utmountnbiker's Blog - 2old2play

Incoming!!

I've been into home brewing for quite a few years now, (It's pretty popular here in Utah because of all of the strange liquor laws - but that's a whole other discussion) and I recently brewed the perfect COD4 beer. I've decided to name it "random grenade".

Now, this beer is in no way the perfect beer. Sure it has great color, a great "bouquet", and I'm assuming a great taste. There is only major problem with it - there isn't enough left of it to actually get a taste. You see, the major problem with this beer is carbonation. Too much carbonation. No scratch that, WAAAY too much carbonation. This beer has so much carbonation that during the cabonating process (after the beer is bottled, you let it sit for a few weeks to build up the carbonation), one of the bottles bottom blew right off. I mean, it was a clean break. Nothing but a bottle with a hole at the bottom.

Luckily I haven't had any more of these episodes (what a mess). However, no matter what I do, once the bottle is opened, it begins to spew foam. It just pours out. A veritable beer shaped Mt. Vesuvius. I've tried it at different temperatures. I've tried letting the beer sit an additional 2 weeks. I've tried everything. The only thing that works is to pour the beer into a large container and allow the foam to settle back into beer. Normally this would result in flat beer but not in this case. What's left is still an overly carbonated Barley Pop. It's actually got a good taste (if you don't mind a your beer a little on the yeasty side), just not good enough to enjoy it a second time as you expell the excees gas in the form of a belch. So if any of you find yourself in need of an extra frag while playing COD4, I've got you back. I've got 48 beer grenades just wating to take out a few Timmies.

This is your supply Sargeant saying, bottoms up...if it hasn't been blown off!

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The Ultimate Job

This is a little late, but I've just recently started this whole blogging thing.

To all the sports fans out there; Prepare to be jealous! A few years ago my friend started her own production company after her previous employer crapped on her one too many times. Her job involved the producing and organizing of pre game and half time shows for pro and college sporting events. She also did other gigs, such as 4th of July celebrations, but her main job involved sports. Her employer took her for granted, so she struck out on her own.

Here’s where I come in. When she first started this company, all the people with experience were working for her competitor and had a non-compete clause, so she needed someone to help her out. I jumped at the opportunity. Basically I get paid to go to professional football/baseball/hockey games and tell people how to hold a giant flag. Not exactly brain surgery, and not all that taxing. The best part is, my job is over before the game even starts, and I get to sit there and watch the game AND GET PAID FOR DOING IT!

Here are a few of the highlights from this "job" from the last year

I shagged balls (no you dirty minded bastards, I mean catching fly balls during batting practice) for the NY Yankees and Anaheim/California Angels.

The 2007 World Series

I spent a few hours messing around in the Green Bay Packers practice field - I know doesn't sound like a highlight, but it was for me.

I was on the field during pre-game for the NFC Championship Game chatting with Michael Strahan, and watched Brett Favre play his last NFL game (maybe). Damn cold, but what a great time.

I have been all over the nation, to all kinds of stadiums and until the NFC Championship game, I kinda took it for granted. I realized after that game how lucky I really am to have this opportunity, the only problem is, my real job keeps getting in the way. Such is life. Here are a few pics I took at the NFC Championship Game.

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It's a small world after all

Here's a story I shared with my 2o4D clanmates. Thought I'd post it here.

So years ago, I moved from So. Cal to Utah to play football for Utah State. I had been dating a girl in California for over a year, and we decided to give the long distance thing a try. Everybody told me it wasn't going to work out, and I should dump the girl in California and move on with my life....but we were in love. Plus, being the sensitve person I was at age 18, I figured, why would I break up with her? I would have to spend my summers in California looking for action, instead of actually getting some.

So a few celebate months into this arrangement, I meet a girl in Utah who finds some redeeming quality in me. So we start going out....well, going out, staying in doing my laundry, it's all the same....Like I said sensitive.

After a few months of this, the Utah girl goes on an exchange program to Taiwan teaching English to children. During this time she meets a guy (also there from the US to teach english) who proceeds to ask her on a date. She shuts the door on this guy, telling him (paraphrased as I wasn't there), "I have a boyfriend named utmountnbiker (name changed to protect the guilty) back in Utah that plays on the Utah State Football team".

A couple of months later this guy goes home to California and joins his intramural college tennis team. After playing tennis with a young lady for a couple of weeks, he finally plucks up the courage to ask her out on a date. She responds with (once again, paraphrasing) "I'm sorry, that is nice of you to ask, but I have a boyfriend who is away playing football at Utah State", to which the boy repsonds "Oh yeah, and I bet his name is utmountnbiker!?!?"

I think that was the most uncomfortable phone call I ever received. Needless to say, I was dumped.

