We're done. We never did recover from the disappointment of losing our Gold Bracket play-in match. So, as I feared, we were an emotional no-show in our early afternoon Bronze bracket match, and lost it 0-2. So we're done.
Very disappointing result for us. Finished tied for 32nd overall.
Pics, vids and maybe some stats in another week or two.
- Aw2pp, who is now headed to aa.com to see if there are any early flights home to Chicago.
Showing posts with label volleyball. Show all posts
Showing posts with label volleyball. Show all posts
Monday, May 31, 2010
So much for the Gold Bracket
Lost our first Gold Bracket challenge match this morning. Congrats to Rizen from Hawaii, who played a tough, hard-fought match that was marred near the end of game 3 by some dishonesty by the winners. At this moment, we're moping around the Phoneix Convention Center, feeling somewhat sorry for ourselves for losing in the way we did, angry at ourselves for not playing harder / better, and disappointed in the other team for some calls they should have made on themselves, but chose not to. "It's Nationals... this is why we pay for officials, so they can make the calls, not us*." Well then.
* - To be fair, most teams would agree with this. As would most of my teammates. Except when it costs them (us) a match. This is one of those things that I guess I understand, but is much harder for me apply personally. If I touch the ball, I say so. If I touch the net**, I say so.
** - Those of you who have been out of volleyball for a few years may be surprised to hear that you are now allowed to touch the net under most circumstances. I know, I hate it too.
Next up is the Bronze Bracket. Unlike the Gold, which is double-elimination, any match we lose in Bronze will end our tournament. Winner of the 12 team Bronze bracket will take home Gold Medals (go figure) that say "Bronze Champions". They'll also be able to claim a final National Rank of (counts it up...) 25th. We are going to need to get our heads back on our shoulders before our first match... or our trip through Bronze is going to be short and sour.
- Aw2pp, who will now go find the closest Subway, then go back to the Convention Center.
* - To be fair, most teams would agree with this. As would most of my teammates. Except when it costs them (us) a match. This is one of those things that I guess I understand, but is much harder for me apply personally. If I touch the ball, I say so. If I touch the net**, I say so.
** - Those of you who have been out of volleyball for a few years may be surprised to hear that you are now allowed to touch the net under most circumstances. I know, I hate it too.
Next up is the Bronze Bracket. Unlike the Gold, which is double-elimination, any match we lose in Bronze will end our tournament. Winner of the 12 team Bronze bracket will take home Gold Medals (go figure) that say "Bronze Champions". They'll also be able to claim a final National Rank of (counts it up...) 25th. We are going to need to get our heads back on our shoulders before our first match... or our trip through Bronze is going to be short and sour.
- Aw2pp, who will now go find the closest Subway, then go back to the Convention Center.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Day two update from Phoenix
Easy day today. Two matches, two wins, I played only the first.
After dropping our second match yesterday, we seem to have composed ourselves, and took care of business in sweeping both matches today. To recap, now, pool play:
Match 1 - RVC Red (from Boston), we won 2-0
Match 2 - Vamo' Alla (from the Chesapeake area, not Indiana as I had previously thought) we lost 0-2
Match 3 - Graywater VBC (Seattle), 2-0
Match 4 - Balls and Beers (Milwaukee, natch), 2-0*
Match 5 - Metro Long Beach (New Jersey), 2-0
* - Midway through game two of this match, I had one of the top 5 kills of my 20-year volleyball career. It was unusual... I knew I was going to be set, and I figured they (the other team) knew, but when I went up to swing, I found myself all alone, no block in sight. I questioned this momentarily. "Where is everyone?" No block ever appeared, so I swung away. I'll post a clip of this if I can.
Other than our moment of inattention against Vamo' Alla, we've had an easy time of it. Problem is, Vamo' Alla swept the pool, which means in order for us to advance to the Gold Bracket (where Championships are won, of course), we now need to win two matches instead of one. So 8:00 AM tomorrow, we'll take the court against Rizen VBC, from Hawaii. They are exactly the kind of team that gives us fits... little, quick, smart. I'm officially concerned.
Last comment, completely unrelated to anything. My Yahoo email address sent some spam a couple of nights ago to everyone in my address book. Ordinarily, this is a sign of a virus, but in this case, I don't have the Yahoo address installed on any email client*. Which suggests to me that this was a problem on the Yahoo side (and if anyone can point me somewhere that might verify this, I'd be obliged.) If'n it happens again, I might be forced to cancel that email account. Not sure what else I can do about it. So apologies go out to those of you who were spammed a couple days ago. Here's hoping that's the last of that.
