I'm ok.  Really.  It was touch and go there for a little while, but I think I'm through the worst of it.  I'm eating solid foods again and haven't broken anything or wept like a small child in at least a few hours, so that's an improvement.  I think I'm actually starting to make sense of it all.  After having twenty-four hours to process what happened, here's what I've come up with: Just because I showed the commitment as a Gator fan to watch them play at 1 am England time and stayed up until 4:30 am, that doesn't mean they have to reciprocate by actually showing up in the first half and playing a respectable caliber of football, right?  I mean, if they want to sleep-walk through an entire half, that's their prerogative.  If they want to put on a first-half performance so utterly bereft of intensity and focus that it leaves me wishing I had elected to have someone beat me with a dull instrument rather than watch them spot an inferior team a fourteen point lead, more power to them.  Go Gators!!  All I know is that the next time they have a night game, I'll be enjoying the replay on Sunday morning with multiple Bloody Marys to help numb the pain should they decide to take the week off.

In all seriousness, this is precisely what makes college football the greatest sport out there - unpredictable eighteen to twenty-one year-olds consistently doing the unthinkable.  Consider for a minute the fact that going into Saturday night's game with Auburn, Florida had not lost a game since last year - to Auburn.  It was the only blemish during a National Championship run, leaving Saturday's game as the perfect opportunity for revenge.  Even better was the fact that it was an 8 pm kick-off, which gave our players an opportunity to watch six of the top thirteen teams in the country lose earlier in the day and give deep consideration to the fact that it was indeed possible to lose to Auburn.  The Gators entered Saturday's game armed with the ultimate motivator - revenge, and multiple reminders that any team in the country can lose to any other team if they don't come out ready to play, courtesy of six of the other top thirteen teams.  All the forces were perfectly aligned to ensure a Gator victory.  But none of it mattered.  None of it mattered because no matter how many times the coaches reminded our players of what Auburn did to us last year, and what had happened to six other highly-ranked teams earlier in the day, in the players' hearts, they didn't believe it could happen to them.  They walked on the field expecting to win by virtue of showing up, and by the time they realized that wasn't going to get it done, it was too little too late.  It's no coincidence that our loss came the week before we play LSU in one of the most anticipated games of the year, or that both Texas and Oklahoma lost the week before they play in their historic rivalry.  All three teams thought they were infallible and spent too much time thinking about next week instead of focusing on the task at hand.  The eighteen to twenty-one year old mind - what a mysterious and unpredictable place.  Of course, it's also what makes college football the most exciting game in America.

The 2007 SportDork birthday celebration has finally come to a close!!  The final shipment arrived yesterday from none other than The SportDork's parental units (the "Units"), and is nothing short of a home run.  I present item #1:

Yes, plastic cups.  Believe it or not, you can't find plastic cups anywhere over here.  I have figured out that anything disposable that may have a less than positive impact on the environment is difficult to find over here.  Disposable plates, disposable silverware, disposable cups - disposable anything is tough to get your hands on.   And I do the dishes, so I LOVE disposable cups.  Plus, there's something about drinking out of a red 16-ounce plastic cup that makes me feel like I'm back at a kegger in college.  Who's up for a keg stand??  Anyone?

Here comes the real coup de grace to the 2007 SportDork birthday celebration (as well as the last image of birthday presents that you will have to endure - I swear):

A batch of Mom's home-made Pecan Sandies.  This is huge.  These bad boys DO NOT get made outside of the Christmas Season - ever.  Even during Christmas, there are very limited production runs and inventory is closely guarded.  The fact that I scored a box of these in September is unprecedented.  The only thing I can figure is that Mom is still on a high from being a new grandmother and is spreading the joy.  If I'm right, then all I can say is, "Hey Jules - let's get going on number two so I can land some more Pecan Sandies!!"  I can't believe these even made it through customs.  They should have been identified as an illicit substance and confiscated.  These things are like crack-rock - I give them less than a week before total annihilation.  The Tupperware container that I put them in was "accidentally" too small, so I had to eat four of them that wouldn't fit.

The best part of this present is that last week, after viewing the picture of me on SportDork.com in the "Birthday Suit" entry, Mom happily commented that I looked like I had lost some weight and commended me for the effort.  (Actually, I believe her exact words were, "Honey, have you lost some weight?  You look a little less 'jowly'.")  So what do I get this week?  A batch of crack-rock Pecan Sandies.  Go Mom.

I have to mention that this is not the first England shipment we have received from my Mom.  A few weeks after we got here, I mentioned to her that we couldn't find any taco seasoning mix at the grocery store (go figure).  Before we moved, Mom had mentioned to me on multiple occasions that if there was anything we needed, I should let her know and she would send it to us.  Well, upon hearing about the taco seasoning situation, she leaped  into action, and a week later, we had our first official "care package":

Taco Seasoning.  You'll notice that the packages are labeled "40% Less Sodium."  Before they arrived, Mom called and told me the taco seasoning packs were on their way, adding, "Listen - I know you're gonna give me sh*t about this, so I'm gonna tell you now - I sent you low sodium taco seasoning.  But the only reason is because that's all they had at the store.  They were out of the regular kind." 

