My Day with the Dave Matthews Band–Busch Stadium, St. Louis, June 7, 2008

It’s been nearly a week, but I’m finally back home (and rediscovering the joys of unsupervised computer time–while staying with my parents, I got a glimpse of what my life would have been like had home computers been the norm when I was a teenager. And it wasn’t pretty.). And now I’m ready to give a full report on the historic first concert at the new Busch Stadium in St. Louis featuring my musical boyfriends, Dave Matthews Band (a report for which I’m sure all four of my readers have been waiting breathlessly).

First, although my title implies otherwise, I did not meet the band. Not that I didn’t try, of course, and I probably got closer to doing so than I ever have before (more on that later). So maybe next year’s my year. But despite not getting to bask in the band’s up-close-and-personal glory, the day was nonetheless filled with lots of random interesting moments that don’t even take into account the show itself which, as should go without saying considering this was DMB, was awesome. The setlist was filled with lots of what Dave termed “old shit” (“Recently” with the Water/Wine Jam and “Pay for What You Get”, a personal favorite), and on a personal note, I finally got to see “Grey Street” (one of my favorites) live. A special highlight was the encore, during which Dave put down his guitar and busted some moves while singing Sly and the Family Stone’s Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin), which the crowd happily sang along with him.

However, this One of the Most Awesome Concerts I’ve Ever Attended almost ended in personal tragedy when, after spending nearly five hours outside in the 90+ degree heat, I had to start sitting down between songs in order to avoid passing out. And anyone who knows me knows that I don’t sit down at DMB. Ever. I dance, I sing, but I don’t sit down. But when I started feeling a little woozy and getting stomach cramps during “One Sweet World,” I knew I had to either pace myself or risk leaving the show on a stretcher.

On a side note, I now have a newfound appreciation for anyone who plays outfield in Major League Baseball. Because I was sitting in what would have normally been right field and there was no air. Anywhere. At all. Of course, I’m going to assume that most Major League outfielders aren’t standing on the field breathing in hot air that’s ripe with stale beer, pot, and the sweat of several thousand of your new closest friends.

And I also have complete respect for how the band can get up there and bring it night after night, year after year, in some of the hottest summer weather. Amazing.

At any rate, I referred above to random interesting moments, but as this post is getting a little long, I think I’ll save those for later. So, for now, I’d just like to congratulate the band (and opening act The Black Crowes, who also rocked some socks off) and Busch Stadium for pulling off this historic show that was hot in every sense of the word.

March Madness, March Sadness

I love college basketball, although over the last few years I haven’t felt as though I’ve had enough time watch as many games as I’d like during a season. But no matter what I’ve got going on in my life, everything comes to a screeching halt (or, well, at least it slows down a little) during tournament time. I pay some attention to the conference tournaments, I sit glued to the TV during the Selection Show (and that’s Selection Show-capitalized. Because it’s important.), I cheer with the bubble teams that get in and pout for the ones that don’t. I listen carefully to Greg Gumble, Clark Kellogg, and Seth Davis and then choose my #9-seed-over-#8-seed upsets based on their analysis. And then I go online and fill out my bracket, which enters me in our family pool, where we play for nothing but pride. And I mean nothing but pride, because I’m sure that two weeks after the tournament is over-probably two hours after the tournament is over-nobody remembers who won. Except for last year. Because I won last year. Because I rock.

This year, however, I suck. I never expect to make it through the first and second rounds without losing at least a few teams, but this year I’m really stinking up the joint. So, to name just a few, I’d like to thank Drake, Clemson, USC, and UConn for losing in the first round and screwing me. I’d like to thank Vanderbilt, who I picked because they were a good team and not because they fell under the “pick teams whose coaches used to coach at the school where you earned your doctorate” rule (which exists-I checked), who also screwed me. I’d like to thank South Alabama for screwing me, along with Seth Davis, who screwed me by talking up South Alabama, which made me pick them in the first place (I swear, either Seth Davis or Clark Kellogg screws me every year). I’ll continue by thanking Butler, who screwed me by beating South Alabama, thus proving that Butler somehow manages to screw either my husband or me every year (and every year, one of us asks the other, “Where is Butler anyway?” Answer: Indiana. Who also screwed me, by the way). I’d like to thank Duke, who screwed me in the second round, and who I picked under the rule of “pick Duke because your cousin went to school there” even though they haven’t had a very good team the last two years. And the “Hey, Let’s Screw Amy” Grand Prize this year goes to Davidson, who I should have picked under the “pick the team who won the conference to which the school you work for belongs, because your school hasn’t been to the tournament since the mid-1990’s and doesn’t appear to be going back there anytime soon” rule (which also exists). But I didn’t pick them, and in return Davidson screwed me twice, beating Gonzaga in the first round and Georgetown in the second. And not only did Davidson screw me in both the first and second rounds, but as I had picked Georgetown to go the Final Four, they pretty much screwed me all the way to the end.

So after all this screwing around, you’d think I’d be tired and I’d just give up. But this year, as every year, I’m back for the third and fourth rounds, ripe and ready for further punishment. Since the Thursday games go on too late for me to stay up and watch and not be a zombie at work on Friday, I had to log on to the web in the morning to learn that Tennessee had screwed me by losing to Louisville. And so it continues.

And even though as the rounds wear on, my bracket does sort of align with reality (after all, three of my Final Four teams are still standing), I can suspend my desire to win our meaningless family pool long enough to root for the Cinderella. So here’s to you, Davidson, for showing that a small private school from the Big South can play with the big boys in the power conferences-I forgive you. But don’t even think you’re beating North Carolina if you get past Kansas (and I do hope you get past Kansas under the “hate the teams from the border states of the state where you grew up” rule). Because North Carolina has managed to bulldoze almost everyone in their path this year, and that’s why I’ve picked them to take the whole thing (not because I had to pick them under the “pick the major state school team from the state in which you live” rule). So enjoy your moment, Davidson, because the Madness is almost over for you.

But the Madness won’t be over for the fans until April 7 (March-April Madness?). And so at 6pm, I’ll hear that siren call from CBS (duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-DUH-duh-duh) and head right for the couch.