Bring Your Own Lunch; Bring Your Own Salami
My dad emailed me a clip from "The Kid From Brooklyn's" website about Yankee Stadium.
Generally, when it's a forward, and it's anti-New York Yankee, it's for me and I'll take three... But this was one part funny, one part vulgar, and another part disturbing. Let's recap:
- The funny part was that he was right about the Toilet's raw hot dogs and "piss warm beer." And the visual of him at the concession stand is priceless.
- The vulgar part came when he used the word that I replace with shampoo about 347 times in a two-minute span.
- The disturbing part is when you realize that this 400 lb. guy, who looks like the strange offspring of Don Corleone and Mike Francesa, is sitting in his basement, in a wife-beater, spewing profanities into a webcam.
To view this video, click here
. And if you're at work, you might want to close your door.
I also put the Kid From Brooklyn's Website on the links, under "the Big Man's Always Happy To See Ya." Please check it out.
Yay! Martina Hingis
is coming back!
Love the Swiss Miss. I wonder if she ever gets drunk, gets bitter, picks up the phone, and decided to drunk dial her ex-Sergio Garcia and taunt him about not having won a major...and her having won five.
Was doing a little bit of baseball reading today and stumbled on this tasty bit from the New York Daily News
"The Yankees so far have not tipped their hand on whether they'll get in on Damon, but their need for a center fielder is obvious, to the point that manager Joe Torre went on the ''Tony Danza Show' to dismiss a report that he was contemplating using Alex Rodriguez or Derek Jeter in center, which he was quoted as saying in a Reuters dispatch. He also told the Reuters reporter that closer Mariano Rivera could play center, too, Torre said, making light of the report, but that did not appear in print."The TONY DANZA Show??? WTF?!?!?
C'mon Rick Cerrone...what, was the Kid from Brooklyn
-----This story is a bit troubling
. But, in its own sick and ironic way, it's funny.
The guy from "Shoot the Freak" turns into "Stab the Jet fan."
Manny Ramirez just put his $6.9 million dollar apartment up for sale, in advance of his being traded from the Red Sox.
I am not in favor of this, but I am resigned to it. But not this fan of the Olde Towners
. Nope, he started a website called KeepManny.com
. Click on it and check it out.
In a related story, I just began a website for a cause I believe in. Log onto www.gotodinnerwithmescarlettjohannson.com
(p.s. - the site doesn't work, nor do I think it will...she's with that Josh Hartnett guy and I think that he is so ewww.)
ESPN Full Court tonight - Golden Eagles at the Cornhuskers, 7 p.m. CST.
Paul Konerko? Whoop-de-damn-do
The h.c. of the new Kings of New York, the Iona Gaels, was interviewed on Mike and the Mad Dog this afternoon. Click over to WFAN's homepage
and listen in.
Word out of the Patriots' locker room is that ProJo beat writer Tom E. Curran and backup linebacker Monty Beisel got into it.
How refreshing, Beisel is finally trying to hit someone. Typically, he missed.
That's it. Have a nice night.
The Week That Is
Well, I'll make this brief, as the next eight days are pretty hectic for me. In addition to the four basketball games - two road, two home, one on TV (CSTV, Tuesday night if you're not near the Al McGuire Center...if you are near the Al, come on by to witness history.)
Oh yeah, and toss in the LSAT on Saturday morning, and you have a fantabulous, terrific week...with no time left for me to enjoy a few celebratory cocktails.
Well, maybe one or two on Saturday.
I can honestly say that the LSAT prep has not gone according to plan. In some senses, it hasn't really gone. But what the heck, right? There are some dumb shampoos out there who are lawyers. And it's just a test. I'll wing it. I'll be fine. I got smarts. To quote my man Big G, "I'm dumb smart."
Great attitude, right? Having that plan my whole life might be why I'm the habitual underachiever...and exhibit A as to why I'm doing what I'm doing and not something better.
But, then again, I watch basketball for a living and get my school paid for. Pretty good racket I suppose.
Until later, be sure to tune into the hoops. And if you're a hoops junkie like me, don't miss this great newish site Midmajority.com
. I might be a Big East guy at a Big East school, but my heart is always with the MAAC and the mid-majors. In a perfect world, the Big East gets 10 and the MAAC gets two out of 65.
So on Sunday, if you're within driving distance, hit the Hynes Center for Vermont/Iona. Vermont has been the national media darling for the last three years. Last year, they got one of the biggest scalps of all-time. But, like everything cyclical, the Catamounts are "rebuilding." In some senses, they're also "re-inventing." But they still have guys on that team that know what 25+ win seasons are like...they're a tough out. And the Gaels? Well, they might contend for the 05-06 part of UVM - get into the tourney, make some noise, and have a side-splitting post-game press conference. Also having seen Winthrop, they're pretty dog-goned shampooing good, too.
Big kudos to Hofstra tonight, as well. Nice to have the top three towns in NYC hoops be New Rochelle, Hempstead, and Brooklyn Heights... Hope the big-timer can keep the PR shop afloat.
Ok, I gotta go do venn diagrams. What the hell this has to do with the price of tea in China, I know not.
Until then, I am now.
AMES, Iowa (AP) - Ricky Soliver scored 16 of his 23 points in the first half and Steve Burtt collected 17 of his 23 in the second half, lifting Iona to an 89-72 victory over Iowa State on Saturday night.
Iona (3-0) made seven 3-pointers over Iowa State's zone defense in building a 40-37 halftime lead, then turned back the Cyclones (3-1) repeatedly in the final 20 minutes before pulling away down the stretch to win the Cyclone Challenge.
The Gaels did a good job slowing Iowa State's running game and kept the Cyclones from getting the ball inside, forcing them to settle for jump shots. Iowa State shot just 4-for-17 from 3-point range and missed eight of 20 free throws.
Soliver went 4-for-5 on 3-pointers, all in the first half, and finished 8-for-16 overall. He was named the round-robin event's most valuable player. Burtt was just 6-for-20 from the field but made all 10 of his free throws.
Iowa State had won 21 straight nonconference games at home since losing to Iowa in the 2003 NIT.
