Oh What A Night!

I bet that blog title made you think I was already a dad, didn't it? Not just yet, but soon, very soon. In fact, the doc says that if little man doesn't make his Shawshank style escape by Tuesday, then we are going to induce labor and bust his ass outta womb jail. So, at the very latest I should completely cease all sleeping by Wednesday, February 24th. I'm living on borrowed time and savoring every second of it.

I would now like to personally thank the little dude for deciding to delay his groundhog day act for at least one more day, thus providing me with one of my greatest nights of sports ever. Against the backdrop of the Winter Olympics my beloved Manchester United able to travel to hostile lands (Italy - sweaty, tight pants, terrible hair) and defeat the mighty David Beckham's hair...

In truly spectacular fashion my child's predetermined sports idol, Wayne Rooney, was able to carry the mighty Red Devils to victory over their swarthy Italian foes, AC Milan. I still don't understand why everyone scoffs at me when I suggest Rooney as a perfectly adorable middle name for the boy. I mean, who wouldn't want to name their first born son after a prematurely balding, squatty, ill tempered little English footballer?

And to cap off my night of non-hospital couch sleeping, I ended up playing my scrawny little ass off (some might describe it as an extended lower back) in my racquetball playoffs and miraculously came back from a 9-1 deficit in the final game to win the championship 11-10. Surely, defeating a variety of middle age men at your local gym might not register high your personal achievementometer, but for me it was huge because I don't think I have ever won anything sports wise on an individual level, besides sportsmanship trophies in coed boys & girls club basketball at age 10, which loosely translated to, "'Kid can't make a layup to save his life, but at least he shakes everyone's hand at the end of the game". Anyway, after I won I was pretty euphoric, partially because the whole time I was playing I was thinking I don't know when I will be able do this again and I wanted to have a good story for the boy in case he was born last night. He obviously wasn't born, but at least now I will have a totally sweet Racquetball Champion t-shirt he can look at, but never touch. Only champions can wear that kind of shirt. Of course, he'll probably end up whizzing on it (while I'm wearing it) inside of 6 months.