Saturday, Aug. 21, 2010 4 p.m.
Update
Wow, it's been a while since I showed some love to my blog. Been keeping busy doing my sports blogging for Creative Loafing Tampa.
Here's a link to the online version of my latest story to hit print.
By Kevin Tall; In print Aug. 18, 2010, Creative Loafing
The pitcher throws a curveball out of the strike zone: ball one.
Next he throws a 92 mph pitch, fouled off: strike one.
Finally, Matt Garza
throws a 91 mph, four-seam fastball and the Detroit Tigers’ Ramon
Santiago swings, sending the ball flying into right field to be caught
by the outstretched hand of the charging Ben Zobrist. Out #3.
Matt Garza has just thrown the first no-hitter in the history of the Tampa Bay Rays. He is mobbed by joyous teammates with congratulations, met first by an Evan Longoria
bear hug and, soon after that, by a man with a microphone: Todd Kalas,
the ever-smiling, ever-tanned in-game reporter for Sun Sports and Fox
Sports Florida.
For the thousands watching at home, Kalas serves as the direct link
between the fans and the team; he gives them the inside scoop before
the game, talks to the players afterwards and helps illuminate the
outcome. And as the Rays’ man in the stands, the self-described
“conduit” for a team that’s having trouble filling those stands, he
plays a role that’s potentially as important as that of the guy in the
broadcasters’ booth. Because, while attendance at the Trop remains
problematic, TV ratings for the Rays have skyrocketed: through July,
the Rays on Sun Sports are averaging a 5.7 TV household rating in the
Tampa/St. Pete market — a 73 percent increase over last year’s average
of 3.3. That means one in every 18 Bay-area folk is watching, as
opposed to 2009’s one in every 30, which was itself a jump from the
year before.
And that means one in every 18 Bay area residents is watching — and by all accounts, liking — Todd Kalas.
Yet Kalas is also something of a paradox; Rays fans feel like they
have a personal relationship with him, yet they know little about him
personally. Is his upbeat demeanor for real? What was it like entering
the baseball biz as the son of one of the most famous broadcasters
ever? And what if he were to win his dream job?
Monday, June 21, 2010; 9:45 p.m.
Update
Check out my latest links below. Click away!
Tampa Bay Rays principal owner Stuart Sternberg
finally addressed the media Monday, June 21, on the topic of a new
stadium after meeting with St. Petersburg mayor Bill Foster. Anyone who
missed the 12:15 p.m. press conference this afternoon can get a good
grasp of the goings-on from Creative Loafing’s Mitch Perry or check out the video from ABC Action News on YouTube. See them for the factual stuff; anything after this is pure fan-inspired opinion.
The bare bones of Sternberg’s statement detailed that a winning Rays
team did not improve attendance at Tropicana Field and that downtown
St. Petersburg is not a viable option for the team’s future. Sternberg
said “we must rise above municipal boundaries” – cough “leave St.
Petersburg” – and “work together for a common interest.” Speaking in
the third person, he added “Major League Baseball in the region in
Tampa Bay does not belong to Stu Sternberg. Just like it doesn’t belong
to St. Petersburg, or Tampa, or Pinellas, or Hillsborough. It is a
regional asset. It belongs to our fans in the region.” The big man
said, in essence, that we must be open to all ideas – except St.
Petersburg. Read more here.
Wow… And I thought the vuvuzelas in World Cup soccer were annoying. Okay, I’ll be honest; I thought the idea
of them was annoying. Still no World Cup for me. I actually watched a
bit of the U.S. Open Saturday and still haven’t seen the 2010 soccer
phenomenon. Anyway, the mini-horns that the Florida Marlins handed out
for Saturday night’s game against the Tampa Bay Rays
sounded like a furious swarm of mosquitoes playing over-sized kazoos
while driving out of a crowded parking garage. Congratulations on
having the most annoying promotion of 2010. Thankfully, it was an
inter-league game and I won’t have to listen to this sh!t anymore for
the rest of the year. It’s hard to believe a stadium with so few people
in attendance could make so much noise. Sun Sports viewers were
informed by Todd Kalas
that Rays’ fans were not allowed to bring cowbells into Sun Life
Stadium. Apparently only Marlins fans are allowed to bring annoying
promotional items to games in Miami, giving them a strategic monopoly
on irritation in their home park. They just kept blowing all night –
kind of like the Marlins (ZING!) – even when their own team was in
critical parts of the game. Clearly they should have been given a
lesson on manners, perhaps a primer on cowbell etiquette?
But I suppose when the idea behind the promotional item is to be crass
and obnoxious rather than fun and engaging, etiquette and intelligent,
considerate use are pretty silly things for which to wish. Anyway,
there was apparently a baseball game played last night amid all of
this. It was a pretty good game too, so enough bitching.
It was a weird one in south Florida Saturday night, and a long one. In a game that saw Rays’ pitcher James Shields
make his first career relief appearance, the Bay-area boys beat the
Marlins 9-8 in an 11-inning nail-biter. Despite the above cheap shot,
the Marlins did not blow in Saturday night’s game, but the game went
into extra innings courtesy of a Rays eighth-inning defensive implosion
rather than exemplary play on behalf of the home team. This time of
self-destruction saw Randy Choate hit Chris Coghlan with a pitch and
Dan Wheeler give up two doubles to take the erstwhile 5-2 game to 5-4.
