I had to curb my sports viewing over the past couple of days as our family welcomed its newest furry member, a puppy named Maya. It's my first puppy and as much as people warn you of the work that goes into training a dog, it is still overwhelming. Less sleep, less down time, always having to be alert as to what she's up to - it's very draining and doesn't allow for much sports viewing (but don't get me wrong - oh so worth it!).
Thankfully the early days of dog-rearing are out of the way and a semblance of my pre-Maya days can return. I'm happy to note that it doesn't appear that I've missed much over the past few days. March Madness began last night and I couldn't care less. The World Baseball Classic is falling flat to my great dismay. Sens are out of the playoff race. All in all, there's a lot of looking ahead going on, and not much living in the now.
One event beeping frantically on my radar is the 12 Hours of Sebring endurance race this coming Saturday. I became a fan of this automotive racing series, the American LeMans Series, three years ago when I watched Sebring for the first time. It turned out to be the most amazing race I've ever watched. Twelve hours of racing came down to a final lap showdown between a Porsche and Ferrari. Check it out below:
What I love about the ALMS is that there are 4 classes of cars on the track at once: two prototype classes and two GT classes, so there's a lot of traffic all the time. You really get to see top class drivers (there are former F1 and IndyCar drivers) having to negotiate a track that always has surprises up its sleeve. Not only that, but here's a world-class racing event that actually comes to Canada (fuck you Bernie!), gracing us with their presence at Mosport in August.
I won't bog you down with details, but if you like car racing check it out this Saturday from 10am on Speed (to watch the race from the point where there are no interruptions for NASCAR qualifying, tune in from 2pm to 10pm). I'll post my views on this year's edition of Sebring on Monday, and will continue to comment on it throughout the season. Of particular interest is the return of BMW to the series, and Audi returning but without a factory car.
One last note about Sebring: I'll be watching the race with my father-in-law, a die-hard NASCAR fan. This should be an interesting experiment. I hope it rains in Florida on Saturday so he can see what real drivers do when it starts raining (Mouah hahaha!). I kid, I kid. Wish me luck!
The Dutch have done it again. In an 11-inning thriller the Dutch National Baseball team upset the mighty Dominican Republic at the World Baseball Classic.
Despite Colorado Rockies pitcher Jubaldo Jimenez striking out 10 Dutch hitters in 4 innings (WOW!), the Nederlanders were also able to keep anyone from scoring until the top of of the 11th when Jose Reyes scored on an outfield error.
The game appeared to be lost for the plucky Dutchmen, but they managed to tie the game and score the game-winner, also on an fielding error.
So far this has been a tournament of upsets; the Dutch beating the DR twice, Australia thumping Mexico, Korea sinking Japan and Canada losing to Italy. Can the Cinderella stories continue?
I generally don't touch on hockey too much around these parts because the last thing we need is another hockey blog from a half-wit Canadian. I watch hockey and follow the Senators rather closely, but I am by no means an expert.
Having said that, I think most who are outside the Montreal media's direct range will probably agree with me that Guy Carbonneau had no business getting fired. Sure they've struggled a bit over the past couple months, but they're still in great shape to make the playoffs and actually make a run for the cup because they are well coached.
Guy has a 124-83 coaching record (I've taken overtime losses out of the equation because most coaches will gladly take a point out of most games). Show me a team that would thumb its nose at that record and I'll eat Taco Bell for a week. Oh wait, that record is not good enough for bloated Montreal media-types that sell papers and advertising revenue based on a culture that skewers coaches and management in an unending blood sport.
Television program likes "110%" and newspapers like "Le Journal de Montréal" would be out of business if they weren't second-guessing Canadiens management every single day in the paper. I swear that if the Canadiens beat the Red Wings 4-2 in a Stanley Cup Final series, these buffoons would ask for the coach's head on platter because the series was not wrapped up in five games. Such a result would be an affront to "Les Glorieux", the mythical pre-cursor to the modern-day Canadiens reality, where the Montreal Canadiens had a monopoly on players originating from Quebec. Hint: it hasn't been that way since the '70's and will never return. Today I guarantee you these parasites are cooking up the newest excuses to get rid of the replacement coach, Canadiens GM Bob Gainey. It's a never-ending cycle in that city.
I don't feel too bad for Carbonneau, though. If he chooses he'll simply become the latest former Montreal Canadiens head coach to have success elsewhere, in the line of Scotty Bowman, Jacques Lemaire, Alain Vigneault and Claude Julien.
