Sky Miles

With Christmas swiftly in the past, it was time to get back on the court. December 26th brought our first practice in two and a half days.

And for a few guys, December 26th turned out to be one heck of a day...

...for myself, a short 90-minute drive from Erie before our 1:30pm practice was a piece of cake. For others, the day erupted into quite an extravaganza.

Let's see, a couple guys had a nice four or five hour drive through the rain and slush that brought them to Buffalo mere minutes before practice.

I'll let you know that immediately following practice we were bussing to the airport and flying to Orlando. So that's 1:30 practice, lift at 3:30, bus out at 5:00 for a flight at 7:00 with a layover in Atlanta then finally hit Orlando at 12:30 and the hotel by about 1:00am.

As I was saying, there were other guys who had it a little bit worse. One, from Boston, flew Boston to Buffalo at 8:30am, practiced and flew to Florida. Another, from Palm Beach, actually flew from Florida to Buffalo in the morning, practiced, then flew BACK to Florida several hours later.

Then there was my man from Arizona. This guy flew from Arizona to Detroit before things got a little wild. Turns out, the terrorist who lit his legs on fire actually did so in the exact gate my teammate's flight was boarding. He happened to be getting some food when he saw some commotion (the guy lighting his legs on fire). Needless to say, the flight was delayed and he arrived in Buffalo just in time to pack his jersey and board another plane to Florida.

Nothing like a few frequent flyer miles.

So yeah, Christmas was over and it was time to scoot down to the Sunshine State (it's raining) for a little more basketball.

Time for dinner, though. Hopefully tonight nobody spills their water.

Hockey

Before I get into anything, I'd like to introduce everyone to a great Christmas song that I've come across the last couple years.

"Christmas Wrapping" by Waitresses.

We're in Green Bay, Wisconsin right now for our game against none other than the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay. We arrived here after a long day of traveling yesterday. After a 90-minute flight from Buffalo to Chicago, a two-and-a-half hour layover in the Chicago airport - where the workers sang Christmas songs over the intercom - and a 25-minute teeter totter of a flight, we finally arrived in Green Bay. But we gained an hour in Central Time, so a seven hour travel day was really only six.

Oh, and for those of you who don't plan on making a trip to Green Bay in your lifetime: it's just like they say it is on TV. It's cold, snowy and Packer-crazy. You can see Lambeau Field from our hotel. We actually ate dinner inside the stadium last night. And yes, I had cheese...I mean that's what they do in Wisconsin, right?

--Historic Lambeau Field

Brett Favre's restaurant is right around the corner from our hotel, as is UW-GB's arena, which they share with a semi-pro hockey team. I mention the hockey team because the basketball court, like in many arenas, is placed on top of the ice so the "coldness" seeps right up through. At shoot-around this morning we unknowingly decided to stretch at midcourt. I think I have frostbite.

It's almost time for our pre-game meal here at the hotel. It's a real nice hotel, only downside is that our room seems to have some quirks. For some reason we have no curtain for our window so I had to resort to piling my pillows around my face to block out the light streaming in from the parking lot all night. Our beds are missing a blanket - we have the bottom sheet and a comforter but no soft, warm layer in between. The thermostat is set to 62 degrees but the heater has been running all day and the actual temperature reads somewhere around 70 (which is also wrong - it must be almost 80 in here right now). And our sink is on steroids...turn the knob a bit to wet your toothbrush and the flood gates open, tearing the toothbrush from your grasp. But the shower is great, and that's really all you can ask for - that and comfortable beds, which we also have.

The dinner bell rings...

Cookies

It's been awhile since we last played, and we still have a few days before we play again. We've used the week to work on a few things in practice, but big gaps in between games are always a drag.

Once you're in season you just want to keep playing.

The semester is over and the students on campus have all begun to head home for winter break. Having played basketball all my life I have never experienced the epic vacation that other students enjoy. This is a good thing, because instead of sitting on my keister eating cookies, I'm in the gym every day at practice. And there's nothing quite like being in shape.

Let's just hope once I'm done playing I don't end up looking like Santa Claus.

Things get a little slow around campus with no one around. But at least I don't live in the dorms anymore - don't have to risk forgetting my UB swipe card and becoming locked out of the residence halls in the snow for hours until the snow plow guy finagles a way through the locked doors for us (that really happened, by the way). I also don't have to worry about my roommates stealing my towel and clothes from the shower and locking me out of the room (the kind of thing that happens during long winter days in the dorms...and another true story).

