-10s and no finish worse than 25th since October. If history is any indication, Rory should win. From <a href="http://espn.go.com/golf/blog/_/name/golf/id/10675462/watching-texas-eye-augusta-valero-texas-open-golf">ESPN</a>: " None of the previous four Masters winners had a PGA Tour win that season before their victory at Augusta, but they all entered the major with strong, if not overwhelming, season resumes." Sounds exactly like what Rory's doing. His downfall? The mental side. McIlroy collapsed down the stretch at Augusta in 2011, then rebounded to win the US Open that year by about 12,000 strokes. His other major win is the 2012 PGA Championship where he again lapped the field. He's never had to sweat for a win on the back nine of a major Sunday. And at this point in his career, I don't think he has the stones for it.<br />
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Adam Scott<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/02536/adam-scott_2536726b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/02536/adam-scott_2536726b.jpg" height="200" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You would? Really? Well, thanks very much. Talk to me after the press conference.</td></tr>
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Scottie the Aussie won this whole thing last year, in one of the year's best redemption stories (quick recap: he just imploded on the back nine at the British the year before, dropping 4 shots on the final 4 holes to lose to Ernie Els). He's got a picture-perfect swing, he's long off the tee, and he has the major monkey off his back. Only three golfers have repeated as Masters champion: Nicklaus in 1965-66, Faldo in 1989-90, and Woods in 2000-01. An unshabby list. The Awesome Aussie has the talent to pull it off.<br />
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<b>Other Notables</b></div>
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<b>Tiger Woods </b>- Not entered. Unfortunately, not an April Fool's joke, though it was announced on 4/1. </div>
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<b>Jason Day </b>- Lots of good buzz around this dude. Always in the mix - has finished top 3 in 2 of the last 3 Masters.</div>
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<b>Bubba Watson </b>- People are all over the place on Bubba. I tend to think his win was a fluke. Doesn't have the short game to win another Masters. </div>
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<b>Rickie Fowler </b>- Depending on whether or not Mickelson was lying in his press conference, may have shot a 61 in a practice round today. Unreal skill, matching swagger. If he gets on a roll, watch out.</div>
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<b>Dustin Johnson</b> - Another ridiculous talent who has so far been unable to cash in at a major. I personally hate Dustin Johnson because he plays like he doesn't care whether he wins or loses. </div>
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<b>Brandt Snedeker</b> - While I respect Sned's desire to win the Masters, I just can't get past the actual way he plays. Those who have watched him will know what I mean - he's all quick little rabbity movements and jerky, unfluid swings. Awful to watch. Hope he misses the cut.</div>
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<b>Sergio Garcia</b> - The ultimate wild card. The consensus best player to never win a major, Sergio might put it all together this week. Or he might have a total meltdown. He's appointment television either way.</div>
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<b>Henrik Stenson </b>- Ruthlessly efficient, highly skilled, seemingly unflappable. These adjectives used to describe Tiger Woods, back when he was winning Masters seemingly every two weeks. Now, they describe Henrik Stenson. Don't be surprised to see him hovering near the top of the leaderboard.</div>
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<b>Matt Kuchar </b>- I personally love Kuchar's playing style as much as I hate Snedeker's. However, Kooch has lost two tournaments in the past two weeks on Sunday. I think that's true. It's 11:30 and I'm trying to go to bed soon, so I'm not gonna fact check that. But basically, he's been falling apart on Sundays lately and that's never good to have in the back of your mind when heading into Augusta. </div>
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<b>Interesting Nuggets</b></div>
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- Trevor Immelman (odds to win: 150/1) has not missed a cut at Augusta since winning the tournament in 2008. </div>
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- The same dude is the only fellow in the last 29 years to win the tournament after leading at the end of the first round.</div>
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- Looking for a good course to compare to Augusta? Peep the Blue Monster at Doral. Host course of the WGC-Cadillac Championship in early March, this long course in Florida does a decent job of predicting success at Augusta. Again, from ESPN: "Over the past ten years, the Masters winner played earlier in the season at Doral nine times...All nine made the cut at Doral, and four of them finished in the top 10." The winner at Doral this year? Youngster Patrick Reed.</div>
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- According to the rules of how my mind thinks math works, Sergio Garcia is due for a 3rd-place finish this year at the Masters. He's gone 45th-35th-12th-8th the past 4 years. He's trending in the right direction.<br />
- True story: Angel Cabrera sits in a porch swing and smokes cigars for 11 months of the year. He only rises from his throne to contend at the Masters.<br />
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- Jordan Spieth is my favorite player on Tour. He's 20 years old and he's just incredible. In fact, he's already listed at only 22/1 to win the whole thing. Though I doubt that happens, he's going to be a name to remember for quite some time.<br />
- Want to put down a tenner on someone to make some real cash? Try Matteo Manassero. Another 20-year-old, the Italian is the youngest player to win a European Tour event, and has already gotten two cracks at Augusta. Third time's a charm.</div>
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Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-88542738538773997812014-04-02T12:09:00.000-04:002014-05-14T11:17:58.643-04:00The Inigo Martinez Speculative Rip of the Week: Alexander TetteyIn a battle between two relegation-threatened Premier League sides, Norwich City put away Jozy Altidore and Sunderland 2-0 on March 22. One of the Canaries' goals came on this absolute thumper from midfielder Alexander Tettey.<br />
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Actually, check that. It wasn't a thumper. It was something much better than that. A wonderful website called 101 Great Goals described it perfectly. Their phrase for this rocket:<br />
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An "incredible thunderbastard."<br />
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Yes, that's right, they called it a fucking THUNDERBASTARD.<br />
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God I love the Brits.<br />
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<br />Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-40329729301997879372014-03-24T17:08:00.001-04:002014-05-14T10:17:11.048-04:002014 World Cup Draw: Group D Predictions<i>Haven't done one of these in a while, but we're back! Check out my previous World Cup efforts <a href="http://robbievogel.blogspot.com/search/label/World%20Cup">here</a>. </i><br />
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<b>Group D: Uruguay, Costa Rica, England, Italy</b><br />
