Leave it to a punk rock band fronted by a Irishmen to capture urban Midwestern decay so perfectly. Great track from Flogging Molly's latest release, Speed of Darkness.

My bride and I giggling after I accidentally tried to marry the priest

One year ago to this day, I found myself kneeling before God praying that I wouldn’t pass out in front everyone I’ve ever known and the most beautiful girl in the world. I had made the unfortunate mistake of ordering a five-cheese omelette that morning at breakfast. The quintet of cheese was making monstrous noises in my stomach and the holy altar at St. Paul of the Cross was strangely hotter than hell...

So I looked up to the giant wooden Jesus on the cross above and prayed that I could stay conscious long enough to make it through the ceremony. Although a sweaty groom who foolishly ingested 100 times his daily dairy intake was likely not #1 on God’s to-do list, I hoped he’d spare my wife the embarrassment of watching her soon-to-be-husband take a swan dive on the same altar where she received her first communion.

The night before, friends and family had gathered at Carlucci in Rosemont for a rehearsal diner party hosted by my parents. The past four and half months had been a total whirlwind of photography appointments, list making sessions, DJ meetings, and in-depth wedding day discussions –most of which I was completely uninvolved in. Shannon had done it all. Making my way through all my Irish relatives and red-faced groomsmen and ushers, I was amazed that in only a few hours I would have my wife for keeps.

It was eighty miles north and four years prior that Shannon and I had our first real conversation in her brother Brendan’s dirty Marquette dining room. My first thought when she began talking to me and smiling that gorgeous smile at me was 'what is wrong with her.' Why on God’s green Earth would a girl this lovely give me the time of day? Nevertheless, we chatted the night away amongst a blur cheap beer and playing cards. She even let me share a part of seat with her at the crowded party. We talked about music, our families, people we knew, and I’m sure many more things, but all I could think about was how big and blue her eyes were up close. Sauntering back to my house on 19th street that night, I couldn’t help but feel that something monumental had begun in my life.

I still had my doubts about my chances with Ms. Sullivan. Although some may believe that one shouldn’t place romantic limitations on oneself, I strongly believed she was out of my league. Shannon was a daughter of a Chicago politician and carried herself with such elegance that I assumed she would only date the classiest of guys, not a guy whose wardrobe mainly consisted of cargo shorts and Bruce Springsteen t-shirts. I needed to find out if her flirtatious smiles and willingness to talk to me for more than hour was the real deal or just a momentary lapse in sanity on her part.

So I did what any hopeless romantic would do. I stalked her. OK, so I didn’t like stalk her in the creepy hiding behind the bushes sense. I would go eat lunch everyday in the cafeteria at Schroeder Hall in the hopes that we would run into each other by “accident.” I would look out across the cafeteria and scope the crowd for Shannon’s curly head of hair. I loved the fact that she had the kind of hair Irish dancers would have killed for. You could pick her out of crowd anywhere.

I eventually spotted her one day getting up to get another bowl of tomatoes and quickly set my bowl of jello aside and ran over to her. Acting like I just so happened to be finishing lunch at that moment, I gave her an awkward hug and said we should have lunch sometime. We began to talk more and had a few cafeteria lunch dates chaperoned by her brother Brendan.  At parties we would sneakily hold hands when no one was looking like a pair of toddlers who fell in love in the sandbox.

I had already told most of my friends about my ongoing courtship of Shannon and received tons of solicited and unsolicited advise from the gang on how to win her heart. My roommates suggested everything from asking her out while wearing a chicken costume to arranging a middle ages-styled meeting with Brendan to negotiate his sister’s hand. Instead, I just waited for Brendan to go out of town and invited Shannon over to a party at our house. We danced to eighties music (the only kind of music Shannon listens to) and finally I got up enough courage to kiss her. It was easily the best decision of my life. And although there’s much more to our journey to the altar, that magical night in Milwaukee felt like yesterday as I awoke on our wedding day.

