Ten Summer Reads

We’re less than a month from the Unofficial Start of Summer. Time to get the Summer Reads together. Here’s ten to get you through the dog days.

10. Admissions by Jean Hanff Korelitz

While you’re on a Tina Fey kick, how about . . .
9. Bossy Pants by Tina Fey

8. Twenty-Thirty by Albert Brooks

7. Sharp Objects or Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

It’s baseball season, so why not . . .
6. Calico Joe by John Grisham

With the Leo remake out this summer, there's never been a better time to re-read . . .
5. The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald

4. New York: The Novel by Edward Rutherford

If you’re planning on spending the summer doing some serious training . . .
3. Once a Runner by John L. Parker

On 5/21/13, one of the best is coming out with his new book . . .
2. And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini

As summer comes to a close, you’ll need something to get you ready for football . . .
1. Earn the Right to Win by Tom Coughlin

Read More: http://www.goodreads.com/shelf/show/summer-2013

Brian Huba
4.28.13

What's Really Happening Here?

Can we take off the American-flag t-shirts and turn down the Toby Keith for a second, and ask: What's really happening here?

Two guys living in Boston and going to college there (one of them on full scholarship) suddenly decide to blow up the Marathon then seemingly have no exit strategy when the crapola hits the fan. Then some grainy video clips come out of said guys carrying backpacks during the marathon, and suddenly they’re the guys, and then one of them is killed in a made-for-Hollywood firefight and the other is caught in a boat parked in some Bostonite’s yard. Oh yeah, we were also told that these two boys killed a young security guard/cop for no reason at all, and everyone is screaming in their Southie accents for forty-seven-cent justice.

Are they working for something larger? Maybe. But who? So they came to America, earned naturalization, went to college, all in an effort to get a foothold on a major US City to blow up a marathon then instantly be killed or incarcerated? Why not just get a degree, get an awesome job, and in the meantime chase the thousands of Boston coeds? Why not just live the American Dream, the best dream on Earth?

First question: Why would two guys living the life in Boston and going to college in one of the coolest cities in the world suddenly decide to blow up the Marathon on Patriots Day? Are you suggesting that some kid half-planned this from his dorm room at Dartmouth Mass? Then we put out this tape and execute him and that’s the end. His brother is pulled out of a parked boat the next day, and is taken past the media throng in an ambulance so nobody can actually see him. Why didn’t they carry him out on a stretcher? Why didn’t they lug him out Lee Harvey Oswald style?

The family of these two boys are SCREAMING frame job from the other side of the world. Everyone from the aunt to the father vow that these boys did not do this. Vow that they're pawns. And I ask you: What’s the evidence against them? The tape? That’s it? “But, Brian, the FBI knows a lot more than they’re telling the media.” Hiding info from the media? Hogwash. I think the Government and the Media are working together. The Govt is using the Media to be portrayed exactly how they want to be viewed by the world on the heels of this incident. They are using the TV and Internet forums to deliver a scripted, calculated response to an apparent act of war.

Did you see that outrageous display on the Boston street when they yanked suspect #2 out of that parked boat? It looked like the last scene in a bad Bruce Willis movie. Did there really need to be 98 police vehicles in that caravan behind the ambulance? It was like we were putting on a show for the rest of the world, sending a message: Don’t mess with us. Then everyone from the police chief to the mayor to the governor go podium. One after the other stepped to the mic and delivered Oscar-acceptance speeches. They were completely hamming it up for the cameras. It was like an SNL skit. But we never SAW the suspect. Why didn’t we see bin Laden either?

Three people were killed at the Boston Marathon and about a 150 were hospitalized. BUT Obama looked like a world beater announcing just hours after the bombing that we WOULD capture those responsible. Then we had them both before the weekend. The whole world is watching CNN and MSNBC again, so the media makes out like bandits. Maybe in the throes of all this Americana, Obama can get his version of Immigration Reform passed. Is that what this is about? After all, look how tough and organized he was when it came to this “horrific incident.” I can’t quite figure out what’s happening here. But we know that in the past people in power have done a lot more than kill three innocent to get their agenda executed.

