Signs you're stuck in the 90s

The co-writer of this blog, Casey, has a bit of a crises sometimes when it comes to what decade he's living in. You see, he still connects to the internet via dial-up, says things like rad and tubular, and watches the movie "Speed" a lot.

Let me be the first to say that he has a bit of a problem. Those are some of the warning signs, but if you are also questioning what decade you think you're living in, here are some red flag warnings.

You're still asking people if they think OJ Simpson is innocent - Meanwhile, he's in jail still looking for the killer of Nicole Brown. Good job.

You're wearing a Colorado Rockies jacket along with a Charlotte Hornets basketball jersey - Two mainstay sports paraphernalia items that every 10-15 year-old wore during the 1990s.

Your still have to pump-up your shoes before you go out - They give you at least a foot of extra jumping height.

Now if you will excuse me, I have to go check out my new Alice in Chains record.

Unfortunate athletic events in the life of Brandon Hansen

I've had a terrible life as a human being. Along with the lists of most worthless people, I have a spot carved out for me between Mike Brown of FEMA and NBA player Brian Scalabrini.

If one were to write a book about athletic failures of the fullest degree, it would actually just be a chronicle of my life. Lets go down the list...

Seven years old -- Manage to give up the only home run ever hit in T-ball history when manning the mound for the Hansen Logging mites.

Get a custom-made Chicago Cubs hat with my name on the side. For the next 16 years I never get the thing dirty.

Eight years old -- Move to coach-pitch little league, my batting average immediately plummets below the winning percentage of the Washington Generals.

I quickly become a San Francisco Giants fans because they employ strangely skinny guys with funny moustaches, a physique I hope to someday repeat. However once I reach manhood I realize that those skinny guys with funny moustaches have grown their head to the size of rhino and they shaved the facial hair.

10 years old -- Pitching machine league. Guess who mans the pitching machine?

12 years old -- Player pitch. Guess who moves from the mound to the outfield?

(7th Grade Football) Coach doesn't give me shoulder pads, says that I wont "need them."
He does however, give me a plastic tub of Gatorade and tells me to haul it to the team bus.

7th Grade Football Stats -- one fumble recovery, during the all important "fifth quarter" of the game.

14 years old -- Get paired with the kid that catches a baseball with his chest (and cant afford a glove) during high school baseball tryouts. Needless to say, I wasn't on the squad.

Funny thing, during the tryouts they never let me bat.

15 years old -- Finish my year on JV football with this stateline --140 pounds of weight, 8 games, 1 sack and one four-minute celebration.

(Two encroachment penalties as well)

15 years old (B) -- Max out on my possible bench press amount: part of the set for a high school play that I was doing.

Play stats -- Lenny from Of Mice and Men, some dude in Godspell and numerous one-act plays.

17 years old -- Win my only race in track and field ever. Then I realize my coach signed me up for the Special Olympics.

18 years old -- My snowboarding experience scares small children as they see a large snow ball roll by on the slopes.

20 years old -- A brief stint in college basketball intramurals leads to me earning a reputation of a "hard fouler of girls" among the upper divisions of competition.

22 years old -- I now get winded walking up a small hill with slight grade.

... and I think I just had a small heart attack writing this blog.