I have been dealing with some demons lately. Yes, they are the demons we are all faced with every few years, when a birthday arrives, or a friend seems so much more grounded and mature than you do (and you're thinking "We are young! Why are you so...mature?"), or even when your new co-worker starts saying that Nirvana is classic rock! I have been feeling old lately. Maybe it's the start of the new school year, with all the streets crawling with "innocent" freshman. Anyway, I am not sure what is to blame for my obsessions of late, but I seem to be slipping more and more into my teenage years. Honestly, I feel like I am more like a giddy teenager now than when I was actually enduring those tumultuous years. I have been listening to Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream" and Eminem (what a hottie). I have been reading Twilight (Edward Cullen is like totally awesome). And I have been watching Gossip Girl, like OMG. Does this mean I am reverting to my teenage years? Am I going to wake up with acne and braces tomorrow? Or I am just trying to be forever young? Either way, I have to snap out of it. Bo has had enough, and he tells me that no matter how many times I play Usher's "OMG", he won't dirty dance to it with me. And no matter how much I gush about Edward Cullen, he tells me I should be more interested in David Sedaris. As we get older, is it necessary for our tastes to mature as well? Are we lying to ourselves? Are we cheating ourselves out of melodramatic fun? I say we should take advantage of our youth AND our age, allowing us to appreciate art and yet indulge in the shallow. Really, what could be deeper and more well spoken than Katy Perry's line, "California girls, we're undeniable. Fun, fresh, fierce, we got it on lock!" In any case, I hear 30 is the new 15.
I haven't made a post on music in a while, and I apologize. I have heard some pretty great bands lately, but the artist that I am really stuck on is Lissie. If I was a singer, I would want to be her. She has a great, deep and almost raspy voice that is real (you know what I mean?). Bo and I are trying to play some of her songs and are having a little success. Maybe in a couple months I will post OUR video (which is usually recorded late nights in a bit of a haze). Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this video for her song Wedding Bells. If you do, one of my other favorite songs is Everywhere I Go.
Life with a resident...oh how I could write a book. There are late nights, lots of wine, crying fests with friends, and the the dreaded trying to explain to EVERYONE that they don't understand. Can we plan vacations? No, not until we get the schedule at the beginning of the month. Can we make dinner plans? Yes, only if you can be satisfied with just me, if Bo can't make it. When we do have dinner dates with his resident friends, the majority of the dinner is taken up by talk about the day's surgeries and complications (however, Bo tends to be the one who tries to avoid these the most). My dinners are planned, but not started until I hear from him. And it always takes me a good 30 minutes after he gets home (and a good joke from him) to get over the fact that he hasn't been home for the past two hours that I have expected him. The longer the night is for him, the tipsier the night is for me. There are so many things I have learned. For one, I am more independent than I was before marriage. How many wives can say that? Number two, my husband is brilliant. Literally. He deals with life and DEATH every day, and yet, he is able to come home and play the guitar for me.
Residency is a bitch. But the only advice I can give to future spouses of residents is to live for today. You can look forward to the end of residency and the beginning of a "real job", but your life is happening now and if you miss it, you can never get it back.
As a cook (and in other places ;), I like to think of myself as experimental. Let's be honest, I was raised on Lebanese food punctuated with West Texas, home-grown goods. Whether I was eating Kibbi, grape leaf rolls, pork chops or good-ole Texas steak, I was always comfortable in the kitchen helping Mom prep the dishes. My twenties welcomed French food (merci Ina and Julia) and some dabbling in Italian (grazie Giada). However, there is one cuisine that sends shivers down my spine, freezes my spatula-holding hand, and causes ice cream-eating anxiety attacks, and that is...Thai food. So complex, so many ingredients, soooooo hard. HOWEVER, this weekend, with time and my hubby to boot, I decided to tackle the beast. So, I looked through one of my FAVORITE APPS, Epicurious, and I found a recipe for Grilled Salmon with Thai Curry and Basmati Rice. The recipe was first published in (the now defunct) Gourmet Mag in 1997. So we chopped, we cooked...basically we danced in the kitchen, and at the end of the day (night) we both took a bite,turned towards each other, smiled and gave each other a HIGH FIVE!!!! This recipe was DELISH!!!! Wowza. Here it is:
Ingredients
For Rice: 1 Cup of basmati rice 1 1/2 cup of water 2 Tbsp of butter
For vegetables: 3 Cups finely shredded green cabbage 3/4 Cup julienne strips of seeded cucumber 3 Tbsp finely chopped fresh cilantro 3 Tbsp finely chopped fresh mint leaves 1 Tbsp soy sauce 3 Tbsp rice vinegar, not seasoned 4 six-ounce pieces salmon fillet Olive oil for brushing salmon 1/4 Cup roasted peanuts, chopped
Preparation:
Make rice: Preheat oven to 400 degrees (Fahrenheit that is)
In a saucepan with an ovenproof lid bring rice, water and butter to boil. Bake rice, covered, in middle of oven 12 minutes. Keep warm.