Am I saying that’s what's happening here? No. I have no idea what's happening here. Now that people are singing the National Anthem again, and screaming for the brutal death of these two foreign-looking guys who blew up our beloved parade and assassinated a cop, swell from the mountaintops, I wonder who and what is about to profit from all this energy. The moments of silence will fill sports arenas and the charity concerts will come and the Boston merchandise will move like hot cakes. The GOP and the Dems will play nice for a while because “We’re all Americans at a time like this,” and politicians will ride this wave of higher office. Hell man, this bombing's making somebody a Senator or VP nominee. The FBI and Boston Police and the American Defense Personnel come off looking like rock stars on the world’s stage. CNN and MSNBC were there every step of the way, so tune in, Middle America. And Bradley Cooper is already visiting victims.

Instead of asking who stands to profit from all this energy, I guess the better question is who DOESN’T stand to profit?

Read More: http://news.msn.com/crime-justice/seeking-a-motive-behind-the-boston-bombings

Brian Huba
4.20.13

Snake Bitten

Last night was a sad moment. To see Kobe Bryant, on the ground, rubbing his ruined Achilles after another "gangsta game" was heartbreaking. But what happened to Kobe last night's been coming since November.

Sometimes the writing’s on the wall. This year’s Lakers team was snake bitten from the jump. Kobe and Dwight HATE each other. Total dysfunctional mess with a weakling in the head coach's office, a non-confrontational Euro. You need to be confrontational as hell when you got that job. Phil Jackson: He's confrontational. He made Kobe and Shaq work. They DESPISED each other.

The marquee trades that prompted talk of a championship parade this June crumbled instantly when the season started. Dwight Howard? Get real. LA's the land of Jabbar and Chamberlain and Shaq-Diesel. Steve Nash is ten years past his prime. The guy looks like that weird-haired dude at the YMCA now. LeBron would shatter Nash on a breakaway. I think he would actually kill him. I'm not being figurative. Then Jerry Buss dies. Dr. B was a great owner and knowledgeable basketball mind. His son Jim isn't yet. Sometimes a team is just doomed. Kobe’s injury? How else would this train wreck end?

Five days into the season, they fire then-coach Mike Brown way too fast. He had two years left on his deal. Miraculously, Phil Jackson, like a prophet sent from God, sweeps in and says he'll rescue this trigger-finger owner, save his rep and his PR backside, and take the Lakers all the way. Every fan in LA wants Phil. Every fan in LA hates Buss Jr. It's like a hand-delivered blessing from the Heavens. Kobe publically politicked for him. It was a no-brainer.

Here's the catch: Not only is Phil the greatest NBA coach ever, he’s also the boyfriend of Jeannie Buss, Jim’s sister. And, by all accounts, Jimmy Boy didn’t like Phil’s star power or his place at the Buss family table. So, to the collective rage of every Laker ticket holder and the astonishment of every NBA expert, Jim Buss disses Phil and hires Mike D’Antonio, even though Mike hasn't recovered from a knee surgery and can't walk. I'm sorry, you don't get a European dude to coach the Lakers. You get Phil Jackson.

Eighty mil in total salary plus luxury tax off the charts, and it was over before Dr. Buss's grave was even dug.

Despite the Lakers working themselves back into the playoff picture (barely), it was clear that D’Antonio was the wrong coach. His demeanor wasn’t right. His style wasn’t right. And on top of it all, Buss Jr. gave Mike D. a four-year deal. He sent the message: "Screw you, Phil, this is my team."

The season was a corpse. The Hollywood Drama was in high gear. And the injuries were piling up. Pau Gasol was out for like two months for a foot injury. Same injury: Eli Manning didn't miss a SINGLE start. Steve Nash got broken in half the sixth game of the year. But thank God for Kobe. 34 years old, and he's the third-leading scorer in the NBA. He's in his 17th season and he's putting up 30 points a game through the all-star break.

He played well enough to somehow reverse what this owner had created. He is having the best year of his epic NBA run. He puts four scrubs on his back every night and manages to lead them to slightly more than fifty percent victory rate. He gets injured every night then just plays the next game on it.

