Your Life Is Closer To Over: The Week That Was by Brian Phillips

In case you missed the first in our series last week, this is essentially a digest of various things I found interesting enough to pollute my Facebook feed with last week. Don't worry though, no Farm House game invites or whatever the hell that is. Farm House isn't correct. That was an ag major frat at Washington State. The only thing I can recall about Farm House was the Farm House Rodeo. I heard they put hay bales in the front yard and members would sit on the them and drink until they fell over. Last man on his bale won the rodeo. Sounds about right.​

News

​Speaking of bales.... The President Of The Graveyard of Empires says "hey America, thanks for the bales of cash!" In fairness Afghan President Karzai called the payments a "small amount," which is probably horseshit. What do we get for our C.I.A. funneled cash payments? I'm sure some of the money ended up with people who used the funds to kill American soldiers. And I can't imagine all that dough sloshing around Godforesaken Afghanistan without some of it washing up against the heroin trade, but I'm just spitballin' here.  

I found this backgrounder on the Boston Bomber's family interesting. ​Meanwhile The Daily Mail reports the Saudis warned the U.S. about the elder brother after they refused him entrance for a pilgrimage to Mecca. As we learned with 9-11 the Saudis like Jihadis best when their someone else's problem. We'll see if we ever get any satisfactory answers as to why this clown wasn't kicked out of the country. Also, what friends young brother had!

Want to read a really scary article about fracking? Read it anyway. ​

Rolling Stone's Matt Taibbi had yet another dispatch this week. This one is just as depressing as the others. The cleaning up of mortgage malpractice never really happened.

Did you read about this survey? An alarming number of Americans believe we may need an armed revolution soon. There are two problems with this. 1. At some point having a revolution involves effort. 2. What do you think is going to happen when you start said revolution? I know we can become frustrated when things don't seem to be right, but seriously calm the fuck down. Also of note a large minority of those surveyed believe they're being lied to on Sandy Hook. Again, seriously... calm the fuck down.

Sports

​Deadspin has it about right. The NBA is using Seattle just like the NFL uses L.A. Seattle is the league's arena boogeyman! "Build us a new joint or we're going to Seattle!" The Sacramento Kings will likely not be headed north after the NBA's relocation committee voted against recommending a Seattle ownership group. Here's the fun part! The chair of said committee is Oklahoma City Thunder owner and all around creep Clay Bennett. Watch this movie, it's pretty good.

Not to be outdone the owner of the Cubs has threatened to move his shitty team out of Wrigley if he doesn't get a new scoreboard. That's laughable on it's face. What this is really about is the 17% revenue share the Cubs cut with building owners across the street. The proposed scoreboard would kill their business. The Cubbies kind of painted themselves into a corner with this one. ​I smell Oklahoma City Cubs!

Even with Jason Collins dominating the news, perhaps you didn't take the time to read his self-penned Sport Illustrated cover story. Don't miss it. ​Years ago former major league journeyman Billy Bean (not the A's GM) wrote a great book about his life as a closeted athlete. 

Great piece in USA Today last week on the Braves' Evan Gattis. What a road for this 25 year old rookie. Clinically depressed, wandering America working a series a dead end jobs only to make the Braves out of spring training and rake. ​

​I'll be writing more soon on baseball and specifically the weird first month and change of the season. If you're wondering as I am about the collapse of Josh Hamilton read this. Yes it's filled with mind numbing sabermetrics, but the conclusion is unmistakable. Hamilton is swinging his bat like a lab rat pushing the cheese lever. 

Jet fan! Feeling great about Geno Smith? Everything about this kid is screaming head case. Perfect for Rex Ryan's "confused quarterback-centric" offense. ​Tim Tebow got the gas pipe of course and it didn't take the wise acres long to have their fun. 

And lastly in sports why was this kid wandering across an NBA court with his pants down? ​

And Finally Tonight

​A 14 year old Chicago teen learned a valuable life lesson when the prostitute he hired online stole his Ipad and Piggy Bank. She's been arrested. Yes I choose to believe he was going to pay her by cracking open his piggy bank.

