December 21, 2024 – Manchester, New Hampshire
Southern New Hampshire vs D’Youville
Women’s Basketball
I went to this game with my dad.
Not my father. My dad. Two distinctly different people. My father provided a zygote in 1990, but Bob is my dad.
Bob married my mom back in 2001 and has been a real one from the jump. Sure, he’s a flawed man, and he tries. Trying is all you can do.
My daughter turns two on the day I post this. Every cue on how to be a dad I take from Bob.
I stand by the fact that parenting is easy if you always:
- Be present
- Apologize when you’ve caused hurt
- Listen and validate your kid
- Don’t lie
The nights can be long, I write this part of the essay at 3:18 am after a coughing daughter woke up needing a blown nose, milk, and snacks, but it all falls into place if you follow the rules above.
I know that because I saw how to do it and how not to do it.
My father was always physically there but never was present. He’d be at my games as a kid and all that but the moment you wanted to share something it never mattered. All the YouTube videos I thought he would like got “jeez Mike, this really isn’t for me. Why don’t you show it to your friends?” Thanks, bud.
Bob was there. Always up for a bit of fun with his kid. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve called him with some nonsense sports fact or note just to get a belly laugh from him. He doesn’t care. He cares immensely.
My father’s apology, verbatim, goes as follows every time: “Mike, I know we both said some intense things last night but I want to leave the past in the past and move on.”
Bob has battled anger issues as long as I’ve known him. An incredibly physically strong man, he’s a scary motherfucker when he flings something across the room. He’s done that a few times when we butted heads. Every time, bar none, he finds me once we’ve cooled off to apologize. Trying is all you can do.
As I started building a career and making money I wanted to get stuff for my father. I was so happy when I could finally afford some hockey tickets for us. At the game he made a show to me of giving me a check for the price of the tickets. “Mike, the daddy buys the tickets.” First, I was in my 20s. Second, I felt so fucking deflated. Just a puddle.
I had started getting back into local car racing after a decade-plus away from it. I asked my father to go to races with me. “Mike, don’t you think we’ve outgrown that?” Then I asked Bob one time. Instant yes and now we’re off trying to get to all 21 tracks in New England. I think we have 10 left but I usually forget a dirt track somewhere. It’s OUR thing. No siblings. No spouses. Just us a couple nights each summer hitting the road to see cars go in circles. It’s some of my absolute favorite days of the year.
The Whelen Modifieds are coming to White Mountain in June. My excitement for that one is immeasurable.
Lies come in many forms. They can be an outlandishly cartoon like saying that people are eating dogs. They can be lies of omission by leaving stuff unsaid. My father specialized in the lie of leading on. The Beanpot was, and still is, my favorite annual event in New England. The city championship for Boston’s four D1 hockey programs (BC, BU, Harvard, Northeastern) it rules in ways nothing else here does because there is no parallel to it.
I had always wanted to go but the games are traditionally played the first two Mondays in February. So as a kid my father would never do it because I had school. Then I went to college nearby and had off days in my schedule and he’d never do it because “he’d feel bad having me drive home that late.” And then when I was working and had the money and time to do it he couldn’t because it’s a work night and he had to be back at it tomorrow doing the difficult, important, and illustrious job of selling office furniture.
I asked Bob one time and we went and had a blast.
Constantly moving the goalposts is a lie, and it really fucks with your head. Bob doesn’t do that.
Lastly, this game today was a women’s game. I can’t count how many times in my life my father said “Mike, come on, you know I don’t watch chick ball.” Bob just asked what time the game started.
And now, as I get set to begin my third year as a dad, I look to Bob as inspiration for how to parent my daughter. I sure know how imperfect I am, and I can pinpoint bad moments of parenting so far. Things I can work to improve.
The work is the journey is the fatherhood is the joy. I love my daughter so much. And I’m grateful I have a man in my life that I can look up to and talk to about how to be a dad.
The Good Eats
There are moments in life when you know you are at an important place. Walking on historic land that truly, properly means something.
That’s what it was like to walk into the Puritan Backroom: birthplace of the chicken tender.
