At What Cost? Remembering Rocky Wirtz

Remembering Rocky Wirtz and the official end of the "One Goal" era. An editorial by Alex B. Smith (@axsmithsports)

Trigger Warning: This article includes a brief mention of Sexual Assault, 

and the subject of death and parental loss. 

I'm sitting here just after 11pm on Tuesday, July 25th, 2023, writing this from Saint Paul, Minnesota while staring across from two flags that proudly hang on my apartment wall. To the right, the City of Chicago Flag, and to the left, the championship banner for the 2010 Stanley Cup Champion Chicago Blackhawks. Bordered in red, with the traditional flat black font and the Indian Head logo in front of Lord Stanley's Cup. 

June 9th, 2010 is one of those nights I'll never forget. Forward Patrick Kane forever became "PATRICK FUCKING KANE!!!" in the most loving and respectful way after he slid the puck past goaltender Michael Leighton to eliminate the Philadelphia Flyers in overtime of Game Six to bring that Stanley Cup title to Chicago for the first time since 1961. I screamed, I cried, I drank and sang and danced in the streets, as did many of Chicago that night. Did I mention I turned 21 the night before that?

A lot of events took place to lead up to that winning moment. Before Kane scored in Game Six in Philly. Before Dustin Byfuglien became the hero in both the Vancouver and San Jose series. Before Marian Hossa earned his quick redemption in OT (with help from Sir Patrick tying the game late) against Nashville. Before the great regular season run, before the Playoff push in 2009, before Joel Quenneville replace Denis Savard, Before Patrick Kane made his Hawks debut and Jonathan Toews became captain after his rookie season. Before "One Goal" and all the commercials, before All Home Games on Television. We have to go to another date, one dark day for the family members that run the organization. 

September 26th, 2007.

It's 4:30am in the morning, on a Wednesday. I'm an 18-year old kid waking up early despite being on my break after graduating High School. When I would wake up that early, I used to watch "Barely Today", which was a local morning show on NBC-5, hosted by longtime former sports anchor Bruce Wolf. Reading the news crawl at the bottom of the screen, I see the report that longtime Chicago Blackhawks owner Bill Wirtz had passed away. 

Now, as with most people, when you hear of someone death, you tend to think of how sad that moment is for the family of the deceased, and their sorrow and mourning. However, for Hawks fans who had witness their beloved franchise whittle down into the laughing stock of not just the National Hockey League, but all of sports when ESPN named the team "The Worst Franchise in Sports" and Wirtz one of the "Greediest Owners" for his many stubborn business decisions that compromised chances for the club to win, along with alienating former and current players along with the entire fan base. Not showing home games on television, refusing to budge on ticket packages and tiers until the squad was so bad, people would buy lower-level seats and move to the front row by the middle of the 2nd Period. Wirtz had become Enemy #1 to Hawks fans, and his death brought more elation than sorrow amongst us. I woke up my father, who would normally get up around that time to go work in the Emergency Room over at South Shore Hospital. I ran into his room, and calmly woke him up. "Dad, guess what? Bill Wirtz died." 

Now my father, who became a fan of hockey because of me, reacted to this like a normal person, replying "I'm sorry to hear that" as he wakes up to put on his glasses. "This might be the turnaround this franchise needs." I said back. Now, I don't question you for seeing this as cold and callous. Quite frankly, it is. But I knew deep down in my soul, that with the old regime finished, this magnificent franchise could rise to power once again amongst the elite in the National Hockey League. 

That week, the power of ownership & control of the Chicago Blackhawks, which had been left to son Peter Wirtz, who then handed over the keys to his brother, W. Rockwell Wirtz, who everyone knew as "Rocky"

Under Rocky's controls, things began to change overnight with the organization. Bob Pulford, longtime member of the club under many titles and capacities, and the most loyal member of the dubbed "Wirtz Army", was demoted and John McDonough was brought in from the North Side Baseball Club to bring new vision to a group that had been set in their ancient ways. A new promotional campaign was rolled out. No more "Restore the Roar" or "Cold Steel on Ice", It was now "One Goal". And that one goal, specifically, was to bring a championship back to 1901 West Madison Avenue. 

All games were to now be shown on television. For just two seasons prior, one of the first highlight-reel goals scored by Johnathan Toews, was only seen by people living in the Chicagoland area after the game ended, on newscasts and later replays on the team's website. Now, Blackhawks fans could follow their team even if they didn't have the time or means to go to the United Center.

Cut to ten days later. My Dad and I are at 1901 West Madison. He, in his black 3rd jersey and me wearing my new #88 jersey for the rookie making his home debut, Patrick Kane. Not only are we opening the year against our most hated rival, the Detroit Red Wings, but there's the pre-game ceremony to start the season, which now includes a brief tribute and a moment of silence to honor the departed owner's passing. Well, with a packed crowd of 22,000+ people (which at those times, only happened whenever Detroit came to town) that tribute wasn't exactly well received by many fans and while my father and I both stood and watched in silence, we heard the boos rain down from the 300 level to the club sections all the way to the ice level. And in that moment, I remember looking at the faces of Rocky Wirtz and John McDonough, and saying to my dad, "I think they knew this was to be expected." Chicago won that game in a shootout by a final score of 4-3. The winning tally in that extra frame was scored by none other than the rookie, Patty Kane. 

That season, the Blackhawks made big strides and improved to one of their best records since the 2001-02 season, but missed the postseason again. Cut to the next year, when the club continued to grow in popularity, rolling in the right direction, reaching the playoffs, beating the Calgary Flames in the Conference Quarterfinals and the Vancouver Canucks in the Conference Semis, where in Game Six, I was in attendance for my first ever playoff game with my mother, who had just started watching from the year prior. Patrick Kane scored a hat trick and the Hawks won 7-4. To hear the United Center that loud for the first time in person, a building that was filled with no more than 5,500 people on most game nights when I attended, and to see the majority of the crowd in their red, white and black jerseys waving the red rally towels, it brought me to tears. Things were finally on the right track.

Unfortunately, there's always a bump in the road, and that one was, the Detroit Red Wings, who knocked the Hawks out in 5 games of the Western Conference Final. Despite the elimination, we all were waiting for next year to roll around, thinking we can reach that higher level and at least get to the Stanley Cup Final.

Moving away from Chicago to Saint Paul in 2009, officially leaving home on January 2nd, the day after the Hawks lost to Detroit in their first ever appearance in the NHL's Winter Classic outdoor game, I got to catch games on TV whenever I had the time thanks to digital cable. Once the club made the playoffs (and winning the Central Division, no less) I spent nearly every minute of every postseason game on my couch, watching while talking on the phone with my mom. 

Nashville eliminated in Six Games.

Vancouver eliminated in Six Games. 

San Jose Swept in Four Games.

The Chicago Blackhawks won the Clarence Campbell Bowl for the first time since 1992 and were going to meet with the Philadelphia Flyers in a best-of-seven series for the chance to end the drought and complete the One Goal. 

Hawks win games 1 and 2 at home, Flyers take games 3 and 4 at home before the Hawks beat Philly 7-4 in Game 5. 

