Swing Your Sword

During his time at Texas Tech, I really grew to love Mike Leach and his "Air Raid" offense. Having grown accustomed to Ohio State eking out cardiac-arresting wins with its conservative Tresselball offense, Texas Tech's aggressive spread attack was quite the antithesis. And as college football offenses evolved in more creative, wide-open ways in the mid-2000s, I only grew to appreciate it more.

I've always been envious that Ohio State hasn't had an offensively minded coach like Leach who could strategically create mismatches and make teams pay. Too many times throughout Tressel's tenure, OSU either lost close, winnable games, or won games that shouldn't have been so tight by allowing lesser teams to hang around. Either way, the conservative approach has handicapped Ohio State for years, with the players having to rely on their athletic ability to compensate for the poor position the coaches put them in. With an offensive philosophy like Leach's, there would have been higher scores, more wins, and much fewer palpitations.

Leach has had success everywhere he's coached. The before-and-after statistics at Iowa Wesleyan, Valdosta State, Kentucky, Oklahoma, and Texas Tech are dramatic. He's developed ordinary players into stars, whether it's once walk-on Wes Welker or quarterbacks Josh Heupel and Tim Couch, both Heisman Trophy finalists. And even though his oddly named quarterbacks at Texas Tech have earned reputations as system QBs, you can't ignore their success, throwing anywhere from 3,000 to over 6,000 yards a season. If those are system QBs, those are QBs I want in my system.

Leach's recently published biography, Swing Your Sword: Leading the Charge in Football and Life, gives great insight into his coaching philosophies. I've never played organized football, but if I coached it, the armchair quarterback in me would adopt many of them. What follows are the excerpts from Leach's book that I identified with the most.

A Balanced Offense

To me, a balanced offense is one where each skill position touches the ball, and every position contributes to the offensive output. There is nothing balanced about running it 50% of the time and throwing it 50% of the time if you are only utilizing two or three offensive skill positions and only attacking part of the field. A good offense has the ability to attack as much of the field as possible with as many people as possible. You want to put as much pressure on the defense as you can while utilizing all of the space and personnel that you have.

Attacking the Field

I'd always been surprised at how little most teams threw the ball and how even fewer offenses seemed committed to attacking the entire field. We did a lot of things that most other teams on our schedule wouldn't dream of trying. We ran a no-huddle offense. We believed if you gave the defense less time in between plays to get refocused, they'd get frazzled. Plus, the pace would tire them out faster. The no-huddle would drain them as much mentally as it would physically.

The other programs we faced had their offensive linemen wedged together, shoulder to shoulder. We wanted our guys to have wider splits with a three-foot gap between each man. It was an approach we'd seen BYU use successfully. If that was working, we'd widen out the gaps even more. Most people assumed those gaps left your quarterback more vulnerable. For us, it actually did the opposite. It forced the defensive line to stretch so that their defensive ends, who are their best pass rushers, would begin the play even further away from our QB than normal. The wider splits created running lanes and throwing lanes, reducing that glut of traffic you typically have in the middle of the line of scrimmage. And it made it harder for the defense to run stunts that would have otherwise lured our offensive linemen into picking up the wrong man once the ball was snapped.

We were changing the geometry of the game.

We didn't approach the offense with some bunker mentality, "Oh, they're doing this, we have to protect ourselves!" Instead, it was about how we could best attack them: "OK, they're blitzing from our left side. Good, good. Then let's throw a slant right behind it."

We knew that would give our team the flexibility to attack instantly. There's a blitzkrieg quality to it.

Going for It

About 10 years into my coaching career, I was the offensive coordinator for the University of Kentucky. We'd go for it on fourth down about 40 times a year. That's nearly double the amount of everyone else in the SEC. Statistically, the times we picked up that first down led to touchdowns between two and three times more often than our opponent's touchdown rate if they took the ball over on downs.

The aggressive attitude that you're stroking within your players is key, especially if you're coaching at a program where most of the recruits have repeatedly heard how they're not as talented as their opponents. When we're going for it, we're making a statement: You have to stop us. The team philosophy becomes, "We're going for it." The guys take a lot of pride in that spirit. They also know that if they're unsuccessful too many times, you're not going to keep giving them the chance. Almost every player wants to go for it. They don't want the privilege taken away from them. In their minds, they know that if they don't make it, they're responsible. They're determined to find a way to make it work.

Certainly any decision needs to be evaluated, but just because "conventional wisdom" suggests something is too risky doesn't make it so. You think it through, and if you believe the benefit outweighs the risk, then you need to do it.

