Hitting the Links

It's Wednesday morning. You might have class, but you might not; and as Mark Twain once said, "Don't let schooling get in the way of your education." You and your friends booked a tee-time at a local golf course and are preparing to hit the links. As all amateur golfers do, you put on the freshest of gear. Some wear visors, some wear pants,  and some wear flamboyant colors. Me, on the other hand, I put on my red dry fit shirt (that happens to have the Nike logo on it) to demonstrate how similar my game is on Wednesday mornings to Tiger Woods' game on Sunday afternoons.

Tiger Woods in his classic "Sunday red." (Photo: Andrew Reddington). 

If you look good, you feel good. If you feel good, you don't necessarily play any better than you would if you were wearing normal clothing, but it's the thought that counts. Stepping up to the tee box, the pressure overwhelms you. Golf is a game of perfection, and if you can just hit your first drive down the middle of the fairway like the professionals do, your friends will surely be impressed. Low and behold, you commence your backswing, everything feels perfect, and then BAM! You pull up too soon and top the ball, roll your wrists over and hook it into the bunker to the left, or in the worst scenario, miss the ball completely, making some sarcastic comment about how you never saw the ball land, while it's still sitting at your feet.

Golf is tough. The only way to get better is repetition. But who has the time during the week or the weekend to play a four-hour round of golf. You know you should slow down your swing and focus on making better contact with the ball, but the slight chance that you happen to connect with a ball with all of your power behind it inhibits you from perfecting your game. You certainly are not driving the struggle bus in this scenario, considering how few people have actually perfected the game of golf, but you may feel like a passenger on it.

In all honesty, getting better at the sport takes years. Instead of making yourself mad that you can't drive the ball 300 yards down the middle of the fairway, be on the green in two shots, and sink your first put for a birdie, stop at the halfway house and get a sandwich and a gatorade (or maybe a beer or five). Enjoy your time on the golf course with your friends; it is too great of a game to be frustrated at.

The not-so New York Giants

I could not tell you the last time the New York Giants started an NFL season this badly. What I can tell you is that since Eli Manning has taken over the starting Quarterback job, we (yes, the Giants and myself) have not had a losing regular season record. How is it possible that a professional football team who won the Super Bowl twice in the past five years starts this season with zero wins and six losses, and finally get their first win in the ugliest of fashions against arguably a bigger laughing stock in the league, the Minnesota Vikings? We are used to winning, not getting ripped on by late-night television hosts such as Jay Leno.

Yet through the toughest six football weeks I have ever experienced, one thing has remained constant. That is this: Dallas Cowboys fans make life harder than it has to be. Coming from New York, where the Giants are clearly the best football team in the state, and now going to school in Texas, where everybody within state boundaries but outside of the Houston area is a fan of the Dallas Cowboys feels like the hardest thing I have had to deal with. It has become part of my daily routine to accept a criticism of the Giants. Just the other day, in fact, I was tossing a football at a nearby park with a bunch of my friends when I happened to make a bad throw. "Good throw Eli," said one of my "friends," kicking me while I was already down.

Eli Manning after throwing one of his 15 interceptions this seasons. A face too familiar to Giants fans across the country (photo: Charlie Reidel). 

Of course this is not a plea for sympathy, as I will admit it is arguably the saddest sports-team meltdown  ever. This is to offer fans like myself who have been "driving the struggle bus" for one too many stops a way to get off. Pump the breaks and look at the bigger picture. The football season is not over. To date, the New York "Football" Giants are still the same Giants, just a little smaller. With a big win against our arch-rivals the Philadelphia Eagles this coming weekend, the ball could start rolling.

Eli Manning is Eli Manning, a high risk-high reward quarterback who will win you some super bowls, but also start a season with six straight losses. Crazier things have happened, such as "The Helmet Catch" in the 2007 Super Bowl, or the Manning-to-Manningham catch that won us the 2011 Super Bowl. We have reached a fork in the road as fans; should we lose games to get a good draft pick, or should we try to turn this season around? As a wise New York athlete named Yogi Berra once said, "when you come to a fork in the road, take it." There is still time to play good football.

Chicken and Waffles

Rolling out of bed is one of the hardest tasks a college student seems to conquer day in and day out. But not all mornings are the same. Personally, I have three different morning routines each week. Two days a week I have to wake up at 8:25 a.m., open my computer, throw in a pair of headphones, and watch my government professor lecture for an hour and 15 minutes, all from the comfort of my own bed. After that, I go back to sleep for at least another hour and a half. Another two mornings of my week begin with an 11 a.m. alarm, followed by a punch at the snooze button, and a slow, "go at your own pace" attitude that brings me into the dining area of my fraternity house for a bite to eat. Of course, those two days end with three back-to-back classes that put a serious damper on my mood. But the last morning is by far the most different from all other mornings. That is because it is Friday morning.

Thursday nights in Austin, TX lead to miserable wake-up calls the following morning. After all, the college weekend starts on Thursday night. Friday's are notorious for headaches, dry mouths, and the need for a black-out curtain. However, after chugging a bottle of chilled gatorade from the mini-fridge at the foot of my bed, I find the power to stumble out of my nest. Living in a fraternity house makes these mornings ever so much more bearable. For some lucky reason, it appears that myself, along with the majority of my brothers living in the house, ingeniously made schedules with no Friday classes for this semester. This, my friends, is a treasure I will try to hold on to for as long as I can. One thing I have learned is that hangovers can be enjoyed by many. Stories can be told about the night before, laughs can be shared, yet everyone feels the same way: hungover.

One of the luxuries of living in a fraternity house is the meal plan. As part of our ridiculous dues, we pay for meals. Meals to be cooked for us approximately 67 steps from a given bedroom. And on Friday mornings, that meal is chicken and waffles, a classic Texas meal that provides all of the grease and fat to put you back to sleep for another few hours, only to wake up in the early afternoon to enjoy the heck out of the rest of your day. It's meal so good that PBS felt the need to write an entire story on it. All of the brothers from the house gather in the dining area, indulging themselves deep into their plates of heaven, all while minimizing that terrible, hungover feeling. It all starts with one meal. The dynamic duo of chicken and waffles helps me get off that "struggle bus," and onto the best of my five days of the week.

Chicken and Waffles (with maple syrup, of course). (Photo: Evan Swigart).