Arrive back to June 9th, 2010. Overtime, Patrick Kane along the short side, skating around the back of the net. Where's the puck? Is it? it's in the net??

The goal counts. Hawks Win and the celebration is on in full effect. Jonathan Toews does his grand duty as Captain and lifts the Stanley Cup over his head. As each member of the team gets their moment with the trophy and with all of the crying and hugging and celebrating, nearly everyone basking in this moment was unaware of a heinous crime that had taken place in the midst of this playoff run. It would be over a decade later before the world knew about Kyle Beach, a draft prospect, who had been harassed and later, sexually assaulted by the team's video coach, Brad Aldrich. Rather than disrupt the motion of the club, the few members who knew of this incident kept quiet on the matter and after the season, gave Aldrich a chance to resign, which he did. Three years later, Aldrich is arrested in Michigan for sexual contact with a minor while working as a coach with a High School team. This led to him serving a feeble nine months in prison and five years of probation. Meanwhile, Kyle Beach's career was ruined, along with having to carry the pain of being victimized and no one seemingly knowing or caring about the incidents that took place, along with the young child who was abused in Michigan and an incident that cost him his job in 2012 with Miami University of Ohio, where a player came forward with complaints of sexual misconduct. 

In the shadows of victory, came this darkness that the team glossed over as a "Cost of Doing Business". As time went on, the Blackhawks continued their work on the ice, making the playoffs in each of the next seven seasons, winning two more Stanley Cups in 2013 and 2015 and cementing the "One Goal" era as a true Dynasty in the National Hockey League. Patrick Kane had morphed into a legendary superstar, Jonathan Toews into an natural leader, and the franchise was on top of the Hockey world.

All while this took place, atop the concourse in section 119, sat Rocky Wirtz. He didn't hide in a luxury box or in an office, he sat with the fans, always willing to say hello or shake a hand. From the reports that surfaced in 2021, it was said that Wirtz was not one of the people alerted of the incident in 2010 at that time, which can not be said for head coach Joel Quenneville, assistants John Torchetti and Mike Havland, along with general manager Stan Bowman and assistant GM Al MacIssac.

As time went on, the Salary Cap crunch, which hits all teams in the NHL, would eventually fall down hard on the Hawks. Players left, with their replacements not being able to reach the same level of competition, and the winning eventually came to an end around 2018-19. Save for a random playoff berth awarded to the Hawks in 2020 after the COVID-19 pandemic shut down the world, and a qualifying round series win over Edmonton before losing to Vegas in the "First Round", the "One Goal" dynasty was fading, and when the news of the report and scandal broke on October 26th, 2021, Bowman and MacIssac were fired from the organization, Quenneville, who had moved on to the Florida Panthers head job, was let go, and Brad Aldrich's name was carved out of the Stanley Cup in a row of XXXXXXX's, permanently putting a stain on what had been a pivotal moment in Blackhawks history.

Another change that had been made was the increased role of leadership up front by Danny Wirtz, Rocky's son. He handled the microphone when questions came flying about the incident, and Rocky, who notably refused to talk about it during a "Town Hall" meeting on the state of the franchise, had seemingly become a dark figure, despite the reports stating he had no previous knowledge of the incident. Many, including myself, find it very difficult to believe that someone in the chair of power with an professional sports team would be left in the dark on any company business. 

Cut to today. Well, tomorrow. It's now July 26th, 2023.

The Chicago Blackhawks are looking to restore their glory on the ice once again, while needed a fresh start and change in their front office. The team landed the first overall pick in the 2023 NHL Draft, selecting highly-touted superstar Connor Bedard. He's the first Blackhawks pick at #1 since 2007, when the team selected Patrick Kane. And just months before the start of the season, the team's owner passes away. Rocky Wirtz was 70 years old when he died at NorthShore Hospital, in Evanston. 

As someone who lost their father in 2021, I feel the pain for anyone who has been through that ordeal, and when I think about that late fall day in 2007, I don't have regrets about what I said regarding the organization. I knew things needed to change with the team, and it was quiet clear that despite the Wirtz family losing millions and millions over the years, they were never going to relinquish the franchise. What I do regret is the lack of compassion I had in my heart at that time for the surviving family members, and for that, while I cannot change it, I can express the true sadness that I feel now with the passing of Rocky Wirtz.

From a fan to an owner, I got to personally say "Thank You" to Rocky at a game after the 2010 season. He flashed his trademark smile and nodded as I headed on to the concession stand. Looking back now, from one grieving son to another, I should have also said, I'm Sorry. 

I don't know exactly what will take place on October 21st, when the Blackhawks play their first Regular Season game back at 1901 West Madison. I do know that the Hawks will take the ice, in their trademark Home Red jerseys, with a patch to honor their late owner with the #1 overall pick making his home debut. 

People rightfully have mixed emotions on Rocky's passing, in the same way people had when Bill passed. I don't know if someone will boo during the moment of silence or ignore the ceremony altogether. I don't know if this change will signal the same rise to power we once saw a decade ago.

What I do know is that whenever you walk into the United Center, and you sit in any seat in that building, when you look at the rafters, you see the banners. 

Chicago Blackhawks 2010 Stanley Cup Champions. 

Chicago Blackhawks 2013 Stanley Cup Champions. 

Chicago Blackhawks 2015 Stanley Cup Champions.

Three Championships that I never thought would ever come to fruition when I was growing up watching the team lose night after night in front of 5,000 fans. And Three Championships that thankfully, my father got to see before he died.

I guess when you look at it, I saw things on that day in 2007 as "The Cost of Doing Business", the same way this franchise saw it during 2010. I don't say that to absolve anyone, least of all myself, for viewing things in that shallow of a light. I will not boo Rocky Wirtz at his memorial, the same way I didn't boo on October 6th, 2007. But I think people would understand for the folks who might voice that displeasure. Just don't lose sight of the fact that he had a family, who loved and cared for him, regardless of this game we love called Hockey. 

Rest In Peace, William Rockwell "Rocky" Wirtz.

October 5th, 1952 - July 25th, 2023.

Basketball in My Life

I'm writing this in St. Paul, in the wee hours of January 27th, 2020. Over 12 Hours after the world learned of the sudden death of NBA Legend Kobe Bryant, who at 41 years old, along with his 13-year old daughter Gianna, and 7 others, perished in a helicopter crash in Calabasas. Kobe & Gianna were on their way to her game, where Kobe was to be coaching.

I found out these tragic details 2 hours after it happened. I awakened from a nap, aided due to being sick with the flu and pushing through a diet of medication, water, and Ginger Ale. I tell you this because this flu has delayed my own travels. I am going home to Chicago to be with my family as my grandmother, 90 years old, passed away after months of serious illness.

These two stories intertwine because they have a common theme shared, in the love of the game of Basketball.

I was born in Chicago, in June of 1989. The night that I arrived into the world, Game 2 of the NBA Finals had tipped off. Joe Dumars scored 33 points as the Detroit Pistons won 108-105 and took a 2-0 series lead over Magic Johnson and the Los Angeles Lakers. The Pistons would go on to win the NBA Title in a 4-game sweep less than a week later. Before that series, my family was watching those "Goddamn Pistons" (my Mom's words) beat His Airness Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls in the Eastern Conference Finals.

