The epic drama that is Brett Favre's long and illustrious NFL career was given another chapter Tuesday when the gunslinger from Mississippi stepped off the chartered jet in Minneapolis-St. Paul, was followed like the Beatles in their hay-day on a freeway on the way from the airport to the Winter Park training facility and signed his name to the bottom of reportedly a two-year, $10-12 million contract with the hated Minnesota Vikings.
Here's the thing: his actions today helped the Green Bay Packers out in the long run.
No really. Here me out.
As I'm typing this, I'm pretty much certain he'll find a way to convey that same message to Ed Werder, Rachel Nichols or friend/reporter Al Jones.
Here's why Favre's unretirement (Did he actually retire this last time? And how will anyone believe this King of Wafflers when he finally does hang up the cleats again for the third time?) actually helped Green Bay in the long run. In years past, no one wanted to be that guy -- the guy that follows the legend. Look at Brian Griese in Denver after John Elway left, or Elvis Grbac after the era of Steve Young and Joe Montata ended in San Francisco, or even Mr. What's His Face after Troy Aikman was concussed for the last time in Dallas. That guy usually gets its butt kicked, leaving everyone wishing for the Legend to return.
Look in Green Bay. No one's looking for Favre to come back. The town, the team and Packer Nation has galvanized behind Aaron Rodgers, a quarterback that did alright in his first year but only lead Green Bay to a 6-10 record after the team made the NFC title game the year before. Part of that had to do with Ryan Grant running on a bad leg, part a piss-poor defense. But going into Year 2 of the Rodgers Era in Green Bay, no one's looking for Favre to ride in on his tractor from Mississippi to save the day.
Instead we as Packer Fans are looking forward to Week 4 of the NFL season, when Rodgers and Co. travel to the Humpty Dump to take on Minnesota and Favre. How sweet would it be to see Rodgers lead the Pack to a big win over Minnesota and lead the Pack to a 4-0 record going into the bye week?
Brett Favre, through all his crying, whining and diva B.S., has made Green Bay a stronger team in the long run.
Thanks again Brett.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Please take (plenty of) time to give blood
DOVER-FOXCROFT — The first time I gave blood was in college, weeks after 9/11 when the American Red Cross held a blood drive on campus.
Not knowing what I was getting myself into — or how much time it would take me to answer all 50 questions and fill out the paperwork, let alone fill the plastic bag and head out — I popped in at the blood drive before class on a whim and donated. It felt good to help out, but having to rush off to lecture and climb up the University of Wisconsin’s picturesque Bascom Hill a unit of blood short left me a little woozy after the hike and wishing I had taken the Red Cross up on that free pizza and juice they were offering up to students.
Eight years later, a sign on the corner of North and Summer streets on Wednesday afternoon had me thinking again about donating to the Red Cross. It’s been long overdue and something I’ve wanted to do on a regular basis ever since I moved to Maine.
Again, I did this on a whim, with no regard to how long the process takes. I only had an hour before I had to be somewhere, but figured it would only take 10 minutes for me to give a unit of blood for a good cause and get out the door.
Fat chance.
While I am all for donating blood because our hospitals throughout the nation need it to help patients, the 50 questions about a person’s overseas travels and — um … “extracurricular activities” — was just a little unnerving to answer to, at least to a complete stranger. However, I had nothing to hide with these questions and it’s for a good cause so I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing at some of the inquiries and answered everything truthfully.
After all the paperwork was filled out, questions answered and blood tested for iron levels, I was finally led to a table in the Morton Ave. Municipal Gymnasium to give blood. The clock at my feet said 1:25 p.m., just 35 minutes before I was expected in Guilford. If everything worked out right, I could easily make it there in time.
The Red Cross staff did a great job that afternoon helping out those that walked through the door, but I realized pretty fast this would not be a quick process. I, like most people, looked away when they shoved the needle into the vein protruding from the inside of my right elbow. Just six minutes later, time spent staring either at the ceiling and the clock at my feet, the bag was full.
1:45 p.m. was when I finally made the “recovery table” in the gym, stacked with Red Cross T-shirts, cookies, chips, juice and water. I considered grabbing a bottle of water and making my way out the door, but then I remembered that walk up Bascom Hill all those years ago and decided it would be best to listen to the medical professionals and take a seat — at least for a minute or two.
I’m now counting down the 56 days until I can donate again. Maybe next time I’ll block off more than 45 minutes for the donation — and bring a book to read too.
