London & Sports Weekend

So this weekend I flew over to London to do a little work in the National Archives. They're located in Kew, which is in southwest outer London. To cut down on my travel time, I arranged to stay with a family in Kew that rents out rooms in their house for researchers. I chose this particular place specifically because it proffered wireless internet - a rare luxury in these islands.
I had a late flight out on Thursday night that was pretty uneventful. I got the airport earlier than expected so I chose the Ted Kennedy option and went to the bar and started drinking. By this point in the day I had ingested no less than 3 packaged sandwiches and I needed to deaden the impact of forcing down another one to keep my body running. I got to Heathrow and had enough Sterling on my person from previous visits to Britain to buy myself a Tube ticket - this would prove unnecessary later when I realized that no Cossacks would be around that late at night to see me breeze through the turnstiles. Apart from being accosted by a band of Senegalese who were muttering something about "a bus station" and "a bag of drugs" at me, I got out ok.
I met a friendly British guy on my way to Kew station who helped me figure out why the directions of the lines didn't make sense. He seemed nice and well-dressed, but he didn't have a good enough explanation for why a man of his age was returning from central London at midnight on a Thursday. Usually I see these lone, older, affluent-looking guys in clubs. It has to be assumed that all of them have some massive tragic flaw - like one of their legs is made of fiberglass or something.
Anyway, I felt bad about barging in to the Lees residence at 12:30, but I wasn't about to sleep on a bench. My room was quite clean and well-furnished, and my first night was a good one. I wanted to be at the Archives as soon as it opened, so I rose early. I was informed that eating downstairs would be "unacceptable" because of something to do with "the children," so my marmalade toast and cornflakes were brought to my room. Breakfast was actually quite good though, and as I've developed a morbid appetite for tea, that was welcome as well.
The British National Archives are a massive complex of two main buildings with a big reservoir in between. One looks like the Chinese Imperial Palace and the other looks like a spaceship. The main reading room is located in the spaceship. I had to get photographed and registered and all before I could begin, which was simple enough. There were plenty of English-speaking Anglo-Saxons who were very informative so I learned the system fairly quickly...it's not too different than the Irish National Archives.
The only negative thing was the preponderance of Indians and Jamaicans that prowled around making sure people followed protocol. Make no mistake - these people are expressly necessary in the building to make sure people don't mess things up. The problem is they have the lower-rung jobs and they don't speak English. I brought one-two-many boxes back to my table the first day (because I was an assclown and didn't read the signs), and I got violated by an older Jamacian woman with really bad fake hair. She couldn't understand my questions or apologies, so every time I opened my mouth she cut me off and pointed to a placard nearby, and commenced to read it. This continued to occur until she finished reading me the placard. A major scene later, I was back down to an acceptable number of boxes.
As my time there was limited, I did zero critical reading of the materials I called up, I just took document photos for eight hours straight to use later to maximize my time. It's depressing to discover how much better pensmanship was back in the 1890s. It was pretty cool to handle tons of documents stamped "Secret" (nevermind that they've been declassified since the 70s). I also got to read the biggest book I've ever seen.
For scale, the blue sticker is about the size of a quarter. This monster is a register of illegal organizations. I'd show you a page from it but I'm pretty sure uploading images of them is a massive violation of copyright or some other laws.









The canteen in the Archives had some decent fish and chips, but for supper I was left to my own devices. There was a Marks and Spenser nearby, which is kind of like a Target with groceries, so I went there. The rest of Kew is a labyrinth of houses. After stocking up on cheese and yet more packaged sandwiches, I headed home.
Nights I spent locked up in my room, watching some Slingbox and doing homework. It was kind of depressing the number of hours I spent doing work those two days...because I had nothing else to do. On the upside, the weekend was a great one for sports -

Arsenal 2 - 2 Birmingham City
It's great to see Arsenal drop points. The fact that the final equalizer was a late penalty makes it even better. However, I had to feel sorry for Arsenal after this game. In one of the most horrific sports injuries I've ever seen, or even heard of, Birmingham's Martin Taylor performed an ill-timed, ill-placed tackle on Arsenal's Eduardo, snapping his shinbone like a twig. Double compound fracture. Seriously don't watch this if you just ate.