He's your whole franchise, your whole world, and you hire NOT the guy he wanted, even though together they brought the Lakers to the heights? You hire the guy Carmelo Anthony called a joke three months before?

With less than a week left in the season, and the Lakers clinging to their post-season lives, Kobe put together three of the biggest "are-you-kidding-me" games of his career. Against New Orleans, he scores 23 points in the fourth-quarter, after scoring only 3 in the first three. He took the game over. By the way, Kobe has played 17 seasons + another two seasons with the Olympics and all the playoff runs. He practices for three hours BEFORE practice. Do you know how much it would suck to be his wife?

The VERY next night he plays ALL 48 minutes and drops 47 against Portland in a titanic performance. This coach didn't give Kobe a single rest on the back end of a double-nighter. Then, back in LA, Kobe scores 34 against Golden State to keep the Lakers alive for the playoffs. With just a few minutes left in the game, he makes a simple move to the basket, is fouled, and his whole career goes up in smoke. Fully-torn Achilles Tendon. Not kinda torn, fully torn, gone. Out 6-9 months. The same injury that ended Barkley and Shaq. The other injury he suffered this season happened with only seconds left in the game too. Snake bitten.

I don’t know if this is the end of Kobe. I've watched his entire career. Kobe will rip your heart out and eat it right in front of you. He's a killer. Kobe's in his 17th season and is abusing people. Jordan was shot by year 15. And Jordan didn't have to cart around this bag of clowns at 34 years old. It saddens me that Kobe's legacy and the ticking clock of his incredible career was put in the hands of an owner whose daddy made the money. Kobe deserves better than what happened to him last night.

He’ll be 35 in August, dealing with an injury of this magnitude, on the books for $30-million in salary next year. It’s a tricky thing to figure out from all sides.

A good coach manages his team and his star players. He thinks bigger picture. This coach, to save his job and push this sorry team into a certain first-round playoff exit, ran Kobe Bryant's career into the ground.

After blowing out his Achilles, Kobe hobbled on one leg to the free-throw line and sank both shots. A few minutes later, the Lakers won by two points. Legend.

Read More: http://espn.go.com/los-angeles/nba/story/_/id/9167718/kobe-bryant-los-angeles-lakers-6-9-months-achilles-surgery

Brian Huba
4.13.13

The Lost Pearl

A few weeks ago we were at D'Raymond's Restaurant with a wonderful group of great friends. It was shaping up to be one of those amazing nights in life, full of food, wine, laughter. One couple was a week from having their second child. The other couple was just beginning their life together. As for me and my wife, we were on top of the world. The best was yet to come.

That night my wife lost the pearl earring out of her right ear. She was devastated, but searched the parking lot and restaurant quietly, so not to ruin anyone else's time out. That's the type of woman she is. When the rest of our party eventually got wind, I told them not to fret, promised them that she would find that pearl earring. This woman is the only good thing that has ever happened to me. She is the only thing I have ever loved. She is my good-luck charm. She is kind, and caring, and compassionate. She loves animals and never says a bad word about anybody. I believe in Darwinism. She believes in Karma. I promised all at that dinner table that she would find that pearl earring.

And . . .

The next day she went to Macy's with the one earring remaining, and they gave her a second set for free. They knew she wasn't lying. They knew she was a genuine person, and her sadness over the lost earring was real. In less than 24 hours she had three pearls instead of two. This is who she is. This is how it goes for the good ones.

But then . . .

One week later the man who delivers bread at D'Raymond's pulled a single pearl earring off the snow-and-salt covered parking lot outside the restaurant. Our waitress called us and my wife had her lost earring back. At the end of it all, she walked away with two sets of pearl earrings and more proof to me that she is an eternally blessed and charmed woman. She is the woman who saved my life when I had no hope. I am dead without her. She is always able to take the saddest, most-dire situation and make it good again. She beats the odds. She shocks the world.

Now . . .

