hacklog

It’s simple really:

You have two sides, one out in the field and one in. Each man that’s in the side that’s in goes out, and when he’s out he comes in and the next man goes in until he’s out. When they are all out, the side that’s out comes in and the side thats been in goes out and tries to get those coming in, out. Sometimes you get men still in and not out.

When a man goes out to go in, the men who are out try to get him out, and when he is out he goes in and the next man in goes out and goes in. There are two men called umpires who stay all out all the time and they decide when the men who are in are out. When both sides have been in and all the men have out, and both sides have been out twice after all the men have been in, including those who are not out, that is the end of the game!

That’s an old joke that lives on tea towels.

Bruce, if you need more details, try here.

On a related note, what’s the most common owl in England?

Purdy writes a great article in this morning’s Merc’ about how the Sharks can win.

As he points out, over the past 20 years, of the 68 teams that fell behind 3-0, none has rallied to even reach a Game 7.

But, “…of those 68 teams that fell behind 3-0 and went on to lose the series, 53 were the lower seed. So they weren’t supposed to win, anyway. The remaining 15 teams far more commonly stretched out the series to five or six games.”

We can do this. Believe.

GO SHARKS!!!

It is foolish and childish, on the face of it, to affiliate ourselves with anything so insignificant and patently contrived and commercially exploitive as a professional sports team, and the amused superiority and icy scorn that the non-fan directs at the sports nut (I know this look — I know it by heart) is understandable and almost unanswerable. Almost. What is left out of this calculation, it seems to me, is the business of caring — caring deeply and passionately, really caring — which is a capacity or an emotion that has almost gone out of our lives. And so it seems possible that we have come to a time when it no longer matters so much what the caring is about, how frail or foolish is the object of that concern, as long as the feeling itself can be saved. Naivete — the infantile and ignoble joy that sends a grown man or woman to dancing and shouting with joy in the middle of the night over the haphazardous flight of a distant ball — seems a small price to pay for such a gift.

Go sharks.

Opening night at the Shark tank tonight. Sharks take on the Bruins.

Before the game there’ll be a ceremony honoring newly-retired ex-Sharks Bryan Marchment (right) and, the greatest Shark of all time, Mike Ricci.

Shout out to Drew who’ll be a game time scratch for this one. Feel better mate.

Holy Crap! We were playing darts tonight and T got a one hundred and frikkin’ eighty! Unheard of. Erm…hats off to T. (Did she just stick the darts in the board? Shame on you for thinking such a thing. I was outside when she did it though. No, she wouldn’t do that…or would she? No, she really wouldn’t.) Anyway, mine’s a Stella please…

Looking good fellas…GO SHARKS!