Iowa State twice got to within a point in the second half, the second time at 54-53. The Cyclones had a chance to take the lead when a triple-team forced Gary Springer into a traveling violation, but someone from ISU missed a driving shot and Iona scored the next eight points.
Springer started the run with a three-point play and Marvin McCullough finished it, falling into the Iona bench after hitting a 3-pointer that made it 62-53. After Iowa State drew to 62-57, McCullough came through again, slicing through the Cyclones' defense for a layup that put the Gaels up 64-57 with 8:01 to play.
A 10-3 burst that Burtt capped with a 3-pointer took the lead to 76-62 and finished off the Cyclones, whose frustration mounted as the lead increased. Iowa State players twice for called for intentional fouls in the final two minutes because a mid-major team laid them down and smacked-em-dacked-em.
Way to go Gaels, keep it up. You made a dark Montana weekend brighter.
Happy Thanksgiving, y'all.
I say y'all because I'm in Montana, and with all the giant 10 gallon hats I've seen - and I've only been awake for two hours - makes me think that this tony Montana town (no, not Tony Montana
...or Joe Montana
...) is big on the y'alls.
Well, it's Thanksgiving and I'm not in God's Country. and I'm missing it.
Oh sure, because of the gig, I've had holidays cut severly short or missed them altogether. But it's never bugged me like it has this last week or so.
I was Crabby Abby yesterday and today I'm Melancholy Ollie - there's no place I'd rather be than Jimmytown. No disrespect to Bozeman, Anchorage, Ames, wherever. I'm just homesick.
In the past, no matter if we were traveling right before, right after, or smack-dab in the middle of the Tryptophan holiday, it was never a problem. Home was always a 2.5 hour drive North.
New town, new gig, new rules.
Time to pull myself up by the bootstraps and get back on the horse. Well, at least, I think that would be a Montana sentiment...
I've spent a good chunk of this blog pouring out the praise about the technological wonder that is the iPod.
Yesterday, beginning the Minneapolis-to-Bozeman swing, I was treated to an unbelievable five-songs-in-a-row stretch. Now, technically you're not supposed to use approved portable electronic devices below the 10, 000 foot hard deck (Maverick, call the ball...), but I do.
It drowns out all my biggest annoyances while strapped into an alumnium tube going 450 mph: crying babies or people-talking-louder-than-they-really-need-to-be-about-things-they-don't-need-to-be-talking-about-goddammit.
The five song stretch began with Paul Anka's "My Way" covered nicely by Hobeken's own Francis Albert Sinatra. In a morbid note, I want that song played at my funeral, as they wheel the casket out of the Church. I will be putting that in my will. On an even further side note, I do a great "My Way" in karaoke, a fact that many of the folks at the Backyard Pub in New Roc can attest to.
After the Sinatra standby classic came Damian Rice's "The Blower's Daughter, " which makes me think of Australia and the great three-week stay I had down there this past March and April. And, ironically enough, I brought the copy of the mover "Closer" with me to watch during some of the Bozeman down-time.
Then Johnette Napolitano - of Concrete Blonde fame - did her brilliant cover of Coldplay's "The Scientist." It is a great song, always makes the eyes water thinking of the love and subsequent loss encountered during the "A Rush of Blood to the Head" era.
Ray LaMontagne - not to be confused with sculptor Armond - is my new favorite artist right now. And while "recording artist" is an oft-overused synonym for "singer/songwriter," it fits Ray to a tee. His song "Trouble," kinda summed up my feelings about things to that point. There's not an artist out there right now that sings with as much passion as Ray does. If you've ever listened to Joe Cocker and his raspy singing voice doing "A little help from my friends," you'll get a sort of understanding of how much Ray puts into his songs.
And to cap it off? The Wu-Tang Clan's "Wu-Tang Clan Ain't Nothing to Shampoo Wit."
I love the Wu. Shaolin 1-0-3-0-5.
On my television in Bozeman, a local ad for Joey Columbo's Pizza Village came on, with Joey himself doing the voice over. He hit me up with a "how-you-doin'?" that sounded about as Italian as Jackie Mason doing a Joe Pesci imitation. Oh, and let's not discount the old world sounds of the accordian in the background.
But then again, Bozeman seems like the kind of place that they send folks in the Witness Protection Program, so maybe pasta with marinara sauce won't be egg noodles and ketchup.
Just a second later, on ESPN SportsCenter, anchor Neil Everett called Drexel head coach Bruiser Flint "Buster." Easy Alice Eyres. Either way, nice showing for the Dragons. If it ends up Drexel and Hofstra in the CAA final, it will not only be a remix of the old America East powers - back when Mike Brey tried to outcoach Jay Wright, a trend that continues even today - it will also be a tough game for me to root for. I like 'em both, for many of the same reasons.
Good on Burtt, Kiril and the Gaels in Ames...JC and Da Kidds in Anchorage...and Boone, Denham and Rudy in Maui.
And good on the Bucks for beating AI and the Sixers. AI is probably my favorite NBA player, along with D-Wade, R-Gomes, and E-Brand to name a few.
This year's Maui Invitational has to be the best in-season tournament in recent history, perhaps all-time... Five former national champions. Five Final Four contenders. And one of the best games in regular season history - the 3 OT Gonzaga/Michigan State contest. Adam Morrison made a name for himself, dropping 43 on the Spartans and looking like he was ready to play hammond organ with the Doors. Maurice Ager's 36 points were no less impressive.
The following night, 18 hours later, MSU went another OT to beat Arizona and UConn needed a Denham Brown Sikma-move with 1.1 left to beat the Zags and bring the big surfboard back to Storrs. Great hoops. Here's hoping they continue to stack the deck for these "preseason" exempt tournaments. It benefits the game, the fans, the schools involved.
Ok, enough from me. Get off your computers and get back to a second-helping of stuffing and mashed pertaters.
And to my peeps - no matter whether you're a few timezones or a few hemispheres away - I'm thinking of you, missing you, and hope you are all doing well. A big part of all of you (or y'all) is with me here in Big Sky country.
One. (gobble, gobble)
Beckett's Baseball Guide
At times, I think about things.
I'd like to say everybody does, but I'm just not that optimistic about humanity these days.
I think about war, peace, the designated hitter, if I should've made that phonecall, written that e-mail, or packed that bag.
