EDITOR’S NOTE: iPhone wins

2008 was a year like almost no other. Barack Obama was elected president, the financial markets collapsed, the Celtics returned to glory, Jon Lester threw a no-hitter, and it was the inaugural year for Truth About Mike.

Stay tuned for 2009. I’ve have two surprises planned for January that I am really excited about. January is my birthday month and it is going to be a month long celebration. Thanks again for checking in.

I’d like to wish everyone a happy, healthy, and safe New Year!

PHOTO CREDIT: Anne Haggerty

Thoughts running through my head while I was underwhelmed by Slumdog Millionaire….

It’s time.

I’ve decided to upgrade to a smartphone. I am pretty much down to two finalists: the Apple iPhone 3G and the Blackberry Storm. Both are touch-screen, web-browsing “internet communications devices” that hopefully will make my life easier. I have done a lot (!) of reading lately on these phones and have been asking everyone I know who owns them their opinions. Also, I’ve had hands-on time with both phones in a non-store setting because many of my cousins own iPhones and my cousin Leslie has a Storm. At this point, I’m probably more confused than ever.

The Apple iPhone (pictured above with E.T.) is the best selling mobile phone on the market. It has revolutionized what a cell phone is and is a glimpse at the future of what all cell phones will be. As my friend Mike (a new iPhone owner – Merry Christmas!) says, it has replaced his PC, laptop, mp3 player, digital camera and his Sirius radio. Through iTunes, iPhone owners have access to a myriad of applications that enhance the iPhone experience. It seems like everyone who owns an iPhone instantly becomes enamored with it and becomes very defensive and reverent when speaking about it.  I posted my conundrum as my Facebook status and almost instantaneously, the iPhone gestapo chimed in.  I’ve even heard that the iPhone “changes lives” (I’ve heard this twice, actually).

The Storm is Blackberry’s touch-screen smartphone offering. Compared to the iPhone, it has a better display, better camera (3.2 megapixel with flash as opposed to 2 megapixel with no flash for the iPhone), takes video, runs multiple applications at once and allows “cut and paste” for text. Unlike the iPhone, the Storm is not WiFi compatible. One downside to the Storm is that it is a first generation product. Many of the reviews I have read complain about the bugs that have plagued new Storm owners. I’m not really concerned with this because with any new device there are bound to be problems. Blackberry is known for not skimping on hardware, so I’m sure with updates the Storm will be just fine.

All things being equal, I’d choose the iPhone without hesitation. Who wouldn’t want a mobile device that “changes lives,” right? The rub lies in that the iPhone is only offered through AT&T and the Storm is only offered through Verizon. Currently, I am on Verizon and am very happy with it. My brother and mother are Verizon customers and we can talk on the phone at anytime without worrying about minutes. My last mobile carrier was AT&T and (for me) Verizon’s reception/service has been noticeably better in the Boston area than AT&T.

The irony that lies within all of this is that I hardly ever talk on the phone anymore. I don’t know when it happened, but I have become very averse to making phone calls. I actually wished I called people more and used to be a chatty Cathy. These days, I’d much rather communicate via text/email/IM/twitter/facebook than actually dialing the phone.

Interestingly enough (as Mike once mentioned), while people have become more and more connected (with the increase in popularity of Web 2.0), the interaction has become more and more impersonal. These days you can simply text someone to wish them a happy birthday or email (future blog alert – the worst form of communication ever) someone your thoughts rather than calling them or sending them a card. While the “new” forms of communication are cheaper and faster than ever, nuance and non-verbal expression have been lost and misunderstandings have increased.

I’ll keep you guys posted on which phone I ultimately decide on (I’m sure you’ll be waiting with baited breath). My mind has been changing (what seems like) on the hour.

Meanwhile, you can enjoy this picture I took during my cross-Commonwealth journey in the car yesterday. I couldn’t believe I saw one of these and had to snap a picture of it:

My playoff tickets came in the mail the other day. I recognized the envelope and I didn’t open it because I didn’t want to be a jinx. As you’ve probably heard, the Patriots will not be going to the playoffs.  Those playoff tickets are now bookmarks and the money spent for them will get credited to my account for next season.

