The date of the annual powder puff game between the senior and junior girls had arrived, and both classes were preparing intently for what everybody knew would be another long, hard-fought battle.

This game had something for everyone, whether it was hard-nosed defense, trash talking, or even just beautiful football. Yes, this one had it all.

The game had a frantic, unorganized feel to it even before it started. Each team united to bellow its respective class chant while posing for seemingly endless group pictures. To make matters worse, some coaches were missing, leaving players running around hopelessly, trying desperately to receive a crash course on the rules of football. Finally, once everything was sorted out, it was time to play..

The seniors quickly jumped out to a 2 touchdown lead, thanks to a spectacular run out of the wildcat formation by runningback Elise Herrmannsfeldt that left the juniors’ defense tackling nothing but air.

A few series later, the seniors reached deep into their play book and decided to run a pass play, a rare sighting at any powder puff game.

As senior Shaunice Robinson received the snap, everyone seemed to be expecting the run except for Robinson and her favorite receiver. After a nifty roll out, the lefty QB lofted a perfect pass straight into the outstretched arms of teammate Karen Quiroz for the game’s second touchdown that left the crowd astounded. The two would later hook up for another long pass play.

As the game unfolded, emotions started to heat up. Numerous scuffles broke out between opposing players, leaving Referees Andre Barnes and Yusuf Ibrahim scrambling to break them up.

“They were impossible to control,” said Barnes.

The once friendly relationship between the junior and senior girls had quickly changed into a fierce rivalry.

“‘013 are dirty [women],” said Senior Samantha Montarbo.

As the game progressed, fresh and hydrated players began to get subbed in from the sidelines, and the defenses began to take over, highlighted by a brilliant interception by Senior Kayla Kerr and a gutsy fumble recovery by teammate Madison Bui.

As the game winded down, both teams had one last scoring drive left in them. Senior Aliana Dinish and junior Ebone Jones each had powerful runs that would have made Marshawn Lynch proud (for anyone confused by the reference look up “beast mode”) as they flung defenders out of the way like rag dolls on their way to the endzone.

In the end, Arrigoni’s prediction proved to be accurate, as the seniors were too much to handle and posted an impressive 3–1 win over a scrappy junior side.

“The heart of this team is unbelievable,” said Senior Kit Wesselhoeft after the referee’s final whistle.

Even in defeat, most of the juniors seemed to remain positive. “013 is full of power and creativity”, said junior Zoe Browne. These attributes will surely be needed if the juniors wish to right their ship in next year’s powder puff game.

“My team is an inspiration,” said junior Olivia Dack. “Next year we’ll be stupid hyphy.”

Unfortunately, this enthusiasm did not affect all of the junior supporters. “They did not take the game seriously enough,” said junior Gideon Mcgrew-Keller.

True or not, it was clear that the final result was a deserved one. Some even felt that it was a bit too easy.

“We had more fun playing ‘11,” said Dinish.

For those who don’t know, Tetris is a puzzle game in which shaped pieces drop onto a board and the player attempts to line pieces up so they fit together in a line and disappear for points.

During the World Championship, Truong competed against other players in Tetris Battle, in a race to clear fifteen lines of blocks.

He has gotten so good at the game that he now plays “Invisible Tetris,” a version where the player can only see the upcoming piece and must memorize its placement.

“How is a champion born?” you might ask. Truong remembers playing Tetris in kindergarten on his Super Nintendo gaming system, but says he took a nine-year break from it and didn’t play again until freshman year. He says he “pictures things as puzzles”, making activities like Tetris and Rubik’s Cube simple.

Though most masters of their craft spend endless hours practicing, Truong only played about an hour per day during his peak and three before competition days. (I spend an hour eating every day, does that mean maybe some day I’ll be as good as the competitive hot dog eater Joey Chestnut?) He added that if anyone wants to challenge him on Tetris Friends, his username was “kennyboy2”. Just sayin’.

At his fastest, he can clear 40 lines of Tetris pieces in 25.73 seconds, which is dropping a mind-boggling 4 pieces every second onto the playing field. Keep in mind that the world record is 21.20 seconds.

In comparison, it took me four tries to even clear 40 lines without losing, and once I could finally do that, it took me 7 minutes 47 seconds.