I would soon learn, in the same rapid pace that I did to walk, eat, & talk, that in my family, one of the most important things was Sports. And from every October to May (later on, into June), there were nights when dinner was made by Mom (or most times brought home by dad via takeout) & eaten between 5 & 6pm, any chores and cleaning or bath time had to be done after that because at 7:05pm, we were in the living room. The TV was on either Channel 9 or 28, and we sat together to watch the Chicago Bulls.

I was mesmerized by the Bulls intro. They would cut the lights at Chicago Stadium and as the ringing notes of "Sirius" by The Alan Parsons Project would blare through our speakers, they would show the uber-90's pixelated video of animal Bulls, turning through downtown Chicago, heading west onto Madison Avenue. And then the legendary voice of Ray Clay boomed. "AND NOW! The Starting Lineup! For Your! Chicago Bulls!!!!" And as he announced their position, college, height and name, the build-up peaked at the end. "From North Carolina! Head Guard! 6'6" Michael Jordan!!!" From that moment on, I was hooked. I would even get my parents to cut off the lights for every home game so that I could recite the lineup at the same time.

The Bulls were a way of life as a small child. You'd be hard pressed to find a photo of me between the ages of 2-8 NOT wearing the colors of Red, Black & White or an emblem that wasn't the Bulls logo. Every pair of Jordan's that dropped, I had them. And not in the crazy collector way that people wait in line and hoard them for years now, but it was because my mom wanted those shoes to match when I wore my #23 Jordan jersey at that given point in the season.

5 days after my 2nd birthday, there was a bigger celebration. The Bulls just beat the LA Lakers 108-101. Chicago just won the NBA Finals 4 games to 1 to clinch their first ever NBA World Championship. I remember the celebrations everywhere. My mom on the couch crying, my dad lighting his pipe and cracking open a bottle of Cook's champagne. The news showed people running into streets and cars being flipped over. Sure, some assholes made it a dark moment by firing off guns and looting stores, but once that night time hooliganism settled down, days later, on a sunny afternoon in Grant Park, there were the Bulls. Led by His Airness, carrying the Larry O'Brien Trophy, with a cigar in his mouth, and the whole team wearing T-Shirts with each player drawn in a caricature form. This was something that brought a city that is divided by so many factors, Race, Color, Religion & Neighborhood, together as one unit. That day, we all were just Chicagoans, celebrating our championship team.

As the next 2 years became a Rinse & Repeat cycle for the Bulls, winning Titles again in '92 and '93, my love for the team continued to grow. I kept wearing Red, Black & White. We kept eating dinner before 7 and the Bulls kept winning. Then came the morning of Wednesday, October 6th, 1993.

Breaking News Special Report from Channel 5 News: After 9 Years in the NBA, Michael Jordan walks away from Basketball, Retiring at the age of 30.

I was between pre-schools at the time (Long story that you'll have to read my autobiography in order to hear all about that) and I remember being at home watching that hour-long press conference. Still at the edge of the bed in my parent's room. My dad was at work, in the emergency room and so he didn't know until getting home later that night. My mom was on the bed in tears watching this. Ironically enough, we had just suffered a death in our family with my great uncle passing away, but I didn't know him personally well. This hit me with shock that I had never felt before. I was confused as to why he was walking away and I was saddened because I saw how upset mom was hearing this news.

After that moment and as pre-season began, we still wore our Red, Black & White. We still ate Dinner before 7, but things were different. I didn't want to turn out the lights for the starting line-up. I couldn't get used to the fact that Pete Myers was our "Head Guard" now. Sure we still had Scottie Pippen and B.J. Armstrong and we keep hearing great things about this European guy named Kukoc. The Bulls went 55-27 that season and made it all the way to Game 7 of the Eastern Conference Semifinals against New York, when the aforementioned Pippen was fouled but the call was missed, the Knicks take a lead late and with an 87-77 finals score, the Bulls missed their first Conference Finals appearance since 1988.

Here's a good time to give you a brief introduction about my grandmother, or "Granny" as I always called her (and will continue to do so for the duration of this story)

Granny was a big sports fan like everyone else in the family. Her husband, John (who I called "John" instead of Grandpa because I always heard her yell his name out. This upset my mom and my uncles, but he was fine with it.) Played baseball in the Negro Leagues for a few seasons. She used to watch the games down in Mississippi and when they moved to Chicago with my mom in 1955, and 2 more children later, it was a foregone conclusion that the only things that were on TV outside of nightly shows & the news were sports. White Sox games during the summer, Bears games in the fall. My grandparents even watched some Blackhawks games at times, despite the fact that neither of them knew what was going on. Granny always would say, "I just like to watch 'em skate and fight."

So when Jordan-Mania took hold of the City in the Mid-80's, my family was All In. It was my oldest uncle who told my mom back in 1982, "I know you don't watch College Ball, but remember the name Michael Jordan. He's gonna be great someday." Over the years, my family embraced this squad and also grew massive hatred for their rivals. Whether or not it was Granny calling Knicks center Patrick Ewing "That ole' gorilla-faced boy", a 2-part insult because she couldn't quite pronounce "Ewing" and because, well he wasn't exactly a GQ model either. Or the first time I ever heard my mom call someone a bitch outside of a car was when she referred to Indiana Pacers star Reggie Miller ("I can't stand him, he's a bitch, all he does is bitch, bitch to the refs...")

If you've ever wondered why I often sound like a sailor with Tourette's, be it whenever I speak or write, look no further than the Phillips side of my family tree.

So as 1994 turned into 1995, I got older and started watching more and more sports like Boxing (another family tradition with my mom and dad) and Hockey (which outside of the random times my grandparents stumbled upon it, no one in my family actually watched "That game on ice with all white people." But that's another story for another time. Then came the Fax Heard 'Round The World.


"I'm Back."


After a brief, random stint playing baseball with the White Sox AA-affiliated Birmingham Barons, Michael Jordan hung up the cleats & glove in exchange for his own signature sneakers, returning to the Bulls in the Middle of the '95 season, leading the club all the way to the Eastern Conference Final before Shaq & the Orlando Magic derailed the comeback trail. (Both important notes to remember)

Things were at a fever pitch to start that 1995-96 season. With Jordan back for a full season and the addition of "Crazy Ass" Dennis Rodman, as most of my family would refer to the multi-color haired rebound wizard, it seemed like the Bulls were back on top. But no one expected the complete dominance they displayed nearly every single night en route to a 72-10 record. (since eclipsed by a 73-9 Golden State Warriors team a couple of seasons ago that lost the NBA Finals, blowing a 3-1 lead by the way)

It was Pandemonium, Happiness and Unity in the City Beautiful all over again. June came and the parades in Grant Park took place after my 7th, 8th and 9th birthdays as the Bulls clinched another 3-Peat. (© Pat Riley) However, as things were winding down on that 97-98 team, rumblings were made about how they wouldn't stick together after the season because Head Coach Phil Jackson was going to resign and Michael Jordan said he's never playing for another coach again. The writing was on the wall for the magic to again come to a close.