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Well now. This should be intriguing. Remember this headline from the 2010 World Cup in South Africa?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://news.upperplayground.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/1af7788ab842x625.jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://news.upperplayground.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/1af7788ab842x625.jpg.jpg" height="320" width="176" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clever.</td></tr>
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That was England's reaction to drawing the USA and two cream puffs of varying creaminess in Slovenia and Algeria. I wonder what they're saying now?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Right. Ok then.</td></tr>
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Anyway, on to the predictions. </div>
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<b>Italy win group, Uruguay second. </b></div>
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<b>Italy. </b></div>
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It's pretty clear to me that Italy is the best team in this group. They have all the keys to a successful national side: experienced goalkeeping and defending, a midfield that knows how to play their system and has the confidence to shine on the big stage, and strong, fast, lethal strikers (most particularly Mario Balotelli). </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/incoming/article8471688.ece/BINARY/original/v2-mario-balotelli-why-always-me1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.independent.co.uk/incoming/article8471688.ece/BINARY/original/v2-mario-balotelli-why-always-me1.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think you know why.</td></tr>
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(PS: Shout out to Anderson being in that photo - first time I've seen him in about a year and a half).<br />
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I can absolutely see Super Mario cementing his place as one of the greatest forwards in world football with a dynamite tournament - when he puts his mind more into scoring goals and less into <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/football/2011/oct/22/mario-balotelli-house-fire-fireworks">setting his bathroom on fire</a>, the man is an absolute menace. In a good way.</div>
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<b>Uruguay.</b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of wrist kisses in Brazil.</td></tr>
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Every World Cup, a player who toils in relative obscurity blasts onto the international radar, becoming (at least for a week or three) one of the most talked-about people in sports. Four years ago in South Africa, Atletico Madrid and Uruguay forward (and <a href="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Football/Pix/pictures/2010/7/7/1278513133779/Diego-Forl-n-of-Uruguay-006.jpg">blonde</a> <a href="http://widedscreen.com/images/wallpapers/Aragorn-wallpaper-4.jpg">Aragorn</a> lookalike) Diego Forlan was this player. He won the Golden Ball as the best player in the tournament, and scored 5 goals on Uruguay's run to the semifinals.<br />
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This year's entry won't be coming from Uruguay, that's for sure.</div>
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Noted handball aficionado, diving extraordinaire, and <a href="http://www.dailystar.co.uk/sport/football/360589/REVEALED-The-real-meaning-of-Luis-Suarez-s-wrist-kissing-goal-celebration">family man</a> Luis Suarez will be leading Uruguay. Suarez is rocketing up the "best player in the world" rankings, and currently is sitting pretty at the top of the Premier League goal hunt, his 28 strikes taking him a stunning nine goals clear of his teammate Daniel Sturridge. The strike force of Suarez and Sturridge has worked well for Liverpool, and teaming Suarez up with Forlan and fellow Uruguayan assassin Edinson Cavani should provide more than a few fireworks in Brazil. </div>
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<b>England.</b></div>
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This really is a tough draw for the Three Lions. Prone to hyperbole and premature mythmaking, the English press has created and destroyed more legends than George R.R. Martin in the past 25 years. Beckham, Scholes, Shearer, Owen, Rooney, Gerrard, Lampard, and Terry are just a few of the names of top-notch English footballers who have failed to claim a World Cup for the soccer-mad nation. In fact, since 1990, the English haven't even tasted a semi-final match. </div>
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Sadly, this trend will continue for four more years. Not even Wayne Rooney's silly, silly hair can help them escape this group. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i3.mirror.co.uk/incoming/article1304106.ece/ALTERNATES/s615/Rooney%20620-1304106" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i3.mirror.co.uk/incoming/article1304106.ece/ALTERNATES/s615/Rooney%20620-1304106" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pictured: Wayne Rooney's silly, silly hair.</td></tr>
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It's funny the way football narratives work. I see Italy as a deep, experienced team with a killer young tandem up front in Balotelli and Stephan El-Sharaawy, but I see England as a slow, plodding side filled with last-gaspers like Steven Gerrard and Frank Lampard, even though the English do have some young talents in Liverpool's Jordan Henderson, Arsenal's Jack Wilshere, and United's Danny Welbeck.<br />
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The question becomes - will the old guard stifle the youngsters' creativity, or will they act as a safety net to allow the kids to flourish?</div>
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<b>Costa Rica.</b></div>
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This game, played in Colorado a year ago, was not the ideal scenario for a Costa Rican football team:</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not even for a Costa Rican <i>football</i> football team.</td></tr>
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Never considered a world power, Costa Rica did make a game of it, but ended up losing 1-0. Upon the return visit by the USMNT in September of last year, the Costa Ricans were <a href="http://www.mlssoccer.com/news/article/2013/09/04/usmnt-experiencing-gamesmanship-over-infamous-snow-game-costa-rican-fans-and">none too happy</a>.<br />
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What does all this have to say about their World Cup prospects? Well, a few things. Like, for instance, the fact that they HATE the cold. So that's a point in their favor, since Brazil in June can get a bit toasty. Also, they're pretty good at the revenge thing. It's too bad this isn't a double round robin tournament, because Costa Rica crunched the Yanks soundly in the September match, winning 3-1. </div>
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Costa Rica is a young team - their oldest player is 31, and depending on call-ups, they might only have two 30-year-olds. They don't have the skills to run with the three big boys here, but watch out for them during the next cycle. <br />
