Oh man, it's great to be back here at my blogging sanctuary. It's depressing that it's been over three weeks since my last post. Don't worry, I'm not pulling a Mark Titus and quitting altogether. It's just been a little rough for a G lately. Fans are becoming giddy and harassing me on my Facebook wall. I'm being confronted at social gatherings. I feel like a mother bird who is tantalizing a nest full of baby chicks by dangling a worm an inch out of their reach. Actually, that analogy makes little to no sense, but I like the thought, so I'll keep it. I apologize to all my faithful followers who have been chomping at the bit to read my perspective of what's been going on in my life. It's been a crazy time of the year with finals, moving home, and going on a missions trip to Argentina. If you would like to read about that, I was doing some blogging at nwceagles.com. They're no Wetberg blogs! Don't get that twisted for a second, but they do give some insight to what we did for 11 days in 'Tina.
Now I'm sure many of you saw the title I put for this posting. If you go to Northwestern, you were appalled, and anyone else from River Falls or beyond got more excited than they should. NWC can take a chill pill, and everyone else can get their head out of the gutters.
Here's what's been happenin in Wetberg's World:
So now I'm back in good old RF and starting to get used to life in rural Western Wisconsin. I have the satisfaction of doing below average, but passing all my college classes this spring, so I can return to Northwestern and record a few more trillions for the Eagles. (Lord Willing). However, like my main man Walt, I live in the moment. The moment is summer and River Falls.
I've been back for about three days and I feel like I'm right back in stride. After spending the last nine months in the comfy twin cities, it has been nice to get down and dirty with life in RF. (Gutter Check). yeah...get out.
My first day back conveniently was the time that cleaning of the pig pens take place. I don't think anyone in their right mind should get excited for a task like this, but I was a little bit because I was getting that feeling of manhood that I got a taste of on Steak night (see previous post). If I were given 5 "man-cards" that could be lost or re-gained depending on the manliness of my decisions, I would be sitting at a Gentleman's 3. Usually I'm all about the triple, but not in this case. Let me illustrate a breakdown:
Day 1 of being back: 1 man card lost, 1 Man card regained.
During day one, I had to shovel fecal matter out of the pig pens. This should be a +1 right? Nothing like getting your hands dirty and doing some hard labor. So, I'll take a +1 for completing the task with no complaints. However, there was one time when I was shoveling some into the wheelbarrow, a chunk fell off and I jumped out of the way much harder than I should have. I was for some reason scared to get my 9th grade basketball shoes, that have been used for this task for two years, more dirty. Perhaps I thought some of it was going to bounce up and get on my skirt? Lord only knows. But I was and still am thoroughly embarrassed. I feel like a goose. So I broke even on the first day back. The next couple days were not so favorable.
Today especially, was a tough day. I lost two cards in one day. At this rate, I'm going to be visiting a different restroom by June. This afternoon, I decided to help my brother out and mow a couple of his lawns for him in town. They were two push-mowed lawns that took about an hour and a half between them. When I was finishing up the second lawn I wiped a little sweat off my head and prepared to gladly accept a man card along with a glass of lemonade. O for 2 on that one! When I looked at my hands, I had blisters on both thumbs from the mowers. I wouldn't say I am naturally the burliest of men, but I've only been in the cities for 9 months! I have gotten so soft! To make matters worse, I received a text after seeing my sissy hands asking me to do some babysitting! I guess when it rains, it pours. I'm dishing out cards left and right. (Anyone who knows me knows I'm not going to turn down a chance to make a quick 20 bucks!)
So here we sit at three man cards. How can I earn a couple back?! Who on T.V. is the most manliest? I'm in a huge slump, and need to get out sooner than later! Survivorman is pretty manly. Yeah, that's an understatement. He's a savage beast! Watch out bub. LW and EG are about to get our survivorman on!
The timing of this slump is a blessing in disguise because my best bud, Gilby, and I had intended on going on a canoe trip for a couple days and rough it all. We intend to sleep on sand bars and cook over a camp fire. (like real burly men). Gilby's ability to grow a red beard says enough about his manhood, so he's not trying replace and cards. I wish I could stay the same. I wish I could just be doing some general maintenance, but I'm trying to come out of a debt here. We'll be paddling upstream for a day and a half, then float back downstream and do some serious fishing. This may seem like a serious bromance, but I will call no homo, so everything is cool.