Not knowing what I was getting myself into — or how much time it would take me to answer all 50 questions and fill out the paperwork, let alone fill the plastic bag and head out — I popped in at the blood drive before class on a whim and donated. It felt good to help out, but having to rush off to lecture and climb up the University of Wisconsin’s picturesque Bascom Hill a unit of blood short left me a little woozy after the hike and wishing I had taken the Red Cross up on that free pizza and juice they were offering up to students.
Eight years later, a sign on the corner of North and Summer streets on Wednesday afternoon had me thinking again about donating to the Red Cross. It’s been long overdue and something I’ve wanted to do on a regular basis ever since I moved to Maine.
Again, I did this on a whim, with no regard to how long the process takes. I only had an hour before I had to be somewhere, but figured it would only take 10 minutes for me to give a unit of blood for a good cause and get out the door.
Fat chance.
While I am all for donating blood because our hospitals throughout the nation need it to help patients, the 50 questions about a person’s overseas travels and — um … “extracurricular activities” — was just a little unnerving to answer to, at least to a complete stranger. However, I had nothing to hide with these questions and it’s for a good cause so I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing at some of the inquiries and answered everything truthfully.
After all the paperwork was filled out, questions answered and blood tested for iron levels, I was finally led to a table in the Morton Ave. Municipal Gymnasium to give blood. The clock at my feet said 1:25 p.m., just 35 minutes before I was expected in Guilford. If everything worked out right, I could easily make it there in time.
The Red Cross staff did a great job that afternoon helping out those that walked through the door, but I realized pretty fast this would not be a quick process. I, like most people, looked away when they shoved the needle into the vein protruding from the inside of my right elbow. Just six minutes later, time spent staring either at the ceiling and the clock at my feet, the bag was full.
1:45 p.m. was when I finally made the “recovery table” in the gym, stacked with Red Cross T-shirts, cookies, chips, juice and water. I considered grabbing a bottle of water and making my way out the door, but then I remembered that walk up Bascom Hill all those years ago and decided it would be best to listen to the medical professionals and take a seat — at least for a minute or two.
I’m now counting down the 56 days until I can donate again. Maybe next time I’ll block off more than 45 minutes for the donation — and bring a book to read too.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Weather, construction takes toll on this writer
DOVER-FOXCROFT — It’s hard to get away from complaining — er, I mean conversing — about construction nowadays. Or the weather for that matter. Some sort of goofy weather system coming through the area is almost as much of a given as a 10 minute traffic delay due to road construction in these parts.
That being said, there are four things I noticed this weekend that have left me scratching my head, leaving me with more questions than answers.
The first happened Friday, when a freak cold front pushed through the Penquis region. It brought with it a quick, nasty rain storm that seemingly dropped trees on power lines throughout the entire region. I rushed over to the Dover-Foxcroft Fire Station when the call came out for help clearing trees out of the road and off the lines when I heard the same call go out to the Brownville, Milo, Charleston, Bradford and Dexter areas. The storm came through quickly, dropped a little bit of rain and seemed to have a little wind to it, but it didn’t seem like it would bring the whole forest down as well. Luckily no one seemed to be hurt in all that.
Shortly there after, I get a call from my dad back in Wisconsin to break the good news to me: they finally got some rain. Sounds weird, doesn’t it? After the summer we’ve been having, it’s strange to hear someone nowadays happy to see rain falling from the sky.
In that part of eastern Wisconsin, it’s not uncommon for the region to go through a few weeks of drought-like conditions before it rains again. This year seemed worse than most and Dad is counting on his corn crop a little more this year than in the past so he needed rain in a hurry.
Well, he got it from the sounds of it — in the way of 2.75 inches of rain. However, it’s actually dried out to the point where Dad’s already looking for another inch of rain if he could get it. I’m still telling Dad he can have all the rain he wants from here.
After all that, I just walked out the door of the Observer office Friday evening for my softball game at the fairgrounds when I was greeted with a cold breeze that sent me running back inside for a jacket, sweatshirt — something more than the T-shirt and athletic shorts I was wearing at the moment. That storm front that moved through dropped temperatures from the 70s to the 50s in a hurry and I was stranded in Dover-Foxcroft with nothing but a thin track jacket to fend off the cool night.
It was August 8, for Pete’s sake. I didn’t think I needed to start leaving a sweatshirt in the car for cold Maine nights, especially seeing that the sun hadn’t set yet. Those nights were supposed to be reserved for late September.