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Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-18140083306391840522014-03-21T10:58:00.001-04:002014-03-26T10:57:44.548-04:00New Short Story: "Coming Up the Dark Hill"<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Just finished a new short story. Submitted it to a competition for a British short story publication. It's a bold strategy Cotton, let's see if it works out for me. Read if you wish. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> All of a sudden John felt like he had been driving for hours. His legs were sore from staying half-bent for so long, his ass was going numb, and he could almost feel the vertebrae in his lower back shifting and settling slowly downward, layers of sedimentary rock forming in his spine. He turned his head to the right and was mildly surprised to see his girlfriend asleep in the passenger seat. She was certainly his girlfriend, but he realized in the same instant he looked at her that he had no earthly idea where they were. He had no conception of the place they had left, and though it seemed like they had been on the road for hundreds of miles, his mind refused to divulge their destination.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> The yellow headlight beams cut a blurry tunnel through the night. He had a vague sense that they were going home. He was also all of a sudden very nervous that he had just “blacked back in” from being extremely drunk. This explanation would fit the scenario, but he rejected this notion even before it was fully formed as a thought. He knew how he felt after a night of drinking – breathless and wide-eyed, like the dials on his nerve endings had been turned up a few notches. Tonight he simply felt tired and sluggish, but oddly alert. And there was an underlying twanging deep in his chest, something unnatural and startling like a loose guitar string.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> In another blast of recognition, he found the hill up which he was driving to be ruthlessly unchanging: an endless shallow grade. He felt like, rather than driving, he was being pulled along on a slowly ascending roller coaster, always waiting for the stomach-shattering drop. He couldn’t see the crest of the hill through the miles of darkness, but he could picture it. Or rather, he could envision how he would feel when he got there. It would be familiar. Maybe he had been there years ago. It was hard to explain, and he stopped himself from thinking about it..</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A low and tumbled stone wall ran along the right side, with a dense wood beyond. Across the oncoming lane, on the left side, the land fell away sharply. Not quite a cliff, but certainly too steep to be called a hill. At the bottom, which seemed like hundreds (</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">and thousands</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, thought John) of feet below, a network of low, uniform, ranch-style homes stretched into the darkness. The thought that came unbidden to his mind was that these were not real houses. They were toys, or models – a subdivision set in miniature and painted like a movie set – nothing but husks. Shells that could be lifted and crushed in an instant. He saw this neighborhood stretching miles into the distance, far further than he felt he had any right to see, and snapped his eyes back to the road as the twanging in his chest gained a shade more urgency.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> A car was coming towards him. It rolled, propelled by nothing other than gravity, and John had a moment of envy as he imagined all the fuel he was burning by dragging his station wagon up this ungodly long hill. The headlights on the approaching car seemed to be somehow more fogged and opaque than his own – no more than yellow circles in the distance, swinging side to side like the hanging lanterns of some old horse-drawn carraige. John suddenly felt terribly exposed. Even inside his car, with the windows rolled up and someone beside him (albeit asleep), his mind jumped full-speed into the horrors that only the dark road can conjure. Half- and quarter-formed images raced through, barreling into and out of his subconscious before he could get more than an impression of what they represented, traced on his imagination like an underdeveloped photograph. Tales he had heard or read or imagined of unsolved murders, intentional head-on wrecks, and pitch-black, lead-legged chases through tall wet grass. Seconds felt like hours as the car crept towards him, and then it was level, and John felt a bone-deep cold take him for a moment, but then it was gone, and he turned to see what the driver looked like.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> In his deepest inner self, John knew that those stories were crap. Made up by cheap horror writers and perpetuated by paranoid mothers intent on getting their children home before the talk shows ended. So he expected to see nothing more or less frightening in the driver’s side window than a regular person. Perhaps he even expected a slight nod, an acknowledgement of the plight of the night driver, making for home as his wife and family sleep, trusting Dad to keep them safe.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> John only got an instant of a glimpse of the driver of the long black sedan that glided past him, but it was enough. A snarl of yellow teeth hung over the white, decaying lips. A black, wide-brimmed hat somehow cast a shadow over the eyes of the driver despite the absence of streetlights. The unmistakable glint of a bottle winked at John as it made its way to the gruesome mouth. John could almost see the brown toxic fumes sliding through the crack in the driver’s side window. The moment John spent staring into the darkness where the other driver’s eyes should have been lasted hours. And then the car rolled past.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> John’s head refused to return to looking forward as his terror-filled subconscious lurched greedily along, crashing doubly fast into the nightmares that he had kept at bay beforehand. Flicker-fast images of corpses and spinning tires and leering, cartoonish faces broke through his mind in jagged waves. The jangling was back in his chest, leaping at his throat like a caged panther diving for freedom. He put his foot to the floor and wrenched his neck around to stare straight ahead. His eyes focused on the reflection of the hellish car in his mirror. His heart expanded with terror as he watched the other driver brake momentarily, seemingly coming to a decision. It sank to near his bowels with relief as the stranger in the round, flat hat took his sedan further on down the hill, away from John and his oblivious girlfriend.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Only then did he realize that his car refused to accelerate. His eyes flickered between the now swiftly-receding taillights of the dead man (</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He’s not dead I just saw him, how could he be dead, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">thought John) and the speedometer on his dashboard, now dropping steadily towards zero. His eyes cast a terrified sidelong look in his mirror again, like a drunk driver tailed by the cops, not daring to swivel his head an inch. The black car slalomed serenely down the hill, uncaring and unhurried in its descent.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> The old motor in John’s car coughed and sputtered. John pounded a shaking open palm on the steering wheel and stamped harder on the accelerator, willing it to sink through the floorboards to some unknown level of power. The motor whined higher and higher, gave a final tremendous belch, and then cut out entirely.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> “Dammit fuck!” John screamed to his windshield as he guided the car off the road and into the grassy strip that led up to the stone wall. His girlfriend (</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">bitch all she does is sleep,</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> John thought) slept on, offering not a sound. John’s hands were slick with sweat, his breath slowly returning from a ragged hitch to something approaching a normal rhythm.