Errors by Jason Bartlett and Evan Longoria allowed an extra base runner
and an extra run to score; Longoria’s misplay could have been an
inning-ending double play but instead it tied a game that could/should
have easily been won in regulation. Read more here.
Saturday, June 19, 2010; 9 p.m.
Update
In all my excitement recently, I've neglected to update my blog.
I am now blogging for Tampa's alternative weekly, Creative Loafing, helping them start building a larger sports presence. Here are links to my first four pieces plus a link to my contributor page. Please show me the click love.
Posted by Kevin Tall on Jun. 19, 2010, at 12:16 am
Yet another game over in the first inning. The Tampa Bay Rays came out strong Friday night, scoring two runs in the top of the first inning on an almost-home-run double by Big Ben Zobrist
that brought in Carl Crawford and Carlos Pena, but then the Florida
Marlins got theirs, in a big way. Chris Coghlan doubled to start the
bottom of the first and then the Rays’ starter, Matt Garza,
walked Hanley Ramirez. With two outs, he then walked Dan Uggla and Cody
Ross to bring in a run. Next, rookie Mike Stanton cracked his first
career grand-slam to erase the Rays’ momentum and score what would be
the winning run.
Attention Matt Garza: your wife called; she said you left your arm at home!
Posted by Kevin Tall on Jun. 18, 2010, at 12:40 am Starting pitching again ruled the day as the Tampa Bay Rays dropped their second game to the Atlanta Braves, 3-1. In an outing that played out like a chess match, Tampa’s James Shields
put up a valiant effort, but in the end succumbed to Atlanta’s Grand
Master, Tommy Hudson. The game was rain-delayed but apparently not long
enough to inspire the 10-run shellacking the Rays tuned the Braves up
with Tuesday night. I suppose the duration of a given rain delay needs
to stretch at least into an hour to get the offense primed.
Those tuning in on Sun Sports may have heard announcer Brian Anderson
talk about Hudson’s propensity for getting hitters to ground out and he
delivered as advertised, getting 15 outs on ground balls, including a
double play. Hudson also picked off B.J. Upton at first and nearly did the same to Carl Crawford, who ended up getting caught stealing. Atlanta’s ace gave up only one run on four hits, with Crawford scoring on Carlos Pena’s
two-out single in the fourth inning. One run through four innings may
not seem like much but it’s a windfall in games like this one. The Rays
weren’t able to build off of it, however, as Jason Heyward hit a deep
home run in the bottom of the frame to squash any potential momentum.
The Braves got to Shields twice more in the sixth to take the lead for
the remainder of the game after manager Joe Maddon intentionally loaded the bases and Braves 1B Troy Glaus dropped a hit just out of Ben Zobrist’s
reach in shallow right. To be honest, he made bad contact on a good
pitch from Shields, but sometimes that’s the way things happen.
They waited until there were two outs in the ninth inning, but the Tampa Bay Rays
avoided being shut out by the Atlanta Braves Wednesday night, losing
6-2 (this entry had originally been titled “Braves blank Rays” but I
suppose they felt the need to spite me for being pre-emptive; I’m
always happy to be proven wrong). It was an evening decided early. It
was an evening decided by starting pitching. It was an evening where
the Rays’ bats must have decided to get some rest, and anyone who
stayed up to watch all of Tuesday’s game should have done the same, as
the Bay area boys fell 6-2 to the Braves to bring the three-game series
even at a game apiece.
In stark contrast to Tuesday’s outing, the Rays went down 1-2-3 to start the first inning with a whimper; Read more here.
“I don’t understand why there is a delay, and I have to complain ‘cause there’s no rain.”
Sorry, Blind Melon moment. The Atlanta Braves did a rain dance and the Tampa Bay Rays did a victory dance in Tuesday night/Wednesday morning’s inter-league action as David Pricepicked up his 10th win of the season with Tampa Bay cruising to a 10-4
victory. Fans who tuned into the game were treated to a rain delay more
than two hours long, with most of the first hour spent waiting in
anticipation of actual rain. The worst thing about sitting through the
weather delay was the entertainment on Sun Sports. “Inside the Rays” is
pretty interesting most of the time, but then came the surfing
programs; they were so mind-numbing I’d have rather watched World Cup
soccer while waiting for the game to start… Okay, so maybe the surfing
wasn’tthat bad. Viewers also got to watch Todd Kalas get
pelted by sunflower seeds by a player out of frame as he interviewed
Bobby Ramos, the Rays’ bullpen coach. Oh, those rain delay antics.
Saturday, June 12, 2010 9 a.m.
Sports
The Tampa Bay Rays’ starter James
Shields yielded 9 runs in three and a third innings Friday as the team fell
14-9, giving the first game of the Citrus Series to the Florida Marlins.
Shields, winless in his previous four starts, got in trouble early, letting the
first two hitters aboard but escaping the first inning down only one run. After
closing out the top of the second 1-2-3, he walked the first two batters of the
third inning before muffing a bare-hand attempt to throw out the bunting Gaby
Sanchez to load the bases. The Marlins ended up scoring five runs in the third
frame, four in the fourth, one in the fifth and three in the seventh, with
Shields responsible for 10 out of 14 runs. Read more.
