For those of you unfamiliar with the many different distinguishing characteristics of this special little town of South Bend, allow me to enlighten you with yet another fun fact: South Bend is home to North America's very first artificial whitewater waterway...Didn't know that did you? Yea baby - nothing like a first-mover advantage (love the MBA-speak)... the South Bend course was the first of four now scattered throughout the country. Why, you ask? Well, thanks to some limited research (Wikipedia) the answer seems to be that these courses were built as training grounds for Olympic athletes to prepare for the Games' whitewater events. While South Bend was once home to such training, the official US National Whitewater Center, constructed in 2000, is located in Charlotte and serves as the venue for most of the training these days (They teach us that the first-mover advantage always wears off...). For you Wednesday night 'Wings n Trivia' regulars, the other two sites are in MD and TN.
The East Race Waterway, as it's called, now falls under the domain of South Bend Parks and Recreation Department. It opens during the summer on weekend afternoons for the local daredevils to taste for themselves what if feels like to fight the 1900 feet of scale 2 rapids. For just $5, anybody measuring in at a minmum of 4'6" can take the quick ride...a pretty tame exercise for even the most risk averse...With the summer program winding down (1 week left before a 2 week recess) us 1 yr students realize that without immediate action, our opportunity to brave this unique experience would soon be gone...and so it was that this past Saturday afternoon, a group of 10 MBA students took to the river each with 5 bucks, a pair of water shoes and expectations for not much more than a checkmark on the list of 'Only in South Bend'...
I should start with a little background...scale 2 rapids may not mean much to the rookie rafter, but for those of us with experience riding the safetynet-free waves of Mother Nature's scale 4 rapids, you'll have to excuse our yawn...you see, during the summer of my 14th birthday, the McEvily family vacation took us out West for a 5 day rafting excursion down the Green River and through the canyons of Utah...a great vaca that produced some unforgettable memories and, apparently, a touch of whitewater hubris that lingered untested for the next 12 years...
Getting back to present day South Bend...We arrive at the course, buy our tickets from the hotdog stand (I know what you're thinking but sadly no pre-game corndogs) and break up in to smaller teams. The combination of Garner, Shirley (male classmates), and McEvily develops a natural rapport and forms a smaller team of just 3...(Perfect, less of chance for novice rafters to get in my way)...we select our life vests, helmets and the winning raft before setting out down to the launching dock...."So, is this your first ride?" says the blonde lifeguard (full tattoo running down her right thigh) as she grabs the raft from us (the same one just requiring the efforts of three grown men to transport)..."Yep"..."OK, then let me give you my safety spiel..." As she goes on to describe the depth of water (~3ft), positioning of lifeguards (every couple hundred yards) and the proper "Rescue Me" technique (on your back, feet up, blah, blah, blah), I'm about ready to interrupt with, "Uh, Have you ever heard of the Green River? I think I'll be OK, Thanks..." but discretion gets the better of me...She pushes us off with one final piece of advice: "make sure to lock your feet into the sides of the boat or the seat in front of you for better balance"...and just like that, we're off...
...the current gradually picks up a bit and we can now see an approach to some white water...we attack it head on ready for some action...here we go...annnnnnd....Oh...Are you serious? THAT was IT??? ...what a bore...at least it'll be over in 5 minutes...current picks up some more....next rapid - half a step up...wonder why they even bother with lifeguards out here...next rapid - little more challenging...hey, this is close to being fun...the next one now in our sights...looks like a fair amount of white...we might actually get some splash here..."Yo Shirley, what are you doing? Why is the boat turning sideways?"..."You got me!"...we're now hitting the rapid sideways...no big deal..."Man, you guys should've seen me on the Green River..."...the sideways approach seems just fine...Hey, look - there's our other group walking back....wait a minute..."Dude, we're stuck!"...the raft, still sideways, is at the bottom of the current rapid while a mini waterfall effect prevents our progress down stream...A rush of current hits us from the side annnnnd....yep, you got it - the dreamteam capsizes (those Greek Gods always punish hubris)...