I share this story for two reasons.  First, because I find it highly entertaining that Mom recognized that I would give her a hard time about the low sodium and proactively addressed it before I could even go there (because I absolutely would have).  The second, and even more entertaining reason, is that while I didn't indicate that there was any kind of taco seasoning crisis that required a high priority shipment, Mom heard that we needed taco seasoning, and dammit, she was gonna send some taco seasoning.  She wasn't gonna wait until they got regular taco seasoning in stock.  By then it might be too late.  She wasn't gonna wait and include it with some other stuff that we might subsequently identify that we need.  She was sending taco seasoning, come hell or high water, and if they didn't have any regular, then we were getting low sodium.  But we were getting taco seasoning, and we were getting it ASAP.  Her son says he needs taco seasoning - he's getting taco seasoning - period.  This, my friends, is only one of the reasons I love my Mom.  Go Mom!!

Back to The Ibiza Chronicles!! 

We were the first ones on the EasyJet flight to Ibiza, but being first on the plane isn't as great as it sounds.  It brings with it a whole host of paralyzing options - front or back?  Left or right?  The plane also had one of those delightful 3-3 seating designs that are so great at accommodating groups of two or four, which just adds another layer of complexity.  I wouldn't mind having a word with the guy who came up with the 3-3.  You know, just so I could ask him WHAT THE F&^* he was thinking when he came up with it.  I'm an exit row junkie because of the additional leg room, so we ended up going straight for the two exit rows in the middle of the plane.  I'm ashamed to admit I made a rookie error and went with the first exit row.  Critical mistake in judgment.  The exit row seats don't recline, so if you are in the first exit row, you can't put your seat back, but the guy in front of you, who is not in an exit row, can, which can really jam you up.  In the second exit row, you don't run into this problem, because even though your seat doesn't recline, neither does the seat in front of you.  Fortunately this error wasn't enough to derail the entire vacation. 

The other bit of "strategery" that we employed was that I sat in the aisle seat and Mrs. SportDork sat in the window seat, leaving the middle seat open.  This is First Come, First Served Seat Selection 101, so I apologize if I'm boring you by sharing such an elementary move.  As any wise veteran of first-come, first served airlines will tell you, people who come on board after you are less likely to select the unattractive, open middle seat between two people than an open aisle or window seat, which decreases the likelihood that anyone will actually sit in your row.  I was a little worried that some big, strapping muscular guy might see an open seat next to Mrs. SportDork and decide the middle seat wasn't so unattractive after all, throwing a wrench in our elaborate seat strategy.  Mrs. SportDork didn't seem too concerned.  She said something like, "If that happens, we'll just have to make the best of it.  I'll be fine."  Mrs. SportDork.  She's so understanding. 

Once we had taken our respective positions, I shifted into First Come, First Served Seat Selection 401, which is an advanced level course.  You may have noticed that I took the aisle seat, while Mrs. SportDork took the window.  This was not by accident.  I am a lot bigger and taller than Mrs. SportDork, so I pose a more daunting obstacle for anyone thinking about claiming that middle seat.  The other reason I took the aisle seat is because I am willing to go "Golden Globe" to ensure no one attempts to claim the middle seat, while Mrs. SportDork is not.  Let's just say that one of us has a higher level of commitment to keeping the middle seat clear than somebody else.  Once in my aisle seat, I don my large white neck pillow, shift as far toward the middle seat as possible, and pretend to be asleep while other passengers board.  I tilt my torso and neck toward the middle seat and put my arm all over the arm rest, just to make sure the middle seat looks as small and unattractive as possible.  And then, to complete the mission, with my torso and head tilted toward the middle seat, I hack and wheeze repeatedly as the boarding passengers walk by, indicating that not only would their selection of our middle seat represent a physically uncomfortable experience for the next two hours, but it would also likely result in them contracting some kind of nasty upper-respiratory illness.  Oh yeah - I also wear shorts and spread my legs out.  I think you've seen enough pictures of my follicles on these pages to understand why that's an effective move.

Surprisingly, no one sat next to us on the flight to Ibiza.  I can't believe we got that lucky.

Once in Ibiza, we successfully made out way to the hotel and checked in.  At this point we were greeted with a beautiful sight:

An actual queen size bed.  Tears of joy were shed by the SportDorks, followed by a tender embrace, followed by . . . . . . . . .  the best night of sleep either of us has had in two months.  Don't get me wrong - I love our full size bed here in England.  It's really been great for my personal hygiene.  We sleep in such close proximity that I'm forced to brush my teeth every night and wash my hair daily just so I don't put my wife into some kind of odor coma.  But I have to admit that you sleep much better when you're not worried about crushing your spouse every time you flip over.

In the bathroom, we discovered what separates a four-star from a three-star hotel in Europe:

Two toilets!!!!

I know, I know, it's a bidet.  I begged Mrs. SportDork to let me use it so I could provide an in depth report to my SportDork readers (technique, seating position, optimal water pressure, etc.), but she was afraid I would hurt myself.  I filled it with ice and used it to chill our beer.

On Friday - actual pictures of the beach!!

Here is a gratuitous shot of the coast of Ibiza:

I include this picture for no other reason than a) some of you may be getting skeptical that we ever even went to Ibiza and b) I'm a little concerned that if I don't include at least one substantive picture in this entry, I might get some angry reader comments.