The year was 1998. And the town of Lawrence was still reeling. Not from Quantrill and his band of racist raiders. But from a gang of ruffians every bit as motley. Lawrence investigators were being stretched thin. They had ‘em working in shifts.
Heinz staged an armed robbery, fooling the authorities into thinking he was mugged and relieved of his pizza-delivery cash. Ever the Robin Hood, he used the fraudulent proceeds to pay outstanding rent and avoid eviction.
Rybo claimed his golf clubs had been stolen from the airport baggage claim conveyor after a return flight. He threw a fit and demanded answers from American Airlines. The clubs were gone alright – secure in the back of Hanz’s Honda Accord. The two of them split the insurance claim money.
Cullen was involved in a doctor’s note forgery scheme so elaborate – and effective – that his would-be unexcused absences numbered in the hundreds.
I faked an anxiety attack in a large lecture hall when I realized, upon receiving my final exam and surveying the questions, that I had no chance of passing. The performance was so elaborate that the professor’s eyes welled with tears of empathy. I secured the answers to the test, returned the following day and calmly posted a 96.
I could go on. To name the crises narrowly averted of just Jon David Heinz alone would take longer than it did to build the Brooklyn Bridge.
Look, stability has never been our family’s calling card. It’s time we introduce some maturity into our ranks. And we don’t have to look far to find it.
A man who’s belonged from the beginning.
A man they call PK – like Subban, only much whiter.
A man with a laugh so genuine and contagious that it can transform a room – like Conan O’Brien, only much shorter.
Raised in the hood on Medinah’s No. 3, he’s a man with both grace and grit. A social chameleon who can operate comfortably among the fraternal organizations of West Campus Road and the degenerate drug houses of Vermont Street. Like Ryan Dardis, his longtime lover.
I give you the both great and diminutive Pete Kienlen.
Not since Likens forgot to wear a condom has there been an oversight as egregious as Kienlen not being involved here. Welcome home.
That brings us to 14 nominated, vetted and forever worthy lifetime members. With our $35 entry fee and winner-take-all format, it means 13 of us will be vying for a $490 pot this year. Rybo is not a threat. He remains and shall remain the only league charter member without a single title.
Those judging him from on high include:
2003 Jon Heinz
2004 Matt Cullen
2005 Matt Cullen
2006 Dan McClure
2007 Dan McClure
2008 Kevin C. Wilson
2009 Trevor Schmidt
2010 Dan McClure
2011 Brennan Hitpas
2012 Kevin C. Wilson
2013 Kevin C. Wilson
2014 Brennan Hitpas
2015 Matt Cullen
2016 Joe Fernandez
2017 Trevor Schmidt
2018 Jon Heinz
2019 Kevin C. Wilson
2021 Dan McClure
2022 Marc Sheforgen
2023 Kevin C. Wilson
Challenges met. Competitors bested. Obstacles overcome.
Cash can come to me via Venmo at @Marc-Sheforgen.
Picks, due by first tip Thursday, go here. League password remains 1609.
Aitz chaim he, Dude, as the ex used to say,
Commissioner Sheforgen
