In which I examine crappy local sports journalism on a state-by-state basis, progressing through the states in terms of an alphabetical ordering of the heights of their tallest points. Because I can.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but I can't help but find this whole 52 52 52 endeavor remarkably similar to the video below...
Although, to be fair, I grunt way more than that. I'm talking female tennis player levels of gruntitude. What can I say? I'm a loud worker.
I'm also from Illinois (and, by that, I mean I lived there for the first eight years of my life I actually remember), which makes today's entry rather near and dear to my heart. So let's do our best and give a shout out to everybody's favorite 1325-foot highpoint, Charles Mound:
1. It's described as a "gentle" slope. Why are all our nation's highpoints so damn uninspiring?
2. It's "within the Driftless Area, a region of Illinois, Iowa, Minnesota, and Wisconsin, centering on Dubuque, Iowa, that was not covered or ground down by the last continental glaciers." I don't know how interesting that is, but "the Driftless Area" sounds rather badass. Kinda mystical or something. Not really sure. I probably am reading too much Lord of the Rings. By which I of course mean any amount of Lord of the Rings.
3. A couple called the Wuebbels own the land, and they only let people on it four times a year due to theft concerns. That might sound reasonable, but I feel likely this is just part of a larger anti-whippersnapper agenda. Possibly also an expansion of the "get off my lawn" mantra. I'm not sure. Incidentally, I have no reason to assume the Wuebbels are old. I am, in fact, an asshole.
Now, since we're talking Illinois, I really feel I've got to go straight to the source of Illinois's greatest journalistic talent, one Mr. William "F. Buckley" Leitch. That's right people, we're off to Mattoon! Woot! Let's see the sort of sterling journalism that inspired the world's greatest emeritus sports blogger. Journal Gazette scribe Brian Nielsen, the floor is yours. Hit me with your best shot!
Some good signs are there for EIU's offense
Knowing Leitch, I bet this is going to involve breasts. Or some form of pep talk from Ron Zook. I also can't rule out the Arizona Cardinals being involved in some capacity. Maybe the spirit of Barbaro and/or Isaiah Thomas's career? Let's find out together!
Passing the 1,000-yard rushing mark in his career, Travorus Bess might just be showing Eastern Illinois fans he can be the feature running back.
Oh, a running back. How blase. How bland. How old media. How...actual. Frankly, I would have expected something far less relevant.
“I don’t think that was ever a question,” Bess said after running for 183 yards in Eastern’s 47-21 loss at Illinois Saturday. “For some reason, I’ve just seem to always be injured.”
If I may take a moment from pretending to be amazed the Journal Gazette of Mattoon doesn't precisely mimic Will Leitch's writing style, I really need to parse that quote. To whit...
1. If Mr. Bess is, as he puts it, always injured, isn't that precisely why there's a question whether he can be a featured back?
2. Get out your [sic]'s, people, because that second sentence is on the syntactical warpath. Even if I look past the split infinitive, which is something I choose to gladly do (META ALERT!!!), there's still the whole "I've just seem" bit, which can be simplified to "I have seem." Ooh boy. That tense construction ain't right.
3. I guess that's it really. I just really don't like bad grammar.
Just think when the Panthers have Florida transfer Chevon Walker to go with him in a couple of weeks.
Yeah, just think! Tell me more, Brian Nielsen!
Still, Eastern shows reasons for concerns.
And...that's the article. That was it. All four or five (depending on how you chop up the quote) sentences of it.
Yes...I think I can see why Leitch might have left. Although I do feel pretty proud of myself for getting through an entire column like that. I'm a regular reading rainbow, I am. Hmm...
See Brian Nielsen’s column in Monday’s JG/T-C.
Sir, you just gained yourself a reader!
Showing posts with label 52 52 52. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 52 52 52. Show all posts
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Sunday, August 31, 2008
52 52 52 Week #28: Indiana
In which I examine crappy local sports journalism on a state-by-state basis, progressing through the states in terms of an alphabetical ordering of the heights of their tallest points. Because I can.
Great. Just great. I finally get home after weeks and weeks of writing this post on the road, and I'm stuck with a cold or something. So here comes another quickie post. Sorry about that.
Continuing Iowa's Hawkeye Point's theme of unbelievably obviously named highpoints, Indiana is proud to present 1257-foot Hoosier Hill. Here are three things I can't imagine it would hurt for you to know:
1. It's on private property, but the owner put a trail
2. Geologically, it's in part of Indiana that's already unusually high, so it's only about thirty or so feet higher than the surrounding countryside.
3. There's concern that a nearby landfill might end up being taller than Hoosier Hill, making a garbage mound the highest point in Indiana. If that doesn't tell you everything you need to know about Indiana, I don't know what will.
Look, I'm sick and I'm tired - not sick and tired, mind you, but still - and so I'm going to have to make this fast. And what better way to do it than to turn to Steve T. Gorches of The Post-Tribune of Northwest Indiana for some hot local bowling commentary?
If you're a sanctioned league bowler, then the season-opening league meeting brings up so many quips and quandaries.
That is so like my life that I don't live. Aw shit, I'm slipping into pseudo-profound bullshit. I'm fading fast here, peeps.
My league's meeting was last week and I learned one thing in particular: expect the unexpected.
That's true for many aspects of life in general, but in bowling it's especially true in league meetings when debate is healthy and reasoning is skewed.
I just love that he says that's true of "many aspects of life in general," just that the truthiness of that statement goes quadruple for bowling league meetings. It's like our entire lives are just some pale reflection of the glory that is a bowling league meeting. Also, I bet the beer tastes better there.
Oh yes, reasoning can be quite skewed, and this deduction doesn't come just from one recent meeting.
Phew. For a moment there I thought he might be working with a non-robust sample size.
Last week's encounter just enhanced my opinion built from years and years of shaking my head in preseason meetings.
Let's talk handicap.
Wait, he realizes him writing his column isn't him addressing a league meeting, right? Right!?
With averages rising over the last 15 years, it's understandable that the old standard of 80 percent of 200 has gone by the wayside. But that doesn't mean we have to keep raising it through the roof at the same rate of averages.
Oh goodness, that's only the first paragraph. Of four. ABOUT FUCKING HANDICAPS. And believe me, this is some scholarly, borderline impenetrable shit.
Then he's got even more to say about how many games before averages kick in, which I didn't even realize was a concept, let alone an issue. Seriously, is this how he communicates with his league? Does his league require all proposed rule changes be first aired in a column in The Post-Tribune? Because I'm having trouble understanding this any other way.
Eh, what the hell. I'm tired. I'm sick. Let's just enjoy some vintage thoughts on bloggers.
Great. Just great. I finally get home after weeks and weeks of writing this post on the road, and I'm stuck with a cold or something. So here comes another quickie post. Sorry about that.
Continuing Iowa's Hawkeye Point's theme of unbelievably obviously named highpoints, Indiana is proud to present 1257-foot Hoosier Hill. Here are three things I can't imagine it would hurt for you to know:
1. It's on private property, but the owner put a trail
2. Geologically, it's in part of Indiana that's already unusually high, so it's only about thirty or so feet higher than the surrounding countryside.
3. There's concern that a nearby landfill might end up being taller than Hoosier Hill, making a garbage mound the highest point in Indiana. If that doesn't tell you everything you need to know about Indiana, I don't know what will.
Look, I'm sick and I'm tired - not sick and tired, mind you, but still - and so I'm going to have to make this fast. And what better way to do it than to turn to Steve T. Gorches of The Post-Tribune of Northwest Indiana for some hot local bowling commentary?
If you're a sanctioned league bowler, then the season-opening league meeting brings up so many quips and quandaries.
That is so like my life that I don't live. Aw shit, I'm slipping into pseudo-profound bullshit. I'm fading fast here, peeps.
My league's meeting was last week and I learned one thing in particular: expect the unexpected.
That's true for many aspects of life in general, but in bowling it's especially true in league meetings when debate is healthy and reasoning is skewed.
I just love that he says that's true of "many aspects of life in general," just that the truthiness of that statement goes quadruple for bowling league meetings. It's like our entire lives are just some pale reflection of the glory that is a bowling league meeting. Also, I bet the beer tastes better there.
Oh yes, reasoning can be quite skewed, and this deduction doesn't come just from one recent meeting.
Phew. For a moment there I thought he might be working with a non-robust sample size.
Last week's encounter just enhanced my opinion built from years and years of shaking my head in preseason meetings.
Let's talk handicap.
Wait, he realizes him writing his column isn't him addressing a league meeting, right? Right!?
With averages rising over the last 15 years, it's understandable that the old standard of 80 percent of 200 has gone by the wayside. But that doesn't mean we have to keep raising it through the roof at the same rate of averages.
Oh goodness, that's only the first paragraph. Of four. ABOUT FUCKING HANDICAPS. And believe me, this is some scholarly, borderline impenetrable shit.