Upon my waking at the Courtyard Marriott, I immediately realized I had failed to pack many of the basic essentials necessary to make myself appear to be a respectable groom. I had to rely on my best man, Bill, for: a razor, shaving cream, deodorant, socks, and tooth brush. I even needed to borrow a pair of his boxers. Apparently, not everyone wears their own underwear to their wedding.  I felt like I was in second grade again at St. Edith’s, fumbling through my desk for my homework. Nervous, excited, and overwrought with hope that my bride would get everything she ever wanted on her wedding day, we set out for the ceremony.

My brother Terry, his wife Jamie, and Bill made me calm my nerves by telling me jokes as we rolled through the familiar images of downtown Park Ridge. Over the past two years since I had graduated from Marquette, I had spent countless hours in Shannon’s suburban hometown. Working all day at the Park Ridge Library on various freelance writing gigs and besieging her parent’s refrigerator at night for make-shift dinners, Park Ridge had almost become a second home to me.

Seeing my brothers, soon-to-be-brother-in-laws, and friends dressed in tuxedos when we got out of the car settled down the butterflies moshing in my stomach. I had never seen Terry, Tim, Brendan, the Sullivan Brothers, Cradick, March, Kearney, Bill, and Big John more dressed up in my entire life. I was so accustomed to seeing my friends wearing ill-fitting jean shorts and hoodies that I couldn’t help but smile at the change in our attire. We took pictures outside the church cracking jokes until everyone was rushed off into their designated pre-wedding posts.

Inside the church, the sweat began forming on my forehead as the music played and each of my groomsmen walked out to greet a bridesmaid along aisle. Eventually. I was left at the altar to await my bride. Eternity seemed to pass while I waited for the big doors of the narthex to open. Shannon had absolutely forbid me to see her before our wedding. I smiled a big smile for everyone as the seconds passed as I awaited my first glimpse of white. Finally the music stopped and the pianist began playing “Canon in D.”

The doors of St. Paul opened and there, smiling like a saint, walked my bride.  Wearing a classically beautiful dress of white and her cheeks as rosy as the day I met her, Shannon glided toward me in arm with her tearful father, the most honorable Dave Sullivan. It felt like all the faces in the church washed away and I was left with this radiant beauty starring at me with her perfect smile. People later said I looked like someone had punched me straight in the stomach when Shannon walked down the aisle. She, literally, knocked the air right out of me and again I wondered how I had tricked this babe into a lifetime of love.

In the end, Jesus came through. I preserved through the hot lights of the almost sixty year old church to make it back down the aisle and into the forgiving June air. I had married my dream girl and my dream girl had married me. Despite my flirtations with blacking out, I will look back on that day as my best day. A man couldn’t have a more caring, more beautiful, more wonderful wife than my Shannon. She loves me and all her close ones with such a ferocity she can barely contain it.  This past year with Shannon has been the best year of my life. Thank you my love.

Happy Anniversary Shannon,

Sean

#11 Missouri knocks off #1 Oklahoma as missed red zone opportunities sink Sooners.

Early Momentum Swings

Fourteen seconds into the Saturday night showdown in Columbia, Missouri, Tiger fans had reason to believe the third number one team would fall in as many weeks.

Oklahoma sent the opening kickoff short; outside the numbers and just shy of the 20-yard-line.  Cue upback Gahn McGaffie.  The sophomore wide receiver exploded through a crease, high-stepped the kicker’s shoestring tackle attempt, and followed a two-man convoy into the end zone.  Missouri 7, Oklahoma 0.

The Mizzou defense was stout in their first series forcing Oklahoma into a three-and-out, with a 3rd down sack of Landry Jones an exclamation point to send the hometown crowd into a frenzy.

Then the punt.

The Tigers deep man, Carl Gettis, muffed the punt.  Oklahoma recovered and just that quick, the Sooners were in business.  Four plays and 44 yards later, the Sooners tied it on a 27-yard touchdown pass from Jones to freshman receiver Kenny Stills.

Timely Turnovers

Oklahoma looked primed to go up 14-7 late in the 1st quarter, driving downfield with tailback DeMarco Murray lined up at slot and true freshman RB Roy Finch carrying out of the backfield.  But, on 1st and 10 from the Missouri 12, DE Aldon Smith picked Landry Jones, returning the ball 58 yards to the Oklahoma 28.

