|
tnutrojanfan24
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Tim Country: United States State: Tennessee Metro: Nashville Birthday: 4/14/1985 Gender: Male
Interests: Let's see, there's God, girls, and then my sports. Now this is going to be a long list because many people are confused about what a "sport" is, so here goes: Baseball, Hockey, Football, Basketball, Racing (pretty much all kinds), Golf, Tennis, and anything else that requires athletic ability AND has a quantifiable scoring system (this means NO JUDGES!!!!). I also like to spend time hanging out with my TNU network of friends. Expertise: Useless Sports Knowledge...that's my strong point. I can tell you who holds just about every record in American Professional sports (and for a lot of the Baseball and Hockey ones, I can tell you when they set it and who they set it against...lol). I have no life. Occupation: Student
Message: message me AIM: Umhockeyfan
Member Since:
4/7/2005
|
|
| I don't know why, but I have the urge to write on here tonight. I've been on kind of a roller coaster lately, and it's really starting to get to me. I see people all around me having all kinds of fun and being happy, etc. and I just can't seem to enjoy much of anything lately. I'm stressed out to the max and it's even starting to creep into my walk with God. I have been slacking on going to church on Sundays lately, and the reason is so ridiculous it's pathetic. Since early August, every time I go with my roommates to TCC we end up going to eat/hang out after church. This wasn't a problem all summer, but the third weekend of August, my ex moved back and began attending TNU in the same master's program I'm in. Well, she ends up hanging out with our group b/c she's good friends with Jessica, one of the central members of our group. I don't want things to be awkward or weird in any way, but it still hurts - and I mean hurts bad - to see my ex. I don't want to say anything b/c then it would start all kinds of drama, and I don't want to just quit going b/c that would be wrong and I would never get to see my friends. It's just wearing on me, a lot. I've cried myself to sleep the last three times I've seen her, and I'm probably going to do it again tonight. This sucks.
| | |
| So I'm sitting here in my room at my parents' house for what will be the final night of it's existence as our home. it's kind of a weird feeling. No longer will I have a retreat a half an hour away. Say good bye to the place where so many tennis balls got lost in the weeds during games of back yard baseball. Farewell to the neighborhood 'stadium' where it didn't matter the season - or the fact that there were only 4 kids here to play - there was always a game going.
It was always the standard point of reference for 'home.' Through 12 years of ups and downs, home was always right here, behind the SHHS west endzone. It was the home for so many firsts. The first house with a big yard to run around in, the first house we had built for us, the first house in which I had my own room. This was where I watched my Michigan Wolverines win their first National Title in almost five decades, where I watched with my dad and my brother as our Red Wings broke a 42 year Stanley Cup drought - never has a 12-ounce glass bottle of Coke tasted so sweet. We watched as the Cubs made the play-offs in '98, and in 2001, my brother watched on his antenna-fed TV as the Arizona Diamondbacks won the World Series while dad and I watched on the satellite which was about 2 seconds behind the rabbit ears. It was our house when I recorded my first strikeout in Little League and when I earned team MVP honors in high school basketball. It saw so many crazy nights before bible quizzes on saturdays and so many late nights after basketball and football games.
We watched countless football games from our back yard, despite the fact that neither me nor my brother ever went to the high school. It was the site of our first ever cross-country team meeting, as the home-school group began getting ready to compete. Piano recitals, street hockey and football, whiffle golf, the list goes on and on, but this was where it all happened. It saw two graduations from high school and housed eight relatives each time. It was here when I came home every weekend from Trevecca my freshman year to coach the bible quiz team. It served as a meal stop for me on my way to Lawrenceburg for basketball and football games, and as a weekend getaway when the craziness of college started to get out of hand.
This was the house where I first learned to drive, where I learned lines for plays and skits, and where I brought my first girlfriend to introduce her to my family. This is the house that dad and I built a photography studio behind in '98, taking a break to watch the Kentucky Derby, only to have the roof trusses we had temporarily rigged in place come tumbling down in a domino effect. It was where so many camping trips started and ended, and a stopping point for grandma and grandpa Barnard on the way to Memorial Day festivities in Indiana every year.
Sure it had some things wrong with it. The front door was hung backwards, the air-conditioner above my room flooded onto my ceiling one summer, and the toilets would occasionally plug-up if you looked at them crosseyed, but it wasn't a big deal: this was our home. We always fixed the problems as they arose, and moved on.
My brother and I built our own beds in the garage, and finished our own desks there. There was a photography darkroom out there that dad used to develop black and white pictures, and he occasionally would take us out there so we could see how the process went. Our house was the neighborhood sports equipment headquarters, with the other kids often leaving their gloves in our garage because it was just easier that way.
