Why I don't drink anymore

BY Terrance Gavan

I have no idea who this guy is. Deadspin says he's a millionaire.

Anyway the guy is short and obnoxious.

And sadly it could have been me 15 years ago.

March 20, 1998 I realized I was allergic to alcohol.

One Tequila and I used to turn into this guy.

Crazy as Batshit You Tuber of da' week.

God help all the stupid drunks.

I'd say there was a solution but ??? this guy?? hmmm.

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Cherry V Ovechkin - Alex Stays - Cherry Goes Reprinted Voice

“The Washington Capitals’ Alex Ovechkin celebrated his 50th goal by putting his stick on the ice and then mimed warming his hands over it. Some observers called it hot-dogging; when Alex was a toddler in the Soviet Union it was called central heating.” — Comedian Torben Rolfsen, on the Web site of Vancouver’s The Province.

Alex Ovechkin’s Hot Celebration Leaves Pundits Fuming
The Burning Stick Routine Looked Good from here
By Terrance Gavan - Reprinted from County Voice arhives
Let’s get one thing straight.
Alex Ovechkin isn’t trying to rekindle the Cold War.
He hasn’t invaded Czechoslovakia.
He hasn’t moved any strategic missiles into Cuba.
And he has not, as far as I am aware, popped poison from an umbrella tip into any rogue secret agents.
So far he has no ties extant to the Russian mob.
He’s a young Russian hockey player.
He obviously loves playing the game.
He brings exuberance, excitement and a certain joie de vivre to this game.
Maybe we should just leave the kid alone.
Maybe the pundits, like Michael Farber (Sports Illustrated, TSN’s The Reporters) and Toronto Star’s Damien Cox, and yes, maybe even Don Cherry should just cut him some slack.
The three guys above, who all get paid a King’s ransom for popping off like popinjays at all things hockey, have taken fulsome swings at young Alex the Great for his on-ice celebrations.
Last Sunday on TSN’s The Reporters both Farber and Cox slavered loopily on about Ovechkin’s inappropriate celebration after scoring his 50th goal of the season.
For those of you who haven’t had a chance to see it during the 2,134 replays on TSN, it involves young Alex dropping his stick as if it’s too hot handle, and then warming his hands over the presumed flickering flames on the titanium shaft.

Hypochondria and my dog Billie Jean

This is not Billie Jean. But it's funny as hell!

Victimized again by Rev. Donald Francis Gavan
By Terry Gavan
I am a confirmed hypochondriac.
I blame it on my upbringing and I pin it specifically on my uncle, the Reverend Donald Francis Gavan.
Gav was wildly cognizant of every working part of his slowly discombobulating body.
A chronic worrier.
A serial hypochondriac.
Now the medical definition of the disease states that:
“A person who has hypochondriasis, a disorder characterized by a preoccupation with body functions and the interpretation of normal body sensations (such as sweating) or minor abnormalities (such as minor aches and pains) as portending problems of major medical moment. Reassurance by physicians and others only serves to increase the hypochondriac's persistent anxiety about their health.”
The Reverend Donald Francis never actually took these minor complaints to his doctor.
He did however bring it constantly and continuously to his rather large extended family in Ottawa.
He was a constant presence at Saturday and Sunday Gavan family dinners.
His own hypochondria was enormously and prodigiously enlarged when confronted by other people’s maladies.
He was a “hypochondriac chart topper” taking extravagant and almost Rambo-like zeal in medical one-upmanship 
If you had a cold … Uncle Don had the Asian Flu.

Tuckin’ sweepin’ and shootin’ in Beausejour Manitoba



Young Kris Kirkness knocked our Ehinger foursome out
of the Beausejour Manitoba Classic. He's 85 pounds of dy-no-mite!


Beaten by a Baby-Faced Assassin
By Terry Gavan
Beausejour – The wind was whipping off the tarmac at about 57 mph when I stepped off the plane at Winnipeg International Airport last Friday.

It was, I think, -22 without the wind, and in Winnipeg, they don’t do wind chills on days like that. Why bother. Freakin’ cold is just freakin’ cold. We don’t need frugal embellishments.

“It’s cold in the city today, with the wind out of the Northwest gusting to 60 and… good news. The temperatures are rising,” says the CJOB radio announcer. “High today of -20 and that cold snap that’s been with us for the past week is finally over. The sun is shining and it’s a glorious day Winnipeg!”

I looked over at my ride, Winnipeg Free Press Weeklies Editor John Kendle, and said: “Is he being ironic?”

“Nope,” laughed Kendle. “It was -30 all week, you lucked out.”

Luckier yet, I was headed kinda’ south to Beausejour, about 45 minutes from Portage and Main.