...ahhhh, water not too cold, this aint so bad, good way to cool off...I pop up from underwater and notice Shirley now floating down the river too...wait, I'm under again...something’s off here...Ahhh, Shoot!...my foot is caught in the boat (wedged under the seat in front of me, of course)....can't shake it loose!...up for air again...back under...the raft is now floating down stream with a Tuna hanging from its starboard!...can't break out...oh boy...is this it?...3ft of water on a manmade whitewater course with scale 2 rapids...what a way to go... thoughts flashing through my mind…I wonder how many people would come to my funeral...Definitely should have gone on that Brazil trip... Can't believe I missed that three in the '05 tournament game...FINALLY, the seat in front of me gives a little bit and the foot shakes free...PHEW!...OK, what was it that she said about the "Rescue Me" position...floating on my back...feet up...a lifeguard is now in sight and shouting instructions....he throws us (Shirely 5 ft ahead of me) each a rope...lifeguards from both sides of the waterway are delivering instructions...total confusion....what the HECK is going on here...there is only 3 feet of water!...this guy is struggling with his biggest catch of the day...Garner meanwhile finds his way back to the raft but clearly losing command of the vessel on his own and finds himself once again in the water! He's looking back at us, deer in the headlights...the two lifeguards on the other side are now yelling obscenity-laden orders at him…“Get back in the boat immediately!”… they think he's intentionally jumped overboard...He's yelling back, "CHILLOUT!"…superman lifeguard is pulling two of the biggest goofballs the St. Joseph's has ever known to shore while Garner manages to fight his way back to the raft...what the F just happened?!?! I notice our classmates, who have just witnessed this very embarrassing spectacle, are now across the way doubled over and laughing uncontrollably...
Shirley and I are dripping wet and walking to the end of the course to meet up with our team's sole survivor...having a pretty good laugh ourselves...Through plenty of tries and lots of duds, the guy seems to have really taken pride in having a one-liner for any situation (better known as Shirleyism's): "Well, I guess you can chalk that up to something that looks a whoooole lot easier than it really is"...There it is - a perfect delivery.
Indeed, only in South Bend...
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
The Decision
Shifting gears from the social scene to the academic schedule, we just recently finished up a week-long session of career development where critical skills like interviewing, job searching, networking and dinner table etiquette were hammered home...very important things that I was receptive to learning all about...but I just couldn't help myself from daydreaming during the afternoons about that glorious moment at some point in the near future when I finally decide which of the 10 different 6 figure job offers (dream sequence) is the best for me (they all swear the job market will be ready for us): Should I announce the decision in a more traditional way by making a phone call to both the winner and losers of the McEvily Sweepstakes.... orrrrrrrr, should I announce the decision quietly through this blog and let the scores of followers (employers included) find out all at the same time (call it the Kevin Durant style) orrrrrr, better yet, should I call up CNBC, request to have a 1 hr special a week from now, sell out to a bunch of sponsors, let the entire world fixate on me and only me for a couple of days, pretend like the decision really hasn't been made, take a bunch of bullsh*t questions from Jim (Cramer of course; I'm not lame enough to sit down with Grey), before finally announcing to the world (and my parents for the first time) that I've decided to pursue a career in subprime lending on the other side of the country (Sorry Mom, I'll fully expect you to write a seething letter about your son's bloated ego and sense of entitlement).....hmmmm, Durant or Lebron?....Tarantula or King James?....this is tough....what to do....
Shoot! Back to reality...the career coach with the microphone in hand now circling the room cold calls on me, "So Brian, how about you? What do you think your biggest strengths and weaknesses are and how do you expect to convince a hiring manager in an interview that you are the only candidate for the job?"...uhhh....well....I guess I'm pretty good at...uhh...Hey, have I told you about my blog?
Here's hoping for tough decisions in the next 6 months...
Shoot! Back to reality...the career coach with the microphone in hand now circling the room cold calls on me, "So Brian, how about you? What do you think your biggest strengths and weaknesses are and how do you expect to convince a hiring manager in an interview that you are the only candidate for the job?"...uhhh....well....I guess I'm pretty good at...uhh...Hey, have I told you about my blog?
Here's hoping for tough decisions in the next 6 months...
Sunday, July 11, 2010
When In Rome...
...do as the Romans and when in South Bend...well, go the local Demolition Derby. Yea baby, nothing like the smell of fire and oil to bring the kids out for this week's family affair.