Friday, June 11, 2010 4:45 p.m.
Sports
Okay, I have to say it: Toronto Blue Jays’ pitchers Brett Cecil and
Kevin Gregg both bear an uncanny resemblance to Neil Perry, the oedipal
serial killer poseur from season one of Dexter.
It's freaking me out. In addition to resembling the creepy amateur
taxidermist, they share another thing in common: none of them are
killers. While Tampa Bay Rays
skipper Joe Maddon praised the starter Cecil in the post-game press
conference, neither pitcher threw well enough for me to say they won
the game; I think the Rays simply lost it with a lack of offense,
falling 3-2 to miss out on sweeping Toronto at Tropicana Field.
In a game that saw long-time fan Dick Vitale hit by a foul ball,
the Rays seemed to have run out of hits last night, with quiet bats
through eight innings, scoring one run on four hits with Carlos Pena’s
solo shot in the second their only tally. Sean Rodriguez provided a
glimmer of hope with a lead-off homer to start the ninth but ultimately
the Rays came up short when Hank Blalock struck out, stranding the
pinch-running Carl Crawford in scoring position on second base.
Friday, June 11, 2010 4 p.m.
Sports
Is former Detroit Red Wings stalwart Steve Yzerman the man to save the Bolts? Y not?
By Kevin Tall
At
the press conference to announce Yzerman as the Tampa Bay Lightning’s
new general manager a few weeks ago, owner Jeff Vinik said he was
excited to introduce him; Stevie Y himself was excited to be there, and
indeed I am excited as well, as should be all Hockey Bay fans. It’s the
beginning of a turnaround; we replaced a zero with a hero and the
sinking ship will right itself.
Sunday, May 2, 2010 11 p.m.
Arts and Entertainment
Album review:
Alice in Chains, Black Gives Way to Blue
Yeah, so I’m a little late to the game reviewing an album
that came out in September, 2009.
The thing is, until recently, I'd refused to listen to the content. To
make it simple, I was unwilling to accept the idea of a band calling themselves
Alice in Chains that didn’t have Layne Staley on vocals. See attached show
review for a better explanation why.
Anyway, I’ve been convinced to check it out, so check
out what I have to say:
The album starts off on a grand scale. “All Secrets Known” lets the listener
bear witness to the construction of an epic musical architecture that grows in
one’s mind. While lacking any
orchestral elements, it’s reminiscent of a symphonic masterpiece.
Enter the droning wail of “Check My Brain.” The chorus has the signature Alice in
Chains harmonized vocals and it hits like a burst of bright sunshine during the most dismal storm you can imagine. It’s a mixture of stylings from various
AIC albums that feels like a refined return to form. I can’t claim familiarity with any of the other nominees,
but I can definitely agree with the nod from the Grammy’s.
Track 3, “Last of my Kind,” gives us the first real peek at
new lead singer William DuVall. He
delivers a snarling swagger that perfectly complements Jerry Cantrell’s crunchy
guitar work.
On the lighter side are “Your Decision” and the title track,
“Black Gives Way to Blue.” “Your
Decision” is radio-ready, with a tenderness reminiscent of “Nutshell” and the
more upbeat “No Excuses” from Jar of Flies. “Black Gives Way to Blue” is laced with a yearning, mournful
guitar that recalls the final piteous note of the solo from “Nutshell.”
It’s pretty clear that Cantrell, the principal songwriter,
has not reinvented himself, which is a good thing, conversely to what one might
think. He’s done plenty of solo material that branched out it different
directions, but it’s nice to hear him get back to what he does best.
My one complaint is that DuVall isn’t really given a chance
to shine on vocals. Cantrell
dominates on several songs or they feature shared vocal duties. I realize the vocal harmonies are an
integral part of the AIC sound but stop vox-blocking the kid. You made him a part of the band so you
need to let him make it his own.
It’s no coincidence that the songs in which he’s allowed to showcase his
talents – namely, “Private Hell” and “Last of My Kind” – are some of the best
on the album. Back off a bit,
Jerry, and let the man work.
All in all, the album is great, much better than I expected
considering my predisposition to absolutely hate it. Critically, it received a few
tepid reviews, specifically from SPIN’s Kenny Herzog, who clocked it in at a
mediocre two and a half stars out of five. He suggests that Cantrell should
have assumed the vocal lead, insisting that DuVall serves as only a
“serviceable Staley impressionist.” Had he paid a bit more attention to the
album, i.e. actually listening to it, he’d have realized that Jerry serves as
lead vocalist in practically everything except title. While normally not one
for giving too much credence to the vox populi, it’s pretty entertaining to
read the Alice faithful lambaste him in the comments of his article. I’ll
repeat my request from the live show review: record a live album with Duvall.
Any exposure to Duvall’s live performance will shut up hacks like Herzog.
It managed to silence my nay-saying, which says quite a bit.
Sunday, April 24, 2010 4:30 p.m.