Six plays later, running back De’Vion Moore scored from a yard out to give Mizzou the 14-7 lead early in the 2nd quarter.

The Sooners switched up the tempo on the next drive, operating in the no-huddle.  Sparked by Ryan Broyles’ 39 yard catch-and-run, Oklahoma drove into the red zone and proceeded to turn the ball over again on a Mossis Madu fumble.

With 4:08 in the first half, the third time proved to be the charm.  Oklahoma marched down the field efficiently yet again.  This time the Sooners punched it in.  Landry Jones hit DeMarco Murray on a four-yard swing pass to tie the score at 14.

Later in the game, after Blaine Gabbert hooked up with Jerrell Jackson on a 38 yard touchdown strike to give Missouri a 26-21 lead early in the 4th quarter, Zaviar Gooden intercepted Landry Jones on Oklahoma’s first play from scrimmage.  The Tigers converted the pick into a pivotal field goal, stretching their lead to eight.

Closing in the Clutch

After an Oklahoma three-and-out gave Missouri the ball at their own 24 with 8:57 left in regulation, Coach Gary Pinkel didn’t get conservative and play not to lose; Pinkel and Offensive Coordinator Dave Yost went for the throat.

Gabbert, Moore & co. were happy to oblige.  With a five play, 76 yard touchdown drive that included three consecutive plays of 15 or more yards, the Missouri Tigers locked up their first victory over the Sooners since 1998.

Odds and Ends

Quarterbacks Landry Jones and Blaine Gabbert both finished with over 300 yards passing.

Mizzou junior wideout Jerrell Jackson had a career night with nine catches for 139 yards and a touchdown.

The Tigers held the ball over 38 minutes, outrushing Oklahoma 178-99 in the process.

Missouri kicker Grant Ressel hit fields goals of 36, 30, and 23 yards in the game; embattled Oklahoma kicker Jimmy Stevens hooked his only attempt of the night, a 30 yard try early in the 3rd quarter.

Despite an ankle injury that kept him on the sidelines in the 1st quarter and limited his mobility throughout the game, Oklahoma’s Biletnikoff hopeful Ryan Broyles finished with 8 catches for 110 yards.

Apart from Missouri, Boise State, TCU, and Utah are likely Saturdays biggest winners.  But as the Broncos, Horned Frogs, and Utes move closer to slotting themselves into the National Championship game, the question remains: Would the computers actually give an undefeated non-BCS conference school the nod over a one-loss SEC, Pac-10, Big 12, or Big 10 school?  If recent history is any indication, there will be at least one undefeated school with a legitimate gripe come season’s end.

- Jim March

Clarence Clemons

I often see strange and wonderful things out my window at work. I sit at the front of the office behind a big window with a view of the street. The window's shades prevent passerbys from seeing me, but I see them and all their weirdness. Our office is located in the Lincoln Park neighborhood of Chicago across the street from a Guitar Center and a Home Depot. The area sports a complete cast of characters: yuppies, stay-at-home moms (and dads), musicians, dog walkers, mental patients, etc. Though they cannot be simply be characterized simply be the aforementioned stereotypes, it gives you idea of what I'm working with.

Usually once a day I see something that makes me look twice. From where I sit, I've seen a gay hipster couple engage in a heated lover's quarrel, a man galavanting around with a full ninja sword, a thirty-something woman with hair down to her caboose sporting complete medieval garb, and a muscle-clad musician heading into Guitar Center built like a NFL running back wearing a full African dress and Ugs.

I echoed some of the awesome oddities I've seen to my coworkers, and they suggested I begin writing them down. I thought it over for awhile and concluded that it's highly unlikely that I ever secure a people-watching perch like the one I'm currently occupying, so why not try to occasionally capture it in prose. Who knows? Tomorrow my seat might be moved and this will be all for not, but I thought I'd take advantage of my window to the world while I can.