Manchester United 5 - 1 Newcastle United
A great win especially on a day when Arsenal drew. Ronaldo had 2 again racking up muchos fantasy points for me.

Ireland 34 - 13 Scotland
Ireland moved into second in the table with this convincing win. Scotland have yet to win a match, making this a national catastrophe for the Caledonians. The ice may be thawing for the majority of Irish rugby fans on the current regime, that is until their showdown next round with red-hot Wales.

Wales 47 - 8 Italy
Undefeated Wales are playing the kind of rugby that is fun to watch even if you don't remotely understand rugby. They intercepted passes and ran them in for tries, generally making the Italians look like fools. At this point they're clear favorites to take the 6-Nations crown.

England 24 - 13 France
A tactical grind that was closer than it looked. England are the kind of team that grind out results. 'Nuff said.

and finally...


Tennessee 66 - 62 Memphis
The Vols, for the first time in school history, are the #1 team in men's college basketball. I had ruminated and brooded over this game for over a week, sometimes nervously taking out my wallet-schedule and staring at the date. I had to go to sleep early and wake up to watch it as I had an early flight the following morning. Before I went to sleep I was nauseous and jittery.
Part of it was knowing that we were at an unprecedented level of success. Part of it was hatred for that grease-ball John Calipari and those over-rated thugs on Memphis's team. Part of it was the hype leading up to the game, arguably the biggest in either school's history and only the 5th in-state 1 versus 2 showdown, and the price of tickets (up to five digits).
As luck would have it, when I woke and turned the Slingbox on, our internet in Franklin was down. Words cannot express the level of my rage and frustration at this. After talking to dad on the phone for a bit we got it sorted out about 7 minutes into the game.
The game unfolded in a bizarro sort of way. Memphis, the bigger and more tenacious team down low, was shamefully outrebounded by a smaller UT frontcourt. Memphis bombed the lights out in the early stages of the game from 3-pt range, while UT's stellar guards made little impact from outside the entire game. Lofton only had 7 or so. Wayne Chism, a bigger down-low player for us, actually had three 3s, I think.
Ultimately I think the decider was that Memphis was worse at foul shooting than we are. That isn't easy, as foul shooting isn't our strength. At the end of the day, neither team ran its characteristic style of play, which probably would have resulted in a 100-110 game rather than in the 60s.
After bouts of extreme nerves halfway through the second half, I was strangely calm at the close. At times, as I lay there in a dark, quiet, strange house, my abdominal and leg muscles simply spasmed uncontrollably with anxiety and pent-up aggression. But I never doubted Lofton would hit his foul shots.
Finally, we can't expect to retain our top billing forever. Unlike Memphis, who gets handed their wins by embarrassingly poor opposition week to week, we have a tough schedule and a conference tournament ahead of us. Nevertheless I think its realistic for us to retain a 1-seed going into the tournament, which is more important.

Overall, a great weekend. One of the best in sports for awhile, and I got a lot of work done.
Cheers.

Kilkenny

After a 2 hour train ride early Saturday morning, Nicole and I arrived in Kilkenny. We had a nice albeit fairly cold day. The city is actually quite small, however our B&B was geographically as far from the train station as possible without being outside the city. We walked there and stowed our stuff in our pink room that smelled of false apricots. After walking back to the city center and getting stone dust in my eyes from a construction site, we went to the tourist center.
The tourist center was in a nice old building, but the people weren't nice, or even old. The one thing that this place ought to have had if nothing else was a map of the city. There were no maps of the city readily available, even though there was a whole map section of the shop. There was a fold out roadmap of the city that was roughly the size of a car hood. We ultimately settled for a local culinary guide with a small simplified map inside. I don't know if it was free or not, but if it wasn't we freakin stole it.
We sought lunch in a nearby pub, where we were served by an older gentleman who used every term of endearment in the book to address Nicole. When we entered, the Eagles' "Take it Easy" showed promise for the song selection, but came crashing down with "There's a Tear in my Beer." The Soggy Bottom Boys' "Man of Constant Sorrow."

A view of Kilkenny town center.












After the pub we went to Kilkenny Castle, a massive structure that dominates the city skyline and is one of the largest and best examples of a Norman castle in Ireland. We were informed that all the tours till 4pm were booked, so we put our names down and left. We went first to Kilkenny's Rothe House, build around 1600 and preserved as a museum. It was home to a wealthy local family, mayor included. They also hosted rebel activity in the 17th century before Cromwell got there.