I mention Magic and how the Playoffs would run into my birthday. When I turned 8, my parents took me to Disney World, which for every other 8-year old on planet Earth would be a megadream come true. Problem was, I was no regular 8 year old, I barely watched Disney programs and while wearing my usual Bulls attire, I had some asshole Orlando Magic fan who was on the clock as Chip (or Dale, one of the rodents. Doesn't fucking matter) take my cap and throw it to the ground. My mom saw the rage fill up in my face as I wanted to fight an adult dressed as a mascot on my birthday. Anyways, back to the Bulls

The landscape of things were changing in the NBA in 1998. There was a work stoppage looming, and tons of new, talented faces were coming into the league like Kevin Garnett, a South Carolina native who played in Chicago for his senior year of High School before getting drafted by Minnesota and the young son of a former NBA Journeyman who grew up traveling the world before settling down in his hometown of Philly. He too, would enter the NBA straight out of High School. His name, Kobe Bryant.

As I was beginning to enter my teens, I went through changes like any other child. I wanted to dress differently, pleading with my mom to buy me clothes that weren't always Red, Black & White and instead wearing jerseys from other teams that I would see from games or highlights on SportsCenter. "Mom, Shaq is going to the Lakers. Can I get his jersey, please!?" And just like that, among the Red and White and Black #23, #33, #91 and #7 jerseys was a gold #34 Shaquille O'Neal jersey.

When MJ hung up his signature sneakers for the 2nd (and what still to this day feels like the final time. We really don't count those 2001 days with the Wizards) My mother also seemingly retired from her long post as a Bulls fan. The team was reduced to rubbish as became an instant cellar-dwelling club under Tim Floyd as coach and while everyone else withdrew from them, Granny stayed loyal. She watched through the years of Jay Williams becoming a literal draft bust due to an unfortunate motorcycle accident, Ron Artest playing inconsistently while none of us knew he swapped his own Gatorade out for Hennessey. Elton Brand and Kirk Hinrich and Ben Gordon. It was brutal stuff, a clear 180* turn around from the days of Jordan & Pippen.

As my love for Hockey grew, I eventually started to quickly drift away from the hardwood. However, I was never completely away from it because my new hobby grew from something that I later would find out was a quiet family tradition: Gambling.

My grandfather, John, drove cabs during the week and would make side cash on the weekends playing in card games at houses, shooting pool at various halls or shooting dice on train trips through Wisconsin and Michigan. I recall my mom telling me about seeing John come home on Sunday nights. Most weekends, dumping tons of cash out of a pillowcase. Some weekends, he'd come home broke. A couple of occasions, Granny would have to bail him out of jail. Despite his side hustle, John never bet on sports. Mainly because of the rule regarding the sport he played, Baseball, forbid the act. His son, my uncle also played Baseball growing up, and to my knowledge, never bet on the game. And myself, who even with a fledgling attempt at pitching later on in H.S., to this day I don't handicap or wager on Baseball.

But Basketball was a completely different story. Every day, as a kid, I would love to read the newspaper. Always the Sun-Times, rarely the occasional Tribune or the Chicago Defender if I was over at Granny's house. The sports section always started in the back and I would read Right to Left and at the end of the section would be a tiny box with the lines and spreads for the games. Football, Baseball, Basketball and Hockey were always listed when applicable, sometimes boxing if there was a big fight on deck. I learned quickly how the point spread worked and once I got into high school, I caught the gambling bug. First tricking classmates into thinking I was a complete square bettor before then quickly building up a bankroll and then eventually booking games myself. It was a fun way to make it through a miserable point in my life where I had left my friends from Grammar School to go to an All-Boys, Catholic school in a completely different part of town. And over those years, that's when I got to take notice of the Post-Jordan Renaissance that was the NBA with Kobe and Shaq and KG and Allen Iverson and Vince Carter (who, at 44, is still in the league now as I write this) and what was once an clean, innocent love for the game has basically turned into a mercenary-like tolerance for the sport. The Bulls weren't good anymore so I only care about covering the spread. Besides, these guys might be good BUT they aren't Michael Jordan Good.

But as the 2000's moved along, and the growth of the internet and the cell phone came to be, Granny still had her Bulls. She too, was a gambler. She loved to spend time just across the Indiana border over at "The Boat", a term we still use now despite the fact none of the casinos have to be in the water of Lake Michigan anymore. Her and my mom would spend hours smoking their menthol cigarette brands of choice, spinning away change on the slot machines. And when they would get tired, they would go home. And Granny would most likely be getting to her TV by 7:05 so she could see those Bulls play.

Eventually, I Graduated High School (barely, with an exact GPA of 2.0, but an ACT score of 27 that thankfully helped me, along with learning how to play Bass Guitar during that decade, helped me get into College) and I moved from Chicago to St. Paul, Minnesota. And when College and Music didn't work out, I turned to my other hobby of Betting, which somehow led to the career I have now. And while I became famous for betting and handicapping Hockey and of course everyone bets Football, it was Basketball that really helped float my career and build my bankroll. I'll never forget Friday, January 21st, 2011. That day, I found out that in the middle of a 5-game road trip that many key players of the Utah Jazz had come down with stomach flu or food poisoning heading into Boston. The Celtics were laying -6 points with total of 193.5. I put down a ton of money on a Side/Total Parlay, not only because the information was strong, but also I knew that the money I had in my betting account wouldn't potentially be there much longer because of some legality issues with this particular book. Boston wins 110-86. Both Favorite and Over hits, and my buddy and I hit the strip club that night like the world was ending. I got paid my money days later before their shutdown, and I was able to take care of bills without an actual full-time job for awhile off that winner.

And even as things started to change in the NBA with teams playing lackadaisical defense, foul calls and reviews at an all time high and key players pulling out of game last minute quicker than they pull out of their side pieces the night before, while ironically calling the missed on-court action "Load Management", Betting on the NBA had become more difficult over the years. Meanwhile, back home, Granny still watched the games. No spreads or action required. Just enjoying two teams getting up and down the court. Even if the Bulls weren't on, she'd watched during the rebirth of the Lakers, with Kobe and Pau Gasol, the Dynasty of the San Antonio Spurs and the countless "Big 3" runs in Boston, Miami and Golden State.

Over the years, Granny suffered from rapid hearing loss and basically resorted to reading people's lips to understand them or having a notepad near her for communication. She became very ill just before this past Thanksgiving and spent 37 days in the hospital. When I flew home for the Christmas holiday, I saw her along with my mom and my 2 uncles. Her health was in a rapid decline and we knew that her time here on earth was nearing a close. While my mom and uncles put together the plans for her final days, making sure that she would have proper, comfortable care, Granny called me over to her hospital bedside, she asked me about 2 things. One, she had a taste for peanuts, so I made sure to bring a couple of small bags for her to eat. And two, she asked me when the Bulls were playing next. Using the same notepad that I am writing this story on, I typed out to her:

The Bulls beat Washington in Overtime last night. They play Detroit on Saturday.

She looked at my phone, then looked up to me and nodded in approval.

Christmas Day was the 2nd to last time I saw Granny, as we all gathered to her house, where she was transported and stayed until her passing on January 23rd, I made sure to go into her room and set the channel so she could watch the annual NBA marathon of games that take place on that day.