Today I saw...a dude crossing the street that looked like a ghetto pirate. He sauntered his way to the other side of the street like sailor still getting his barring on land after many anight at sea. It's possible that this was just his pimp walk, but the character was devoid of any said pimp cane. His pants were neon orange and I believe had cargo pockets, while he wore an ill-fitting summer sportcoat. Donning black shades and two different multi-colored bandanas, this man's life story quickly became apparent.

From what I could gather he was obviously a former buccaneer who had retired from chasing salty wenches, took a spell working construction on the highway, had auditioned as a keyboard player in Clarence Clemons' band, and now had finally dusted off his only suit jacket and stepped out into the cruel, cold world - like the millions of the nation's unemployed - to look for work. Godspeed my friend. Godspeed.

The United States is a country obsessed with sports. That being said, there are really only a few annual sporting events that truly take over the public’s viewing interests. Football might be the United States’ #1 sport, but from mid-March to early April, the nation throws itself head-over-heels into in to a college basketball frenzy.

For months leading up to the NCAA Tournament fans hang on experts’ every last word, regardless of the fact that no matter how well versed people are in “Bracketology” chances are their bracket is going to suck. People might even enjoy lamenting how awful their brackets are during the tourney as much as they do watching the games Alumni gather all over the country to root on their alma maters and reminisce about their glory days. Dips of every kind are made in households across all 50 states, as families and friends meet to talk trash and watch the games.

The interactivity of March Madness cannot be rivalled anywhere else in the American sports landscape. People who have absolutely no day-to-day interest in college basketball fill out brackets. Everyone puts in five dollars for tournament pools with their coworkers, family members, or friends. Facebook and ESPN run huge campaigns encouraging people to fill out brackets online.

Las Vegas comes alive during the NCAA Tournament with sports fans coming in from all over to lay down some cash on the games. I have buddy who goes to Vegas with all the men in his family for the first two rounds of the tournament every year. If you can’t make it to Sin City, you can always do your college basketball betting over the Internet.

The tournament has become so successful largely because of upsets. Any team on any given day has a chance to win. It seems like every year a team that no one’s ever heard of makes a “Cinderella” run in the tournament, captivating the general public’s interest in the process. The story of the underdog never gets old. People want to see the Kansas’ and Kentucky’s of the Top 25 get upset by Mid-Majors like George Mason and Northern Iowa.

The idea of the underdog fits the American dream like a glove. Everyone loves the story of someone making something big out of something little. All it takes is some key free throws down the stretch of a ball game or one lucky three point shot and the impossible becomes reality. Almost nothing is impossible in the Big Dance. Sure a #1 seed has never lost in the first round, but it’ll happen eventually.

In the NBA you can almost predict before the season starts what four or five teams have a realistic shot of winning a NBA title. Look at the final scores in the NBA during the regular season. You’re lucky if there are one or two close games. When two teams step out on the court and lay it all the line for forty minutes people will watch. That’s what happens in the NCAA Tournament and for a solid month the public can’t turn away from the T.V.

When you watch the tournament this year, don’t spend the whole time worrying about if this will be the year you win your office pool. Don’t obsess over why you think your buddy is an idiot for picking all #1 seeds to make the Final Four or Wofford to upset Wisconsin. Just admire the way the intensity and unbridled emotion on the court. The game of basketball was meant to be played the way it’s played in March Madness. So just enjoy it.

-Sean Heffernan

Garret Hartley being canonized in New Orleans

The NFC Championship for a moment seemed destined to be decided by the right boot of Minnesota Vikings place kicker Ryan Longwell. The broadcast kept cutting to the 35-year-old former Green Bay Packers kicker warming up as his teammates were moving the ball into field goal range with the score tied 28-28 with the New Orleans Saints in the final moments of the fourth quarter. 

This is what Longwell worked all year for: the chance to kick the game-winning field goal that would send his team to the Super Bowl. Former Packers team mate and living legend Brett Farve had gotten the Vikings down the field to where Longwell would have to kick a 50+ yarder to win the game. Not ideal conditions for Longwell, but he had done it before with his career long being 54 yards. Time was running down and head coach Brad Childress wanted to see if he could get a few more yards to make the kick a little easier. Longwell waited on the sidelines preparing himself for what would be one of the most important kicks of his career.