So good bye old friend. Our season ticket has expired here. No more 50-yard line with a tree in it. No more home runs into the street. No more night games during football season or whiffle golf with the patio as the green. The home team has reached an agreement with another city, in another state, with a bigger fan base. Thanks for giving us 12 great years. I can assure you, I will never forget you.
| | |
| So today, I discovered the joy of giving blood...the ENTIRE joy of it.
I got registered to give, and it didn't take long at all. I had to wait
through a couple computer crashes, but in the grand scheme of things,
it wasn't important to me...giving that pint was what mattered, since I
myself almost needed one just a month ago. I read the little sheet,
followed all the instructions but I had one little monkey wrench thrown
into the whole process...your favorite rush hour nightmare and mine...a
major traffic jam. I 24 East and Briley Parkway: the scene of my
nightmare.
It was about 4:30 when I hit the trail, headed to my job calling the
Lawrence County Wildcats, who were playing in the District 8-AAA boys
basketball consolation game which was scheduled to tip-off at 6:30.
Plenty of time - even having to allow for traffic, right? Haha. Oh if I
had only known what I was in for. Just 2 miles from where I merged into
Interstate traffic, there was a MAJOR wreck. It was such a bad wreck,
that it took 45 minutes to traverse those two miles. I booked it to try
to get to the game, no longer was my focus on eating first, but rather
not missing the tip-off. I made it just in time, having just five
minutes to spare, and I hurriedly got ready to take the air.
The first quarter went off without a hitch, and the Wildcats held a 9-5
lead after one period of play. I was going along just fine at the
midway point of the second stanza, when with about 3:40 to play, I felt
a strange sensation. I took off my headphones, with LCHS up 14-13, and
waved down the Shelbyville radio crew, saying only "I need some sugar
or I'm gonna pass out." Mere milliseconds later, I apparently slumped
over, down for the count. Meanwhile across the gym, the sister of one
of my friends on the team got a call from her grandma - "Tell your
momma to go check on our buddy, I think something's wrong."
When I came to, the game had reached the half, there were about 20
people standing around me, including Nick's mom, and I had members of
the Shelbyville training staff brining me sugary beverages to try to
regulate my blood sugar levels. I sat back up while Mickey Dunn, LCHS's
principal, took the air and explained to the public back in
Lawrenceburg what had happened. They helped me to the hospitality room,
and I got some food and sugar in my system and went back to the
broadcast location in time to call the fourth quarter, and the Wildcats
pulled out the win 43-33.
Lesson learned: Keep granola bars, etc. in the car in case of traffic jams after having donated blood.
Until next time, this is your light-headed buddy Tim Shay. TSPN
| | |
| Well this certainly has been a tough week. We always come to Florida for christmas to visit our grandparents for Christmas and this year was to be no exception. We had planned to leave on the 20th to come down for this years trip, but early in the morning on the 19th, we got a call from our cousin Sheryl informing us that our Grandma and Grandpa Barnard's house was on fire. We rushed to get packed, but before we got on the road, we got another call from Sherly telling us that Grandma was ok, but Grandpa hadn't gotten out. I always looked forward to the Christmas trips to Zephyrhills to visit them, because Grandpa always had something interesting for us kids to help him with. He had a small, one story house sitting on a lot next to a massive two story garage that had a capacity of three semi trucks. We always ended up in the garage at least once or twice, tinkering with this or that and just enjoying the time with him. He loved to work with his hands, and never wanted to bother anyone with something he thought he could do. The fire started in the living room and Grandpa was determined to put it out himself, but Grandma went and called 911 anyway. By the time she got back, the fire - which had been a small one mostly confined to the couch - had spread and engulfed the entire house. It has been a rough week for my family, especially Grandma, mom, and my aunts and uncles. Your prayers are greatly appreciated. "Can't never did anything" - Oakley Barnard Feb. 11, 1935-Dec. 19, 2007 | | |
| NASHVILLE, Tenn. - After announcing his retirement from the Trevecca
Intramural Association (TIA) less than three months ago, Tim Shay has
backed off his retirement statements, reaching a deal to join up with
Team Reed for the 2007 football season. His short retirement stint
recalls recent memories of NFL star Junior Seau's breif stint among the
retired before joining the New England Patriots.
Shay will join up with Team Reed, who returns a solid nucleus of
players to the team, looking to help the team keep moving in a positive
direction. "They were 1-9 three seasons ago, narrowly avoiding a
winless season, and then the next year, they posted a 7-3 mark.
Hopefully we can keep the ball rolling in a positive direction."
"We've always struggled with a lack of big men to throw the ball to"
said team captain Kevin Reed. "Tim gives us a big target over the
middle who also has experience as a blocker and a linebacker on the
defensive side of the ball, so he should fit well with our bunch."
Shay will also coach his second season of Powder Puff football, as the
coach of Hazzard, but he has yet to make a committment for the
basketball season.
| | |
|