Arts and Entertainment
The New Man in the Box
William DuVall fills some massive vocal shoes as the
frontman for 90s favorite Alice in Chains.
I must say, the idea of a new singer for grunge/alt-metal legends Alice
in Chains never sat well with me.
It’s fair to say that the music I grew up listening to is one of the few
things I hold sacred in this post-modern world, and AIC would definitely be
canonized for sainthood in my Church of Rock. I hold a guitar autographed by
guitarist Jerry Cantrell as one of my prized possessions and the group gets
regular play on my iPod, almost 20 years after the release of their first
album, Facelift.
I was very impressed with William DuVall’s performance at last night’s
98Rockfest in Tampa, Fla., which the reformed AIC headlined. I must say he turned in quite possibly
the most inspired, dynamic vocal performance I’ve had the privilege to see
live. This guy is the real deal and I’ve been convinced to purchase the band’s
new material on the strength of his vocal performance alone. But let’s get back to why I was sure
I’d absolutely hate him.
With the death of Layne Staley in April, 2002, it seemed I would never
get to see one of my favorite bands live. Then, in 2005, Alice hit the road for
somewhat of a reunion tour with singer William DuVall filling in for
vocals. Somehow, the idea of this
guy coming out of nowhere to usurp the throne of my favorite vocalist of all
time seemed almost worse than the man’s death. I never got to see that tour so I filed it under “H” for
“Heresy” and promptly forgot about it.
In the daze of days since, I heard rumblings about the group recording
new material. This sat about as well with me as the idea of a reunion without
the deceased Staley. Fortunately, I avoid FM radio like shopping malls on Black
Friday, so I never had to bear the thought of hearing it and it soon faded from
my consciousness.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. I’m at a Tampa Bay Lightning hockey
game and I got to go onto the ice during the first intermission as one of the
contestants to compete in a shoot-and-recycle relay type of thing. From this
fray I emerged victorious and my bounty was tickets for the then-upcoming
98Rockfest, April 24, 2010. After hours of muttered griping about having rather
won an autographed stick or some other memorabilia than tickets to a show I was
sure I wouldn’t want to see, I resigned myself to the idea of taking advantage
of the opportunity for a free night out. And who should happen to be headlining
this event? The now-touring new version of my beloved Alice in Chains, with
DuVall on vocals.
I checked out the bill for the event and confirmed my worst fears: this
was not an event I was looking forward to. Sheer morbid curiosity got me in for AIC but in order to see
the headliner, I’d have to put up with supporting acts like Limp Bizkit and
Puddle of Mudd, outfits I consider to be glorified musical excrement. I am a fan of Sevendust, so there was
another tolerable act on the bill, which was rounded out by a
Frankenstein-“super” group called HellYeah, comprised of Vinnie Paul from
Pantera and some of the guys from Mudvayne. Ick. To be fair, I didn’t see the
band live, nor have I heard their studio material, but when you’ve got a song
entitled “Alcohaulin' Ass,” there’s not limit to your potential mediocrity.
Well, last night came around sooner than expected. I met a buddy of mine
at Hattricks for some wings and beer before the show. We arrived at the St. Pete Times Forum a little bit after Sevendust was supposed to go
on, but fortunately they were running a bit behind and we ended up getting to
see their set, which was unfortunately only six songs long. They opened up strong with “Black” the
most popular song from their self-titled first album. The evening started looking up. I’m intimately familiar with their catalog through their
first 4 studio albums. Then
guitarist Clint Lowery left to join Dark New Day with his brother Corey, and I
wasn’t impressed with the band’s next effort with Sonny Mayo slingin’ the
six-string. The group played some
newer material, which I of course did not know, with my reticence to partake of
the local airwaves. Their set was
over before it even began, and I look to my compatriot with an expression of
disappointment mixed with the urge to run for the hills.
We promptly exited the arena to the designated smoking area outside. I
picked up a Guinness on the way and we each smoked a magnificent Cuban Cohiba
Esplendido – I know a guy who knows a guy. If nothing else, this event was a great opportunity to
people-watch, examining the local gentry for the slightest hint of independent
culture or free thinking. Here we surveyed
weekend-warrior frat boys with their Light Beer, khaki shorts and loafers mixed
with what seemed to be the balance of the trailer park population of the Bay
Area. I’m sure this makes me sound like an elitist jackass, but as a journalist it’s
my duty to report my observations, snide though they may be. This is the type of crowd the events
sponsored by this station seem to attract, but as long as people were having
fun, I didn’t really care if they were drugged-out morons.
Fortunately, this cigar lasted me through the entire duration of Puddle
of Mudd’s set. As we had stood in approximately the same area for an hour or
so, one of my fellow concertgoers seemed to notice us being in the exact same
place as when he’d gone back inside. “That must be a damn fine cigar,” he
observed, and I confirmed that it was, but also informed him that even if it
was the worst cigar I’d ever smoked, it would have been preferable to experiencing
the type of musical stylings that make me want to gouge my eardrums with a tire
rasp. I don’t “do it all for the
nookie,” or “love the way you smack my ass;” it’s my opinion that the thing
that should “drift and die” is that band’s musical career and I firmly believe
that the performance lineup is the only thing that should have been
“rearranged.” Okay, I think I’ve
got in enough of what I consider to be clever shots at Wes Scantlin and Fred
Durst’s respective bands for the duration of my writing. Let’s try focusing on
the positives (Full disclosure: While I have never been an LB fan, I did own
and seem to enjoy POM’s first album but fortunately we don’t stay in high
school forever; I’m a firm believer in the principle of fair comment and in no
way am I trying to represent a critique of either band’s live performance,
simply the material that I’ve heard to date).