I think in "what if's." Sure, that practice can be maddening at best, futile at worst as there is nothing - NOT ONE THING - a soul can do about things that are done and beyond their control.
But what if, 42 years ago in Dallas, John Fitzgerald Kennedy was NOT assassinated? How much different would the world be today?
There would have almost certainly been two terms with JFK in the White House, potentially eliminating the LBJ presidency...potentially eliminating the Nixon presidency. Potentially...oh, well, you get the point. There might not be enough room in cyberspace to get all those scenarios down.
But one thing is for certain: the solutions of "what if's" are not the point of the exercise. It is the exercise of thinking in itself. Or, if I may be so bold: Some men see things as they are and say why. I dream things that never were and say why not
Man, Tom E. Curran
and John Tomase
put forth two GREAT day-two articles about Steve Belichick. Don't miss them.
Ok, Josh Beckett is a Red Sox. I'm marginally happy. Certainly better than I was last night, where I thought there was this big conspiracy against Theo.
But I'm over that. I'm ok with trading the kids - not to be confused with "Da Kidds" - so, welcome, Josh Beckett.
I know that he whooped up on the Yankees in game six of the 2003 World Series. I remember this despite inhaling a 12-pack of Sam Adams Holiday Ale.
I also remember him not living up to the hype of becoming the next great right handed pitcher...the next Roger Clemens. Then again, since Roger is still the current Roger, it's a bit premature.
Back to Beckett...I doubly remember him dating Alyssa Milano, too. Or something like that. She's the Tara Reid of pitchers, the Winona Rider of guitar players. But I'm getting off track here.
This was a deal involving a guy with lots of potential and some actuality, plus a guy who's prolly seen his better days...for a young phenom that plays a position that lots of others in the organization play, and two potentially good pitchers.
Ok, let's review. If Hanley Ramirez were THAT good, then the Red Sox would have simply signed a cheap stop-gap at shortstop last year, instead of investing four years and 40 million in Edgah. If he was that good, or that ready, they'd have switched his position, made him say 'wickid" a lot, whatever. He is good. He will probably be very good. But the grand scheme of
things, a 25-year old good pitcher is more valuable than a 21-year old maybe good shortstop.
As for Sanchez and Delgado - the other guys in the deal - I dunno.
It's not Pavano and Armas Jr. for Pedro back in 1997, but, ceteris parabis (yes, I was an economics major in college), it's the 2005 equivalent.
I just hope they can spin Lowell off for JC Romero or Carlos Silva. Then I'll pop open a few more Sam Winter's and reminisce.
For a more mainstream - ants-in-the-pants if you will
- account, read Bill Simmons' thoughts on the trade.
It was a good piece. Entertaining. A throwback, if you must. Check it out
And another as another good friend and loyal reader pointed out, "the Sox don't even have a GM and they're still making blockbuster trades happen."
Maybe the Yankees can trade for Ken Griffey, Adam Dunn, Gorman Thomas, and Rob Deer. You know, just so they have a little more offense.
Two things I love about college basketball:
1. I get paid to watch it.
2. Bill Raftery's "manaman!" call.
(ok, there are more than two things I love about college basketball. There are actually more than 200 things. But in an attempt to summarize and stay on track, I'll condense it to a few topics...)
2b. The Maui Classic and D-II Chaminade annually tossing a few monkeywrenches in the direction of the high-majors. (whoops, I'd better be careful, seeing as how I'm a high-major now...ah, what the heck, I still have time to have a latte and talk shampoo at General Mitchell International Field with the squad that will be getting the pub around January as the sleeper
squad...but I digress)
Anyway, the Silver Swords always give some coach, with a shoe contract and a TV show, 40 minutes of agita. Today, down two to Maryland at the half, is yet another instance.
2c. Watching West Virginia play. Ok, so I really need to be careful because on Jan. 14, I have to renounce that statement.
But watching Coach Beilein's offense and defense, watching them move the ball, be patient, and always know that at any point during a 35-second span, they can get a good shot off...and then on defense...spacing, switching, denying, blocking out...they're all fundamentals. God, they're all fun to watch.
Among the many highlights of Sydney, Australia this past April, was watching the Mountaineers make it into the Elite 8...and then come a few possessions short of the Final Four...
Add the fact that WVU has a mascot that carries live ammunition and Hendricken standout guard Joe Mazzula in 06-07, c'mon...it's gold, Jerry! GOLD!
(or Warriors... crap, make that Golden Eagles...or, um, hell, now I'm digging a hole.)
Yes, Yes...Fine, Fine...
First things first.
Mad props go to Richard Kiplagat and the Iona Runnin' Gaels at the NCAA Cross Country Championship today. Kip was second overall, just six seconds away from becoming the NCAA Champion. The Gaels placed fourth overall as a team, coming home with their second trophy and podium appearance in the past three years. And that makes me happy, as both Richard and the coaches at Iona are among some of the best people I've come across. Not just in the biz, but overall.
When you talk about Cinderella's in the Big Dance, it's always that small school that comes up big once in a Blue Moon. That team used to be Gonzaga, now they're as much Cinderella as Paris Hilton is Mother Teresa.
Same goes for Iona. They cracked the top 10 nationally six years ago, in 1999. Since then, they've finished no worse than seventh. The cat's out of the bag now.
You can stay as late as you want at the ball - or the pub, whatever your fancy. The Gaels are Cinderella no more.
Onto the other stuff.
Yeah, this blogging thing has gotten short. And I do apologize.
But, seeing as how the thing began as a cure for acute ennui, the lack of updates means I'm busy. And that's a good thing.
Can't leave a mind like this fallow like an Iowa cornfield:
Hopefully the press will respect the privacy and the gravity of the passing of Bill Belichick's father. Somehow, I think they will. The respect and reverance that is often doled out in smaller pretenses have been dolloped in today's papers.
Except today, they're well-earned. Especially Bob Ryan's column in the Globe
I can't wait to dive into "The Education of a Coach" by David Halberstam.
The Sox are interested in giving up the farm - in one sense, literally - for either Josh Beckett and AJ Burnett. Me? I vote no.
When is the last time either of these guys threw 200+ innings?
When is the last time a Marlins pitcher made the move to the hitting-friendly AL and flourished?