Tom and Randy, Pool Detectives

We really were like a couple of mismatched detectives. Randy, a tall, athletic, light-skinned African American dude from Findlay, and me, a pale, scrawny, long-haired kid from Powell. Randy looked most of the time like he was coming from a basketball game but had had time to shower, and I, most of the time, looked like a Third World freedom fighter who had been sniffing glue and needed sleep and was wearing more clothing than the weather called for.

Randy was well-spoken, and I was a bit of a mumbler who didn’t like to look you in the eye. If we were on the trail of the same killer, like most mismatched detectives, I would not have survived the scene where we get into a brawl. But we weren’t on the trail of the same killer – it was just that we met in college, and had found that we had a lot more in common than you’d think. Mostly, what we had in common was icy cold beers, poker, and pool.

See, the way it worked back then was, we didn’t have telephones in our pockets. We had them in our apartments, and there were little boxes attached to the phones which recorded messages on cassette tapes. Right about then, they were coming out with these “answering machines” which did not use tapes, but instead made digital recordings. That was the kind of thing that could flat blow my mind.

So what we’d do was, while we were throwing cards around on a picnic table the night before, we’d compare notes about class schedules, work schedules, and papers due, and we’d determine when we could both stop doing productive things, and we’d say, okay so that’s when we’ll meet at the Drake Union, where they had cheap pool tables, and draft beer for a buck and a quarter.

That particular day, the time we figured we could stop being productive was three o’clock. Yes, it was a Monday – so what?

We’d simply get a table and then play game after game of eight ball, usually balancing out pretty evenly, sometimes slanting over toward an embarrassingly one-sided ass kicking, and then slanting back. We’d play for beers so, that mattered.

Frequently, the money would then slide back over the card table later that night, finding its way home. It was a lot like we drank the same twenty bucks for several years, just rolling back and forth between us.

Ostensibly, the reason the Drake Union on the OSU campus had a pool hall was that you could take billiards classes. There were a few bowling lanes, too, if you were into that sort of thing – which we weren’t. Now, why was there also beer for sale in the OSU building? I have no idea.

I’m not sure, but my guess would be, they probably cut that out by now.

The Drake Union was on the north side of campus, not too far from the Horseshoe. It was a fairly complicated building, and you had to know your way around to find the basement pool hall, cutting through several study rooms – bristling with students who were not there to drink beer in the middle of the afternoon - and then down a quiet, tiled hallway with a couple of bathrooms to one side, and then you’d open a door. There was barely even a sign.

Inside, it was so relaxing that it made us suspicious the first time we found it. A dozen or so decent tables, a sound system that was perfectly adequate but easy to talk over, and a little bar with a bored guy behind it, who only sold draft beer. Was this some kind of trap?

Nope, not a trap. Just tip that bartender a few bucks right off the bat, and buddy, you owned the place.

That afternoon bled into the early evening pretty smoothly, and resulted in a half dozen trips to the bathroom. Both Randy and I clearly noticed each time we went in that there was somebody sitting in one of the stalls, on the toilet. You might think that after six times or so, we’d say, man, there’s always somebody in that same stall, or maybe, gee, I wonder if that’s the same guy sitting in that stall all this time?

Since I can’t smell, I couldn’t tell you if there was an odor, but if there was, Randy didn’t pick it up, or he thought to himself, unpleasant smell in the Men’s Room, not exactly a big news story.

So we rocked in and out of there for several hours, taking leaks, washing hands, and despite our heightened Pool Detective skills – you see things, we observe them – it did not occur to us for a second that there was a dead guy in there, until the cops showed up.

Apparently there an elderly man who had been an usher at every home OSU game for thirty or forty years, who followed the same routine every game. He’d go to the campus McDonald’s, get a breakfast sandwich and coffee, and then he’d walk across campus to the game. He was a remarkable figure, apparently, to the general Horseshoe community; they recognized him and thought of him like a minor folk hero. A true Buckeye, they’d say.

So when he didn’t show up that day, it made the news. The guy had been in the news before, in a little human interest piece – he’d been an usher a really long time and looked like he was going to do it until the day he died, the piece said. A little column, I think, in the Dispatch.

And it was right. Two days before Randy and I cracked the case – well, practically cracked it. I mean, we were there, when it was cracked, and we’d been in the room with the dead body quite a few times, taking a leak, thinking, man, I love playing pool and drinking a few icy cold beers.