From Utah to Taiwan to California. Boy, is it a small world!

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Tough Guy

A few years back I played football for a small division 1 college in Utah. Ok, let's not pretend. It's been more than a few years....like 16 years. - Damn I'm getting old. Anyway. My freshmen year starts and I quickly realize that college football is on whole other level than High School. You know this going in, but you don't REALLY know it until you are there. Everyone is faster, everyone hits harder, and EVERYONE wants that starting position. There is an environment of toughness. We are in college – we are men now. Grrr!

I embrace this environment with enthusiasm. I play through the pain. I don’t take plays off. I’m tough……..so I think.

I get my first chance to show how tough I am in one of the pre-season practices. During one of the drills, my pinky gets caught in a facemask and is practically torn off. It is literally hanging by a flap of skin and a ligament. I shake it off. This turns out to be a bad idea since it sends blood flying everywhere and hurts like hell.

I am sent jogging into the medical facility (right next to the practice field) where the doc stitches me up. Now he does this before the local anesthetic even has a chance to kick in. But I’m tough, and I suck it up and sit there without flinching, hoping that nobody notices my turning a slight shade of green. After a few minutes and 20+ stitches, I’m back out there at practice with my pinky taped to the finger next to it. After no more than 10 minutes, I have ripped half of the stitches out and have to go back to see the doc.

This is the first time I realize that I’m not so tough. I don’t jog in, I walk. I dread them having to stitch me up again. I decide needles hurt. My hand is throbbing and I don’t want to play through the pain. Oh well, I can pretend I’m tough.

Now halfway through my first season I see what it REALLY means to be tough.

Enter Rob. Rob played the same position as I did - outside linebacker. He mainly kept to himself, and never seemed to get hurt. I realized later that he probably had the same bumps and bruises the rest of us had, the only difference was, Rob really was tough.

My freshmen year I played special teams only, and warmed the bench during the rest of the game. During one of these games Rob had make a spectacular hit on the running back sweeping toward the opposing team’s sideline. He and the running back flew out of bounds landing awkwardly on the player bench. The opposing team’s running back was down, and was staying down.

Rob popped up and headed over to our sideline. As he got close his position coach told him to get his ass back out on the field, it was only second down. His response was, “Coach, I need to go see the trainer real quick. I might be out a few plays”. From the tone is his voice you’d think he needed a tape job on his ankle.

That’s when we noticed the bone sticking out the side of his arm. He calmly trotted over to one of the trainers and asked if they could tape him up. When the trainer saw what he was referring to, he freaked. He didn’t know what to make of it – he started hyperventilating and soon fainted. Puss. Not being deterred, Rob walked over to another trainer and asked the same thing. To her credit, she didn’t freak. She simply told Rob to quit being a dumbass, and walked him off the field.

Now I’ve seen many guys injured on the “battlefield”, but never since have I seen with a broken bone sticking out of their body and a smile on their face.

My hat is off to you Rob. You’re one tough bastard!

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the rest of the story

If you haven’t read the first part of the story, you should read the post below before you continue.

And now, the rest of the story (sorry, couldn’t resist the Paul Harvey quote)

So needless to say, I’m pretty freaked out. I am gathering up the electronics that I have in the truck (digital camera, phone, etc.), while my wife gathers up the kid and wades/swims to dry land. The truck is at a precarious angle, with the passenger’s side high and the driver’s side much lower so I exit through passenger's side window.

At this point the water is just over the bottom of the windows on the driver side. I watch as it slowly fills that cabin, pulling the truck deeper into the hole. I also notice other things are happening. The horn begins to honk (somewhat muffled since it’s under water). The windshield wipers wave frantically, and the washer on the rear window sprays sporadically. I realize that the water is causing shorts in the electrical system, so I jump in to see what I can do. I struggle, but finally manage to get the hood open to get access to the battery. I practically need a scuba mask to see anything, but I manage to disconnect the battery using a toolkit I keep in the back of the truck.

As I get back up on the dry beach, I’m pretty upset with myself, thinking I just ruined a perfectly good truck. I can’t decide if I’m angry or depressed. My confusion lasts a short time. One of the owners of the trucks that I maneuvered around, came up to me and have the balls to say “Yeah I saw that deep hole when we moved down the beach (they had moved everything about 50’), and wondered how you were going to get back out”. I turn to the guy, and I must have had steam coming out of my ears, because he almost tripped he backed up so fast. I was speechless. I couldn’t believe after seeing the hole and knowing we would be coming back that way, he didn’t have the courtesy to walk 100’ to come and tell us. I had to just walk away. It took all my strength, but I managed not to throttle him. It was amazing how fast they packed up and took off.

