JUMPING OVER THE BOARDS

Over the years, a few sports teams have risen above the rest: The 1972 Dolphins for example. However, as Isaac Newton said: “With every action there is an equal reaction,” and with every great sports team - there is a horrendous one. Introducing my childhood inline-hockey team.

At the season’s three-quarter mark, we had the dubious distinction of being the league’s only winless team. I was the unfortunate soul selected as goaltender. For one particular game, several of our players were out of town, leaving us with a single substitute. To make matters worse, we were playing “The Purple Team.” They had never lost.

Inching nervously out of our dressing room, we saw them. Their mature, muscular bodies towered above us as they whizzed past performing perfectly executed drills. I heard my brother Mike whisper shakily behind me, “We can’t play these guys…they have mustaches!”

The whistle sounded - the game began. The rink morphed into a gladiator coliseum. Our players were...

A Solid 9.5 For Style

The hockey rink. A blissful oasis of joyful memories, where magical moments happen more frequently than within the halls of Hogwarts. A haven of nostalgia, it is a place where friendships are born and battles are won… and for some, a place where we hopelessly attempt to recapture our pre-twenty-college-pound-glory.

Steven Spielberg couldn’t have scripted it any more dramatically. Rallying from a two-goal deficit, my team forced overtime in dramatic fashion. The extra session solved nothing, so the game hinged on the most exciting moment in hockey – the shootout! Back and forth, neither team able to claim the upper hand. Eventually all sixteen players on both teams had tried their luck on the opposing goalie…except for me. Adding to the storybook tilt was my girlfriend. She was visiting me from Canada and two days earlier had become my fiancée. As I took center ice, the fate of the game resting on my stick, I winked to her, “after killer moves I am about to make she’ll never...

Crossing the Rubicon

With one final glance over his shoulder, he confirmed the coast was clear. Breathing in deep – he made a break for it! Sprinting as swiftly as could, he dashed toward the trees bordering enemy lines. Almost there! Carpe Diem! With a graceful leap he crossed into freedom. And then… ZAP!!!!!

The fugitive in this tragic tale is named Chevy… and he is our family dog. He is fluffy, cute, and friendly. Unfortunately, he has also developed the characteristic of being a bit of a brat. His favorite escapades include sneaking late-night snacks from the kitchen garbage and leaving his “duty” in various unwelcome places in the house. However, his favorite trick is to escape!

My family recently migrated down to South Carolina where God has blessed us with a large, beautiful backyard. It was heaven on earth for tiny Chevy, energized by the vast grounds to sniff and play. However, the temptation was too great and old habits die hard; so once the backyard had begun to bore him, Chevy...

Would You Like That Crispy?

The warmth of the bright sun rays bathed my body, as the gentle sound of waves crashing inched me closer into the world of dreams. I had never been to Myrtle Beach before, but as I lay upon its soft sandy shore, I began to wonder how I had lived so long without experiencing this heavenly oasis. Closing my eyes I thought: Can life get any better than this? Perhaps not – but as I awoke the next morning I discovered – it could get worse.

I had gone to bed that night feeling energized and satisfied. Growing up enduring the epic-long winters on the western plains of Canada, my pale skin had been long deprived of sunlight. As I walked upon the beach I vowed to make up for lost time. So when my mother handed me the bottle of sunscreen, I quickly handed it back, “thanks mom… but no thanks. I don’t want anything standing between this body and a quick tan! Besides, I never burn!” When I crawled into bed that night, I dreamed of the bronzed body I soon would be sporting. Comfortably I drifted into sleep, excited to...

Birthday Boy-Who? Just Pass The Cake!

It was a birthday party of unprecedented magnificence! Marie Antoinette would have blushed from the audacious extravagance of it. The decorations were stupendous! And the food…mounds of savory cookies stacked in columns like coins and lush cakes with gluttonous lumps of icing oozing down their chocolaty sides. Over in the corner, I spied a hoard of goodie-bags, brimming over like Santa’s toy sack. The party was perfect in every way! All that was lacking was… well….the birthday boy!

The evening had commenced like most twelve-year-old boy’s birthday parties do, the compact room dense with giggling girls and the paralyzing stench of pubescent boys who had neglected to shower. To kick off the celebration we gathered around the table for games. Then it happened. Having lost game one, the birthday boy hurled the table aside, screaming and launching out venomous accusations at all the “cheaters” who had bested him. This unfortunate spectacle proceeded for several tense minutes before his mother bellowed...

