I love music and dancing, ice cream and bread. I hate the treadmill. I didn’t want to give up ice cream and bread. So I started taking Zumba classes last March at the YMCA.The problem was that Zumba was really for women, all ages, all sizes and shapes. How does a guy walk into a class of 30 women without feeling conspicuous, even resented? You can’t. So I always stood in the back row trying my best to be unobtrusive. I think it worked for the most part. But in the first few classes it was a constant effort to be facing 30 female asses and not stare, or appear to the ladies not to be staring. I didn’t want to make them uncomfortable. More importantly, since I really liked Zumba, I wanted to learn the repetitive typical Zumba dance steps that all the instructors incorporate into their routines. To do that, I had to focus on the instructors. I had to watch them, keep my eyes on them, not the butts in front of me. And that’s what I did. It’s now been 8 months and I’m going to 5 classes per week. I’ve learned basic Zumba steps. I see the same women, but I still don’t know anyone because Zumba ladies aren’t that friendly to me. It’s understandable. Maybe they’re wary of the rare guy in their midst. Although now, after several months, I do get the occasional “hi”. And I did get a “How was your Thanksgiving?” the other night. That was nice, and an indication that I have broken the ice somewhat, and maybe I’ve been accepted as dedicated to being there for the right reasons. That’s okay. I’m not there for social reasons. I’m there so I can continue to eat ice cream and bread. You know, eat like I’m 21. It’s a guy thing. I’m certainly not there to lose weight. That’s one thing I have in common with the ladies. They don’t lose weight either. Those that are naturally thin, stay thin. Those that are not so thin, are still not so thin. Maybe that’ll be my next goal, to lose weight. Come to think of it, that might not go over so well with the ladies. That’ll really ostracize me. They’ll think I’m a real A-hole. Usurping, intruding on their thing. And losing weight too. Drats. Hey, what can I say? Zumba’s my life. Seriously, at this point, I’ve learned many of the repetitive dance steps. I can hold my own. Sometimes I even move up from the last row, which is the row for beginners and those with no rhythm. You know, the horrible Elaine Bennis dancers. The instructor goes right, and they go left.
And then there is the front row. The front row is always, from first grade on, the row of the miss perfect. Always with the right answers, always the teacher’s pet.
The front row seems to be reserved for the best dancers, the women who know all the steps or learn the new steps annoyingly fast. But there is one dance step that almost all women, no matter what age or shape, can do great that most men can’t. I call it the humping move. When I try the humping move, I look like Peewee Herman. Women, on the other hand, can really move their hips and asses. No matter what size or shape, women can do the humping move way better than men, unless you’re Derek Hough. It just comes naturally to them, God bless em.

So there you have it. I love Zumba, but there are unwritten rules for men who have the temerity to try it: Stand in the back. Focus on the teacher. Don’t stare at butts. Learn the repetitive moves. Don’t expect to make any friends. And for sure, don’t lose any weight.

Sammy. The Samster, died this week. He was a great little doggie. I always thought he looked like a scruffy 3 legged Terrier. But his family thought he was the best looking dog around. Ya, okay, I admit it. He was cute enough. And he had 4 legs. But, come on. You can’t compare his looks to my two Italian Greyhounds, Gina and Tony. Ok ok, Sammy was a riot, a funny, zany presence at holidays. Always running around in circles driving Gina and Tony crazy. Even though there were times when he looked deranged, Sammy was a really smart dog. Way smarter than Gina and Tony. Yes, Sammy was smart and had quite the personality. But Gina and Tony had the looks.

All three, and all loved dogs are great in their own way. They have special places in our hearts for different reasons. And, like all great dogs, they lived for us. God put them on earth to be one with us, to be part of our families. They live to be near us, to fetch the ball and the stick, to make us laugh even when we want to cry. And when the day is ending, to cuddle with us on the couch. They feel safe there, touching us. And we do too. Those last moments of the evening, stroking them, gives us a sense that we got through one more day, that everything is ok, maybe just for that day.