Running Up the Score

I've been accused a time or two of running up the score. People say "Well, the game's already been decided. Just kneel on the ball and call it a day." Screw that. I don't want the guys I send into the game thinking that way. Next year those third-team guys might be my starters. Heck, if we have an injury or two, they might become our starters next week. Running a team is an ongoing process. Even if it's the last game of the year, you still have another one next season. Regardless of the score, you've spent a long time teaching technique and lifting weights, and if there's some number-three left guard in the game out there yucking it up, I will rip him.

This last one I especially like from a player's perspective. Because after all the blood, sweat and tears a team puts in year-round, they only get to play a dozen games or so. So if you're winning by a large margin, why not give those third-stringers some snaps? If you're getting blown out, why not run your two-minute drill, cut the deficit down a bit with a late TD, and end on an up note? Game time should never be taken for granted. Win or lose, finish it out.

Never Give Up
All of these philosophies led Leach to some great victories. I'll never forget checking the score of the 2006 Insight Bowl, in which Minnesota was crushing Texas Tech 35-7 at halftime. But Leach lit a fire under his team in the locker room and the Red Raiders rallied in the second half en route to the biggest comeback in NCAA Division 1 bowl history. The final score: Texas Tech 44, Minnesota 41 (overtime).

And don't forget one of the best atmospheres and endings to a college football game ever, as Texas Teach upset No. 1 Texas on a last-second play in 2008.

Crime Without Punishment
It wasn't until I read Leach's book that I realized how much Texas Tech screwed him out of a job, despite all the success he brought them. The appendix at the end even has all of the e-mails between university officials and third parties who conspired to oust Leach for allegedly mistreating player Adam James, even though James later confessed that he wasn't mistreated. In fact, he found the whole situation kind of funny. What's more, there are damning depositions that debunk what the media has reported while exposing the smear campaign from a PR agency hired by father Craig James.

Most people were happy to see James leave his college football post at ESPN to run as a Texas senator. Politics couldn't have been a more befitting choice.

Leach has proved his innocence in court, but has not been able to win a settlement due to a clause in his contract that prevents him from successfully suing Tech. How convenient.

Moving On


Leach enjoyed a two-year break from coaching, living in Key West and having a radio show with CBS. But being out of the game left him unfulfilled, and with the coaching carousel spinning wildly toward the end of this past season, it was only a matter of time before he returned to his love.

In November he took the head coaching job at cellar dweller Washington State. While I think he'll be a good fit there, I was hoping he'd land at a more prominent program. But SI.com writer Stewart Mandel explains why he thinks the two were a good match:

The Cougars just scored their biggest win in years... Just as he did more than a decade ago at Texas Tech, Leach will give fans a reason to pay attention to Washington State football. He will produce high-scoring offenses and 5,000-yard passers, put fans in the stands, keep reporters busy, and, if history repeats itself, graduate players, reversing a problem that helped sink the Cougars several years back.

He's not going to fit at a place where the fans and media demand a more polished, traditional coach. That's why he's a perfect fit in Pullman. The coach that led the Cougars to two Rose Bowls (in 1997 and 2003) was a certifiable oddball (and that was before his infamous strip-club visit at Alabama). It worked out just fine. While no coach operates in anonymity anymore in the age of YouTube and Twitter, there aren't a zillion reporters and cameras camped out at Washington State news conferences. Leach will be free to be himself.

And he'll win... For the first time in eight years, fans beyond the West Coast will tune in to Cougars games. When they do, they'll probably see a revved-up crowd (start stocking up on pirate gear, school bookstore) enjoying another 48-45 shootout. If any of those viewers happen to be fans themselves of struggling midlevel programs, they'll probably ask themselves: Why didn't our athletic director hire him first?

Wazzu a Pac-12/Rose Bowl contender? With Leach at the helm, it's entirely possible. And it all starts with helping the Cougars find their inner pirate.

The Emerald Isle

It's been over four months since I got married, so I figure it's about time I write something about the honeymoon.

We chose Ireland because of our Irish roots, and at least in my mind, because it wasn't where everyone else goes on their honeymoon. On advice from an NYC friend who has Irish citizenship, the plan was to fly in to Dublin and drive a rental car along the west coast, then down south, and eventually back to Dublin.

That was the plan, anyway. Let's just say that our honeymoon didn't get off to the best start. Because our flight from Green Bay to Chicago was delayed, we ended up missing our connecting flights, the last of which was to Dublin. So, option 1 was to rough it overnight in the Toronto airport, take an evening flight to Dublin the next day, and lose a day in Ireland. Option 2 involved taking a red eye into London that night and connecting to Belfast earlier the next day, which would be our new final destination. After being assured that Belfast, being in Northern Ireland, was indeed safe these days, we chose the second option because it would keep us on schedule, even though it meant a longer drive to our first hotel in Galway.