Bears, Stares, & Embarrassing Affairs

Life holds a few absolute formulas which always yield guaranteed results. For example, blue mixed with yellow always produces green. Likewise, e always equals mc² (or so I’m told). A lesser known, but equally valid, equation was recently proven: Daniel + public places = an overwhelming measure of humiliation.

I had only been at the airport a few minutes, but had already checked into the wrong airline and attempted to fill a coke cup with ice, forgetting to remove the lid first. I thought the worst was over. I was wrong…The line of grumbling travelers at the security checkpoint stretched out interminably. However, my impatience quickly evaporated as several young girls filed in behind me. Must be a cheerleading squad, I thought. Quickly deducting they were first time flyers, I puffed out my chest and began to mutter, “This line’s long, but nothing like the lines in Paris. And of course no airport is as bad as Frankfurt…” I nonchalantly opened my passport, revealing a page riddled with international stamps....

AB…D? Please Don’t Fire Me

When you’re like me, lazy and terminally useless, there are few things in life as humbling as filling out a job application:

Name: Daniel R. Blackaby

Previous Work Experience: Every journey starts with a first small step…

Talents/abilities: N/A

Understanding that most businesses were now using my applications as scrap paper and coasters, I almost fainted when I received a call from Eleanor, owner of the local video store, informing me I started on Monday!

I was determined to prove that, though her only choices were hiring me or remaining short-staffed, I’d be a valuable employee. Monday morning I arrived forty-five minutes early…on the dot, looking sharp.

When Eleanor peeled up in her rusty pickup truck, I gave a slight bow, “Greetings my lady.”

She snarled, “You’re in customer parking, move.” In that precise moment I understood I wasn’t exactly going to be working side-by-side with Mother Theresa. In her deep, scratchy voice she barked out my orders for the day. The Open sign was lit, customers...

I’ll Do It! ...Later

I don’t have what you’d call a “driven” personality. My motto is: Why put off until tomorrow what you can put off indefinitely? Over the years I have tested my dad’s patience many times with my token phrase: “I’ll do it later….” I thought I was getting by just fine with this approach to life until last year, during my second semester of college. That was a time when my dad would say: Justice is sweet.

A gentle shake brought my Thursday morning to an unexpected early beginning. Whipping the sleep from my eyes I looked to see my mother standing over my bed, “Daniel, you need to print off your final exam schedule.” Giving an annoyed shrug I muttered, “Ya I know, I’ll do it later,” and I went back to sleep. The day went on, and late that night my dad approached me (for the fifth time!), “Dan, do you have your exam scheduled figured out yet?” Finally the nagging got to me, and I quickly printed off my schedule and went on to bed.

Friday morning came and I was feeling good. Glancing at my exam schedule I saw...

Wrong Place at the Right Time

Books? Check! Pencils? Check! PowerPoint visuals? Check! Notes? Check! Everything was in place to insure an efficient group-project planning meeting. Well, ALMOST everything, there still remained one slightly problematic detail–my entire group was missing.

Group projects are placed right up alongside The Phantom Menace and delayed airplanes on my list of most-frustrating-things. They have long been the bane of my student life for two reasons. First there’s always the major anxiety attack when asked to pick groups. The other beef I have with them is that free-loaders have a field-day with it, chilling out with their cell phones while I write their speeches.

On this particular occasion I arrived promptly at 3:00 pm at room E105, ready to work. Being the first one there I thought I’d save some time and organize our notes and equipment. I glanced at my watch; They’re ALL fifteen minutes late! Furiously I stuck my head into the hall in search for my fugitive group members, but there was no trace. Impatiently I...

Thanks…but no-thanks

As I gazed down in awe at my creation, I realized its design was sure to elevate me into the halls of architectural genius, alongside the Sistine Chapel, the Eiffel Tower, and the Parthenon. It was a gingerbread house like the world had never seen! It was beautiful! It was majestic! It was…Crack!…in need of some minor repairs. As we roll into December, I find myself being swept away by Charles Dickens’ Ghost of Christmas Past to my childhood. It was mid-November and I was already in full gear. Determined to be prepared, I funneled all my efforts into the construction of a glorious gingerbread house to leave for Santa on Christmas Eve.

Architecture is an admirable profession, requiring extraordinary vision and highly developed skills. My handmade organic structure was covered with icing of four different colors, adorned with sprinkles and holding more candy than Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. Michelangelo once remarked of his famous Statue of David that he saw the stone and simply, “chipped away...