Their sitting room had a massive skull of a Great Irish Elk over the fireplace. A cursory search on this monster revealed that its scientific name is Megaloceros giganteus (haha) and that it was 7 feet tall at the shoulder. Add on the big-ass skull in this picture.













After the Rothe house, we went to St. Canice's Cathedral, the second largest in Ireland. They have a round tower, but it was "closed for winter," whatever that means. They guy inside asked where we were from, and brought up Davy Crockett. I once had a guy in Cork start interrogating me about Davy Crockett's accomplishments, mincing words with me over events that I'm not sure he was aware were "tall tales." Anyway.

The inside of St. Canice's is basically a gallery of wealthy Anglo-Irish dead folks. They have a ton of tombs and crypts, and some awesome stained glass. The church is over 1,000 years old, but the present building was renovated in the mid 1800s.















The best part was probably the ceiling, done in Canadian redwood during aforementioned renovation. Each end is carved with some kind of figure, human or bestial. Ironically I found the wood more striking than some of the other stone or mosaic church roofs I've seen.















The view above the altar in St. Canice's.











After St. Canice's we went back to take our castle tour. Our tour guide was Amy Winehouse minus the redeeming vocal qualities. Unfortunately, they don't let you take pictures inside the castle.

The castle was the family home of the Butlers until 1963. They were an Anglo-Irish noble family that were awarded the stewardship of Ireland by one of the earlier Edwards. They once owned massive sections of Ireland, and received a royalty on all wine sold in the country. They were big supporters of the Stuart dynasty during the turmoil of the 18th century. We got to see the library, which had virulent yellow walls, and the main hall, which had a ridiculous ceiling. It too was carved wood, but it was also painted over with intricate landscapes and designs. It also had tons of portraits of important folks. Originally four-walled, Cromwell and his roundheads battered down the fourth wall during their siege of the castle. The gardens nearby are made in the shape of a Celtic cross.




After the castle, we walked around Kilkenny's two main streets for a while. I bought a great woolen green hat from a "man's store" in which everything was tweed, argyle, or plaid. The proprietor was convinced it was for my father. Eventually, we retired to a pub called Kyteler's which was formerly the home of a woman named Alice Kyteler in the 14th century. After her fourth wealthy husband died, local authorities tried her for witchcraft. She was prosecuted by the bishop at St. Canice's and held at the Castle. More than likely she poised the poor bastards with arsenic. Through some of her powerful connections, she was able to smuggle herself out of the country, but her servants were left behind to be burned at stake. The pub was great, really interestingly decorated. We got in in time to see the Manchester United - Arsenal FA Cup match, and there was a group of United supporters inside. United trounced the Gunners 4-0, and a good time was had by all. We stayed in Kyteler's for several more hours after having supper there, and then made our way back to our room.
The next morning was one of the coldest so far, a bit under 30. We arrived at the train station with about 20 old women taking a trip with their social club. On the way back, a Nigerian woman with two small boys kept the entire train car at triple digit decibel levels. It rocked.
Overall it was a nice little trip. This weekend I'm flying to London to visit the British National Archives so there will be a post on that, as well as on all the sports stuff going down this weekend. I won't even get into that now because I don't even want to think about the implications yet....

My Ears are Cold

Yes, for the first time since early in 8th grade, my hair is short. I feel a bit vulnerable and susceptible to the elements. I figured what the hell, I'm in a foreign country where a bunch of punk-ass kids have the same haircut, none of my loved ones see me every day so if it ends up being stupid it won't hurt as bad.
The girl who cut it was Polish and spoke no English, so I had to point something out in a magazine to her. That was pretty alarming but she did a decent job. I did it on Monday. On Tuesday, I passed Daithi inside Trinity (for those who dont know, Daithi is the guy I worked for two summers ago, and whose office I sometimes hang out in/do some extra work to help him finish his book) Daithi walked straight past me without so much as a word, and when I called him out, he turned, looked confused, and muttered "Jesus..." 'Nuff said.
Nicole found out today, when I approached her to go to lunch. She babbled for a bit. I think she likes it, or at least pretends she does. I've had girls that are in my classes who have never spoken to me pass me in the halls and go "Oh God, you cut your hair!"
Anyway, you be the judge about whether it was a good choice. Any time I save during washing is lost again because it has to be fixed, so stalemate there. It actually stays right without being fixed, but I prefer to put that awful goop on it to make sure it doesn't go crazy on me. We'll see what its like as it grows.
Oh yeah, and sorry for the emo pictures. I had to take them in the mirror for lack of a helper.