Monday I made my way back to Dover, back to work, softball and rain. Packed next to me in the car was a sweatshirt next to my camera and notepad. I learned my lesson from last week.
Of course, as I turned onto Route 43 outside of Hudson, I was met with a Maine Department of Transportation road crew tearing up the road installing a new culvert to alleviate flooding along the low-lying roadway. Instead of actual human flaggers, however, this crew was using a remote-controlled flagger trailer that had traffic stopped — for no reason it seemed — for over 10 minutes. I could see traffic held up on the other side of the construction zone, waiting for the armbar to rise and light to turn from red to blinking yellow signifying “You may finally move forward now.”
That’s when it occurred to me how much I missed human flaggers instead of these obnoxious robots. At least with people standing there they can react to a situation and move traffic more efficiently. And at least with people there you can see that something is being accomplished, at least some of the time. That, and it’s hard for me to get that upset at a person doing their job.
Then again, if I start getting frustrated about robot flaggers, or the weather for that matter, this late in the season, I’m going to have a meltdown by November —just in time for snow, ice and potholes to kick in.
That being said, there are four things I noticed this weekend that have left me scratching my head, leaving me with more questions than answers.
The first happened Friday, when a freak cold front pushed through the Penquis region. It brought with it a quick, nasty rain storm that seemingly dropped trees on power lines throughout the entire region. I rushed over to the Dover-Foxcroft Fire Station when the call came out for help clearing trees out of the road and off the lines when I heard the same call go out to the Brownville, Milo, Charleston, Bradford and Dexter areas. The storm came through quickly, dropped a little bit of rain and seemed to have a little wind to it, but it didn’t seem like it would bring the whole forest down as well. Luckily no one seemed to be hurt in all that.
Shortly there after, I get a call from my dad back in Wisconsin to break the good news to me: they finally got some rain. Sounds weird, doesn’t it? After the summer we’ve been having, it’s strange to hear someone nowadays happy to see rain falling from the sky.
In that part of eastern Wisconsin, it’s not uncommon for the region to go through a few weeks of drought-like conditions before it rains again. This year seemed worse than most and Dad is counting on his corn crop a little more this year than in the past so he needed rain in a hurry.
Well, he got it from the sounds of it — in the way of 2.75 inches of rain. However, it’s actually dried out to the point where Dad’s already looking for another inch of rain if he could get it. I’m still telling Dad he can have all the rain he wants from here.
After all that, I just walked out the door of the Observer office Friday evening for my softball game at the fairgrounds when I was greeted with a cold breeze that sent me running back inside for a jacket, sweatshirt — something more than the T-shirt and athletic shorts I was wearing at the moment. That storm front that moved through dropped temperatures from the 70s to the 50s in a hurry and I was stranded in Dover-Foxcroft with nothing but a thin track jacket to fend off the cool night.
It was August 8, for Pete’s sake. I didn’t think I needed to start leaving a sweatshirt in the car for cold Maine nights, especially seeing that the sun hadn’t set yet. Those nights were supposed to be reserved for late September.
Monday I made my way back to Dover, back to work, softball and rain. Packed next to me in the car was a sweatshirt next to my camera and notepad. I learned my lesson from last week.
Of course, as I turned onto Route 43 outside of Hudson, I was met with a Maine Department of Transportation road crew tearing up the road installing a new culvert to alleviate flooding along the low-lying roadway. Instead of actual human flaggers, however, this crew was using a remote-controlled flagger trailer that had traffic stopped — for no reason it seemed — for over 10 minutes. I could see traffic held up on the other side of the construction zone, waiting for the armbar to rise and light to turn from red to blinking yellow signifying “You may finally move forward now.”
That’s when it occurred to me how much I missed human flaggers instead of these obnoxious robots. At least with people standing there they can react to a situation and move traffic more efficiently. And at least with people there you can see that something is being accomplished, at least some of the time. That, and it’s hard for me to get that upset at a person doing their job.
Then again, if I start getting frustrated about robot flaggers, or the weather for that matter, this late in the season, I’m going to have a meltdown by November —just in time for snow, ice and potholes to kick in.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
My call for an interstate in northern Maine
“… despite notable successes in the past few years, Maine has suffered from an increasing tax burden, endemic loss of jobs and opportunities throughout many parts of the state ,and the persistent and growing perception that Maine policymakers are hostile to business and the economy of Maine … “
This is a quote from “Where We Stand 2003” a publication put out by the Maine State Chamber of Commerce six years ago. It’s one of the numerous old texts that I sift through on a daily basis in the Observer office. On a whim when my eyes needed a break from the hundreds of Shiretown Homecoming photos our staff took Friday and Saturday, I picked up the booklet on a walk through the back of the office and started to skim through it.