I look forward to hooking you all up with some stories of our adventure and maybe even a good fish story!
Until then,
Stay Wet! This is what's happenin in Wetberg's World!
-Wetberg (+3)
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Steak Night (Wish I had a Date Night)
As I eluded in my previous post, there was more to my Saturday than what you all got the privilege of reading about. It was truly a day of being a man and doing some things that guys do.
"Doing what guys do" is a phrase that only a select few guys in River Falls is familiar with. It came to be a popular phrase when my entire lunch table was invited to a birthday party by a member of the JV basketball team well in advance of it actually happening. Some of you may be thinking three weeks or a month. You're wrong. We were invited over six months in advance. The party was to be epic. When I asked what we'd be doing at this "party" the response was similar to, "Oh man, We're just gonna do what guys do. Ya know? We're gonna throw some meat on the grill and toss the ol' pigskin around!" The Birthday Boy to be (in over 6 months) was excited beyond words.
Unfortunately, I was unable to attend this party despite the advanced notice. In fact, I think everyone was unable to attend. My reason was legit though. Northwestern College was dragging me around on tours and talks like a collared dog for Orientation week. Would've I loved to be "throwin' some meat on the grill and tossin' the ol' pigskin around? Absolutely! Who wouldn't? But no, I was getting told that I would be experiencing many changes during the upcoming year. (No, this was not the puberty talk I received last year....oops! I mean when the time came that both my parents and I had to experience the awkwardness of that conversation.) The point is, I missed out on a golden opportunity to be a man.
This didn't sit well with me in the fall, as it shouldn't with any decent person who has the stones to call himself a man. (Walt is working on it and making great strides! Gold star bud!) How was I about to fix this? Well, being the innovator I am, I thought to myself, "Why not fix two issues in one night?" What is the second issue you may ask?
I have been known to be unreasonably stingy when dealing with my money. (So why did I end up dedicating my life to paying off debt by coming to a private school to pursue an education degree? Good Question. I'm going to credit my man G-O-D with that one.) Anyways, within a couple weeks of school my roommates and close friends could smell the stench of frugality coming from my every statement and action..."Half Price Appetizers? That's half price too much for this guy."
These actions that brought/bring me so much satisfaction, brought my close friends the opposite emotion. They were bound and determined to get me to "go big" before the end of the school year. I agreed through clenched teeth and put it off as long as I could. What I agreed to was to play a round of Golf in the afternoon (like real men) and to follow that with a fine steak dinner. Through a fair amount of compromising, I negotiated a deal where we could play 9 holes of golf at a city course that only set me back $10. The real killer was the steak dinner half though. Instead of going to a classy establishment such as Outback Steakhouse, we agreed to buy the finest steaks and grill them ourselves (like real men).
And it was done. The day came, and we were about to make it happen! It was a windy day on the golf course, so our scores didn't reflect our greatest scores. However, my partner in crime through this all (Geezy/GZ) said the dumbest thing in our previous outing that I had to rekindle multiple times. He said, "Eh, the wind doesn't really affect my shot."
Are you stroking me?! Unless you hit nothing but worm-burners, the ball is BOUND to be influenced by a brisk wind! Does he have some expensive ball that is immune to wind? If so, that's cool, but I have no interest of buying one due to my severe condition of stinginess. I always look for the balls that cost me nothing. (That's what she said.) But seriously, I have no shame in adding a ball to my stash that was recently hit blindly over a hill, where the poor golfer who hit it has no idea where it landed...hmm...gopher must've eaten it!
Anyways, after our golfing excursion, it was off to the local grocer to purchase the supplies for our big night. We agreed that the menu would consist of steak, potatoes, and dessert. There is no room on a man's plate for vegetables or anything resembling the color green. We also were planning on washing this all down with the finest O'Doules (fake beer). I thought non-alcoholic beer would be legit for our dry campus, but the half of a percent of alcohol wasn't about to fly at NWC, so we settled for a drink that is more encouraged by our faith-based community: grape juice.