I arrived in the Beau just in time for our first draw in the Beausejour Men’s Curling Crunch at 7 pm Friday night.

New Year’s evolutions – and looking between life’s trees

Terry at the Rogers Cup nailed
this beaut of a pic. Photo by Gav

Gav on Sports

By Terry Gavan

   Wow what a year.

   I got lucky, very lucky last spring.

   I joined the curling club here in Haliburton.

   I - thanks to the gentle cajole of soccer guru and Haliburton Soccer Club pres Amy Klose - also joined the soccer executive.

   I played some tennis. Played some hoops. Rode some bike up at Sir Sam’s.

   I played summer league soccer and coached some kids on the pitch.

   Somewhere in all of this newfound freedom and zeal I also found the time and wherewithal to referee a few games of hoops for Hal High coach Roland Zilla.

   I got to watch a great group of Haliburton athletes compete on field, floor and ice.

   I went to the Roger’s Cup – thanks Jackie – and met a friend in Toronto. We played tennis at the Beaches, and watched four of the top tennis players in the world (Roger Federer, Rafa Nadal, Andrew Murray and Novak Djokovic) duke it out at York University’s Roger’s Tennis Centre.

   Last spring I also happened upon the best job ever.

   The County Voice underwent a sea change and I was lucky enough to fall into this part time gig covering sports in County Haliburton. I am not even mildly offended at being left off the Voice masthead. I think that will come when I hit 2,000,000 words - so I’m thinking January 1, 2012.

   (I throw that in just to see if Editor Patrick thinks it’s a passive aggressive swipe, which it ain’t. Which is part of the fun of working at the Voice, a nice rural paper.)

   I traveled to the Grey Cup in Edmonton and I’m on the road to Beausejour Manitoba this weekend to take part in the annual men’s bonspiel.

   I leave for Winnipeg on Friday and return on Monday just in time to complete my copy for next week’s Voice.

   I’m lucky because I’m happy right now.

Greg Walsh spun back behind the bench

Gav on Sports

By Terry Gavan

Greg Walsh is back! Where he belongs. Behind the bench
after duking it out against OMHA and Hockey Canada!

Here’s what we know about Greg Walsh, an erstwhile minor league hockey coach from Peterborough.

   Greg Walsh runs a NAPA auto parts dealership and boy is his district supervisor happy that Greg loves wearing that NAPA jacket.

   Talk about an unplanned advertising windfall. Walsh has been wearing that jacket nonstop since he went viral in early December and we are hoping that the NAPA district supervisor comes big at Greg this Christmas.

   Who the hell is Greg Walsh?

   Greg Walsh has been on the National with Carol MacNeil.

   He’s been a featured story on front pages across Canada.

   Greg is a cause célèbre.

   Because Greg Walsh stood up to the jacked-up patriarchal bureaucrats that run minor hockey here in Canada.

   Walsh said no to racism when he pulled his NAPA Auto Parts team from a game way back on Nov. 15.

Blake Griffin Dunkenstein - Crazy as Batshit!

Bringin' Da' DAP back to Da Dunk

By Terry Gavan

The NBA's all star dunking contest has come under scrutiny over the last two decades.

Gone are Dominique, David Thompson, Chocolate Thunder, and Dr J (Julius Erving).

Erving, whose overall majestic air time presence is the guy who made the contest possible.

A dunk is after all just a dunk - until the wow factor imposes its je ne sais quoi imprimatur.

We've lost the wow. Today's dunkesters. like Dwight Howard et al, use costumes, or fanfare to embellish the raw act.

When the Doc took off from the foul line stretched wings and plowed ball through waiting hoop the art was in the detail.

Human form in free fall and the rest was just logical end.

Welcome Blake Griffin and let's hope he brings back da' DAP to Da' Dunk!

Enjoy peeps ... Dr. Dunkenstein for your pure enjoyment!

I met the Good Samaritan on Christmas Eve

Image via Wikipedia

Twas the night before Christmas and I’m locked out of my Jeep in a tee shirt at Coby … Merry f@&*ing Christmas!

By Terrance Gavan  

Twas the night before Christmas

And to Lindsay I’m fled

Thoughts of a car wash

Scream through my head

My blue Jeep is spattered

With tinges of grey

OCD says to smite

All that salt, sand and clay

I stop at Old Coby

Big garage on the hill

In tee shirt and jeans

I egress to the shrill

Noise of the hoses

At work in the bays

My dog Bille Jean

Jumps into the fray

She loves to chase water

As it spurts from the tip

And inside the car

She prances and trips

And I’m not even worried

I left keys in ignition

I know that Jeep knows

By mere intuition

Never to allow me

To lock keys inside

It balks when I push the

lock and load slide