Yes. This homey and cozy spot right off Route 93 can lay claim to being the birthplace of THE chicken tender back in 1974. Hallowed ground.
Founded by Greek immigrants Arthur Pappas and Louis Canotas in 1917, the Puritan started as a candy company before growing into this massive complex with multiple function rooms, an adjoining conference center, and the restaurant in the back.
Today, the Pappas and Canotas families still operate the facility including recently re-elected congressman Chris Pappas.
The menu is expansive and feels incredibly familiar to this lifelong New Englander. Part Greek deli, part old Yankee haunt.
Being mid-December, the drink specials were decidedly Christmas in theme, and some were absolutely bonkers in their construction.
Bob and I each got the fried chicken tender platter. It came with a soup, which on the day was chicken, lemon, rice, as well as bread and butter for the table.
The bread was excellent. Never have I had the dual selection of pita pockets and dinner rolls. Both were warm and hearty.
The soup was….different. Thinner than I would hope from a bowl of chicken, lemon, rice, it also asked the question “but what if only lemon?” It was almost sour. Clearly it was homemade, chicken pieces don’t come shredded like that in a can, and it just was not good.
In fact, if I had to describe it in one word I would describe it as…
But there was still the chicken to eat. And at $21 for the meal I expected something good and filling.
I got a mountain.
The avalanche of tenders went under the fries. It just kept going and going and going. And with it came the restaurant’s own in-house duck sauce.
It was tremendous. The Puritan also has broiled tenders which comes with the “special” sauce. It’s soy, olive oil, lemon, and seasonings.
This chicken was excellent. Tremendous. TREMENDOUSLY Tremendous. The history and accolades might be there but the quality has not been skimped on at all. The breading is incredibly thin and toothsome, not super crunchy.
You think that would be bad for fried chicken, but it worked perfectly. It kept the focus on the perfectly marinated chicken. The duck sauce was sweet, very thin, and complemented it all.
The fries also did the job. I yell from the rooftops how important good fries are to a meal, and these frites were a perfect Robin to the chicken’s Batman. Fries + duck sauce didn’t work out for me so I stuck to ketchup, but that’s a me thing.
The plate was so big that I had enough leftover to be my wife’s whole dinner that evening. Bob had lunch for the next day. We could have finished it but Bob and I are forever aligned on one thing: being ice cream boys.
And the Puritan makes their own ice cream in house, holding to their roots as a place built on sugar and sweetness from the jump. I got a split of chocolate and mint Oreo with chocolate sprinkles.
The mint Oreo was good. The chocolate will make an atheist believe in god. Holy shit was this exquisite. My stomach got revenge on me the following day. Didn’t care. Will gladly do that to myself again.
Mom wasn’t happy Bob had this four hours before a dinner date at a friend’s house, but hey, we’re ice cream boys: this happens.
The Campus
Southern New Hampshire University. You’ve heard of it. You’ve seen the commercials about the continuing education and online program. You know this.
You don’t know that the university turns 93 in 2025 and has been a staple in the Queen City since its founding as the New Hampshire School of Accounting and Secretarial Science. It was most widely known as New Hampshire College from 1969-2001 before changing its name to SNHU.
Former university president Paul LeBlanc, who ran the school from 2003-2024, saw the writing on the wall and went to the trustees with an ultimatum: We can continue on our course as a small university in the city and wither away or build out a digital presence unmatched in the space. Whatcha wanna do? (This was told secondhand to me by an old contact who worked in the school’s comms department).
The trustees went with choice number B. And the enrollment numbers don’t lie.
But there’s still a 300-acre campus that straddles the Manchester/Hooksett line. And SNHU has always been a non-profit, like any other traditional university. So it grew like a weed under LeBlanc’s leadership.
He got his name on the building that houses the school’s engineering, technology, and aeronautics programs.
The University spent $25 million on Penmen Stadium in 2017, a sleek, modern facility for the school’s soccer, lacrosse, and track programs.