So, speaking of Santa Claus, I decided to try my hand as the guy in the big red suit while I had a little free time.

He can keep his job.

There is absolutely nothing easy about finding gifts. Not that I wanted it to be easy, but c'mon - can I catch a break? Have you ever noticed that when you're looking for something specific it just seems to disappear off the shelves? I've discovered the BEST Christmas gifts in summertime only to forget them by the holidays.

What a terrible strategy.

My strategy this year? Not much better. I made a couple trips out but found nothing. Spent a couple fruitless nights surfing the web. Don't sweat it though, because even though my bags are empty, my head is full of ideas. With ideas like these, all it takes is a few quick stops at a few spots and Santa Claus is comin' to town.

And remember, there's absolutely nothing wrong with shopping on Christmas Eve.

It's actually quite a rush.

Happy Shopping

Sir Smiley

Before our game against Buff State yesterday, I briefly chatted with the television commentator. I knew him from working the sidelines at UB football games, so we exchanged hellos and he said he needed some "filler" for the broadcast.

After discussing some players I'd played against in high school and some facts about my hometown (he actually graduated from Mercyhurst College, which is in Erie), he asked me for some interesting tidbits about the guys on the team.

And it came up: who has the best nickname?

Being around guys everyday in the locker room, it's almost a sure bet that you'll acquire at least one nickname. Last names are always a safe starting point, and from there nicknames can range from abbreviated pronunciations of a name to something completely irrelevant.

It's almost impossible to choose the BEST nickname.

Fortunately, I was blessed with a pretty unique last name. Smiley has served as both a namesake and a permanent nickname almost since I can remember. Alterations have been made through the years as I have been called "Smiles," "Sir Smiley," "S-Dot" (the S-Dot being the first letter of my first name and a period, as in 'S. Smiley'), among others. So for the most part I have escaped any ridiculous nicknames.

For the most part.

Somehow I've taken on the nickname "Sunshine" (most likely in reference to the California-bred quarterback from Remember the Titans) as well as "Ugly" (don't ask me why) and "Li'l White" (television show reference).

Nicknames can also stem from unique physical traits or celebrity look-alikes. I don't really look much like anyone famous - I have gotten a few Steve Blake comments - so I managed to dodge that bullet.

All in all, nicknames keep things light and add some fun to the locker room environment. They create and also strengthen memories - and nicknames almost always stick, no matter how outlandish they might seem.

So to continue my story, I wasn't able to give the broadcaster a "best" nickname.

We ended up winning the game, which is always a good feeling. A few of my buddies were up from Erie to watch, and they enjoyed themselves as I showed them a little taste of Buffalo - including a trip to Red Robin for burgers and bottomless french fries.

No Heat

I was not quite a junior in high school when I first stepped on the Niagara University campus. My sister would be going there in the fall - studying musical theater nonetheless - among the Vincentian monks.

Later that year, I attended a Purple Eagles' basketball game. Ironically, they were playing the University at Buffalo. At this point I knew little of UB. It was simply another college we passed in the car on our way to see my sister at Niagara.

The game was a barnburner, coming down the last final seconds. To the dismay of the home crowd, Turner Battle hit a pull-up jumper from about 15 feet to win the game for the Bulls.

Now, some six years (or maybe more - once you get to be my age, they all seem to run together) later, I found myself on that same court on the second floor of the Gallagher Center. This wasn't the first time I'd played at Niagara since I first watched that game from the stands, but it would be my last.

What a way to go out.

In another tight game, we beat the Purple Eagles 86-80 in front of the usual packed house at Niagara. I texted my sister immediately following the game- needless to say, she was a bit upset.

It's always a thrill playing at Niagara - the gym isn't big by any means (it seats maybe as many people as my high school gym) but the energy the crowd brings is great. I say this mainly because - due to its proximity to UB - there is always nearly as many Buffalo fans in the stands as there are Purple Eagle fans.

This makes for an amazing basketball environment as student sections banter back and forth with increasingly inventive and insulting cheers while the players go at each other on the floor.

