Even though it’s been an intriguing week at the Crunk Factory (which is saying something for July), I confess to listening to the annual PAC-10 Media Day’s feed. News is hardly made there, given that each school has his coach parse words carefully and strategically select one player to answer a few questions. Not to be outdone, Fox Sports decided to accept “tweets” as a format for people who are not members of the media to ask questions. I can’t say I was particularly riven by any of these.

However, as you may know, the Conference recently hired a new Commissioner to succeed the newly-retired Tom Hansen. (He held this post for a quarter century, and helped to um, make the PAC 10 look slow to change…) The new Commissioner, Larry Scott is a veteran of the Women’s Tennis Association and not um….well anyway…. Scott was hired in large part because he’s negotiated lucrative TV deals and exposure to help make the WTA more profitable.

The Commish had the honor of announcing the Conference’s new bowl pairings, which include the Rose, Holiday, Sun, Las Vegas, Emerald and Poinsettia Bowls. And when asked why a conference like the PAC-10 which was 5-0 in bowl games this winter “traded down”, Scott proclaimed it is because the PAC-10 teams have a huge natural advantage playing on the West Coast.

I’m still wondering why we keep giving up the Hawai’i Bowl. Sure it’s true that the state of Florida isn’t excited about having people from the relatively warm and dry West having to buy tickets to bowl games in Orlando or Jacksonville. Those are much easier sells for those poor souls who live where January leaves a foot of snow on the ground…

But if you don’t play in any rock star bowl games…it’s hard to see how the conference gets more exposure. It’s hard to see also how the conference shakes the reputation it doesn’t travel well. And it’s hard to see how the conference ever gets treated with the same respect as the ACC, Big Ten, Big 12 or the big, bad SEC.

And doesn’t he realize the PAC 10 is 5-4 all time in Las Vegas Bowl? I mean, Duane sure does….

 

Of all the possible revelations one could have on a three-week vacation that included my 29th birthday, none proved so harrowing as to learn that my life and my memorabilia has been reduced to five boxes.

All the memories that childhood and adolescence wrought have now been edited to a mere snapshot. A glimpse as to what was.

But allow me to elaborate. Even if you know me well, you might be confused at this point.

Two years ago, I left Southern California to take a position at the Crunk Factory in Alta Sonora. I had been out of work for close to nine months and owing money left (student loans) and right (car payments), So when the offer came, I simply put what I could in my car and drove away figuring that I would have to come back later for the rest of it.

I left a roomful of stuff with my maternal grandmother who owned a house passed through the generations since it was built. But as luck would have it, she was ill at the time and in the hospital for treatment. Shortly after relocation, she died and my sister inherited the property. She wasn’t eager to sell (and neither was I) so for a while at least I thought my stuff was safe.

She decided to have a family friend (and ne’er do well) clean up the house to prepare for rental. My sister assured me that the family friend put any valuable heirlooms and items in the garage. Of course, the garage had a leaky roof that I knew about so my sister used a home equity loan to repair the roof and install central air conditioning. (The garage is not connected to the house, but is large.)

And that was that I thought…until I learned from my sisters a few months ago that the family friend was getting evicted for failure to pay rent…for five months. Naturally I was not happy because I suspected that this person would take advantage of my sister from the get go…I even warned my other sister as much at my grandmother’s funeral. But alas, it was to no avail.

At some point in the process, my sister learned that several repairs she had paid her tenant to arrange never occurred. (We suspect that she pocketed the money.) And then as my siblings realized that not only was the roof leaking, but that most of what was in the garage was destroyed. As a result, I didn’t have enough time to make it out to sift through it and my sister decided to salvage what she could and put the rest in storage. (This allowed them to re-rent the property.)