From the opening note of their set Alice in Chains teleported the crowd
back about a decade and a half to the pinnacle of radio rock. Their set was decidedly Dirt-heavy,
which makes sense, as it seems to be the most popular if not best album they’ve
ever produced – personally I hold each of their efforts in equal esteem and like
them for different reasons, but I can’t deny that this is the release with
which I’m most familiar on a song-by-song basis. Cantrell, bassist Mike Inez, and drummer Sean Kinney sounded
like they’ve been playing every day since he band’s inception, instrumentally
polished with a thoroughly satisfying recreation of the notes they laid down in
the studio. Having seen the band
perform acoustically on MTV’s Unplugged, DuVall was the only unknown quantity
to me. He assuaged my every fear
and has made a lifetime fan of me with the glorious sound he produced with his
voice. The band dipped deep into
their repertoire, with songs from early albums prevalent in their set; they
played the three opening tracks from Dirt – “Them Bones,” “Dam That River,”
and an incredible version of “Rain When I Die” – in succession, much to my
delight. The crowd was also gifted
with live performances of radio-favorites “Would?” and “Rooster,” written about
Cantrell’s father’s experience in the Vietnam War and dedicated to the troops
in attendance and around the world.
Judging by the power of his pipes, DuVall has every ability to recreate,
note for note, the vocal performances Staley has had resonating in the American
Rock culture for two decades. But
he seems perfectly comfortable trying to make these songs his own, as he should
be based on his incredible abilities.
“The only way to do any music is to be yourself. Of course,
that is a tricky thing when you’re dealing with material that’s that well-known
and that’s that intense and personal in a lot of ways. Especially a lot of
Layne’s songs on Dirt,” he told Andy Hermann of Metromix in a Q&A
published here.
Listening to DuVall positively attack hits like “Again” and Facelift's “We Die Young,” you get the feeling he performs with the type of
intensity and ferocity of a late-round draft pick fighting to make the team (check this YouTube video for a good example of what I mean; just that little extra he puts into the screaming part before the chorus puts a new dynamic on the song) . I
have to say he made a believer out of me by adding a new dimension to songs I
know by heart. The new material – “Acid Bubble,” “Your Decision,” and “Check My
Brain” from 2009’s Black Gives Way to Blue – sounds promising, even with the St. Pete Times Forum’s
horrible acoustics. DuVall is an engaging front man with an excitement about
him that’s both palpable and contagious. It’s like he’s living the dream, which
quite likely he is indeed; perhaps he never aspired to take over the reins of
another man’s band but his inspired vocal performance is sure to win new fans
and convert cranky old die-hards like myself across the world. I have one request of the band
regarding lead singer William DuVall: record a live album, because I’d love to
have the opportunity to hear him explore the band’s hallowed history and give
me a new perspective on life, music, and the ubiquitous soundtrack to my
awkward teenage years.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
3 p.m.
2010 Tour De Can’ts Vol. IV
Can’t focus so well…: So based on the fact that I got done riding 35 miles on a
bicycle slightly more than 3 hours ago, you can imagine I’m pretty much
exhausted. I don’t think I’m
getting enough oxygen to my brain or something, so this will probably be rather
brief, but I feel I owe it to everyone who was gracious and generous enough to
contribute to my fundraising cause.
All told I have raised $820 to date (for those who have not donated, I’ll
still gladly accept belated offerings).
I would like to take the opportunity to thank everyone who helped me out
and made it worth doing.
Individual shoutouts will come when I update...
Can’t imagine feeling better!:
WOW! So somehow I’m ridiculously sore, to the point that the
slightest move brings sheer agony, but I feel fan-frickin’-tastic. The ride is in the bag and I’m at home
typing, having just got out of the hot tub and on my way to a nice nap.
For those of you wondering about my
little competition with Randy, I finished first – a nice way of saying I won –
but the real winners are those fighting diabetes and the American Diabetes
Association, who put on a classy event with lots of tasty food. They did a great job of taking care of
the riders. Besides one moron who
apparently did the entire ride sans helmet – AND with headphones in! – everyone
who participated was pretty awesome as well. I think the best part was the cheering each rider got when
they came in. It was wonderful to
hear my name being called out by my mom, Melissa, and Drakenstein as I made the
final turn. I have a big, dumb
grin on my face thinking about it now.
The ride itself was quite the challenge. They gave us the route in advance, but
the Google Maps type of layout you get to look at doesn’t exactly prepare you
for things like BRIDGES. Holy
…. Not fun. To be honest, they weren’t so bad once
you’re on and ascending, but they are ridiculously intimidating as you approach
them.
Speaking of bridges, that was where we met our first of
several groups of inconsiderate drivers.
The very first bridge, some jerk decides he wants to pass a sizeable
pack of cyclists, one of whom was me.