Flash forward to today. I write this with tears in my eyes for many reasons. Granny is gone. And in a sudden tragedy, Kobe Bryant and his daughter are gone. While it's to be expected that a 90-year old woman with health issues would pass away, it's a complete shock to hear of a 41-year old athlete and his 13-year old daughter to be taken away in that fashion.

I've realized in the last 2 weeks that I've been watching a lot more basketball than usual. A good chunk of it is still because of gambling. Football's wrapping up and I've been on a nice roll live betting on some of the TV games that air nationally. But what prompted me to write this was in realizing why I've been drawn back to basketball. Sometimes you just need something to bring back the memories. Even if it's not the days of Jordan & Pippen anymore.

R.I.P Kobe Bryant 1978-2020

R.I.P Verna "Granny" Phillips 1929-2020

Best Grammys Ever & 3 TV Shows You Need To Watch Right Now

This past Monday, the 58th Annual Grammy Awards were presented in LA and televised on CBS. Usually this would be an event that I would miss, just like any other award show, but since I was hungover from a long weekend and none of the hockey games that night were of the "Must-See" variety, I watched it and I'm really glad I did not miss out this year. In fact, it was hands down one of the best award shows I've ever seen. There were tons of tribute performances, since we've sadly lost many talented musical legends over the last few months, Most notably David Bowie, B.B. King and Lemmy Kilmister. My vote for top tribute of the night goes to Lady Gaga for her collage of David Bowie hits that featured super-producer Nile Rodgers playing guitar.

(Fun Fact: The guitar parts from Bowie's 1983 classic "Let's Dance" and other tracks from that album were actually recorded by late blues legend Stevie Ray Vaughan)

But without question the best performance of the night was Kendrick Lamar, who did a medley of "The Blacker The Berry", "Alright" and a freestyle that was centered around the tragic murder of Trayvon Martin. The imagery with Lamar walking at the front of a chain gang line and eventually onto the side stage with a traditional African bonfire and drum circle behind him was powerful enough to get across an important message, but still entertaining enough for some people to not feel "Uncomfortable", if you know what I mean.

Really, when you break it down, everyone's live performance was well done and entertaining. The only two exceptions would have to be Justin Bieber's abstract collaboration with Skrillex & Diplo and the television debut of the Hollywood Vampires, a "shit-show mash-up" "super-group" consisting of Alice Cooper, Joe Perry and... Johnny Depp? I don't know how this trio came together (The band was rounded out by long-time Cooper guitarist Tommy Henriksen and the Guns 'n' Roses rhythm section duo of Duff McKagan & Matt Sorum) but these vampires definitely need to be shown the daylight. Their cover of Motorhead's "Ace of Spades" was awful and Lemmy certainly deserved a better tribute than some hodgepodge garbage jam band.

Even with that Metal Abortion and the absurdity that was Taylor Swift winning Album of the Year (You won't convince me that "1989" was a better album than "To Pimp a Butterfly" AND "Beauty Behind The Madness", because it simply wasn't) This year's Grammys were by far the best award show we've seen in a long, long time.

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The Three Television Shows You Need To Be Watching Right Now

While it's always a bittersweet moment as the calendar turns into February and once the Super Bowl ends, you realize it will be around another 28 weeks before we see a live Football game on a Sunday. But one of the positives that emerge from a lack of pigskin viewing (other than having more time to recover from Saturday night parties) is that I have time to watch some Non-Sports Programming, even if only for a few hours a week. I'm super picky with what series I start to watch because I only have so much time to follow a few shows a year, and surprisingly, there are at least 6 shows that I am either currently watching or planning to watch in the next several months. Here are 3 new shows that I am watching right now that you need to watch as well:

1. "Billions", airs Sunday nights 10p ET/9p CT on Showtime.
This Power-Drama is centered in New York around Hedge Fund Billionaire Bobby Axelrod (played by Damian Lewis) who's power moves on Wall Street are being closely watched by U.S Attorney Chuck Rhoads (Paul Giamatti). This show is filled with great one-liners, double-crosses and some shockingly steamy sex scenes. It might be a bit hard to follow at times for those who haven't a clue how the stock market or hedge funds work, but it's nonetheless an entertaining hour of drama and suspense.

2. "Vinyl", airs Sunday nights 9pm ET/8pm CT on HBO
This show debuted this past weekend. Written by two legendary figures in director Martin Scorsese and Rolling Stones singer Mick Jagger, this show is about the Music scene in 1973 New York City from the eyes of record exec Richie Finestra (Bobby Cannavale) who's trying to save his company, American Century during a big shifting change of music styles all over the nation. A lot of the characters and scenes are based on true events and for music buffs like myself, this show is a really fun watch. It reminds me a lot of Mad Men, not only because the show is set in NYC and it basically picks up chronologically where the classic Ad drama leaves off, but the power tree of the workers at American Century and how they maneuver is very similar of how things operated at Sterling Cooper & Partners, except the Canadian Rye and Lucky Strike Cigarettes are replaced with Bolivian Marching Powder and Lemmon 714 Quaaludes (both seeming to be consistent staples in Scorsese works over the years)

3. "American Crime Story: The People vs O.J. Simpson", airs Tuesday nights 10p ET/9pm CT on FX
We head out to the West Coast circa 1994 as the deaths of Nicole Brown Simpson & Ron Goldman, and the subsequent mega-trial of former NFL running back O.J. Simpson are highlighted in this 10 part series. This wonderful All-Star cast features Cuba Gooding Jr. as "The Juice", John Travolta as his lead counsel Ron Shapiro, and David Schwimmer as Robert Kardashian (and yes, we see younger versions of his now infamous ex-wife and children in a few episodes). Despite being very young when this all really took place, I remember my folks being super interested in this whole debacle, so the nostalgia factor for me is pretty high, but even if you weren't alive for this historic event, this show is definitely worth viewing.

Resurrection.

Hello, Everybody.

It's been awhile since I last posted on CSTH. About 2 years. A lot of things have happened since late 2014. Some of it good, Most of it bad, a lot of it just as fucking crazy as you would expect. I'm not gonna recap a ton of it, but today we start off fresh and new.

Hell is back and hotter than ever.

There will be a couple of changes with the resurrection, for starters, There won't be much talk about Sports at all. Any sports stuff that is mentioned will be related to something within another topic (Teaser for a future post, I will discuss the morons who feel that Women shouldn't be talking sports, and why I highly disagree). But don't expect to see any kind of stats or analytical breakdowns, because I do enough of that during work hours (please do check out my Sports stuff at www.sportsmemo.com and axsmithsports.com)

Another change to expect will be more reviews of different things, like Bars & Restaurants in the Twin Cities area, as well as Music, Movie & Television reviews. Since I don't get to talk about Pop Culture stuff much during the day, this will be more of an outlet for those kind of fun topics.

Lastly, one promise that I will make to all of you that view this blog, it will have the same heartfelt, uncensored, and thought-provoking commentary that all of you so dearly loved years ago. If it sucks, y'all can tell me and I'll take this thing out back and put it out of it's misery.

Cheers, Folks. Nice to be back here on the baseline.