At this point, we were already without our checked luggage because we changed our connecting flight to Toronto, which was on a different airline. To make a long story short about my dogged pursuit of our luggage over the telephone with BMI Airlines for the good part of our honeymoon: Erin received her suitcase about four days later, when we were in Ennis.



Shocked and upset that my suitcase was somehow separated from hers, I ended up receiving mine five days later, which was a mere two days before we returned to the states. Moreover, it seemed that the only reason my luggage turned up was because of my initiative. In any case, I've already written a long letter to BMI and received compensation. At the time, I was just glad my belongings weren't lost forever. But if you notice me wearing the same clothing in most of our honeymoon pics, now you know why.



More challenges awaited us after arriving in Belfast: serious jet lag and inexperience with driving on the left side of the road. Suffice it to say that it's a lot harder than it sounds. Driving in the states is just one of those automatic things you do without thinking too much about it. But in Ireland, having your driving orientation reversed affects you more than you'd think (a left turn is a right turn, and vice versa) and makes it difficult to judge your car's position on the passenger (now left) side. Erin was always on edge because she thought I was about to drive off the road. But it wasn't easy! Especially when you throw in narrow streets, poor visibility, a million roundabouts, and the fact that nothing is familiar. It was a challenge, especially when you're ready to pass out and the shining sun makes your eyelids even heavier.



The good news is that by the end of our trip, the accident count held at 0, though there were some close brushes. All I can say, it was a relief to return to normal, "mindless" driving in the states on the right side of the road. The right side is the right side, the right side is the right side, the right side is the right side....

Here are the first of many pints of Guinness we consumed...



Our tense, arduous 3½-hour drive from Belfast finally ended when we reached Galway around 10 p.m. on Monday, August 8th. We checked in and then headed down to the hotel bar for a late dinner. Almost immediately, two girls at the bar struck up a conversation with me. They were excited to meet an American, especially one with the last name Devine. "Devine?! We know Devines!" one exclaimed. (Her name was Linda.) She and her friend Michelle were from Roscommon, a small town about an hour's drive northeast. In a rapid display of Irish hospitality, they urged us to have dinner at their place the following evening. They said they'd even take us to a local bar formerly called "Devine's", which was one of the goals on my trip. But while we didn't discount their kindness, we knew it was the alcohol talking, and figured they'd regret their invitation whenever the buzz wore off. So we politely declined.



That night, Erin and I slept 14 hours, well into Tuesday. When we finally awoke, Erin was hellbent on updating our Facebook statuses to "Married", no matter how stubborn and horribly unresponsive the faulty hotel-room "computers" were.



A few nights later, we enjoyed a fun medieval dinner party at Bunratty Castle, where we met Veronica and Alessandro, a nice Italian couple.



Oh, and check out what I think is a ghostly orb in this picture I took outside the castle, and perhaps my first encounter with the spirit world. At first I thought it might be because of something on the lens, but the picture I snapped right after that had no anomalies in it. So it makes me wonder....



When we returned to our hotel bar in Ennis later that evening, we ran into Rochelle, an Ohio native and fellow Buckeye fan. They're everywhere, I tell ya.



Maybe my favorite part of the trip was our drive through the mountains in Kenmare and Killarney en route to Sheen Falls Lodge. It looked like we were in Hawaii, and it was hard to keep my eyes on the road as we wound our way up the mountainside. This was one of the fewer days where the sun was out. I didn't realize that most of the time in Ireland, it rains.



Our five-star hotel was memorable for a few reasons. Erin loved the rose petals strewn on our bed. We went horseback riding in the pretty Killarney countryside. And on Saturday night, we met the real-life Chatty Man in Irishman Pat Hurley. He and his friends had gathered around the piano and were singing all kinds of popular songs. They started talking to Erin and before we knew it, I was up talking with Pat and his wife till 6:30 in the morning.



I hate to admit it, but while I enjoyed all the Irish food we ate over there, I did cave in for some American staples a few times. The first was when I made a run to McDonald's in Cork. And the second was when we wolfed down a hot, fresh Papa John's pizza on our last night in Dublin.



One of the best stops on our trip was the Guinness Factory. It's big, educational, and fun to tour. Plus you get free beer. But after being in Ireland even just a few days and seeing how ingrained Guinness is in the culture, you have to wonder what kind of identity Ireland would have without it.



My international travel experience is limited, but having been to Europe once before, going to Ireland immediately reminded me how eye-opening it is to see how different countries do things. Here are my observations:

• Every single bar in the country has Guinness on tap. And most bars feature the same array of taps.
  
• Bed and breakfasts are just as ubiquitous as Guinness.
  
• Everyone says "cheers" and "thanks a million."
  
• Irish people don't pronounce their "th"s. So, phonetically, "Thanks a million" becomes "Tanks a million." And "Is that your third drink?" becomes "Is that your turd drink?" It sounds uneducated at first, but endearing thereafter.
  