These guys have to be on their "A" game each and every night, with 19 games each against the Yankees, Blue Jays, Orioles, and even, yes, the Devil Rays. Hold onto the kids, hold onto the money, and wait for some more safe bets.
My computer has a cold today. Good reason, as snow is in the forecast all week in the MKE.
Saw this tidbit from Maya Angelou, regarding Homeland Security, in the NY Daily News
"People are frightened by a statement made by somebody who means to terrify," she said last week at the Women in Film tribute in L.A. "'Next Friday will be a yellow alert day.' What is that stupidness?"
You gramatical scholars out there: is it "stupidness" or "stupidity?" Just curious.
Oh my. Oh my. The cold my computer had earlier prevented me from listening to my beloved WMVY radio.
But now it works. Back-to-back songs: "Somewhere only we know" by Keane and then "Sweet Jane" by the Cowboy Junkies.
It makes me want to curl up in a ball underneath my desk and just smile.
Which, considering that about 85% of the office is in Alaska, is not a far-fetched proposition.
Keydren Clark, the best college basketball player you haven't heard of (unless he's dropped 38 on your squad), is profiled in a nice piece by Sean Brennan (the best college basketball writer a mid-major could have) in today's NYDN. Check it out here
That's it for now. Have a good one.
And memo to Big Lou: stock up the fridge.
Thoughts before Evansville
Saw this tidbit in the NY Post's
Page Six: Tara Reid, celebrating her 30th birthday in Miami, was "drinking straight from magnums of Champagne," says a spywitness. "By 4 a.m., she had to be carried out of the bar by her friends." Before her conspicuous exit, she told friends that she preserved her anonymity by using the alias "Stoli Summer" ...
Say it ain't so...
This list was sent in from another loyal reader. Thank you.
Click here: http://www.4q.cc/chuck/index.php?topthirty
And thank you too
(imagine it's a jock jams CD
...) Da-nah nah nah nah nah nah nah...HEY! YOU PERV! Da-nah nah nah nah nah nah nah...HEY! YOU PERV! Da-nah nah nah nah nah nah nah...HEY!
On that same note, here's a great line from Dave Attell: "Just once, I would like to read in the paper: 'Drunk Driver Hits Other Drunk Driver as Pedophile Dies of Shock'"
And last, but certainly not least, is the story of Rhode Island's own Vinny Pazienza
- former boxing champion, now just flat out broke.
Pazienza, er, "Paz" - yeah, he legally changed his last name. Not because it is Spanish for "peace," but because I fear he took too many jabs to the head to be able to spell P-A-Z-I-E-N-Z-A anymore.
Well, if you know RI and you know Vinny Paz, you'll also know the Italian slang term "cafone." In the Italian-American dictionary, there's a picture of this clown.
While a boxer, he dated wanna-be Playboy models and porn stars, drove around in his white Porsche, and overall acted like a, well, a cafone. A dickhead aglio oilo.
After retiring, he had a stint as a "celebrity host" at Foxwoods - more on that later - and then did some television. Neither panned out too well.
Since then, Vinny Paz has turned into a bit of a joke into himself. He racked up a few gambling debts (see: 300k at the Mirage alone..), a few arrests, and IIRC, got pulled over for a dewey or two in Rhody.
Anyways, he just declared bankruptcy, to help circumvent his gambling debts.
Like I mentioned to my man TP, back in the day, if you racked up 300k in markers in Vegas and didn't repay them in a timely fashion, two big guys who aren't related named Gino knocked on your door. They only knocked once.
Ah, how I long for the good ole days.
Enjoy - I'll be in Evansville, Indiana the next 36 hours. Pray for me.
A Quick TLBR Weather Update
From the TLBR AccuForecast, Doppler 175,000, Pinpoint WeatherCenter, here's Brick Tamlin.
It's freaking snowing out.
So for those of you sweating back in God's Country, or in nearby Northeastermn states, get ready. Here cometh the Jet Stream.
A Quick TLBR Analogy
Alex Rodriguez:: AL MVP as Peyton Manning:: NFL MVP.
Put up meaningful numbers, win something, then come talk to me.
We’re going to party. Karamu, fiesta, forever. All night long.
I think it would've been a nice touch if the here's a great idea
Just one suggestion: get those easy-to-clean-up-vomit cars, as the legions of late 20/early 30-somethings will be more inclined to take the train after a long night at Turtle Bay, or Keats.
Or how about this plan: walk. It'll save the city of New York 10 numbers, three commas and a decimal.
Yesterday, the NY Post's
Page Six was reporting the bevy of "riders"
that the folks that won the $340 million dollar jackpot wanted to appear on the Today Show.
If I won 340 million? The Today Show, Good Morning America, even the freakin' Jim Lehrer Hour...they'd need to hire CIA operatives to find me.
Of course, they'd probably need not go farther than here
First class? Overrated, for a domestic flight.
The Lion King? Seen it.
Saturday Night Live? Well, since Amy Poehler and Tina Fey have husbands, no thanks. (wait, I'm worth 340 million...oh, forget it.)
340 million. Damn.
In case you're wondering exactly why Kylie Minogue is the Crown Jewel of Australia, you need to click here
And then close the blinds and put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door.
Francis Dunnery's "Good Life" ranks up there with Ben Taylor's "Nothing I Can Do" as my favorite song of the week. And holy potatoes, Concrete Blonde's "Joey" just came on.
Which reminds me of one weekend this summer when me and the boys closed two karaoke bars in RI ...
On a Friday night, "Joey" - performed by yours truly - was the last song of the night. And while I am a big fan of it, and didn't really have to look at the screens for the words, I did forget that the song becomes sorta, well, un-singable for someone with my limited range.
But I gave it a shot. And when I hit the "drunk and passed on the flooooooor" note, all the dogs in the neighborhood ran and banged their heads against the door to the place.
After spending a good part of the early morning hours playing the movie "Anchorman" at an altogether obscene level of volume at 4 am, we returned to Newport for a nice day in the sun at the Black Pearl.
Around 9 p.m.,after moving the gig to Christie's where I bumped into the sales rep from United Van Lines who just 24 hours earlier had set up my move to MKE, some random other guy had scouted out my man Matty.