But while I imagined the storage area to be this vast space the size of the garage, I have since learned it is probably the size of my closet. When asked how much of it was mine, my sister replied maybe five boxes. Supposedly included in the haul was my college diploma. As for my books, high school medals, and awards and the stuff your parents usually keep (if they are alive that is), I have no idea what made it and what didn’t. Some of the stuff I kept out of principle, like textbooks and don’t mourn the loss. But other stuff, like my Academic Decathlon medals will be solely missed if they are gone.

I don’t tell you this to story to wallow in pity. No, it’s because my sisters, faced with this situation went back to their Irish roots. Don’t get mad, get even. And so tomorrow, they are scheduled to arrive in small claims court and ask for damages. Given what I lost, there’s no need for me to be reimbursed. What’s gone can’t be replaced, and disappears into the vortex that has claimed much of my past. Memories, but not much more.

But what’s that you say, at least I have my diploma to finally put in my office. Well…ironically enough that diploma is actually a reprint. The original had my surname misspelled. For that reason, it actually does not look like my classmates’ ones issued in 2002, but those issued two years later. (Most notably it has Arnold Schwarzenegger’s signature instead of Gray Davis.) Had it been destroyed though,  requiring me to get yet another one, take heart…

The reissuance fee is only $75.

I can remember each of the four times my low fuel light has gone on in the six years I have owned my car. Call me paranoid, but I place a high priority on a full tank. (Actually it has more to do with the fact that I am conditioned to fill up on the weekends regardless of how big the tank is so that if something comes up during the week, I don't have to sweat finding a station somewhere I don't know.)

The first time it came on, it was because I happened to be working around the corner from Costco, and it was cheaper to fill up there than where I worked. The second time it was on a hill in Century City, careening down Olympic Boulevard. (Basically, the light came on by accident with the gas being displaced by centripetal force.) The third time, I actually was broke and heading to Weinerschitznel in Santa Monica when I panicked and headed for a gas station because I didin't know if I had enough to get home.

This weekend, however, it was self-inflicted. We were called into the Crunk Factory and I was to meet Rita at a party. The extra trip to work meant that I had a little less than usual and I needed to drop something off at her place. So I ended up driving the long way around for a total of 30 miles. On the way back, with maybe ten minutes to go...I saw the light go on. I wasn't sure if I would make it, but Rita wanted to follow me home because she was tired...so I risked it.

The irony is, the next day I scurried to the closest gas station around...which by far was not the cheapest. ($2.83) By the time I got there however, there was a new funny development...the light had turned off. This is probably because the heat had caused the gas to expand and fool the meter once again. I filled up and it was 10 gallons. Minor detail, since the car's manual says the tank holds a whopping 13 gallons. (If this is true, given the fuel economy it gets...that's potentially 100 miles with your light on....)

So while I didn't find myself on the road dead...when I got home...the US Soccer team did. In a matter of minutes my Facebook feed went from total support and undying admiration to not a peep at all. That's because after leading 2-0 in the Final of the Confederations Cup (a meaningless tournament invented by the Saudis) Brazil clawed back in the second half to win 3-2 (and that's after the US luckily had one Brazilian goal called off by accident...) I for one liked what I saw...an American soccer team that looked solid and even inspiring. The difference was that the Sambas (yes I know) showed everyone how you respond to that adversity. It might seem hard to believe but it was probably one of the greatest comebacks of all time. So, for the US this sounds bad and deflating...but remember this championship doesn't really mean anything. And now, instead of being content and fat for the rest of the World Cup schedule, the Americans have something to prove. Still, with the World Cup a  year away, anything can happen.

Personally however, this is the moment I think when US Soccer becomes worthwhile to me to be associated as a fan. This game showed that while the US lacks Brazil's depth...we finally have players that are of an international caliber. And besides, if we had won and joined the rest of the world by dominating in soccer we would be required to adopt universal health care...(just kidding).

The irony could not be greater though, for this week is also time to recharge my batteries. Tomorrow I head out on vacation for a while, and I will be posting less than normal. But I'll be back and hopefully running less often on empty myself.