Life has tested us once again, a much greater test, perhaps the scariest of all tests on Earth. This week our family received news about my wife that we never saw coming. I can now tell you what being in Hell is really like. I can now tell you about a level of fear that I never knew capable for a human being to feel. We planned on a pregnancy announcement this spring. Plans have changed. My family has gone to war. My world has gone dark.

In the end . . .

My wife is a charmed and blessed woman. She brings the light. Now the world is about to find out how strong of a person she is. And very soon, we will pull that missing pearl off the snow-and-salt covered parking lot of life. Soon we will be whole again. My wife will take the saddest, most-dire situation and make it good again. She is the star of our family and I can't wait to have kids with her then grow old and gray with her. There will be light again.

Brian Huba
4.7.13

What's Really for Dinner?

Did anyone hear about the GMO Bill that Barack Obama signed this week?

President Obama signed a spending bill, HR 933, into law, the “Monsanto Protection Act,” that strips federal courts of the authority to immediately halt the planting and sale of genetically modified (GMO) seed crop regardless of any consumer health concerns. In other words he’s allowing foods that have been enhanced to continue to be sold in America, despite pleas to stop it, because of the potential and probable health risks. I only bring this up because I think this is a far bigger deal (and a far quieter deal) than the legislation that has dominated the airwaves this week: Same-sex marriage.

Same-sex marriage means nothing to me. There is not a single issue in this country that I care less about than who marries who. This is a Sarah Palin issue. Don’t tell me about the sacred union of the marriage, how it must remain for procreation, how it must remain man and woman. Kim Kardashian got married. Michael Jackson got married. There are reality TV shows on every channel about meeting a stranger and fake-marrying him or her for fame.

While CNN and FOX News are worried about this same-sex nonsense, Obama is legalizing a food and drug act that could potentially (albeit slowly if at all) be killing Americans. It’s a six-month bill but I didn’t even know it was in motion. This is what I want to know about. The food that enters my body on a daily basis is my foremost issue. Too bad talk of this act can only be found in the dusty catacombs of the Internet. I don’t know if what Obama did is dangerous or not but we’ve all heard the horror stories of chickens being pumped full of hormones and genetic enhancers to fatten them up before they fall over and die in tiny cages. I want Anderson Cooper and Rachael Maddow coming at this story from every angle.

Am I blaming Obama for signing an act that requires the USDA to approve the harvest and sale of crops from genetically-modified seed even if the court has ruled against the crop for being dangerous to public safety and/or the environment? I’m not. Barack Obama is the smartest person in the room on this issue and any other issue in modern America, so I don’t want to see these Facebookers saying “that’s what you get for voting Obama.” This isn’t a GOP vs. Democrat thing. Any Republican would’ve signed this bill in three seconds flat. I just want to know more about it. Don’t you? Let’s forget about equal marriage and get educated on our foods.

For years, the left-leaning Bill Mahar has said it’s the food that’s dooming Americans, not the cigarettes, or six packs, or street drugs, and maybe he’s right. I’m quick to say that anyone who would eat genetically-altered foods are probably the same people who think THIS IS 40 was hilarious. Then I stop and ask: Does anyone really know which foods are and aren’t? Who knows if all these organic and grain-fed wrappings are actually legit? The stores that "claim" they don’t sell genetically-enhanced foods are Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s, Marsh Supermarkets, and Aldi stores, just to name a few. Who knows?

All we can do is micromanage what we eat and stay educated. Quit beef cold turkey. Stick to fish, organic, all-natural. And who knows if that's doing more harm than good. My point is a simple one: If our media is torn between covering the issue of same-sex marriage or the danger levels of the foods we feed ourselves, I say let raccoons marry chipmunks and chickens marry meat cows, just make sure they’re not genetically altered before feeding them to me.