Then he's got even more to say about how many games before averages kick in, which I didn't even realize was a concept, let alone an issue. Seriously, is this how he communicates with his league? Does his league require all proposed rule changes be first aired in a column in The Post-Tribune? Because I'm having trouble understanding this any other way.
Eh, what the hell. I'm tired. I'm sick. Let's just enjoy some vintage thoughts on bloggers.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
52 52 52 Week #27: Iowa
In which I examine crappy local sports journalism on a state-by-state basis, progressing through the states in terms of an alphabetical ordering of the heights of their tallest points. Because I can.
Hey, gang! I'm super-excited to do this week's post, if only because I've rarely come across anything as inspiring as Iowa's 1670-foot Hawkeye Point...
1. It's north of Siblet, Iowa and really near the Minnesota border! Isn't that incredible?
2. It's near a silo! Like with grain or stuff, I guess! Assuming the silo is still in use!
3. According to Wikipedia, the best way to get there is, "Hike(?)"! That question mark spells mystery, gang! Come on, to the Mystery Machine!!!
OK, OK, Hawkeye Point is no great shakes. But The Iowa City Press-Citizen is happy to provide a compendium of awesomely meaningless quotes regarding everybody's favorite thing: University of Iowa field hockey. Your humble compiler is Ryan Suchomel. Let's do it, folks!
When thinking about national title contenders and the University of Iowa, most people think about singlets first, not skirts.
I had to look up what "singlet" meant. Turns out it's that skintight wrestling leotard thing. I count it as a rare point in favor of my masculinity that I had no idea what that was.
But the Iowa field hockey team has all but one starter back from last season when they went 17-4 and finished ranked fifth in the nation.
"We have a lot of dreams," senior Lauren Pfeiffer said.
Like, this one time, Melissa Helsel totally dreamed she forgot to study for an exam, and another time Caitlin McCurdy had that one dream where she was falling, and another time Amy Baxter dreamed Christian Bale had finally come to take her away, but first he had to fight a dragon with Jude Law's head for some reason. Needless to say, dragon with the head of Jude Law breathed smug Britishness. Fiery, fiery smug Britishness. Basically, this team is a Jungian wet dream, which in turn was a dream...eh, never mind.
"I do think we can be there at the end of the season," Iowa coach Tracey Griesbaum said. "They felt they made a mark last year, but they want to make it in permanent ink marker and not pencil."
What about one of those washable markers? I mean, as long as you don't, you know, wash it, you should be fine. Also, ballpoint? Would that work? Because I've got a shitload of spare Bics lying around somewhere.
In addition, senior Caroline Blaum was an all-Big Ten pick.
"I am really, really excited. Period. Flat out," Blaum said.
I always appreciated when people punctuate their sentences for you! Oh, um...EXCLAMATION POINT! It removes so much ambiguity, doesn't it? Rhetorical question mark?
"I think we have a great team. On paper, it doesn't take a field hockey professional to realize what we have."
Well, I'm not a field hockey professional, but I'd definitely say you have a field hockey team. Yeah, definitely.
And what do I have? Another completed blog post. Oh, OK, fine, have a YouTube clip on the house. Hell, I'll even make up for last week's Reagan-baiting. Or, at least, that's what I'll claim to Djmmm. Don't tell him of my subtle subterfuge!
Move over, Muppets and Michael Caine, you guys are about to get your Dickensian shit owned. Speaking of which, is there anything better than interviews with Muppets?
No, there isn't.
Hey, gang! I'm super-excited to do this week's post, if only because I've rarely come across anything as inspiring as Iowa's 1670-foot Hawkeye Point...
1. It's north of Siblet, Iowa and really near the Minnesota border! Isn't that incredible?
2. It's near a silo! Like with grain or stuff, I guess! Assuming the silo is still in use!
3. According to Wikipedia, the best way to get there is, "Hike(?)"! That question mark spells mystery, gang! Come on, to the Mystery Machine!!!
OK, OK, Hawkeye Point is no great shakes. But The Iowa City Press-Citizen is happy to provide a compendium of awesomely meaningless quotes regarding everybody's favorite thing: University of Iowa field hockey. Your humble compiler is Ryan Suchomel. Let's do it, folks!
When thinking about national title contenders and the University of Iowa, most people think about singlets first, not skirts.
I had to look up what "singlet" meant. Turns out it's that skintight wrestling leotard thing. I count it as a rare point in favor of my masculinity that I had no idea what that was.
But the Iowa field hockey team has all but one starter back from last season when they went 17-4 and finished ranked fifth in the nation.
"We have a lot of dreams," senior Lauren Pfeiffer said.
Like, this one time, Melissa Helsel totally dreamed she forgot to study for an exam, and another time Caitlin McCurdy had that one dream where she was falling, and another time Amy Baxter dreamed Christian Bale had finally come to take her away, but first he had to fight a dragon with Jude Law's head for some reason. Needless to say, dragon with the head of Jude Law breathed smug Britishness. Fiery, fiery smug Britishness. Basically, this team is a Jungian wet dream, which in turn was a dream...eh, never mind.
"I do think we can be there at the end of the season," Iowa coach Tracey Griesbaum said. "They felt they made a mark last year, but they want to make it in permanent ink marker and not pencil."
What about one of those washable markers? I mean, as long as you don't, you know, wash it, you should be fine. Also, ballpoint? Would that work? Because I've got a shitload of spare Bics lying around somewhere.
In addition, senior Caroline Blaum was an all-Big Ten pick.
"I am really, really excited. Period. Flat out," Blaum said.
I always appreciated when people punctuate their sentences for you! Oh, um...EXCLAMATION POINT! It removes so much ambiguity, doesn't it? Rhetorical question mark?
"I think we have a great team. On paper, it doesn't take a field hockey professional to realize what we have."
Well, I'm not a field hockey professional, but I'd definitely say you have a field hockey team. Yeah, definitely.
And what do I have? Another completed blog post. Oh, OK, fine, have a YouTube clip on the house. Hell, I'll even make up for last week's Reagan-baiting. Or, at least, that's what I'll claim to Djmmm. Don't tell him of my subtle subterfuge!
Move over, Muppets and Michael Caine, you guys are about to get your Dickensian shit owned. Speaking of which, is there anything better than interviews with Muppets?
No, there isn't.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
52 52 52 Week #26: Missouri
In which I examine crappy local sports journalism on a state-by-state basis, progressing through the states in terms of an alphabetical ordering of the heights of their tallest points. Because I can.
So this is, I think, the fifth straight week I'm writing this damn post away from home. Sure, I'm no longer in Central America, and I've got my own computer back at last, but hey...there's a reason why I'm not posting all that much lately. I'm just sort of a globetrotter. And, by that, I mean I'm in Florida right now. It's almost the same thing. Well, it's not completely an utterly different thing. Let's move on.
Because I made an executive decision that I'm not nerdy enough, I just finished rereading The Hobbit and am about to embark on The Lord of the Rings books. If nothing else, it'll give me so much more subtext as I get lost in Viggo Mortensen's eyes. It also has made me find Missouri's highpoint, the 1772-foot Taum Sauk Mountain, rather appropriately named. Sure, it's not the Misty or Lonely Mountain(s), but Taum Sauk Mountain just screams Tolkien. Maybe. Look, I've spent the last two days in a car. Work with me here as I give you the Taum Sauk report...
1. Its topography "is that of a somewhat flat ridge rather than a peak." You know, sometimes I just know I'm working with an interesting one. And sometimes the first fact is about how its topography isn't really mountainous. But hold on...
2. "While not as impressive at 1,772 feet (540 m) as other peaks, Taum Sauk and the St. Francois range are true mountains, being the result of a volcanic orogeny." Volcanic orogeny? If that doesn't sound deliciously dirty, you've probably got moral fiber or something. Whatever you've got, I'm missing it.
3. Some of you (read: none of you) may have heard of the Taum Sauk Pumped Storage Plant, which failed in 2005 and caused a flash flood. Well, don't blame Taum Sauk Mountain, as the plant "is not actually on Taum Sauk Mountain. It is on Proffit Mountain, about five miles (8 km) southwest." I feel like there's a deliciously anti-corporate pun I can make out of "Proffit Mountain", but I can't quite get there.
I'm trying really hard to not try very hard tonight. I think my plan is working. To the article!
Our newspaper today is The Joplin Globe, which has to be a solid contender for worst Wikipedia page in existence. I was going to do a, well, better newspaper this week, but the awesome shittiness of the Wikipedia page won me over. And then when I thought even so I should probably find a proper sports section, this headline showed me I had been right all along...
If I had caught any fish this past week ...
There's an art to the building of suspense, to quote Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead, and that headline just motherfucking built it. Larry Dabelmont, the floor is unimpeachably yours...