And remember, Keep your genitals out of harm's way.

aX


One More Note: I will leave the old articles up for those of you who have never seen this blog before. Some posts have been taken down. You weren't missing much from those.

Farewell...

A part of history took place on Thursday night in the Bronx as a Baseball Legend ended his reign at the only ballpark he's ever called Home on a game-winning base hit. Derek Jeter has been one of the game's most iconic players, and there was no other way his last game in Yankee Stadium could end without him making another magical hit, like he's done countless times in his 20-year career while donning pinstripes. On Saturday night, another legend of the game will say farewell to his longtime ballclub. Chicago White Sox slugger Paul Konerko will be honored throughout the evening on the South Side as he plays his last game of his storied career.

Now, as big of a Sox fan as I am, I know that Jeter's farewell is much larger than Paulie's. However, these are two great ballplayers who deserve all of the accolades and praise that will come from these farewell engagements. Many people can tell you where they were when they saw many of Derek Jeter's classic moments. His Homer in the 2001 World Series at the stroke of Midnight, crowning him as "Mr. November", or his epic leap into the stands against his rival Boston in 2007, or his record-breaking hit to make him the Yankees' all-time hit leader (which took place against my Pale Hose a few years ago). However, only a few can tell you about Paulie's great moments. The countless outs he recorded playing at First Base, which didn't end up on SportsCenter reels night after night. Or his majestic bombs out to the left field Bullpen, usually part of piecing together a comeback rally in a Mid-Summer evening affair as opposed to an October night. Oh, but Konerko saved his biggest moment for the Fall, as his iconic Grand Slam in Game 2 of the 2005 World Series will forever be lamented in White Sox lore as the seat in which the ball landed is still the same small blue seat it was during that Championship year.

The numbers are incredible for both competitors, but the reason why we are talking about these moments over and over. The reason why Jeter received gifts in Baltimore and Texas and why Konerko received gifts in Cleveland and Detroit, aren't just because of how well they played against those cities' ballclubs. It's because in the time and era in which they played, through the era clouded by Steroids, Contract disputes, Mega-Trades and a general decline in times for the game of Baseball, these two gentlemen played the right way, gave their all every single play in the field, every single at-bat, and every single second they put on their uniform. And in a time where Sports has been given a bad name by countless individuals who take for granted the opportunities they have, Sir Derek Jeter and Sir Paulie Konerko respected the game and did so with the utmost amount of love and humility.

No player will ever wear #2 in the Bronx again, and I'm fairly certain no player will ever don #14 on the South Side after Sunday's season comes to a close. And it's all with good reason. These two Legends gave us all so many great memories, those numbers will forever be synonymous with their club, their era, and the great game of Baseball.

I think, Derek's nephew Jalen says it best for all of us fans.

Farewell.

I Lost My (Food Truck) Virginity Today

So today is basically the first day of Summer. Or at least the first day it feels like Summer. After a horrendous Minnesota Winter, it's nice to be out in shorts and a t-shirt, and wear a pair of creeper shades to check out the skirts and dresses walking around town as well. To celebrate this nice Friday before Memorial Day, I clocked myself out of work early, took a nice shower and walked across the street to the park, where a small row of food trucks are always parked during the lunch hours. While these moving eateries have been all the craze for a couple of years now, I've never ordered a meal from one before. (My lunches usually consist of Subway eaten in the office, or Sushi & a couple martini's down the street)

I approach this baby-blue truck called Neato's Burgers, very reminiscent of the ice cream trucks that I rarely ever got to patronize as a youth ("You don't know what the hell is in those trucks!" My germaphobe Mom exclaimed), and I'm greeted with a moderate line of business people and hipster dog-walkers.. The menu is small, simple and to the point. Burgers, made with ground chuck and the usual array of toppings. French Fries, which are fried in Duck Fat and seasoned with Sea Salt, and Milkshakes, which came in either Strawberry or Chocolate Stout. I finally make my turn to order. I get a burger with ketchup and pickles, with a side of fries and a can of Root Beer (an order that immediately took me back to the mid-90's, when I would request the same selections whenever my folks grab burgers, which was often.). The wait wasn't long at all, considering the nice-sized crowd in front, which nearly doubled in the 4 minutes I waited for my meal. Once my food appeared, I scooted back over to my apartment and sat in my courtyard, ready to chow down. The burger was very tasty, juicy and well seasoned. But the star of the show is certainly the Duck Fat Fries. A lot of controversy is stirred up when you talk about the culinary usage of Duck (Foie Gras, anyone?) But this is a very solid match. The greasiness of duck lines up well with the hand-cut fries, almost giving it a bacon-like flavor (which Always works!) While it's not something an Olympic Runner would have in their standard diet, it's certainly a nice treat to nibble on here and there, and I will certainly make it back over to the Neato's truck again this summer.

A Bunch of Awesome Videos from This Week

There have been way too many good videos online this week to not share with everyone on the Blog, so here they are:

Here's a Pole Dancer practicing her craft to the awesome Lacuna Coil song "Angel's Punishment" and their Lead Vocalist Cristina Scabbia liked it enough to post it on her Facebook page. It's KSFW (Kinda Safe For Work) Spoiler Alert: She keeps her clothes on. 

A clip of a guy pranking his wife into answering the door when the Jehovah's Witness came knocking

This Video of Samuel L. Jackson catching shit on the street about his movie roles from lazy parents

or This Emotional Sports Moment of Yankees Legendary Closer Mariano Riviera's farewell from his last appearance at Yankee Stadium. 

Check out this old clip of UFC Fighter Diego Sanchez getting gashed open by a BJ Penn kick to the dome. Pretty sick.

and Last, but not least. This couple driving down the expressway in Chicago while fucking. Yes, you read that correctly.

Well Now You Know, Miley's A Hoe: My Brief Ranting Recap of Twerkgate

So Sunday Night, on The Channel Formerly Known as Music Television held it's annual Music Video Awards. And talentless Pop artist Miley Cyrus went and did this:

You probably have the same reaction I did after this shitfuckmess was over. What just fucking happened? Who let this high school girl snort painkiller and drink tequila? where is her ass? Why does Robin Thicke look like Beetlejuice? So many questions. I'll answer a couple for you.

1. Society pisses me off. One of the main reasons why we are so sickened/confused/whatever about Miley Cyrus is because she looked horrible in her "twerking" efforts. If she had been 20-25 pounds heavier, we'd be talking about this the same way we were amazed back when J. Lo had on that hot ass dress. But no one is going to say that because the media wants women to look like cocaine is back on the rise. Fucking bullshit.

2. There's a large mass of people who find this shit actually entertaining. Lots of people have problems, I understand that. But this was supposed to be a musical performance, this basically is a shit-show cast off sketch from a small-town Circus.

3. I'm not shocked that the Former "Hannah Montana" has turned into this slut. We all should have seen this coming when she was actually decent looking in a denim miniskirt and cowboy boots. Now she's basically at the point where we'll see a tape of her in a interracial gangbang surface on PornHub within the next 6 months. People take that Disney shit all seriously like that's their real life, You shoulda learned yesterday with Britney Spears' crazy ass. But y'all learned today with this one.