Read More: http://communities.washingtontimes.com/neighborhood/stress-and-health-dr-lind/2013/mar/28/gmos-and-obamas-loss-health-america/

Brian Huba
3.29.13

Little Billy

Why is the U Albany Men’s Basketball Team so smitten with itself after going to Philly and getting slapped by a pretty-forgettable Duke Blue Devils squad? I know the final score of 73-61 appears respectable, but let me tell you, it wasn’t that close. When Albany closed to single digits, Duke effortlessly retook control. Duke’s rotation worked the Great Danes. The outcome was never in doubt. But man oh man, our Albany boys act like they just went to triple overtime with Bill Walton’s Bruins. And that RUDY sentiment is supported by the coaches and the Capital Region Media. Read More:http://www.timesunion.com/local/article/Fans-hold-heads-high-in-defeat-of-UAlbany-4378239.php OR Read More:http://www.timesunion.com/sports/article/UAlbany-gives-Duke-a-run-before-falling-4376944.php

When does feeling good about just getting there end? Why shouldn’t U Albany make the Dance? All they had to do was win through the second-rate America East Conference. Every Great Dane player and coach with a microphone in his face after the loss talked about being proud of making it, holding their heads up, playing in a game they’ll never forget. What? Men, you earned the Philly trip on an automatic bid, got abused, then bussed it back to Albany. Now everyone involved will be able to tell their grandkids about the day they shared hardwood with the mighty Duke.

Here’s what I would’ve said after the game if I was a player or coach: First, I must congratulate the Duke Blue Devils for playing a complete game and earning a hard-fought victory. As for our team, we had one goal when coming here: Win the game. That goal was not achieved. There are no moral victories. This trip was an unsuccessful one because we lost. We must get better. Next season starts right now. That’s what I would’ve said. "But, Brian, these aren’t pro players, they’re kids, and kids have to constantly be told how great they are, because we don’t want anyone to feel sad, or bad, or mad about losing."

College basketball today is an apartment complex of talent. Anyone with a shred of game plays one year (maybe two) then jettisons to the NBA. Our Great Danes didn’t lock horns with Bobby Hurley or Grant Hill on Friday. I don’t know anyone on the current Duke squad. Do they have a single NBA player? Maybe. Duke isn’t gonna make the Final Four. No way. And why shouldn’t U Albany be able to play with this Duke team? U Albany has 20+ thousand enrolled students, top-drawer facilities, and a direct line to NYC and Boston talent. Plus, the academic requirements aren't exactly stringent. When does U Albany ever take the next step? I’m so tired of feeling good about making it to the tournament and getting TKO’d before the bus engine cools off. The school’s only qualified for the Dance three times in the Will Brown era, and are 0-3 in doing so. That would get a guy at Siena canned.

When the U Albany boys returned home from Philly, they were met with cheers for their “moral” victory, people telling them how good they should feel. I’m tired of this school that’s larger than many American cities willingly playing the part of David in every athletic venture. We’re as big as Florida State, and Auburn, and Michigan, right? I’m not saying U Albany was expected to win against Duke or should’ve won. What I’m saying is stop talking about how content you are with losing. I don’t remember Michael Spinks self-praising after going 90 seconds with Iron Mike.

To me this issue is bigger than 20 year olds drowning themselves in champagne for surviving the six-hour bus trip to Philly; it’s a societal thing. When did telling Little Billy he can’t kick a ball or shoot a jumper become so taboo? Then Little Billy enters the real world and is woefully unprepared to compete in a global market. The real world doesn’t care about Little Billy’s shaky self-confidence. If I stink at something, just say, “Brian, you need to get better or go elsewhere.” I’ll lick my wounds, come back stronger, and better, and tougher. That’s life. Who wants to live any other way? The only way to get better is to surround yourself with better people.

Am I being too harsh? Expecting too much? Why can't U Albany ever be a Cinderella? When I was in high school, Gonzaga was always the Bracket-Busting team, the dangerous 15 seed, every year. This year they were a #1 Seed. It can happen. You can move up in the world of NCAA Hoops. U Albany's been Division I for a while now. Let's go! Let's win something! Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe we should just celebrate 64th place.

Brian Huba: U Albany Class of 2003
3.24.13

March On

There was a time when I loved the St. Pat’s Parade in Albany. We’d go to McGeary’s and chase girls all night long. But I haven’t been to a Parade Day in many years, and today looking at the pics of green-clad parade goers, I don’t miss it in the least. For me March, St. Pat’s Day especially, has become a sad thing, a depressing gateway to spring. As fate would have it, I married a woman who also hates March and would prefer to see St. Pat’s expelled entirely from the calendar. So this year we went to JC Penney’s then Longfellow’s for dinner. No chance of rubbing elbows with the Blarney-loving bunch.