The MSCC stated in its introduction there are six areas that lawmakers needed to focus on to put Maine in a better place: reducing the cost of health care, improving the economic development prospects, reducing the state’s tax burden, reigning in government spending, reforming the worker’s compensation system and keeping education at the forefront of future growth.
All those points are easily talking points of any political session, even in the six years since this publication was printed. That being said, there was one thing that strikes me as something that is truly needed in the Penquis region and moreover for northern Maine: “the creation of a high-speed four lane divided east/west highway, as well as the four-lane extension of I-95 to Madawaska.”
An interstate highway makes a large difference in the marketplace, especially in rural Maine where that is the only source of transportation of goods given that rail has fallen to the wayside and air transportation is not logical.
Growing up next to I-43 in eastern Wisconsin, I noticed just how much of a difference an interstate roadway makes in an urban area. Dotted along the roadway in Sheboygan is a series of large factories, box stores, restaurants, industrial parks and housing subdivisions that give the town of 50,000 a large tax base to work off of. It brings in people, and most importantly brings in work. There too, rail is not what it once was and air transportation makes little sense.
If you go west from the interstate, jobs become more sparse because the factory work is located closer to the main artery. It quickly becomes a land where farming is king — well, at least the land is there for farming, and it’s prosperous for a few.
At any rate, an east/west interstate that connected Quebec to Nova Scotia through Maine would likely have to go through southern Piscataquis County to be effective and cost-efficient. It would make Piscataquis County a much more desirable location to start a business and for tourists— especially if this new east/west highway had a I-95 spur shoot off from the Pittsfield area and connect west to Greenville or Guilford.
As the MSCC said in 2003, “transportation infrastructure investments are critical to Maine’s economic future in several ways. First, they generate substantial numbers of jobs during construction. Even more importantly, once completed, major transportation arterials serve as a foundation for economic growth and development.”
Granted, the interstate is not the be-all, end-all for economic growth. If it is not supported correctly, jobs leave just as quickly as they come in. In Sheboygan, numerous factories have closed or downsized due to the economic recession. The kicker is, however, that more jobs are slowly trickling in again — in large part because of its access to the outside world.
I’d hate to see the authors of “Where We Stand 2023” have to recite that same passage that was written six years ago. It’s time the Penquis region get that same kind of access.
This is a quote from “Where We Stand 2003” a publication put out by the Maine State Chamber of Commerce six years ago. It’s one of the numerous old texts that I sift through on a daily basis in the Observer office. On a whim when my eyes needed a break from the hundreds of Shiretown Homecoming photos our staff took Friday and Saturday, I picked up the booklet on a walk through the back of the office and started to skim through it.
The MSCC stated in its introduction there are six areas that lawmakers needed to focus on to put Maine in a better place: reducing the cost of health care, improving the economic development prospects, reducing the state’s tax burden, reigning in government spending, reforming the worker’s compensation system and keeping education at the forefront of future growth.
All those points are easily talking points of any political session, even in the six years since this publication was printed. That being said, there was one thing that strikes me as something that is truly needed in the Penquis region and moreover for northern Maine: “the creation of a high-speed four lane divided east/west highway, as well as the four-lane extension of I-95 to Madawaska.”
An interstate highway makes a large difference in the marketplace, especially in rural Maine where that is the only source of transportation of goods given that rail has fallen to the wayside and air transportation is not logical.
Growing up next to I-43 in eastern Wisconsin, I noticed just how much of a difference an interstate roadway makes in an urban area. Dotted along the roadway in Sheboygan is a series of large factories, box stores, restaurants, industrial parks and housing subdivisions that give the town of 50,000 a large tax base to work off of. It brings in people, and most importantly brings in work. There too, rail is not what it once was and air transportation makes little sense.
If you go west from the interstate, jobs become more sparse because the factory work is located closer to the main artery. It quickly becomes a land where farming is king — well, at least the land is there for farming, and it’s prosperous for a few.
At any rate, an east/west interstate that connected Quebec to Nova Scotia through Maine would likely have to go through southern Piscataquis County to be effective and cost-efficient. It would make Piscataquis County a much more desirable location to start a business and for tourists— especially if this new east/west highway had a I-95 spur shoot off from the Pittsfield area and connect west to Greenville or Guilford.