So by this time there are between 75 – 100 spectators with their digital cameras and camera phones, recording the idiocy of one individual. Me. I tried not to take it personally; and by now I had relaxed a bit. I also tried to see the humor in it. I failed miserably, but I tried.

After a few minutes, one of the locals pulled up in his big F350 Super Duty (the people had left so the beach was open). He had seen my predicament and had run to his truck to try and help. He wasn’t the only one. Many of the people that had shown up were trying to lend a hand one way or another.(Why I love Utah). We used the F350 to try and pull the truck out of the hole. Didn’t work. Not only was the truck full of water and at a steep angle, but the transmission was in park and wouldn’t budge. (Couldn’t take it out of park either – needs a connection to the battery and the override was jammed)

I’ll cut to the chase. After an hour or so we are able to get a wrecker in there and maneuver the truck out of the deep hole. We opened the doors and it was like you see in the cartoons...only without the fish. There was water pouring out of every orifice. After it was sufficiently drained, we towed it to my bother in laws house, where we took apart everything electrical. We took apart the doors, pulled all of the fuses and blew the water from the openings and basically wet vacced the entire truck. Finally, I put the battery on a charger and basically just left it overnight to dry out. I figured it was dead and spent the night figuring out how we would get home.

The next morning I went back, a little more optimistic. I put everything back together, crossed my fingers and said a little prayer…actually it was a rather lengthy one. I turned the key and a wonderful sound filled my ears. I couldn’t believe it! It started right up!! I mean, it sounded like it did just 24 hours earlier. I did notice that my gas tank was showing beyond full so I quickly shut it down, understanding that apparenly water had gotten into my gas tank. I proceeded to drain and replace all of the fluids, flush the transmission, etc. After everything said and done, vital fluids replaced, I drove my Chevy home.

As we’re driving home my wife says to me, “You should get rid of that truck before it dies on you”. “Shame on you” I tell her. “If you can submerge your truck for an hour and drive it away, that’s a truck you KEEP! I have had the truck two years since then (it now has 95K miles), and have not had one problem with it. Believe me, I will not hesitate to buy Chevy again.

Now the kicker of the story, (one my wife loves to point out and which Pozer already commented on) was the shirt I was wearing at the time.

I’m sure more than a few people got a chuckle that day from the irony.

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Why I love my Chevy

Why I love my Chevy

A few summers ago my wife, my son and I were visiting my brother in law and his family in N. Utah. It was a beautiful, hot summer day so we decided to head down the lakefront to enjoy the sand and the sun. The public “beaches” were crowded so we headed over to a private shorefront. Since I was not familiar with the area I let my brother in law lead the way (both driving our own SUVs - after all gas was still reasonable).

I have to set the scene here a little. Bear Lake has huge water fluctuations between the spring and the summer. The lake also has about 100 yards of distance from the main road to the water. This is normally a sandy shorefront, but because of the receding water line, you are left with pools of 6” – 12” standing water along the lake front. These aren’t just large puddles, but small, shallow ponds separated from the main lake by 10 – 15 feet of dry, sandy beach. In order to reach points along the beach, you are forced to enter through a raised road and either 1) drive on the beach, running over the odd sunbather, or 2) drive in the standing water on just on the other side of the dry sand.

As I said, I was not familiar with the area so I let my brother in law lead the way. We drove along the beach, venturing into the shallow standing water when necessary to avoid a group camped out on the beach. After ¼ mile or so, we found ourselves a nice location to let the kids play.

A couple of hours later, it was time to go. This time I lead so my brother in law wouldn’t have to drive out into the standing water and around me. After all, we didn’t want to take the chance of him getting stuck. Besides, I just had to go back the way I came, and what could possibly happen?

After a short distance I came to a pool of water that appeared to be slightly deeper than the last pool I drove through, so I approached with caution. After a few seconds I decided it would be fine, since I recognized the two trucks parked beside the pool as those that we had passed earlier. I knew I was safe. To make up for my hesitancy, I decided to give the gas a little goose.

SPLASH! The next thing I know, there is water coming up and over the hood of my truck, and we’re slowly sinking. After momentary panic, I throw the truck into reverse but quickly realize it’s a futile effort - we're not going anywhere but down. Meanwhile my wife is frantically trying to gather up the animal crackers she spilled, before they are ruined by the slowly flooding cab of my Trailblazer. My shout snaps her out of it “WHAT’RE YOU DOING? Get the kid out of the car seat and get out”. Meanwhile my 4 year old son is absolutely enthralled at the chance to swim in Daddy’s truck. He’s not bothered in the least. He even asks “Can I wear my googles?”

Lunch break is over so I'll get the rest later

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