I don’t want to make anyone real awful mad here
You couldn't if you wanted to, old friend. You don't think he minds if I call him old friend, right? He just seems so lovably folksy and homespun!
but I can’t tell you the name of one politician running for anything that I would want to go fishing with.
I'm pretty sure that, if you diagram that sentence out, he's saying he wouldn't want to go fishing with, say, the office of the attorney general or somesuch. But hey, what's a little linguistic anarchy among such good, down-home-on-the-ol-fishin-hole friends? The missing "d" and "g" mean it's extra country-like!
The whole bunch of them seems a sorry lot to me.
Do you mean politically, or fishing-wise? Because I'm definitely on board with the latter, and quite possibly the former.
The ones who have won and the ones who didn’t win, I put them all in the same sack.
I'm pretty sure fish win by not getting put in your sack. Oh, wait, you're talking about politicians! What's that about them and your sack? I'm not sure I approve of such talk from a country gentleman...
But then, what do I know about politics? If I had caught any fish this past week I’d be writing about that.
Oh, so that was the resolution to the cliffhanger of what "if I had caught any fish this past week" would entail. That was...um...worth the wait. Yeah...totally. Oh, and while we're here, go see Tropic Thunder, please. It apparently needs all the help it can get, which is sort of a shame, because it's, you know, awesome. OK, OK, back to Larry.
I once shook Harry Truman’s hand, and I have to admit that I was impressed with him, even though I was only about six at the time.
Truman lived from 1884 to 1972 (I almost didn't have to look that up, though I was out by a decade on his year of birth), so that means Mr. Dabelmont could be anywhere from 42 to 130. Who wants to bet his age is closer to the latter than the former? (I'm suggesting he's OLD!!! Isn't that, like, hilarious? Come on, don't make me start randomly swearing in the name of fucking comedy.)
I also liked Ronald Reagan a lot. I can’t remember much about his presidency,
OK, what I'd like to make here is a joke mocking Ronald Reagan on the grounds that he was incompetent and openly slept through a shitload of his two terms. The joke I'd like to make is "That's OK. Neither did Reagan." Unfortunately for both him and the purposes of my joke, the illness that affected Mr. Reagan later in his life renders that joke a bit tasteless. Dammit reality, always cramping my comedy buzz.
Also, I'm fairly sure any Reagan-bashing might result in Djmmm hunting me down and killing me Ollie North style. Best just to move on.
But I really liked Ronald Reagan in those Western movies he made after he got out of politics.
That...that was awesome. That's the kind of so obviously dumb he's a genius - albeit a batshit crazy genius - sort of shit that just makes me fall in love with sports journalism all over again. I'm primed, Dabelmont, hit me again!
I have read some things about Teddy Roosevelt that makes me think he was a lot like me, since he liked to hunt and fish so much and float rivers, and did some outdoor writing. He and I looked very much alike too.
OK, that was more "3rd grader writing about his incarcerated father" than satirically folksy sports journalist, but I'm willing to try it again.
But of course my favorite president will always be Abe Lincoln, who had two things no president or even presidential candidate will ever have again. He was poor, and he was honest.
Andrew Johnson was actually poorer than Lincoln - I believe Johnson is the only president most historians consider to be "born poor" - and even Richard Nixon came from a relatively poor background. Admittedly, that last one doesn't really help on the honesty front. Um, how is this about sports again?
Earlier in my life I too was poor and honest, and as a matter of fact I am still relatively poor, and I am being honest about that.
You're starting to lose me, Dabelmont. Also, I'm having a real hard time keeping the consonants in your last name in the correct order. Any chance you could do something about that?
My favorite politician was Davy Crockett. He and I were so much alike that it is just amazing, except for the fact that he did get into politics, becoming a Tennessee congressman. My cousins and I watched him on Walt Disney when we were kids
OK, time for a vote. Who here is honestly uncertain Larry understands the Disney show he watched wasn't a documentary about Davy Crockett, but instead a highly fictionalized adventure show? Yeah, me neither.
Crockett was loved by his constituents, just as I am loved by my readers, except for a few ladies who got mad about that recent article concerning female bass.
You know what? There's no way I'm topping that. You win, Dabelmont. Be sure to savor your victory, which I can only assume involves doing unspeakable things to female bass.
So this is, I think, the fifth straight week I'm writing this damn post away from home. Sure, I'm no longer in Central America, and I've got my own computer back at last, but hey...there's a reason why I'm not posting all that much lately. I'm just sort of a globetrotter. And, by that, I mean I'm in Florida right now. It's almost the same thing. Well, it's not completely an utterly different thing. Let's move on.
Because I made an executive decision that I'm not nerdy enough, I just finished rereading The Hobbit and am about to embark on The Lord of the Rings books. If nothing else, it'll give me so much more subtext as I get lost in Viggo Mortensen's eyes. It also has made me find Missouri's highpoint, the 1772-foot Taum Sauk Mountain, rather appropriately named. Sure, it's not the Misty or Lonely Mountain(s), but Taum Sauk Mountain just screams Tolkien. Maybe. Look, I've spent the last two days in a car. Work with me here as I give you the Taum Sauk report...
1. Its topography "is that of a somewhat flat ridge rather than a peak." You know, sometimes I just know I'm working with an interesting one. And sometimes the first fact is about how its topography isn't really mountainous. But hold on...
2. "While not as impressive at 1,772 feet (540 m) as other peaks, Taum Sauk and the St. Francois range are true mountains, being the result of a volcanic orogeny." Volcanic orogeny? If that doesn't sound deliciously dirty, you've probably got moral fiber or something. Whatever you've got, I'm missing it.
3. Some of you (read: none of you) may have heard of the Taum Sauk Pumped Storage Plant, which failed in 2005 and caused a flash flood. Well, don't blame Taum Sauk Mountain, as the plant "is not actually on Taum Sauk Mountain. It is on Proffit Mountain, about five miles (8 km) southwest." I feel like there's a deliciously anti-corporate pun I can make out of "Proffit Mountain", but I can't quite get there.
I'm trying really hard to not try very hard tonight. I think my plan is working. To the article!
Our newspaper today is The Joplin Globe, which has to be a solid contender for worst Wikipedia page in existence. I was going to do a, well, better newspaper this week, but the awesome shittiness of the Wikipedia page won me over. And then when I thought even so I should probably find a proper sports section, this headline showed me I had been right all along...
If I had caught any fish this past week ...
There's an art to the building of suspense, to quote Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead, and that headline just motherfucking built it. Larry Dabelmont, the floor is unimpeachably yours...
I don’t want to make anyone real awful mad here
You couldn't if you wanted to, old friend. You don't think he minds if I call him old friend, right? He just seems so lovably folksy and homespun!
but I can’t tell you the name of one politician running for anything that I would want to go fishing with.
I'm pretty sure that, if you diagram that sentence out, he's saying he wouldn't want to go fishing with, say, the office of the attorney general or somesuch. But hey, what's a little linguistic anarchy among such good, down-home-on-the-ol-fishin-hole friends? The missing "d" and "g" mean it's extra country-like!
The whole bunch of them seems a sorry lot to me.
Do you mean politically, or fishing-wise? Because I'm definitely on board with the latter, and quite possibly the former.
The ones who have won and the ones who didn’t win, I put them all in the same sack.
I'm pretty sure fish win by not getting put in your sack. Oh, wait, you're talking about politicians! What's that about them and your sack? I'm not sure I approve of such talk from a country gentleman...
But then, what do I know about politics? If I had caught any fish this past week I’d be writing about that.
Oh, so that was the resolution to the cliffhanger of what "if I had caught any fish this past week" would entail. That was...um...worth the wait. Yeah...totally. Oh, and while we're here, go see Tropic Thunder, please. It apparently needs all the help it can get, which is sort of a shame, because it's, you know, awesome. OK, OK, back to Larry.
I once shook Harry Truman’s hand, and I have to admit that I was impressed with him, even though I was only about six at the time.
Truman lived from 1884 to 1972 (I almost didn't have to look that up, though I was out by a decade on his year of birth), so that means Mr. Dabelmont could be anywhere from 42 to 130. Who wants to bet his age is closer to the latter than the former? (I'm suggesting he's OLD!!! Isn't that, like, hilarious? Come on, don't make me start randomly swearing in the name of fucking comedy.)
I also liked Ronald Reagan a lot. I can’t remember much about his presidency,
OK, what I'd like to make here is a joke mocking Ronald Reagan on the grounds that he was incompetent and openly slept through a shitload of his two terms. The joke I'd like to make is "That's OK. Neither did Reagan." Unfortunately for both him and the purposes of my joke, the illness that affected Mr. Reagan later in his life renders that joke a bit tasteless. Dammit reality, always cramping my comedy buzz.
Also, I'm fairly sure any Reagan-bashing might result in Djmmm hunting me down and killing me Ollie North style. Best just to move on.
But I really liked Ronald Reagan in those Western movies he made after he got out of politics.