• Most streetlights and signs aren't above the street—they're to the side. Not always intuitive or helpful.
  
• On an Irish keyboard, the @ character trades places with the " character. That threw me a few times.
  
• "Tires" is spelled "Tyres".
  
• There is no placing an order "to go" or "for carryout"—in Ireland it's "take away".
  
• Public bathrooms aren't labeled as "bathrooms"—they're "toilets". Some of the hotel toilets had two buttons that both seemed to flush, but in different ways. It was nowhere near as unconventional as using the three seashells, but it was a little unclear.
  
• The hotels wisely conserve energy by requiring your keycard to be inserted into a slot to power the lights in your room. Also, there were no clocks in the rooms (kind of like being in a casino).
  
• Ireland runs mostly on military time, and instead of saying "8:30", they say usually say "half 8", which requires a little translation.

You can see videos and more pictures of our honeymoon here. And yes, I feel like I should submit the one I took below to a stock photography website.

Warm Feet

Photo by Ardent Photography.

I have a confession to make: For most of my life, I was afraid to get married.

Actually, it wasn't really marriage that scared me—it was the wedding itself. For years I'd built up the possibility of my own wedding as the biggest event in my life. There were all kinds of things to worry about—the hundreds of people watching me; pressure to not screw up or say the wrong thing; dancing.

My fear was rooted in being the center of attention, a place I've always shied away from. And if there was ever a time when all eyes would be on me, this was it. But being single for the better part of my life allowed me to put these worries on the back burner. We'd just cross that bridge when we got there.

That's why it's amazing for me to sit here and say that not only have I crossed that bridge, but I had a great time doing it. My wedding was a blast, and in the months leading up to it, I expected it to be.

So what changed?

The fear of the unknown was gone. For the longest time, I had no idea who I was going to marry. But once it became clear, there wasn't so much to worry about.

What also helped me was going second—my brother Chris walked down the aisle last October, so we'd just had a family wedding in the bag.

At his rehearsal dinner, my dad said something that affected me. He stood up to thank everyone for coming, and he closed by reminding everyone to let loose and have fun, for this was a party. It was that simple, but I think the notion had escaped me because I was focused more on my role in the wedding party as one of the best men, a first for me.

But he was right—this was a party, and what better way to celebrate than with people we know and love? And it was exactly that concept that made me feel comfortable while looking forward to my wedding.

Having our wedding in Wisconsin was key. I liked that it was on Erin's turf for a few reasons. For one, I knew it would be a little cooler up north in August than most places. Moreover, there was intrigue in having it in the North Country, a place that nobody on my side had really ventured to. August 6th, 2011 in Wisconsin felt right. Plus, we made sure the date didn't interfere with football season, so we were guaranteed a good turnout from at least her side of the family. (Remember, this is Packerland we're talking about.)

It wasn't until we met with the key wedding coordinators in April that I started to get excited about the celebration, because it all became a lot easier to envision. Everything was conveniently located at Fox Hills Resort, a place with a golf course that was both nice and comfortable. Our photographer was dynamite. The priest was a super-warm guy with a booming voice and a thick Wisconsin accent. We booked an Irish band for the ceremony, and they agreed to play my favorite musical piece from Lost. For our reception, we got the DJ to play entrance music from Tron: Legacy and Kill Bill. And they would bring in one of my favorite beers, Smithwick's, for the reception. Erin did the majority of the wedding planning, but it felt good to make some of the celebration my own.

The life-changing appointment didn't start to feel real to me until the last month or so leading up to the wedding. You just spend so much time planning it that you forget it's actually going to happen. In the days before, a lot of people asked me if I was nervous. I wasn't—I was just looking forward to finally having the experience that we'd been edging closer to for the better part of a year. And so when it finally happened, I really just tried to enjoy the process—the rehearsal dinner, the ceremony, the pictures—because as everyone knows, it all flies by fast.



There were two immediate changes I noticed that marriage brought. The first was getting used to calling Erin my wife instead of my fiancée. I still call her "Girlfriend", though—"wife" makes her sound old!

The second was wearing a ring. As a guy who doesn't even like the feel of a watch or necklace on my skin, it was oddly surreal waking up the next morning to see this silver foreign object on my finger, and what it signified. Powerful stuff.

***

As a postscript, I wanted to include the song list that I painstakingly assembled for our rehearsal dinner. I know I spent way too much time on it, but hey, music is a huge part of my life. After countless hours of combing through hundreds of CDs and thousands of mp3s, I'd be remiss if I didn't give a nod to my efforts here.