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> He turned his head again and picked out the taillights of the black sedan. It was a fair way down the hill by now, probably about a thousand yards, but John could still see the two pinpricks of light as clearly as if they were right in front of him. He watched the brake lights come on, then the right blinker start to flicker slowly.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> The sedan was turning, heading for the endless cookie-cutter subdivision across the road and down the incline from John’s broken-down station wagon.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> John relaxed. Despite the late hour and the almost palpable feeling of malevolence emanating from the man in the black hat, things would be fine. He wasn’t worried about being lost – John’s sense of direction was legendary. He was becoming increasingly sure that he and his sleeping girlfriend had come from a party of some kind – he could remember lights and music, happiness and family. Those feelings called to him through the darkness, a beacon from many miles away reaching out its loving arms to pull him back. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Maybe he had been thinking of other things and his mind had wandered for a few miles during a particularly desolate stretch. It had happened before - John’s job brought him over county and state lines for long stretches on the road, it wasn’t unusual to blank out for a bit (</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">but it </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">was </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">unusual to forget his destination</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, he had to admit). The jangling was back. He wanted his home, but more importantly, he wanted the crest of this </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">goddamn hill. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He pulled the hood lever and got out. He never had been much of a mechanic, but his cell phone wasn’t getting any reception, and neither was his girlfriend’s which he had stored in the cupholder between the front seats. He closed the driver’s side door gently, though it probably wouldn’t have mattered. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She must have had a fair bit to drink</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, John thought, and again wondered where the hell his damn memory had gone. He wasn’t yet thirty, and he could certainly tell anyone that happened to come by what he had had for lunch that day - it was tunafish on rye. He always had tunafish on rye on Tuesdays. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But why were we at a party if today’s Tues-</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Another car door slammed. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">John physically jumped. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The sound had come from far away. Half a mile at least. It had come from the subdivision. The panther made another appearance in John’s throat. He had heard that sound too clearly. It didn’t echo, even in the absolute stillness of the night. It was just a thump, seeming to come from just the other side of the hill across the road. The trees sat limp, the stone wall rolled unbroken for miles in either direction, the only sound was John’s leaping heart and his quickening breath. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then there was another sound. John, in his infinite optimism, thought it was the wind. A gentle breeze sighing somewhere down in the vast, repeating neighborhood of yellow and brown ranch homes (</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">they’re not really homes</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">) that stretched endlessly under dank orange streetlights. Nothing moved in that network of uniformity. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then something moved. A black shadow flitted between houses far to the left of John’s view. It was at the bottom of the hill, seven rows deep into the division of unbroken houses. It flashed between the sixth and fifth rows, and the wind noise that wasn’t wind rose. It sounded to John like the roar of a far-off waterfall. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The shadow painted a black streak on the far wall of the fourth, then the third row of houses. John stood motionless at the hood. He glanced at his girlfriend, who was still sleeping restlessly in the front seat. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The shadow flitted again to the second row of houses. In the time it had taken John to take one step around the front driver’s side of his car, the shadow had left its smudge on the walls of seven houses, roiling from deep within the catacombs to burst into the street. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The amber streetlights hundreds and thousands of yards away from John picked out the man in the black hat as clearly as if he had been a Bible salesman at John’s front door. The (</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">dead</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">) man stopped completely and turned his ruined face to John.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was like looking into a demented kaleidoscope. John’s eyes were locked on the man’s vacant, decaying face. The small head sat low on the neck, shriveled and fallen into the shoulders as if, despite its size, it was too heavy to be held up any longer. A small, still rational part of John’s subconscious recognized that there was no earthly way that he could see this man’s face across such a great distance. But that part of his mind was fighting a losing battle with his senses, which saw the curling sneer exposing horrid, grey teeth and heard the low but unmistakable chuckle that escaped the bony chest contained within that black denim jacket. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And then the man began to move. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fast. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Faster than anything John had ever seen. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">John’s feet were encased in buckets of nearly hardened concrete and his mind began to rip hungrily through the terrors of the last few years. They were all coming true. The man he had thought he’d seen stumbling down the street late one night, the whispers in the darkness that he’d convinced himself were just the wind…. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The man wasn’t running so much as gliding. No sounds came from his colorless lips. His feet beat no echo onto the paved streets. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He made the corner, where earlier his long sedan had skated in a 180-degree turn to take the road skirting the subdivision. John stopped mid-step as the concrete around his feet hardened completely. The man stopped too. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He lifted his head. The black hat (</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">fuckingPilgrimhat)</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> slipped back on his head, and he started walking up the hill. Staring directly at John. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yellow eyes. Black pupils and veined, diseased looking irises; the man’s eyes shone with a sick yellow light that settled dimly into the mist about him. He sped up. Not gradually. All of a sudden the man was rushing towards John at an unearthly speed, devouring the distance between them while John’s mind crashed and flapped through a horror house of his own invention, every door and window in the dark funhouse opening to a dark tunnel with two hungry yellow lights at the end, barrelling towards him out of the blackness. Distance and time ceased to exist. The car door six feet away felt to John as if it never actually existed at all.