Who is Matty Ice?
I often forget to introduce myself, especially when doing Beers Aren’t Bad talks. I prefer to let it rip. Convince myself most people don’t care.
But I have come to realize that most people do care, at least a little.
That’s probably why you’re reading.
Perhaps worse, maybe you’re reading to decide if you can trust me.
My simple answer? Maybe you shouldn’t. I’m just another random guy on the Internet. Didn’t your mom warn you about this stuff?
Either way, here’s a little slice of my story.
The Come-Up.
Grew up in a delightfully average New England town. Loved watching sports and doing as well as I could in school without trying too hard. Stayed in-state for college. The price was right and I’m a lifelong UConn basketball fan (if you need a reason to hate me).
Even though UConn was less than a half-hour from home, Storrs is in the middle of nowhere - tucked among rolling hills, quaint farms and forest. There is a huge drinking culture like most big schools.
Most of my relatives didn’t go to college so I did not know much about Greek Life. So my freshman social life was going back home, drinking in the dorms, or showing up to club meetings where it was hard to make friends. That got pretty boring. Everything changed when I joined a fraternity.
My fraternity experience was by far the highlight of college, yet we spent a lot of time complaining about it. Some wanted to reject the frat stereotype, others embraced it. Nobody could agree on how to treat the pledges. A constant battle of trying too hard while labeling others as tryhards.
Guys mostly broke into mini friend-groups based on their stances. Hard to agree on a group-wide identity.
But parties were a blast, and the friend groups were closer than anything I had before. With my parents going through a split, having guys to be around was huge for me. Especially at a time where most seniors start drifting off.
Went out with a bang with our second natty in four years (thank you Kemba and Shabazz). Six weeks later, was driving my packed Chevy Cavalier south of the Mason-Dixon for my first big boy job.
Not a Cop
Just kidding. It was a job at my Fraternity HQ. Discovering I could be a professional Fratsman was pretty ideal since I was an Education major who did not want to teach yet.
I knew fraternity could be impactful for so many guys, even better than it was for me. This was a chance to make it happen.
We spent the summer training in Lexington, Kentucky - then driving around America, visiting about 20-25 chapters a semester. Our bosses explained how to not seem like a cop, which is ironically how to make guys think you’re a cop.
One of my required meetings was to ask the risk manager “has anyone in the chapter participated in drinking games?” then checking the “no” box while both of us tried to keep a straight face.
This will be a later post, but two truths of my time at HQ:
I am eternally grateful for the experience. Met great people & learned a ton.
I found much of the “business side” of fraternity to be ineffective, a waste of money (including maybe my job) and not in students’ best interest.
Just a huge gap between the ideal experience visualized at HQ, and the actual things I would hear “in the trenches” - talking to brothers in their local bars and smelly kitchens.
These thousands of conversations in the trenches shaped what would become Beers Aren’t Bad. Although I had no clue at the time.
These Days
Since I hung up the cleats at Nationals, I’ve lived some life.
Traveled to the rest of the US (minus Alaska) and moved to Indy to be in the middle of all the action.
Got a real big boy job, learned some hard lessons, roped myself into this BAB thing, met Melanie the woman of my dreams, got laid off the big boy job (classic). Jesus became the Lord of my life; couldn’t preach the BAB gospel without it lining up with His.
We got pregnant on our honeymoon (jokes write themselves) and now have two beautiful little girls.
Now Melanie is running Tastefully Buzzed in her spare time (tell your lady friends) and crushing it. She amazes me every day and I am not just saying that because she will read this. Although that’s part of the reason.
Working with your spouse is not easy. Especially when you’re still newly married and trying to keep two tiny humans alive.
It’s an ongoing test of patience, forgiveness, trying not to compare ourselves to “normal people” our age, and explaining that we talk about beers when people ask what we do.
I love exploring America and passing that love to the girls. At the same time, there is such thing as too much travel. Chill days at home are the secret sauce.
We’re starting to realize that biking to a new coffee shop brings the same thrill as flying to a new city. With less crap to lug around.
Typical day at home, you’ll find us on the local trail and small-talking with the neighbors. Folks hang in their front yards here and it’s great.
Days are long but weeks are short. In the down time, I’ll be writing to y’all here. It’s always great to hear back from fans of the Brewvement.
Soon enough I’ll be back on campus, heading to a house near you.
And hopefully remembering to introduce myself.