It’s a two-lane bridge, one for us and one for those going the opposite
direction. So this guy goes around
and has the nerve to honk at the cyclists when he has to swerve back into the
lane because – guess what? – a whole line of cars were going the opposite
direction and just so happened to want to use their lane. It’s amazing how people want to shift
the blame for their own impatience to a group of people who raised more than
$80,000 dollars for a charity and were out on the road showing their support.
All in all it was a great experience, and I might get around
to typing some more about it sooner or later, but right now I need sleep in the
worst of ways. Check out the
pictures – I’m told each is worth a thousand words so that should help make up
for the short entry.
Photo Gallery
Got my game face on.
Posing by the Tour De Cure banner.
A pic with my own personal cheering section.
It's almost time...
And we're off!
Me coming in. Sorry there's no dramatic finish line.
I would have liked one.
Ahhh, victory. Call me crazy but nothing sounded better than a Guinness after riding 35 miles, so I brought 2.
Friday, Feb. 20, 2010 3 p.m.
2010 Tour De Can’ts Vol. III
Can’t excuse my laziness!
Shame on me!
Mea culpa, lo siento, I’m sorry. I
skipped a week and have not managed to update lately. My evenings are comprised of cooking and managing the
monster – no, I’m not “cooking the monster,” 2 separate activities – and the
little down time I get I enjoy spending with my loved ones. However, that reason doesn’t even
satisfy me, because some special people deserve some special recognition for
their donations, so shout outs to follow soon. First let me recap my cycling life since last I blogged.
Can’t anything go right?
So last
Saturday wasn’t the greatest of days on the bike. The hydration pack I purchased started leaking down my back
before I left the house. Mind you,
it was 40-degrees Fahrenheit weather last Saturday, so that provided me with
instant discomfort. That water
system has since been returned and a Bell biking hydration pack now serves as
its replacement. So far, no
complaints. Next problem
was my steering. In general, my
bike was riding like it got hit by a car, and I think I would have remembered
that kind of collision. At some
point it met the ground in a less than favorable fashion and jarred tons of
things loose. My steering was
one. I was biking with Randy, as usual. On our way to the main loop
of the Flatwoods park, I noticed that while I was riding straight, my
handlebars were about 10 degrees left.
That kind of thing messes with you and prevents any serious work. So when I got to the main loop, I
dismounted and held the front wheel in place between my legs and feet and
turned the handlebars until they were in line with the wheel. The fact that it was that easy to fix
was rather disconcerting because it meant it could get screwed up again with
the very same ease. While the
situation was easily solved – Randy had hex keys in the car to tighten the
right bolt and remedy the situation – I wasn’t about to ride more than 2 miles
back to the parking lot; we were due to join my mom, Melissa and Drakenstein at
my grandfather’s condo to clean it for him and I didn’t want to delay that
activity, as miserable as I knew it would be.
So now I’m in
my first of three planned trips around the 7-mile loop. The entire bike feels screwy to
me. My seat shifts when I unclip
from my pedals, which may not be a big deal but it’s a pain and one small piece
of a bigger picture. As I was
pedaling, my left leg felt like it was working harder than the right one. In all likelihood, this was all in my
head, but it was one more uncomfortable item added to my mental checklist,
which was growing at an alarming rate.
At that point I decided I wasn’t going to get any serious cycling done
that day and instead went for a more leisurely pace to allow my muscles to get
good and loose. Side note: while
it may not have been at such an intense rate, 25 miles is 25 miles. Any
accusations of laziness had better be backed up with how far and hard YOU rode last
week.
So I’m
riding along on my bike, which is handling like it just went through a giant
garbage disposal. I let Randy
catch up, update him on my equipment status, and we keep pace for the rest of
the loop. Out of nowhere, three
jerks wearing matching team gear - Simon Says cycling jerseys - zoom past us on the left, unheralded by any
form of warning. For those of you
unfamiliar with cycling etiquette, it is customary to stay to the right and
pass on the left. When you pass,
you need to let the person you’re overtaking know so they can stay on line and
help facilitate a safe pass. It’s
unwritten but it’s also common sense and common courtesy – neither of which are
actually too common – to give someone a heads-up that you’ll be in their sphere
of influence soon. Now I have no
problem with anyone using this park for training and if they have a team, the
more the merrier, as they say. But
by its original purpose, Flatwoods is a recreational area, not a training
facility. If you want to use it as
such, don’t be a jackass by executing high-speed passes on slower cyclists
unannounced, especially not when you have an entire team behind you. The lead man needs to call a pass; it’s
that simple.
On the topic
of people totally lacking in consideration, we found, shortly afterward during
that same first loop, a piece of dog poop on the track. Sure, people are entitled to walk their
dogs in public rec parks. They
still need to clean up after their animals. While I am no fan of dogs, the problem here is the owner,
who I really wish I could have met and chewed out. I spent the next loop and a half with my jaw clenched. So I’m in my
last loop and decide to do some real pedaling, despite the inherent risk of
tumbling on my bike, which now feels like it’s being held together by rubber
bands. Halfway through the final
trip around, someone with a sit-down cycle – I don’t know what they’re properly
called but a Google Image search of “reclining bike” yielded this picture – and
he is yet another inconsiderate jerk at Flatwoods on that given day. I see him overtake Randy – who I was
allowing to lead to lull him into a false sense of confidence – and I see Randy
do a double take at this contraption that crept into his periphery. The guy didn’t call out his pass, and
he had no sense of urgency in his pass, which is also uncool. If you’re overtaking someone, you’re
supposed to do it with some efficiency.