Make sauce: In a heavy saucepan sauté gingerroot and garlic in oil over moderately high heat, stirring, until golden. Add coriander, curry powder, curry paste, paprika, and cumin and sauté, stirring, 1 minute, or until fragrant. Whisk in coconut milk, tomato purée, soy sauce, and brown sugar and bring just to a boil. Remove pan from heat and keep warm.
Prepare vegetables: In a bowl toss together all vegetable ingredients. Prepare grill. Brush salmon with oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste. Grill salmon on an oiled rack set 5 to 6 inches over glowing coals until just cooked through, about 5 minutes on each side. Put rice in center of 4 plates and arrange salmon on top. Top salmon with vegetables and spoon sauce around it. Sprinkle vegetables with peanuts.
It is with a coin toss that the breath-taking action begins. A group of well-muscled men wrap their arms around one another in almost an embrace. It is not with love for one another but a precursor to a game that will most certainly be inundated with aggression and raw strength. It’s a battle. It’s a game. It is a game filled with tradition and passion. The sound of breath-taking hits (literally) and grunt filled scrums, drown the audience cheering for their favorite teams. It is the game of rugby, but in some countries, it is more than a game, it is a lifestyle, and at times, a religion. But it has yet to be accepted as a collegiate varsity sport in America.
When examining popular sports in America, hardly any sport can tackle the phenomenon that is American football. Since 1965 professional football has ranked as the most popular American sport according to the Harris Poll, beating out number two, baseball, almost two to one. However, across the pond from the U.S. and around the world, another sport reigns supreme. Rugby, often referred to as a hooligan’s sport played by gentleman, has a following that spans nations and generations, and in at least one instance, has bonded a divided nation.
But why has rugby not taken off in the States as it has in other countries? Some argue finance and others say nothing can beat the popularity of American football. The UK paper Wales On Sunday published an article examining the ties and financial differences between football and rugby. “American football and rugby union have always been intrinsically linked. Rugby union forms the basis of the multi-million dollar world of the NFL across the Atlantic… There is no doubt the NFL has left the game it originated from miles behind when it comes to professionalism, money and sheer show business” (“Union”, 2008, p. 16). Kids in America can quote Yogi Berra no matter their age, most (but not all) can tell you which direction Babe Ruth called his shot. They know how much the highest paid football player makes, and they surely know the number one draft pick. Yet it is not until their mid-twenties do they even learn of the game of rugby. “Rugby… has not caught on in America in part because football is ingrained as the nation's sports. Organized American rugby competes against the cash-rich football industry from the youth level to the NFL” (Lewis, 2009, p. 1C). Similar to soccer, which continues to compete against the NFL for face time, rugby’s popularity worldwide is undeniable. According to the International Rugby Board, the governing and lawmaking body of rugby union, rugby’s World Cup is the third largest sporting event in the world, just behind the summer Olympics and soccer’s World Cup. “More than 2.25 million fans attended the 2007 Rugby World Cup and about 4.2 billion television viewers tuned in globally” (“Rugby”, 2009). Even though the steps may be small, Americans who are loyal to rugby are making progress in promoting their beloved sport, and game’s impact on America continues to grow. Even though the US national team, the Eagles, is ranked 17 in the world and is considered a “second-tier” team “the sport is growing nationally. USA Rugby has more than 2,000 clubs and 65,000 players registered. More than 22,000 are classified as Teen Male players, ensuring the sport's next generation is prepared” (Lewis, 2009, p. 1C). However, in countries where rugby reigns supreme, kids play entry-level rugby barefoot at the age of four, tackling like Troy Polamalu, evading defenders like Barry Sanders. Men’s rugby teams can be found in most cities across the country. These teams are composed of professional men who are willing to spend 3-4 evenings a week away from work and their family to be a part of a community of athletes. Most could be described as weekend warriors, some pride themselves on their party habits, but all identify themselves as rugby players. Besides the occasional weekend pick-up game of basketball, no other sport has this type of organized following. The rugby community is small but passionate with deep ties and a common goal to increase the game’s influence in America. With the hard work of organizations such as USA Rugby and the US Collegiate Rugby Association, along with word of mouth support from players, small steps are being made toward increasing support and participation in rugby. Americans are slowly popping up in European leagues, such as the Super 14. An even larger number of foreigners are popping in up in American rugby leagues, most pursuing the prosperity that America has to offer but not wanting to let go of their roots. “Rugby people of several generations say the sport is taking off in the United States, with a 25 percent rise in registered players since 2005” (Vecsey, 2009, p. 19). In just the past year, rugby has made a number of appearances in the country’s headline news. On October 9, 2009, the International Olympic Committee voted to re-instate rugby as an Olympic sport to be played in the 2016 Rio de Janeiro games. This was a huge step for the rugby supporters. 