Miami Makeover

In the coming days, we’ll hear numerous stories about Miami coach Jim Larranaga, who is taking his second team to the Final Four 17 years after famously taking George Mason to an unlikely berth in 2006. At age 73, he’s now regarded as an elder statesman within coaching circles and portrayed as kindly Uncle Jim who loves his players and does goofy dances with them in the locker room after big wins. 

IYKNK

I covered Larranaga’s University of Fairfax teams (1997-2011) in my previous life – not exclusively; my gig was William and Mary and Old Dominion and the Colonial Athletic Association in general, but I saw plenty of Mason games through the years and was around him frequently. The current image of Larranaga doesn’t jibe with what I recall: prickly, petty, often dismissive of those he didn’t deem sufficiently informed, helpful or faithful. 

A guy who coached against his teams in those days said my recollections aren’t inaccurate. Among his enduring memories of encounters with Mason were post-game handshake lines. If Larranaga’s team won, he offered a firm handshake and said, “Good game.” If his team lost, he gave opponents a quick, dead fish handshake and didn’t say a word. Following one loss, he offered that quick, dead fish grip to the head coach, then immediately made a 90-degree turn and beelined for the locker room, without a nod to anyone else. The coach/rival pointed out that Mason-era Larranaga was still climbing and grinding, trying to prove to others and maybe himself that he belonged, that he was a good coach. He didn’t use that as an excuse for Larranaga’s behavior, but simply an explanation. 

Sunny Jim toiled for 27 mostly-successful years at Division II and D1 mid-major schools (American International, Bowling Green, George Mason). He didn’t reach the NCAA Tournament as a head coach until he was 49 and didn’t get a chance to coach in a marquee league until age 62. 

He's just...he's just Jimmy from the Block

Larranaga also seemed to tailor his narrative to whatever was beneficial. For most of his career, he played up his Noo Yawk upbringing and was Jimmy LAIR-uh-NAY-guh from the Bronx. When he relocated to south Florida, with its sizeable Latino population and influence, he disclosed that his father and grandfather were Cuban with Basque roots. 

He went all rolling Rs and tildes and said that his surname was traditionally pronounced LAR-uh-NYAH-gah. Which was news to the folks at George Mason and to many who had known him for years. He explained away the discrepancy in a story in the Miami Herald a decade ago by saying that when he was a child, he tried to correct the nun at his Catholic pre-school, but she went with the more Italian-sounding pronunciation and spelling, and he let it go. He said that his father wanted the family to Americanize, though when he signed his name through the years, he regularly included the tilde, but folks either didn’t notice or ask questions. 

The aforementioned opposing coach also said that from what he’s seen and heard about Larranaga in recent years that the man has softened a bit personally, if not competitively. He’s more comfortable and confident, and his time at Miami and in the ACC has cemented his coaching bona fides. He has 725 wins and counting, a .601 winning percentage, and it can be argued that he’s slowly assembling a Hall of Fame career. 

Jordan Miller (allegedly) hails from Loudoun
County and (actually) transferred to Miami from
George Mason

The Hurricanes have been to six NCAA tournaments under Larranaga and five of the past seven, including the program’s first Final Four trip and last year’s Elite Eight appearance. Miami went to the NCAAs just twice in the 11 years before he was hired. 

As the ACC shed legendary coaches in recent years – Krzyzewski, Roy Williams, Boeheim – Larranaga has shown no signs of slowing down. Why would he? He’s a basketball lifer with no hobbies who loves coaching. He appears to have a terrific setup in place. He recruits to an attractive location in a primo conference. His teams play an entertaining style. In the new landscape of Name, Image and Likeness, he has a deep-pocketed and willing partner in billionaire John Ruiz, who will ensure that money is available for both high school recruits and transfers. 

In a piece in The Athletic, Hurricanes’ assistant Bill Courtney, who has worked with Larranaga over two stints for 13 years and has known him far longer, said that his boss tells him every day, “’At this point, I’m enjoying my life.’ That attitude permeates to the (players).” The former coach/rival said that videos of Larranaga dancing with his players in the locker room demonstrate that he’s loosened up. “The old Jim probably wouldn’t have been dancing,” he said, “never mind let a camera in there and have it go out so millions of people can see it.” Pity that he wasn’t that guy 15, 20 years ago. Though maybe if he was, he wouldn’t be who and where he is now.

In Solidarity with Mark and Danimal

While Team Gheorghe sends well wishes to our Florida brethren, and in a desperate need for more #content, this morning I give you a smattering of songs associated with liquid water in the form of droplets that have condensed from atmospheric water vapor and then become heavy enough to fall under gravity. Please feel free to jump in the comments and tell me what I missed. In the immortal words of Ollie Williams, IT'S GON' RAIN!

Hope and Scoop

I may not do this enough every day, but today is certainly a day to think of others.

