Manchester United v. Lionel Messi

My daughter and I are settling in to watch the Champions League Final pitting Manchester United and FC Barcelona. It's a match that has divided my household as Lionel Messi, Barcelona's star striker, is my daughter's favourite player (since he and she are both quite small). While Manchester United is not my favourite team per se, their two Champions League victories are among my two favourite soccer memories. The Final in Moscow affected me so strongly that I wrote it into Games of Chance.

More importantly though, today's game is a warm-up to our watching the Women's World Cup of Soccer this summer, an important milestone in helping share my love of soccer with my daughter.

Gil Scott-Heron, RIP

The internet is abuzz with the passing of legendary poet Gil Scott-Heron, one of my favourite poets and musician. In no particular order, here are my top five GSH songs:

Jose Campos Torres (From the Mind of Gil Scott-Heron): it's the way he utters "the dogs are in the street" that grips me still.

Running (from We're New Here, also from I'm New Here [one of my favourite albums last year]):

H2Ogate Blues (from Winter in America):

Whitey's On The Moon (Mixing pop and politics, he asks me what the use is, I offer him embarassment and the usual excuses)

and yes, first and always

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised (from Small Talk at 125th and Lexington)

Primrods, Live at the Legion

Down with dreams!

The Primrods, One Night Only

Yes! The Primrods! Legends! One night only! At the Legion. Secret show. I should be there. I want to be there. Check me in five minutes and I'll be there. Half of my radio friends are already there! It'll be like old times. Lemme just bust out this old Chixdiggit shirt.

I'm not going.

I want to be there. I even knew about the show a week or so ago, but I'm at home auditioning for the role of Father of the Year. Tomorrow is my daughter's First Communion and something like sixty members of my family are coming over to celebrate. It's an early morning affair, sure to bring with it lots of photographs, aunts, cousins, nieces, nephews, the whole army of Italian relatives. Once upon a time I might have been a scenester and sometimes I still get to pretend I'm a music journalist, but tomorrow I need to be an Italian-Canadian dad and I want that more.

So, instead of heading out to rock n' roll into the wee hours, I'm at home, writing - which is kinda fitting, since that's really how it mostly happened all those years ago anyways.

Away we go?

Gearing for a family wedding this weekend. Shenanigans sure to follow. Bachelor party already in progress - will I arrive to hear tales to rival these?