Well, my Spartans did it again, winning our game over the weekend against the (previously) undefeated defending national champions; in Columbus, no less. The Las Vegas types had installed us as 14-point underdogs, which, considering that we were ranked in the Top Ten going into the game, was a pretty stunning spread. Suffice it to say, we weren't widely expected to win.
But win we did. The final score was 17-14 in our favor, and we didn't actually hold the lead until the field goal that won the game on the final play. But honestly, we fairly dominated the game, pretty much from start to finish. If we hadn't turned the ball over twice, they might not have scored at all.
[As an aside, I didn't get to actually watch much of the game; 7M's high school team was playing in the state semi-finals an hour's drive from OurTown (or, it would normally be an hour's drive; in five inches of snow, it became more like two, at least on the homeward leg), and Jenn and I went to watch that. Alas, they lost; their game was closer and more competitive than the final score would indicate, but our kids just made too many mistakes against a really good team (memo to the opposing coach - when you're ahead by 22 with 3 minutes to play, and you run a trick play to score again, that's. . . how shall I say it? . . . a real no-class move; I'd like to use more, um, colorful language, but you know, just sayin').]
So we only got to see the 4th quarter of the Spartan game on TV. And I was just stunned to see our offensive line getting a 2-yard push on virtually every snap. You're not supposed to be able to do that to the mighty Buckeyes, but there it was.
Since Urban Meyer has been the Ohio State coach, his Buckeyes have lost exactly two conference games - two years ago in the league championship game, to my Spartans, and now this past weekend, their first regular-season loss in the Big Ten under coach Meyer (over nearly four full seasons!), again to my Spartans. Memo to the other twelve teams in the Big Ten - come on, you guys, somebody besides us has to figure out how to beat these guys. . .
So now, possibilities open up for us, just a bit. If we win our game next Saturday, we'll be Big Ten East Division champs, and then we'll play Iowa for the overall league championship. If we win that, we stand a decent chance of getting an invite to the 4-team national championship playoff (and if we hadn't sleep-walked our way to a loss at Nebraska, it would be more than merely a 'decent' chance; *sigh*). So, woo-hoo!, and all that. . .
And then there's this fascinating little tidbit from our two big rivalry-game wins this season - we beat both Michigan and Ohio State, and in those two games combined, the total amount of time that my Spartans were actually in the lead was - exactly zero. We never led either game, until the winning points were scored on the final play of the game. . .
Monday, November 23, 2015
Sunday, November 1, 2015
Fun With Fractions
Bijoux will like this one. . .
Recently, I got a letter from one of the oil companies with whom I hold a credit card. They were returning my check to me because their bank had returned it to them, saying that the amount of the check was not clear, and would I please send them a replacement check? WTH?? They helpfully included the offensive check with their correspondence, so I could see for myself the nature of the confusion. The amount I owed was $5.75 (we use pre-paid cards for 99% of our gas purchases; but every so often, we run out on the pre-paid card before we can reload it, so we end up putting small amounts on the credit card). And, in the box on the check, I had duly entered '5.75'. But - horror of horrors! - on the amount line, I had written 'Five and three-quarters', rather than the 'canonical' form of 'Five and 75/100'. Because, you know, sometimes you just want to have a little fun (and honestly, as fun goes, this ain't so much as all that) and do things a little bit differently, 'cuz that's just how I roll, sometimes. Anyhow, this was 'unclear' to the bank, so they returned my check to the oil company, and what was the oil company supposed to do? They just want their $5.75, and I want to give it to them. But the bankers were being obtuse morons (I'd like to say they were being anal-retentive obtuse morons, because of how it connotes infantile toilet-training issues, and it sounds like I'm indirectly calling them a**holes; but I won't. . .)
So I sent them their replacement check (with 'Five and seventy-five hundredths' on the amount line) (I know, I know. . .), along with a photocopy of their letter to me, on which I had copied a quarter (you know, a 25-cent coin), and circled the words 'quarter dollar' on the face of the coin. In a hand-written note, I said that they should consider changing banks to one which wasn't so easily confused as to whether 'three-quarters' was the same thing as '.75' or not, and the nature of the currency in which they trade, since the bank's stupidity had cost both of us time and aggravation. Over five bucks - and three quarters. . .
If I knew which bank it was, I'd happily tell the world, but I don't.
Morons. . .
-------------------------
Which reminds of a similar anecdote from several years ago. I was at the post office. I don't remember exactly what my business there was; probably I was mailing a package that needed to be weighed, or picking up a package with postage due, or somesuch. Anyway, the amount I owed was X dollars and 60 cents. So, in a similarly whimsical mood, I wrote a check for 'X and three-fifths' and handed it to the clerk, along with my ID. The clerk stared at the check with a withering scowl. "Three-fifths?" he asked, glaring back at me. "Why did you write 'three-fifths'?" Without waiting for my answer, he turned to a woman who I took to be his supervisor, and asked her, "Can he DO that? Three-fifths?" The supervisor looked at the check for several seconds, then at me, then back at the check, without saying a word.