As the MSCC said in 2003, “transportation infrastructure investments are critical to Maine’s economic future in several ways. First, they generate substantial numbers of jobs during construction. Even more importantly, once completed, major transportation arterials serve as a foundation for economic growth and development.”
Granted, the interstate is not the be-all, end-all for economic growth. If it is not supported correctly, jobs leave just as quickly as they come in. In Sheboygan, numerous factories have closed or downsized due to the economic recession. The kicker is, however, that more jobs are slowly trickling in again — in large part because of its access to the outside world.
I’d hate to see the authors of “Where We Stand 2023” have to recite that same passage that was written six years ago. It’s time the Penquis region get that same kind of access.
The Catch-22 of Rec Sports
ORONO — As the opposing shortstop caught the infield pop-up for the third out, our 2009 rec-league softball season was over. Our team, the Dead Animals, capped a solid season off with a disappointing first-round exit in the playoffs. We all lined up and shook hands, wishing the Hollywood Slots team the best of luck in their next game and commending them on a good game.
The drive home from Orono High School was short, but there was plenty of time to sit there in the car wondering how I could have done more to help. There was the 0-for-3 performance from the plate that didn’t help, or the pop fly to left center that I should have caught instead of getting called off my the left fielder.
Rec-league softball is a strange Catch-22 for me. On one hand, it’s supposed to be fun and laid back. It’s more important to hang out with friends and have a laugh than anything else — at least that’s what my wife tells me every week. She’s a bit more of an optimist than I am.
I try to have a good time each week, and winning goes a long way toward that goal. The kicker is, I have such a competitive streak in me that I can’t brush the losses off that easily. It stings every time, some games worse than others. Monday night was no exception, as we yet again failed to build off a solid regular season with a strong run in the playoffs.
This may sound like Bill Belichick talking to reporters after a post-season loss, but it’s the truth. At some point a little post-season glory would be nice.
I know I’m not alone in this. No matter if it is in Orono or Dover-Foxcroft, people take their rec sports seriously. You can’t fault a person for that. No one wants to go out each week and get their butt kicked on the diamond, even if it is just for fun and laughs.
Part of it has to do with the fact that rec-league sports is in many ways the only competitive release people have anymore. How these recreational leagues are treated by many adults remind me of the way kids treat high school sports — with the same intensity, the same passion and sometimes the same frustration at each loss.
I know Monday night I felt that frustration. An 0-for-3 night at the plate will gnaw away at me for a few days, at least until I step up to the plate Friday night at the Fairgrounds for the YMCA league game. I’ll be looking for a little redemption that night, something to let me know that Monday’s loss was a fluke and that I’m a better player than that.
Otherwise it’s going to be a long winter of waiting for softball to start up again.
The drive home from Orono High School was short, but there was plenty of time to sit there in the car wondering how I could have done more to help. There was the 0-for-3 performance from the plate that didn’t help, or the pop fly to left center that I should have caught instead of getting called off my the left fielder.
Rec-league softball is a strange Catch-22 for me. On one hand, it’s supposed to be fun and laid back. It’s more important to hang out with friends and have a laugh than anything else — at least that’s what my wife tells me every week. She’s a bit more of an optimist than I am.
I try to have a good time each week, and winning goes a long way toward that goal. The kicker is, I have such a competitive streak in me that I can’t brush the losses off that easily. It stings every time, some games worse than others. Monday night was no exception, as we yet again failed to build off a solid regular season with a strong run in the playoffs.
This may sound like Bill Belichick talking to reporters after a post-season loss, but it’s the truth. At some point a little post-season glory would be nice.
I know I’m not alone in this. No matter if it is in Orono or Dover-Foxcroft, people take their rec sports seriously. You can’t fault a person for that. No one wants to go out each week and get their butt kicked on the diamond, even if it is just for fun and laughs.
Part of it has to do with the fact that rec-league sports is in many ways the only competitive release people have anymore. How these recreational leagues are treated by many adults remind me of the way kids treat high school sports — with the same intensity, the same passion and sometimes the same frustration at each loss.
I know Monday night I felt that frustration. An 0-for-3 night at the plate will gnaw away at me for a few days, at least until I step up to the plate Friday night at the Fairgrounds for the YMCA league game. I’ll be looking for a little redemption that night, something to let me know that Monday’s loss was a fluke and that I’m a better player than that.
Otherwise it’s going to be a long winter of waiting for softball to start up again.
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