Trip to Newgrange and Tara

Saturday Nicole and I took a bus trip north to County Meath to check out Drogheda, Newgrange, and Tara. Our bus driver was quite a colorful individual. His name was John Bolton and he told us extensively about his family history, including that we were obligated to call him "Your Grace" as there had been an archbishop in his family. He talked for basically the entire bus ride with the exception of part of the drive back into Dublin. Two women of considerably advanced age sat in the front seat and laughed at all his jokes.
We stopped several times just north of Dublin so John could show us some old cottages along the road. He explained how they were built by neighbors and friends, and incorporated mud, rock, and thatch. There are a good amount of these fallen-down cottages everywhere, most of them are over 100 years old.
A bit north of Dublin we passed through the town of Drogheda. It's a good sized place in a nice area and a little river running through it. In 1649, Oliver Cromwell came to Drogheda and laid siege to the city as part of his campaign to suppress the Royalist resistance to his anti-Catholic Puritan regime. He ordered his men to put the captured garrison, all Catholic clergy, and a number of other Catholic civilians to the sword. The death-toll was somewhere between 1,000 and 3,500, though most cite the upper limit.

St. Peter's Church in Drogheda, which contains the relics of St. Oliver Plunkett, the last Irishman to be canonized and the latest Irish martyr in several centuries. After Cromwell's terror campaign, the practice of Catholicism was highly illegal, and Plunkett was the Archbishop of Armagh, or the Catholic Primate of Ireland. He continued to carry out his duties until he was arrested, hanged, drawn, and quartered.





Oliver Plunkett's mummified head, on display in St. Peter's.


















For Kyle, who suggested I go to Drogheda.











From Drogheda we moved on toward Co. Meath and stopped to explore the ruins of the monastery at Monasterboice. There is a round tower there, a key feature of Irish monastic sights, as well as several high crosses, which were used to teach stories from the Bible to illiterate parishioners. The tallest high cross in Ireland, as well as one of the best-preserved, are found at Monasterboice.







The first high cross in Monasterboice churchyard, considered one of the best preserved in Ireland.

















The second high cross, and the tallest in Ireland. However, the middle section is not original, so it's not exactly a legit claim.
















A view of the round tower that shows its height.
















From Monasterboice we moved on to Newgrange. We stopped first at the Boyne Valley interpretive center, a really nice facility with a museum and a restaurant. The Boyne Valley is probably the most strategically important location in Ireland. It acted as a kind of "fertile crescent," when the first Irish began farming many thousands of years ago. These people grew in wealth and importance, eventually constructing Newgrange, the largest passage tomb in Ireland and one of the oldest Neolithic constructions in the world at about 3200 BC, before the Pyramids at Giza. The valley continued to be of strategic importance into modern times, after the Battle of the Boyne in 1690, when William of Orange defeated James, solidifying Protestantism in Britain ending the Stuart dynasty, and assuring that Ireland would remain in a penal state for many further generations.


The entrance to the tomb. It goes in a small passage into the center, in a cruciform fashion. The hole at the top is a "lighbox," and at the winter solstice, the rising sun shines into the box and illuminates the inner chamber. They don't allow you to take pictures inside, but the intricate carvings on the rock in front are all over the inside. There are three recesses in the chamber, which rises in a dome of igloo-style rock, covered at the top with a few meters of earth and grass. There were stone basins and urns inside, as the tomb was probably used as a site of renewal, when the cremated dead of the tribe (or maybe just the leaders) was placed inside urns in the chamber for a year, until the life-giving sun god illuminated their remains and sent them forth into the next life. All in all a very cool experience.