Disc 1

1. Foreigner - Feels Like The First Time [link]
   
2. George Harrison - What Is Life [link]
   
3. Rod Stewart - Day After Day [link]
   
4. Eddie Money - Two Tickets To Paradise [link]
   
5. Ingram Hill - Solsbury Hill [link]
   
6. Heart - Straight On [link]
   
7. Bob Seger - Night Moves [link]
   
8. Dire Straits - Walk Of Life [Live] [link]
   
9. Blue Öyster Cult - In Thee [link]
   
10. Blue Rodeo - Hasn't Hit Me Yet [link]
    
11. David Byrne & Brian Eno - Life Is Long [link]
    
12. Brett Walker - Everything I Want To Do [link]
    
13. Jars Of Clay - Show You Love [link]
    
14. Coldplay - Lovers In Japan [link]
    
15. Steve Winwood - Back In The High Life Again [link]
    
16. The Elms - Come To Me [link]
    
17. Train - I Wish You Would [link]
    
18. The Traveling Wilburys - Handle With Care [link]
    
19. The National - So Far Around The Bend [link]

Disc 2

1. Coldplay - Life In Technicolor ii [link]
   
2. John Mellencamp - I Need A Lover [link]
   
3. Barenaked Ladies - Falling For The First Time [link]
   
4. The Corrs - Toss The Feathers [link]
   
5. Chris Isaak - Cool Love [link]
   
6. Ray LaMontagne - Hold You In My Arms [link]
   
7. Feel - Under The Radar [link]
   
8. Guster - Ramona [link]
   
9. Jewel - Two Become One [Country Version] [link]
   
10. Jimmy Buffett - Brown Eyed Girl [link]
    
11. John Lennon - Stand By Me [link]
    
12. The Monkees - I'm A Believer [link]
    
13. Mick Jagger - Joy [link]
    
14. Ray LaMontagne - Three More Days [link]
    
15. David Gray - Real Love [link]
    
16. Cyndi Lauper & Sarah McLachlan - Time After Time [link]
    
17. The Verve - One Day [link]
    
18. Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers - Angel Dream No. 4 [link]
    
19. Wilco - You And I [link]
    
20. Elton John - Look Ma, No Hands [link]

Disc 3

1. The BoDeans - Good Things [link]
   
2. The Rolling Stones - Love Is Strong [link]
   
3. Roy Orbison - You Got It [link]
   
4. Jimmy Page & Robert Plant - Thank You [Unledded] [link]
   
5. Counting Crows - Sullivan Street [Live] [link]
   
6. The Corrs - Joy Of Life/Trout In The Bath [Live] [link]
   
7. Five For Fighting - Something About You [link]
   
8. Tonic - Waltz With Me [link]
   
9. Fleetwood Mac - Bleed To Love Her [Live] [link]
   
10. Peter Frampton - Something's Happening [link]
    
11. Howie Day - Undressed [link]
    
12. The Lemonheads - Into Your Arms [link]
    
13. Tom Petty - You And Me [link]
    
14. R.E.M. - Strange Currencies [link]
    
15. Tonic - Jump Jimmy (Stronger Than Mine) [link]
    
16. John Mellencamp - Lonely Ol' Night [link]
    
17. Crowded House - Something So Strong [link]
    
18. The Beach Boys - God Only Knows [link]
    
19. Tom Petty - House In The Woods [link]
    
20. Elton John - Someone Saved My Life Tonight [link]

The One

Well, somehow I got married last month.

I say that not because I didn't know it was coming for a year prior—indeed, it was hardly a shotgun wedding or an elopement in Vegas. I say it simply because after 31½ years of being single, it's strange to think that it actually happened.

During my college days in Oxford, Ohio, I spent more Saturday nights in my dorm room than I care to recall. I remember being confused as I walked around campus seeing how many guys had girlfriends. It seemed so easy for them, but impossible for me. It was harder because I wasn't as social back then, but it was still frustrating because I knew I had a lot to offer a girl. It was sort of like a job search that wasn't going well—I was more than qualified, but no woman was hiring.

Fast-forward a few years later to my post-college life in Nashville. I was still girlfriend-less in life, and at this point it was starting to feel like a curse. I often wondered if something was wrong with me. Suffice it to say that I had a girlfriend complex. But then I finally learned why it was so hard for someone like me: my personality type.

According to the Myers-Briggs personality test, most INFPs (Introverted-Intuitive-Feeling-Perceiving) are very selective when it comes to choosing their partners, and tend to only pursue long-lasting relationships. The test revealed many more truths about all facets of my life that were eerily right on the money, but that was the gist of it as far as relationships go. For anyone who's never taken the assessment, it honestly feels like someone's been spying on you as you read about your type because the test seems to know everything about what makes you tick. For anyone looking to gain knowledge and self-awareness far beyond relationships, this test is essential because it can be life-changing. It was for me.