Having a grand ol' time out here in Indiana and taking full advantage of all that that the area has to offer...btw, in case you were wondering, the star of the show last night at the Derby was a 14 year old kid (who looked not a day older than 12). He lasted until the final heat and cemented his status as the fan favorite (and true winner) as he climbed out of the opening where his station wagon's windshield used to be to jump up and down on the hood of his car...
Having a grand ol' time out here in Indiana and taking full advantage of all that that the area has to offer...btw, in case you were wondering, the star of the show last night at the Derby was a 14 year old kid (who looked not a day older than 12). He lasted until the final heat and cemented his status as the fan favorite (and true winner) as he climbed out of the opening where his station wagon's windshield used to be to jump up and down on the hood of his car...
Nothing like a jumbo corn dog and fifth row seats to the best that the St. Joe's 4H County Fair has to offer. Pretty embarrassing moment actually when I went to order that Jumbo sized corn encrusted foot long hot dog..."so, how do people usually eat these things?", I ask the girl at the window who kindly served us...you know, like standard ketchup/mustard or is there something even cooler made specifically for corndogs that I don't know about...is what I was thinking...in case you were wondering, there's not and what I thought was a legitimate question turned out to be just the opposite: Her mouth went straight to the floor, she looked me dead in the eyes and asked, "Wait, you mean you've never had a corn dog???" Thankfully, Emily has gotten pretty good at apologizing for her boyfriend and shoved me in the direction of the condiment stand before any further embarrassment...the corndog, for any other CD virgins out there, turned out to be damn good too with nothing more than a little yellow mustard.
When we're not getting down with the locals at the county fair, it's college as usual...last week, after gutting through a double final Friday, it was about time to host the first house party of the summer and I was proud to offer up 109 N. St. Peter St as the spot. Went out, bought a keg, enlisted some help for food (lights out buffalo chicken dip from Martha Malinowski), and picked up some ping pong balls...I'm going colllllleggggge all the way baby...keg stands and beer pong until 4am!!! So I send out the invitation through facebook - party starts at 9pm...first guest shows up at 9:30 with the classic look of fear that any first-to-arrive guest usually has: "Oh man, did I miss the party??" he says as he looks back at his car (the only one on the street) hoping for an easy out...Nope, you're the lucky one!...come onnnn in and help yourself to some buffalo dip and a beer (or about 25 because I'm not so sure anyone else is going to show)…. As luck would have it, he was the first of about 50 and it turned out to be a decent little shindig. Not much beer pong (or keg stands for that matter...disappointing, I know) but we did drum up a rowdy game of flip cup on the back deck… for about 10 minutes or so, until the party was officially christened an authentic Colllleggge house party when, from inside the house, I hear. "Oh, $hit. Where's Brian?!...the cops are here and they want to talk to whoever lives here". Certainly not unfamiliar words for a college kid, but as I find my way outside, thoughts of my brother's somewhat harrowing experience hearing those same words run through my mind (as a 20 year old, he bravely answered to a similar request in Chestnut Hill, only to find out that the Boston PD has a real ballbusting policy for honest kids who take responsibility for the cowardice of drunk and incoherent roommates who actually threw the party in the first place...but I digress). Anyway, without any roommates to dump this one on, I am introduced to Officer Kelly who promptly asks for identification...he takes a peek at the Jersey license and after finding the birth date, we all notice his face drop just a bit, "Damn, this guy’s 26 years old. Not the underage bust we were hoping for as we listened from the street. Better make up something about the neighbors calling in a noise distrubance"...he tells us to move it inside and keep it down. "No problem, nice to meet you Officer Kelly, looking forward to seeing you again soon..." 1 party, 1 visit from the cops...what a badass (just don't mind the white chinos and purple golf shirt ensemble while I obediently act on the SBPD demands)... after the run-in with officer Krupkie, errr I mean Kelly, the crowd slowly thins…ahhh, NOW it's starting to feel more like college again…
Indiana’s not so bad after all…We’re making do with what we got…Next party, it’s definitely buffalo dip AND corndogs.