So anyway, two days before Randy and I practically cracked the case, the usher came into the Drake Union to use the bathroom, and he died in a stall, and he sat there for two days.

Our investigation later revealed that the cleaning guy had encountered him Saturday night. He’d been wearing a Walkman – which was an iPod the size of a brick that used cassette tapes like the answering machines did – and so when he opened the door, it hit someone’s knee and he just said, “Oh, my bad, sorry dude.”

And since he was wearing his Walkman, he didn’t register that the guy didn’t answer. He certainly didn’t think to himself, better check and see if that guy’s dead.

Eventually, the bartender found him. You probably think that means the bartender cracked the case, but don’t be ridiculous. Bartenders pour beers, they don’t crack cases. To crack a case, you have to be a pool detective. That’s where me and Randy came in.

Sure, our investigation began after the cops arrived, and sure, they hogged the collar. They were all like, we’re cops and you guys are half in the bag and you didn’t even notice he was in here and one of you isn’t even twenty-one.

We were used to it. We knew that cops and pool detectives should be on the same side, but there was always infighting. Posturing. Look at me, I’m an actual law enforcement officer, and you’re a not-very-serious-or-observant college student.

Sometimes you hit the mean streets, we’d found, and sometimes the mean streets hit you back.

But that’s how it is, the life of a couple of pool detectives. No one thanks you, everyone’s out for themselves, everyone’s focused on who actually detected stuff. I mean, sure, our methods were unorthodox. Damn straight, we ruffled some feathers, broke a few rules. Stepped on a few toes, you know what I’m saying?

But we got RESULTS. Or at least, we were frequently hanging around with beers in our hands, when the results showed up.

One time a guy stole Randy’s ID, and then four months later the guy came into the bar I worked in, recognized me, and said, “Hey man, I stole your pal’s ID. Here it is.” Then me and Randy and him sat down and had a few beers and a couple of laughs about it.

That’s kind of like cracking a case, although again, the case did just sort of crack right in front of me, while I was thinking about something else.

You know what, I’m tired of talking about this. We were super duper pool detectives, I’m telling you.

Jeez.

Your Life Is Closer To Over: The Week That Was. by Brian Phillips

Our editor Colin Gawel has been on me, and with good reason. I haven't written a damned thing in weeks. We've given up on my finishing the baseball preview. I got through the American League in March, and started the NL. Now we're a month into the season, and it seems pointless now. To get on the record regarding the senior circuit I'll go with Atlanta, Cincinnati, and San Francisco with the Nationals and Cardinals nabbing the wild cards. Atlanta and Detroit in the series. Detroit wins it all. The Marlins will lose 115 games. 

Anyway the idea Colin had over the weekend was for me to draw from my Facebook feed and come up with a digest of the week that was. And why not, though I should warn you that we'll cover everything from interest rate swap rigging to a Wal Mart employee turning tricks in the can during work hours. I'll leave it to you to decide which is worse, though your answer no doubt tells us a lot about you.​

​Sports

​What a run by the Columbus Blue Jackets! The CBJ came up a tie-breaker shy of qualifying for the playoffs for only the second time in franchise history Saturday. The CBJ completed a furious 8-2 finish with Saturday's 3-1 win over Nashville at Nationwide Arena. I was there. The atmosphere was electric. Now the Jackets move to the Eastern Conference with it's somewhat softer competition, and many fewer trips out of the Eastern time zone. Behind goaltender Sergei Bobrovsky the Jackets will make some racket next season. Just to cause trouble check this out. Were the Jackets robbed? Most likely. 

Meanwhile up I-71 The Columbus Crew shook off a disappointing performance in Chicago to rip DC United 3-0. I think we'll see a lot more of Jairo Arrieta and newcomer Dominic Orduro running up top together. Unfortunately you'll see none of their fine work on Sport Center. You will however see the Crew Stadium scoreboard on fire. ​

​It appears the blaze started in the scoreboard's speaker system and should be a pretty easy fix. 

The NFL Draft concluded Saturday. My criticisms of Seattle's picks last year only proved my ignorance. I'll leave the punditry to the McShay's and Kuiper's of the world. I will only say that the Bills probably got a steal in undrafted wide receiver Da'Rick Rogers out of Tennessee Tech. Rogers was on his way to a stellar career at Tennessee when he got himself into a bit of drug trouble. For more on the value of so called "weed guy" players see Rolling Stone's Matt Taibbi's hilarious third annual "The NFL Draft Decoded." 