Jump ahead to early 2009 in New York City. Erin had just started working at TheLadders a few months earlier, and we'd been talking more and more at the office. There was an automatic connection there because we were both from the Midwest, something that was uncommon at TheLadders, even though there was a fair amount of Midwesterners in NYC. We were also tall, which is uncommon to the East Coast. But more than anything, there was a natural chemistry that made for a comfortable, easy courtship. So much so that within a few months of dating, I knew I was in love with her, and that she was the one.

After all the years of sensing that the girl for me was out there somewhere, but not knowing if I'd ever find her, suddenly there she was—amid a gaggle of 8 million New Yorkers; a needle in a haystack. And despite the times when it seemed like the odds were stacked against me and things were never going to change, I finally realized the simple hope of it all: It only takes one.

No matter how hard it seems, it only takes one person and one connection. It's not always easy to find, but I think focusing on the aspect of one is the best way to look at it. Because you could spend most of your life being single, and then with one chance encounter when you least expect it, everything can change. So in the end, it just takes one.

When I was a kid, I remember asking my mom how you know who the right person is to marry. She responded with, "You just know," which is what her dad had told her when she was younger. At the time I remember thinking that it was kind of vague and unhelpful advice, and she thought the same thing when she heard it. But once I knew with Erin, I thought back to this quote and realized how true it was, despite its simplicity. Sometimes the greatest truths are that way.

So why do I love Erin? Let me count the ways:

• I love that she's from the Midwest, but not from a state I'm from.
  
• I love the fact that we both have Irish roots.
  
• I love that she's tall, but not too tall (which is taller than me : )
  
• I love it when she puts her hair up in a ponytail, even though she thinks it looks scrubby.
  
• I love that Falling Down—the 1993 dark comedy (as I classify it; watch the clip) starring Michael Douglas—is partly responsible for bringing us together. Watching it put her in the right frame of mind to break up with her boyfriend two months before we started dating.
  
• I love the fact that she likes beer and appreciates food as much as I do, even though she can't eat very much, and she gets drunk after two drinks—like at the courthouse when we got our marriage license.
  
• I love how she balances the thrill of hunting and eating meat with her girly shows, like House Hunters and Say Yes to the Dress.
  
• I love the fact that we can watch football together. More so, I love the fact that she planned our wedding around the NFL preseason.
  
• I love that she's cool with going to Hooters.
  
• I love how she sits mesmerized in front of the TV, even when it's just commercials that are on. The fact that she didn't have cable growing up couldn't be more obvious.
  
• I love her outbursts of laughter, and the way she constantly cracks herself up when she's telling me something. And when she starts laughing uncontrollably at things when no one else understands what's so funny.
  
• I love being entertained with her crazy, unconscious gibberish that she spouts off randomly while dreaming at night—and that which she has absolutely no recall.
  
• I love her sweet nature, her childlike innocence, and general goofiness.
  
• I love her ambition, drive, and "get 'er done" mentality. She's gonna make a great nurse someday soon.
  
• I love the road we've traveled, and the adventure that lies ahead.

I'd like to finish with a line I said at my best friend Shawn's wedding last December: "There's no better feeling than knowing where you're supposed to be in life and who you're supposed to be spending it with."

With our marriage, honeymoon, and exciting new life in Denver, nothing could be closer to the truth.

Closer to the Sky

NY → NJ → PA → OH → IN → IL → MO → KS → CO



"You're so far around the bend... There is no leaving New York."

Six weeks ago, I embarked on an epic trek out west to Denver. But when it began, New York City wasn't ready to let me go.

I had a 10-hour drive ahead of me on Friday, May 13th, so an early departure was necessary. Unfortunately, the entire morning was eaten up by getting the rental car, picking up my hockey equipment, and retrieving some of Erin's belongings in Brooklyn. I figured it wouldn't take anymore than two hours.

It took four. When it comes to moving, underestimation seems to be my Achilles' heel.

I finally experienced the hell that is driving in New York City. Suffice it to say that both Manhattan and Brooklyn were complete and utter parking lots, with one bottleneck, traffic jam, and construction zone after another. Newfound respect for cabbies, I have.

There was a lot of cursing, frustration, and aggressive driving. There was me going down a forbidden street that came to a dead end, and having to turn around and face the wrath of the construction worker I disobeyed (as well as my girlfriend's).

One thing there wasn't a lot of: turn signals.

But there was something else. Something that will stick in my memory just as much.

There was a New York that I'd never seen before.

As I maneuvered my way through the concrete grid on that cool May morning, there were moments, like when I was making my way around Columbus Circle, or driving near the Hudson in lower Manhattan, where the city was bright and fresh. It was almost as if a veil had been lifted, and all notions of cramped, dirty city living were replaced with a sheen of cool and clean. I chalked it up to New York's last-ditch ploy in preventing me from leaving.