Who was it? Yeah, the karaoke DJ from the night before. Small world, small state. Small little karaoke sub-culture.
We had made an impression. I may have blown out a speaker or two. Whatever.
But he mentioned to us that there was another karaoke night down the road at O'B's. So, yeah, whatever, we went. And the song selection was much, much better there. I went with "She's Electric" by Oasis. Matt did a Dylan tune. Jeff did "Brandy" again. Or was it "Only a Woman" by Billy Joel? I can't remember and you can't possibly care.
Sorry about taking those precious few minutes away from your life right there with that story. But think about it in a half-full sort of mentality - you're that many minutes closer to the weekend. And with that, I bid you adieu.
Not too much going on here today.
Reading through Gordon Edes' GM meetings blog - good stuff. Nice to see the Globe relevant.
In a shameless way, I encourage you all to click on the links on the side. One blog in particular, Dave's World, had a bit of good news on it today. Dave (the title track of Dave's World) is moving onto a full-time gig with Fox Sports. So a hearty congrats to him for that.
And I leave you with this story
There have been stories about Theo Epstein donning a gorilla suit to escape the media hordes outside Fenway.
And there is a "superfan" here that comes to virtually every sporting event, dressed as a panda.
He also has friends that are cows, chickens, Superman, and then a few folks who dress up in uniform.
But this story is un-be-shampooing-lievable.
Two pandas get married. Pandas. Married. Riiiiight.
So skipping past the irrationality of deciding on staging a nuptial ceremony, uniting Chuang Chuang and Lin Hui till death do they part, or when the bamboo runs out...actually, no...we don't...they had a wedding procession with music (dunno if it was a band or a DJ)...they had a cake...they had a friggin' ice sculpture!!!
But the kicker, the front row orchestra seats to this opening night show at the theatre of the absurd? The guests. All wore panda suits. Panda suits.
I've heard of casual weddings - one on tropical isles where folks are dressed in traditional garb and barefoot...I've heard of cape weddings, which are suits and not tuxes...I've even seen the weddings in Vegas where folks wearing a "Take Me Drunk, I'm home" t-shirt, who have been playing blackjack and slugging back watered down 7&7's for 18 hours, decide to go to the Little White Wedding Chapel with the chain-smoking waitress from the Waffle House to make her an honest woman...
But panda suits?
(No confirmation if the Marquette panda got an engraved invitation, but methinks it would only be right and polite, as he is a panda. Sorta. Kinda. Maybe? Hey, you're making me look stupid! Get out of here, Panda Jerk!)
Sam Ryan & Ben Taylor Rule
Sam, thanks for the super patronizing questions, post-game.
And Peyton, once again, congrats on winning on Nov. 7. Really. It's awesome.
Shampooing Chuck Norris.
Man, what I wouldn't give to be living back in New England right now.
Carly Simon is playing a show in the Vineyard next week or so. Along with her son, Ben Taylor.
Yeah...Taylor. As in James.
And if you haven't heard Ben Taylor, man, you need to. I'd put my stamp on the "Another Run Around the Sun" LP most wholeheartedly.
Yes, Ben sounds like Dad. And since Dad rules, you do the transitive property.
Ben made an attempt at being James Taylor's son before, and it was alright. Good, not great. But the new album is so much better. Much more mature.
And I'd venture to say it's the best nine bucks I've spent in a long, long time.
See, I had to end the blog on a good note, kinda like having to leave the gym on a made basket. Like today. I was straight raining J's like my name was Travis Diener or Ryan Satalin. I almost felt embarassed for the fella guarding me.
Actually, no. I don't.
Ok, the Colts have a healthy lead.
40-21. 5:53 to go.
And they're going for two?
Ok. Ok, Tony. Ok, Peyton. Ok...
Time to send out the goons. You go for two, we go for knees. You try for two, we try for ruptured achilles.
Feel free to make it 42-21. Because if I'm Coach Belichick, I end things. I send people to chop block, clip, hack, and spear you.
Take your one win in Foxboro in the last eight tries and run away. Don't try to rub it in our faces. Because we'll make you pay.
The knock on the Indianapolis Colts is that they're undefeated because they haven't played anyone.
Guess what. That excuse can be continued for yet another week.
The Patriots aren't anyone. They're not that good. Oh sure, they might make the playoffs, but that might be a product of the weak AFC East.
That's not to say they couldn't turn it around and get on a roll. They could. But it's equally as possible for them to continue to parade Duane Shampooing Starks out there each week. That makes me scull shampoo Miller Lites, like, oh, say, tonight.
So congrats to Peyton Manning. Can we coronate him and give him a tiara and anoint him the chosen one? Can we? He won one. One. One and seven now.
Just get it over with...that, and T.O.
One (and seven).
I'll Never Be Your Beast of Burden
The Dunkin Donuts out here on Wisconsin Avenue is the worst in the country. And since there are only like five in the state, as opposed to home where they are five on every block, I have to deal.
Everyday - EVERYDAY - I go in there. Everyday I order the same thing. Large coffee, skim milk, one sugar.
Everyday - EVERYDAY - they screw it up.
It's gotten so that I say it slowly, emphasizing the size, quantity and style. LARGE...coffee (dramatic pause), SKIM milk...(sitting, waiting, wishing)...ONE (look at the barista, make eye contact so he/she understands the singularity of the sugar in the coffee) sugar.
And everyday - EVERYDAY - they repeat is back to me wrong. "Large, cream and two sugars?" "Light with skim milk?" "Iced frappochino latte?" It's like they're purposely doing it to piss me off. Guess what? They're highly successful.
Yesterday morning, I snapped. I told the cashier guy, who took it upon himself to take all the orders and then tell others to do it, my order. Not the most efficient system of food service, but far be it for me to say anything.
He told the braindead lady next to him, "largecoffeeskimmilkonesugar" and I knew - KNEW - this was getting shampooed up.
She puts decaf in the large - doesn't fill it up even remotely to the top - and starts shoveling in sugar like she has to dig her car out after the plows came by.
"NO, NO, NO..." I yell. "Large - and fill it up; coffee - with caffeine; and one - ONE - sugar." And then I may or may not have growled.