* - Like Outlook or Lotus, for example. Viruses commonly are written to co-opt these programs.
Depending on how we do tomorrow, it could be a very, very long day.
- Aw2pp, virus-free since 1998.
After dropping our second match yesterday, we seem to have composed ourselves, and took care of business in sweeping both matches today. To recap, now, pool play:
Match 1 - RVC Red (from Boston), we won 2-0
Match 2 - Vamo' Alla (from the Chesapeake area, not Indiana as I had previously thought) we lost 0-2
Match 3 - Graywater VBC (Seattle), 2-0
Match 4 - Balls and Beers (Milwaukee, natch), 2-0*
Match 5 - Metro Long Beach (New Jersey), 2-0
* - Midway through game two of this match, I had one of the top 5 kills of my 20-year volleyball career. It was unusual... I knew I was going to be set, and I figured they (the other team) knew, but when I went up to swing, I found myself all alone, no block in sight. I questioned this momentarily. "Where is everyone?" No block ever appeared, so I swung away. I'll post a clip of this if I can.
Other than our moment of inattention against Vamo' Alla, we've had an easy time of it. Problem is, Vamo' Alla swept the pool, which means in order for us to advance to the Gold Bracket (where Championships are won, of course), we now need to win two matches instead of one. So 8:00 AM tomorrow, we'll take the court against Rizen VBC, from Hawaii. They are exactly the kind of team that gives us fits... little, quick, smart. I'm officially concerned.
Last comment, completely unrelated to anything. My Yahoo email address sent some spam a couple of nights ago to everyone in my address book. Ordinarily, this is a sign of a virus, but in this case, I don't have the Yahoo address installed on any email client*. Which suggests to me that this was a problem on the Yahoo side (and if anyone can point me somewhere that might verify this, I'd be obliged.) If'n it happens again, I might be forced to cancel that email account. Not sure what else I can do about it. So apologies go out to those of you who were spammed a couple days ago. Here's hoping that's the last of that.
* - Like Outlook or Lotus, for example. Viruses commonly are written to co-opt these programs.
Depending on how we do tomorrow, it could be a very, very long day.
- Aw2pp, virus-free since 1998.
Day one update from Phoenix
We ended up being seeded a gaudy third, which is really an endorsement in a 72 team field. After the first day, though we proved unworthy of the compliment, dropping a match to a small, unassuming, and feisty team from Indiana. We made the mistake of rolling our eyes during their lethargic and unimpressive warmup, and sat two of our best players*.
* - Yes, I was one of those who sat. It's a long tournament, the Open, and I willingly take every break offered to me.
We rebounded later, winning our third match of the first day, and finishing 2-1. All is not lost, but the path to the Gold bracket probably is now one match longer than it should have been.
- Aw2pp, who now understands what people mean when they say, "But it's a dry heat."
* - Yes, I was one of those who sat. It's a long tournament, the Open, and I willingly take every break offered to me.
We rebounded later, winning our third match of the first day, and finishing 2-1. All is not lost, but the path to the Gold bracket probably is now one match longer than it should have been.
- Aw2pp, who now understands what people mean when they say, "But it's a dry heat."
Friday, May 28, 2010
Piano takes a break for a few days...
... unless my hotel has one, in which case all bets are off.
My flight leaves this afternoon for Phoenix, for the 78th Annual USA Open National Volleyball Championships. Or as my Junior Olympic coaching friends call it, "That Big Party USAV Uses To Fund Itself For The Rest Of The Year." Or as I call it, "The Annual Convention of Really Tall People."
Last year, as you may recall, we finished 5th out of 48 in Men's A. It was an insane result, really, much better than we had a right to expect. After all, we started a 5'10" (ie, unusually short) setter, and me, a 6'5" (ie, somewhat short*) 40 year-old (ie, unusually old) middle blocker. This year, our setter is no taller, I am a year older, and yet, even though 72 teams** are entered, optimism is high. We'll find out our seed tonight, then get underway tomorrow. Daily updates to come, including match results, soreness complaints***, and a running tally of the number of people I come across who are taller than me.
* - Ok, Sue, fine, I admit it, I am no longer 6'5", I am 6'4". Maybe.