When we're not getting down with the locals at the county fair, it's college as usual...last week, after gutting through a double final Friday, it was about time to host the first house party of the summer and I was proud to offer up 109 N. St. Peter St as the spot. Went out, bought a keg, enlisted some help for food (lights out buffalo chicken dip from Martha Malinowski), and picked up some ping pong balls...I'm going colllllleggggge all the way baby...keg stands and beer pong until 4am!!! So I send out the invitation through facebook - party starts at 9pm...first guest shows up at 9:30 with the classic look of fear that any first-to-arrive guest usually has: "Oh man, did I miss the party??" he says as he looks back at his car (the only one on the street) hoping for an easy out...Nope, you're the lucky one!...come onnnn in and help yourself to some buffalo dip and a beer (or about 25 because I'm not so sure anyone else is going to show)…. As luck would have it, he was the first of about 50 and it turned out to be a decent little shindig. Not much beer pong (or keg stands for that matter...disappointing, I know) but we did drum up a rowdy game of flip cup on the back deck… for about 10 minutes or so, until the party was officially christened an authentic Colllleggge house party when, from inside the house, I hear. "Oh, $hit. Where's Brian?!...the cops are here and they want to talk to whoever lives here". Certainly not unfamiliar words for a college kid, but as I find my way outside, thoughts of my brother's somewhat harrowing experience hearing those same words run through my mind (as a 20 year old, he bravely answered to a similar request in Chestnut Hill, only to find out that the Boston PD has a real ballbusting policy for honest kids who take responsibility for the cowardice of drunk and incoherent roommates who actually threw the party in the first place...but I digress). Anyway, without any roommates to dump this one on, I am introduced to Officer Kelly who promptly asks for identification...he takes a peek at the Jersey license and after finding the birth date, we all notice his face drop just a bit, "Damn, this guy’s 26 years old. Not the underage bust we were hoping for as we listened from the street. Better make up something about the neighbors calling in a noise distrubance"...he tells us to move it inside and keep it down. "No problem, nice to meet you Officer Kelly, looking forward to seeing you again soon..." 1 party, 1 visit from the cops...what a badass (just don't mind the white chinos and purple golf shirt ensemble while I obediently act on the SBPD demands)... after the run-in with officer Krupkie, errr I mean Kelly, the crowd slowly thins…ahhh, NOW it's starting to feel more like college again…
Indiana’s not so bad after all…We’re making do with what we got…Next party, it’s definitely buffalo dip AND corndogs.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Basketball Without Whistles
The life of a "baller" on the pickup court years after any meaningful competitive action can sometimes be a rather pathetic existence. We cling to any remaining trace of skill that once existed and occasionally test the boundaries of old...sometimes it's an aggressive shot selection that completely misses iron (airball) or a move to the lane that once worked (that is, until you forgot how to dribble with your left hand), or it could be a lefty hook that you never had the balls to shoot in a real game but now take with reckless abandon without the slightest regard for "time and score"...19 out of 20 times these attempts end in total disaster and can severely impact interaction with your friends for the evening...buuut, just like that perfect 7 iron to 2 feet on hole 11 en route to shooting a 117, there's always one shot, no matter how bad things are, that keeps you coming back for more every time.
Ultimately, we all find ourselves at some point during the 'afterlife' falling victim to something that is even more pathetic than the actual spectacle itself - actually thinking about and reliving the experience post mortem. It isn't enough that we waste two hours of every week playing the game....nope, we waste even more time daydreaming about it. Might be that perfectly tossed pass in transition or it could be a game winning jumper...OR, maybe it's a really bad turnover that lost the game (possibly a full court pass attempt from under your own basket with 3 seconds left, up 3 that hits the ceiling eventually resulting in a made three at the buzzer from your opponent and a loss in 2OT...idk, just a random example)...the point is - basketball remains a pretty highly anticipated weekly event for us has-beens and the results can often induce a "wish I had that one again" type of a reaction... one that's been known to linger... it's widely believed that Steven P. Erfle's experience at his own wedding was a 9.5 (out of 10) because he went 0-fer at Ursinus that morning...and it would have been only a 9 if not for the ride of his life during the "Hora" (chair dance)... See, I told you - really, pretty pathetic...