Upon entering the store, I was experiencing some minor shaking and butterflies in my stomach as I knew this would be the biggest grocery bill I'd run up during the year. After quickly finding our potatoes, it was selection time. Which cut of steak was right for the night? Geezy naturally went with the most expensive he could find. A 17 oz Rib-eye (approx $12). I may consider this for the day I propose to my future wife, but not for steak night. I decided to treat myself to the finest 18 oz. round steak (the worst/cheapest money can buy). This set me back a whopping $3.56. I'm glad I saved all my loose change in a cup during the year. The steak dinner fund was a classic example of saving every penny and then kissing it goodbye for a short pleasure and lifetime of memories. Some people have found different ways to learn this lesson, but to each his own: I just "went big"!
We concluded our trip by buying our favorite kind of ice cream, Cookies and Cream as well as some cake and Hershey's shell topping. Yes, I did have every intention of finishing my freshman 15 in one night. Mission accomplished. I left the store with a bill that was closing in on $10. I felt my eyes swelling and throat closing, but managed to make the swipe and get on with the glorious night we had been waiting for like a below average looking, insecure teen girl waiting to be asked to the prom. (I think you get the picture)
Geezy strapped on his flipper in one hand and blackberry in the other as he grilled our steaks like he had done it a million times. Quick note: He was an amateur, as was I. Probably the most embarrassing moment of it all was that neither of us knew how to light a lighter to get these steaks cooking. We had to call on the closest high school freshman to do the honors.
Once everything was fixed up, we enjoyed each other's company as we sat directly across from each other(No homo), gazed into each other's eyes(no homo), and talked about how glad we were that we could make it all happen(NH). DJ Walter was spitting the finest classical music that youtube had to offer. It was certainly a night to remember, a night which my vice-grip on my wallet loosened, so I could invest in a steak with the consistency of a middle aged tree. No ranch or BBQ sauce could help me endure the five minutes i spent chewing each and every bite.
The night was a tremendous experience (No homo), and we agreed to make this an annual event(No homo). It was great to practice up with the hopes of one day sharing a night like that with a very special person of the opposite gender. So until that day, it will be called, "Steak Night" (Wish I had a Date Night).
So to all the young men who read this blog: don't be afraid to share a special night with a bro(no homo). You can call it a "bromance", "man-date", or even "guy love". (See following Scrubs clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Pamgat1Wro )(No homo.)
Just one quick disclaimer: You can never call "No Homo" too many times. No homo.
Until next time my friends, Stay wet!
God Bless,
-Wetberg
"Doing what guys do" is a phrase that only a select few guys in River Falls is familiar with. It came to be a popular phrase when my entire lunch table was invited to a birthday party by a member of the JV basketball team well in advance of it actually happening. Some of you may be thinking three weeks or a month. You're wrong. We were invited over six months in advance. The party was to be epic. When I asked what we'd be doing at this "party" the response was similar to, "Oh man, We're just gonna do what guys do. Ya know? We're gonna throw some meat on the grill and toss the ol' pigskin around!" The Birthday Boy to be (in over 6 months) was excited beyond words.
Unfortunately, I was unable to attend this party despite the advanced notice. In fact, I think everyone was unable to attend. My reason was legit though. Northwestern College was dragging me around on tours and talks like a collared dog for Orientation week. Would've I loved to be "throwin' some meat on the grill and tossin' the ol' pigskin around? Absolutely! Who wouldn't? But no, I was getting told that I would be experiencing many changes during the upcoming year. (No, this was not the puberty talk I received last year....oops! I mean when the time came that both my parents and I had to experience the awkwardness of that conversation.) The point is, I missed out on a golden opportunity to be a man.
This didn't sit well with me in the fall, as it shouldn't with any decent person who has the stones to call himself a man. (Walt is working on it and making great strides! Gold star bud!) How was I about to fix this? Well, being the innovator I am, I thought to myself, "Why not fix two issues in one night?" What is the second issue you may ask?
I have been known to be unreasonably stingy when dealing with my money. (So why did I end up dedicating my life to paying off debt by coming to a private school to pursue an education degree? Good Question. I'm going to credit my man G-O-D with that one.) Anyways, within a couple weeks of school my roommates and close friends could smell the stench of frugality coming from my every statement and action..."Half Price Appetizers? That's half price too much for this guy."