** - Moving the tournament out west seems to attract a large number of West Coast teams.
*** - This year brings an added challenge, in that I am saddled with something called the Croup. It's a virus that has been going around the family for a few days (thank you Joey and Rowan). Before the doctor diagnosed them last week, I had heard of Croup, but thought that it was a made-up disease our great-great grandparents dealt with, or something that had been eradicated years ago with the advent of sterilized operating rooms. (See Dropsy, Scrofula.****) Wrong, it's apparently a real malady. And a fairly debilitating one at that.
**** - And yes, I was wrong about those, they are real too. Just called something different today. Obviously my pre-med college curriculum, such as it was, didn't take.
Finally, to channel Phineas and answer the question you're almost certainly thinking... why yes, yes I am too old for this sort of thing.
- Aw2pp, a Middle Blocker for Chicago Coast North, leading his team with a .289 hitting percentage on the year.
My flight leaves this afternoon for Phoenix, for the 78th Annual USA Open National Volleyball Championships. Or as my Junior Olympic coaching friends call it, "That Big Party USAV Uses To Fund Itself For The Rest Of The Year." Or as I call it, "The Annual Convention of Really Tall People."
Last year, as you may recall, we finished 5th out of 48 in Men's A. It was an insane result, really, much better than we had a right to expect. After all, we started a 5'10" (ie, unusually short) setter, and me, a 6'5" (ie, somewhat short*) 40 year-old (ie, unusually old) middle blocker. This year, our setter is no taller, I am a year older, and yet, even though 72 teams** are entered, optimism is high. We'll find out our seed tonight, then get underway tomorrow. Daily updates to come, including match results, soreness complaints***, and a running tally of the number of people I come across who are taller than me.
* - Ok, Sue, fine, I admit it, I am no longer 6'5", I am 6'4". Maybe.
** - Moving the tournament out west seems to attract a large number of West Coast teams.
*** - This year brings an added challenge, in that I am saddled with something called the Croup. It's a virus that has been going around the family for a few days (thank you Joey and Rowan). Before the doctor diagnosed them last week, I had heard of Croup, but thought that it was a made-up disease our great-great grandparents dealt with, or something that had been eradicated years ago with the advent of sterilized operating rooms. (See Dropsy, Scrofula.****) Wrong, it's apparently a real malady. And a fairly debilitating one at that.
**** - And yes, I was wrong about those, they are real too. Just called something different today. Obviously my pre-med college curriculum, such as it was, didn't take.
Finally, to channel Phineas and answer the question you're almost certainly thinking... why yes, yes I am too old for this sort of thing.
- Aw2pp, a Middle Blocker for Chicago Coast North, leading his team with a .289 hitting percentage on the year.
Friday, May 29, 2009
US Open Pix
Mainly for interested family members. The rest of you can... uh... read about how mean Tasmanian Devils are to each other.
The pictures were from a Day 2 match against Creole, a fabled team from NYC. They were pretty good, but we won in three games.
I am fairly certain this tip landed in front of Kevin, the gentleman poised on the right. That's me blocking middle there (number 11).
Though I think we got him this time, the guy on the other team pretty much owned me this match. Number 4 there is Brad, the person I mentioned last post who flew in to see the Einaudi concert.
That's me on the left, demonstrating how NOT to block. (You see, if the ball hits my hands there, it goes back to the other side of the net, out of bounds. Which is exactly what happened, if I recall this play correctly.)
Serving a jump-float. Strange face.
I just barely got a touch on this, which was good enough for it to go down and land on the other floor.
Hmm. I think the only three times we / I stopped this guy, we got pictures of it. This time it was his own fault, as you see him hitting the ball in the net. Thankfully, there are no pictures of the 27 or so kills he must have had against me.
Eventually, I figured out he really, REALLY liked to hit the ball to his right.
- Aw2pp, the shiny-headed guy
The pictures were from a Day 2 match against Creole, a fabled team from NYC. They were pretty good, but we won in three games.
I am fairly certain this tip landed in front of Kevin, the gentleman poised on the right. That's me blocking middle there (number 11).
Though I think we got him this time, the guy on the other team pretty much owned me this match. Number 4 there is Brad, the person I mentioned last post who flew in to see the Einaudi concert.
That's me on the left, demonstrating how NOT to block. (You see, if the ball hits my hands there, it goes back to the other side of the net, out of bounds. Which is exactly what happened, if I recall this play correctly.)
Serving a jump-float. Strange face.
I just barely got a touch on this, which was good enough for it to go down and land on the other floor.
Hmm. I think the only three times we / I stopped this guy, we got pictures of it. This time it was his own fault, as you see him hitting the ball in the net. Thankfully, there are no pictures of the 27 or so kills he must have had against me.