After Newgrange we moved on to Tara Hill. Also a site of massive political significance in ancient Ireland, Tara was a ceremonial site and the capital of Ireland when it was ruled by High Kings. From its crest one can supposedly see 16 of Ireland's 32 counties on a clear day. This image shows the Lia Fáil, or stone of destiny, which was touched during the coronation of a High King. It was said that if the rock cried out when touched, a man was fit to be High King. The ceremonies were wedding ceremonies, as a High King was thought of as being wedded to the land of Ireland. If he was doing his duty dishonorably or incompetently, famines, droughts, and disease from his bride Ireland would expose him as an unrighteous ruler and he was deposed. The last High King of Ireland was Brian Boru, who died defeating an army of Vikings in the Battle of Clontarf, 1014.


A statue of St. Patrick on Tara Hill. When Patrick arrived in Ireland in 432, he set about converting pagan customs and beliefs into similar Christian analogs. He lit the first Easter bonfire on Tara hill, which was a violation of Irish law. According to custom, the High King was to light the first bonfire at Tara to begin the pagan fertility festival of Beal Taine, or May Day, and the fire would spread when it was seen by the next watch-hill and another bonfire lit. Patrick's stunt triggered the sequence too early, causing the Irish to unwittingly commemorate Easter. Patrick was brought before the High King to answer for his crime, and there he used a Shamrock to explain the mystery of the Trinity to the King and his court. The rest is history.






A nice view of the waning sun and the view from the top of the hill. It was a bit hazy but it was still a good view of the countryside.











This ditch-thing is referred to as the "feasting hall," but the historian-author-old guy that gave us a slideshow about Tara says he thinks it was just the grand entrance to the palace complex.







After Tara we cruised back to Dublin in time to learn that Ireland lost a close match to France in Paris. Given that French were heavily favored after Ireland's poor showing last week, the 26-21 scoreline was positive for the Irish. The Welsh were victorious against Scotland, giving them a share of first place with the French. England got back on track with a close win over Italy today.
Tennessee had another close shave against LSU, who held us to 40-some-odd points, when we had put up over 100 on Florida. Given that LSU is the worst team in the SEC, it was a discouraging result. Hopefully the team will get this out of their system and have some positive showings before our big showdown against Memphis. A win over them will catapult us into the top-5, and possibly into a 1-seed in the tournament, depending on the performance of other teams.
All in all it was a fun weekend, and the guys had a great time in Amsterdam. The details of their trip are not best suited for a wider audience, so I'll save them. In other news, the assclowns that live beneath us have begun setting off their house alarm. They don't know the code that shuts it off. They may not be alive much longer.
More photos can be seen from my Facebook album.

Some Stuff that Happened the Last Few Days

Tennessee Returns Hillary and Huckabee
I was literally made to apologize for this in my history course, when my history professor brought up "The Right Reverend Huckabee" and my home state. Its a bit embarrassing, really, knowing that we vote for people based on their spiritual credentials above their political ones. I don't actually have numbers to back this up, but just giving the electoral map a once-over, it looks like the Huckabee states correlate strongly with states that rank low in education.
Then, of course, there's Billary. It's puzzling to note that a state which saw Harold Ford lose a close race to Bob Corker doesn't show better for Obama. From now on I'm telling people I'm from Illinois.
Interestingly, people here don't think there are any real Republicans, and can't fathom a Republican victory in '08. Non-Democrats only barely qualify as human beings. The reason is they look at the current administration in all its horrific glory, see how bad the opinion polls are, and in a parliamentary system of government like they're used to, the Prime Minister would be resigning soon and the party in power would be calling emergency meetings about whether they should rethink their entire manifesto or just dissolve completely. They don't understand that just because a reckless juggernaut of groupthink and cronyism has crashed our executive branch for the past seven years, doesn't necessarily spell doom and gloom for the whole party. Not that I'm predicting a Republican victory, but I think it's foolish to rule it out.

Tornadoes Ravage Tennessee
Yes, this had something to do with the primary results. Thoughts go out to people who lost property and/or friends, and to Carolyn Negley, who goes to Union University. It takes things like this to remind you not to take things for granted. These storms are also one of the key reasons that I'd like my future home to be a fortress, with a bunker.