These actions that brought/bring me so much satisfaction, brought my close friends the opposite emotion. They were bound and determined to get me to "go big" before the end of the school year. I agreed through clenched teeth and put it off as long as I could. What I agreed to was to play a round of Golf in the afternoon (like real men) and to follow that with a fine steak dinner. Through a fair amount of compromising, I negotiated a deal where we could play 9 holes of golf at a city course that only set me back $10. The real killer was the steak dinner half though. Instead of going to a classy establishment such as Outback Steakhouse, we agreed to buy the finest steaks and grill them ourselves (like real men).
And it was done. The day came, and we were about to make it happen! It was a windy day on the golf course, so our scores didn't reflect our greatest scores. However, my partner in crime through this all (Geezy/GZ) said the dumbest thing in our previous outing that I had to rekindle multiple times. He said, "Eh, the wind doesn't really affect my shot."
Are you stroking me?! Unless you hit nothing but worm-burners, the ball is BOUND to be influenced by a brisk wind! Does he have some expensive ball that is immune to wind? If so, that's cool, but I have no interest of buying one due to my severe condition of stinginess. I always look for the balls that cost me nothing. (That's what she said.) But seriously, I have no shame in adding a ball to my stash that was recently hit blindly over a hill, where the poor golfer who hit it has no idea where it landed...hmm...gopher must've eaten it!
Anyways, after our golfing excursion, it was off to the local grocer to purchase the supplies for our big night. We agreed that the menu would consist of steak, potatoes, and dessert. There is no room on a man's plate for vegetables or anything resembling the color green. We also were planning on washing this all down with the finest O'Doules (fake beer). I thought non-alcoholic beer would be legit for our dry campus, but the half of a percent of alcohol wasn't about to fly at NWC, so we settled for a drink that is more encouraged by our faith-based community: grape juice.
Upon entering the store, I was experiencing some minor shaking and butterflies in my stomach as I knew this would be the biggest grocery bill I'd run up during the year. After quickly finding our potatoes, it was selection time. Which cut of steak was right for the night? Geezy naturally went with the most expensive he could find. A 17 oz Rib-eye (approx $12). I may consider this for the day I propose to my future wife, but not for steak night. I decided to treat myself to the finest 18 oz. round steak (the worst/cheapest money can buy). This set me back a whopping $3.56. I'm glad I saved all my loose change in a cup during the year. The steak dinner fund was a classic example of saving every penny and then kissing it goodbye for a short pleasure and lifetime of memories. Some people have found different ways to learn this lesson, but to each his own: I just "went big"!
We concluded our trip by buying our favorite kind of ice cream, Cookies and Cream as well as some cake and Hershey's shell topping. Yes, I did have every intention of finishing my freshman 15 in one night. Mission accomplished. I left the store with a bill that was closing in on $10. I felt my eyes swelling and throat closing, but managed to make the swipe and get on with the glorious night we had been waiting for like a below average looking, insecure teen girl waiting to be asked to the prom. (I think you get the picture)
Geezy strapped on his flipper in one hand and blackberry in the other as he grilled our steaks like he had done it a million times. Quick note: He was an amateur, as was I. Probably the most embarrassing moment of it all was that neither of us knew how to light a lighter to get these steaks cooking. We had to call on the closest high school freshman to do the honors.
Once everything was fixed up, we enjoyed each other's company as we sat directly across from each other(No homo), gazed into each other's eyes(no homo), and talked about how glad we were that we could make it all happen(NH). DJ Walter was spitting the finest classical music that youtube had to offer. It was certainly a night to remember, a night which my vice-grip on my wallet loosened, so I could invest in a steak with the consistency of a middle aged tree. No ranch or BBQ sauce could help me endure the five minutes i spent chewing each and every bite.
The night was a tremendous experience (No homo), and we agreed to make this an annual event(No homo). It was great to practice up with the hopes of one day sharing a night like that with a very special person of the opposite gender. So until that day, it will be called, "Steak Night" (Wish I had a Date Night).
So to all the young men who read this blog: don't be afraid to share a special night with a bro(no homo). You can call it a "bromance", "man-date", or even "guy love". (See following Scrubs clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Pamgat1Wro )(No homo.)
Just one quick disclaimer: You can never call "No Homo" too many times. No homo.
Until next time my friends, Stay wet!
God Bless,
-Wetberg
Saturday, May 1, 2010
WET= What Extra Teammates?