People asked me why I switched allegiances from the Habs to the Sens in the mid-90's. Although there were plenty of factors, one of them was the unhealthy relationship that exists between the team, their fans and especially the media. Sure we have our issues in Ottawa with some media (*cough* Bruce Garrioch *cough*), but nothing even comes close to the toxic Montreal environment.
Note: I love the city of Montreal and its people, and Les Habitants still occupy a place in my heart, but I call it like I see it.
Someone will have to explain to me someday why I have a knack for picking losers in sporting events. I don't mean the throwaway selections one makes when your team is eliminated, like how I supported the Steelers in this year's Super Bowl, but rather those teams in which I invest emotionally. In my lifetime, I've been on the winning side of 5 Champions: 1986 Canadiens, 1992 and 1993 Blue Jays, 1993 Canadiens and France in the 1998 World Cup. The total goes up a bit if you include Donovan Bailey and also the 2002 Salt Lake City Men's hockey team (but really, cheering for Canada at a hockey tournament is a little redundant).
Granted, cheering for your country is not really an option (although let me assure you that my colleagues of Italian-descent don't make any bones about turning their back on the country in which they were born and raised in favour of the romanticized country they hear tales about from their grandparents). When Canada enters a tournament like the World Baseball Classic or World Cup Qualifying, I certainly have no other option of who to cheer for. It is ingrained in my DNA. The problem is the sports I care most about happen to be one we didn't invent. I think it's great that Canada dominates in hockey and curling in international tournaments but like I alluded to earlier, it doesn't give me any deep satisfaction.
Canada did it again to me last night. They did it to me 3 years ago as well when they barely beat South Africa and got thumped by Mexico, so much so that the "runs against" rule is what bounced them from the tourney (they were tied with the USA and Mexico with a 2-1 round robin record). This one stings a little more. Having played an excellent game against the USA before falling to them 6-5, everyone was feeling good about our chances to face Venezuela tonight. Problem was that too many people looked beyond Italy, including manager Ernie Whitt who chose to go with an unknown and untested starter instead of the "ace" of the staff Scott Richmond.
The logic was solid, and really I can't argue with it except in hindsight. Our hitting would power us over the Italians even if the pitching allowed a few runs here and there. Honestly, I would have made the same call, preserving Richmond against a powerhouse Venezuela team. And so on this night Canada was pinning its hopes on Vince Perkins, some dude who's bounced around the minors since 2000 and has never gotten beyond "AA" (that being double "A" baseball, not Alcoholics Anonymous, although last night's outing might lead him to the drink). He was full of gusto in pre-game interviews, boasting about how his arm hadn't felt this good since he was 18, and how he hoped to raise some major league eyebrows with his performance.
Well, he never got off the ground and the only facial expressions he inspired likely won't win him a promotion. He got the first batter he faced to hit a squibbler to the foot of the mound, but he bungled the ball and never got a throw off to first. Was that shaking hands I saw from Perkins as he fielded that ball? It might have been, and it jives with the rest of his outing, in which he couldn't find the strike zone and allowed 3 hits and 4 walks in 2+ innings. When he was mercifully pulled in the top of the third, Canada was down 3-0.
Not to take away anything from a plucky Italian team that played out of their minds. They were just as spectacular on defence as when they played Venezuela Saturday only this time they pushed runs across the plate, something Canada could not do, leaving 10 runners on base throughout the game. Time and again Votto, Morneau and Bay would be left on base by hitters who couldn't come close to making meaningful contact.
In the end, Canada's pitching was not sufficient to make any kind of dent in this tournament. They were let down by Ryan Dempster, Erik Bedard and Rich Harden, arguably Canada's best pitchers, who chose to decline an invitation to join the team for no good reason. They were also done in by a hitting lineup that was appallingly weak once you got past 2 through 6. Pete Orr, I'm looking right at you (not to mention Matt Stairs' golf swing).
And here I am left to dissect yet another stumble by a Canadian national team, much like I do whenever Canada's soccer team loses to the likes of Guatemala, Honduras and Nicaragua. As always, we killed them on paper. Perhaps it's time for our teams to enter the digital age.