News

​George Jones died at the age of 81 Friday. "No Show Jones" lived a hard life, and yet made it to 81 and toured almost to the end, proving once more that booze, cocaine, pills, a fully fueled riding lawnmower, and access to firearms are the key to a long life. For a jaw dropping read, seek out Jones' 1997 autobiography "I Lived To Tell It All." I cannot do it justice here. (Yes, they duct taped him to a mic stand once so he could stand up and perform. Yes, he did leave his Cadillac running, doors open, on the sidewalk in front of the Nashville airport.)

Prediction: The Boston Bombings are about to become an embarrassment for our Homeland Security establishment. ​This idea that older brother had aroused attention up to two years ago raises many questions. Most of those questions will be answered no doubt by subjecting you and I to more cavity searches and x-rays. Yay! 

On a side note, I read that the older brother was influenced by Alex Jones and his Infowars site. Jones took 3.9 seconds after the bombings to Tweet that they were an inside job. To help focus your thinking on the more fringe aspects of the story, I present this helpful chart. 

This may have slipped by you with everything else going on last week. The Steubenville School Board extended a giant middle finger to the rest of America by quietly renewing the contract of head football coach Reno Saccoccia for another two years for something called "Director Of Administrative Services." This gig has nothing to do with his head coaching job and probably doesn't have much to do with anything at else either. Take heart though, by the end of last week the Attorney General's office was executing search warrants at ol Steubenville High. Coach Reno will have to answer for what he did and didn't do yet. 

Late last week Matt Taibbi (yes the same guy who wrote the NFL piece above) published on Rolling Stone.com his latest on more unimaginable corruption, this time the investigation into the manipulation of interest rate swaps. As arcane as this material can be, Taibbi has a real gift for making it understandable. Read it as I do; with the knowledge that nothing will be done. Our economy and government has been captured by what is essentially organized crime, and it costs everyone more so these few can take a healthy skim from everything. 

Remember the Mississippi Elvis Impersonator arrested on suspicion of sending ricin tainted letters to the White House and Senate? Well you know what the King said about Suspicious Minds. Just today another man, who had perhaps had some sort of feud with the fake Elvis, has been arrested. ​In 2007 James Everett Dutschke lost a Mississippi State Senate election. One of the folks who received one of his ricin direct mail pieces was allegedly the mother of the man who beat him. I'll be following this one because I love weird shit.

I almost hesitate to post this as we've had so many false leads in this story over the decades. Authorities are investigating whether remains found in the wall of a Cleveland bar may be those of long missing Teamster head Jimmy Hoffa. The previous owner found some years ago, and police curiously told him to throw them out. Hey that was the 70's and if you remember that decade people were throwing out body parts all the time. ​

And Finally Tonight

​You won't find this offer in your Sunday circular. An upstate New York Wal Mart associate has been charged with prostitution. Police say the 22 year old was turning tricks in the mens room during work hours. Foster Bills advertised his services on Craigslist. 

George Jones = Rock. Motley Crue = Pussies.

George Jones finally passed away this week. I became familiar with George after picking up a copy of his auto-biography I Lived to Tell It All some 20 years back. ​I distinctly remember reading a rave review of the book by Columbus firebrand Jon Petric and picking up a paperback copy before driving from Ohio to Rhode Island with my then girlfriend. 

Damn, George could party. At least 30 times during the drive I would yelp, "I cannot believe he is alive!" ​and continue turning pages. George was guzzling a bottle of whiskey for breakfast, blasting shotguns through the roof of his bus and riding lawnmowers down the highway to buy booze. And then he discovered cocaine. 

Remember Nikki Sixx's mostly bullshit ​autobio The Dirt ? Even that fake shit was half what the old Possum was up to on a daily basis. "Oh, you snorted ants by the pool and Ozzy was impressed?" George did so much blow and booze that he thought he was a duck and disappeared into the woods for months and would only talk in "quacks" when spoken to. 

When you get so high you think you are a duck, not just for a night, but for weeks, that is some serious party.​ QUACK!!!