I would like to make one note of light: This whole travashamockery was save by the brief performance from Kendrick Lamar. One of the gems of not only Hip-Hop, but of all Music out right now. Big ups to Kendrick on that. He got robbed for Best Hip-Hop Video. Macklebore and his pissy 99 cent grandpa jacket couldn't hold a candle to anything Mr. Lamar has done.

The Reason Why I Retired From Music.

This Morning, I read a transcript and subsequently watched a YouTube video of Kanye West's Freestyle in London http://news.rapgenius.com/Kanye-west-london-speech-lyrics (YouTube video is on the top right hand corner of the page) and it just solidified, not only the state of the music world, but the reason I had to leave it.

I'm not necessarily on his side about the feelings he has for the topics he mentions. He's upset about how the art form of music has been overran by the mass corporate world. I realised that I am part of the problem when it comes to the change of music. I went to McNally Smith College of Music, a place where about 98% of the students and 110% of the faculty are completely dedicated to not just the sound, but the sanctity of Music. They have a inner devotion to their craft but also the way the craft is formed. And personally, I couldn't be any further away than that.

Don't get me wrong. I want to do the best work I possibly can as a performer (Which is what I always call myself, Rarely did I say that I'm a musician, because I truly never and still don't feel that way)
I picked up a bass as a child to impress a girl. In failing miserably, I decided to get better and better because I felt this was an easy way to have people take notice of you. Over time, playing music was a release from all of the anger and depression I faced growing up and I felt that, after practicing and becoming a really good bass player, I could make a (fairly easy) living at this.

Once I got to Minnesota, I met a bunch of musicians who I thought I shared the same dream with:

My Dreams
1: Get Rich
2: Get Laid
3: Basically Do Whatever I Feel Like Because I'm Famous

I was wrong.

Their Dreams (actual quotes I overheard at school)
1: Get to play music for the rest of their lives and not go broke
2: Get a degree, solidifying to people how much they know about Music
3. Earning the respect of their peers within the industry


After 3 months of being yelled at and ridiculed for not following the mold of every sucker who will be in massive debt when they finish running the maze, I left. And that day my Music career started. I joined a couple of projects, played some shows. and then 3 years later, it's the beginning of 2013. I just left the most successful thing I had ever been a part of in my life at that point and It hit me that I didn't want to find my dream in music anymore.

I didn't mind the business part of music, In fact I loved it. I knew that was the way to strike it rich and I was full on into "Selling Out" myself. My old band was not about that. They wanted to make it big and get paid as well, but they cared about the music first and foremost. And on top of it all is that I was finally happy in life and so I didn't need the escape of music like I did a decade ago. I could manage my ups and downs without playing my bass for 8 straight hours.

So when I listened to Kanye's Speech/Freestyle, It just reminded me of why I needed to leave Music and why I don't regret making this move for a second. I am so happy now working with my first and true loves, Sports and Gambling, so I am not complaining. But I am writing this because I know a lot of people ask me, "Are you still playing?" "Why did you leave and give it up?" So I wanted to put some closure to that.

Food Review: Louis Ristorante

On the top floor of the 102 Year old Saint Paul institution, Cossetta's, the crown jewel of the recent renovations is the creation of Louis Ristorante & Bar. This classy counterpart boasts a fantastic rooftop patio, 2 bars and a very Traditional Italian menu that made this Chicago native check to see just what city he was in when I made a visit a couple weeks ago.

I led off the night with one of their signature drinks, "Stiletto di Sorrono" (Bourbon & Amaretto with in-house made Sour Mix) the beverage was well-crafted and garnished. The bar offers a lot of interesting choices for beer (selections from the local variety to imported Italian choices) It wasn't overwhelming but very balanced. Like any great Italian spot, they have a very extensive wine selection. I enjoyed a Franciscan Cabernet with my meal at the suggestion of our server and it paired very well with my meal.

Speaking of Grub, the bites were tastier than the beverages here. I ordered the Coste Di Manzo Brasate (Braised Short Ribs with balsamic carrots) and a simple side order of Pan-Fried baby potatoes in Olive Oil and Parsley. A perfectly divine combo of Well cooked meat and seasoned veggies made for a true hearty Italian meal. My friend had the Pasta E Fagoli Soup, which had a solid blend of Pasta, Ham, & Fresh Tomatoes. For dessert, we split an amazingly displayed dish of Chocolate & Vanilla Gelato, and decently garnished at the divide with a piece of sweet Cannoli wrapper. Definitely worth making some extra room for, even if you aren't always an after-dinner dessert person like myself.

The ambiance at Louis is top notch. Probably one of the better date places in all of the Twin Cities, definitely within the Downtown St. Paul area. The service was on-point and very nice and helpful. There's really nothing more you can ask for from this place.

Louis Ristorante gets the First Ever 5 of 5 Flames in CSTH History. Congrats and keep up the great work!

Louis Ristorante & Bar (inside Cossetta's on the 3rd Level; Parking available in Back Lot)

211 7th St W #3  St Paul, MN 55102


(651) 222-7378

http://www.cossettas.com/louis/

Pushed it too far: A Tale of an Attempted "Cockblock"

So Friday was quite the awesome day. Had sushi for lunch, Performed in a recital where everyone sounded awesome, Had a ton of fun at the mall and had a great barbeque dinner. And then I did something that I said on here just last year I was gonna stop doing. Go to a house party.

Now this party was fine for the first hour, Great music, tons of booze, solid conversation. I was really enjoying myself. Then this random chick (I've met her before a while back but even I couldn't remember her name) approached me about a Yoga trick to crack your back. Normally, I would walk away and pour another drink, But since I had aggrevated my back about an hour before the party, I accepted the challenge. So Here I am, laying on this floor while this girl is popping my back. A few of my friends want to leave out and so one of them taps me and says that we are leaving, asking if I want to come along. My friend who is a girl, who is there with her boyfriend says quite loudly, "Why is she touching you? we should go now!" At this point, the rage hit me full steam ahead, but with the circumstances and the fact that I was raised well, I told her I'll meet them over there later. Yoga girl overhears this and says "I think your girl is mad at me." I swiftly reply that she is Not my girl and I thanked her for the adjustment.

Now, 20 minutes later, I meet my friend at her place, where most of the party moved and I was welcomed to some cat-call responses of "oooh, did you bang her?" kinda shit. Funny in a slight way, but 1: It was dumb because Yoga girl had a boyfriend, who was there and I was chatting with minutes before this happened. and 2: Now I am completely furious because if she had assumed that this chick was trying to sleep with me then why in the holy fuck would you try to cockblock me by saying some bitch shit like You shouldn't have her touch you. That was not her place and I let her know that (In still a pretty tactful way, I didn't cuss her out like I wanted to)

I have seen my lady friends flirt and hit on some guys I felt weren't right for them or just even slightly sketchy, and unless I felt they were in extreme immediate danger, I would Never go in and cockblock someone for my own selfish thoughts. So for anyone to ever reach in and stop something that I as a grown ass man can make a decision on, angers me to no end. This might seem blown out in proportion, but with the knowledge I have about the said party who felt the need to interfere, it was not only embarassing but utterly uncalled for.