From the connections I have there, there is no interest in adding football or elevating the athletics to Division 1. SNHU, which also has the naming rights on the 10,000-seat arena downtown, is thriving in a world of upheaval in higher ed by doing it their way.
The Gym
While most of the athletics are on the Hooksett side of the town line, the Athletic Complex sits on the Manchester side.
Right out front are banners to recent success the Penmen have had.
Down the stairs and a long ramp sits the Stan Spirou Fieldhouse. Named for the longtime coach of the men’s basketball team. He has a banner inside illustrating his successes over his 33 years as coach.
Outside in the lobby are multiple cases full of trophies and other awards including a pair of national title trophies for the men’s soccer team.
In all my years being around sports I had never seen a form in the gym detailing the room’s capacity limits until I walked into Spirou.
Before we head off into the game we should take a second and have a moment with Bella.
The Game
I picked this game for the blog solely because D’Youville is a silly word to say. I wanted to save it for posterity.
D’Youville is a small Catholic school in Buffalo with just 1,400 undergrads. However, I’ve gone to italics because of the last sentence on the school’s History section of its Wikipedia page: In 2024, the university featured an AI robot, Sophia, as its commencement speaker. I’m sorry, what?? It’s horrifying.
I have it teed up right at the start of the speech. I hate it so much.
With that out of the way we can talk ball. It was a game between two teams trying to figure this year out. SNHU came into the game 5-4 and, like the rest of the Northeast-10, chasing top-5 Bentley. DYU had two wins and needed a spark going into the holiday break.
And the Penmen came out on a heater, ending the first quarter up 22-7. But the visiting Saints were obstinate and didn’t roll over.
It wasn’t the prettiest basketball but it was working and clawing D’Youville back into the game. But that sloppiness burned them throughout the afternoon.
Meghan Gordon finishes this transition bucket to extend the lead back to 12.
Credit to D’Youville though, they kept chipping away throughout the period. Aliviya Vallone-Russell dropped in one of her game-high three triples to break through the wall and get the deficit back to single digits.
With less than a minute to go in the half, and the deficit down to just nine, all D’Youville had to do was get to the horn and they’d go into the half with positive momentum.
All the Saints had to do was get out of the quarter. Easy.
The truest heave you ever done seen. And Davis’ launch put SNHU back up 15 at the break.
After the break, the game puttered along without much in the wow department. SNHU kept building on the lead, DYU kept taking poor shot and getting spun around on defense, neither team executed well consistently.
All of the fits and bursts were on display in the middle of the third when neither squad could get out of first gear.
When the Penmen got going they went beyond the horizon. This Sydnie DeVries bucket was everything positive for SNHU: spotting down a rebound and then maliciously owning the paint for a bucket.
Stephanie Davis drove the lane with impunity for another bucket late in the quarter. The lead just kept growing and growing for the Penmen.
Davis had that majestic half-court swish to end the half. Surely she wouldn’t have another buzzer beater. That would be preposterous.
Southern ended the third up 23 points. I didn’t even bother filming any of the fourth quarter. A wire-to-wire win for the Penmen.
Southern New Hampshire 77, D’Youville University 50. Final.
Admission Price – free
Time of game – 1:29:20
Player of the game – Stephanie Davis (SNHU): 16 points, 4 rebounds, 3 steals, 2 buzzer beaters
That was a fun afternoon. Brutally cold but fun. I don’t get to spend many afternoons just with Bob. I love that man. He’s wonderful company and I hope we do this more. He was with me for the Hoops Project all the way back for #4 at Bowdoin in 2019.
I love having points tethered by time that I can look back on. Back then I had just gotten engaged. I hadn’t started my new career in financial planning, nor was that even on my mind. Kids? Lol, that wasn’t a thought for me. Yes, that man was me but it was a different life, a different person.
We all live a series of lives during our mortal years. All are pieces of the pie that make me ME. And it feels nice to be able to tie the eras together, step back and see how I’ve grown, and be able to do that while spending time with someone I love.
And if any of you tell Bob I said all these nice things about him I will deny everything.
…
Thanks for reading, here’s one for Bob and the road…
Through the Curtain 
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