I’ve loved dogs all my life, from Rin Tin Tin to Lassie, from My Dog Skip to the War Dogs. Toby, in the movie Used Cars. What a dog! But because of my asthma, I couldn’t have one. But then I did. First Gina, then Tony. I’d look into Gina’s eyes and I knew that we had a special bond. I knew she trusted me more than anyone. Actually, she didn’t have that great of a personality. She was royalty, a high strung diva. But all beautiful ladies are. She looked like Audrey Hepburn, with her graceful long neck. My beauty passed two years ago.

Tony on the other hand was a handsome burly boy. He didn’t really look like a miniature greyhound. Too heavy. He looked like a cross between a beagle, a dachshund, and a middle linebacker. Hey, he wasn’t fat, he was husky, and tough. He would take on any dog no matter how big. Last year, a few days before he died, he sat contentedly on my lap while I stroked him. He never sat still like that on anyone’s lap. But he was old and tired. He knew.
For some reason, they know and we don’t. Maybe we just don’t want to face the reality that we’re going to always outlive them, because they give us so much. They just don’t outlive us. They break our hearts.

Why does the CBS broadcast go to former official Mike Carey? He always confirns the ref’s call on the field. I just saw the Rams safety hit a Broncos receiver, Sanders, with a violent but legal hit. So what does Carey say? Gibberish. He completely misinterpreted the call. So he just used gibberish. He’s the CBS expert! What a joke! Even the CBS analyst said it was a legal hit.  Shoulder to shoulder. Violent but legal.  Replay clearly showed it. Let’s face it, these network guys are company men. Boring and predictable, and  embarrassingly pro league. At least I’ll give the analyst credit. But most broadcasters would not contradict referees’ calls. They’re not paid to do that. Phil Simms rarely says anything that’s not obvious to the experienced fan. And never calls out even the most egregious ref call. And he’s the number one guy. Enuf said.

When I saw the list of receivers who caught 50 touchdowns in the fewest number of games: Lance Alworth, Randy Moss, Jerry Rice, Rob Gronkowski, it dawned on me. Gronk is going to the Hall of Fame! Already, in his short career, he’s done enough, even with his injuries in the last two years.
I’ve seen them all in the last 50 years. My earliest memory was the 1958 Championship game. Colts beat the Giants in overtime. Don’t remember who were the tightends. But I do remember John Mackey,  Mike Ditka, Kellen Winslow, Shannon Sharpe, Mark Bavaro,  Dave Casper, Jackie Smith (even though he dropped an easy TD pass from Roger Staubach in the Super Bowl), today’s Antonio Gates, Jason Witten, Tony Gonzalez, and really good ones like Ben Coates, Russ Francis. Gronk is better than all of them. Trust me.
I guess the best of the HOFs tightends would be the great John Mackey. Big strong athletic, defenders bouncing off him. But Gronk is better. The best tightend to ever play. Enjoy him while you can.
BTW, my twenty something nephews and friends were discussing the best receivers of ALL time, and naturally they left out the greats from before their time. They brought up Rice and Moss, and today’s monsters, but never heard of Lance Alworth! I didn’t expect them to go back to, or even think of Tommy MacDonald, Homer Jones, Raymond Berry, Don Maynard, Cliff Branch, Fred Biletnikof, or way back to Don Hutson. I’m  talking Lance Alworth, aka Bambi, who ran and leaped like a Gazelle, graceful as a deer, was an acrobat in the air, uncoverable. Let’s face it. 20 somethings should defer to us 60 somethings when debating the best of ALL time in sports.

I forgot what crappy music the Bruins play with10 minutes to go before the teams take the ice to start the game. I’m here at Islanders game waiting for this inexorable droning repetitive sound to end. I will make it to face off. I’ve done it before. But it is  annoying. Don’t they pay someone to make  the pregame presentation? If they do, they shouldn’t.

Two weeks later. Bruins vs Edmonton. SAME horrible, repetitive, annoying music. Drove me out of my seat. I’d rather stand in the hallway watching fans stuff hot dogs and nachos down their throats, slurping two beers at a time, than be subjected to that noise. Bruins, please fire your musical director!