The trouble is that Longwell never got the chance. The next play Brett Farve rolled out to his right and rifled the football across his body spiraling into the arms of Saints’ defensive back Tracy Porter. On the other sideline 23-year-old Garret Hartley celebrated with his team mates at their team’s good fortune. The Saints had won a number of games this season in odd fashion and Farve’s folly only furthered the idea that they were a team of destiny.

Cajun luck continued to the joy of the 70,000 Saints fans in the Superdome as New Orleans won the coin toss giving them the ball first in overtime. Hartley began taking his warm up kicks as QB Drew Brees (a Farve-like folk legend in the making in New Orleans) led the offense onto the field. The young kicker had called his father the night before the game in the middle of the night to tell him he just had a feeling he would kick the game-winning field goal from 40 yards away on the right hash mark. Hartley was only two yards off. The Saints strung together a few passes aided by a crucial pass interference call against the Vikings setting up the Texas-born kicker for a 42 yard kick to win the game.

The New Orleans Saints had never been to a Super Bowl in their 43 year existence as Hartley lined up for the kick. The entire city hung in the balance as long snapper Jason Kyle snapped the ball back to holder Mark Brunell with the young kicker waiting to strike. Brunell set the snap down perfectly and just as Hartley envisioned the night before he drilled the pigskin right through the goal posts sending the Big Easy into ecstasy. Hartley will forever be remembered for that kick and beloved in New Orleans while Longwell will always wonder about the kick he never got to take. So goes the life of a NFL placekicker.

The Bears future is unclear

The news that former Bears defensive back coach Perry Fewell will be the next defensive coordinator of New York Giants solidifies the fact the Bears seem to be lost in their search for coordinators on both sides of the ball.

GM Jerry Angelo called these decisions the most important of his career since he first hired Lovie Smith in 2004. Perry Fuel seemed to be the perfect fit being that he was a sought after coach who Lovie was comfortable with bringing back to Chicago.

You can't blame Fewell for not wanting to come into situation in which if the team didn't make the playoffs then he'd likely be out of job again in a year. New York likely outbid Chicago as I can't see the McCaskey's sinking too much money into a coach who might only be there for a year.

Chicago's defensive talent also doesn't stack out to the potential that New York has so by all means Fewell probably made the right decision. But where does that leave the Bears? Lost.

The Bears did however hire former Minnesota Vikings head coach Mike Tice as the offensive line coach for the 2010 season. The hire left some people scratching there heads as it might of been premature to hire an assistant coach before you hire a coordinator, but one cannot underestimate the importance of an offensive line coach.

The last few games of the season were a tell-tale sign of how important the big guys up front were to the Bears success. Jay Cutler is a different quarterback when properly protected. Look at the success Brett Farve has had this season behind the offensive line he has in Minnesota. It also appears that center Olin Kreutz will be back next year as Tice met with the former pro bowler as a part of his interviewing process.

Despite the addition of Tice the Bears are still without an offensive coordinator and there are little clues in what direction the organization will go with the coaching vacancy. The position will most likely go to a promising NFL position coach willing to take the risks that go along with joining a coaching staff on the rocks.

Some names that have been mentioned as candidates for the job include Colts wide receivers coach Clyde Christensen and San Diego assistant head coach Rob Chudzinski. Whomever Jerry Angelo and Lovie Smith hire it will no doubt be a pivotal move for the Bears organization.
Who should the Bears hire? Any ideas? Can Lovie save his job in 2010? Share your thoughts below.

-Sean Heffernan

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News reports out of South Carolina have confirmed that 26-year-old Chicago Bears defensive end Gaines Adams has died after being taken to the emergency room last night. The former Tampa Bay Buccaneer and University of Clemson star was pronounced dead at 9 AM ET Sunday morning in Greenwood, S.C. An autopsy is scheduled for Sunday to be preformed by a forensic specialist. Adams had played in the Bears final game of the year against the Detroit Lions and the coroner told local news stations that he was in apparent good health before the time of his passing. SCnow.com is reporting that Adams suffered an apparent heart attack and was rushed to the ER.