Today was no different. Back in the days on North Ave., I'd walk into the store and by the time I got to the counter, I had my coffee as Katrina or Liz knew this how I do (makin' moves and act a fool while up the club) . Out here, there is another lady who thinks she know...but she don't know. She tries to be slick and act like she remembers me, my face, my coffee. Today, she put 1.5 sugars in - I didn't complain, she was in the ballpark and at least midway through dumping the second sugar, stopped - and said sorry. But still.
Ok, enough whining. Here's today's stuff:
According to Jeff Horrigan's article in the Boston Herald this morning, Kevin Millar is resigned to the fact the he would not be re-signed by the Red Sox.
Whew. That's news. Just like I'm resigned to the fact I'm not going to quit my job and join the AND 1 Tour.
Although, if Steve Burtt Sr. had a spot on the bus for a slow white kid with no hops and no handle, I'd be there with the Professor, A.O., and the Main Event.
My AND 1 nickname(s): Per Stumer, aka Ryan Satalin, aka Justin Farley. And if you get those jokes, you've seen a whole lot of
Congrats to Cam Neely on being enshrined in the Hockey Hall of Fame.
When Neely stopped playing, due to the rash of injuries he suffered, I stopped watching hockey. Same thing with Magic and the NBA, although Jordan brought me back.
But now, and maybe I'm biased, but Dwyane Wade and the new-look Celtics might bring me back. Let's start with D-Wade first.
Have you seen the new commercial? How many professional athletes in ANY sport give their alma mater as much love as D-Wade?
In all the print and tv commercials, he gives mad love to the home office here. You can see a slice of the playing floor in ESPN the Magazine and you can see he and Travis Diener in the :30 second spot.
On top of it all, he's wearing Converse: the shoe that WAS basketball in my formative years. Mad dap for that.
And this past weekend, as the Heat were in town to play the Bucks, MU honored #3 in their annual tip-off dinner. Not only did he stay for the whole thing, but he took photos with and signed for everyone in attendance. As luck would have it, I had a prior engagement.
As for the C's, well, they have two of my favorite college players in the last few years - Ryan Gomes and Dan Dickau - on top of Delonte West, Paul Pierce and a slew of others. Including Mark Blount...
And gotta give some love to the Milwaukee Bucks - who are 3-0 early on and also who credential fools like me - and the Big Melburnian Andrew Bogut. If he has any pull in this town, he needs to figure out a way to get Carlton Draught imported. Or even Boag's. Because I like Miller Lite and all...but that stuff kicks ass.
The New York City Marathon. For my money, it's overrated. I mean, it's still 26.2 miles, but if I had to pick one, I'd be the Boston (shocker, I know).
And to qualify for the Boston, I'd pick either Burlington or Hyannis. But again, I digress.
But this year's New York Marathons had several reasons why I was watching. I wanted to see how Mark Carroll would do, as well as the AMERICANS Meg and Abdi. (for all you distance runner haters out there, they are as American as apple pie, Chevrolet and breast implants. stop hating on them because they weren't born here.) I also had two friends in the race, one trying to make a splash and one just happy to be there.
But the finish was re-gosh-darned-diculous. It had always been the Beardsley/Salazar duel that people would mention as the penultimate fight to the finish over the grand-distance. Then, in 1998, it was the two Mexican standouts Paradis and Silva, who were separated by just two seconds - despite Silva taking a wrong turn.
But Paul Tergat - for my money, the most versatile distance runner in my lifetime - outkicking Henrick Ramaala, and having to lean at the tape like it was the 1,500m...amazing. It's amazing to see what modern training - and if you're a cynic, that means drugs - has done to distance running. You run 26.1 miles only to outkick someone.
And for Tergat to hold on for the win, after Ramaala was surging with everything he had, was outstanding. And it was fitting, considering the times that he was outlegged by Haile in the 10k.
Distance running is back, I hope. And with the long-time five-mile record at Van Cortlandt Park going down...the number of Americans in the top 5 of yesterday's race, and the renewed interest by prep and college runners to try to make a go of it out there, well, it'll be fun to watch. It won't be long till an American is on that medal stand.
Patriots 27, Colts 24. Vinatieri, set up by a remarkable Tom Brady two-minute drill, boots a 38-yard field goal to win it.
Seymour and Bruschi layeth the smackdown on Peyton. Randall gay makes a key pick. Mike Cloud scores a important TD.
More blurring the lines of news and entertainment and, well, ethics.
WTF is Steve Phillips doing making a mock Red Sox G.M. press conference? Apparently, they're doing a bunch of teams and tackling the big issues and questions of the Hot Stove League.
Look, two-points for creativity, but if we want to talk Hot Stove, put Peter Gammons on, not some hack who gave Mo Vaughn too much money and now wants back in the biz. SportsCenter should not be a forum for giving Phillips an open audition.
Ah, whatever. I'm done with ESPN. Jump the Shark, table for one.
And if this Boston Herald business article
is close to being accurate, which more than one person with semi-decent knowledge of how things operate at 4 Yawkey Way says is, then I'm done with the Red Sox, too.
Ok, onto the business of the week. Talk to y'all crazy kids later.
Soy un Perdedor
Well, well, well...an old friend and longtime TLBR reader pointed out that the site's updates are few and far between.
But luckily, all that can change as I now have internet access in the dee-luxe apartment.
So blogging things like the Ben Folds/Ray Lamontagne Austin City Limits is possible, like say, right now. And considering that Ben and Ray were the last two concerts I've attended, it's pretty sweet that they're on the same show now.
All things told, Ben Folds might be the best singer-songwriter out there right now - apologies to Sufjan Stevens, I just haven't heard enough of him. And apologies to David Gray, as well. (no apologies to Bright Eyes, because he's tremendously overrated and sucks).
And if Ben is not the best, well, then Ray is. Both shows were amazingly good, now that I can relax for a few minutes and think about it. But different.
Ben Folds' shows are always fun, his songs are fun, his audiences are fun, well, you get the point here, right? Ray's show was not fun. It was dark and emotional, like his lyrics. Like my (aforementioned) man says, "they break a lot of hearts with those songs."