That...that was awesome. That's the kind of so obviously dumb he's a genius - albeit a batshit crazy genius - sort of shit that just makes me fall in love with sports journalism all over again. I'm primed, Dabelmont, hit me again!
I have read some things about Teddy Roosevelt that makes me think he was a lot like me, since he liked to hunt and fish so much and float rivers, and did some outdoor writing. He and I looked very much alike too.
OK, that was more "3rd grader writing about his incarcerated father" than satirically folksy sports journalist, but I'm willing to try it again.
But of course my favorite president will always be Abe Lincoln, who had two things no president or even presidential candidate will ever have again. He was poor, and he was honest.
Andrew Johnson was actually poorer than Lincoln - I believe Johnson is the only president most historians consider to be "born poor" - and even Richard Nixon came from a relatively poor background. Admittedly, that last one doesn't really help on the honesty front. Um, how is this about sports again?
Earlier in my life I too was poor and honest, and as a matter of fact I am still relatively poor, and I am being honest about that.
You're starting to lose me, Dabelmont. Also, I'm having a real hard time keeping the consonants in your last name in the correct order. Any chance you could do something about that?
My favorite politician was Davy Crockett. He and I were so much alike that it is just amazing, except for the fact that he did get into politics, becoming a Tennessee congressman. My cousins and I watched him on Walt Disney when we were kids
OK, time for a vote. Who here is honestly uncertain Larry understands the Disney show he watched wasn't a documentary about Davy Crockett, but instead a highly fictionalized adventure show? Yeah, me neither.
Crockett was loved by his constituents, just as I am loved by my readers, except for a few ladies who got mad about that recent article concerning female bass.
You know what? There's no way I'm topping that. You win, Dabelmont. Be sure to savor your victory, which I can only assume involves doing unspeakable things to female bass.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
52 52 52 Week #25: Michigan
In which I examine crappy local sports journalism on a state-by-state basis, progressing through the states in terms of an alphabetical ordering of the heights of their tallest points. Because I can.
Wow. Somehow, some way, I am halfway through this little experiment. No, I'm not sure either, particularly since the last few posts have been written using a combinationof Macs and Spanish-language keyboards, which are just different enough to slow me down something fierce (and why some of my previous posts have diacritics where apostrophes should be). But hey, I'm here, and I might as well keep it going a little longer. Especially when we've got Michigan on tap. 1979-foot Mount Arvon, what have you got tosay for yourself?
1. It only recently became the highpoint of Michigan. For the longest time, people thought nearby Mount Curwood was the tallest. But no, a resurvey in the early eighties discovered Mount Arvon was an entire foot taller. That may have been the most exciting thing that happened to that survey team. I'm not even kidding.
2. It's named after slate. Well, specifically the slate found in Carnarvon, Wales. Aren't you glad you now know that?
3. The land is owned by a paper company. Isn't that just hilariously mundane?
Good stuff. I don't know how many of my readers have tried to guess the sorts of ultra-sophisticated metrics I employ to determine which newspaper I'm going with, but I'll give you one huge hint: if your newspaper is the newspaper of record for the town of Bad Axe, Michigan, you're probably getting chosen. Seriously, Bad Axe? I just hope I live long enough to find a reason to move to a town with a name that awesome. Holy shit, man, just...holy shit. If only the newspaper was called The Bad Axe Blade, I'm pretty sure I could just go ahead and die a happy man. Oh well. The town's name is still plenty more than enough.
So yeah, The Huron Daily Tribune is your newspaper, Paul P. Adams is your writer, and EVERYTHING EVER IN THE HISTORY OF FOREVER is your topic. Enjoy!
These are just a few of my thoughts on what has transpired at the state and national levels in sports during the past week.
Oh yeah. Let's do this shit.
...Michigan football officially hit the field with new coach Rich Rodriguez and all the baggage he brought with him from West Virginia.
Baggage aside, Rodriguez is a proven winner who has turned around every program he’s been at.
Care to give some context, some analysis of his previous work? If my Internet were any faster (seriously, it's balls molasses slow right now), I'd look it up myself, but I bet there are some interesting comparisons and contrasts one could come up with if you actually talked about his previous work. Nah, not going to do that? Well, OK...
The Wolverines aren’t in need of a complete overhaul, but they could use some tweaking — and that starts with the offense.
With Rodriguez calling the plays, Michigan fans will see something they’ve never seen before — a wide-open spread offense.
Couldn't I get this from, I don't know, a U of M media guide? Is there content here that I'm just missing? Has Central America driven me stir crazy? Sorry...I mean stir loco.
The transition may take a year or two as Rodriguez recruits the right players for his system.
That transition could lead to a less than stellar year for the Wolverines, who open the season ranked No. 24. They probably won’t contend for the Big Ten title, but should make a bowl game.
So almost exactly like last year, just with more realistic expectations going in? Seriously, preseason No. 5 my ass.
Also working against the team and Rodriguez is inexperience as only two starters return on offense and four on defense.
It’s going to take time, but when things begin to click, Michigan fans will be thankful for the hiring of Rich Rodriguez.
I feel like somebody held in total isolation in a cave somewhere could generate this level of bland platitude. That's right, people - this is Joe Morgan territory. Admittedly, Paul P. Adams isn't a national anything, so I should probably be less pissed. But then this happens...
He will return the program to national prominence, it just won’t happen this year.
That's bad grammar, people! That's like a run-on or some shit! And you know how I feel about people who use bad grammar? Well, I hired a surrogate to emote for me...
New topic!
...Mark it down, the Tigers are officially done!
Since trading Ivan Rodriguez for Kyle Farnsworth and his gas can, Detroit is just 1-6 and now sits 8 1/2 games in back of the White Sox in the division.
Man, I bet Kyle Farnsworth is totally to blame!
That’s not to say Farnsworth is totally to blame, but he hasn’t helped.
Yeah, but how much can he help, really? Dude's a relief pitcher. Those guys rank barely above the equipment manager in terms of impact. Well, mostly.
He debuted on Saturday and worked a scoreless inning, but on Sunday, in a pressure situation, he melted down, giving up three runs in a game the Tigers should have won.
So he pitched really well once and really poorly another time? Why, he sounds like...an average relief pitcher. He's not swinging anybody's playoff hopes. Neither was an over-the-hill catcher like Pudge, of course.
A colleague of mine told me on Friday the Tigers were going to get swept by the Rays in a weekend series.
Come Monday, he was right, and with it all hope of making the playoffs might have vanished.
Your colleague accurately predicted one of the three best teams in baseball would beat a below-average team three times in a row? Is your colleague *HUSHED TONES* Nostradamus?
The team answered back by blowing a big lead in the opening game of a critical contest with the White Sox on Tuesday.
Jim Leyland has been threatening to shake things up, but it’s too little, too late.
The Tigers will make a mini-run here and there, but they’re just not good enough to track down the Twins or White Sox.
Yes. That is in all probability accurate.
The rest is more on Brett Favre, which I'll spare you out of kindness, an obit for Skip Caray that I'll leave alone, and a bit on the Panthers suspending Steve Smith that features this as a complete fucking paragraph:
Smith actually busting Lucas’ nose.
That...I just don't have any words for that.
Wow. Somehow, some way, I am halfway through this little experiment. No, I'm not sure either, particularly since the last few posts have been written using a combinationof Macs and Spanish-language keyboards, which are just different enough to slow me down something fierce (and why some of my previous posts have diacritics where apostrophes should be). But hey, I'm here, and I might as well keep it going a little longer. Especially when we've got Michigan on tap. 1979-foot Mount Arvon, what have you got tosay for yourself?
1. It only recently became the highpoint of Michigan. For the longest time, people thought nearby Mount Curwood was the tallest. But no, a resurvey in the early eighties discovered Mount Arvon was an entire foot taller. That may have been the most exciting thing that happened to that survey team. I'm not even kidding.
2. It's named after slate. Well, specifically the slate found in Carnarvon, Wales. Aren't you glad you now know that?
3. The land is owned by a paper company. Isn't that just hilariously mundane?
Good stuff. I don't know how many of my readers have tried to guess the sorts of ultra-sophisticated metrics I employ to determine which newspaper I'm going with, but I'll give you one huge hint: if your newspaper is the newspaper of record for the town of Bad Axe, Michigan, you're probably getting chosen. Seriously, Bad Axe? I just hope I live long enough to find a reason to move to a town with a name that awesome. Holy shit, man, just...holy shit. If only the newspaper was called The Bad Axe Blade, I'm pretty sure I could just go ahead and die a happy man. Oh well. The town's name is still plenty more than enough.
So yeah, The Huron Daily Tribune is your newspaper, Paul P. Adams is your writer, and EVERYTHING EVER IN THE HISTORY OF FOREVER is your topic. Enjoy!
These are just a few of my thoughts on what has transpired at the state and national levels in sports during the past week.
Oh yeah. Let's do this shit.