Ah...It feels good to be lounging in the living room in Moyer with thoughts of reflection, embarrassment, triumph, and satisfaction flowing through my head. It's been over a week since my last entry, and people are starting to get on my junk about throwing up a new one. You all make it seem like it'd be entertaining to hear about how I take a six and a half minute walk to my Foundations of Mathematics each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Or maybe the fact that I consistently waddle into my Calc II class in the middle of the professor's prayer to start class. (Christian School thing for those are confused right now)
As you can see, Wetberg's World has been a little dry lately...nothing overly exciting. I've been busy serving as the Public Address man for the college's baseball and softball teams. I would love to just tear into Crown College athletics and question their legitimacy as a collegiate program. (Due to the shortened games, I had to suffer through announcing two games in a row as they try to get these painful games done in one day by scheduling doubleheaders. In these games, our girls who are currently four games over .500 plaster North Central and Crown with scores of 10-0, 10-3, 22-0, and 12-3 respectively. This is painful to watch, announce, ump, and probably play for both teams. The outcome is always inevitable. One game, a team took a lead in the top of the 1st inning and the dugout makes requests for pictures to be taken of the scoreboard. Doing this is probably their only hope at fooling respectable recruits to come and play for them as they play "David vs. Goliath" in every single game.) However, out of respect to the student athletes, coaches, parents, fans, and institutions, I'll choose to discuss a different array of topics. My goal for this blog is to share my perspective of things happening in my life. It is not to demean or put down anyone. (Especially for their lack of ability to have more than 3 batters in the lineup hitting above .200)
Moving on...many of you read the title for this post and are curious to where I'm going with it. I am experiencing many of the same thoughts as my fingers dance away on my laptop keypad. Well here's a try:
Here's what's happenin in Wetberg's World:
Last time, I left my seven faithful followers on the edge of their seats with a hint that I might discuss some experiences in my next blog (this one). Yeah....I lied. I have no intention of talking about any of that garbage. Today, I've lived a day that's worth a full blog entry in itself.
As a student-athlete here at Northwestern, I choose to be more of a student during the week and an athlete on the weekends. So this morning I woke up early to hit up some Saturday morning open gym. This open gym was very typical for us. We had two recruits visiting and everyone staggered into the gym exactly at the time we agreed to meet. An hour and a half of 90% effort passes. This happened less than twelve hours ago, and I am failing to remember a single thing of the first 90% of today's open gym. Personally, it was close to being a waste of my Saturday morning. My name of Wetberg (that is slowly catching on, YES! Finally a legitimate nickname! Not Lance-the-Pants or Dumb Jew) was being used in phrases like "Hey it's okay Wetberg. Keep trying." "Sure you're shooting like a blind ra-tard, but it's cool. You'll find it." I felt ashamed that I had ever been called anything regarding the word WET. Going into the last game, I had given myself the new name of "Dry-berg". This followed with "Ice-berg". The point is, My J was trash. This was so disheartening because without my jumper, I become 6'4" and 205 pounds of wasted space on the court.
As we decided to enter our last game, I decided it was time to turn it on. What does the name WETberg mean to me? How bad did I want my name back? I wanted it back like Travie McCoy wants to be a billionaire: So Frickin Bad! So the game began, and I was being defended by a tired Walt. Now, my philosophy on when to shoot the ball is as follows: "Miss until you make, and then make until you miss". In other words, Don't not shoot. So the first possession down the floor, I cast up a three, and by some miracle, it goes in. This happens the next time down the court as well as the next. During this process, I evolved from Dry-berg to moist-berg to Wetberg once again. This wetness I had re-attained was like crack to me. I was addicted. Little did I know, I proceeded to shoot every shot for our team in the pick-up game. Our team ended up losing 21-18, mostly because of my transformation from the Sahara Desert into a full-fledged black hole. That being said, a formal apology needs to be issued to my team I was playing with.