Watching The Good Wife last night. Typical Network TV bedroom scene. Booooring. It’s supposed to be steamy. But it always, always shows the woman wearing her bra during the sex act. Ridiculous! What woman wears her bra while having sex in a bed? Here’s my suggestion to make the show less hokey: skip the bedroom scene.

James Develin!!!! On 3rd and 1!!!! What the F!!!!!!  Nice call Josh. Another case of you’re so smart you’re stupid. How to kill an important early game drive on the road. And Bill doesn’t cover himself with glory going for the field goal on 4th and short. Perfect time to go for it. Give Tom a chance to get into the intensity of the game with a QB sneak. But noooo, Bill plays it conservative and Pats give him a well deserved field goal screwup. Oh well, if Bills can really beat us with Kyle Orton………you finish the sentence.

You’re down TWO runs in the eighth inning. Kinsler on first, Hunter up, no outs. On deck, the best right handed run producer in baseball, the fearsome Miguel Cabrera. What does the Detroit’s first-year manager do? Hit and run!!?? Huh?? Are you serious Brad Ausmus?  Sometimes you’re so smart, you’re stupid.

Nothing’s wrong with Tom. But there’s a lot wrong with the Pats. Not the players. They’re okay. But Pats management. That’s another story. As players get older, they can’t do physically what they used to in their prime. It’s a natural progression. Nature. Forget the Barry Bonds of the sports world. He wasn’t real life. But I think Tom is in better physical shape now than when he came out of college. His body and arm are stronger.
But Pats management has not given him the receivers that he deserves. Could you imagine Peyton Manning throwing to this motley crew without complaining, LOUDLY? No chance.
So there’s nothing physically wrong with Tom. But mentally, that’s another story. He’s pissed!! And rightly so. Plenty of cap space. Terrible offensive line. Terrible receiving group. Where’s Reche Caldwell when you need him?
Okay Tom. Here’s your criticism. Because your arm is now so strong, you can throw the long pass like an arrow. Ease off that. Throw a duck up there like Manning and Flacco. Give the ref a chance to bail you out. Give your great athletic, big and strong wide receiver a chance to make a great catch. Dez Bryant. Calvin Johnson. Andre Johnson. Larry Fitzgerald, Nelson. Jackson. Thomas. Smith. Bowe. Jacoby and Julio Jones. AJ Green. Marshall. Gordon. White. Patterson………..Oh yeah, you don’t have one of those.

We will. Like we’ll always love Bobby Orr, The Big Bad Bruins.  Russ, Cooz, Hondo, Big Red, Larry. Yaz, Tony C and the 67 Sox, Papi. Adam, Bruschi.
Well, if I absolutely had to, I could cut it to Tom Brady and Bobby Orr.  Tom and Bobby may be imperfect human beings, but they are perfect sports heroes. We’ll always love Bobby Orr for what he did on the ice and his presence off the ice.
Tom’s like that. From day one he gave us hope, then he gave us championships. Especially the first one. Remember how we felt when Tom drove the Pats down the field in the last minute.
Not sure nonsports fans can fathom the depth of our despair over the years, the decades: 1975, Sugar Bear Hamilton, Bucky Dent, 1986 (that really, really hurt). Now, we’re proud  Pats fans. We expect Super Bowls. We’re proud Boston fans. We expect championships. Tom opened the championship floodgates. And Tom always carries himself and speaks with class.He’s GQ handsome, a family man, kinda pretty wife. What’s not to love?!
So it kills me to think of life on Sunday mornings in the fall without Tom Brady.
But, we have to face the future. Who’s going to be the man who takes Tom’s place? Are we that spoiled and naive to expect another Tom. Come on! Can our Bill actually draft another Tom?  I mean another Tom in ALL respects.
Is he movie star handsome? Does he have elite talent? Does he say all the right things?
Jimmy  Garopollo, step forward.  You have a huge burden. You’ll have our football hearts and minds in your hands some day. You already have the dreamy looks ( that’s how he’s described by women who keep a worn paperback of 50 Shades of Grey by their bed). Someday, but not right away, you’ll need a beautiful wealthy supermodel girlfriend. And you gotta win championships.  Only then will you be ready for us to compare you to  our Tom. To fill the void in our hearts.
But sadly, there never has been another Bobby Orr.