...Michigan football officially hit the field with new coach Rich Rodriguez and all the baggage he brought with him from West Virginia.
Baggage aside, Rodriguez is a proven winner who has turned around every program he’s been at.
Care to give some context, some analysis of his previous work? If my Internet were any faster (seriously, it's balls molasses slow right now), I'd look it up myself, but I bet there are some interesting comparisons and contrasts one could come up with if you actually talked about his previous work. Nah, not going to do that? Well, OK...
The Wolverines aren’t in need of a complete overhaul, but they could use some tweaking — and that starts with the offense.
With Rodriguez calling the plays, Michigan fans will see something they’ve never seen before — a wide-open spread offense.
Couldn't I get this from, I don't know, a U of M media guide? Is there content here that I'm just missing? Has Central America driven me stir crazy? Sorry...I mean stir loco.
The transition may take a year or two as Rodriguez recruits the right players for his system.
That transition could lead to a less than stellar year for the Wolverines, who open the season ranked No. 24. They probably won’t contend for the Big Ten title, but should make a bowl game.
So almost exactly like last year, just with more realistic expectations going in? Seriously, preseason No. 5 my ass.
Also working against the team and Rodriguez is inexperience as only two starters return on offense and four on defense.
It’s going to take time, but when things begin to click, Michigan fans will be thankful for the hiring of Rich Rodriguez.
I feel like somebody held in total isolation in a cave somewhere could generate this level of bland platitude. That's right, people - this is Joe Morgan territory. Admittedly, Paul P. Adams isn't a national anything, so I should probably be less pissed. But then this happens...
He will return the program to national prominence, it just won’t happen this year.
That's bad grammar, people! That's like a run-on or some shit! And you know how I feel about people who use bad grammar? Well, I hired a surrogate to emote for me...
New topic!
...Mark it down, the Tigers are officially done!
Since trading Ivan Rodriguez for Kyle Farnsworth and his gas can, Detroit is just 1-6 and now sits 8 1/2 games in back of the White Sox in the division.
Man, I bet Kyle Farnsworth is totally to blame!
That’s not to say Farnsworth is totally to blame, but he hasn’t helped.
Yeah, but how much can he help, really? Dude's a relief pitcher. Those guys rank barely above the equipment manager in terms of impact. Well, mostly.
He debuted on Saturday and worked a scoreless inning, but on Sunday, in a pressure situation, he melted down, giving up three runs in a game the Tigers should have won.
So he pitched really well once and really poorly another time? Why, he sounds like...an average relief pitcher. He's not swinging anybody's playoff hopes. Neither was an over-the-hill catcher like Pudge, of course.
A colleague of mine told me on Friday the Tigers were going to get swept by the Rays in a weekend series.
Come Monday, he was right, and with it all hope of making the playoffs might have vanished.
Your colleague accurately predicted one of the three best teams in baseball would beat a below-average team three times in a row? Is your colleague *HUSHED TONES* Nostradamus?
The team answered back by blowing a big lead in the opening game of a critical contest with the White Sox on Tuesday.
Jim Leyland has been threatening to shake things up, but it’s too little, too late.
The Tigers will make a mini-run here and there, but they’re just not good enough to track down the Twins or White Sox.
Yes. That is in all probability accurate.
The rest is more on Brett Favre, which I'll spare you out of kindness, an obit for Skip Caray that I'll leave alone, and a bit on the Panthers suspending Steve Smith that features this as a complete fucking paragraph:
Smith actually busting Lucas’ nose.
That...I just don't have any words for that.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
52 52 52 Week #24: Wisconsin
In which I examine crappy local sports journalism on a state-by-state basis, progressing through the states in terms of an alphabetical ordering of the heights of their tallest points. Because I can.
I find myself in a Central American internet cafe, using a weird computer with half the keys in the wrong position. Yeah...this post is going to be fun.
This week we’ve got Wisconsin and its 1951-foot tall highpoint, Timms Hill. You know, I’ve gone skiing in Wisconsin. It’s fucking depressing that I didn’t even go as high as Timms fucking Hill. Oh well, know these three things and be merry...
1. It’s got a lookout tower.
2. It’s less than a mile from Highway 86. No, seriously, that’s how fine I’ve got to cut these facts up to get to three. Timms Hill is not interesting. At all.
3. Wait, here’s something interesting: "Originally, Rib Mountain was thought to be the highest point in Wisconsin. However, this was later proved to be incorrect." But however did they manage that? The suspense (or possibly the boredom) is killing me! "While Timms Hill has the highest elevation in the state, Rib Mountain has the largest height differential from the surrounding landscape." Nope, sorry, the fork’s already in my eye.
I thought I might try something a little different by, for the first time in 52 52 52’s surprisingly long-ish history, revisiting an old friend. That’s right, it’s Jeff Sherman from On Milwaukee, who we met way back in this post. So all his diehard fans who keep emailing me for his return can finally shut up. I never thought it’d happen. Anyway, Jeff, your topic is something or other. Take it away.
The latest in Milwaukee's ever-changing restaurant news is that Yanni's Steaks, Chops and Seafood, 540 E. Mason St., has closed, though this rumor has been floated constantly since I wrote about it last September.
Huh...that’s an...odd...thing for a sportswriter to discuss. Although good job on the background research. I like it.
The rumor appears true this time, as numerous calls have not been returned and today the voicemail at the Downtown dining destination is full.
But how can you know for sure? Shouldn’t somebody go there and, like, peek in the windows or something?
Peeks into the windows of the once highly rated restaurant both last night and this morning make it, indeed, appear closed.
Jeff Sherman is officially owning my ass. I am surprisingly OK with this. Still, where’s the sports?
Several area workers and business owners also have said it's closed. The Web design company that Yanni's used couldn't confirm the closing, but Yannismilwaukee.com remains live although its opentable link is down.
I think we all remember that nugget of restauranteur wisdom: "As goes your opentable link, so goes your restaurant." And, with it, the nation. Or so I’ve heard.
That's not official word, but don't bank on Yanni's for lunch or dinner since the doors are locked and voice mail is unattended.
You know, I’ve never even heard of this place until right this second, but I’m still weeping a little bit. Or maybe that’s because it’s been three fucking weeks and I still haven’t seen The Dark Knight. Oh, the pain!
Just this week, most locations of the national restaurant chains of Bennigan's and Steak & Ale abruptly closed and filed for bankruptcy. It's rumored (again, there are always rumors) that a few other Milwaukee area restaurants plan to close their doors in the coming weeks.
I never thought I’d ever say this, but...Wisconsinites need to start eating more. How else will we preserve all those good Bennigan’s franchises?
Got news or buzz about the Milwaukee area dining scene? Use the OnMilwaukee.com Talkbacks.
You know, I get the sense that maybe this dude doesn’t write about sports. Maybe, and this is just a theory, his primary focus is the Milwaukee dining scene and he, you know, just happened to one time write about something sports-related.
Still, aren’t you just glad I managed an entire Wisconsin-sports-related post and didn’t once mention Brett fucking Favre? You’re welcome.
I find myself in a Central American internet cafe, using a weird computer with half the keys in the wrong position. Yeah...this post is going to be fun.
This week we’ve got Wisconsin and its 1951-foot tall highpoint, Timms Hill. You know, I’ve gone skiing in Wisconsin. It’s fucking depressing that I didn’t even go as high as Timms fucking Hill. Oh well, know these three things and be merry...
1. It’s got a lookout tower.
2. It’s less than a mile from Highway 86. No, seriously, that’s how fine I’ve got to cut these facts up to get to three. Timms Hill is not interesting. At all.
3. Wait, here’s something interesting: "Originally, Rib Mountain was thought to be the highest point in Wisconsin. However, this was later proved to be incorrect." But however did they manage that? The suspense (or possibly the boredom) is killing me! "While Timms Hill has the highest elevation in the state, Rib Mountain has the largest height differential from the surrounding landscape." Nope, sorry, the fork’s already in my eye.
I thought I might try something a little different by, for the first time in 52 52 52’s surprisingly long-ish history, revisiting an old friend. That’s right, it’s Jeff Sherman from On Milwaukee, who we met way back in this post. So all his diehard fans who keep emailing me for his return can finally shut up. I never thought it’d happen. Anyway, Jeff, your topic is something or other. Take it away.
The latest in Milwaukee's ever-changing restaurant news is that Yanni's Steaks, Chops and Seafood, 540 E. Mason St., has closed, though this rumor has been floated constantly since I wrote about it last September.
Huh...that’s an...odd...thing for a sportswriter to discuss. Although good job on the background research. I like it.
The rumor appears true this time, as numerous calls have not been returned and today the voicemail at the Downtown dining destination is full.
But how can you know for sure? Shouldn’t somebody go there and, like, peek in the windows or something?
Peeks into the windows of the once highly rated restaurant both last night and this morning make it, indeed, appear closed.