The Pats were the first team in the history of the league to go 11-5 and not make the postseason. Quite frankly, I’d take eleven wins every year and if it isn’t good enough, so be it. The Pats did everything they could this month to make the playoffs. All you can ask as a sports fan is that your team gives its best effort no matter what happens. The 2008 New England Patriots did just that.

You may be wondering how/why I am taking this so well.  Let me try and explain.  Yesterday was a great day.  A bunch of my family members were over my brother’s place for the game.  It was great.  A post-holiday gathering of football, laughs, food and family.  At one point, I thought to myself: This is what the holidays should be all about.  Everything was going great until I had to leave the party just before the Jets game ended.  When you walk into a good friend’s mother’s wake, the fact that your team’s playoff chances were just pissed away by Brett Favre seems inconsequential.

Furthermore, consider the alternative: Imagine you are a Cowboys, Jets, Bears or even a Bengals/Lions fan today. Here is the facebook status message of my friend Luis:

Luis is done with that sham of a team known as the Cowboys.

Ouch. I don’t feel that way. I feel proud and hopeful tonight. I agree with my brother when he says this season may have been Bill Belichick’s best season as head coach of the team. They lost their quarterback/leader minutes into the season and everyone said they were done. Instead of easily (and quite understandably) mailing it in, they persevered and fought hard to come within a tiebreaker of winning the division.

Many season ticket holders I spoke to didn’t even send in their playoff money. I’m glad I did and I’m as proud today to be a Patriots fan as I’ve ever been. Sure there are games they should have won, but there are also games they should have lost as well. With sports (as with life), pondering “what if” is only a waste of your time and energy. I’d rather focus on the positive and look forward to the future.

Thanks for the bookmarks, the effort, and a fun season, Pats.

See you next summer.

I can’t wait.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Congrats to the Celtics for the 19-game winning streak.

Today is my brother John’s birthday and he is the biggest Patriots fan I know.  I mention this because John (as well as every other Patriots fan) has the fate of his team in this man’s hands.

You will probably never see this printed on Truth About Mike again:

Go Jets!

To make the playoffs, the Patriots not only have to beat Buffalo Sunday, but the Jets have to beat Miami as well.  If the Jets lose, the Pats can still get in with a win and a Jacksonville win over Baltimore, but the chances of that happening are very slim.

It’s really rare for a sports fan to have to root for his/her favorite team’s biggest rival.  This happened last summer as Red Sox fans had to root for the Evil Empire against Tampa.  Some fans can’t do it because they feel too dirty.  Patriots fans are now forced to because if the Jets don’t win Sunday, the Pats season will end.  For my brother’s sake (and for the sake of Pats fans everywhere), I hope the Jets pull it off.

So, Go Pats and (*wincing*) Go Jets!  Win it for John.

Happy birthday, brother.

“I bet the Teixeira announcement happens today.” – me on Twitter (8:40am yesterday).

Well, I was right about that but wrong about where he’d end up. The New York Yankees signed Mark Teixeira yesterday for $180 million. Apparently, the global economic recession is affecting everyone but the Yanks. The have spent approximately (and my math may be off here) $4,384,107,617,604,009,998 this off-season on free agent signings. The went on this shopping spree while asking their local and state government to help fund their brand new, cash cow of a stadium. Well if you got it, flaunt it right? What a country.

Here’s how I found the lump of coal otherwise known as Mark Teixeira in my 2008 Christmas stocking. At 3:27pm yesterday, I got a simple, two-word text from my friend Dan:

“F*ck me.”

After learning what the hell he was talking about, I went into a mini-Teixeira meltdown consisting of a plethora of emails, texts, Tweets and IMs including the phrases: “Hello 3^rd place,” “Well, at least there’s the Wild Card,” “Teixeira sucks” and more similarly nonsensical rants. As I wrote just a few days ago, Teixeira was all I wanted for Christmas. He is the best free-agent on the market and would have been a great addition for the Red Sox, as he will be a great addition for the Yankees.