Throughout our interview, Kenneth was quite nonchalant about his international status, acting like it was no big deal. However, his eyes lit up when he showed off his prize: a t-shirt signed by the creator of Tetris himself, Alexey Pajitnov.

Yearning for tips to perfect my own game, I asked what advice he could give to other up-and-coming players. “Tetris is like riding a bike!” he offered excitedly. “You can never get worse at Tetris, you can only get better.” Encouraging words for all you budding ‘Tris players out there.

Though I didn’t get a chance to see a demonstration, I was assured by Truong admirers that he is, in fact, a Tetris “god.”

Truong confirmed that he will be participating in tournaments next year, which will give him some time to build up an ample fan base.

Fiesta Bowl: Oklahoma State vs. Stanford, January 2nd, 5:30 p.m.

Both teams look like real contenders for the national championship, so this game should be quite heated.  State has only one loss, to a meager Iowa State team after three OSU coaches perished in a plane crash mere days before.  Stanford, on the other hand, lost a thriller to Oregon in which Andrew Luck’s top deep threat was hurt.  Both have wins over top ten teams as well.  The game also shows possibly the nation’s top two passers in Andrew Luck and Brandon Weeden.  Both are on the Heisman Ballot and Luck is expected to win it.

Pick: Oklahoma state wins an offensive thriller 37–30

Rose Bowl: Oregon vs. Wisconsin, January 2nd, 2:oo p.m.

Two star running backs, arguably the nation’s best, square off in the Tournament of Roses, and both offenses will be going wild.  Montee Ball of Wisconsin brings power and force, while LaMichael James brings lightning speed and quickness.  Both defenses are also astounding, with Wisconsin’s being able to stop the run and Oregon priding itself as one of the best secondaries in the NCAA.  However, Oregon just dismissed All-American cornerback Cliff Harris.  The X factor may be Wisconsin quarterback Russel Wilson, who can use his feet as well as his arm to make plays.  Wilson, a transfer from NC State, is also a coveted baseball player.  This will likely be his last game in a football uniform.  Look for him to go off.

Pick: Wisconsin 35–21

Sugar Bowl:  Michigan vs. Virginia Tech, January 3rd, 8:30 p.m.

Tech had two losses this season, both to Clemson.  Michigan, on the other hand, lost two close games: one to Michigan State (on a last second hail mary), the other to Iowa.  The Wolverines boast the nation’s most athletic quarterback, Denard Robinson, who has skimmed the surface of Heisman talks.  Both defenses are right next to each other in points against, so expect a defensive battle.  Tech however, has not beaten a team in the BCS top 25 all season, and played a soft schedule.  Expect Michigan to make big plays.

Pick:  Michigan 21–3

Orange Bowl:  West Virginia vs. Clemson, January 4th, 5:30 p.m.

This game is, arguably, between the two weakest teams to make it to a BCS bowl.  Clemson has shown it can be an offensive powerhouse behind freshman do-it-all receiver Sammy Watkins.  West Virginia, on the other hand, is barely ranked in the top 25 and has struggled against a soft Big East Schedule.  The top threat for the Mountaineers is Geno Smith, who has thrown for 4,000 yards this season, which ranks 7th in the country.  Offenses should dominate this game, but Clemson will pull it out as though the team has something to prove.

Pick: Clemson 30–13

BCS National Championship:  Alabama vs. Louisiana State, January 9th, 5:30 p.m.

Everybody remembers the OT thriller in which LSU beat ‘Bama 9–6.  This game boasts a matchup between the top two defenses in the country.  Both teams had Heisman finalists in Trent Richardson (Alabama) and Tyrran “Honeybadger” Mathieu, the first top 5 Heisman finalist in a decade who plays on the defensive side of the ball.  Mathieu is also one of the best punt returners in the country.

The rivalry between these two teams is intense. Both are from the SEC west, and many of the players played high school football together.  In their meeting during the regular season, Alabama kickers missed a combined four field goals, all from 44 yards or longer.

In aperfect storybook ending, ‘Bama kicker Cade Foster, who was responsible for three of the missed field goals, will kick a fifty yard field goal to win the National Championship and the team will carry him off the field. And that is exactly what is going to happen.