The Islanders (not the hockey team), Texans (not the football team), and Floridians -- especially GTBers traumatized by 100+ mph winds and storm surges taller than Gheorghe Muresan.  God bless.

Mexican earthquake victims, just the latest natural disaster to plague the planet's inhabitants. With more such events to come along soon, sadly and assuredly.

All of these catastrophes remind me of two things. Weirdly.

One, the line "we care a lot about disasters, fires, floods, and killer bees. Faith No More.



The other is Gheorghe Carlin's typically irreverent take on our planet and those who would assert it needs saving.  It's all good Carlin, but jump to 6:30 for the best.




Well, there's a slew of Mother Nature ass-whippings taking place out there this week, and I am hopeful that casualties are few and far between.  It does seem like Irma could have been far crueler to the Gulf Coast (thus far).  At least compared to what was "forecast" from the meteorologists.  The weather folks appear to be chucking darts at a board for their predictions, now more than ever.  Actually, Dave throws darts far more accurately than they predict weather.

Me wishing good things for those that have endured these irrevocably life-changing disasters doesn't really do a whole lot, as our curmudegonly fratre Malone posted this weekend (see meme at right).

As such, for those that are inclined, click on this link to go straight to the Red Cross donation site.  I will make a donation so as to not be a total hypocrite.  Or give blood. I'm Type O+ so they need my blood, amazingly.  It's more pure than in the old days, so I give every few months.

Anyway, today is September 11, so there's more to think about.  This morning 16 years ago a lot of things changed for the worse.  This far removed, it remains important to keep the spirit of fallen brethren (and anyone who perished that day) alive.  We frequently highlight our friend Lud, in part because he always seemed to think of others first, and because the elder GTBers were simply much closer with him, his sister, and his parents. For sure, never let the vitality of Mark Ludvigsen ever fade.

At the same time, it's just as important to remember that, accordingly a school official, six undergraduate alumni of the College of William & Mary died in 9/11, and three of them were members of our fraternity separated by just six years. Uncanny.  Crappy.

In addition to Jim Connor '85, a resident of Summit, NJ at the time, we lost Mike Edwards '90.

Scoop, as we called him for some reasons unbeknownst to me, was a couple of years older than Dave, Rob, and I, and he mocked us mercilessly.  Deservedly.

It's funny that in college you know someone for just a few years, but because back then we crammed 37 guys into 19 tiny rooms without cable access, we got to know each other -- and our faults -- really well.  Of course, then you read someone's obituary, like that of Michael Hardy Edwards:

One way he found joy was through athletics. He was a crack hurdler in college, and he continued to run. In fact, name just about any sport, and it seemed that he did it: golf, skydiving, scuba diving, snowboarding, skiing.

Crack hurdler?  I don't even know what that is, but if it's akin to papal elector, I guess that could be right for Scoop. I don't remember him doing a whole hell of a lot athletic, maybe simply because his permanently affixed do-rag and tie-dye don't exude "SPORTS."  Anyway, I do like that on a memorial website there is this:

Education:Garden City High School
College of William & Mary 

Affiliations:New York Athletic Club (where Lud's memorial service was)
Garden City Golf Club 

Hobbies and Interests:
Pi Lambda Phi
running
golf skiing
playing guitar
scuba diving 

Special Interests: Scuba Diving, Skiing, golf, the Grateful Dead, Central Park, Cuban cigars, Dave Matthews Band, Allman Brothers, Traveling, his friends, family

I trust that last section isn't in order.  Anyway, what I remember most about Mike Edwards is whiling away the afternoons when others went to "class," lounging with a Milwaukee's Best or two and some crap cassette of Hartford '83 or the like.  In his honor, here are three shows that we would have enjoyed, each performed on September 11.

Scoop... have one.

GRATEFUL DEAD -- AUDITORIUM, WEST PALM BEACH, FL 9/11/82

GRATEFUL DEAD -- CAPITAL CENTRE, LANDOVER, MD 9/11/87

GRATEFUL DEAD -- WILLIAM AND MARY HALL, WILLIAMSBURG,VA 9/11/73

Terra F-irma

The lore of the islands and anywhere from Dewey Beach to Duval Street includes romantic tales of "hurricane parties" and stubborn sons of Hemingway refusing to leave their domicile for any storm.

CNN and The Weather Channel report stories of homes devastated and lives lost, and government officials implore anyone in a storm's path to take higher ground in far-off safe havens.

The reality of most folks we know is somewhere in between.  Batten down the hatches, meet in Danimal's safe room, and drink rum until she's gone.

As such, there should be some appropriately themed songs to soundtrack your experience.  Let's spin a few...

Fingers crossed for Mark, Dan, collective loved ones, and all of Florida.  Even Finky's.

The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day 3

On the third day of Gheorghemas, Big Gheorghe gave to me...