I am disappointed about the Teixeira news. However, there are some good things about it. Let’s face it, the Yankees are much more fun to hate when they are the bully on the block. Last season, they hardly were the bully. I almost felt guilty celebrating “Yankee Elimination Day 2008” last September. I can assure you that I won’t feel guilty celebrating the 2009 edition (which I am still confident will happen). Furthermore, it will be much more fun watching the Yanks lose with all of their shiny new toys.

Here’s the problem for the Yankees now: If they don’t win the World Series next year, they will be looked at as a colossal, $300 million failure. If they do win the World Series, people will just say that they bought it. Spending all this money will put extreme pressure on a group of guys who have never played together before. Many of the chicken little Red Sox fans are crying in their Sam Adams today, saying John Henry got outmaneuvered.  I’m going to wait and see what actually happens on the field before I do that.

The Sox set a value on Mark Teixeira and couldn’t be convinced to spend more than they wanted to.  Furthermore, last I checked it was December 24th.  Teams have won the World Series without Mark Teixeira (hello 2004, hello 2007) and teams will continue win the World Series without Mark Teixeira.  The Yankees signing him guarantees nothing except a luxury tax bill from the MLB offices.  Let’s see what happens next fall before we ship the Commissioner’s Trophy to Gotham, shall we?

The more and more upset I got about Teixeira, the more absurd it seemed. I thought of my other friend Dan who lost his mother yesterday. I thought of my friends Rick and Kim who’s first child was born yesterday. I thought of how great it was to have my mom around for Christmas over the next two weeks. I thought of how sweet (and thoughtful) it was of a friend to drop a Christmas present off at my house while I was at work yesterday. In the grand scheme, where Mark Teixeira happens to collect his millions doesn’t really matter.

What does matter is the stuff in the paragraph above. I’m not going to spend the next few days worrying about the starting nine, but by cherishing the time I will be spending with my family. I’ll also be thinking of the many people that I am lucky enough to call friends. I hope you all do the same and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Happy Hanukkah! 18 in a row and I hope everyone has dug themselves out of the snow.

For me, it’s all about the journey rather than the destination. My favorite Patriots season ever is not 2001, 2003 or 2004, but 1993. Don’t get me wrong, the reason why we watch sports to see our teams win. There probably no better singular feeling for a sports fan than seeing his/her team be crowned champion of its sport. But as far as complete seasons go, 1993 is the one that stands out for me.

The 1993 season was the first time (in as long as I could remember) that the Pats were actually relevant. You actually believed they had a chance to win and for the first time in a long while, it felt like they were headed in the right direction. The Pats had just drafted a big-armed quarterback out of Washington State named Drew Bledsoe. It was also the first season for Bill Parcells as head coach and they ended up going 5-11 that year.

Strangely enough, I am getting a strong “I love this season like 1993” vibe. The Pats lost the league MVP in the opening game and everyone thought the season was over. The nightmare of “They’re done if Tom Brady goes down” became a cold, sobering reality. What made it worse is that Brady’s backup had just come off a pre-season that had many fans hoping he would be cut. A Steelers fan made a t-shirt celebrating Brady’s injury (pictured on right) and cheers went up all around the league. The dynasty was dead and Patriots fans everywhere were subject to comments like “Enjoy 7-9, suckers.”

Not so fast. Even though the Pats have been decimated by injuries, they sit atop the AFC East with a record of 10-5. If they and the Jets win next Sunday, the Pats will win their division for the eighth consecutive year. The backup everyone wanted gone has improved each week and has blossomed into a solid NFL quarterback. And while they’ve hit a few speed bumps on the road, they have never given up.

No matter what happens, this year will land right behind 1993 on the list of my favorite Patriots seasons. It has been one hell of a ride and you never know what will happen each week. The only constants have been that this team always shows up to play, never makes excuses, and gives it everything it has no matter who gets hurt.

It has been said that you are judged in life not by how you act when times are good, but in times of adversity. The Patriots were dealt the worst possible injury minutes into the season and enter their final game (of the regular season) with a chance to make the playoffs.