Pick: Alabama 10–7

Nobody, from the casual fan to the professional analyst, expected professional basketball to be saved for the 2011–2012 season.

“We’re about to go into the nuclear winter of the NBA,” said league commissioner and galactic fool, David Stern, a mere twelve days before the season was heroically salvaged.

But sure enough, when the situation seemed most grim, the owners and players reached a new labor deal that will, in short, allow for the unfortunately shortened season to begin on Christmas day.

The lockout officially ended on the 26th of November, and though many people don’t actually give a crap about the NBA, they should. The 2010–2011 season was the most compelling in the league’s storied history.

LeBron James left his home state of Ohio and abandoned the Cavaliers to play in Miami, while simultaneously losing the ability to play for more than three consecutive quarters.

The Big Four of Boston embarked on what they hoped would be another championship journey and managed to make it through the year without shattering any kneecaps.

Memphis’s Zach “Z-Bo” Randolph and Marc “More Attractive Brother” Gasol formed the league’s newest gruesome twosome and, as an eight-seed, upset the first-ranked San Antonio Spurs before a narrow loss to the Oklahoma City Zombie-Sonics.

J.J. Barea said the word “hella” in an interview and absorbed a fierce clothesline from the likes of Metta World Peace without so much as a grimace.

And the Lakers lost pathetically, showing absolutely zero sportsmanship.

Indeed, 2011 was truly a stupendous year for us basketball fans, even for the still-bitter Seattlites (RIP Supersonics, 1967–2008), who had  no real rooting interests.

And thankfully for us, as well as NBA fans everywhere, we won’t have to settle for the vastly inferior sport that is college basketball this winter.

NCAA Basketball is entertaining for about one month of the season. The season captures attention from the conference tournaments to the Final Four, and all games before that period exhibit nothing more than missed layups and countless turnovers. A lockout-shortened NBA season is still far more interesting than a full college season.

Even with sixteen fewer games this year, the NBA looks to be even more promising than last year. On Christmas Day, the defending champion Dallas Mavericks will take on the team they vanquished in the Finals last June, the Miami Heat.

Historically, December 25th is the day when  non-die-hard basketball fans start to care about the season, and this winter’s Christmas headliner is significantly more interesting than those of all the previous years.

This game will be played in Dallas, where the Heat will have to watch their opponent’s Championship banner raised before tip off.

Perhaps we’ll see Chris “Velociraptor” Bosh cry again, or LeBron “Balding” James rage with fury. Or better yet, maybe we’ll see Jason “Halloween ‘09” Terry represent his home city while receiving his first championship ring.

But that doesn’t mean that he wasn’t personally significant. I rooted for him I thought his smile was one of the best on the team. I remember watching his first home run and getting chills as the T.V. displayed his overjoyed father. I remember his hot start when he was called up, and how he and the other youngins made the Mariners watchable. I recall getting furious at Halman because he struck out so much. I knew Greg Halman, the baseball player and I knew him well. But in the end that is only a small fraction of who he was, yet all most people will remember him for.

It had never occurred to me to think about Greg Halman, the person. In my mind, he never transcended the diamond. When projecting a future lineup, I always found a way to juggle him in to an eventual starting role amongst the throng of young speedsters.

Then, in the span of a second, he was gone.

What did this mean to me? I wondered. What did it mean for the Mariners? What did it mean for the world? Then it hit me.

Halman’s baseball career went far beyond the box score. Sure, he didn’t get the chance to develop into a star, but he nonetheless served as an excellent example that sometimes, hard work does pay off. For every one minor leaguer who makes it to the show, there are a hundred who spend their entire careers getting shuttled by bus from crappy minor league stadium to crappy minor league stadium. Say what you want about Greg Halman, but to his substantial fan-base in the Netherlands, he made it.

The eulogies and news articles written throughout the day were, for the most part, glib cop-outs. They cited quotes from guys like Bud Selig and the head of the players union; executives who probably had no idea who the hell Halman was before his death. They all spewed the standard crap, blabbering about things like his “tremendous passion for the game.” The story went through the wires like any other, quickly dissipating from the public conscience by the day’s end.