The book was published when Jones was supposedly sober and turning over a new leaf. About six months after its release, George crashed his Oldsmobile into a bridge support at 90 miles an hour with an empty bottle of whiskey clanging around the wreckage. The accident tore his liver in two pieces and he was not expected to survive.​

Shit, man, it's gonna take more that that to stop George Jones' liver. Not only did he survive, he came back and toured the next 25 years. ​His voice never suffered and he sure sang a bunch of great songs. I've always been partial to "Why Baby Why" because the League Bowlers used to cover it at Joe Oesteich's insistence. Let's get you some George. Read the book and appreciate his gift. 

​And a nod to the great Dash Rip Rock for teaching us Yanks "White Lightning" was 20 times heavier/better than anything Vince Neil would ever sing. And George always looked better than Vince. In fact, I bet George looks better today resting in a casket than Vince looks taking the stage tonight at the Oshkosh County Cheese Festival or where ever he is playing. R.I.P. ya old crazy possum. 

colingawel.com

George (Glenn) Jones performs "White Lightning" *Recommend "high quality" mode. The video is much clearer that way. Click option above view count to switch modes, or go here http://www.youtube.com/video_quality_settings to save your preference for all videos you watch on YouTube.

The View From the Side of the Stage - Ricki C. on the Why Isn't Cheap Trick in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame? experience

I’ve seen a fuckload of Colin Gawel shows.  (“Fuckload” is a unit of measure invented by my brother in the rock & roll and former employer – Hamell On Trial – meaning “a great many” or “a lot.”  It was originally coined by Hamell to describe the wealth of musical knowledge possessed by my friend Kyle Garabadian; i.e. “That Kyle knows a fuckload of shit about rock & roll.”)  

Since 1990, when I first witnessed the nascent Watershed when they were still called The Wire opening for Willie Phoenix, through last week when Why Isn’t Cheap Trick In the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame? made their debut I must have seen more than 150 Colin shows.  (I suspect the only people who have seen Colin more are Michael “Biggie” McDermott, road manager extraordinaire & possibly the real heart & soul of Watershed and Rob Braithwaite, whose place I took in the road crew in 2005 when Rob went off the road.)  From The Wire to Watershed to several incarnations of The League Bowlers to The Lonely Bones to solo acoustic Colin shows, I’ve seen ‘em all, and I find myself forced to make the following statement: The Friday night Kobo edition of Why Isn’t Cheap Trick In the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame? might have been one of the Top Twenty Colin shows of all time.

Colin didn’t pull that off alone, of course.  While he was the brainchild of this tributory rock & roll exercise, without The Lonely Bones – Rick Kinsinger on guitar & vocals, Dan Cochran on bass & vocals and especially original Watershed drummer Herb Schupp (who absolutely kicked ass, maimed, took names & DESTROYED on drums, mightily invoking the Spirit of Bun E. Carlos) – these Cheaps just wouldn’t have gotten Tricked.  The band was on fire both nights, but especially Friday at Kobo, given that rock & roll is a participatory sport rather than a spectator one and the Cleveland audience chose to largely remain spectators.  The Kobo crowd, however, just came to rock away the happy hour show with an energy & abandon of which I think Rick Nielsen and Robin Zander would wholly have approved. 

And if you think those Cheap Trick tunes are easy to play, you better  think again, Jack.  They sound deceptively simple (as many good power-pop songs do) but there’s all kinda twists & turns thrown into the melodies & arrangements that make them into GREAT rock tunes; the weird tempo changes in “Southern Girls,” the bass runs that come swooping in from left field ALL THE TIME, the key change in the last verse to “Surrender,” I could go on all night.  Plus Colin did a killer job on the vocals, which are mostly COMPLETELY up out of his range, easily more suited to his Watershed co-lead singer Joe Oestreich than to Colin’s lower-register Springsteen and Paul Westerberg stylings.

Okay, okay, I could go on & on but that’s 500 words and you 21st century kids have the attention span of a Ritalin-dosed 10 year old, so I’m just gonna close with the fact that I’m proud to have had some small part in this show and that I hope we never have to do it again because Cheap Trick will be inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame next year.  (But I'm not holding my breath.)