At this point, the other folks in line are glaring at me, like, 'What kind of troublemaker are you? We're all here, just trying to get our packages mailed, and you're causing trouble and holding up the line. Jerk.' And I'm wondering if I'm going to need to dive under the marble countertop, 'cuz, you know, here was a postal worker, and he was getting agitated. I'm sure I was messing up his throughput metrics, and causing trouble for him with his boss. And all because some flight of fancy had induced me to write 'three-fifths' on my check.
Finally, the boss sighed, gave me another sneering glance, and said, "I guess that 'three-fifths' is the same as 60 cents," and shot me a final 'it's-people-like-you-that-make-guys-like-him-start-shooting' glance. And everyone else in line breathed easier, and I went on my way, duly chastened. And I resolved that I wouldn't deal in fifths of dollars anymore (I won't even mention the twenty-cent piece that circulated in the four years 1875-78 - one of the design proposals actually said '1/5 of a dollar' on the back - 'cuz that would only confuse things).
But I will still occasionally, when the right sort of mercurial mischief (or maybe it's the wrong sort) overtakes me, write 'tenths' or 'quarters', or 'one-half' since, you know, those fractions correspond to actual values on the coinage of the realm. . .
(*sigh*)
Recently, I got a letter from one of the oil companies with whom I hold a credit card. They were returning my check to me because their bank had returned it to them, saying that the amount of the check was not clear, and would I please send them a replacement check? WTH?? They helpfully included the offensive check with their correspondence, so I could see for myself the nature of the confusion. The amount I owed was $5.75 (we use pre-paid cards for 99% of our gas purchases; but every so often, we run out on the pre-paid card before we can reload it, so we end up putting small amounts on the credit card). And, in the box on the check, I had duly entered '5.75'. But - horror of horrors! - on the amount line, I had written 'Five and three-quarters', rather than the 'canonical' form of 'Five and 75/100'. Because, you know, sometimes you just want to have a little fun (and honestly, as fun goes, this ain't so much as all that) and do things a little bit differently, 'cuz that's just how I roll, sometimes. Anyhow, this was 'unclear' to the bank, so they returned my check to the oil company, and what was the oil company supposed to do? They just want their $5.75, and I want to give it to them. But the bankers were being obtuse morons (I'd like to say they were being anal-retentive obtuse morons, because of how it connotes infantile toilet-training issues, and it sounds like I'm indirectly calling them a**holes; but I won't. . .)
So I sent them their replacement check (with 'Five and seventy-five hundredths' on the amount line) (I know, I know. . .), along with a photocopy of their letter to me, on which I had copied a quarter (you know, a 25-cent coin), and circled the words 'quarter dollar' on the face of the coin. In a hand-written note, I said that they should consider changing banks to one which wasn't so easily confused as to whether 'three-quarters' was the same thing as '.75' or not, and the nature of the currency in which they trade, since the bank's stupidity had cost both of us time and aggravation. Over five bucks - and three quarters. . .
If I knew which bank it was, I'd happily tell the world, but I don't.
Morons. . .
-------------------------
Which reminds of a similar anecdote from several years ago. I was at the post office. I don't remember exactly what my business there was; probably I was mailing a package that needed to be weighed, or picking up a package with postage due, or somesuch. Anyway, the amount I owed was X dollars and 60 cents. So, in a similarly whimsical mood, I wrote a check for 'X and three-fifths' and handed it to the clerk, along with my ID. The clerk stared at the check with a withering scowl. "Three-fifths?" he asked, glaring back at me. "Why did you write 'three-fifths'?" Without waiting for my answer, he turned to a woman who I took to be his supervisor, and asked her, "Can he DO that? Three-fifths?" The supervisor looked at the check for several seconds, then at me, then back at the check, without saying a word.
At this point, the other folks in line are glaring at me, like, 'What kind of troublemaker are you? We're all here, just trying to get our packages mailed, and you're causing trouble and holding up the line. Jerk.' And I'm wondering if I'm going to need to dive under the marble countertop, 'cuz, you know, here was a postal worker, and he was getting agitated. I'm sure I was messing up his throughput metrics, and causing trouble for him with his boss. And all because some flight of fancy had induced me to write 'three-fifths' on my check.
Finally, the boss sighed, gave me another sneering glance, and said, "I guess that 'three-fifths' is the same as 60 cents," and shot me a final 'it's-people-like-you-that-make-guys-like-him-start-shooting' glance. And everyone else in line breathed easier, and I went on my way, duly chastened. And I resolved that I wouldn't deal in fifths of dollars anymore (I won't even mention the twenty-cent piece that circulated in the four years 1875-78 - one of the design proposals actually said '1/5 of a dollar' on the back - 'cuz that would only confuse things).
But I will still occasionally, when the right sort of mercurial mischief (or maybe it's the wrong sort) overtakes me, write 'tenths' or 'quarters', or 'one-half' since, you know, those fractions correspond to actual values on the coinage of the realm. . .
(*sigh*)
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