MANHATTAN, NY – For the third year in a row, Angela (3-0) has thwarted the other family members with her NCAA Tourney picks. Matt (0-3) now owes her three dinners for three consecutive losses after another poor performance – with no help from Tristan (0-2). In fact, Tristan’s upset picks backfired on him as it did last year. The Billikens disappointing tournament showing brought a double dose of pain to this year’s March Madness. Matt and Tristan vow revenge in 2014.
Pick-up basketball was a frequent activity of my youth that continued on through college. After college, life got in the way and opportunities to play naturally dwindled. So it was exciting when the opportunity arose to re-unite with many of my fellow hoopsters in a men’s rec league in the late ’90s.
If memory serves correctly (and that’s an assumption), our first go at it was in a CYC men’s league and we played via Mary Queen of Peace (MQP) courtesy of the Shorey brothers’ and father’s affiliation there. What could be better? Some competitive hoops action to break up the work week, camaraderie with old friends, and although unspoken, a chance for each of us to prove that we belonged on the court – some retribution for being passed over by our high school teams.
We rolled out in silky white uni’s as a very under-sized, but determined group. Oddly I have no group photos, no video (although one existed at one point) of our team. Most of those that participated in my pre-wedding softball game played at one point on the team.
The silky whites – 2013 wrinkled version. The matching jersey is currently in storage. Sorry to disappoint.
The results were nothing short of disastrous.
Our rookie season in 1997 netted us an 0-11 record despite our supposed athleticism, steady practices and access to the MQP Playbook. What was supposed to be an outlet from daily frustrations actually added to them. We were a bunch of smart guys that had no idea how to fix our atrocious play. We underperformed, individually and collectively, in real-game action. Our lack of size was a huge factor. And we were missing a leader on the court. We were all similar in terms of talent and a go-to guy never really materialized. Oddly, we never came to the conclusion that we just stunk as basketball players.
The MQP Playbook was filled with offensive, defensive and in-bounds plays combining word processor text with hand-drawn graphics like the examples above and below.
But our horrific debut season didn’t stop us.
Oh no, we made the jump to YMCA men’s rec basketball and played for three more seasons, to run our franchise record to 3-37-1 (at least 2 of the 3 victories were forfeit wins). Each season the roster was tweaked to add friends and relatives, but the results were the same. We kept stats for seasons 2-4 and the PPG averages for the 6 players that appeared at least once in each of these seasons is telling: Deters 7.1, Shorey 7.1, Bachmann 5.7, Lubbe 4.6, Thomas 3.9, McLaughlin 2.4.
Weak. So weak.
I suppose I was the team’s 3-point guy (hitting 34 threes in seasons 2-4, next highest was 17 by Shorey), but I’m sure I took quite a few more attempts that the other guys. Shorey and I were also the clear leaders when it came to fouls. Shorey trying to play the big man down low; me serving as the super small guy mixing it up with the fat and tall.
Some exceptionally low, low-points: MQP II game on 2/15/98 where our offensive explosion netted us 4 total first half points on the way to a 49-28 defeat and MQP IV games on 2/14/99 and 2/21/99 where we suffered 72-28 and 72-26 beatdowns.
2/15/98: Scorebook indicates 2 field goals for 4 total points in the first half. At least we picked it up in the second half.
We’re closing in on 15 years since these glory days. I believe that the same group of guys today would beat the younger version from years past. I also think we would be much more competitive if we played in the same league.
What am I thinking. We’d probably still stink.
Summertime boredom and a wood burning kit results in a high quality plaque made out of scrap lumber commemorating the birth of Todd Bachmann. Craftsmanship by C.L. and yours truly.
Taking you back to high school with this one.
A Valentine’s Day surprise dinner for my then girlfriend, consisting of McDonald’s served in the partially finished basement of my best friend’s parents’ house. The best friend (thanks C. Lubbe) volunteered to be the waiter. Nothing about this idea sounds good or romantic. It was so ridiculous, it actually worked.
I recall a rudimentary table setting, a playing of Heavy D’s Now That We Found Love What Are We Gonna Do? (available on Chris and Matt’s New Year’s Eve Party Mix Jam 1991) and these fancy menus, dot matrix printed on a manila file folder for the makeshift restaurant, Chez Lubbe:
I ordered off the menu for myself and the girlfriend. The specials, of course. Nothing says “you mean the world to me” like a Value Meal posing as something better.
Absurd. Embarrassing. Hell, it was high school. And perfect material for the WOWBOB blog.