But leave I did—but not before running the hypertension-inducing gauntlet that is Midtown at lunch hour. All I can say is, TGINHTDINYCEA (Thank God I'll Never Have To Drive In New York City Ever Again.)

What follows is my travelogue for the journey.

Day 1: New York to Dayton (10 hours)

Below is a series of Twitter-like thoughts that I had along the rest of the day, once I'd escaped the clutches of the Concrete Jungle.

• Best Worst City Name: Krumsville, PA
  
• Forgotten Restaurant of the '90s (and for Good Reason): TIE – Long John Silver's/Perkins.
  
• Note to future self: XM22 - Pearl Jam Radio.
  
• Wait—free laundry and tennis from now on??
  
• Garbage disposals!
  
• Billy Squier: underrated driving music
  
• A joke: What's the capital of Pennsylvania? Answer: Harrisburg.
  
• 3:25 p.m.: I become an uncle for the first time.
  
• If Jack Bauer can do it, so can I.
  
• What the sign should say: "GAS GOUGING – 1 MILE"
  
• Just before Dunningsville, PA, I do a double-take as I see one horse mounting another in the field to my left. A close runner-up for highlight of the day, next to finally making it home hours later.
  
• An abandoned rest stop: The spooky scene that should open Season 2 of The Walking Dead.
  
• Yup, the Spin Doctors still get played.
  
• Two words: cruise control.
  
• Not afraid to admit that Carrie Underwood's "Before He Cheats" is a great piece of songwriting.
  
• Tragedy strikes as yet another country song is ruined by a heavy male drawl.

I pulled into the ol' driveway just before 11 p.m. My awesome parents were hospitable and accommodating enough to not only cook my requested steak dinner, but to actually wait to sit down and eat with me hours after it was prepared. I blame NYC again for my tardiness.

Day 2: Dayton to Kansas City (10 hours)

No road trip can begin without Bill's Donuts.

Day 2 almost gets off to a bad start. There was a slight scare with me being charged for another day with the rental car despite the fact that we were returning it within the hour. But seeing how far I'd come, the Budget guy was cool enough to waive the late fee.

With more rest and a copilot in my brother Ben, I know the sailing is going to be a lot smoother than Day 1. We think it's a good sign when Bob Seger's "Turn The Page" greets us as I turn the ignition. "Well here I go—ON THE ROAD AGAIN..." Sadly, my brother Ryan's "Coloroado" mix CD doesn't play for some reason, even though it played fine in the rental car. An early casualty.

It's after 11 in the morning, and it's not surprising that we're shoving off later than originally planned. So instead of getting on the road and making up for lost time, we go straight to Bill's Donuts.

Not long into our drive, we place bets on Ben's bathroom tally for the trip. Ben has a woman's bladder, so I predict that he'll have to go nine times during transit. Ben chooses seven. In the end, Ben goes exactly five times. So I guess we both lose. (And yes, I realize it's a flawed game to begin with.) Outside of Bill's, the log indicates that Ben went in Bumfuck, Illinois; Boondock, Missouri; El Buttfuckerosa, Kansas; and Pike Shit, Kansas—if that paints any picture of civilization along I-70.

In eastern Indiana, we for the first time see the actual sign for Tom Raper RVs, "where fun begins." If you lived in the tri-state area, you'd understand the significance of the occasion. All our lives we've seen Tom Raper's commercials and been puzzled how a man with that name has stayed in business for decades. Laughs abound.


I think I know why he likes RVs.

Somewhere in Illinois, I have Ben hand me the turkey sandwich he made for me the night before. Only, this is no ordinary turkey sandwich. As a person notorious for mixing my food, this new creation of mine may take the cake: a turkey sandwich topped with a generous layer of BROCCOLI SOUFFLÉ. Getting to eat it only once the night before wasn't nearly enough.

The verdict? Best turkey sandwich I ever had. And I think it's safe to say it's never been attempted before.

Ben and I end up splitting driving duty in half, and between good music and conversation about life's many mysteries, we're in Kansas City before we know it. I still pride myself on lowballing Priceline for a $40 room at Holiday Inn. The first time, and certainly not the last.


Ben appearing to take a leak at our cheap hotel in Kansas City.

Thanks to what proved to be a great recommendation from a Denver friend who'd done the drive before, that night we feast like kings at Jack Stack, probably the best barbecue I've ever had. I'm also reintroduced to Fat Tire beer, an instant favorite.


Best barbecue ever. Big props to John Campbell for his invaluable tip.