Tennessee Ravages Florida, 104 - 82
Until the last 10 minutes, this wasn't a pleasant game to watch. Once again, Tennessee got out to an early deficit and had to battle back against both Florida and an officiating crew that believed the 20-something thousand fans who came to Thompson-Boling Arena that night had paid to see them blow whistles.
It was a special night for Florida's #21, Dan Werner. Werner officially joined the Galactic Wankers' All-Star Team when he hacked JP Prince down in a shameless, indefensible manner. I only wish that JP Prince was Roy Keane, because if he was he would end Werner's career during the rematch with a bone-splintering kick to the knee.

Martin Ferris
On Wednesday I had the privilege of meeting Martin Ferris, Teachta Daila (TD) for Kerry North and former IRA gun-runner and prisoner. He did three terms in prison for around a dozen years, going on hunger strike at one point. His last stint was for attempting to bring several tons of weapons, explosives, and ammunition into Ireland via a fishing boat. It's often speculated that, prior to the IRA's decision to end its armed campaign, Ferris served on the IRA Army Council along with Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness.
IES brought Martin in to talk to their Peace and Conflict Studies kids, and I found out and got their permission to sit in on it. He was more frank than I thought he would be, considering he's a politician now, about his paramilitary background. In his talk he went through the entire course of the Troubles, with some personal anecdotes thrown in and then answered our questions for a while.
I found him very sincere and personable. He balanced his dedication to his cause with tacit statements about tolerance for other persuasions, especially Unionists, and warnings that violent acts are never justifiable when another course of action is possible, as seen now in the current government of Northern Ireland.
I asked him two questions, the first about the arms shipment that landed him in jail and what kind of advantage it would have given the IRA. He told me, strikingly, that while the weapons would have been a welcome boost, the real weapon was the knowledge and resolve in the minds of he and other IRA Volunteers. For example, he illustrated, if I bought him a few household items from nearby stores, he could make a 2-ton fertilizer bomb that would smoke a few city blocks. I also asked him what kinds of strategies were in place in the current situation of peace and government that were moving us toward a united Ireland. His answer was a list of detailed technical stuff about all-Ireland institutions and so forth that aren't worth reproducing here.
It's always nice to meet someone you've read about in books. I get to do that fairly often here.

In Other News
The rest of the guys went to Amsterdam this weekend. I'm just hoping they all get back in one piece. In case you were wondering, I can lift 13 stones on the quad machine. Yeah, I don't know how much it is either. I just know I can lift 13 of them. Rugby jerseys are 100 euro. Lots of nice games coming up this weekend and possibly a day trip or two.

This Weekend in Sports

Watching sports was about all I did this weekend. There was rugby, basketball, soccer, and football. Of course, there were also random bouts of homework, sleep, and drinking. This weekend began the Six Nations Rugby Tournament between England, France, Italy, Wales, Ireland and Scotland. Ireland didn't do so well in the Rugby World Cup this summer, which has given everyone some sort of complex and made this tournament of vital importance to the national honor. Sam, Nicole, and I went down to The Barge to catch the rugby matches on Saturday.

Ireland 16 - 11 Italy
This was not a good result, despite what you may think. Italy are apparently the whipping-boy of this tournament, and as previously mentioned there was a lot riding on this game. I saw interviews with people on the street leaving Croke Park, and the words "ghastly" and "rubbish" were used in excess. More than one fan called for the sacking of the manager. I can say that after watching Munster (a province of Ireland) dismantle Wasps in the Heineken Cup (a club tournament), and given the fact that Munster's players feature heavily in Ireland's squad, I expected to see more quality, but the players just didn't have the same individual performances. Ireland has a tough game next weekend away at France. Expect more calls for blood over this one.

England 19 - 26 Wales
Wales had not won at Twickenham, England's rugby ground, in twenty years. England's kicker, an integral position that scores most of the points in the match because they take frequent penalty kicks and conversion kicks, is Jonny Wilkinson, one of the most famous rugby players in the world. Ironically, it was Wales' kicker, James Hook, who won it for Wales by never missing a kick. England seem a bit off-form from finishing second in the Rugby World Cup.

Scotland 6 - 27 France
This game was a national disaster in Scotland. Some had them picked to win, and as the scoreline suggests they completely had themselves. France, who had a very successful World Cup run, changed their squad quite a bit and appear to have done so wisely. Not much else to say here other than that Scotland need to sort themselves out.