Our stomachs rumbling, leaving the stadium in search of sustenance was our first order of business following the game. Clearing out 42,000 fans is no quick endeavor however, and it took a good 15 minutes from the time we left our seats to making it outside, where a light rain was complicating the exodus. We had a couple of yahoos behind us yelling for people to move faster, which grated on our nerves. The Waffle should have arranged for a police escort for us, but in this he fell way short of expectations (during the game Daddio suggested he grab the cute cop's hat and run around the field with it, but not enough drinks had been consumed - we might have gotten out of the stadium faster had he listened to that advice!).
We knew and accepted that getting a table at a restaurant close to Rogers Centre might be difficult; there were 42,000 of us from baseball and the Leafs were playing next door on Hockey Night in Canada. That's a lot of people looking for food. We had 3 hours to spare until the Italy v. Venezuela game, so we weren't too worried. Nothing prepared us for the level incompetence we were about to encounter, mind you.
We poked our noses into a couple prospective restaurants but were met with massive lineups, so we decided to move along each time. Finally we spotted Philthy McNasty's and the lineup didn't look to bad. Upon inquiring at the door, we were told that a 10 minute wait for a table was expected. This seemed reasonable to us and, in fact, were seated within five. Awesome. Perusing the menu, discussing our drink choices, turning on the television at our table, this distracted us for a bit. No waitress came during this time. Upon further observation, we saw that there were about 3 waitresses working for about 200 patrons. We also saw that people at other tables looked pretty pissed off repeatedly trying to attract their server's attention, only to be being waved off every time. It's about at this point that Moonturk said: "If the decision is to leave here and go elsewhere, I'll support it 100%". I checked my watch and we still had 2 1/2 hours left to game time. "Other than being hungry, we're in no rush and besides, we'll have to wait elsewhere anyway". We all agreed to wait it out.
Another 10 minutes went by before I caught the hostess and asked her over. "Nobody's been to see you yet, huh? Well, I'll try and see if someone can serve you." Ahem..."Try?" Yikes. We then noticed people going to the bar to get their own drinks and pitchers, because the waitresses were too overwhelmed. After another 10 minutes (by this time we had spent at least half an hour in the place), the hostess was able to grab the "manager" to come serve us. A stern, "no-bullshit" look was accompanied with "What do you guys want?", pencil to paper. The Waffle, in an attempt to change the tone, attempted a friendly "Busy night, huh?". No eye contact in the response "It's getting there. Listen, you guys should know that it'll be an hour for food." Thanks, but we were out of there. Farewell to "Philthy McNasty's: Our name describes our commitment to service".
Here's a question for the manager of the establishment: How is it that a restaurant, located in the tourist district of Toronto, within shouting distance of both the Rogers Centre and Air Canada Centre, on a night with two baseball and one hockey games is not prepared for a crowd? You would think that a place like that, on a night like this, would staff itself properly. But hey, I'm no MBA.
We ended up eating at Dunn's next door, who provided us with excellent food (Daddio said it was the best steak sandwich he'd ever eaten and my smoked meat sandwich was just a notch below Nate's Deli), excellent service and a much better atmosphere. They got us out of there in time to make the second game with time to spare. A tip of the hat to a fine establishment.
As soon as we entered the concourse to the stadium, we heard it: fans singing in unison. Oh yeah. Venezuela in the house and bringing a soccer atmosphere. Too bad there were only a few thousand of them, but it was a testament to how a few well-organized and dedicated fans can make a stadium sound full. Many jokes were being made pre-game about Italy's baseball prowess. Perusing the starting lineup did nothing to stem the flow of these jokes, since only Nick Punto, Frank Catalonotto, Mark Defelice and Jason Grilli had any kind of pedigree.
Turns out the Italians had a little sumthin' sumthin' in the tank after all. Our first wow moment came in the bottom of the first when Bobby Abreu lined a ball to the right/centre gap. What looked to be a sure hit was snagged by an incredible diving catch by "Super" Mario Chiarini. It would appear diving is an Italian specialty (sorry DeRosa, I couldn't resist:
All kidding aside, the Italians were fairly impressive against a team loaded with MLB superstars, spreading a good bunch of hard hit balls into green spaces. They got to the 5th inning still scoreless until Italy made a strange decision in changing pitchers (the starter, Mark DeFelice was nowhere near the tournament-imposed 70 pitch limit). The skipper went to Jason Grilli who promptly gave up 3 runs while recording only one out, to the endless enjoyment of the Detroit Tigers fan behind us who was thrilled that the pitcher who was formerly on his team was now ruining another ball club).
The Venezuelans ran away for the rest of the game, eventually winning 7-0 in what turned out to be something of a boring game. I guess we started losing interest when the blowout began to materialize, but keep in mind we were somewhere near our 6th hour of baseball for the day. A few more drinks and a few more wings at a pub across from our hotel sealed the night, and we retired to our beds. At least that's the story we're sticking with.
The trip back was mainly uneventful save for the texting maniac on the 401 who almost ran herself into a barrier before realizing that driving might be a better option as her first priority. We also fooled Daddio's better half into believing we had taken a detour through Watertown, N.Y., when in fact he was only 15 minutes away from arriving home. She was very diplomatic, but I suspect it's only because she knew we were all listening to her through the OnStar system in Daddio's van. Still waiting to find out how that story concluded when he got home.
It was a very fun trip spent with close friends, with a good mix of baseball and decent food thrown into the pot. Can't wait for our next road trip.
Not many things in life beat getting into a van with three close friends and hitting the road, the destination being a packed sports stadium. This is what The Waffle, Daddio, Moonturk and I set out to do on Saturday starting at 5:45. The World Baseball Classic at Rogers Centre beckoned. We answered the call.
Canada v. USA was tops on the agenda, with the added bonus of Italy v. Venezuela later. We weren't sure how well Canada would fare against the mighty American imperial superpower, but I'd say our hopes were cautiously optimistic. After all, we did beat them in the 2006 WBC.
After a four-hour commute that included Laura's cupcakes and Tim Horton's coffee, we checked into our hotel and sat down to lunch at Hoops on Yonge Street. We were waited on by the lovely Geneviève from Répentigny, who was thrilled to be serving "son peuple" in downtown Anglo-Saxonia. As we ate some decent pub fare, we watched The Netherlands take an early 3-0 lead against the Dominican Republic. That score couldn't possibly stand up over nine innings, right?
We cabbed it to the stadium in time to catch the Canadians taking batting practice. For all the hype about Canada's hitting prowess, we didn't see many BP homeruns. We then settled into our seats, which were four rows up in section 113. A bunch of USA players warmed up in front of the section, allowing us to hone our heckling skills. We got off a few good ones that elicited reactions from the players. To Adam Dunn, who was warming up with Ryan Braun and Jimmy Rollins: "Hey Adam, J.P. was right about you!". His fellow players immediately laughed and started poking fun at him. Here's why I said that:
"Let me ask you something. What do you know about Adam Dunn?" Blue Jays GM J.P. Ricciardi said to the caller. "He's a lifetime .230, .240 hitter that strikes out a ton and hits home runs.
"Do you know that the guy really doesn't like baseball all that much?" Ricciardi continued. "Do you know the guy doesn't have a passion to play the game that much? How much do you know about the player? There's a reason why you're attracted to some players and there's a reason why you're not attracted to some players. I don't think you'd be very happy if we brought Adam Dunn here. ...
"We've done our homework on guys like Adam Dunn and there's a reason why we don't want Adam Dunn. I don't want to get into specifics."
Then, as Derek Jeter was close enough to reach out and touch him, The Waffle chimed in with: "Hey Jeter, you miss A-Roid yet?". That brought a grin to the Yankees shortstop. Yes, heckling is childish and impolite - but as long as it doesn't cross the bounds of good taste it can be funny, too.
In fact, Dunn was a good sport. He played right field for USA and the entire section behind him were chanting heckles at him throughout game. A few times he turned around and feigned a yawn. Good stuff. He got the last laugh, as well, as he had the game-winning RBI off a two-run homerun.
Speaking of which - there was a game! And what a game it was, kids. Canada took an early lead by roughing up a shaky Jake Peavy. The teams then traded runs and the Americans took a 6-3 lead. Canada showed a lot of grit to come back and make it an exciting finale. Trailing 6-4, Joey Votto, the best Canadian on the day, hit a double in the top of the ninth with 1 out that brought in a run. With Justin Morneau and Jason Bay coming up, things were looking good. With 42,000 of my closest friends standing and cheering as if in Game 7 of the World Series, J.J. Putz overcame the Canadian momentum to get the last 2 outs he needed for the save. Can't complain, though. We saw a great game and had a great time.
One of the highlights for me was seeing top Mariners prospect and Gatineau native Phillipe Aumont pitch the sixth inning. He gotten himself in trouble early, loading the bases with nobody out. At that point catcher Russell Martin and pitching coach Denis Boucher had a little chat with the youngster. Whatever they said worked wonders, as he retired the next three hitters, two of them via the strikeout. In fact, that was an ongoing theme for Canadian pitching staff. They would often get themselves in trouble, only to strike out the final out. It made for great theatre.
We exited the stadium and chased after dinner. More to come in Part Two...
The North American leg of the World Baseball Classic kicks off tomorrow and I'll be there, first base side, 4 rows in. The first match features Canada v. USA at 2pm (Sportsnet), followed by Venezuela v. Italy.
Canada sends Mike Johnson to the mound, a pitcher who left his Korean League team to play for Canada (how do you feel now, Rich Harden, Ryan Dempster, Eric Gagné et al.?). Can't say I know much about him. As far as I can tell, he was once a product of the Los Angeles Dodgers of Los Angeles. In 2001. Never played in The Show. I wonder how well he'll fare against Derek Jeters, Dustin Pedroias and David Wrights of the world? Maybe I'll close my eyes when Canada is not hitting.
Jake Peavy gets the nod for the Americans.
Venezuela is expected to start Felix "THE KING" Hernandez against Italy, who doesn't have any recognizable names except Frank "The Cat" Catalonotto and Nick "Punta" Punto. This will likely be a blowout, but we'll get to see many MLB stars from Venezuela like Magglio Ordonez, Bobby Abreu and Carlos Guillen.
No matter what I'm just excited to see competitive baseball again, with an international flavour to boot.
I'm making the trek from Ottawa with three close friends, one of which is the author of The Waffle (any Toronto restaurants you feel should be covered by this sublime food critic? Let us know in the comments section!).
The first smile to cross my face this morning happened when I thought of myself sitting at Skydome tomorrow, watching the World Baseball Classic. The second smile appeared when the shuffle on my iPod offered me Hawksley Workman's Piano Blink. The rest of the commute was spent with a frown as I replayed the second half of the Impact-Santos Laguna match from last night in my head.
As I wrote yesterday, all the Impact had to do to progress to the semi-final round of the CONCACAF Champions League was not lose by 3 or more. This turned out to be a bridge too far for John Limniadis' valiant squad.
The Mexican champions got off to a quick start, netting a goal within 15 minutes. I lost a bit of hope at this point as it seemed that Santos were far superior to the Impact, a much different team than the one we saw at Olympic Stadium. My St. Thomas moment was fleeting, however, as the Impact quickly put together two goals and carried that lead into the half. As that second goal went in, I lifted my arms in victory but also in shock. It would not be the last shocking moment of the evening.
For those not familiar with the aggregate system in soccer, this basically meant that because of Montréal's 2-0 win back home last week, Santos had to score 4 goals in the second half to win the quarterfinal. Here's what I wrote on my Facebook page: "Ottawa Sports Guy is watching in disbelief as it seems the Impact are on their way!". What happened next will go down as one of the worst collapses in sports that I've ever witnessed.
When you're essentially up by four goals in soccer, it is perfectly natural to assume a defensive posture and let the action come to you, breaking up any attempt to score. Eleven men committed to this last night. Eleven others committed themselves to the opposite endeavour. Unfortunately, when a northern team travels to Central America in what becomes a battle of endurance, the weathered latin team's legs usually win out. It was no different on this night.
Wave after wave of attack beat down on the Impact's 18 yard box as Santos laid siege to the Montreal goal. For a while, the Impact were resolute in destroying whatever creativity was flung upon them. Right place, Right time, that kinda thing. Then the goals came. By the 90th minute, the score was 3-2 Santos and it looked like an Impact victory as we waited for the fourth official to signal the amount of stoppage time. The electronic board was raised above his head and flashed "4". Where he found four minutes, I'll never know. More on this later.
By this time, there were 11 white Impact jerseys jammed into the tight space of the 18-yard box. Their legs were visibly tired, and it seemed as though they hoped to build some sort of impenetrable wall to keep the ball out for four long, arduous minutes. The first goal went in, and the Santos players rushed back across the halfway line to get the game started again. It was too much for the tired Impact defenders. The last goal went in as the crowd went absolutely bonkers. If I wasn't cheering for the Impact I would have allowed myself a smile. Instead I sat in my La-z-boy in complete shock, my heart sinking into the pit of my stomach. How in the world had this turned into a Bill Simmons "gut-punch" game?