Ricki C. is the road manager of The Lonely Bones and a guitar-tech & merch guy for Watershed  and  would like to know why that talentless fuckhead David Crosby has been inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame THREE SEPARATE TIMES (as a member of The Byrds, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young and as a solo artist) while Cheap Trick, Mott The Hoople and The MC5 HAVE NEVER EVEN BEEN ON THE BALLOT.  He has his own blog – Growing Old With Rock & Roll – if you’d like to read more of his cranky rantings.  

'Your Shirt Sucks': A Why Isn't Cheap Trick in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? Recap

Editor's note: If you aren't sure what this is all about, please click here to read the original Why Isn't Cheap Trick in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? post. It should answer most your questions about the cause and who the hell this Colin Gawel (Watershed) fellow is anyway.  Also: A limited number of "Why Isn't Cheap Trick in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ? " T-shirts are still available. Better move quick though. click here for the link and info

"Your shirt sucks."

"Excuse me. Come again?"

"Your shirt. It sucks." 

He was pointing to the shirt I was wearing which read, "Why Isn't Cheap Trick in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?" 

"How's that? " I asked. 

"Alice Cooper should be in the hall before Cheap Trick" 

"I think Alice Cooper is in the Rock Hall, aren't they?"  **

"Nope. And that's why your shirt sucks, and the Rock Hall sucks" 

I countered: "But the reason for a hall of fame in the first place, be it baseball, football or rock and roll, is to spur conversation among fans about who should be in. Rock and roll is going extinct like the dinosaurs, yet here we are—two strangers having a conversation about Alice Cooper and Cheap Trick in the checkout line at the grocery store. I think that's what makes the Rock Hall pretty cool."

"Whatever. Alice Cooper should be in before Cheap Trick" 

This conversation really happened and I think sums up the whole point of Why Isn't Cheap Trick in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? To get people talking and damn if we didn't. The original story crushed all previous Pencilstorm records with over 2,500 hits. Facebook blew up with all sorts of Cheap Trick and music sites jumping on board.  I knew we were cooking with gas when metal nerd guru Eddie Trunk himself tweeted about the gig.  Rumor has it that even Rick Nielsen himself was e-mailing people asking what this was all about. At least that is what Cheap Trick expert and legendary DJ/ renaissance man of all things rock Lou Brutus had heard. There were also numerous articles written about the shows but I think this one by Andy Gray from the Youngstown Tribune was the best. Read it here.

Other press: Columbus Alive, Cleveland Scene, Cool Cleveland, The Examiner 

Both shows were well attended but the Columbus show was damn-near a madhouse/sellout  thanks to Brian Phillips from CD102.5 and Dan Orr WLVQ for plugging the gig on the FM dial.

Oh, almost forgot, below is a clip of Rick and Robin holding up a "Why Isn't Cheap Trick in the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame?" T-Shirt on stage in front of 5,000 people before playing "Surrender" - look for it 35 seconds in. 

And for those of you asking about the set... 

Stop This Game/ Hello There / Come on Come on / On Top of the World / These Days / Speak Now / Baby Loves to Rock / Downed / I Can't Take It / It's Only Love / Southern Girls / I Know What I Want / Voices / Tonight It's You / Oh Clare / Surrender. Encore: Daytripper / Way of the World / He's a Whore / Auf Wiedersehn 

Given our limited time/resources/talent, I thought we did a pretty damn fine job not embarrassing ourselves. Click here for a taste.   

Anyway, thanks to all who helped Why Isn't Cheap Trick in the Rock and Roll Hall Fame? For everybody's sake let's hope this is our first/last show and Cheap Trick gets the induction NEXT YEAR. If not, we will be back again trying to find an answer to a simple question: Why Isn't Cheap Trick in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? 

** Alice Cooper is already in the Rock Hall. I fucking knew it!

 Colin Gawel plays in the band Watershed and fronts his solo band The Lonely Bones. He started Pencilstorm during downtime at his coffee shop, the cleverly named Colin's Coffee. He really wants to know why Cheap Trick isn't in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  colingawel.com  watershedcentral.com 

Cheap Trick performing Surrender live at Lifestyle Communities Pavilion, Columbus, Ohio on Saturday, July 13, 2013 at the Q96 Wing Zing event.