Jeff Sherman is officially owning my ass. I am surprisingly OK with this. Still, where’s the sports?
Several area workers and business owners also have said it's closed. The Web design company that Yanni's used couldn't confirm the closing, but Yannismilwaukee.com remains live although its opentable link is down.
I think we all remember that nugget of restauranteur wisdom: "As goes your opentable link, so goes your restaurant." And, with it, the nation. Or so I’ve heard.
That's not official word, but don't bank on Yanni's for lunch or dinner since the doors are locked and voice mail is unattended.
You know, I’ve never even heard of this place until right this second, but I’m still weeping a little bit. Or maybe that’s because it’s been three fucking weeks and I still haven’t seen The Dark Knight. Oh, the pain!
Just this week, most locations of the national restaurant chains of Bennigan's and Steak & Ale abruptly closed and filed for bankruptcy. It's rumored (again, there are always rumors) that a few other Milwaukee area restaurants plan to close their doors in the coming weeks.
I never thought I’d ever say this, but...Wisconsinites need to start eating more. How else will we preserve all those good Bennigan’s franchises?
Got news or buzz about the Milwaukee area dining scene? Use the OnMilwaukee.com Talkbacks.
You know, I get the sense that maybe this dude doesn’t write about sports. Maybe, and this is just a theory, his primary focus is the Milwaukee dining scene and he, you know, just happened to one time write about something sports-related.
Still, aren’t you just glad I managed an entire Wisconsin-sports-related post and didn’t once mention Brett fucking Favre? You’re welcome.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
52 52 52 Week #23: Ohio
In which I examine crappy local sports journalism on a state-by-state basis, progressing through the states in terms of an alphabetical ordering of the heights of their tallest points. Because I can.
Well, I'm still in Central America, my computer died (I mean completely and utterly) earlier this week, and we didn't have running water for most of this week. On the plus side, I got to wield an honest-to-goodness machete. That more than makes up for it.
So, with my computer dead and gone, comes the first ever 52 52 52 written on a Mac. I have no idea whether or not it'll be the last, but if you detect slightly more self-loathing in this post than usual (hard to notice, I admit), that'd be why.
But first, something awesome...
Ah, holy shit. Do I really have to do the rest of the post? I mean, it's only Ohio, right? And unless Matt Sussman still reads (and I think it's pretty clear that he does by all the comments he doesn't leave), I'm somehow doubting anyone will care. Seriously, what's Ohio got? A couple halls of fame and a kickass amusement park? Actually, that reminds me...
Oh yeah, I've ridden that bad boy. I've also wielded a machete. All from the safety and security of my mother's basement, of course.
In any event, Ohio makes the list this week thanks to its 1550-feet high Campbell Hill. Three things potentially worth knowing...
1. It was "the former home of the Bellefontaine Air Force Station, where the 664th Aircraft Control and Warning Squadron maintained a Cold War early warning radar." Hey, as long as it helped beat the commies, I'm on board with whatever.
2. Apparently the hard rock of Campbell Hill helped it resist the glaciers during the ice age. Must have been commie glaciers.
3. The land used to be owned by the brewer of Augustiner and Gambrinus beers. I don't have much to add here, but those are some fucking awesome brand names.
Speaking of fucking awesome (this post is just full of the stuff, even if I'm just compiling it for you nice people), this week's newspaper is The Toledo Blade. You might remember I tried to do an article from The Washington Blade, but sadly the gay newspaper of record for our nation's capital had no sports section. The Toledo Blade, however, is not only awesomely named after the swordsmithing industry of Toledo, Spain, but it also has a sports section. And that's more than enough for me to do a quickie article and throw in some clips from the Blade movies. You're welcome.
Today's article has the headline, "Bucks expect expectations." A headline that asinine just has to be worth making fun of. Matt Markey?
The specter is everywhere.
And thus a pulpy fifties detective novel began.
You are reminded of it by the girl from Circleville who sits behind you in sociology class, then by the guy in the produce aisle at Krogers, and again at the family reunion, and when you meet with a couple former players who stopped by campus to visit.
Booooring. Time for a Blade clip.
I'd like to see the girl from Circleville remind you of that.
And even here, surrounded by the swirl of humanity in the heart of downtown in the Windy City, just beyond the shadow of the Sears Tower and a short walk from Navy Pier or the Chicago Mercantile Exchange, you can't elude the aura of Ohio State football.
And to think I used to like Chicago...
Sorry! U of M fandom rearing its head here a bit. I'll try harder.
"It is all around you, and it is everywhere," Buckeyes linebacker James Laurinaitis said yesterday morning as the Big Ten wrapped up its two days of preseason meetings that signal the informal start of the 2008 college football season.
"It is all around you, and it is everywhere"? That may be the most profound-sounding-and-yet-utterly-not-profound thing I've ever heard. And I've heard Martin Heidegger.
Philosophy BURN!!!
"Ohio State football has such a position of prominence in the minds of so many people. But with all of that history and tradition come the constant expectations, and you quickly learn to accept it and really embrace it. You gotta love a place where every year, you are expected to be great."
Its position of prominence? Woefully underrated team that gets blown out when it actually counts. (Admittedly, Michigan loses when it doesn't count, so I maybe shouldn't talk).
Let's cleanse the palate with some more Blade...
That scene (and any other Blade scene with Donal Logue) is so much more funnier if you've seen (or just barely remember) early 00's Fox sitcom Grounded for Life. That might actually be the only contribution Grounded for Life made to the world of humor. Not an utterly terrible show, actually, as far as sitcoms go, but still...
Boeckman, a fifth-year senior who played behind Heisman Trophy winner Troy Smith for two seasons before assuming the starting role for 2007, was first-team All-Big Ten last year, when he threw for 2,379 yards and 35 touchdowns. Boeckman said he won't ignore the Buckeyes being ranked in the top five nationally in all the preseason magazines, and Ohio State being the overwhelming choice of the media to win the Big Ten.
I guess it's sort of refreshing that a player admits he is actually aware of his team's gaudy rankings. I'm not sure; I'm kind of blinded by rage here. That and all the blood from that last clip. Damn messy vampires!
"When things get hyped up, you can't let yourself get distracted by that kind of thing, but you also can't deny it exists," he said. "I think the best approach is for us to just make sure we are ready to face what comes with all of those expectations. At Ohio State, we feel like we always get everyone's best game, and that should definitely be the case again this season."
Yes...the best games of soft, outmatched teams that are scheduled merely to rack up rings. I mean, I'm no "SEC is the best and should always be champs" guy, but seriously. Northern Indiana's best game is still a pretty shitty game.
Jenkins has twice been named first-team All-Big Ten, and was a second team All-American last year when he helped Ohio State lead the nation in pass defense. He said the Buckeyes, who have played in the last two national championship games, have the depth and talent to challenge for another conference crown and make a case for returning to a third title game. Jenkins said the expectations of the fans and the media won't be higher than those the team will set for itself.
I'm pretty sure OSU fans expect the team to fix the economy, cure most known diseases, and land a man on the Sun by 2025. I dunno...they're expectations still might be a little bigger.
"We do have a lot of guys back - a lot of very good players - and on paper this could be a championship team," he said. "We have that potential, but until you turn potential into product, it doesn't mean anything."
I'm guessing the words "potential" and "product" were the two words he took away from the one econ class he went to last year before he was told a special assistant would take care of it. Man, I'm an ass. Feels good though.
You know what even OSU and U of M fans (not to mention all you nice normal people out there) can agree on? Blade. Just...Blade.
Tressel, who starts an eighth season as coach at Ohio State, said he was comfortable that the leadership on his team would handle any issues with keeping the hype and expectations in perspective.
"The Buckeye Nation is out there and we see it everywhere we go. Our fans are very loyal and very passionate, and they don't make it a secret that they want us to succeed," Tressel said. "Our players know that and they understand that. It goes with the territory, and I'm comfortable they won't let it affect their preparation or performance."
You know, OSU fans and players are so unique and interesting. Oregon fans only secretly want their team to win, and Boston College routinely shits itself because they're terrified of upsetting the fans (OK...that might be kinda true).
Laurinaitis, who was chosen as the Big Ten's preseason defensive player of the year for the second straight year, said the sense of obligation to honor the winning heritage at Ohio State is likely on his mind more than any stress over living up to what appears in polls or what fans expect of the team.
"There's a saying we have at Ohio State that says 'with tradition comes responsibility,' and we've got great tradition at Ohio State, so we've got a responsibility to keep it up," Laurinaitis said. "That's something I think about every day."
"With tradition comes responsibility"? That's what happens when you take a cliched Spider-Man quote and up the suck. It sucks, that's what.
Eh, let's just watch Blade fight Dracula.
Man, I wish I could fight Dracula. I'd even bring my machete! Speaking of which...
You're all fucking welcome. Make checks in appreciation payable to the Archie Micklewhite Foundation. It's money...for me.