In an actual race you’ll get a time penalty for failing to do so.
I catch up
with Randy and we jaw about this latest in a string of prickish people. I decide it’s time to work and pass
Randy, the recliner guy, and a red-jerseyed cyclist. I get a pretty good lead and take out my trusty water
bottle. I drink a bit of the ol’ H2O
and go to replace my bottle, which I promptly drop on the ground and watch skid
to a stop as I brake to retrieve it, all the while looking and feeling like an
idiot. The three aforementioned
cyclists pass me and Randy laughs, asking if I dropped it, which I felt should
have been rather obvious. I
bellowed something to the effect that it was the only way that he would ever
pass me, got back on, and resumed my ride. I passed Randy, shot him an I-told-you-so grin, and finished
the rest of my ride at as brisk a pace as the rest of the population would let
me, which was not as fast as I would have liked. All in all it was a rather
obnoxious venture full of mishaps and miscues.Author’s note:
original working title for this installment was “Can’t imagine a worse day
cycling,” but in all honesty, I can.
For example, had Randy actually run over the dog turd that was in the
bike path and sprayed canine feces behind his bike i.e. at me, that would have
been much worse. I’m sure there
are more ways as well.
Can’t believe I wrote that much:
Anyone who
knows me knows that brevity is not one of my strengths when I have something I
really want to say, but I just realized I’m hovering just below two
single-spaced pages in my document and I haven't thanked anyone yet. Hopefully this extra-long entry will
make up for its lateness.
Can’t believe it!
So shortly
after my last post, I met my original fundraising goal of $500. My darling Melissa’s father, Tim
Grimes, is the generous individual who put me over the top, so a big thank you
to him! I must also express my
gratitude to Giselle Guillory, Angela Irwin, the awesome ladies of the Hickory
Hill Women's Club, Denny Ray Bowser and Diane Pickett, who made my day by
ringing the doorbell as I was typing out the above list of complaints and
handing me an envelope with her contribution. Her husband is diabetic, so I will ride and keep him in my
thoughts.
I am now up to $705, so close to my new $750 goal. Get me there, so I can set my sights on
$1000! I consider this constant
readjustment to be good-natured greed.
It’s not like it’s going in my pocket, although if all you people want
to be equally generous in donating to the Pay Off Kevin’s Student Loans Charity
Ride, I’d love that idea! Just
kidding, but seriously…
Thursday, Feb. 11, 2010 11 p.m.
2010 Tour De Can’ts Vol. II
Not much to say, if you can believe that. Really tired but I thought I owed the
world an update and I definitely owe some people a big thank you as well.
Can’t afford to take time off: I did the 25 mile road ride almost 2 weeks ago. Last weekend was time with the sweetie
and the booger then Superbowl Sunday of course. Thursday is the first day in almost a fortnight that I’ve
managed to find a way to exercise.
Went to spin and put a lot into it. I’ve noticed I’m having a much easier time so I had to ramp
up the resistance level on my bike and go for a higher rpm. I had wanted to stay for two, but the
steak and goat cheese spinach salad I’d eaten for lunch made that decision for
me. This Saturday makes the race 3
weeks away. I have to admit I’m
getting a little intimidated. Not
that I won’t finish or that I’ll get injured or that I’ll lose, since it’s not
a race – although Randy and I do have a friendly competition going (he will be
smoked). It’s just some looming
apprehension about nothing in particular.
Better just ignore it and keep on pedaling; there are people who are
facing worse things in the world than jitters before a charity ride.
Can’t believe I’m almost there!
As of typing this, I’m more than 90 percent of the way
toward my fundraising goal. If it keeps going this well, I might have to raise
my cap and ask for more (Just kidding. Ok, I’m not kidding, I probably will.
It’s for a good cause, folks!).
Names must be dropped for all the world to see – or at least the few
people who read this. Hopefully some of the awesomely generous people out there
will see their names and enjoy the notoriety they receive from being
name-dropped on the blog for my online portfolio.
Thanks go out to Cynthia Paulhus, Beth Carey, Karen Morris,
Francine Watts, Donna Belcher, my father Tony Tall, and Halon Woody Bodden. You
guys rock! Thank you so much for your generous contributions. I might be doing
the hard work, but you guys make it worthwhile so come rain, hail sleet or snow
I know I’ll finish that ride. And then get a job for the U.S. postal Service,
apparently. Although, if I recall correctly, that’s who Lance Armstrong rode
for. Not bad as far as inspiration goes – but I’m going to have to talk to him
about the whole “Michelob Ultra” endorsement thing. Not cool.
Saturday, Jan. 30, 2010 11 p.m.