If there's a spectrum, Ben and Ray are on the absolute polar opposite sides. But for crying out loud, the music is what matters. And the feelings, memories, introspection, that happens when I hear "The Luckiest" or "Still Fighting It" or "Burn" or "Hold You in My Arms," man, you can't even describe it.
The pulling, snapping, strumming and tugging of the emotional heart strings is without measure. -----
Got two books in this week - "The Education of a Coach" by David Halberstam and "Winning Secrets of the New England Patriots" by James Lavin. When the LSAT prep stops on Dec. 5, I'll dive into them.
Holy schniekies, Ray's singing "Trouble" with a strings section and I'm floored. I mean, without words. He's pouring even ounce of what he's got into this song. Maybe with some luck, I'll get spammed by a guy who has an Austin City Limits blog and can get me this show on DVD.
Austin City Limits is also the best music show on TV. It always has great bands, always with an acoustic element, and folks always bring their A game to the show. I've discovered alot of music and bands on this show that have meant alot to me over the years. Once again, this show doesn't disappoint.
Cool, good idea
. And then, can you go to presidency class? Or maybe back to the 10th grade?
-----Here's a new blog I found
. (one that I didn't get some stupid spam message about, but anyways...) It's funny.
Ok, it's not funny. But it is funny.
But, um, ok, I am heartless.
But you know you're going to keep checking it.
I'm sick of Terrell Owens.
But the thing that pisses me off most about him, and all the crap that he and his agent espouses, is that I'm not 100% convinced that ESPN is a willing co-conspirator.
Everytime T.O. chews gum, SportsCenter has the flavor. Stephen A. Smith reports how big the bubble is. Dan LeBatard is there to put out a cupped hand for T.O. to spit the gum out of his mouth, so that he has more room to put his foot into it. And Drew Rosenhaus is there, on his BlackBerry, calling every prominent free agent, telling them to turn on the TV so they can see how much pub he can get them (read: 4%).
Right now on ESPN.com, there's a big photo of T.O. and the caption "The Eagles Will Have to Survive without T.O. tonight." Survive?
Where is the game, Somalia? Baghdad? Bed-Stuy? Puhleeze.
It stinks. And I fear it's another episode of the news media blurring the lines.
It's getting cold.
Well, actually, it's only getting colder. But you can feel it and complain about it more.
Which means only one thing: college hoops season is here.
Thank god. And without crossing any professional lines, there will be a lot of hoops talk on TLBR in the next few days, weeks, and months.
Tonight? Best. Family Guy. ever.
The opening with bin Laden...Police Squad..."I like eating red carpet!" ... Sixteen Candles...Cobra Commander...Apache Chief (that was the highlight of my day, I think I'll go gamble.)...Chris doing the Jackie Mason impression...The Side Boob Hour...You'll never win by messing with the freaking FCC...
Boy, the only thing that would be better would be two new episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm and Extras. Wait, there are?
Woo hoo! Things are good!
Holy Potatoes, It's Wednesday?
A brief one this afternoon:
In this article, CNN reports that the CIA has secret prisons for terror suspects
No... Wow... You're kidding me.
This just in: Italians eat pasta.
Ok, maybe it's just because I live in Milwaukee now, and not some so-called major world capital, but WTF (if F = shampoo) is the deal with this bird flu? Did Larry Joe get sick? Or Sue? Or Eddie?
Is it legit, or another smokescreen to get the world scared to go outside? Anthrax, oooh oooh! Run! Anthrax is coming! How many people died from that, four?
SARS! SARS is going to kill everyone! Don't go to China! Don't go to Canada! Don't breathe in Asia! How many died from that, six?
Now we have a seven billion dollar plan to prevent bird flu? How about seven billion for new shampooing levees in New Orleans? Or to help build houses for those affected by Katrina...or anything?
Or how about seven billion to catch bin Laden? I don't know if he has bird flu, but he may have caught the clap from a camel... (ahhh, thank you. the 9:30 show is completely different than the 7)
I've had terribly enough of this Red Sox mess. What a pigshampoo.
They don't deal with this crap down the road, on Rt. 1. They don't. Plain and simple. Might be why they did three in the last four, as opposed to one in the last 87.
But I am paying attention to the heat it brings on the former "best sports page in America." Sad, especially since I think that the best city in America should have the best newspaper. Not some synergistic shill.
But, regardless, it makes for good reading; the Olde Towne team turns Page Six.
Theo Epstein had the job that all of us young(er) lifetime Red Sox fan folk dreamed of. And the thing that sucks is that he realized that dreams don't always come true. Heck, not only did he have the, then, best job in the world, but he was able to pull off the unthinkable. He presided over the Red Sox as World Series champs.
And then, just 12 months later, he walks...which is a credit to his maturity. Not too many folks his age - er, my age - er, our age, have the ability to do that. I mean, I recently changed jobs but I didn't leave my dream gig and I didn't arrive at my dream gig...although it's safe to call both a happy very-above-average.
He is mature beyond his years, which is why I think he was awarded so much professional respect to go along with his ability to relate to the 30-somethings out there. Yes, he could pull off the Nomar deal and help propel the Red Sox to the title that eluded them through the Presidencies of Woodrow Wilson through two George Bushes.
But in Chris Snow's article today in the Red sox Daily, er, Boston Globe
, it was pointed out that Epstein and his band of younger assistants met up in the office, cracked a few beers, and reminesed. Prolly told stories, laughed, let out a few beer farts, and called it a night after catching a little buzz.
But with the media crunch that has been THEO WATCH - all the local Brian Fantana's fresh off TEDY WATCH - positioned outside 4 Yawkey Way - the 31-year old former general manager of the Red Sox couldn't just walk outside. He'd get mobbed.
So he donned a gorilla suit.
Yeah, play that one in your head. All the boys laughing their asses off as their former boss dons a gorilla suit. All you needed was a beer funnel and a Girls Gone Wild video playing on the Fenway jumbotron. Maybe they'd vaseline a few doorknobs or throw shit off the Monster to see it go smash.
Officially, Epstein walked out of his office for the last time, even though he's going to remain with the team as a consultant for a few days. He left the park, probably took a right, and headed for his apartment in Back Bay. No one had a clue.
Metaphorically, the gorilla was telling. Epstein just walked away from a job he loved, with a team he loved, in the city he loved. All because of someone who thought HE was the proverbial 500-lb. gorilla.