1924 was the last time the game made an appearance at the Olympics. In one of the most memorable rugby matches, the United States clutched the gold away from the French team on their home turf. The Sydney Morning Herald described the scene, “The Americans had their clothes stolen during a training session, and some were spat upon in the streets. A tall wire fence was erected inside the stadium to restrain the chauvinistic crowd baying for a French win. The American anthem was booed by a crowd of about 40,000 spectators. The American 17-3 victory led to further disruptive behaviour by the incensed spectators” (Zavos, 2008, p. 34). Rugby associations across the world look at the inclusion in the Olympics as a huge step for rugby globally. With the interest of Americans and their money, rugby could possibly become a more profitable sport. “Rugby has spent years trying to penetrate the huge markets of China, India, Russia and the Americas and now has the perfect tool” (Kitson, 2009, p. 13). Even though the US national team, the Eagles, will be playing in the Olympics, their competitors will most likely have much more experience and practice time. It was not until 1995 that the International Rugby Board allowed players to get paid. Before that, the game was about pride for one’s country and the spirit of competition. Today, the salary of a rugby player can range anywhere between 100-650 thousand dollars. That salary does not include endorsements and bonuses such as New Zealand promising to “pay its players a $100,000 bonus for selection to the national team. Players also receive a share of the national team's revenue” (Lewis, 2009, p. 1C). In an article published in the New Zealand Herald, former All Black captain Stu Wilson talks about the consequences of the game being made professional, saying “back then players played for the love of the game whereas nowadays it is a career” (2010, sports section). However, in America, rugby players still play for the spirit of the game. “The U.S. team is composed of amateur players who receive small per diems from USA Rugby while competing at the highest level in one of the world's most popular and dangerous sports. Ranging in age from 19 to 35, the 33-man team is a microcosm of America, counting among its players is an Air Force lieutenant, college students, teachers, bankers, security guards and fathers” (Lewis, 2009, 1C). USA Rugby believes there is a misconception across America that rugby is a game full of fights, whose players are missing teeth and can most likely be found at the bar imbibing more than a normal amount of beer and singing songs that would make any mother slap their heathen son. Unlike American football, where players are padded from almost head to toe, rugby players “dress for the game like soccer players, with no pads or protection beyond, sometimes, mouth guards and leather helmets designed to prevent cauliflower ear” (Crisp, 2009). Videos are swarming YouTube showing “rugby’s most brutal hits” and bloodied players screaming on the field.
What American parent is going to want their little kid to be associated with that kind of aggression? And if America does start embracing rugby, how will the transition be from football hits to rugby hits. In an article published by Scripps Howard News Service, author John M. Crisp believes the transition would be a tough one, stating “Because behind the protection of high-tech helmets, shoulder pads, hip pads, knee pads, and so on, young American boys learn to think of their bodies as invulnerable missiles to be hurled sacrificially at a target without much consideration for the consequences. Therefore they never learn how to protect themselves on the playing field or, so the British rugby players reasoned, their opponents” (Crisp, 2009). But does more protective gear mean more protection? Crisp thinks not, commenting, “The fact is, if we really were interested in making football safer for the players, we would provide them with less protection, rather than more, which might encourage their natural instinct toward self-preservation to take over, much as it does in rugby.” (Crisp, 2009). Even in Scotland, where rugby is the most popular sport, public health officials are questioning the safety of letting school children play rugby. In 2008, London’s Daily News published an article on the dangers of rugby for pupils, stating, “Scotland’s poshest schools were yesterday accused of putting children in unnecessary danger by forcing them to play rugby” and that “one of the nation's leading public health advisers, claimed teachers were encouraging 'aggressive, gladiator-style behaviour' that led to 'totally avoidable injury'” (Bugler, 2008, p. 33). In my thesis, I would like to investigate through interviews, research and first hand account, the state of rugby in America. Why is it not profitable? Is it due to the set up of the game? Or is that American’s have already chosen their heroes in football players? What does it take to