Well, I'm still in Central America, my computer died (I mean completely and utterly) earlier this week, and we didn't have running water for most of this week. On the plus side, I got to wield an honest-to-goodness machete. That more than makes up for it.
So, with my computer dead and gone, comes the first ever 52 52 52 written on a Mac. I have no idea whether or not it'll be the last, but if you detect slightly more self-loathing in this post than usual (hard to notice, I admit), that'd be why.
But first, something awesome...
Ah, holy shit. Do I really have to do the rest of the post? I mean, it's only Ohio, right? And unless Matt Sussman still reads (and I think it's pretty clear that he does by all the comments he doesn't leave), I'm somehow doubting anyone will care. Seriously, what's Ohio got? A couple halls of fame and a kickass amusement park? Actually, that reminds me...
Oh yeah, I've ridden that bad boy. I've also wielded a machete. All from the safety and security of my mother's basement, of course.
In any event, Ohio makes the list this week thanks to its 1550-feet high Campbell Hill. Three things potentially worth knowing...
1. It was "the former home of the Bellefontaine Air Force Station, where the 664th Aircraft Control and Warning Squadron maintained a Cold War early warning radar." Hey, as long as it helped beat the commies, I'm on board with whatever.
2. Apparently the hard rock of Campbell Hill helped it resist the glaciers during the ice age. Must have been commie glaciers.
3. The land used to be owned by the brewer of Augustiner and Gambrinus beers. I don't have much to add here, but those are some fucking awesome brand names.
Speaking of fucking awesome (this post is just full of the stuff, even if I'm just compiling it for you nice people), this week's newspaper is The Toledo Blade. You might remember I tried to do an article from The Washington Blade, but sadly the gay newspaper of record for our nation's capital had no sports section. The Toledo Blade, however, is not only awesomely named after the swordsmithing industry of Toledo, Spain, but it also has a sports section. And that's more than enough for me to do a quickie article and throw in some clips from the Blade movies. You're welcome.
Today's article has the headline, "Bucks expect expectations." A headline that asinine just has to be worth making fun of. Matt Markey?
The specter is everywhere.
And thus a pulpy fifties detective novel began.
You are reminded of it by the girl from Circleville who sits behind you in sociology class, then by the guy in the produce aisle at Krogers, and again at the family reunion, and when you meet with a couple former players who stopped by campus to visit.
Booooring. Time for a Blade clip.
I'd like to see the girl from Circleville remind you of that.
And even here, surrounded by the swirl of humanity in the heart of downtown in the Windy City, just beyond the shadow of the Sears Tower and a short walk from Navy Pier or the Chicago Mercantile Exchange, you can't elude the aura of Ohio State football.
And to think I used to like Chicago...
Sorry! U of M fandom rearing its head here a bit. I'll try harder.
"It is all around you, and it is everywhere," Buckeyes linebacker James Laurinaitis said yesterday morning as the Big Ten wrapped up its two days of preseason meetings that signal the informal start of the 2008 college football season.
"It is all around you, and it is everywhere"? That may be the most profound-sounding-and-yet-utterly-not-profound thing I've ever heard. And I've heard Martin Heidegger.
Philosophy BURN!!!
"Ohio State football has such a position of prominence in the minds of so many people. But with all of that history and tradition come the constant expectations, and you quickly learn to accept it and really embrace it. You gotta love a place where every year, you are expected to be great."
Its position of prominence? Woefully underrated team that gets blown out when it actually counts. (Admittedly, Michigan loses when it doesn't count, so I maybe shouldn't talk).
Let's cleanse the palate with some more Blade...
That scene (and any other Blade scene with Donal Logue) is so much more funnier if you've seen (or just barely remember) early 00's Fox sitcom Grounded for Life. That might actually be the only contribution Grounded for Life made to the world of humor. Not an utterly terrible show, actually, as far as sitcoms go, but still...
Boeckman, a fifth-year senior who played behind Heisman Trophy winner Troy Smith for two seasons before assuming the starting role for 2007, was first-team All-Big Ten last year, when he threw for 2,379 yards and 35 touchdowns. Boeckman said he won't ignore the Buckeyes being ranked in the top five nationally in all the preseason magazines, and Ohio State being the overwhelming choice of the media to win the Big Ten.
I guess it's sort of refreshing that a player admits he is actually aware of his team's gaudy rankings. I'm not sure; I'm kind of blinded by rage here. That and all the blood from that last clip. Damn messy vampires!
"When things get hyped up, you can't let yourself get distracted by that kind of thing, but you also can't deny it exists," he said. "I think the best approach is for us to just make sure we are ready to face what comes with all of those expectations. At Ohio State, we feel like we always get everyone's best game, and that should definitely be the case again this season."
Yes...the best games of soft, outmatched teams that are scheduled merely to rack up rings. I mean, I'm no "SEC is the best and should always be champs" guy, but seriously. Northern Indiana's best game is still a pretty shitty game.
Jenkins has twice been named first-team All-Big Ten, and was a second team All-American last year when he helped Ohio State lead the nation in pass defense. He said the Buckeyes, who have played in the last two national championship games, have the depth and talent to challenge for another conference crown and make a case for returning to a third title game. Jenkins said the expectations of the fans and the media won't be higher than those the team will set for itself.
I'm pretty sure OSU fans expect the team to fix the economy, cure most known diseases, and land a man on the Sun by 2025. I dunno...they're expectations still might be a little bigger.
"We do have a lot of guys back - a lot of very good players - and on paper this could be a championship team," he said. "We have that potential, but until you turn potential into product, it doesn't mean anything."
I'm guessing the words "potential" and "product" were the two words he took away from the one econ class he went to last year before he was told a special assistant would take care of it. Man, I'm an ass. Feels good though.
You know what even OSU and U of M fans (not to mention all you nice normal people out there) can agree on? Blade. Just...Blade.
Tressel, who starts an eighth season as coach at Ohio State, said he was comfortable that the leadership on his team would handle any issues with keeping the hype and expectations in perspective.
"The Buckeye Nation is out there and we see it everywhere we go. Our fans are very loyal and very passionate, and they don't make it a secret that they want us to succeed," Tressel said. "Our players know that and they understand that. It goes with the territory, and I'm comfortable they won't let it affect their preparation or performance."
You know, OSU fans and players are so unique and interesting. Oregon fans only secretly want their team to win, and Boston College routinely shits itself because they're terrified of upsetting the fans (OK...that might be kinda true).
Laurinaitis, who was chosen as the Big Ten's preseason defensive player of the year for the second straight year, said the sense of obligation to honor the winning heritage at Ohio State is likely on his mind more than any stress over living up to what appears in polls or what fans expect of the team.
"There's a saying we have at Ohio State that says 'with tradition comes responsibility,' and we've got great tradition at Ohio State, so we've got a responsibility to keep it up," Laurinaitis said. "That's something I think about every day."
"With tradition comes responsibility"? That's what happens when you take a cliched Spider-Man quote and up the suck. It sucks, that's what.
Eh, let's just watch Blade fight Dracula.
Man, I wish I could fight Dracula. I'd even bring my machete! Speaking of which...
You're all fucking welcome. Make checks in appreciation payable to the Archie Micklewhite Foundation. It's money...for me.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
52 52 52 Week #22: New Jersey
In which I examine crappy local sports journalism on a state-by-state basis, progressing through the states in terms of an alphabetical ordering of the heights of their tallest points. Because I can.
You know what's delicious? Irony, that's what. As I may or may not have let slip over the course of my writings here, I happen to hail from thegreat state of New Jersey. This week's post should have been my magnum opus, a self-indulgent celebration of myself and the state I happen to reside in. It would have been grand. It would have been opulent. It would have been unreadable. I mean like James Joyce unreadable. Late period Joyce.
But, as it happens, I'm in central America, I'm actually doing shit during the day (there aren't even basements here, my mother's or otherwise), and the internet is spotty. Hence this post will be an utter cop-out. I mean utter. Oh, and I'm also probably suspending the other two weekly features until I get back. I don't have the material for Comics & Sports, and I don't really have time to develop ideas well enough for the Column Thingy. Hopefully Passive and Djmmm will be able to step up.
So yeah, let's get this shit-show on the road. New Jersey's highpoint is, well, High Point, a 1,803 foot highpoint that's, you know, high and shit. Here are your requisite three facts:
1. It's the highest peak in the Kittatinny mountains. I live in the fucking state and I've never heard of this particular range. It clearly needs a better publicist.
2. It's a state park with a 200-foot monument at the summit that memorializes those killed in war. Which is very, very laudable. Of course, since this is Jersey...
3. ...the governor wants to shut the park down. Always knew that guy was a commie.
Our article this week comes from The Star Ledger. It's a fun little paper, I guess, and I've proudly never read it. Since this is New Jersey, there's only one thing it could be about - the Yankees, and the fucking awesomeness thereof. Or, in this case, Kyle Farnsworth. Dan Graziano has the floor.