Inspired by B. Pranger’s spirited use of the word nice, a group of us in my college dorm began using an over-the-top pronunciation of the word to convey that whatever was being spoken about was deemed agreeable. Did you hear we won the game by 15? Niiice!
We turned a simple word into more of a phrase, and I was a chief instigator. It came to be known as “verbal italicizing.” We also decided that when the word was written, nice should have three i’s and an exclamation point to reflect the energy behind the usage: Niiice!
This also led to identifying the opposite of Niiice! for situations that required a negative description. That word was deemed Downtrodden! Still “verbally italicized,” but no alteration on the spelling. We are almost out of beer. Downtrodden!
Hand gestures were soon adopted for both Niiice! and Downtrodden! – although I am unsure if these gestures mapped to official sign language.
Sidebar: Urban Dictionary claims a similar usage of Niiice. Our use of said word occurred in 1994-1995 and predates Urban Dictionary, if not most of the web.
My further contribution to the Niiice! phenomenon manifested itself in two ways. The first and most regarded way was the creation of The Niiice! Patrol.
The Niiice! Patrol consisted of riding my bike in the hallway of our dorm’s floor after heavy drinking. My bike was labeled with a cardboard The Niiice! Patrol sign (this sign still exists, currently in storage). I wore a The Niiice Patrol!-labeled helmet, too. Safety first.
Our dorm was an old Ramada Inn, so the hallway was a decent length and the carpeting was thin and worn, meant for high traffic. This allowed me to pick up speed while cycling down the hallway and upon severely jamming on the breaks I could create some serious skid marks. The skids slowly disappeared over time.
It was a spectacle that lasted only a few minutes each time, but was typically enjoyed by those that had imbibed that particular evening.
Now the second manifestation of Niiice! occured at our college’s Winter Break between 1994 and 1995 (or was it 1993 and 1994). I had my eye on a particular girl (now my wife), but she already had a boyfriend that lived down the hall from me. I wasn’t actively pursuing her (yet), but my calculating thought was that if she happened to call me to hang out over break that would be a step in the right direction. Piggybacking on the Niiice! trend, I created some homemade “business” cards with my phone number and handed them out to friends on the floor before the dorm shut down (this was before cell phone proliferation, apps, etc.). There were lots of people I had built strong friendships with that would possibly call me to catch a movie or whatever, but that was secondary to the mission. Of course I made sure the girl received a card.
I can’t tell you why Niiice! was spelled in the traditional fashion here. Maybe it pre-dated our new spelling. Phone number (at my parents’ house) has been removed.
My dad picked me to go home for break and my spider sense was tingling as we neared our neighborhood. We pulled into the driveway and I wasn’t even out of the car yet when my mom called out from the house that someone was on the phone for me.
It was the girl. Niiice!
My mind raced with possibilities as I struggled to actually listen to the words she was saying. Slowly the purpose of her call was made clear to me: she had misplaced her student I.D. and was wondering if I had seen it. Downtrodden!
Um, no, I didn’t see it. The call was short with awkward pauses and forced exchanges of pleasantries. It was then that my mind started to catch up with everything. I began to sense, or maybe I just wanted to sense, that this was not the true reason for her call. I said nothing that would help clarify the situation. We hung up. I never heard from her again over Winter Break, and I did not pursue her because of the boyfriend.
But a New Year’s Resolution was subconsciously rolling around in the back of my head. The rest is history.
New Year’s Eve 2012 was the worst New Year’s of all time. Hands down. It’s usually a disappointing holiday, but this year featured a family-wide stomach virus that had us all seriously ill and contemplating a call for help to 911. We survived – so enough about 2012.
Let’s go back 21 years to 1991. The New Year’s event was your typical fun, courtesy of a J. Lorentz house party and frigid basketball games in the driveway, but it pales in comparison to the legendary soundtrack compiled for the festivities.
I give you Chris and Matt’s New Year’s Eve Party Mix Jam 1991.
The quintessential mix tape recorded in low-def on a middle-of-the-road-quality Maxwell UR 90 cassette featuring “…new high-performance, Pure Crystal magnetic particles.”
It was a phenomenal collection of early ’90s Top 40 woven together by tunes found in every wedding deejay’s top drawer served up with an extra sprinkling of R.E.M. pop.
It felt like cheese then, and it delivers the cheese even today. Why try to even explain it, when the the playlist says it all:
Side A (see cassette tapes had two sides to them youngsters, typically denoted as A and B)
Revolution / The Beatles
Humpty Dance / Digital Underground
Smells like Teen Spirit / Nirvana
Set Adrift on Memory Bliss / PM Dawn
I’m Too Sexy / Right Said Fred
Superman / R.E.M.