promote a sport? What would happen if American rugby became professional? Would the spirit of the game be lost as some say has happened with professional football? What are the statistics in injuries in football versus rugby? Are players more at risk because they do not wear any protection, or are they less likely to take such hard, out-of-control hits? What impact does rugby have on its players in their professional lives? Is there an underground “fraternity” that allows its members connections and privileges they may not have had without rugby. Article I am proposing to write: 1. History of Rugby in America 2. The State of Rugby in America 3. The Beckham of Rugby 4. A Day in the Life of a Rugby Player (my first-hand account) 5. The Business of Rugby: How to make Rugby Profitable 6. The Future of American Rugby-from the Olympics and Beyond 7. Youth Rugby 8. Comparison of injuries in American Football vs. Rugby and/or American rugby vs. Foreign Rugby 9. Social Ties: Rugby as a Fraternity
I was walking into Subway to grab a sandwich after a long morning of work. Out of nowhere, a lady, who was obviously in a rough patch of life, came up to me and asked if I could help her. I offered to buy her a sandwich, in which she gladly accepted. We walk in...the servers take her order...she starts YELLING at them that they are making the sandwich all wrong. The workers barely spoke English...the fight (and my awkwardness of being associated with this lady) escalated...much was lost in translation...and a final product of white bread with mayonnaise first, two pounds of pickles, no tomatoes, 6 banana peppers, 4 cucumbers, salt, pepper, and two slices of turkey was born--to be exact.
Now, I don't mean to be cynical...but wouldn't it have been sufficient to just have ordered a plain turkey sandwich and said a simple thank you? hmmm
I woke up this morning, and while my eyes were still shut, my ears perked up to the sound of a drip drop outside my window. It must be raining. I love the rain. I truly look forward to it, and ever since I packed my bags and moved from my childhood home in the desert of Texas, rain has gradually become more and more a part of my life. Gainesville has a rainy season, where it rains pretty much every day. In my tiny garage apartment in Houston, I would bundle up in a blanket and sit by the window watching the raindrops slither down. But it was during my time at Baylor that rain created the story that I am about to tell. I can't even remember if it was fall or spring, but after being cramped up in our dorms rooms all day, my friends and I decided to get out. It was the rain that precipitated a dashing game of mud flag football between a bunch of co-eds (okay, so maybe it was just my girlfriends. I just wanted it to sound like I hung out with boys in college.) We were only freshman (shout out to The Verve Pipe!) and we were about to gain a big lesson in checking out your surroundings before partaking in any spontaneous sports games. (To this day, this lesson has served me well. Just the other week, I was planning to dust off my old basketball and shoot a few hoops. Luckily, I "checked out my surroundings" and found out the court was actually sinking sand. Close call!) I digress...back to Waco...Next door to our chosen playing field was Brooks dorm. I was a beautiful old building, but after years of college kids running through its halls, Brooks' functionality and construction had begun to wither. Unfortunately, I think I have been out of college long enough to say this building has been torn down. It any case, when I was at Baylor, Brooks was where all the "smarties" lived...Okay, I am going to stop being polite and be honest...I am sure there were some exceptions, but Brooks was the DORK dorm. I am talking tape on the bridge of their glasses, pants above their belly button, and snort-filled laughter nerds. (Who probably own the banks that I am borrowing money from right now.) AS we were gleefully playing in the "mud" that day and with each play that was made, a stench began to waft into the air. I suppose we paused a moment to ponder the reason, but the energy and competition of the game got the better of us and we declined to investigate further. If you don't know me, I must let you in on a little secret. I have SKILLZ when it comes to full contact sports. (There should be a typing symbol for sarcasm). Anyway, in what I remember as a pivotal play in the game, I ran with the ball toward the goal line, pushing off a Tri-Delt and a Kappa, running over a Pi Phi and finally sliding past the line face first to take the score! My newly dyed red hair (anyone remember that?) was matted with mud and I had a little piece of mud pie in my mouth. But victory was mine. As I was doing my victory dance (my signature is the "shower" move, lather it up and wash it off!), I began to notice everyone inspecting their skin. Now, it was well known on campus that the dilapidated Brooks had been dealing with plumbing problems for quite some time, but it wasn't until our skin began to break out in rashes and someone mentioned the word "manure" that we realized what we had been so enthusiastically playing in. The game was over. We trudged back to Collins in silence. I am sure that we thought our lives were over. But in the end it all washed off of us. And the nerds got their revenge. They @#$% on us.
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