My March story starts in 2000 when my uncle Dave was dying of lymphoma. He was diagnosed in November of ’99, quickly got worse through the winter, then March hit and he went to the hospital, never came out again. His mantra was a simple one: Make it to spring. He died on March 21, 2000, the first day of spring. He was 33 years old. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through, and I went through it front row at 20. While my friends were away at college, I was learning about death way too soon. That was Black March, and the brightest light of hope this family had ever known was extinguished in a gut-wrenching swipe. Every March I retrace the steps of that time thirteen years ago. But no matter how many times I replay Black March in my mind, it always ends on the 21st with that call from my father. “I’m sorry, son . . .” No amount of green beer and goofy hats can rewrite March for me. March is Dave at Albany Med. March is that crowded wake room at McVeigh’s.

There’s a legend that says my family--on my mother’s side--is cursed. The curse supposedly comes from the German branch (I’m German?) and says that a male ancestor had married a woman in America then left her alone, went back to Germany, where he resumed his life with his first wife. From that a curse was put on the family that promised no descended woman would ever be happy. I don’t know about curses, but every woman in my mother’s generation was widowed by 50, and my mother’s one female cousin died of a heart attack in bed at 51, about five years after being widowed. My grandmother died the most horrific death you could imagine, as did her sister, who before dying dealt with a husband who cursed her seven ways from Sunday for five years from a stroke and dementia. My great-aunt’s son then died at 50, horribly, and her grandson dropped dead of a heart attack at 32, a week before his wedding. There is evidence to suggest the women in my family are slated to suffer.

But I return to March 2000, always March 2000, where the ultimate sadness in this family’s history waits. Dave was married into this family, and he was immediately the star of our funky bunch. He instantly made everyone’s life better. From giving my father a free truck, to giving me my first real job, to setting my aunt and her daughter up for life, to just being there and making us all better. Dave was the blessing this family had prayed for. He was the light. He would break the curse. Then it instantly and stunningly went the other way, and POW, he was dead and gone. And all the good he brought this family, all the light he shined on us, was instantly reversed. The curse had claimed another.

All these years later, I wish I never met Dave or knew him. It sounds bad but it’s true. As much as his brief time with us was a blessing, his horrific death was a shotgun blast to my psyche. With him I was the happy protégé. Then . . . In so many ways, his downfall ruined my life. It completely recalibrated the way I looked at the world, and gave birth to an unshakable depression and a certain feeling that doom awaits me, always awaits. I don’t feel blessed to have known him or any of that Hallmark-card crap. His life was a tragic one. This story is a brutal one. Dave’s death showed me that bright lights could burn out, the bad guy did win. The Fairy Tale ended when he ended.

Today I have officially outlived Dave, but my path to 33 and six months was a hard one, riddled with nightmares, and fear, and self-destruction. But I managed to survive. How? I'm no fool. I know the secret to my survival. Only one good thing has ever happened to me, and it is my wife, and now I’m here with her, and every success I have ever had has been with her. She is the second thing I have ever loved in this lifetime (the third counting Head Coach Tom Coughlin, of course), and as long as she’s with me, the doom will stay away, replaced by hope, laughter, life. I like to think she was sent to finish the job Dave started in ’90. I like to think that she can end any curse that could exist. Of course she would say that's not the ONLY reason she lives--to save me from some curse--and I'm selfish for suggesting that. And I am selfish, she's right. And she is the shining light of this family. Everyone is better with her here. And when St. Pat’s rolls around, you won’t find us anywhere near North Pearl Street. But wherever we are, we'll be there together. I'm happy and ready to March on.

See Pics: http://www.timesunion.com/seen-events/slideshow/SEEN-2013-Albany-St-Patrick-s-Day-Parade-58574.php

Brian Huba
3.17.13