End of the World / R.E.M.
So Cruel / U2
We Got the Beat / Go-Go’s
Private Eyes / Hall & Oates
Now That We Found Love / Heavy D and the Boyz
Eye of the Tiger (intro) / Survivor
Thank God I’m a Country Boy / John Denver (remix)
Magic (mix) / The Cars
Side B (once Side A was done youngsters, you turn the cassette over and play Side B – if your boombox didn’t automatically do it for you)
Stand / R.E.M.
Wild Thing / Tone Loc
Just a Friend / Biz Markie
Just Like Heaven / The Cure
Safety Dance / Men Without Hats
Roam / B-52’s
Rush / Big Audio Dynamite II
Shiny Happy People / R.E.M.
Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others / The Smith’s
Pump Up the Jam / Technotronic
YMCA / The Village People
Celebration / Kool & the Gang
I Need You Tonight / INXS
A small insert (not shown) slipped into the cassette says “This album is dedicated to the fallen Magic Johnson & to Larry (#33).”
Make it a resolution to get your hands on a copy of this epic production.
Back in 1987 I was watching the Cardinals get blown out by the Phillies when Manager Whitey Herzog decided to have some fun with his bottom-of-the-8th inning lineup. I kept this newspaper clipping of that lineup and a portion of the article that called out some of the unique changes: Oquendo making his debut as a pitcher, Rick Horton playing right field and Willie McGee at shortstop:
There is no reference to the date of the game on the clippings, but thanks to the internet I was able to quickly identify the contest as August 7, 1987. Here was the starting lineup:
To see all the game’s details, go to baseball-reference.com here. Maybe the most interesting part was that the score heading into the bottom half of the 8th was 12-4 – definitely a large margin, but by today’s standards maybe not quite large enough to start playing guys out of their natural position. On the flip side, it was the dog days of summer and the Cardinals were more than 20 games over .500 at the time.
For the person who seemingly has everything. For that special someone. Or maybe as a treat for yourself. We’ve combed the wow bob archives for seasonal surprises that deliver the perfect message of holiday cheer. Follow along and order soon. Operators are standing by.
Official WOW BOB engraved pencils.
These authentic, machine-crafted wonders come from the original – and only – batch of mail-ordered WOW BOB pencils in existence dating back more than 20 years. Impress friends and elevate your Sudoku game with this functional novelty. Reach for the perfect number two when its time for a number two. Limit 3 per household.
Firework-Torched Toy Remnants: Multi-pack!
Capture the spirit of your favorite summer holiday this winter! These 1980’s Fourth-of-J relics were carefully scorched by my brother and yours truly using only the finest illegally-purchased Illinois fireworks including fire crackers, jumping jacks and other spark-producing varieties. This unique multi-pack features the remains of a rubber Yoda hand puppet with a petrified flower of unknown origins protruding from its gut.
You’ll also receive several blackened, mangled toy cars, a burnt retro Pepsi can and an official toasted Hulk Hogan thumb wrestler doll.
Your torched remnants come in a special collectors tin printed with the hilarious phrase “You Could Help Yourself To My Snacks…But Then I’d Have to Hurt You.” Ha!
This unbelievable collection is yours exclusively through Fort Bachmann. Act now.
Miami Vice Button Series.
Were you a Crockett fan or a Tubbs man? Have them both with our Miami Vice button series. These TV show-inspired pins attach easily to your favorite suit jacket or other formal wear to make the statement you’ve been yearning to make: I am a Miami Vice fan and you need to know it! Quantities limited. We apologize, but all Edward James Olmos buttons are sold out.
Customers Who Bought Miami Vice Button Series Also Bought
Leave it to Beaver Button Series.
Hey Wally, why’s the Beaver got a black eye? Well gosh Eddie, I suppose it’s on account of him being a dumb ass.
White Trash Starter Kit.
We’ve assembled the essentials here for that special redneck on your list. Our White Trash Starter Kit includes a (gently used) Busch Light T-shirt, a 3-pack of (gently used) wife-beater T’s and an official Eckert-Bachmann Bachelor Party beer can koozie.
But wait! Act now and we’ll include this stylish (gently used) White Trash ballcap featuring an icon of a trailer. Just pay separate processing and handling.
Your Starter Kit items will be thrown into a used plastic Wal-Mart bag and twist-tied closed. Guaranteed to bring about a (toothless) smile!