Three catastrophe staches
The Finest Holiday Duet in History
And One Hell of a bloggy Par-ty

We at Gheorghe: the Blog like to make the most out of any situation. When life gives us limes, we make gimlets. So when Hurricane Sandy blew through New Jersey and sapped our power faster than Ian Hymen on a Saturday night, G:TB's Jerseyites made the most of the dim situation (get it?). Absent heat and power, in the face of great difficulty and darkness ... we grew catastrophe mustaches.

The timing couldn't have been better. I shaved cleanly the morning of the storm, October 30, giving me a perfect lead into Movember and making my stache nominally socially acceptable. TR played a similar gambit and we exchanged a few photos along the way via text.

Dave also grew a mustache, but this isn't as impressive because he can grow one at any time -- he balls up his fists, scrunches up his face, and pushes the hair out of his upper lip in the same way that other folks push a recalcitrant turd out of their recta. Instant mustache, although it's more of a Dirty Sanchez according to my metaphor.

The results were electrifying (get it?):

Thus another chapter enters the glorious continuing saga of "gheorghe mustache".

On a more serious note, our outcomes were a lot more fortunate than many others'. There were many terrible stories of great loss and death, thankfully none involving us or those we know. We hope the remainer of 2012 will be comparatively uneventful and we look forward to numerous events of chicanery in 2013, starting with shenanigans scheduled in January, all of which will be summarized in Gheorghemas 2013.

*****SPECIAL BONUS VIDEO HAVING NOTHING TO DO WITH THE FOREGOING*****

Now I have Heart Sweats stuck in my head. Enjoy.

"Yes" was the start of my last jam

This title of this song properly sums up my experience with Hurricane Irene.



The morning before the storm, zsister-in-law freaked out zwoman, causing zwoman to send me to the grocery store. I live around the corner from a D'Agastino, one of the worst grocery chains on the planet, but I figured it would suffice for milk, frozen food, a bag of apples, pasta, etc. The line was insanely long, much too long to wait for terrible produce, so I went up the street to Food Emporium. If you've never heard of Food Emporium, it was the fanciest supermarket chain in the northeast until Bread and Circus and Whole Foods arrived. It's a step above Harris Teeter but not quite Whole Foods. It was nothing like this:



It was, in fact, like this:



And this:



The photos make the place look big but they don't do it justice. It's massive. It's their flagship location. I suspect that whoever designed the floorplan also runs CVS, because they only have five registers. Five. This is why you only see a few lines of people in the photos. Everyone else is standing in a pool of humanity back by the frozen foods and the yogurt.

Their yogurt selection is daunting. I just get the cheapest fat free stuff they have, which is their store brand and also happens to be organic. But they easily have 25 different brands of yogurt to choose from, based on milk from at least two different species of animal. As I commented that day, all the organic Greek goat's milk yogurt was gone. Shortly after I made that comment, a kid showed up with a bunch of the creamy stuff and restocked the shelf. As soon as he moved away from the counter, hordes of stylish young women with Burberry umbrellas, Torry Burch wellingtons, and eating disorders attacked the display.

I waited on the line for almost an hour, passing by all manner of interesting but expensive and ultimately unnecessary products, like this thing for storing half of an avocado. I saw two different people take one while waiting to pay for my stuff.

I also saw a stylish thirty-something woman frantically scour the display next to the salt display (they have infinite types of salt), and she made an elated face as her arm shot forward into the display and pulled back a bottle. She was only one person ahead of me, so when I got the the display I was able to determine with 100% accuracy that this is what she excitedly grabbed:



She got the second-to-last bottle of black truffle oil. Note that there was plenty of white truffle oil left, but everyone knows that stuff's only useful in a tornado. You need the black junk for a hurricane.

I finally checked out, went home, and made my famous Hungarian pasta: chop half a sopresetta into 1/4 inch cubes and sweat the fat out of them in a sauce pan over medium heat. Once you see a nice layer of oil in the pan, pour in a jar of four cheese pasta sauce -- the brand doesn't matter (in fact, the cheaper the better) but four cheese works the best. Simmer over medium low heat. Boil a box penne (I like the ones with the grooves on the sides to carry the sauce). Pour off the water, put the sauce with the sopresetta in the pot with the noodles, stir, eat. The leftovers will be even better than the original meal, just reheat and enjoy.

Then I cleaned up and met Marls and Marlsette for some drinks. Contrary to rob's fears, we found some absinthe:



I came home and eventually went to bed. When I awoke it was raining. I got some breakfast for zfamily at Hot Jumbo Bagels (which is the shit, anyone who goes to Tal Bagels for actual bagels is either an idiot or from Virginia) it rained until 10:30 am or so, and then it stopped. It was cloudy for the rest of the day.

And that's my story about the time Hurricane Irene hit New York City.

Here comes the story of The Hurricane

This video seems appropriate for live-blogging the current weather ... until someone else writes a real post.