So the other night, immediately following the IPO, I received a call from an old colleague (who happens to be a self-titled Associate Head Men's Basketball Coach). It was a call in direct response to the blog posting and began with a very pointed question, "So, how much are you looking to get from MTV for dropping their show in your blog?"...I told you, this guy definitely spends too much time out here...Annnnyway, after explaining that there are no financial incentives behind this blogger's motives (so far. make me an offer) and after getting through the standard pleasantries that former colleagues typically share, I soon learned that he was "Ranging" down to the shore (he drives a white range rover) with his brother sitting shotgun. His brother, who happens to also be a good friend, is a newly minted college grad. I told him to say hello for me and I asked him how he was doing...a question to which the reply came back without a moment's hesitation: "He's doing pretty good...tough out there but he's working real hard to make his own opportunities...things are going to come together soon for him...his guy scored on him a couple of times but he went to the rim solidly at least twice tonight". It was only halfway through that I realized he wasn't talking about his kid brother trying to land a job during double digit unemployment...No, much more importantly, it was a coach's/brother's interrpretation of his play only minutes earlier...(with the honesty that only an older brother could deliver). Even sadder, I quickly forgot, myself, all sense of reality and started to ask details of the game...pathetic? Definitely. But a welcomed interruption to a night of statistics and accounting homework.
OK, so before signing off, I leave with a quick story about the 1 out of 20 that keeps you coming back...earlier this week I received an invitation to summer pickup from our classmate in the MBA program, Tim Abromaitis...quick bio - he graduated in three years and is making use of NCAA eligibility by pursuing a graduate degree...oh, and he'll probably be with your favorite NBA team next season...(a little different than ballroom dancing classes while Mom hangs out on scholarship in SoCal...btw, the BushPush has now been officially eradicated from the books. Never happened. ND won.) ... getting back to the story - I said that I'd be happy to play as long as they weren't looking for anything more than just another body to make 10. Ok, Great - Monday afternoon at 5:30 it is. I end up meeting Mr. NBA at about that time. Takes me back through the lockerroom; pretty sweet digs - plasmas, video games and leather couches for the "lounge" (I mentioned we were fundraising for a new lockeroom rug back in C-ville). We suit up and hit the floor. It's a smattering of current players, buddies still on campus and some alums back from playing overseas looking to stay in shape. Ends up being a good run and I hold my own (not completely embarrassing the family name) until an opportunity in transition materializes...I receive the outlet off a miss at the right hashmark. Just me and the 6-10 guy who's got a pretty good start and is defending the very hoop that I have my eyes on...I can see him salivating in my peripheral vision...I'm lining up the layup and I know he's asking himself if I'm really going to attempt it...hell, I can feel everyone else in the gym thinking the same thing (Think Sandlot scene where first fly ball is hit to Smalls in left and everyone else watches with one eye closed)...I bravely go up for the attempt - take off from the left foot...ball in right hand...he leaves the floor fully anticipating the spike....Then, a quick shift from the right to the left and I sneak it in for two. The classic lefty layup from the right side of the court!!!!...if there's such a thing as a patented move for a washed up DIII whiteboy, mine is this. Every once in a while you can catch an unsuspecting poor soul...in this case - the victim was the 6-10 kid who plays in the Big East.... 0-5 from three? Slept like a baby that night.
1 in 20. I'll take it every time. So, when are we playing next?
Ultimately, we all find ourselves at some point during the 'afterlife' falling victim to something that is even more pathetic than the actual spectacle itself - actually thinking about and reliving the experience post mortem. It isn't enough that we waste two hours of every week playing the game....nope, we waste even more time daydreaming about it. Might be that perfectly tossed pass in transition or it could be a game winning jumper...OR, maybe it's a really bad turnover that lost the game (possibly a full court pass attempt from under your own basket with 3 seconds left, up 3 that hits the ceiling eventually resulting in a made three at the buzzer from your opponent and a loss in 2OT...idk, just a random example)...the point is - basketball remains a pretty highly anticipated weekly event for us has-beens and the results can often induce a "wish I had that one again" type of a reaction... one that's been known to linger... it's widely believed that Steven P. Erfle's experience at his own wedding was a 9.5 (out of 10) because he went 0-fer at Ursinus that morning...and it would have been only a 9 if not for the ride of his life during the "Hora" (chair dance)... See, I told you - really, pretty pathetic...