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The demon bore down on John, hands slowly rising in front of him, and the panther in John’s throat finally found lungs. The scream ripped his chest open but couldn’t force its way out of his mouth, which was shut tight by the same concrete binding his feet. John tried desperately to make any sound because even if no one could hear him he wanted, he </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">needed, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">to make some noise, to go to whatever godforsaken end barrelled towards him with some final protestation. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But there was no time. The beast was before him, backlit yellow eyes clinched in pleasure and the veins standing corded in his jaundiced neck. Fifty yards, and twenty, and now John closed his eyes and braced for something which he could not fathom and threw an instant’s prayer to something else that he could not truly say he believed in. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">__</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Air. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Cold, too cold, but still, gloriously clean air jumped into John’s lungs as he gasped for it. His knuckles ached from clutching the down comforter to his chin. His eyes snapped open and took in nothing at first, but then gradually, as his breathing slowed from an express train down to a local, the ceiling of his bedroom came into dim focus in the early morning light. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was only a dream. Another horrible, soul-shattering dream, and once again John wished that his girlfriend of six years had been with him. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kristen had died two years ago, after a head-on collision with a drunk driver. She had been coming home from a late-night ice cream run in early July. A two-car crash with no survivors. It was a warm evening, and John was asleep in his parents’ house, home for a summer weekend, oblivious to the fact that his girlfriend’s life was slowly pulsing into the street less than a block away. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He shook the cobwebs from his waking mind. It was almost a nightly routine at this point. The dreams came with alarming regularity. John kept meaning to go to see someone about them, but he knew he couldn’t afford it until he found a new job. Living in his parents’ spare bedroom as a nearly 30-year-old man, John felt the nightmares that had dogged him for the past few years were the least of his problems. Besides, despite the consistency of the (</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">dead</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">) drunkard rolling through his nights, he was convinced that the man couldn’t touch him in whatever hell he now inhabited.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">John started the routine that he had developed in order to get back to sleep: he took inventory of his childhood room. It was vaguely comforting that his parents were hosting a dinner party tonight - he could hear the clink of whiskey glasses in the family room and the muted sound of chatting. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He looked to his left and counted the seven swimming trophies he had amassed as a high-school backstroker. He told himself that Kristen’s killer couldn’t reach him here. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He picked out the spines of the seven Harry Potter books that he had read countless times in the bookshelf over the couch on the lefthand wall of his room. He told himself that the man had gotten no more than what he deserved. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He adjusted his gaze and counted the six windowpanes overlooking his parents’ quiet neighborhood. The house lay at the end of a cul-de-sac, and his first-floor room faced the front of the house. Beyond the paved circle of the turnaround, the road sloped gently down into darkness - the streetlights went out automatically at midnight to help people sleep. A single electric candle sat on the windowsill, serving double duty as Christmastime decoration and nightlight. The window was cracked open a bit. That was odd. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As John sat up, he turned his weary gaze one final time, to the old wicker armchair in the far right corner of his room. The one his father would read to him from as a boy. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There was a dark shape sitting in the chair - the shape of a massive teddy bear that John had won for Kristen in a carnival basketball game years ago. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">John’s eyelids felt heavy. His room was just as he had left it a few hours ago, and the cool air from the window actually felt refreshing. He leaned back into the pillows and let sleep start to overtake him.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As his consciousness left him, John’s last perceptions found the teddy bear shape in the rocking chair changing. Elongating. The face sagging, somehow, in the half light from the electric candle. The black plastic eyes widening, yellowing, and being shot through with bloody vessels. </span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-7a7bc6b6-e518-a550-9076-bb6fbcf656a2"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A groan escaped John as the (</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">dead</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">) man smirked, raised a nearly empty bottle to his cracked lips, and began to rise from the chair.</span></span>Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-2189492564182162892014-03-17T11:37:00.001-04:002014-03-17T11:40:36.008-04:00If You Want to Win Your Bracket Challenge, Don't Read ThisIt's finally that time of year. Tourney time. When hopes, dreams, and bank accounts are seen through rose-colored glasses, only to be dashed on the cold and unforgiving rocks of truth. You'll win some, you'll lose some, and you'll absolutely lose your family pool to Great Aunt Bertha who picks the teams based on whether she knows what the mascot is or not (sorry, <a href="http://content.sportslogos.net/logos/30/645/full/2453.png">Coastal Carolina</a>, no upset for you this year).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://content.sportslogos.net/logos/30/645/full/2453.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://content.sportslogos.net/logos/30/645/full/2453.png" height="165" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apparently, a Chanticleer is a bird with a nutsack for a chin.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And along with tourney time come the projections. Now, if you only read one March Madness preview article, don't read this one. I haven't watched nearly enough college basketball this year to make predictions that can be judged as fair or accurate. I usually lose my pools in spectacular fashion. And the fact that this is the first year that I'll have a Bovada account during March Madness does not bode well for my ability to pay rent this month.<br />
<br />
Regardless, here are some fearless predictions, trends, and observations, many of which will surely be proven right, wrong, or somewhere in the middle.<br />
<br />
1. <b>Wisconsin will not make the Sweet 16</b><br />
Wisconsin is a wonderful team to have in the Big Dance, because they're always prime candidates for an upset. Since making it to the Final 4 in 2000, the Badgers have only made it to the Sweet 16 in 5 out of the 13 tournaments, despite seeming to be a top 5 seed every year. They also play NO defense this year and they have barely any athleticism. I can actually see them getting a scare from American, and I'll almost bet the rent on a 7-over-2 "upset" by the Ducks of Oregon, an athletic team that was nationally ranked for much of the season.<br />