As a sports fan, you really cannot ask for much more than that.

PHOTO CREDIT: Boston.com

EDITOR’S NOTE: I had something planned for today, but I had too much interaction with Sam Adams at the B’s game (saw my first hat trick!).  The following story is from my friend Chuck and it is one of my favorites during the holiday season.

Thanks for letting me share it with everyone, Chuck!

I’m not a big fan of Christmas, and never have been. I’m not a religious person (Frisbetarian), and the holiday has always seemed so forced to me; everyone gets stressed, people drive like pendejos, and the whole buying crap for the sake of buying never made sense. Quick aside, would anyone ever set foot in a Brookstone if it weren’t for this holiday?

Anyway, when my son Will was born I tried to like Christmas, I really did. And it almost worked just because it was so great to see the look on his little face when I took him to see the lights, or did the whole shake the bells to emulate Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve, or watched the animated shows, or read the Christmas books (this was one part I truly did enjoy, especially reading The Polar Express before it too became over commercialized), or brought him to sit on Santa’s lap. Still, the holiday remained a source of aggravation for me, and by the time the poor kid was two or three I was so sick of Christmas being forced down my throat every year from Halloween on that one day when Will mentioned Santa I told him that Santa owed me money. I know it was wrong, but I kept it up that year and escalated things over the next few to a point where his shrink, and he’ll eventually need one after growing up with me as a father, will probably report me.

It didn’t take long before my standard response to hearing Santa brought up was, “That fat bastard owes me money.” Will would just shake his head and walk away, but my wife, Mary, would let me know how wrong it was that I would say this to a young child. I didn’t stop, however, and soon she became desensitized and would just shake her head and walk away, as well. As Will got older it became a staple for the holidays – hey, every family has to have traditions – and both son and wife effectively ignored me. I even came up with a story about how Santa’s debt came to be. We had a place on Kauai where I had a friend named Angel. Angel was a 300 plus pound baseball cap collecting Samoan. He’s a great guy, but when he drank, which was quite often in those days, he sometimes had a temper – a violent temper. Did I mention how big he was? In those days Angel would hang around at a local bar, the Koloa Broiler, and bet anyone (especially tourists unwise enough to venture into that establishment) that they could not move some number of matchsticks to make some shape in some number of moves. He never lost, and was effectively able to keep himself flush in Tequila stingers most nights without spending a dime. Will met Angel a few times when he was very young, and heard the stories about his matchstick games, and his propensity to start a barroom brawl over a baseball cap he really wanted that someone else had on their noggin.

The story I told my poor son was that I was drinking with Angel at the Broiler one night in June when the waves were sweet on the south shore and lo and behold, in walked a vacationing Santa. Santa was a pretty cool guy and he sat with us and had a drink or three when Angel took out the matchsticks. Santa, who was pretty buzzed by this point in the evening, was positive he could move one matchstick to make a square and bet Angel $20 that he could do it. He couldn’t, and he didn’t have $20. Angel was furious and wanted to kick his fat haole ass right there, but I intervened. I didn’t want to see Santa take a beating, so I loaned him the $20. That fat f*ck never paid me back, though, and so came the debt. The kid never believed the story, but I kept it up.

When Will got to be around the age when kids stop believing in Santa, a sad time even for me, I had a bright idea. Genius comes in many forms, and this seemed brilliant, twisted, but brilliant. He was going to school in Wakefield, Mass then, and every Christmas season that town parks a trailer at the head of Lake Quanapowitt where kids can visit Santa. I went in to talk to this Santa before picking Will up from school one day and told him I would donate a nice sum to his charity if he repeated a few lines I gave him and handed me an envelope I had with me when I came back to see him later that day with my son. He was confused, I didn’t tell him the whole story for fear of repercussions, but I made it worth his while and he agreed. When I picked Will up after school I told him we should go see the Santa at the lake, that I had heard this might be the real one. He dismissed me, saying he was too old to see some fake Santa, but I was driving so he had no choice and off we went. We waited in line for a while, and when we got to Santa he said, “Chuck, it’s so good to see you. Thanks for helping me out in Kauai. This is for you.” He then handed me the envelope I had provided an hour before. Will was flabbergasted – there’s a saying in Kauai, “Wop yo jaw” that really described the look on the kid’s face. He talked with the “real” Santa for a while, telling him what he wanted for Christmas, but all the while was looking at the envelope that fat bastard had given me. As soon as we got outside I let him open it. Inside was a twenty-dollar bill and a note that read, “Thanks for the help in the Broiler, Chuck. You really saved the day. Santa”