So the other night, immediately following the IPO, I received a call from an old colleague (who happens to be a self-titled Associate Head Men's Basketball Coach). It was a call in direct response to the blog posting and began with a very pointed question, "So, how much are you looking to get from MTV for dropping their show in your blog?"...I told you, this guy definitely spends too much time out here...Annnnyway, after explaining that there are no financial incentives behind this blogger's motives (so far. make me an offer) and after getting through the standard pleasantries that former colleagues typically share, I soon learned that he was "Ranging" down to the shore (he drives a white range rover) with his brother sitting shotgun. His brother, who happens to also be a good friend, is a newly minted college grad. I told him to say hello for me and I asked him how he was doing...a question to which the reply came back without a moment's hesitation: "He's doing pretty good...tough out there but he's working real hard to make his own opportunities...things are going to come together soon for him...his guy scored on him a couple of times but he went to the rim solidly at least twice tonight". It was only halfway through that I realized he wasn't talking about his kid brother trying to land a job during double digit unemployment...No, much more importantly, it was a coach's/brother's interrpretation of his play only minutes earlier...(with the honesty that only an older brother could deliver). Even sadder, I quickly forgot, myself, all sense of reality and started to ask details of the game...pathetic? Definitely. But a welcomed interruption to a night of statistics and accounting homework.
OK, so before signing off, I leave with a quick story about the 1 out of 20 that keeps you coming back...earlier this week I received an invitation to summer pickup from our classmate in the MBA program, Tim Abromaitis...quick bio - he graduated in three years and is making use of NCAA eligibility by pursuing a graduate degree...oh, and he'll probably be with your favorite NBA team next season...(a little different than ballroom dancing classes while Mom hangs out on scholarship in SoCal...btw, the BushPush has now been officially eradicated from the books. Never happened. ND won.) ... getting back to the story - I said that I'd be happy to play as long as they weren't looking for anything more than just another body to make 10. Ok, Great - Monday afternoon at 5:30 it is. I end up meeting Mr. NBA at about that time. Takes me back through the lockerroom; pretty sweet digs - plasmas, video games and leather couches for the "lounge" (I mentioned we were fundraising for a new lockeroom rug back in C-ville). We suit up and hit the floor. It's a smattering of current players, buddies still on campus and some alums back from playing overseas looking to stay in shape. Ends up being a good run and I hold my own (not completely embarrassing the family name) until an opportunity in transition materializes...I receive the outlet off a miss at the right hashmark. Just me and the 6-10 guy who's got a pretty good start and is defending the very hoop that I have my eyes on...I can see him salivating in my peripheral vision...I'm lining up the layup and I know he's asking himself if I'm really going to attempt it...hell, I can feel everyone else in the gym thinking the same thing (Think Sandlot scene where first fly ball is hit to Smalls in left and everyone else watches with one eye closed)...I bravely go up for the attempt - take off from the left foot...ball in right hand...he leaves the floor fully anticipating the spike....Then, a quick shift from the right to the left and I sneak it in for two. The classic lefty layup from the right side of the court!!!!...if there's such a thing as a patented move for a washed up DIII whiteboy, mine is this. Every once in a while you can catch an unsuspecting poor soul...in this case - the victim was the 6-10 kid who plays in the Big East.... 0-5 from three? Slept like a baby that night.
1 in 20. I'll take it every time. So, when are we playing next?
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
The IPO
OK, so I must admit - never thought I'd ever be a "blogger"...always kinda thought of the "blogspot" as a place for computer geeks to leek images of the next iPhone or where rumors of political sex scandals started...a place where the likes of Mike McGarvey go to waste endless hours over lunch breaks or "film" sessions...(had to give my boy a shoutout in the maiden voyage)...needless to say, haven't spent much time over the years out here in the ol' blogoshere...until now that is. I've come to learn that there's some good that can come from it all and that it can serve many different purposes....hell, with a couple clicks of the mouse, they'll let anybody set one up for any old reason. So here goes - my attempt at publishing in the public domain...