Wow… So as soon as I decide to create this feature, I get a
day job that turns me into a total office zombie, utterly lacking in the
creative energy to update it with content on a reasonable basis. I find it
sadly ironic that my position as a Web Content Writer is sapping my energy to
the point that I can’t properly maintain my own virtual presence.
With this entry I’m going to try something new. Instead of
some bleak diatribe about my obscure insights into culture or the human
condition (believe me, a rant about redundant language like “ATM Machine” and
“LCD display” is cooking on the back burner of the frontal lobe), here’s
something about hope, triumph, and my experience trying to better myself while
helping others.
I decided a little late in the game to do a blog series
about my participation in the 2010 Tour De Cure, a cycling event to raise money
for the American Diabetes Association.
Here is my latest verbal venture:
2010 Tour De Can’ts
Can’t believe I’m telling you this: The idea behind my Web site is to serve
as an online portfolio for prospective employers to see my journalistic
work. I incorporated the blog as a
way to keep writing if I came into a drought in published work; this wasn’t
intended to be something personal but a chance to share my thoughts, not my
experiences. Then I took a look at the content on my site and realized my best
writing is about people and their experiences. Personality profiles are my
specialty, whether by some unique insight into humanity or some rather fortunate
coincidences involving words strung together. So if I’m going to have a blog,
why not write about what I have going on? The Tour De Cure seemed like the
perfect fit. The Tour De Can’ts title plays to my incessant need for verbal
irony and to try to be clever. It also serves as a structure around which to
build an allegory, so each entry in this series will be about something I can’t
do, hence the bolded phrase at the beginning of this paragraph.
Can’t believe I’m this sore: Some of you who know me know I’ve
been doing spin classes at the YMCA for a few months trying to get into
shape. My parents asked if I would
be interested in doing the charity ride, since I’ve gotten the hang of cycling. My step-dad, Randy, agreed to ride with
me and we decided to do the 25-mile version of the event.
Upon trying to register, we found that the 25-mile event was
not in existence. My previous
competitive cycling maxed out at the 10-mile cycling portion of a couple of
team triathlons I did with my brother and Randy. Twenty-five miles seemed pretty daunting, but anything less
didn’t seem like enough. Now it
was not an option. It was my idea
to take a step UP the ladder and the next mileage increment was 35 miles, 350
percent of the furthest distance I had ever ridden in serious cycling.
Today I did a training ride at the Flatwoods outdoor track
in Tampa. It is a 7-mile loop for
cycling, rollerblading and other recreation. There is also a 2-mile offshoot to Bruce B. Downs Blvd. so
you can stage your distance a couple of ways. Today I shot for 25 miles, not actually thinking about the
fact that was my original goal.
WOW… My legs are still on fire, 11 hours after I finished riding. But it’s a good thing. I feel great
because I know I can do it and I know that I’ll be able to knock out 35 miles
with ease come March 7. My physical discomfort is more than offset by the pride
I feel knowing I’m going to accomplish something great, a challenge lain unto
me, and a chance to help others at the same time… speaking of answering a
challenge…
Can’t forget to thank: Theresa Jones, Saundra Floto Nugent,
Lori Fitzpatrick, Robert Norberg, and my darling Melissa Grimes. These are the wonderful people who have
already answered the call to sponsor me and help me reach my $500 fundraising
goal. Thank you so much for giving
me the energy to torture myself on the open road for the benefit of
others. That may have sounded
cynical, but it was not. Your thoughtful
donations make what I’m doing, no matter how much discomfort it brings me,
worth every bit or soreness. THANK YOU!
Check out http://main.diabetes.org/goto/kevintall
to see my personal Web page on the ADA site and sponsor me. I am very excited
at the opportunity to help others, especially those afflicted with this malady.
I am looking for help. My goal is to raise $500 for the event. Every bit helps.
It’s never too early to get started on charitable deductions for the fiscal
year. Donating is easy; just go check out my Web page on the ADA site. Click on the button to sponsor me and
help out me and others.
I know times are tough and will completely understand if
some of you cannot contribute. To
those I simply ask that you go to the link and check it out. After looking at it, pass it along to people
you know who might be interested in helping out. Every little bit counts. I'd
very much appreciate it and it's for a good cause but under no circumstances
should anyone feel pressured to donate. Just check it out, please.
Monday, Nov. 30, 2009; 12:30 p.m.
Well I've decided to add a blog feature to my Web site in order to communicate what's going on with me and how I am doing, in addition to giving me an outlet and getting my voice out there, so enjoy!
Today's entry will be short, because I'm busy looking for a job (so anyone who happens to read this, help me out if you can).
Tampa Bay sports are business as usual. The Bolts are looking to get some tallies in the W column, maybe even in regulation, who knows? The Bulls are in the tail-end of their usual second-half slump, having just fallen to Miami over the weekend. They didn't even show up on either side of the ball. Looks like another trip to the St. Pete Bowl or Papa John's. And of course the Bucs managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. One Buc Place looks like a fire sale, except I don't think anyone's buying anytime soon.
I hope everyone had a good holiday, filled with friends, family, and fun. Sometimes the holidays bring out the best in people as a whole but the worst out of individuals. Do your part to change that!
Today's wisdom: "Neither common sense nor common courtesy are actually too common. If you're not part of the solution, you're a part of the problem."
