So, I’m sitting here with mixed emotions in anticipation of what has become a bit of a yearly tradition… drafting my fantasy baseball team. Basically, the near-holiday goes something like this…

1. A month or so prior to opening day, I contemplate dropping out of the league with a mind toward the time I’ll save, the kudos I’ll receive from my wife (and likely my friend’s wives), and dreams of how I would otherwise spend the $14 entry fee (like donating to a favorite charity, purchasing flowers for my wife, buying a relaxing CD, or - more likely - a pizza).
2. I decide to “give it one more year” knowing I would miss the 2 or 3 interactions I get to have with good friends from college over the approaching summer, and the incalculable joy of keeping up with my favorite professional sport… besides, it’s only $14.
3. A few weeks before the draft, I start thinking about how I should start researching players and draft strategies well in advance - to try to garner a leg up on my competition - a bunch of guys (with home internet access) who have the ability care about players who do not play for the Chicago Cubs. These good intentions are never realized, but it’s an important part of the tradition.
4. A few days before the draft, I start thinking about how I’m really going to embarrass myself by choosing Mitch Williams as my closer or Ricky Henderson as my speedster - like the three years I built my team around Kerry Wood and Raphael Furcal. Unfortunately, the only players I can remember from last year were the ones on my fantasy team - or the Chicago Cubs. Who’s this Hanley guy everybody is talking about? What happened to Nomar?
5. A few hours before the draft, I rush to the nearest bookstore (or in today’s case, a groccery store) to purchase a fantasy baseball magazine. Of course, I also grab a few other items so as to not appear to be “that guy” who rushes out to the store at the last minute to buy a fantasy baseball magazine. You also don’t want to be reminded of the obvious stewardship issues of spending $8 on such an item. I could have bought a pizza. Self check out was created for such purchases - and for buying feminine hygene products and underwear for your wife.
6. Ignore your family for the three hours leading up to the draft as you cram as much info as possible from the costly, nerdy, outdated magazine into your brain. The adreniline begins to course through your veins… it’s on! Seriously, who is this Hanley guy? Whatever happened to Juan Gonzales? What kind of name is Chone?
7. After some funny bantor with old friends over overseas computer problems, the brand of beer (or in my case root beer) each person is consuming, and who is going to take a chance on drafting Barry Bonds, we begin the draft.
8. Hopefully, my last ditch efforts pay off and allow me to survive the experience without any permanent bodily damage. More importantly, no more than one person will mock my lineup (that usually just happens to my friend Gornick), and I didn’t draft more than one person who retired in the offseason.
9. A few days later, I log into my fantasy baseball home page (I wish that didn’t still sound nerdy even after 7 or 8 years) and evaluate my team. Inevitably I find that despite all my work (and the $22 I could have spent on pizza) I still draft a group of players that is dominated by guys in their upper 30’s and Chicago Cubs. However, I’ll still be optimistic because the Cubs are improved this year.

So, as I write this I have less than 2 hours until the draft. I’ve barely looked at my magazine, so I’ve got some work to do. I’m hoping my wife is making pizza for dinner but I dare not request it - she’d opt for the flowers. I’m building my team off the hope that Carl Crawford (pictured) is going to have a career year, but he plays for a team now known as the Rays so I’m not holding my breath. The “Rays” sounds almost as intimidating as the “Cubs.” If you heard there was a guy named Carl who was with with the Rays, you wouldn’t envision world-class athletes, you’d envision a bunch of guys who play fantasy baseball, argue about the best continent to settle in Risk (Australia, btw), and eat too much pizza.

Did I mention that I’ve come in dead last in this league for (at least) 4 years in a row? So I guess my goal is to not suck as bad this year.

Ugh… wish me luck,
Aaron

Update:  I survived and no one made fun of me to my face.  I was too nervous to eat supper.  The draft lasted three and a half hours, so it was too late to eat said meal when it finished.  I woke up real hungry this morning.

So, I’m not the only Aaron Crabtree in the United States… there are 40 of us. BUT, I guess I’m the first one to purchase the domain.

If any of the other Aaron Crabtrees out there would like to post something, let me know

In the meantime, for the other 303 million of you who are NOT blessed with the name Aaron Crabtree, find out how many other people share your name.

This makes me ponder a little bit about the importance of names. I personally enjoy unique names and why people were named what they were. I believe I was named after some athletes in the 70s, but my own father can’t even remember. So, I choose to believe it’s a reflection of “Hammerin” Hank Aaron or the first high priest of the Hebrews.

HowManyOfMe.com

There are 40 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

I’d love to hear how many of you there are. Do you know the orgin of your name?

Metanoia,
Aaron Crabtree XL

So, since I finished my Masters degree in December, I have become a bookworm. Reading is about all I want to do. I spend all my spare time (defined as time not working, sleeping, or eating) with a book or magazine in my hands. My son has taken to running across the room toward me and swatting whatever book I happen to be reading as hard as any two year old possibly can.

However, despite the hours I’ve invested nose-in-book, I’ve only finished FOUR books. Seems that just as in other areas of work and life, I have trouble finishing. Good at initiation, bad at follow-thru. Overcome with excitement and anticipation at the start a new volume, but unmotivated to find out how it ends.

Is this a personality thing? Or do I just have a low attention span?

At last count (this morning) I am actively in the process of reading 10 different books. Here’s the current scoreboard:

Books Finished:
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
The Shack by William P. Young
The Circle of Sight: The Book of Sight by Deb Dunlevy
Unprotected byAnonymous M.D. (reprint by Dr. Miriam Grossman)

Books in process:
Not For Sale by David Batstone
Exiles byMichael Frost
Female Chauvinist Pigs by Ariel Levy
Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe
Letter to a young evangelical by Tony Compolo
Heaven by Randy Alcorn
The World is Flat by Thomas Friedman
Terrify No More by Greg Haugen
Sex God by Rob Bell
…and one more that I can’t think of at the moment.

Talk to you later… got some reading to do.

Surprised that I actually FINISHED this post,
Aaron

Yesterday, we were privliged to attend my wife’s grandfather’s 90th birthday celebration.

As with any family gathering - especially those with the Crabtrees or Adams - there are some interesting stories that could be told (and some I’d be foolish to put in writing), but I think I should cut through the crazy antics of family dynamics and reflect on what was really happening yesterday.

This man has lived ninety years! I can hardly fathom living that long. I exist in a world (a college campus) where the fact that I remember the first advent of My Little Pony and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles makes me a relic.

Grandpa Adams (aka Great Grandpa Adams)has lived in ten decades and has been an eyewitness to incredible changes in his world and work. As a farmer, he’s gone from working the soil with horses to trying to understand modern practices saturated with science and government regulation. He was also a plumber, though I doubt his first home even had running water. His legacy is his family. He raised two boys, who raised five grandchildren, who are raising 12 great grandchildren (and still counting).

When I think of grandpa Adams, I think of a weathered man who values hard work, fears God, and cares sacrificially for his also-aging wife.

I wish my children could understand the treasure that they have before them in a great grandfather. Personally, I never met my own great grandpas. It’s unlikely that he will live long enough for them to grow to appreciate such a rare relationship. So, it’s on us to listen to his stories, glean from his experiences, and take a bunch of photos.

So in light of God’s gift of years to Glenn (and us), I honor you, Glenn W. Adams, for ninety years of precious life… and counting.

Metanoia,
Aaron