::elapsed time: 30 minutes::

So I'm sitting here staring at my computer screen trying to figure out a way to tie up the end of this blog post. As you can see, it's been a half hour and I've got nothing. It's a good thing today was the last day of classes for the semester because I think my mind just left on a little vacation.

Boilermaker

Lost a tough one today at Purdue. We learned a lot I think, and should be able to use this game to help us in the future. They're ranked number four in the nation, and were probably the best team we'll face until the postseason so it was a good experience. Disappointing still, but good.

One burning question remains...what is a Boilermaker?

It's like the age-old question Celtics fans used to post on signs during the epic Boston/LA NBA Finals battles between Larry Bird and Magic Johnson. What's a Laker?

Luckily, we live in 2009 because I googled it.

Apparently a Boilermaker is some sort of craftsman, a steelworker. Good to know.

Thank goodness for Wikipedia.

Now as for a Laker? You're on your own with that one.

Resting up tonight in the hotel. Early wake-up tomorrow before a two-hour bus ride and a 90-minute flight back to Buffalo.

Niagara on Wednesday. Always looking ahead.

Seven and a Half

That monkey was getting heavy.

Getting our first win at home took two games too long, but – like they say – the third time’s a charm. Our win over Army last night gave us this season’s first victory in Alumni Arena.

Late in the first half I caught an elbow (or a shoulder, or a clenched fist) that split my lip open pretty good. According to the rules, if you’re bleeding play stops and you have to come out of the game until you’re all cleaned up.

At this point the game was finally getting some rhythm and I was enjoying myself on the court. Naturally I didn’t want to come out of the game. Here I am, running down the court after my little collision, frantically licking my bottom lip to keep the blood from showing and/or oozing down my face. Blood tastes awful.

I felt like Edward from the Twilight saga (no, I’ve never seen the movies or read the books – I’m not a big vampire guy, but I know about Edward; he’s the main character or something).

Anyway, I made it one time up and down the court before play stopped for a foul. The referee looked at me like I was the childhood monster from his bedroom closet before I admitted to him, “Yeah, I’m bleeding, sir.”

They took me out of the game and I made my way over to our trainer, Jim. After one quick look at my lip, he goes, “Yup,” and calls the doctor down to follow us to the training room.

“Yup,” is pretty much the universal code for, “You’re going to need stitches.”

So Jim and the doctor whisked me away and sewed me right up – I only missed a few minutes of the game and was back out on the floor.

I’m sitting here now trying to count the number of times I’ve gotten stitches (almost exclusively from basketball – the only exception being when I Superman-dove off a couch and the corner of an end-table reached out and punched me in the chin when I was two years old).

Let’s see…seven and a half, final answer. (The half stems from a practice in Las Vegas where Jim was sure I needed stitches. We waited over five hours in an emergency medical center before being informed that the Steri-strips – pretty much little pieces of tape that hold your skin together – were sufficient enough.)

My chin (as mentioned above), the top of my head, twice above each eye, my elbow (ran into the cameraman under the basket) and now my bottom lip. Each instance has its own story and I remember every one vividly.

Long story short, I could pretty much give myself stitches if I had to. It goes a little like this:

Doctor: How’d it happen?
Me: I don’t know, must’ve been an elbow or something.
Doctor: Is your Tetanus shot up to date?
Me: Yes. I get stitches like twice a year.
Doctor: (as he covers my face with white paper – I guess to control bleeding?) Are you claustrophobic? Are you okay with this tissue over your face? Are you allergic to anything?
Me: No. Yes, I’m good. No.
Doctor: Okay, this is the medicine to numb the area. You’ll feel a needle pinch (I hate needles) and then a burn. (he repeats) A pinch and a burn. (again) A pinch and a burn.
Doctor: (as he pokes a needle and thread through my skin) Does this hurt at all?
Me: (depending on whether the medicine numbed the correct area) No, it’s fine. (or) Ahh! Yeah, it does.
Doctor: (usually asks me some random questions about me or the game or the season)
Me: (I politely answer the questions, however vague they may be)
Doctor: Alright, you’re all set.
Me: Thanks a lot

That’s when I take a look at my new battle scar – and in yesterday’s case, my swollen, stitched (only three stitches this time) and un-kissable lip.

But beauty is in the eye of the beholder…

…we won the game – I can deal with drinking sideways out of a straw for a few days.