At 24 years old, it had been 8 years since the Mariners international scouting department plucked him from Haarlem, Holland and brought him to the states. European baseball was and still is in its developing stages, so even ata young age, the immensely talented Halman was serving as an ambassador of sorts to America. But by all accounts, he embraced the role, immersing himself in the culture, adding Spanish to his already impressive linguistic repertoire (he knew four), and flourishing in an unforgiving minor league system that leaves the vast majority in the dust. He was a natural talent. A five tool athlete as the scouts would say.

Greg Halman gave a great interview a few months ago in which he spoke about the international game of baseball. Through his thick accent, he encouraged the youngsters of the Netherlands to “follow their dreams.” “It’s hard work, it’s not easy, it’s about dreams, you gotta have dreams because I have dreams and dreams took me where I am now.”

I can’t reflect on Greg Halman the person. It’s always best to leave the emotional and personal eulogies to those who have themselves been touched by the subject. I can, however, celebrate Greg Halman, the baseball player. Hailing from a country where baseball is as foreign as cricket is to us, the odds were stacked against Halman. He had to blaze his own path, for few were around to show him the way. But he was ultimately sucesfull, reaching the point in which he could proudly proclaim to the kids of the world: “I did it. So can you.” And from the perspective of this lowly fan, one who rarely even thinks of professional athletes as human, it is this that makes Greg Halman’s a life worth celebrating.

As I drove through the shimmering brightness of downtown Seattle, I noticed that not one but two cars in view sported Thunderbirds bumper stickers. Having never seen a single piece of Thunderbirds paraphernalia in my life, I viewed this as a good omen for the night. However my high spirits rapidly plunged a notch when I missed my exit and was forced to blindly work my way through the underbelly of Kent until, by chance, the surprisingly beautiful Showare center entered my view.

Parking was both free and easy — not a good sign for attendance.

I walked to the press entrance where I was issued my press pass, a credential which I proudly displayed to everyone in range throughout the night to illustrate how important I was. After our rendezvous, my photographer, Ben Sabath, and I took our place against the glass-a vantage point from which the violence of the game could be experienced at full blast.

As the starting time approached, the mostly empty 6500 seat arena grew dim. The festivities began with a stirring rendition of both the beautiful Canadian national anthem, and the painfully bland American one. I always look forward to sporting events in which the Canadians are present because I absolutely love their theme song.

Introductions were next. The refs jetted out of of the tunnel„ introduced with over-the-top pomp and circumstance comparable to that provided for middle age kings. They maneuvered in tight formation around the rink for over half a minute, swiveling and twirling, proudly showing off their skating abilities as if anybody cared.

Just as the refs took their posts at their respective corners of the rink, the Prince George Cougars came roaring out, also in disciplined army formation but with even more ferocity than their predecessors. They performed a ritual on their side of the arena that appeared to be some peculiar combination of a group stretching activity and an ancient Mayan mating ceremony.

To the dissonant tune of a train horn, the home team charged out of the tunnel with tremendous power and precision. It was as if the entrance was more important as the game itself. The absurdity of this kind of  introduction at a minor league hockey game was lost on most of the crowd, who ate it all up.

The details of the game, rather than the competition itself, most interested me. I liked how both teams substituted constantly, how every gratuitous smash of a player on to the glass evoked a tribal roar from the crowd.

A nice photographer with a goatee gave me the low down on the way the league works. Apparently, many of the players were young lads like myself who were drafted by the Thunderbirds, stayed with families in the area, and attended nearby Kent-Meridian High School.

This shocked me, as a good 80 percent of the players had fully grown moustaches. To be able to do such wild things with your facial hair at such a young age is darned impressive. I could only dream of being that talented.

The man guided Ben and me to the press box, where many of my peers were ruthlessly committing the cardinal sin of cheering. Being the respectable journalist that I am, I quickly got out of there so as not to be associated with such blatant unprofessionalism.

Once my trusty companion, Ben, departed on account of prior engagements, I decided to explore the arena. It’s a fancy place (opened in 2009) and the low prestige of the games played within clearly was not taken into account when the food was being priced. I attempted to purchase a four dollar vitamin water because I’m an idiot, but my debit card was rejected.

It just so happened that while I was wandering the ins and outs of the stadium, the Cougars scored what would be the only goal of the game.

Frustrated by my rotten luck, I decided to push the limits of what my press pass could do.