High School Presidential Physical Fitness Award
Remember when you weren’t a fat, lazy pig? When life seemed full of potential and possibilities? Recapture that feeling and boast to your co-workers about what a super athlete you used to be in high school – backed by this authentic Presidential Physical Fitness patch and accompanying letter direct from the White House and Bush, Sr. You may have been a fat pig even in high school, but re-shape your past by tacking up these honorable items in your cubicle. Wow!
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Have a safe and happy holiday season. And watch the booze. Nobody likes a Christmas party drunk.
–Your friends at Fort Bachmann
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The extensive time investment made in watching Ferris Bueller over and over again collided with collegiate ridiculousness. The result was the QBFAN admission test. I’d still rock this test, but admittedly there are questions here that stump even the master. You can pull off these individual jpgs to your desktop for larger viewing or download a complete PDF here.
Athletes. Just pure athletes. Saturday morning. June 24, 2000.
Let’s face it. Nerf Basketball was intended to be a cheap, mass-produced gimmick that promised minutes of entertainment. What actually resulted was years of hard-fought, full-contact, sweat-producing competition with complex rules you established with your brothers and friends to accommodate bank shots, 3-pointers and other trick shots. Goaltending – optional. Fouls – maybe. What might begin innocently enough as a friendly game of horse would soon turn into a floor-shaking, wall-rattling slamfest.
However, for my inner circle, Nerf Hoop will go down as the nutshot heard ’round the world. A knee to the groin (courtesy of C. Lubbe) that resulted in a mother’s consultation, ice and that feeling of fainting oh so close. And laughter from C. He’s still laughing.
(dramatization)
Nerf Basketball also inspired the taking of other indoor, toy basketball games to new levels. Particularly the Little Tykes basketball hoop that we macgyvered by elevating the entire unit another 3 feet or so and set up in the garage:
(representational only)
And then my brother’s classic Chicago Bulls Mini-Hoop.
(representational, not exactly like the one we had)
My propensity for tracking statistics and creating games lead to some less physically intensive Nerf contests. See artifacts below.
Finally, the Nerf obsession lead to the transition of the Chicago Bulls Mini-Hoop to the dorm room (accompanied by Charlie Spoonhour spoonballs), bringing naysayers and fans alike to 717. The famous traveling Cow Trophy (inspired by J. Eckert) associated with our group’s free throw contests is said to still exist and may make an appearance on this site in the future. Stay tuned.
Popularized by K. Ludwig and cronies during our college years, the term “vortex” was used in jest (sort of) when referring to women. As K. Ludwig would competently explain: “the vortex (woman) would suck you in and you would be powerless against her will and unable to extract yourself” – or something like that. Eventually usage of “vortex” evolved from its universal, leery connotation of the spellbinding female species to hone in on an individual vortex, Angela. Referred to as “The Vortex,” K. Ludwig would assert that he was subject to her every whim. Others would simply say he was whipped.
During the height of “vortex” usage amidst our dormitory crowd, I came across these ads for The Vortex Bar and Grill. At the time I was majoring in advertising – and Angela (The Vortex) – and these ads represented a weird intersection of these two interests. I still think they are great and after a quick web search see that the establishment is still going strong in the ATL.
I would be remiss if I failed to mention D. Knoll’s contribution to the popularization of the vortex concept. His enlightenment on the subject may have been captured best during a Spring Break drinking episode: “Here’s to Vortices. May I soon find one of my own.” (He did.)
The 1990s ads:
It’s never too late to start wasting your life. Too bad that’s taken. A perfect tagline for this site.
According to Wikipedia, D.B.’s Delight was a “locally-produced St. Louis, Missouri children’s television quiz show produced by CBS affiliate KMOX-TV (later KMOV), Channel 4. The show ran 30 minutes on Saturdays and Sundays and aired in St. Louis from 1977 to 1988…Each show pitted 4 students from one 6th Grade class in the St. Louis area. The four highest scores were invited to compete in D.B.’s Grand delight.”
When my school’s class participated, Guy Philips from Y98-FM (at the time) was the host.
I was not smart enough to make the cut as a contestant for my grade school, but received air time during the intermission between rounds 2 and 3 when I was selected to tell a pre-screened joke.
My arsenal of clean jokes even at that age was limited and I went with a timeless classic.
What was Smokey the Bear’s middle name?
The honorable D.B. Doorbell (aka the Divine Ding Dong in this segment) successfully guessed the answer.
I received this incredible pennant for my participation.
The answer, of course was: the
The author remains a mystery, but the content extremely familiar, to those that used to call the 7th floor home:
