I can't believe I thought I could beat Mike Tyson

Last Sunday, Elizabeth and I had the privilege of attending the regional Junior Olympics finals races here in St. Paul. My young cousin Darian Brown was participating in the 100 and 200 meter races. After finishing second in both races, we had the opportunity to spend time with Amy, Brennan, Kierra, and the young athlete Darian. He is only 11. He races against other 11 and 12 year olds. His demeanor, after qualifying for national Junior Olympics, reminded me what is great about sports. At its best, sports serve its participants with a self value, a sense of accomplishment, and a sense of camaraderie with the other competitors.
I find myself waiting with baited breath for a sports outing this weekend. My father and I are meeting in Iowa City. We are hoping to go golfing. Over the years, I have found great solace in the few chances I have had to golf with dad. You see, dad is usually one of short temper. He once canceled a stick shift driving lesson mid-lesson on account of his inability to control his rage (in retrospect, I probably would have killed the truck's engine before that day ended). With that in mind, it is amazing to see that when I am out with my father and I consistently mis-hit or shank or hook or whatever, he is a calming force who shows me exactly what I am doing wrong. Another golf adventure began this week. I am not sure how successful this adventure is going to be, but Tuesday evening I began teaching Lizzie how to golf. We started with the pitching wedge. I hope that by the end of the summer we will be out on the course, knocking the ball around. Even if we aren't, I can honestly say that besides an occasional movie recommendation or football pick, I don't normally find my guidance in high demand. Additionally, I hope that I can muster some of my father's mojo and be a calming force when the inevitable golf frustrations arise.
Many years ago I told my brother I wanted to be a boxer. He told me to put up my dukes. As I raised my hands, he motioned in my direction. This forced one of my raised hands to bonk my nose causing both of my eyes to tear up. Either right then or sometime near then, I realized that watching Ali, Roy Jones, Sugar Ray, and others was the closest I ever wanted to get to the ring. Furthermore, I probably would never walk-on to a NFL team or be noticed by a NBA franchise while playing pick-up hoops at the park. While it’s a hard dream to give up, and sometimes I imagine that if I spent the whole summer golfing, Tiger should watch out, I have grown to realize that Darian Brown, Doyle Trout, and other little cousins of mine are great outlets for what I have learned in sports.
Finally, with the Cubs finally turning around their season and football starting in a few weeks, I want to make one more observation. Hope is always there for the true fan. Honestly, I think the Cubs can win their division. I watch every time I can to see proof that my hope is justified. I don't know much about the Huskers this fall, but for some reason, until they lose a game I think they are 'arguably' national title bound every year. That’s what keeps me interested. I hope that I am involved with a champion. I never was one personally. As a part of Husker Nation and someday as a lifelong Cubs fan, I can be part of a championship (and there is always next year).

What is a Bundini cut?

I have found that most people don't know who Bundini is. I'll make this short. Muhammed Ali is probably the athlete I look up to most in all of sports. One of the people in his entourage was the late Drew 'Bundini' Brown. He was a black Jewish man who can be seen ringside at many of the early Clay fights.
The reason his hair is of note is that he balded, like I am in the process of doing. His baldness, however, took on the look of a perfect crop circle in the middle of the top of his head (it looked like a yarmulke). If anyone can find a picture of this phenomenon, please send me a link so I can post it.

I don't really have the Bundini

I have been told many times that people want to hear a smidgin' of what I have to say. That is the purpose of starting this blog.
First of, let me explain my title of the blog. We don't really. I exaggerate. If you're thinking, "Man, it must have been a really long time since I saw Andrew for him to have the Bundini", then you probably haven't seen me in a really long time, jerkface. Ali is my hero. If I could have caught his spit and rubbed his brow for one round, I would live with the Bundini.
Another reason for starting the blog is simple. I am eventually going to get a degree in journalism so I can publish film reviews. This is a perfect venue for me to sharpen my writing skills. Please, please, please, if you wanna criticize my writing, do so. In the end, you are helping me.
Finally, I am torn between many different areas of interest and have constant internal monologues about these subjects. I hope to start articulating some of my thoughts. And the best part is, if you don't care about Husker football or the quality of MPR, you could read my opinion of the new Escape From New York or the importance of emerging queer cinema versus the resurgence of Mexican film.