The poor kid didn’t know what to think. He now believed in Santa again, and would for years after other kids had abandoned the notion, but really couldn’t tell his pals why. How do you tell other kids that your dad saved Santa’s ass from a 300 pound drunken Samoan in a Hawaii barroom? I let this go on for a while, but a few years later I told him the truth. He took it well, I think.

But I’m not sure he wanted to really know the truth. It’s more fun to believe.

EDITOR’S NOTE: 16!

I’m excited. I’m going to my first Bruins game in 2-3 years tonight. The game will be extra special for me because of who the B’s are playing.

I first got to know Dan in 2001. I was working for a company in Canton and he was my contact at one of the manufacturers we represented. We hit it off instantly. I’d talk to Dan 5-10 times a day on the phone and it wasn’t the frequency of our calls that quickly drew us together. We shared a lot of common interests. He was Canadian (never held it against him), a big Steelers fan (never held this against him either) and he was a student of American history. As time passed, I’d find myself calling him even when I didn’t need to talk about work stuff.  We’d talk about everything from our hopes, dreams to anything else that would make 5 o’clock come sooner.

I have a lot of relatives in the Toronto area and am up there often to visit. On one of those visits, my ex-wife, cousin B-Rock and his wife Michelle made dinner plans with Dan and his wife Charlotte. I was finally going to meet Dan. I made a visit to his office earlier in the day and he was everything I had imagined and more. Dinner went off without a hitch and everyone had a fun time. Dan told a really funny story about one of the local newspapers (I think it was the Toronto Star). He told a telemarketer that he wouldn’t even “line the bottom of his bird cage” with their newspaper. It was vintage Dan: Funny, direct, and the essence of him all in one short story.

Dan had beaten cancer once before we met. Sometime in late 2001 or early 2002, it came back. He told me about it before he told any of his co-workers.  After that, he’d give me constant updates on how he was doing up until it got so bad that he couldn’t go to work anymore. We stayed in touch via email and letters, but his condition deteriorated so badly that my ex-wife and I decided to take a trip up to see him.  Our first stop right off the road was the hospital.  Even though he was very weak and didn’t say much, Dan recognized me.  I met his parents for the first time that day and seeing his smile made the nine-hour drive completely worth it.

A week later I got an email from Dan’s brother telling me he had passed. It was Memorial Day 2002 – quite fitting for someone who loved American history so much.  Charlotte told me that he waited for us to come and visit one last time so he could say goodbye.

We got back in the car that next weekend to attend Dan’s wake and funeral. Charlotte was amazed that we made the long trek on back-to-back weekends. It was the least I could do for a guy who meant so much to me. I’ve never met anyone like him and have never bonded with anyone quicker than I bonded with Dan Lane. Even though I only knew him for a short period of time, when I talked to him it felt like I had known him forever.

One of Dan’s true passions was following the Toronto Maple Leafs. Coincidentally, this is the same team the Bruins are playing tonight. I’d be lying if I said I won’t have mixed emotions while watching the game. Because of Dan, I’ve adopted the Leafs as my second favorite hockey team.  Like Red Sox fans before 2004, I am anxiously awaiting the day the Leafs hoist their first Stanley Cup since 1967. It will mean so much to Dan and Leafs fans everywhere.

I miss you Dan and think of you often.

December 17th.  I really need to start Christmas shopping.

It doesn’t really feel like Christmas time.  It seems like every year I say this later and later into the season.  If things continue at this pace, five or so years down the line I’ll wake up on New Year’s Day and realize that I missed Christmas entirely.  Maybe it is the lack of snow.  Maybe I’ll wake up this morning and have to shovel out my car and think, “OK, NOW it feels like Christmas time.”