<br />
2. <b>Take Michigan State one round further than you think.</b><br />
These first two predictions, both of Big Ten teams, are ironclad, set in stone, and as bankable as a bar of solid gold. Brought to you by the tournament handicappers of Vogel and Galloway, one of the most respected firms on the East Coast, it's just a lock that Tom Izzo will take a bunch of hardnosed, athletic, great-shooting Spartans on a Shermanesque march through the field. My gut tells me to put them into the Elite 8, which means that, per this rule, I'll be dropping them right into the Final Four. Look up their past results - all Tommy I does is romp through the tourney.<br />
<br />
3. <b>Take the under in the Harvard - Cincinnati game.</b><br />
This is a battle of two of the best defensive teams in the tournament. Cincy lets up a paltry 58 points a game, and Harvard is only slightly less stingy, allowing 60 per contest. This game will be a war down low, and though Harvard might not have the power to contend with the Bearcats, they'll keep it close, milk the clock, and drag out a low-scoring game.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://queencitysportsblog.files.wordpress.com/2013/10/university-of-cincinnati-basketball-rost-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://queencitysportsblog.files.wordpress.com/2013/10/university-of-cincinnati-basketball-rost-1.jpg" height="221" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not to mention, Cincinnati is coached by <a href="http://www.postavy.cz/obrazky/ned-schneebly-81463.jpg">Ned Schneebly</a>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
4. <b>New Mexico State will beat San Diego State</b><br />
This game is going to be awesome. San Diego State hasn't been scoring at the crazy clip that put them into the top 5 earlier in the season, after they had beaten Creighton, Marquette, and Kansas in a month(ish)long span. They beat 21st-ranked New Mexico by putting up 51, blew out a terrible Utah State team, then managed only 59 and 58 in their next two, against UNLV and New Mexico again. The Aztecs will feel like they've only played teams from New Mexico when they meet New Mexico State and 7-foot-5 Sim Bhullar. Yes, I said 7-foot-5. SDSU doesn't have anyone over 6-10. You do the math. Height > no height.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://static4.businessinsider.com/image/514b6ad4ecad047e24000003-960/sim-bhullar-blockingshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://static4.businessinsider.com/image/514b6ad4ecad047e24000003-960/sim-bhullar-blockingshot.jpg" height="320" width="173" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"FEAR ME, TINY ONE"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
5. <b>Creighton - Baylor will be an amazing game.</b><br />
Provided both teams can escape the first round, this game will be incredible to watch. Dougie McBuckets and the Blue Jays might sound like a band that Buddy Holly and the Crickets would have had to contend with for airplay on the AM dial, but in reality it's just a scrappy bunch of 3-raining white folk who wear <a href="http://31.media.tumblr.com/f93b51effb6995177a55e12859e0aa0e/tumblr_n2c2t4lcX81r3c99so1_1280.jpg">t-shirts </a>and have names like <a href="http://rushthecourt.net/mag/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/ethan-wragge-creighton.jpg">Ethan Wragge</a>. Baylor plays a lot of zone, so expect Creighton's snipers to be hoisting from deep. The Bears are no slouches themselves, setting a ton of ball screens on offense to open up looks for their shooters, most importantly noted loose butthole monocle aficionado <a href="http://static.foxsports.com/content/fscom/img/2012/03/17/031712-CBK-Baylor-Brady-Heslip-PI-AA_20120317234436516_660_320.JPG">Brady Heslip</a>. This game will be close, exciting, and high-scoring. If I were a betting man (and I am), I'm taking Creighton. They have too many shooters.<br />
<br />
6. <b>Oklahoma - North Dakota State will be a 12-5 upset.</b><br />
Usually, when faced with two teams about which I know nothing, I pick the team that came from the better conference. And I usually fail miserably. So this year I'm switching it up. No fancy analysis, no looking up stats and trying to determine which team will hit foul shots when it counts, just gut feeling. The Bison will bludgeon the Sooners. Da fuck is a Sooner anyway?<br />
<br />
7. <b>Arizona will be the only 1 seed to make the Final Four</b><br />
Their region is stupidly easy, plus every single upset I've just described happens within this region. Wisconsin, the 2 seed, will fall. Creighton, the 3 seed, could trip up against Baylor. San Diego State, the 4 seed, will lose to New Mexico State. Oklahoma, the 5 seed, will lose to North Dakota State! The whole region will be rife with upsets! And that will clear a path for Arizona straight through to Arlington.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.politicsandculture.net/images/busted-bracket-2011-ncaa-mens-basketball-tournamen1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.politicsandculture.net/images/busted-bracket-2011-ncaa-mens-basketball-tournamen1.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what people's West regions will look like.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
8. <b>Wichita State is not as weak as everyone seems to think.</b><br />
While everyone is lamenting the fact that the Midwest region is stacked and that Louisville somehow ended up with a 4 seed, the national narrative has left the Shockers undisturbed. I'm pretty sure that's good, because they're flying under the radar. I've seen a bunch of brackets that have them losing to Kentucky, and even more which have them losing to Louisville in the Sweet 16. Anyway, the Shockers are legit. Baker can rain, Early can slash, Van Vleet has a sick name, and their coach has <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gregg_Marshall">3 Gs</a> in his name, which has to count for something. Wichy to the Elite 8 is not at all out of the question.<br />
<br />
9. <b>The highest seed in the Final Four will be a 4.</b><br />
In the past few years, March truly has been Madness. Teams like Butler and Wichita State and George Mason have come from relatively nowhere to stun team after team, making runs to the Final Four which left office floors littered with torn-up-bracket confetti. This year, things will be different. Upsets will happen, as they always do. But this year's top 4 seeds, with a few notable exceptions (Villanova, San Diego State, Wisconsin) are unreal. All the 1-seeds are contenders, and many people have Louisville or Michigan State (both 4s) as champion. Add to this perennial powers like Duke, Kansas, Michigan, and .. um.. Creighton (?), and you have a recipe for a top-notch Final Four.<br />
<br />
10. <b>You will not win your bracket pool.</b><br />
And neither will I. You will lose money, respect, happiness, sleep, your cool, and your dignity. And you will love it.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://stream1.gifsoup.com/view6/4595008/adam-morrison-crying-o.gif" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You will look like this. Trust me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Let the Madness begin.Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-54214191875389672202014-03-07T14:02:00.001-05:002014-05-14T10:17:20.967-04:00Best XI: Names of the 2013-2014 English Premier LeagueThis is a bit on the late side, as the Premier League season is already sprinting to its inevitably breathless conclusion. We're somehow 28/38ths of the way done, which, of course, reduces nicely to 14/19ths.<br />
