Nothing But Iron: Minus Six Degrees of Refrigeration
February 4, 2007
by Steven R. Lagman, M.D., C.A.S.W.
The day was not sultry. It was not humid. It was not tepid or lukewarm or even chilly. It was cold, but cold is an understatement embraceable only by connoisseurs of absurdity. No, it was expletively cold that could only be described by words that do not exist on the civil side of the boundary between profanity and acceptable language.
It was sunny, but this day’s sun, whose heat had been filtered from its light somewhere in the stratosphere, served only to illuminate the frigid conditions to which we were subjected on our way to the Kohl Center, where Northwestern would play its rematch against the recently-beaten Wisconsin Badgers. Ironically, northwestern also described the stinging wind, which threatened to solidify our souls. It made us cringe at first, but soon proved a blessing by hastening the rate at which the arctic air anesthetized the nerve endings in our skin, thereby sparing us further pain.
Safely through two sets of doors, thirty feet inside the Kohl Center, we could still see our breath. O.K., I gotta stop now. Yup, I’m dismounting from the drama horse. It is cold, but I go overboard about it only for purposes of my own entertainment, and to strike the fear of ice sickles in my Arizona dwelling relatives who get cold whenever they stand directly under their ceiling fans.
The truth is, our cold exposure is pretty minimal, because most of us, teenagers excepted, are smart enough to dress in bulky hooded coats and insulated gloves and to keep the gas tank plenty full. We have fireplaces and furnaces and car heaters and comfortable basketball arenas, so we don’t really have it so bad. Fun to write about it though.
Today’s high temperature will be minus 5. Tomorrow it will warm to zero. No doubt it is the beginning of a trend that will, in eight weeks time, mark the start of gardening season. In a way I am glad to see expletive coldness for a change. We were getting a little soft with our 40-degree days in December. Cold toughens us up a bit, and for sure it will give us a long lasting appreciation for sweltering (yes, sultry) summer days to come.
The low temperatures had an unexpected academic benefit as well. I was able demonstrate the relationship between pressure, volume and temperature (Combined Gas Law) to three tolerant, if not fascinated teenagers who shared our tickets. On the way back to the car I was carrying a capped empty water bottle that I had finished during the game. Within minutes the bottle at begun to collapse inward. I asked the boys what had happened and why? With prompting, they more-or-less figured out that the pressure inside the bottle had decreased as the warm air inside rapidly cooled. Hey, it’s my sports column. I can write about stuff I think is interesting, whether it is or not.
The lessons learned inside the Kohl Center were: 1) Cold weather does not necessarily mean cold shooting. 2) Alando continues to be Alando. I didn’t realize this until Kelly pointed it out, but Tucker’s really only about 6-4, not 6-6 as listed. Plays big for 6-4, doesn’t he. 3) NW’s Kevin Coble is good. Most of his 24 points were well contested. It’s a modern marvel the NW can recruit players this good. The Cats may never win a conference championship, but because of guys like Coble, they will frequently be dangerous. 4) Wisconsin used its size to great advantage. 5) From the perspective of a youth basketball coach, the Princeton Offense fascinates me, although the Badgers defended it quite well the second time around. Very few easy baskets were given up, which is attributable to hard work on the part of the Badgers. 6) I don’t know if it is part of the offense, UW’s size, or a commitment to squelching any UW fast breaks, but it was rare for the Wildcats to even try to secure an offensive rebound.
My tennis friend, Tim Maxon, disagreed with my brief commentary about the IU loss. I always appreciate contrary views, even if they are wrong. It would be boring if everyone agreed with me. My assessment that the better team had won was simply a matter of how I define the phrase. The better team, by my definition, is always the team that won. If you have a more credible way to make that determination, let me know, and I will slam it in my next column. The Badgers would likely be the better team in the Kohl center, and may be the better team on a neutral court and may be the better team on a different night on that court, but I thought, on that night that IU was better. Nothing wrong with that, and I wouldn't trade my Badgers for a thousand Hoosiers, but that's my rationale for admitting the obvious.
Special thanks to the Hawkeyes for bursting the Hoosier bubble. My friend Amr said he would encourage his team to do so. Thanks, Amr. As usual, Michigan State did us no favors in losing at home to OSU. That means OSU, a once-young team that is growing up much too fast for my comfort, has the easiest road to the Big Ten title. UW must win out to get the trophy outright or beat OSU in Columbus and drop a game somewhere else to tie, but neither route will be easy. Oh, yeah, I just remembered: It’s not supposed to be easy. Here’s to the prospect of difficult accomplishments.
I can live with 22-2, 8-1, and I can live with whatever follows. It was hard to watch the Hoosiers fans rush the court on Wednesday, but then I thought back to the time when nobody would think to rush the court for having beaten Wisconsin. I smiled.
Today is the Super Bowl, where two football teams that have earned the chance to be there will play each other for rings, lustrous hardware and lots of money. As of last night I was planning to attend a Super Bowl party as a neutral party, fully prepared to apply the full range of my apathy: I just wanted it to be a good game.
As of this morning I am cheering–yes, I may actually cheer–for the Bears. I had a change of heart because our friend Mary Jo, an exiled Chicagoan living in Madison, was having a hard time enjoying her team’s fantastic season because so many of the locals have pledged temporary allegiance to Indianapolis. It doesn’t take a sports psychologist to translate that support into anti-Bears sentiment. I tried to explain that it was not different when the Packers played for the championship 1996 and 1997. Surely throngs of Bears fans cheered against us, many probably didn’t care and a few, in a minority showing of NFC Central solidarity, actually cheered us on. Mary Jo pondered watching the game in seclusion, so she could cheer liberally and be shielded from ridicule if the day turns disastrous. That’s wrong. The Super Bowl should be shared with friends, and this one is cheering for his friend’s team. I’ll have plenty of Chicago-directed animosity next season when the other half of the Bears-Packers rivalry is again eligible to play. As an added bonus, if the Bears win, my step-dad, Kenny, will be happy. To see him happy will make my mom happy. What kind of son would not want to see his mom happy? Anybody know the words to Bear Down, Chicago Bears?
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Nothing But Iron is an amateur sports column. Combined Gas Law™ is a registered trademark of Sound Design, Inc., maker of the Fart Machine. The author apologizes for cheering for the Bears, but, just this once, it’s the right thing to do. ©2007 DrTM Enterprises.