Manchester United 1 - 1 Tottenham Hotspur
This match was on on one screen in the pub we were watching rugby in. Every few minutes I would run down the stairs and catch a few minutes, then run back. There were a group of Indians and old men wearing red who were watching this game, one of whom would gesture and curse violently, as United were complete crap until the last ten minutes. After conceding a goal on a defensive disaster, United failed to connect passes or coordinate any attack to speak of. Only a late flurry, culminating in a 93rd minute equalizer on a corner-kick, leveled the score. Strangely, as bad as we looked, when I saw Van Der Sar come out of goal for the corner, I had an odd feeling that we would punch it in. We made a racket after the goal. Lucky we did, as Arsenal have re-taken the lead and will be unlikely to drop points anytime soon.

Tennessee 76 - 71 Mississippi State
This was a rather frustrating game to watch, much less to stay up for. After overcoming an opening barrage by MSU, we built up a 17-pt lead. Our 3-point shooting was frighteningly good, and we were responding well to MSU's highly rated defense. Then, as the second half started to wind down, State decided to start throwing up 3's with reckless abandon.
It's something I'd like to call the "Patrick Lazear Strategy." For those of you who don't know Patrick, my good friend of a past age who now goes to UK, he was able to merge two of his favorite things - basketball and lazy fatalism. According to Daniel, who used to play against Patrick's team in a YMCA league, when Patrick's team, for which he accounted roughly 75% of the points, got down by a large margin, Patrick would stand at half court, refuse to play defense, receive the first pass of his team's possession, and throw up a 3-point shot. All the while ignoring the screamed threats of his mother (also the coach), to take him out.
Realizing they had little chance to win by conventional means, the Devil-may-care Bulldogs simply started throwing up any three ball they could squeeze off, and, probably by virtue of the Devil, they all went in. Suddenly, after something like a 24-9 run, our lead had blown away like the topsoil of the central United States in the late 1920s. When legendarily awful free-throw shooter Wayne Chism bricked his first foul shot in the closing minutes, all looked lost. However, largely thanks to some clutch fouls shots by Jordan Howell and a pathetic traveling penalty by an MSU freshman, we came away with the win.
We need to learn not to take our foot off the gas, but its hard to know what to do when Satan is guiding the hands of the opposing team's shooters.

Giants 17 - 14 Patriots
Last night was a riot in more ways than one. We had a few dozen people over to our apartment for a shindig, as our apartment is bigger than everyone else's. Somewhat nonsensically, we cleaned up the place diligently before the party, only to have it completely destroyed by the drunken throngs. Nicole and I made some nacho dip, which thankfully allowed me to shut myself up in the kitchen during the opening rounds of the fracas, which started a bit too early before the 11pm kickoff.
This morning, the bathtub was filled with empty beer cans, the bookshelf was placed firmly in the middle of the hall, and the kitchen floor had a nice coating of honey. I'll leave the explanation for these conditions up to your imagination. At least tonight, Chris didn't get hit by a taxi.
As for the game, I'm still somewhat in disbelief. Yesterday, my roommate and Patriots fan Sam asked my why I didn't just support the Patriots, "to save myself the heartache of loss." I was amused by the seductiveness of this argument, calling up images of Emperor Palpatine, Sauron, or Pacino in The Devil's Advocate. Though I was not awake to see Sam's reaction at the end of the game, I can attest that he has taken the loss like a man, without any whining or grasping irrational excuses. He did skip work today though to recuperate.
As far as the Patriots themselves go, I'm delighted to see some justice for the smug pompousness that has emanated out of Foxboro this season. I'm also glad to see that cutoff-hoodie-wearing asshole Belichik fail in any capacity. Perhaps Tommy Brady will impregnate another starlet to blow off steam, then leave her when someone hotter comes along. The fact that the damage was wreaked by a Manning makes it even better. Of course everyone expected it to by Peyton, but obviously any Manning will suffice. The Patriots' opponents should hire Archie as a consultant and have Cooper suited up ready to come in for a few plays at backup.
Bill Simmons picked the Patriots 42-17. Shows what he knows. Supposedly the Patriots invited some of the Giants to their after-party before the game. Perhaps the '72 Dolphins should have invited the Patriots to their after-party.

Stay tuned for a Super Tuesday reaction...