<br />
But I digress.<br />
<br />
Since its inception in 1992, the Premier League has seen players from more than <a href="http://www.sportingintelligence.com/2013/08/11/premier-leagues-global-game-hits-landmark-100th-different-foreign-nationality-110801/" target="_blank">a hundred different nations</a> suit up for its clubs. That's a lot of very foreign, and very interesting names. Some of my favorites from years past include:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Papa_Bouba_Diop" target="_blank">Papa Bouba Diop</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morten_Gamst_Pedersen" target="_blank">Morten GAMST Pedersen</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ruud_van_Nistelrooy" target="_blank">Ruud Van Nistelrooy</a><br />
<br />
Alright, enough chitter chatter. On to the Best XI: Names of the EPL. We'll be using a 4-3-3 formation because we're pressing up for maximum goals. Feast or famine with this side.<br />
<br />
<b>Goalkeeper</b><br />
<br />
G: <span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jussi_J%C3%A4%C3%A4skel%C3%A4inen" target="_blank">Jussi <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Jääskeläinen</span></a> - </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">West Ham United</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://foreverwestham.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/Jussi-Jaaskelainen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://foreverwestham.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/Jussi-Jaaskelainen.jpg" height="221" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Those thighs look awfully jussi.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
If West Ham fans don't refer to this Finn as Juicy J, then I've lost all faith in humanity. Also, LOOK at all those accent marks! The dude's last name looks like a damn daisy meadow.<br />
<div>
<br />
<b>Defenders </b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<a href="http://espnfc.com/player/_/id/85361/nacho-monreal?cc=5901" target="_blank">Nacho Monreal </a>- Arsenal</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i1.mirror.co.uk/incoming/article1567673.ece/ALTERNATES/s615/Nacho%20Monreal-1567673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i1.mirror.co.uk/incoming/article1567673.ece/ALTERNATES/s615/Nacho%20Monreal-1567673.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sip.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
I read this guy's name as "Nacho Montreal" every time, without fail. Makes me think of some fancy French-Canadian tortilla chip dish. If Ben Foster had a brother named Bananas, we could have the dessert as well as the appetizer.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://espnfc.com/player/_/id/129415/kevin-theopile-catherine?cc=5901" target="_blank">Kévin Théophile-Catherine</a></span></span> - Cardiff City</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://e2.365dm.com/13/09/800x600/kevin-theophile-catherine-cardiff-city_3010123.jpg?20130926124924" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://e2.365dm.com/13/09/800x600/kevin-theophile-catherine-cardiff-city_3010123.jpg?20130926124924" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Atomic Forearm!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
Along with having a surname composed of a Biblical term and a woman's first name, Kev here has a damn accent mark over the "e" in Kevin. How are we supposed to pronounce "Kevin" any differently? "KAYvin"? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://espnfc.com/player/_/id/7936/john-arne-riise?cc=5901" target="_blank">John Arne Riise</a> - Fulham</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/EW2d-QrnFgA" width="420"></iframe></div>
<div>
<br />
"RELEASE THE KRAKEN!"<br />
<br />
'Nuff said.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://espnfc.com/player/_/id/145468/ahmed-elmohamady?cc=5901" target="_blank">Ahmed Elmohamady</a> - Hull City<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img7.imageshack.us/img7/3645/almohammadi0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://img7.imageshack.us/img7/3645/almohammadi0.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Sandwich time for Ahmend!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Anyone with "Elmo" in their name makes the squad. No exceptions. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Midfielders</b></div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<a href="http://espnfc.com/player/_/id/108327/tom-cleverley?cc=5901" target="_blank">Tom Cleverley</a> - Manchester United</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.englandfootballblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/tom-cleverley-manchester-united.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.englandfootballblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/tom-cleverley-manchester-united.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"EW Ahmed get that sandwich outta here."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The fact that there's a midfielder named Cleverley is fantastic.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://espnfc.com/player/_/id/60503/john-mikel-obi?cc=5901" target="_blank">John Mikel Obi (Mikel)</a> - Chelsea</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://footballgalleria.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/John-Mikel-Obi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://footballgalleria.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/John-Mikel-Obi.jpg" height="196" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Rocket fart in 3.. 2.. 1...</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This dude's name is more confused than Adam Sandler in <i>50 First Dates. </i>His given name is John Michael Nchekwube Obinna. Then, in 2003, the Nigerian Football Association submitted his name on a team sheet as "Mikel" instead of "Michael." He liked the sound of that, and clearly hated his father Michael, so he just changed it permanently to Mikel. At some point, he dropped the unpronounceable N-name in the middle, as well as the end of his surname, and then switched his middle and last name, turning into the famous John Obi Mikel. Now, inexplicably, his name on team sheets appears as John Mikel Obi again, although he has stated that he <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Obi_Mikel#Personal_life" target="_blank">prefers to be called Mikel John Obi</a>.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Got all that? <br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://espnfc.com/player/_/id/69453/peter-odemwingie?cc=5901" target="_blank">Robert Snodgrass </a>- Norwich City</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://footballburp.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/robert-snodgrass-wario.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://footballburp.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/robert-snodgrass-wario.jpg" height="308" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"IT'SA ME! WAAAARIO!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Robert Snodgrass is the perfect name for a Scotsman. And that's what we have here. A red-nosed, bearded, evidently psychotic Scotsman. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Forwards</b></div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<a href="http://espnfc.com/player/_/id/69453/peter-odemwingie?cc=5901" target="_blank">Peter Odemwingie</a> - Stoke City</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://e1.365dm.com/13/08/768x432/Peter-Odemwingie-i_2993705.jpg?20140210075342" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://e1.365dm.com/13/08/768x432/Peter-Odemwingie-i_2993705.jpg?20140210075342" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Cool story bro!