Day 3: Kansas City to Denver (10 hours)

The day begins with the realization that we left our turkey sandwiches in the car for the night (as if sitting unrefrigerated for the entire previous day wasn't unsanitary enough). Desperate for justification not to toss the sandwiches (remember, mine was a special one), my thoughts quickly turn to the temperature, which is cold and was all night. But wait! I tell Ben. "It was cold all night—and the air—and the temperature—it was like a fridge!" Yeah, yeah! exclaims Ben, immediately seeing where I'm going with this.

The real test comes a few hours later when my stomach starts growling. Trying to ignore the universal fact that unrefrigerated mayonnaise goes bad, I go to work on the turkey soufflé. Somehow, it's just as good as it was 24 hours earlier. I thank the iron stomach for that one.

Ben opts to eat the day-old donuts before his sandwich. I already had some for breakfast. This shouldn't come to any surprise to Centervillians, but day-old Bill's Donuts still tops Dunkin' Donuts or Krispy Kreme any day of the week. Hell, maybe even two-day-old's. No contest.

As many warned me, Kansas is the worst part of the trip; a type of terrestrial cockblock obstructing your path to Colorado. It just goes on forever. But the Smoky Hilly Wind Farm was a sight to behold.


Just two of hundreds on the farm.

We're in west Kansas, and it's time to stop for gas. Thinking it'll be cheaper in the boondocks, I get off the highway only to find no gas station in sight. Was it wiped out by a tornado? No. Turns out, it's just a few miles down some country roads. We get there to see the price: $4.03⅓.

Opting to get the hell out of Dodge, we get back on the highway and find a less isolated station a few miles down the road. Except this one has been abandoned by personnel. Ben seizes the opportunity and takes piss No. 5 on the back wall of the complex, since the door's locked. I'm also tempted to mark my territory, but I feel like we're being watched.



It seems like it would never happen, but we finally leave Kansas for good and cross the Colorado border. On the brink of a big, symbolic moment that we'd been anticipating from the start of our journey, we envision a few things. A huge "COLORADO WELCOMES YOU" sign. Ensuing honks and cheers. The gleam of a dream in our eyes. Instead, we get this:



So much for that.

A few hours later, with the ultra-cool Tron: Legacy score playing, we ride into Denver. Ben's desperately looking for the mountains to reveal themselves, and eventually he can make them out. I tweet: "Mountains beyond mountains! Journey complete."

As we finish our epic 1,260-mile run on I-70 and head up S.R. 36, we debate where to celebrate the toils of our quest. We end up at Rock Bottom Brewery in Westminster, not far from our final destination. When I step out of the car, I get instant confirmation of feeling at home: an ice arena is just a few hundred yards away.

Closer to the Sky

As I sit here over a month later, the hustle and bustle of the transition to a new life has subsided, and I've been able to catch up with reality. My mind is reconciling the different worlds I've traversed in a short period of time, and I'm getting used to the fact that this is my new home, with NYC now in my rear view.

When I stop and revel at it all, I'm left with one thought:

I did it. Three simple words loaded with celebratory success.

Erin and I have had Denver on our minds for a while now. With our wedding on the heels of our NYC lease that's up on July 1st, we came to realize two things. One: We didn't want to spend another year in New York. And two: Even if we moved to another city we liked, Denver would still be in the back of our minds.

So the mission became clear: Denver or bust. Sure, it was going to make an already busy year filled with wedding planning even more hectic. Our plan was dubious to some, but we knew what we wanted, and doing it sooner rather than later was the lesser of two evils. We could move to our destination city, make a clean break with the lease, and return from our honeymoon to a new, exciting home to begin a new chapter in our lives.

But why Denver?

We were drawn to the landscape and the cool vibe of the Mile High City. We liked the idea of being able to settle down in the western region of the country, territory that was comfortable but personally uncharted. We like the laid-back attitude and the opportunities with the outdoors. We love the microbrews.

In short, Denver felt like home.

This is the third time I've changed my living situation for the better and set myself up for new experiences. And as I look back, I'm proud to say I've lived in Nashville and New York, two of the best cities in the U.S. But sometimes it just takes a few years to figure out where you're supposed to be.

I have no regrets about living in New York. I had unique, unforgettable experiences there that I couldn't have had anywhere else. But after 3½ years, it was just time to move on. In my experience, there's no other personal act that's as incredibly liberating and empowering as a big life change in moving to a different state "just as I'd wanted, and almost as if I'd willed it."

So here I am again in a new place, taking in the sights and asking myself how in the hell I got here. These are the times when I enjoy this surreal, exhilarating phase of newness before it gradually fades.

But for now, I smile every time I gaze into the face of the Front Range. Many years from now, I hope to still be pinching myself.

"It's easier to leave than to be left behind... Leaving was never my proud... Leaving New York, never easy. I saw the light fading out."


Road Warriors 2011