There was a sign off in the distance that read “luxury patrons only.” I casually strolled past the old lady guarding the entrance, flashing my press pass to her as if I was too busy to talk.

I plopped down next to a trio of pretty girls who seemed about my age. One of them looked at me funny (probably flirtation), but I stood my ground with confidence, keeping my press pass easily visible on my lap so that they — like everyone else — knew I was important.

I watched the remainder of the game in an awkward silence, as my presence seemed to disrupt the rowdy conversation the girls had been having, and the arena had lost its buzz.

The game had become a bore, and for the last five minutes, my only real entertainment came from and old geezer with gauges in his ears cheering excitedly in the section down below.

After waving goodbye to my girls, I surveyed the Showare center for one last time. In only two hours, I had been spanked by the Thunderbirds mascot (his name is Cool Bird), seen seven fist fights, and witnessed an 80-year old with gauges scream in jubilation at the top of his lungs. This is what sports are all about.

I may have not really cared about the game, but that didn’t keep me from enjoying myself, because more than anything else the experience was about the community. The fundamental absurdity that pervades all sports is generally what makes them so fun to watch and play.

And on this night, deep in the bowels of suburbia and amidst a throng of enthusiastic spectators, black and white, young and old, hockey proved itself to me.

Unbeknownst to most, our crafty girls have been cruising this season. As of October 19th,  they were holding their own in the notoriously competitive Kingco 4A division. Other than two recent painful losses to the always tough Eastlake and Skyline, they are undefeated in conference play, and even took down SAAS, handing them one of their only two losses on the season. The Lady Bulldogs are quickly emerging as one of Garfield’s few premier teams, a far cry from their substandard past in which a single win was reason enough for celebration. Already, they’ve surpassed the win total of the last three seasons combined, with five victories so far on the year.

Watch just a snippet of a game and it’s not hard to see why they’ve been so successful. They move with ferocity and aggresion; winger Jane “the enforcer” Markman has been known to take out opponents in scores when they get a little too pushy, and even players who are all smiles off the field such as junior Anna Duncan are known for having a competitive dark side while in between the lines. Simply put, they are not a team you want to mess with.

Juxtaposed with this ferociousness is a sly game of passing precision and poise that, to a soccer greenhorn, is indistinguishable from that of a professional team. “We move as one unit,” says junior captain Caroline Sheffield. “We’re like a cell, with every aspect of the team playing a different role but ultimately working together to create a single lean mean winning machine.” The synergy of the squad stands out on the field, as they rely heavily on passing, weaving the ball throughout the opposing defenses until a crack emerges.

Stellar defense has been another key to success for this young squad. In their first 13 games, they shut out the opposition 6 times, tied for first in Kingco. Even after subtracting the out-of-conference games, the D still stands out as one of the best around. They allowed a mere five goals in their first seven conference games, knotting them up them with undefeated Skyline for second fewest allowed in league play. Senior Captain Emily Proulx credits “the speed, youth, and tenacity” of the team’s back line. She explains that “it challenges opponents and often prevents them from making penetrating attacks that reach our keeper.” In the few instances in which the ball has been allowed through the steel curtain that is Garfield’s D,  goalkeepers Devin McDonald and Sarah Whitney have held strong, as both are among the league leaders in shutouts.

There are only two seniors on the team this year, as most of the squad is made up of a strong core of junior girls, mixed in with youngins like sophomore Heather Kovar and freshman Hannah Lewis, both of whom are taking after their star older siblings. In the big game against arch rival Roosevelt, Lewis wowed spectators with a 40 yard looping gem over the keepers head, and Kovar is third in all of Kingco with seven goals.

“They say it’s lonely at the top, but I’m feeling plenty popular up here,” jokes Sheffield, noting that most home games now usually draw a small student section in addition to the always dependable gang of supportive parents. “We’ve smelled success and we are here to stay!”

Because I was not in attendance, I began to attempt to piece together what happened that fateful night. When I asked him his take on the situation, senior linebacker Charles Humphrie said that a Ballard player punched one of the defensive lineman, who then followed by pushing him back. “It just went crazy after that, I can’t remember really, it happened so fast.”

I got a more in depth look from senior captain John Trupin.