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This name is just fun to say. I mean, Peter is decent, but Odemwingie is tremendous. O-dem-wing-gee. Wonderful.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://espnfc.com/player/_/id/158142/sammy-ameobi?cc=5901">Sammy Ameobi</a> - Newcastle United</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i2.chroniclelive.co.uk/incoming/article1383643.ece/ALTERNATES/s615/sammy-ameobi-has-quickly-become-a-favourite-of-newcastle-united-s-supporters-72692290-1383643.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i2.chroniclelive.co.uk/incoming/article1383643.ece/ALTERNATES/s615/sammy-ameobi-has-quickly-become-a-favourite-of-newcastle-united-s-supporters-72692290-1383643.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="http://youtu.be/5Krz-dyD-UQ?t=2m29s">Psyche.</a>"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Of all the combinations of words that flow well off the tongue ("creamed corn," "buttered biscuits," "tally whacker," "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o53Rca1WZfU">playfully anti-Semitic</a>"), Sammy Ameobi is the unquestioned champion. Say that name five times and unicorns will erupt from the nearest fire hydrant.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://espnfc.com/player/_/id/124932/ricky-van-wolfswinkel?cc=5901">Ricky van Wolfswinkel</a> - Norwich City</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cdn4.celebrityhairstylez.com/wp-content/gallery/ricky-van-wolfswinkel/ricky-van-wolfswinkel-hairstyles1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn4.celebrityhairstylez.com/wp-content/gallery/ricky-van-wolfswinkel/ricky-van-wolfswinkel-hairstyles1.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Hooah! Gut punch activated!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Ricky.<br />
<div>
van. </div>
<div>
WOLFSWINKEL. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That name was destined for stardom.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Bench</b></div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
Jed Steer, Goalkeeper, Aston Villa</div>
<div>
Lee Cattermole, Midfielder, Sunderland</div>
<div>
Yussuf Mulumbu, Midfielder, West Bromwich Albion</div>
<div>
Gary Hooper, Forward, Norwich City ("Hooper drives the boat, Chief!")</div>
<div>
Adnan Januzaj, Forward, Manchester United</div>
<div>
Romelu Lukaku, Forward, Everton</div>
<div>
Gabriel Agbonlahor, Forward, Aston Villa</div>
<div>
</div>
Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-27652932884346524892014-03-06T11:34:00.000-05:002014-05-14T10:18:13.059-04:00Throwback Thursday Speculative Rip: Perry KitchenPerry Kitchen is a 22-year old soccer player with a silly fucking name. Like, seriously, Mr. and Mrs. Kitchen, your kid's last name is going to be KITCHEN. Maybe you could think about giving him a nice, normal name like John or Steve? Anything but Perry. Kid must have been teased mercilessly growing up.<br />
<br />
Regardless, he now plays for DC United in MLS. But in 2010, he was a member of the NCAA Champion Akron Zips. And he scored an absolute peach of a goal during the early rounds of the College Cup. Enjoy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/p9ujU9XcnFE" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
More like the Akron RIPS, am I right???Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3507823684101013513.post-75733049836945793602014-03-03T14:24:00.002-05:002014-03-03T14:25:23.108-05:00The Best Athlete to Wear Every Number<div>
The number that an athlete wears on the back of their jersey seems like it would be just that - a number. But it is so much more than that. Some athletes wear numbers to <a href="http://sports.yahoo.com/news/why-does-mariano-rivera-wear-no-42-205500136--mlb.html" target="_blank">pay tribute</a> to other athletes, some to honor <a href="http://929nin.com/10-things-you-did-not-know-about-michael-jordan/" target="_blank">family members</a>, and some because they have a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TFJ1O55RVQ8" target="_blank">chip on the shoulder</a> that doesn't have a handgun holstered to it.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://assets.nydailynews.com/polopoly_fs/1.460688!/img/httpImage/image.jpg_gen/derivatives/landscape_635/alg-wizards-gilbert-arenas-jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://assets.nydailynews.com/polopoly_fs/1.460688!/img/httpImage/image.jpg_gen/derivatives/landscape_635/alg-wizards-gilbert-arenas-jpg.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still not as good as Shawn Marion</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div>
Whatever the reason, athletes become attached to their numbers. There are tons of stories of players moving to a new team and paying the current wearer of the number an outrageous sum for their coveted digits. Shit, Giants punter <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2005/05/13/sports/13numbers.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0" target="_blank">Jeff Feagles</a> sold his number 10 to Eli Manning for a vacation in Florida, then sold his new number 17 to Plaxico Burress for an outdoor kitchen at his Arizona home!<br />
<br />
Obviously, numbers are a big deal. And there are a hundred and one of them in sports, starting with 00 and ending with 99.<br />
<br />
Want to know who was the best to ever wear a certain number? Scroll down.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
00 - Robert Parish</div>
<div>
0 - Shawn Marion</div>
<div>
<ol>
<li>Ozzie Smith</li>
<li>Derek Jeter</li>
<li>Babe Ruth</li>
<li>Bobby Orr</li>
<li>Joe Dimaggio</li>
<li>Bill Russell</li>
<li>John Elway</li>
<li>Cal Ripken Jr</li>
<li>Ted Williams</li>
<li>(Tie) Pele and Diego Maradona</li>
<li>Mark Messier</li>
<li>Tom Brady</li>
<li>Wilt Chamberlain</li>
<li>Pete Rose</li>
<li>Bart Starr</li>
<li>Joe Montana</li>
<li>John Havlicek</li>
<li>Peyton Manning</li>
<li>Johnny Unitas</li>
<li>Barry Sanders</li>
<li>Roberto Clemente</li>
<li>Emmitt Smith</li>
<li>Michael Jordan</li>
<li>Willie Mays</li>
<li>Barry Bonds</li>
<li>Wade Boggs</li>
<li>Carlton Fisk</li>
<li>Marshall Faulk</li>
<li>Satchel Paige</li>
<li>Martin Brodeur</li>
<li>Greg Maddux</li>
<li>Magic Johnson</li>
<li>Larry Bird</li>
<li>Bo Jackson</li>
<li>Kevin Durant</li>
<li>Jerome Bettis</li>
<li>Shawn Alexander</li>
<li>Curt Schilling</li>
<li>Dominic Hasek</li>
<li>Gale Sayers</li>
<li>Tom Seaver</li>
<li>Jackie Robinson</li>
<li>Dennis Eckersley</li>
<li>Hank Aaron</li>
<li>Pedro Martinez</li>
<li>Andy Pettitte</li>
<li>Tom Glavine</li>
<li>Daryl "Moose" Johnston</li>
<li>Ron Guidry</li>
<li>Mike Singletary</li>
<li>Dick Butkus</li>
<li>Ray Lewis</li>
<li>Don Drysdale</li>
<li>Tedy Bruschi</li>
<li>Junior Seau</li>
<li>Lawrence Taylor</li>
<li>Francisco Rodriguez</li>
<li>Jack Lambert</li>
<li>Jack Ham</li>
<li>Otto Graham</li>
<li>Josh Beckett</li>
<li>Jim Langer</li>
<li>Gene Upshaw</li>
<li>Jerry Kramer</li>
<li>Elvin Bethea</li>
<li>Mario Lemeiux</li>
<li>Bob Keuchenberg</li>
<li>Jaromir Jagr</li>
<li>Mark Schlereth</li>
<li>Sam Huff</li>
<li>George Connor</li>
<li>Carlton Fisk (yes, he is the only player on this list to appear twice). </li>
<li>John Hannah</li>
<li>Merlin Olsen</li>
<li>"Mean" Joe Green</li>
<li>Steve Hutchinson</li>
<li>Ray Borque</li>
<li>Bruce Smith</li>
<li>Roosevelt "Rosey" Brown</li>
<li>Jerry Rice</li>
<li>Dick "Night Train" Lane</li>
<li>Raymond Berry</li>
<li>Andre Reed</li>
<li>Randy Moss</li>
<li>Jack Youngblood</li>
<li>Hines Ward</li>
<li>Sidney Crosby</li>
<li>Mario Lemieux</li>
<li>Mike Ditka</li>
<li>Neil Smith</li>
<li>Sergei Fedorov</li>
<li>Reggie White</li>
<li>Doug Gilmour</li>
<li>Charles Haley</li>
<li>Richard Dent</li>
<li>Cortez Kennedy</li>
<li>Jeremy Roenick</li>
<li>Tony Siragusa</li>
<li>Wayne Gretzky</li>
</ol>
</div>
Robbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03984658653987714794noreply@blogger.com1