George Jensen  03/14/2003 10:18:41 AM

The writing shoes have gotten quite large of late and I don't know that I 
can fill them but I will give it a try.

This weeks curling game began earlier than usual, somewhere during 
mid-morning if I recall correctly,  as Bruce began lobbying to have the 
game cancelled due to its lateness and his need for sleep.  In any event, 
a few phone calls to the local pharmacies allowed us to secure enough 
Viagara to keep him up for the late game. 

Our opponents last night were the boys from the United Way and in the 
spirit of charity we let them win the coin toss and promptly gave them a 4 
in the first end.  Knowing our record when giving up a 4, our spirits were 
dampened and questions arose again as to why we didn't just cancel the 
game.  After rebounding with a nice little 3 ourselves in the second,  
Bruce decided to change the rules of curling and let the other team throw 
first rock thus keeping the hammer to ourselves.  So convincing was Bruce 
that the other team in fact thought this was the correct approach.  It was 
up to me, the lowly lead+ (the plus is for throwing 3 rocks over the 
customary 2), to point out to everyone that the team scoring points in an 
end throws first rock in the next end.    A nice little steal of 2 for us 
in the third put us up 5-4 but our trip to the front was short lived as we 
gave up another 3 in the 4th.  Not get too dejected, we blanked the 5th 
allowing us to regroup for the push to the finish.    Somewhere along the 
way (it was late and I don't remember exactly when OK!) , Bruce's chemical 
boost began to wear off as evidenced by the softening of his sweeping 
stroke.    I quickly rushed down the ice to give him a hand (in sweeping 
that is) only to lose my balance, half fall down and proceed to burn the 
rock.   I think that was the same end that Mauro's draw weight barely 
crossed the hog line and his guard weight took the rock through the 
parking lot onto the ice of the old canal.    Needless to say, our 
collective ages were showing through as the clock ticked on.   A round of 
little blue pills rekindled our spirits, and not to mention, straightened 
our strides and brought us up to within 1 coming home with the hammer.   
We skillfully got one rock into position for the tying point and it came 
down to Mauro's last rock for the win, a simple come-around, angled raise 
for a deuce.  

Well, like the commercial says, "It's a game of inches" and on the last 
rock the only inches in play were Bruce's chemically enhanced ones.  It 
was a valiant effort for 2 but in the end we settled for 1 and an 8-8 tie 
with 4 1/2 ends.  Bruce rushed home without regard for the after-game 
comradery in order to save what was left of his "wakening" experience.  

PS.  Bruce,  What's with the limp today ?