To Reep, Ross, Josh the recruit, and one other person (I forget because they failed to attempt any shots) (Oops! Sorry) :
My fellow teammates, I would like to take this moment to apologize for my selfish play in today's final game at Open Gym. My open gym etiquette in that game was both unspeakable and unforgivable. I broke one of the cardinal unwritten rules of open gym, "Don't be THAT guy". I was him. I'm not proud of it. Did I score 16 of our 18 points? Yes. Did I make over half my shots? Yes. However, knowing that my "teammates" wasted energy running up and down the floor each time only to watch me cast up another prayer of a shot. This my friends, breaks my heart. In high school, I was awarded "Mr. Assist" at our senior banquet. This morning, I earned "Biggest Ego" and "Fastest trigger" and "Ball-Hog Grand Champion" and "Mr. Never-pass-on-an-open-look" and "Closest resemblance to an AK-47" and "Mr. Black Hole". The list of awards goes on and on...but to continue with my apology I would like to say that my performance was an embarrassment to myself,my family, my team, the wet quartet, Northwestern College, the NCCAA, John Stockton, and every person who has ever seen the movie Hosiers and understood the 5 pass per possession offensive strategy. I ask for forgiveness and for my old role as towel waver. I'd also like to have the opportunity to feel free to shoot a couple times per game, but vow to never again shoot more than 90% of my team's shots. (Thank you Ross for driving an making a lay-up for our 12th and 13th point. This saves me the embarrassment of saying I shot every single shot!)
Today, I shared the ball like an only child shares his xbox and games....he doesn't. You have to wait until he's out of town for the weekend to log a few hours of NCAA football, where Ironically i enjoy playing the quarterback and passing on EVERY play. Thanks Lib. Hope you had a fun weekend bro. Living alone for one night turned me into an animal, a savage beast. Come home. I miss you. No homo.
Now that I'm back and have gathered myself from that emotional outburst back there, I'm ready to conclude this blog entry. (I'm Sorry you all had to see that side of me). This entry is becoming long in a hurry, so I need to cut it off here. I regret the fact that I haven't been able to share the redeeming half of my day, but to that I say, "Another day, Another Dollar". Stay tuned for my next entry which will be up soon highlighting a special night with a special someone in great detail.
Is it possible to highlight something in great detail? I'll let you be the judge....a-a-and I'm the case.
So on that note, I'm out for the night. I hope I momentarily quenched your thirst for What's Happenin' in Wetberg's World.
Stay wet my friends, and don't be THAT guy at open gym that I decided to be.
Peace n Blessing ya'll,
Wetberg
P.S. Enjoy these Jim Rome Rants. Possibility for an "Open Gym Guy"?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMfqbR8Ujlk&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MfjwTtxdmac
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8LeZmHhPxuI&feature=related
As you can see, Wetberg's World has been a little dry lately...nothing overly exciting. I've been busy serving as the Public Address man for the college's baseball and softball teams. I would love to just tear into Crown College athletics and question their legitimacy as a collegiate program. (Due to the shortened games, I had to suffer through announcing two games in a row as they try to get these painful games done in one day by scheduling doubleheaders. In these games, our girls who are currently four games over .500 plaster North Central and Crown with scores of 10-0, 10-3, 22-0, and 12-3 respectively. This is painful to watch, announce, ump, and probably play for both teams. The outcome is always inevitable. One game, a team took a lead in the top of the 1st inning and the dugout makes requests for pictures to be taken of the scoreboard. Doing this is probably their only hope at fooling respectable recruits to come and play for them as they play "David vs. Goliath" in every single game.) However, out of respect to the student athletes, coaches, parents, fans, and institutions, I'll choose to discuss a different array of topics. My goal for this blog is to share my perspective of things happening in my life. It is not to demean or put down anyone. (Especially for their lack of ability to have more than 3 batters in the lineup hitting above .200)
Moving on...many of you read the title for this post and are curious to where I'm going with it. I am experiencing many of the same thoughts as my fingers dance away on my laptop keypad. Well here's a try:
Here's what's happenin in Wetberg's World:
Last time, I left my seven faithful followers on the edge of their seats with a hint that I might discuss some experiences in my next blog (this one). Yeah....I lied. I have no intention of talking about any of that garbage. Today, I've lived a day that's worth a full blog entry in itself.