Eventually, I figured out he really, REALLY liked to hit the ball to his right.
- Aw2pp, the shiny-headed guy
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
And another volleyball season is in the books
This is my 20th year of playing volleyball competitively. Last weekend, I played in my (counting, hold please...) 12th US Open. Or, as I like to call it, the Annual Memorial Day Convention of Unusually Tall People.
The first time I played this tournament was in Memphis, 1993. (It moves from city to city each year, you see.) At the time, former USA National Team middle blocker Craig Buck was regarded, at 6'8", as some sort of freakishly tall curiosity. Near the tournament desk, the USVBA Tournament Directors placed a lifesize, cardboard cutout of Craig, standing with one hand at his side, and another stretched toward the ceiling. I watched many people walk up to Cardboard Craig, compare their meager paws and reach to his, and walk away shaking their that such a creature could exist, especially one with the agility and quickness needed to play world-class volleyball.
Fast forward now to this past weekend. I must have seen, oh, 75 people (including at least one woman) taller than Cardboard Craig. Volleyball players are getting younger and taller. Craig would blend right in these days; nobody would blink at him. One of my friends had a 7'3" blocking specialist on his team. (That guy turned some heads, but he was not a very good volleyball player.)
So yes, you may have been walking around your block, or mall, or town square, or wherever one walks, wondering to yourself, "Gosh, where are all the 6'3" women, and 6'9" men I am used to seeing?" I can tell you. They were in Minneapolis playing volleyball. As a reasonably (but by no means shockingly) tall person, I am accustomed to being the tallest individual in sight. But this tournament (and, to a lesser extent, the smaller events held during the course of the regular season) are simultaneously thrilling and yet intimidating for me. On the one hand, it is a thrill to feel part of some sort of special (yet totally meaningless) coterie. But it is also highly intimidating to realize that there are hundreds, even thousands of folks that are highly skilled, athletically gifted, and yes, tall. It's a reminder to stay off the High Horse.
The tournament is called the US Open and Club Volleyball Championships. It isn't so much a single tournament as it is multiple concurrent national championship tournaments, in dozens of divisions defined by gender, age, and skills. My team, Chicago Coast North, technically doesn't play in the US Open. That level of play is reserved for folks who are (or recently were, or soon will be) National-caliber players. Among the Open women's teams, for example, were Team Canada, UCLA, and their PAC-10 rivals (and recent NCAA Champion) Washington Huskies. Canada also sent their men's National team, where they finished mid-pack among an 8 team field in Men's Open. My division, Men's A, is slotted a level (ok, fine, two levels) below Open. We were seeded 8th in our 52 team field, and at first, I regarded that as a gross exaggeration of our skills. Turned out, I underestimated us. We had a phenomenal tournament, winning 8 of our 11 matches, losing only to the eventual 2nd and 3rd place finishers. We finished 5th, the best finish I have been part of since my Texas team placed 3rd in 1998. Good time was had by all, but don't ask me to move any furniture today. "Sore" doesn't begin to describe the feeling of 27 volleyball games, played over the course of 3 days, on courts that are merely a rubberized surface atop a concrete convention center floor. Photos will come later. Thousands were taken, and I'm bound to have been in one or two of them.
During a lunchtime conversation, Kevin (another middle blocker) was complaining about TV. As the father of 4 youngins (three under 4), he and his wife have the same constraints Sue and I have about TV. Time restrictions and content (especially commercials) make family TV watching problematic. So he turns to me: "You don't watch much TV, do you guys?"
"Well, seems like Ro watches a lot, but for the most part, no, it never seems like there is time. Always moving to the next activity or stage in the day." And I launched into how I have had friends in the past who took pride in how little TV they watched, as if it were a sign of their cultural or intellectual refinement. Me, I take no pride in how little TV we watch. I would watch more if I could, and look forward to some day getting into shows like House, or 24, or Lost, or whatever will be on TV when Joey goes to college*. But since I don't watch those regularly now, there is no point in getting into them at all.
* - Joey is the soon-to-be 10 month old. Yeah, it will be a few years.
"So, aside from cleaning up after dinner, doing bedtime stuff, and all that, what do you do with your time? Like, for fun?"
"Well, talk is fun. Hanging out. And I play piano. That's part of how I got into piano in the first place, come to think of it."
