Hooray, a Theme

Procrastination, defined: I applied to college three days after the deadline, failed to select a major until the third "You have to pick a major now--seriously" letter, and decided against applying for jobs until after I had graduated; about eight months too late.  Perhaps the most important question anyone is ever asked, "What do you want to do with your life?" and I had no idea.  Grad school?  Only because I couldn't find a job description I both liked and was qualified for.  Forget the job itself.

As a 21-year old, I started coaching as an assistant for a group of local 11-year olds.  As is my nature, I had to be pushed and prodded into it; 21-year old Zach would have preferred anything to interacting with kids.  Four years later, and I've made it my career.  And I love it.

So, From The Deuce has a new focus; The Life and Times of a (still) rookie youth coach.  Four years in, and I have a virtually limitless amount of stories.  Enjoy.

Hiatus

As an elementary schooler, I was in love with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.  I had all three movies (even the third one where they travel through time), at least 20 action figures, and the video game for Super Nintendo in which pizza boxes served as lives.  You'd think this would have been enough; afterall, despite my affinity for fictional reptiles, I spent a fair amount of time playing outside and interacting with friends.  And the hundreds of dollars my parents gave to Mattel on my behalf was enough, until the toy company came out with the Technodrome, the Shredder's base of operations.  I had to have this 18-inch tall piece of plastic to make my Ninja Turtles battles "realistic." The irony of the previous statement is not lost on me now, but certainly was on my 10-year old self.

After pleading with parents and grandparents alike for months, the Technodrome was mine.  As I unwrapped the plastic, ball-shaped base, I could barely contain my excitement.  The commercials made it look so cool.  And it was.  For a week and a half.  Ten days later, the Technodrome could have been a fork as far as I was concerned. 

I share similar views on the 2010 Michigan football team and, despite my efforts to the contrary, the overarching theme of this blog.  Excitement towards a toy (or football team) is easy until its flaws become obvious.  For the Technodrome, that meant its inability to move or otherwise interact with my toys on its own.  For the football team, that meant stuffed animals and Obi Ezeh. 

So I'm back, equally excited and cautiously optimistic about the 2011 Michigan football team.  All this despite moving Denard Robinson out of the shotgun, suspending our best receiver, and continuing to play a walk-on at the most important position on defense.  Leave me alone.