Let me begin briefly with a purpose. After 4 years of undergraduate studies at the U (Ursinus College for you many followers accross the country) and another 4 years down the road at SEI Investments, I've now taken this show on the road out to South Bend in pursuit of an MBA from the Mendoza College of Business at the University of Notre Dame (in case it wasn't self-effident through my witty title...gotta love BusinessSchool). Mendoza, by the way, is the #1 ranked (undergraduate) business school in the country according to Bloomberg's BusinessWeek. And just walk through any one of the may halls here - there are constant reminders that us MBA'ers are total slackers (though if you leave out the whole undergraduate thing, it can sound pretty impressive)... but bragging about something I've had no part in building is not why this whole blog thing started. No, It started because I was in search of an outlet to write about the "Domer" experience and to document a short stint out here in the land of...well, what is this the land of, anyway? Underachieving and over-emphasized athletic programs??? Ok, you're right, a low blow from just a 2-week'er...In fact, the truth is that it doesn't take very long at all to realize just how special this place is and why it presents the opportunity of a lifetime. Looking forward to every moment...another 6-6 football season included.
So in case you didn't know, Indiana's state motto is "The Crossroads of America" (yea, there's a big sign that lets you know at the border) and I don't exactly know what they (the
state's founding fathers, of course) were going for when it was coined but to me, it just sounds like some place in the middle of nowhere where nothing cool (or state motto deserving) ever happens...and I can confirm that it's definitely not a place with any beaches...So what's a guy supposed to do out here in the middle of the summer? Well, after taking part in a kickball tournament this weekend (no, that's not a typo. We really did play kickball...and I'm pretty terrible at it. SEE PICTURE for evidence), I would be lying through the keyboard if I said there wasn't the slightest moment of reget. I miss you already my friend, the Jersey Shore...though, thanks to MTV, you now mean something very different to everyone I meet...(deep sigh)...it's a very sad reality that I have to introduce myself and my hometown with a disclosure that there's no affiliation with Mike "The Situation". F'in MTV producers - THANKS A LOT.
OK, first entry out of the way. Bottom line - this is a man-diary and I'll post if anything noteworthy happens. Be back soon enough....
Let me begin briefly with a purpose. After 4 years of undergraduate studies at the U (Ursinus College for you many followers accross the country) and another 4 years down the road at SEI Investments, I've now taken this show on the road out to South Bend in pursuit of an MBA from the Mendoza College of Business at the University of Notre Dame (in case it wasn't self-effident through my witty title...gotta love BusinessSchool). Mendoza, by the way, is the #1 ranked (undergraduate) business school in the country according to Bloomberg's BusinessWeek. And just walk through any one of the may halls here - there are constant reminders that us MBA'ers are total slackers (though if you leave out the whole undergraduate thing, it can sound pretty impressive)... but bragging about something I've had no part in building is not why this whole blog thing started. No, It started because I was in search of an outlet to write about the "Domer" experience and to document a short stint out here in the land of...well, what is this the land of, anyway? Underachieving and over-emphasized athletic programs??? Ok, you're right, a low blow from just a 2-week'er...In fact, the truth is that it doesn't take very long at all to realize just how special this place is and why it presents the opportunity of a lifetime. Looking forward to every moment...another 6-6 football season included.
So in case you didn't know, Indiana's state motto is "The Crossroads of America" (yea, there's a big sign that lets you know at the border) and I don't exactly know what they (the
state's founding fathers, of course) were going for when it was coined but to me, it just sounds like some place in the middle of nowhere where nothing cool (or state motto deserving) ever happens...and I can confirm that it's definitely not a place with any beaches...So what's a guy supposed to do out here in the middle of the summer? Well, after taking part in a kickball tournament this weekend (no, that's not a typo. We really did play kickball...and I'm pretty terrible at it. SEE PICTURE for evidence), I would be lying through the keyboard if I said there wasn't the slightest moment of reget. I miss you already my friend, the Jersey Shore...though, thanks to MTV, you now mean something very different to everyone I meet...(deep sigh)...it's a very sad reality that I have to introduce myself and my hometown with a disclosure that there's no affiliation with Mike "The Situation". F'in MTV producers - THANKS A LOT.OK, first entry out of the way. Bottom line - this is a man-diary and I'll post if anything noteworthy happens. Be back soon enough....
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