"Oh yeah, how is that going?" (When Kevin and his family came to see us a few months back, I was goaded into playing Limbo for them. He warned me at the time, "I don't play an instrument, but I know enough music to be able to tell if you are faking your way through it, so you better play it right. No pressure.")
"Good. I have a recital coming up, where I am going to play something else by that same guy."
Brad, sitting two seats over, then piped in. He is an Outside Hitter we imported from Los Angeles. Good guy, really laid back in his Southern Californian way. I had no idea he was paying attention to the conversation, until he asked, "What guy? What are you playing?"
I assume, as a general principle, that the music I am playing (which, as you all know, is Einaudi's I Due Fiumi) is completely obscure. I further assume (which I shouldn't... Sue is telling me all the time I assume too much and too frequently) that nobody cares, or has ever heard of the music I am playing. I therefore assume (and I have no idea why I assume this) that these conversations would be much easier if I were playing something people can relate to, like Fur Elise, Hey Jude, or Hit Me Baby One More Time. But food had just arrived, I was more interested in eating my burger than continuing this conversation, so I said, as matter-of-factly as I could, "I Due Fiumi by Ludovico Einaudi." I thought that would sort of end the conversation. I was wrong.
"Oh, I love that guy. He's awesome. I saw him in concert a few months ago. What did you say you were playing again?"
I would have been less stunned had he told me about his plans to go to market with a cold-fusion powered Big Wheel. After a moment of recovery, I repeated "I Due Fiumi. It means 'The Two Rivers'."
"Never heard of it." He then pulled out his iPhone (every SoCal I have ever met has an iPhone) and showed me his Einaudi collection, including Una Mattina and Divenire. He wrote down I Giorni, the CD on which I Due Fiumi was released, and casually got to work on a cobb salad. In between bites, he talked about how he played piano a long time ago, doesn't anymore, a friend got him into Einaudi, landed concert tickets, they flew to San Francisco for the day, etc. As I mentioned earlier, I was stunned at this conversation... he seemed to regard it as quite unremarkable.
Next day, I handed him my Blackberry, and asked him to give IDF a listen. "Oh, I already have it. I downloaded it off iTunes last night. Good stuff. Anything else you want to recommend of his?" Well then.
On the way out after the tournament ended Tuesday, he wished me luck on the recital, and asked if I were going to record it. "Post it to Youtube." Right now, my Youtube channel consists of only a single recording (I think, it's been awhile) of me attempting Limbo last summer. Might be time to add some content.
- Aw2pp, who is all about the Requirements Author's Workbench
The first time I played this tournament was in Memphis, 1993. (It moves from city to city each year, you see.) At the time, former USA National Team middle blocker Craig Buck was regarded, at 6'8", as some sort of freakishly tall curiosity. Near the tournament desk, the USVBA Tournament Directors placed a lifesize, cardboard cutout of Craig, standing with one hand at his side, and another stretched toward the ceiling. I watched many people walk up to Cardboard Craig, compare their meager paws and reach to his, and walk away shaking their that such a creature could exist, especially one with the agility and quickness needed to play world-class volleyball.
Fast forward now to this past weekend. I must have seen, oh, 75 people (including at least one woman) taller than Cardboard Craig. Volleyball players are getting younger and taller. Craig would blend right in these days; nobody would blink at him. One of my friends had a 7'3" blocking specialist on his team. (That guy turned some heads, but he was not a very good volleyball player.)
So yes, you may have been walking around your block, or mall, or town square, or wherever one walks, wondering to yourself, "Gosh, where are all the 6'3" women, and 6'9" men I am used to seeing?" I can tell you. They were in Minneapolis playing volleyball. As a reasonably (but by no means shockingly) tall person, I am accustomed to being the tallest individual in sight. But this tournament (and, to a lesser extent, the smaller events held during the course of the regular season) are simultaneously thrilling and yet intimidating for me. On the one hand, it is a thrill to feel part of some sort of special (yet totally meaningless) coterie. But it is also highly intimidating to realize that there are hundreds, even thousands of folks that are highly skilled, athletically gifted, and yes, tall. It's a reminder to stay off the High Horse.