As a student-athlete here at Northwestern, I choose to be more of a student during the week and an athlete on the weekends. So this morning I woke up early to hit up some Saturday morning open gym. This open gym was very typical for us. We had two recruits visiting and everyone staggered into the gym exactly at the time we agreed to meet. An hour and a half of 90% effort passes. This happened less than twelve hours ago, and I am failing to remember a single thing of the first 90% of today's open gym. Personally, it was close to being a waste of my Saturday morning. My name of Wetberg (that is slowly catching on, YES! Finally a legitimate nickname! Not Lance-the-Pants or Dumb Jew) was being used in phrases like "Hey it's okay Wetberg. Keep trying." "Sure you're shooting like a blind ra-tard, but it's cool. You'll find it." I felt ashamed that I had ever been called anything regarding the word WET. Going into the last game, I had given myself the new name of "Dry-berg". This followed with "Ice-berg". The point is, My J was trash. This was so disheartening because without my jumper, I become 6'4" and 205 pounds of wasted space on the court.
As we decided to enter our last game, I decided it was time to turn it on. What does the name WETberg mean to me? How bad did I want my name back? I wanted it back like Travie McCoy wants to be a billionaire: So Frickin Bad! So the game began, and I was being defended by a tired Walt. Now, my philosophy on when to shoot the ball is as follows: "Miss until you make, and then make until you miss". In other words, Don't not shoot. So the first possession down the floor, I cast up a three, and by some miracle, it goes in. This happens the next time down the court as well as the next. During this process, I evolved from Dry-berg to moist-berg to Wetberg once again. This wetness I had re-attained was like crack to me. I was addicted. Little did I know, I proceeded to shoot every shot for our team in the pick-up game. Our team ended up losing 21-18, mostly because of my transformation from the Sahara Desert into a full-fledged black hole. That being said, a formal apology needs to be issued to my team I was playing with.
To Reep, Ross, Josh the recruit, and one other person (I forget because they failed to attempt any shots) (Oops! Sorry) :
My fellow teammates, I would like to take this moment to apologize for my selfish play in today's final game at Open Gym. My open gym etiquette in that game was both unspeakable and unforgivable. I broke one of the cardinal unwritten rules of open gym, "Don't be THAT guy". I was him. I'm not proud of it. Did I score 16 of our 18 points? Yes. Did I make over half my shots? Yes. However, knowing that my "teammates" wasted energy running up and down the floor each time only to watch me cast up another prayer of a shot. This my friends, breaks my heart. In high school, I was awarded "Mr. Assist" at our senior banquet. This morning, I earned "Biggest Ego" and "Fastest trigger" and "Ball-Hog Grand Champion" and "Mr. Never-pass-on-an-open-look" and "Closest resemblance to an AK-47" and "Mr. Black Hole". The list of awards goes on and on...but to continue with my apology I would like to say that my performance was an embarrassment to myself,my family, my team, the wet quartet, Northwestern College, the NCCAA, John Stockton, and every person who has ever seen the movie Hosiers and understood the 5 pass per possession offensive strategy. I ask for forgiveness and for my old role as towel waver. I'd also like to have the opportunity to feel free to shoot a couple times per game, but vow to never again shoot more than 90% of my team's shots. (Thank you Ross for driving an making a lay-up for our 12th and 13th point. This saves me the embarrassment of saying I shot every single shot!)
Today, I shared the ball like an only child shares his xbox and games....he doesn't. You have to wait until he's out of town for the weekend to log a few hours of NCAA football, where Ironically i enjoy playing the quarterback and passing on EVERY play. Thanks Lib. Hope you had a fun weekend bro. Living alone for one night turned me into an animal, a savage beast. Come home. I miss you. No homo.
Now that I'm back and have gathered myself from that emotional outburst back there, I'm ready to conclude this blog entry. (I'm Sorry you all had to see that side of me). This entry is becoming long in a hurry, so I need to cut it off here. I regret the fact that I haven't been able to share the redeeming half of my day, but to that I say, "Another day, Another Dollar". Stay tuned for my next entry which will be up soon highlighting a special night with a special someone in great detail.
Is it possible to highlight something in great detail? I'll let you be the judge....a-a-and I'm the case.
So on that note, I'm out for the night. I hope I momentarily quenched your thirst for What's Happenin' in Wetberg's World.
Stay wet my friends, and don't be THAT guy at open gym that I decided to be.
Peace n Blessing ya'll,
Wetberg
P.S. Enjoy these Jim Rome Rants. Possibility for an "Open Gym Guy"?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMfqbR8Ujlk&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MfjwTtxdmac
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8LeZmHhPxuI&feature=related
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