Boycotting Wild Tymes

I can't even wait until morning to write this up right now. I just got home from seeing some of my best friends in tears of anger and disgust over today's news. 2 friends were Wrongfully Fired from Wild Tymes Bar in Saint Paul, Minnesota over an accusation of stolen money from a couple of weeks ago. What makes this a ridiculous termination is the fact that the two accused Made a ton of money that night, and because their head manager decide to mix up money from an outdoor sales point with the bucket that was tip money from that busy night because she wanted to drink and socialise like the rest of us on St. Pat's Day. And for the record, I can personally vouch for both of them as people of great character and integrity to the point where I would trust them with my bank and betting accounts, and I mean that with all the breath in my body. Another factor as to why this firing is both unjust and asinine is because they have been led by a faulty and incompetent Head Manager who can't even figure out how the bottles behind her bar are layed out. As one of their top patrons within the last several years (And I have the fucking credit card and bank statements to back that up) One should never hear dozens and dozens of complaints from staff about how things aren't being taken care of or how you aren't able to do simple tasks around your place of work, let alone lead a hard working staff of dedicated people to make money. I have brought in countless patrons and spread the word about this bar for the 5 years I have lived in St. Paul, and mark my words to death, on the grave of my resting and living family,I Will Never Appear At Wild Tymes Bar & Grill, I Will Never Promote Wild Tymes Bar & Grill
I ADVISE EVERY SINGLE PERSON, EITHER LIVING IN MINNESOTA OR TRAVELING INTO MINNESOTA TO NEVER, EVER, EVER DRINK OR EAT AT WILD TYMES BAR & GRILL!!!

 and as far as Musicians on your poorly run shit fucking stage and never paying artists
 I ADVISE EVERY SINGLE MUSICIAN IN THE COUNTRY TO NEVER, EVER, EVER PERFORM AT WILD TYMES UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES!!!
My Former Band brought 300 people into the patio and booths of that establishment, and all that "I, Corvinus" ever got for that show was under 50 bucks and an overcooked pizza. The last project I performed with was "Banned" from playing there because Sandy felt "Threatened" by local street artist Tony Criss. The reason for this sentiment was because she was upset that he was cleared by neighboring bar Great Waters (A fine establishment located at 426 Saint Peter St, Fine craft beers if you like that sort of thing, I suggest you check them out next time you're Downtown or going to a Minnesota Wild game) had given him the OK to play at their patio. She responded by calling in a complaint to the police.

I would like to say in conclusion, that I am grateful for the amazing bartenders and servers I have met while drinking there and that I hope to see all of you guys and gals on a regular basis at different places of work and bars to socialize. And to you, Miss Manager (You know who the Fuck you are) and the ownership/management responsible for this unjust termination of the two best workers you had on staff, I hope that the future vacancies tagged along will run you right into the fucking toilet. And have fun training new staff in the middle of a  potential Minnesota Wild playoff run. Your incompetence will rub off and your establishment will crumble faster than the snowpile outside of 7th Place in the Spring.

HERE IS A LIST OF ACCEPTABLE BARS THAT PEOPLE SHOULD PATRONIZE IN DOWNTOWN SAINT PAUL, MINNESOTA:


Amsterdam Bar & Hall (WONDERFUL PLACE TO HEAR & PERFORM MUSIC)
6 West 6th Street
612-285-3112
www.amsterdambarandhall.com

Alary's Bar (GREAT DRINK SPECIALS & SHUTTLE FOR WILD GAMES)
139 7th Street East
651-224-7717
www.alarys.com

Bullpen Sports Saloon (AWESOME DRINK SPECIALS & VERY NICE STAGE)
395 North Robert St
651-340-0583
www.bullpensportssaloon.com

Bulldog Lowertown (EXCELLENT TAP SELECTION AND GREAT FOOD)
237 East 6th Street
651-221-0750
www.thebulldoglowertown.com

Great Waters Brewery (FINE CRAFT BREWERY AND SOLID FOOD)
426 Saint Peter Street
651-224-2739
www.greatwatersbc.com

Accountablity

“If you hang out with chickens, you're going to cluck 

and if you hang out with eagles, you're going to fly.”

― Steve Maraboli

This previous weekend was St. Patrick's Day. My favorite holiday of the year, a time to celebrate intense hours of drinking, partying and camaraderie. This year's celebration meant a lot to me considering how I was in poor health and unknowingly near death around this point last year. The fact that I was able to drink for about 32 of the 48 hours between Saturday and Sunday is both miraculous and a testament to what one's body can do and how your mind can will it to happen.

But upon recapping and patching the weekend's events, it trickled down into what I have previously stated on here and as well as how I have changed socially in the last several months. There are a lot of people, either directly connected or via friends of friends or acquaintances, that drink and cannot be held accountable for themselves when hitting a drunken level. Now I understand full well that drinking tolerance with in a person is like a snowflake, never two alike. But the disparity of events branches all genders, races, religions, shapes and sizes. People need to take time in their lives to figure out how they can handle things. If you like to drink, you should know your limits with alcohol before you go out and drink. Maybe it's making sure you eat beforehand. Maybe it's you can't drink Jagermeister like it's water after 5 hours. Whatever the circumstance, set the rules with your mind and body and follow accordingly, breaking them for nothing and nobody at any time.

Saturday night, I met a chick who had been drinking, but was clearly coherent, said she was alone and wanted to have fun. I danced with this lady and we had a shot before she started to harass a friend of mine and then proceeded to straddle some random guy a few minutes later. A combination of pissed, stunned and general disgust came about me and I was ready to leave. I find out later that this chick wasn't alone and was actually with her boyfriend who was working his ass off bartending for the night and was good friends with said harassed friend. Now this slut more than likely went home with her boyfriend and chalked all of what went down up to "Oh, I just had too many drinks." No Fucking Accountability for the fact that A: She apparently reached a point to where she could no longer hold her liquor intake, and B: Was clearly trying to have fun with someone other than her boyfriend While He's In the Goddamn Bar. When I danced with her, it turned from casual 2-step to her bent down in front of me pretty fast. But I'm sure that all is well in her head for now and that this same event will occur at another bar with another set of people.

I have never seen people eat so much food that they cannot digest anymore of it and then they projectile vomit and shit their pants around the entire room, but dozens upon dozens of times will people go and blame the dumb, mindless, reckless, stupid shit they say and fucking do over a bottle.

Grow. The. Fuck. Up.

I have reached a point of disgust to where there are some calls I won't answer when going out because I refuse, as a grown ass adult who got over drinking in excess because it "seemed cool", and can not handle my alcohol and realise my tolerance, I Refuse to drink with people who bring nothing but drama and bullshit and just lose there motherfucking minds when they drink. And I'm not talking about getting Drunk. That happens to us all and people can still be casual while drunk. I'm not talking about getting sick because that can happen as well and be from a number of reasons. But when you have a track record of fights, blackouts, broken shit, arguments, injuries, "I dunno what the fuck happened, Dude where's my car" kind of shit, it's time for a re-evaluation of life and asking the question of is alcohol right for you. And while you're off figuring that out, I'll be at the bar having a great, drama-free time drinking.