People have been asking me, “So, what do you want for Christmas this year?”  My current go-to-answer is a shrug and a laugh.  I mean, I’m 35 years old.  Am I really supposed to be “wanting” things for Christmas at this point?  Well, if so, last night I finally figured it out.

For Christmas 2008, I’m going to make it simple.  I want one thing and one thing only:

I want the Red Sox to sign Mark Teixeira.

IMHO, Teixeira is the best free agent available this season.  He’s a switch-hitting first baseman that can rake and he plays gold glove caliber defense as well.  Taking a quick glance at his statistics, you can easily see why the Red Sox would be enamored with Teixeira.

.370 .379 .371 .400 .410

The numbers above represent his OBP (on-base percentage) over the past five years.  If you know anything about Theo Epstein (and the folks who make up the baseball operations staff for the Red Sox), you know OBP is something that they highly value.  Forget batting average folks, OBP is the “sneaky hot” of all the current baseball statistical measures.

With the Yankees off on their annual “drunken sailor” shopping spree, it is crucial for the Red Sox to upgrade their lineup.  The Yankees spend money faster than Muntathar al Zaidi throws shoes at U.S. presidents.  They are single-handedly trying to spend enough money to pull the world out of the global recession.

The Red Sox can afford to drop the “straight cash, homey” on this guy.  He’s really the only free agent out there that seems worth the return on investment.  One may argue that with Mike Lowell returning, the Sox really don’t have a spot for Teixeira.  However for a guy with his talents, you make room (sorry Mike, thanks for the memories).

If nothing else, the Red Sox pursuit of Teixeira has taught Red Sox fans how to spell (and pronounce) his name.  Just a few months ago, T-E-I-X-E-I-R-A was spelled every which way but the right way.

So Santa if you’re a Truth About Mike reader, please deliver Mark Teixeira to Titletown.

I’ve been really good this year.

One of life’s hidden pleasures is to find someone who is sneaky hot.

Per the Urban Dictionary, “Sneaky Hot” is someone who is:

Hot, but not totally smoking hot. Girls who are sneaky hot are not usually in the conversation of being among the hottest of their group, but when mentioned or seen you remember that they are rather attractive. They are generally better looking in person than on TV or in pictures.

My definition is similar, but a little different. I think sneaky hot is someone who at first glance, doesn’t seem that hot, but with time ends up becoming more “hot” in your eyes. I first heard the term from a Bill Simmons column.  Last year, he developed his own “Sneaky Hot Hall of Fame” consisting of Lauren Graham, Laura Linney, Anne Hathaway, Diane Sawyer (huh?), Jamie-Lynn Sigler, Lori Loughlin and Tina Fey.

When I was thinking about writing this entry, three (ok four) names came to mind. Honorable mention goes to Mary Lynn Rajskub (Chloe on “24”). The next name (and the only one on Simmons’ list) was Tina Fey. I think it wasn’t until Mean Girls when I started to think Fey was pretty hot. In Mean Girls, Fey met the “not the hottest in the group” requirement that the Urban Dictionary mentioned.  Also, Fey picked up steam on the sneaky hot train with her work on “30 Rock” and her Sarah Palin impressions.

Next on my list was the woman pictured at the top of this entry, Jenna Fischer. It was long after I started watching “The Office” when I began to look at Fischer differently. At first, I found her as good-looking, but nothing that would stop traffic. As I watched more and more episodes, Fisher just snuck up on me and now, in my book, she’s a certified hottie.

However, the BEST example of sneaky hot in my-not-so-humble opinion is Linda Cardellini. I’m not talking about her on “ER,” but the “Freaks and Geeks” Linda Cardellini pictured here.

And as an aside, if you haven’t seen “Freaks and Geeks,” do check it out. It is #1 on my list of shows that were cancelled wayyyyy too early. To me, Cardellini as Lindsay Weir is the ultimate example of sneaky hot.

So, keep your eyes out there guys (and gals), you never know when sneaky hot is going to sneak up on you.