Catholic Memorial

I went to Catholic school almost my entire life, from a very young age in Medford, Mass., to middle school in Reading, Mass., to high school in West Roxbury, Mass., and eventually graduating from Albany, New York. In total I actually attended five high schools in my day, Catholic Memorial (Mass.), Reading High (Mass.), Lawrence Academy (Mass.), Fossil Ridge High (Texas), and Catholic Central (New York). No, my old man was not in the military. I was a hockey junkie, and went wherever the game took me from the time I was thirteen to today even.

This post isn't about my hockey journey, or about all of the schools I attended, it's about one place, and one place only. Catholic Memorial High School. The school itself is located in West Roxbury, Massachusetts. There are no female students. It's an all-male school, with uniforms (dress shirt and tie), the majority of the students are Irish-Catholic, and many of the guys came from South Boston, Charlestown, and Dorchester. For those of you unfamiliar with the Boston area, I'm not going to try to explain those towns to you. You wouldn't understand it anyway. The school was loaded with thick Boston accents, wiseasses, punks, tough guys, wimpy kids, and athletes. Some of the guys were a little bit of everything. The teachers were no different than the students. If you were a female teacher then you had to watch yourself constantly. I'm not goofing either. Some of those ladies got it tough, and not just from the students.

Anyways, we all prided ourselves on being original. Even if you weren't an inner city kid, you tended to act like you were (my brother took that part of it to heart for sure). Everybody in the place thought they were a wiseass, and if you weren't then you quickly learned to become one. It was out of necessity. You had to take care of yourself because people were always coming after you with some kind of bullshit. The hockey players always got a lot of respect, mostly because we were one of the most highly touted high school hockey programs in the country. "CM" won the Massachusetts state championship yearly (at least they did before I got there, and during my time in high school), and was ranked nationally with the top Division 1 high school programs, year after year. We ran the school basically.

This school used to see some really bizarre shit. One time everybody came out of homeroom after the bell and we saw that somebody had just taken a dump in the middle of the hallway. Hilarious. Guys used to draw penises on the shirt of the kid sitting in front of them in class, just because they could. Then this donkey would get up and have about 20 ding-a-lings scribbled on the back of his nice white button-down. We had one teacher who happened to be blessed with a massive chest, well, guys used to open all the windows in her classroom during the winter just to watch her nipples harden up. Then everybody would start throwing out "turkey's done" and we would keep track of how many we could get out before she closed up the windows. Comedy.

After we won the state tournament my Junior year, we all went out and got completely bamboozled (obviously). We weren't supposed to get "allowances" for winning the tournament, but we did any way. We all walked in to school the next day, three or four hours late, and smelling like the inside of a brewery. That might have been the day we dissected frogs in biology and two of my teammates were taking bets to eat the insides. The yellow intestines shit smelled awful, I remember. They did it any way. Or maybe it was the day we were supposed to dissect chicken fetuses, but instead we all took trips to the bathrooms with the eggs and smashed them all over the walls. It was an interesting lecture when the teacher went to the bathroom and found about fifty dead fetuses plastered all over the place. I don't know. I don't remember. Part of my problem is that I've seen so much weird crap in my day, between high school to now, that I can hardly remember any of the good stuff. I guess I'll just have to keep on writing until I remember...

Nashville Predators

Preds game with Billy Ray and Stray cat.

Smashville, Tennessee

Tootsie's in Nashville with Mom, Dad, and a Stray cat.

Fight For Success

"You have to remind yourself that failure isn't about lack of skill. It's about passion. Those who fail don't reach greatness, because they're not willing to wait for it."- Georges St-Pierre

For those of you who don't know... this is it. This is literally what it's all about, in all aspects of life. No matter what you want in this world, you have to wait for it. Period. Skills really will only get you so far, no matter how skilled you may be. Everybody fails. It's a part of life. The question is, how much failure can you take before you can say that you have got yourself to where you truly want to be? A wise man once told me, "Success is getting up one more time than you fall down." Sure, it's one hell of a cliche. Personally, I hate cliches. I think they're bullshit. People throw them around and use them as crutches, but they never really embrace their meaning. However, it doesn't mean that they can't be true. I've failed in so many aspects of my life that it's a miracle I still have motivation sometimes. True, that sounds a bit dramatic, but I'm twenty-six years of age, and what have I accomplished that honestly sets me apart from others in this world? Nothing monumental. Nothing life changing. Who knows, maybe I never will. One thing I do know for sure, more now than ever, is that I will still be standing. No matter what obstacle, no matter what opponent, nobody or no thing is too great. It's all about standing there toe-to-toe with your life, and saying, "F*** you, I'm taking what's mine." That's the bottomline. Take what you will from it, but I encourage you to take a very close look at yourself, your life's direction, and where you want to be. Now, be prepared to fail, and be prepared to wait for success. Wait. Like your life depends on it. Because, the truth is... it does.

Karing 4 Keegan

This is my little buddy, Keegan Chupp. Keegan is battling some unimaginable health issues, and is very much in need of our help. He was born six-weeks premature, due to his mother's pre-eclampsia, and was hospitalized in the NICU for two-weeks after his birth. Upon his arrival into this world, it was discovered that Keegan had two extra digits, one on each hand, and one extra toe. He was also found to have suffered a stroke in utero, and to have an overgrowth syndrome referred to as "Simpson-Golobi-Behmel Syndrome."

At eight-months old, Keegan still continued to battle serious health issues and challenges. He had a tumor removed from his brain, and battled through six-months of hospitalization while being administered chemo-therapy. The doctor's gave him only a fifty-percent chance of survival. His mother, Beth Chupp, lost her job on Keegan's first day of chemo-therapy. Even still, Keegan and his family continued to battle, and eventually the tumor appeared to dissipate.

Most recently, as of late July, another tumor was discovered on Keegan's brain. Initially it was feared to be the same tumor. Thankfully (if that is even a word that can be used regarding the situation), it turned out to be a new tumor, thus not a recurring version of the original, which is vital.

At the moment, Keegan has completed his fourth-round of chemo-therapy, and is happily living with his family in Evansville, Indiana. They have all been through so much together, and their journey will continue forward each day until they accomplish their team goal of defeating this difficult opponent.

In closing, I ask that all of my friends, family, and blog followers take their time to say a prayer for Keegan and his family. If you wish to make a donation then please visit their website, http://karingforkeegan.blogspot.com/, and find it in your hearts to give generously.