The tournament is called the US Open and Club Volleyball Championships. It isn't so much a single tournament as it is multiple concurrent national championship tournaments, in dozens of divisions defined by gender, age, and skills. My team, Chicago Coast North, technically doesn't play in the US Open. That level of play is reserved for folks who are (or recently were, or soon will be) National-caliber players. Among the Open women's teams, for example, were Team Canada, UCLA, and their PAC-10 rivals (and recent NCAA Champion) Washington Huskies. Canada also sent their men's National team, where they finished mid-pack among an 8 team field in Men's Open. My division, Men's A, is slotted a level (ok, fine, two levels) below Open. We were seeded 8th in our 52 team field, and at first, I regarded that as a gross exaggeration of our skills. Turned out, I underestimated us. We had a phenomenal tournament, winning 8 of our 11 matches, losing only to the eventual 2nd and 3rd place finishers. We finished 5th, the best finish I have been part of since my Texas team placed 3rd in 1998. Good time was had by all, but don't ask me to move any furniture today. "Sore" doesn't begin to describe the feeling of 27 volleyball games, played over the course of 3 days, on courts that are merely a rubberized surface atop a concrete convention center floor. Photos will come later. Thousands were taken, and I'm bound to have been in one or two of them.
During a lunchtime conversation, Kevin (another middle blocker) was complaining about TV. As the father of 4 youngins (three under 4), he and his wife have the same constraints Sue and I have about TV. Time restrictions and content (especially commercials) make family TV watching problematic. So he turns to me: "You don't watch much TV, do you guys?"
"Well, seems like Ro watches a lot, but for the most part, no, it never seems like there is time. Always moving to the next activity or stage in the day." And I launched into how I have had friends in the past who took pride in how little TV they watched, as if it were a sign of their cultural or intellectual refinement. Me, I take no pride in how little TV we watch. I would watch more if I could, and look forward to some day getting into shows like House, or 24, or Lost, or whatever will be on TV when Joey goes to college*. But since I don't watch those regularly now, there is no point in getting into them at all.
* - Joey is the soon-to-be 10 month old. Yeah, it will be a few years.
"So, aside from cleaning up after dinner, doing bedtime stuff, and all that, what do you do with your time? Like, for fun?"
"Well, talk is fun. Hanging out. And I play piano. That's part of how I got into piano in the first place, come to think of it."
"Oh yeah, how is that going?" (When Kevin and his family came to see us a few months back, I was goaded into playing Limbo for them. He warned me at the time, "I don't play an instrument, but I know enough music to be able to tell if you are faking your way through it, so you better play it right. No pressure.")
"Good. I have a recital coming up, where I am going to play something else by that same guy."
Brad, sitting two seats over, then piped in. He is an Outside Hitter we imported from Los Angeles. Good guy, really laid back in his Southern Californian way. I had no idea he was paying attention to the conversation, until he asked, "What guy? What are you playing?"
I assume, as a general principle, that the music I am playing (which, as you all know, is Einaudi's I Due Fiumi) is completely obscure. I further assume (which I shouldn't... Sue is telling me all the time I assume too much and too frequently) that nobody cares, or has ever heard of the music I am playing. I therefore assume (and I have no idea why I assume this) that these conversations would be much easier if I were playing something people can relate to, like Fur Elise, Hey Jude, or Hit Me Baby One More Time. But food had just arrived, I was more interested in eating my burger than continuing this conversation, so I said, as matter-of-factly as I could, "I Due Fiumi by Ludovico Einaudi." I thought that would sort of end the conversation. I was wrong.
"Oh, I love that guy. He's awesome. I saw him in concert a few months ago. What did you say you were playing again?"
I would have been less stunned had he told me about his plans to go to market with a cold-fusion powered Big Wheel. After a moment of recovery, I repeated "I Due Fiumi. It means 'The Two Rivers'."
"Never heard of it." He then pulled out his iPhone (every SoCal I have ever met has an iPhone) and showed me his Einaudi collection, including Una Mattina and Divenire. He wrote down I Giorni, the CD on which I Due Fiumi was released, and casually got to work on a cobb salad. In between bites, he talked about how he played piano a long time ago, doesn't anymore, a friend got him into Einaudi, landed concert tickets, they flew to San Francisco for the day, etc. As I mentioned earlier, I was stunned at this conversation... he seemed to regard it as quite unremarkable.
Next day, I handed him my Blackberry, and asked him to give IDF a listen. "Oh, I already have it. I downloaded it off iTunes last night. Good stuff. Anything else you want to recommend of his?" Well then.
On the way out after the tournament ended Tuesday, he wished me luck on the recital, and asked if I were going to record it. "Post it to Youtube." Right now, my Youtube channel consists of only a single recording (I think, it's been awhile) of me attempting Limbo last summer. Might be time to add some content.
- Aw2pp, who is all about the Requirements Author's Workbench
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