On, in the efforts of full disclosure, as the Red Sox house is in disarray, here are two stories about two beloved New York Yankees (lifted from Boston.com and the New York Daily News).
Hideki Matsui: Time Magazine's Asian edition recently did a cover story on Asian Heroes, one of whom is the Japanese Yankee outfielder.
"Indeed, his only eccentricity, if it can be called that, is his extensive private library of adult videos. His refreshing ability to laugh self-deprecatingly about his porno collection, reporters say, is one reason why fans and even nonfans have taken to him so much. " says former reporter Isao Hirooka. "Hideki just wants to be like ordinary people."
Even odder is that in the very next paragraph, Matsui is described as having, "meaty, calloused hands."
Yikes. Fist-bumps all around for him. And for Moises Alou
Speaking of Yankees, Alex Rodriguez is back in the news today
, as the NYDN reports that the team has warned its third baseman about frequenting illegal poker clubs, but admits the Yankees are powerless to stop him from doing so.
"Officials aren't happy that the man considered by many to be the greatest active player is rubbing elbows with gamblers - some who presumably wager on baseball games," the report says. "With clubs being raided by cops and sometimes robbed by gunmen, the 30-year-old star's flirtation with controversy or possible danger is seen as odd for a player known for his perfectly scripted public image."
What's funnier, the sign or the guy to the right
The Final, Fatal Flaw
Well, welcome to the first intentional walk of the 2006 Red Sox season. (author's note: I wrote this long before I clicked over to see Shaughnessy's effing headline. Proof of this is a convo I had with a longtime TLBR supporter prior to even getting to a computer. Moral of the story: I'm at least as creative as that curly red-headed Holy Cross educated p.o.s.)
Except this time, an opposing pitcher isn't tossing four off-speed, off-location pitches to his catcher. It's the G.M. who put the four-fingers down for a sign, stood up, grabbed his stuff, and walked.
Oh, but don't worry, I'm sure Thursday the aforementioned columnist from the Globe will have some story about how Theo Epstein thought Yaz was an asshole, or how he wore pinstriped pajamas, or had a secret crush on Don Mattingly. Maybe Theo was to blame for the Pats' 3-3 record before Sunday night.
Either way, the Red Sox have a few battles to fight now: in the press, on their roster, and in their offices. I wonder which one will get the bloodiest.
But the bottom line is this: it didn't have to get to this point. But, thanks to the good work (did you sense that sarcasm?) by Larry Lucchino and the rest of the Sox crack p.r. driven front office, a bright young baseball mind and his staff of equally adept assistants have looted all the copy paper boxes in the Fenway office supply room to use to pack up their desks.
Oh well, onto 2006...and whatever effing slogan they're going to jam down our throats. Maybe they'll sell broken shards of the .406 Club as an effort to remind Sox fans that "We're Rebuilding in 2006!"
Ugh. Thanks beautiful.
More on (moron?) Shaughnessy...god I've already given this prick three namedrops in how much space so far today?
I broke my own personal embargo on reading his stuff today, just to see what the propaganda arm of the Sox would have to say.
And I found this. And it only bolsters my (low) opinion of him:"Late last week, it was pretty clear that Epstein's contract negotiation was coming to full boil. It seemed that the parties were getting close, and after much haggling about money and power, they were ready to announce a deal. I left messages with both parties Friday and that night they made a joint call to my home, insisting (on the record) that they were in radio silence and would have an announcement probably early this week.Off the record, there was quite a bit of conversation, and it seemed genuine and convivial. Epstein and Lucchino talked about mutual respect and working out differences and both indicated there probably would be a positive resolution Monday. Theo even made a joke about cleaning out his desk and Larry made a joke about Theo thinking he was Henny Youngman."
Ok...I know he did not detail the particulars of the off-the-record comments. But he paraphrased them. Hell, the fact he even referenced them is borderline wrong. (at least no one alleged "shaving points" off-the-record. whoops, that was unfortunate...)
And just a few paragraphs earlier, Shaughnessy arrogantly thumped his chest with the "if you want to blame me, fine."
This stuff - and granted, if you work in Boston and for the Red Sox, you pay dearly for that big White House...or in this case, that big Green Wall - but if there's a radio silence going (in public at least), then it ought to remain that way. That's no matter if off-the-record (which we all know is like a unicorn: something that's nice to believe in, but doesn't really exist) or not.
The latest fad to come out of Yawkey Way is the notion of privacy. Not a new theme, not something terribly taxing either. Players and staff can't even go out to Store 24 to buy a Gatorade without people hounding them. I know how this is; I've been one of "those guys" before. Call it maturity or something, but I've moved on from that. Many haven't. And that stinks.
But, in a way, it is to be expected in public. In private, it's not. There is a line. You can't govern the fans in Applebee's, bugging Trot Nixon or Tim Wakefield while they're trying the cabo chicken salad. You CAN within the negotiating room and the internal conference calls.
And if the parties most directly involved on the private side don't seem to recognize that or know quite what it means to keep things under wraps, then how can you trust them on every other seemingly more complicated issue?
Answer: you can't.
Be sure to click over to Scott's Shots, Chad Finn and Sheriff Sully's sites - the links are on the right side - for great perspective on the mess in the Hub.
Dave Scott gets after it, as always, and will hopefully be the one to bring this down. A veritable Woodward and Bernstein (closer to Bernstein, though) among the Boston sports media critics.
Sully makes a great point, which rides in the sidecar to my Shaughnessy/Globe stuff above: you have to feel for Gordon Edes and Chris Snow. It's not their fault that their paper is in cahoots and they get trumped on, arguably, the biggest story in Boston sports since, well, the shampooing World Series win. Finn, as usual, hits the nail squarely on the head. Click on over.
Allow me a moment to put on my delusional cap: Things are looking up!
My dream job is open, I'm sending in a resume...and then this tasty tidbit from the NY Post's Page Six: Leonardo DiCaprio and Gisele Bundchen, after dating for several years, have called it quits for good.
Dream job...dream girl...all in 12 hours. I'd better sharpen the C.V. and start doing about 125,000 crunches.
Yeah right. You wanna talk about privacy issues then...