At a certain point in the second half, the referee lost the plot. A Santos player merited a red card on two incidents in the same sequence, for lifting his spikes at an incoming challenge and then raising his hands to the face of the defender when he called him on his intent to injure. All he got was a yellow, yet the rulebook is black and white about striking an opposing player's face with your hand. Then referee failed to call a penalty on the Santos keeper after he brought down the Impact striker in the box. Should have been a penalty shot, and Santos went straight back down the field and scored. And then there was the four minutes of stoppage time. Another dubious CONCACAF officiating decision that favours a Central Amercian team. Shameful, that. Now you know why I titled this thread "Loser's Lament".
All in all, we'll all have to take a deep breath and forget this unforgettable evening, instead remembering the year the Impact went on their improbable run to the quarterfinal of this prestigious competition and made Canada proud.
Last week I undertook a daring mid-week there and back again adventure to Montréal, in order to take in a historic moment in Canadian soccer history. The Impact were playing the first leg of a home-and-home quarterfinal match against Santos Laguna, the champions of last season's Mexican domestic league.
History was being made on the pitch, as Montréal was representing Canada's first entry in the CONCACAF Champions League, and doing so with aplomb. After securing the right to represent Canada by winning the Voyageurs Cup (a mini-tournament that took place over the length of the summer with Canada's other two notable professional teams, Vancouver Whitecaps and Toronto FC), they bowled over most of their opposition originating from clubs in Mexico, Guatemala and Trinidad & Tobago to reach the present quarterfinal stage.
History was also being made off the pitch with Olympic Stadium being reincarnated as a soccer mecca, attracting 55,571 of my closest friends. That ranked as the third highest attendance for a soccer match in the country, all-time.
Having arrived near the stadium in plenty of time before kickoff, we were nonetheless delayed from entering the venue due to a catastrophic lack of planning by organizers. It was no secret that the house was going to be rocking with a 50,000+ crowd, but organizers did nothing to facilitate the flow of humanity trying to get into the stadium. No police directing traffic at major intersections, no parking attendants to direct us to the nearest available parking. The end result is that we stood still in traffic for an hour, missing 30 minutes of the first half and the first goal 5 minutes in, and that only because our lovely companions urged us to hand over parking duties to them so we could go ahead. Our eternal thanks, ladies.
Despite the inconvenience and frustration of the arrival, all those feelings melted away as we found our section (and removing some fairly large Mexican supporters who were squatting in our seats - good thing my buddy Karl is so intimidating!). Being part of such a large crowd, a SOCCER crowd no less, tends to make you forget your worries other than the peaks and valleys of the action unfolding before you.
The match was already 1-0 to the Impact when we arrived, and within a few moments we could tell that the Impact had a fantastic game plan and were executing it to perfection. The skill level of the opposing team was superior, but Montréal's defend-and-counter strategy was too much for Santos Laguna to overcome. It almost seemed like the Mexican champions thought that by simply showing up the match was already won.
Adding a second half goal to make it 2-0, as well as having a keeper in Matt Jordan that dominated his area, was all the Impact needed to seal the first leg victory. The atmosphere was typical of a Montreal crowd: enthusiastic, passionate and in love with the big moment.
The return match is tonight in Torreon, Mexico in front of a hostile crowd and you can watch it at 10pm on CBC Bold or stream it at CBC.ca. Montréal will advance if the following happens:
Impact wins
Impact ties
Impact loses by 1
Impact loses by 2 but scores a goal
They've got one foot in the door already. Is it too early to dream of March 18th sold out semi-final match at the Big "O"?
I had to curb my sports viewing over the past couple of days as our family welcomed its newest furry member, a puppy named Maya. It's my first puppy and as much as people warn you of the work that goes into training a dog, it is still overwhelming. Less sleep, less down time, always having to be alert as to what she's up to - it's very draining and doesn't allow for much sports viewing (but don't get me wrong - oh so worth it!).
I won't bog you down with details, but if you like car racing check it out this Saturday from 10am on Speed (to watch the race from the point where there are no interruptions for NASCAR qualifying, tune in from 2pm to 10pm). I'll post my views on this year's edition of Sebring on Monday, and will continue to comment on it throughout the season. Of particular interest is the return of BMW to the series, and Audi returning but without a factory car.