“They had just scored and were winning by a sizable margin, and one of their players started talking hella sh** to one of our guys,” Trupin told me. “The entire game [Ballard] had been playing fairly dirty and had gotten a ton of penalties as a result. Both benches cleared pretty much simultaneously. I was directly at the center of the fight and was throwing our players back towards our sideline when I got punched in the stomach and got the wind knocked out of me.”

He said that a couple of our five ejections had no grounds whatsoever, and that one of our guys was thrown out simply for getting jumped on by an opposing player.

He noted, “I think both sides started it but [Ballard] were a bunch of a**holes all game and we were very gentlemanly.”

Hoping to get a different perspective on the story, I Facebook messaged a Ballard football player, asking nicely what happened and if he wouldn’t mind talking to me about the situation. He was about to give me some juicy inside details, but at the last second pulled out, saying that his coach told the team that day “to let the game fade into memory.” Journalistic inquiry: denied.

Ouch.

Garfield football has been criticized a lot lately, and to some degree, the criticism has been justified. But, when something like a fight happens, it is never just one team’s fault. Especially against Ballard, when it’s always their fault. For as long as anyone can remember, there has been major beef between us. I honestly cannot blame the Beavers for being so bitter whenever our two schools compete. It stems from their inferiority complex, simply because we are better at everything, including sportsmanship.

To be honest, I don’t think we will ever really know the whole story behind the now infamous “brawl.” Based on what was said (and not said) by both sides, I think it’s safe to agree who was at fault (Ballard). However, we as a school and team should learn from this and try not to replicate it, because it does indeed tarnish our once-pristine reputation. Also, we can’t get ejected anymore because we need enough people to actually take the field in a game. Dam beavers!

Kovar plays for the Sounders developmental team and also for the US u-18 national team.  He was allowed to play for Garfield up until this year, but will not be seen in purple come springtime due to commitments to the Sounder squad.

In recent years, American clubs have been creating developmental teams, hoping that one day these players will be able to play among the MLS ranks. Unlike other professional sports, these players are bonded with teams before they get drafted, sign a contract, or even reach the age of adulthood.

Many Americans believe American sports currently go too far over the top, with high school recruiting and even middle school recruiting, government funding for stadiums, and kids being exposed at too young of an age to the promise of an illustrious professional sports career. This new format is following a model however, a model that is more than a century deep in tradition.When Christiano Ronaldo left Manchester United, he signed a new contract worth approximately $16 million per year.  However, Real Madrid, the team that purchased him, paid Manchester United over $100 million for his rights to a new contract.

Manchester United, the most popular sports team in the world, is worth an estimated $1.7 billion.  Man U has academy teams as low as age 9, (a player just got signed at age 7) bringing in players from around the world to train for years before they ever make it onto Old Trafford, Man U’s hallowed ground.  Scouts are paid to scour the world and be the first to recognize young talent when they see it.  Soccer is the only professional sport where a club has to literally buy a player from another team (so the team makes money) and also negotiate a new salary to pay the player.

Kovar is essentially bound to the Sounders, yet hasn’t ever signed a contract.  This goes for fellow Sounders Academy players Sam Perkins, a Garfield junior, and Abdullahi Abdi, a sophomore, as well.  In a sense, the athletes are actually owned by their clubs, and the club holds the rights to their talents.  Kovar, Perkins, and Abdi are not allowed to sign a contract with another team, cannot tryout for another team, and cannot compete with another team without the Sounders Academy permission.  However, the limited contractual freedom is worth it to Abdi, who says “We get so many opportunities that other players don’t get.”

The Sounders have what Kovar calls “the rights of first refusal.  If any pro club tries to sign us, they have to pay the Sounders,” he says. “Under any circumstances, [the Sounders] have first priority.”  The Sounders Academy does not cost its recruits any money, but unlike other top teams in Europe, there is no school accompanying the team.  “It’s pretty unfair, but Real Salt Lake has a residency school,” says Perkins.  Now Real Salt Lake is known for churning out the best MLS players, somewhat due to this advantage.  The reason many clubs do this now is that it keeps them from having to do huge buyouts from other clubs to get the top players.

While some companies hold their assets in stocks or bonds, sports teams invest in people. Says Perkins, “we’re basically an investment.”