NEW YORK -- They didn't boo Kyle Farnsworth at Joyce Kilmer Elementary School. Second-graders generally aren't the booing kind, and anyway Farnsworth wasn't there to pitch.
Not there to pitch? Ba-ZING!
This was back on May 21, when Farnsworth couldn't so much as warm up in the Yankee Stadium bullpen without getting booed. So the trip out to Mahwah to talk to the kids about a couple of his favorite topics was a pleasant respite.
May 21st? Even I wouldn't touch something that old. Well, other than that one time I did. But that was to do with Michael Tunison! Sweet, beautiful, resplendent Michael Tunison.
"Kids that age are little sponges," Farnsworth said. "They take in everything they can."
Other ways in which kids are like sponges...
1. They're both eukaryotes.
2. You can use both to clean yourself. Although only one doesn't usually involve a visit by the authorities.
3. They're also called "poriferans."
Farnsworth wasn't there to talk about the Yankees, or about life as a big-league relief pitcher. Sure, some of that came up, but his real purpose for being there was to educate the youngsters on fitness and nutrition.
I'd like to think the questions the second graders did ask about the Yankees were of the following variety...
"Hey, Farnsworth? Fuck you!"
OK...that's only kinda a question. But hey, it's Jersey.
"This is something I care about," Farnsworth said. "So I can tell them a little bit of what I know. Fitness, working out, but also nutrition. That's the most important thing. You can work out all you want, but if you eat bad food, it's not going to do you any good."
Oh...so that's what I've been doing wrong. Also, I don't work out.
Who'd have thought it? Kyle Farnsworth -- man with a message. And a worthy one at that. It may not be enough to make the guy a fan favorite, but it's at least something to think about the next time you boo him.
Kyle Farnsworth thinks fitness is good. This alone should earn him your veneration. After all, A-Rod spends weekends force-feeding chocolate sundaes to already full children.
In three years as a Yankee, Farnsworth has built a poor reputation with the fans. He's seen as a weak link -- a blower of late-inning leads, an unreliable performer whose balky back occasionally renders him useless when they need him most.
But...because he was once a Cub plus some other random reason, my brother fucking loves Kyle Farnsworth. Like he's probably reading this post right now without pants on.
But slowly, as this year has progressed, Farnsworth has begun to rehabilitate himself. He has taken over the eighth-inning setup role, flourishing as the man in front of Mariano Rivera since Joba Chamberlain moved to the starting rotation. He received a huge vote of confidence from his new manager, who also happens to be one of his former catchers, and he has so far justified it.
Let's assume I just made a really juvenile gay joke. You know, because the word "catcher" was used. Goodness, I'm mailing this shit in big time.
Farnsworth acknowledges having had a tough time his first couple of years in New York, but he says the fans' booing isn't anything that's bothered him.
"Nothing I can do about it," he said. "The important thing is that I never lost confidence in myself and what I can do."
That may be the most cliched thing I've ever heard. I'm just saying is all.
Farnsworth is as fit as any player in the major leagues. He works out five days a week in the offseason, a little less during the season. His typical lunch is grilled chicken and rice. His typical breakfast is eggs and/or oatmeal. He'll mix in a steak here and there for dinner, or a baked sweet potato. He'll even have a cheeseburger every now and then. He has no sweet tooth, so he's able to lay off the desserts -- you're far more likely to find him sipping on a protein shake than dipping into the clubhouse's ice cream freezer -- but most of his nutrition program is sensible.
So, he talks to second graders, and "most of his nutrition program is sensible"? Wow, this was really worth writing a column about, wasn't it?
I feel pretty much the same way about this post. Let me make it up to you with a YouTube clip that is guaranteed to cause infinite happiness...
Come on...wasn't that awesome?
You know what's delicious? Irony, that's what. As I may or may not have let slip over the course of my writings here, I happen to hail from the
But, as it happens, I'm in central America, I'm actually doing shit during the day (there aren't even basements here, my mother's or otherwise), and the internet is spotty. Hence this post will be an utter cop-out. I mean utter. Oh, and I'm also probably suspending the other two weekly features until I get back. I don't have the material for Comics & Sports, and I don't really have time to develop ideas well enough for the Column Thingy. Hopefully Passive and Djmmm will be able to step up.
So yeah, let's get this shit-show on the road. New Jersey's highpoint is, well, High Point, a 1,803 foot highpoint that's, you know, high and shit. Here are your requisite three facts:
1. It's the highest peak in the Kittatinny mountains. I live in the fucking state and I've never heard of this particular range. It clearly needs a better publicist.
2. It's a state park with a 200-foot monument at the summit that memorializes those killed in war. Which is very, very laudable. Of course, since this is Jersey...
3. ...the governor wants to shut the park down. Always knew that guy was a commie.
Our article this week comes from The Star Ledger. It's a fun little paper, I guess, and I've proudly never read it. Since this is New Jersey, there's only one thing it could be about - the Yankees, and the fucking awesomeness thereof. Or, in this case, Kyle Farnsworth. Dan Graziano has the floor.
NEW YORK -- They didn't boo Kyle Farnsworth at Joyce Kilmer Elementary School. Second-graders generally aren't the booing kind, and anyway Farnsworth wasn't there to pitch.
Not there to pitch? Ba-ZING!
This was back on May 21, when Farnsworth couldn't so much as warm up in the Yankee Stadium bullpen without getting booed. So the trip out to Mahwah to talk to the kids about a couple of his favorite topics was a pleasant respite.
May 21st? Even I wouldn't touch something that old. Well, other than that one time I did. But that was to do with Michael Tunison! Sweet, beautiful, resplendent Michael Tunison.
"Kids that age are little sponges," Farnsworth said. "They take in everything they can."
Other ways in which kids are like sponges...
1. They're both eukaryotes.
2. You can use both to clean yourself. Although only one doesn't usually involve a visit by the authorities.
3. They're also called "poriferans."
Farnsworth wasn't there to talk about the Yankees, or about life as a big-league relief pitcher. Sure, some of that came up, but his real purpose for being there was to educate the youngsters on fitness and nutrition.
I'd like to think the questions the second graders did ask about the Yankees were of the following variety...
"Hey, Farnsworth? Fuck you!"
OK...that's only kinda a question. But hey, it's Jersey.
"This is something I care about," Farnsworth said. "So I can tell them a little bit of what I know. Fitness, working out, but also nutrition. That's the most important thing. You can work out all you want, but if you eat bad food, it's not going to do you any good."
Oh...so that's what I've been doing wrong. Also, I don't work out.
Who'd have thought it? Kyle Farnsworth -- man with a message. And a worthy one at that. It may not be enough to make the guy a fan favorite, but it's at least something to think about the next time you boo him.
Kyle Farnsworth thinks fitness is good. This alone should earn him your veneration. After all, A-Rod spends weekends force-feeding chocolate sundaes to already full children.
In three years as a Yankee, Farnsworth has built a poor reputation with the fans. He's seen as a weak link -- a blower of late-inning leads, an unreliable performer whose balky back occasionally renders him useless when they need him most.
But...because he was once a Cub plus some other random reason, my brother fucking loves Kyle Farnsworth. Like he's probably reading this post right now without pants on.
But slowly, as this year has progressed, Farnsworth has begun to rehabilitate himself. He has taken over the eighth-inning setup role, flourishing as the man in front of Mariano Rivera since Joba Chamberlain moved to the starting rotation. He received a huge vote of confidence from his new manager, who also happens to be one of his former catchers, and he has so far justified it.
Let's assume I just made a really juvenile gay joke. You know, because the word "catcher" was used. Goodness, I'm mailing this shit in big time.
Farnsworth acknowledges having had a tough time his first couple of years in New York, but he says the fans' booing isn't anything that's bothered him.
"Nothing I can do about it," he said. "The important thing is that I never lost confidence in myself and what I can do."
That may be the most cliched thing I've ever heard. I'm just saying is all.
Farnsworth is as fit as any player in the major leagues. He works out five days a week in the offseason, a little less during the season. His typical lunch is grilled chicken and rice. His typical breakfast is eggs and/or oatmeal. He'll mix in a steak here and there for dinner, or a baked sweet potato. He'll even have a cheeseburger every now and then. He has no sweet tooth, so he's able to lay off the desserts -- you're far more likely to find him sipping on a protein shake than dipping into the clubhouse's ice cream freezer -- but most of his nutrition program is sensible.
So, he talks to second graders, and "most of his nutrition program is sensible"? Wow, this was really worth writing a column about, wasn't it?
I feel pretty much the same way about this post. Let me make it up to you with a YouTube clip that is guaranteed to cause infinite happiness...
Come on...wasn't that awesome?
Sunday, July 13, 2008
52 52 52 Week #21: Canada
In which I examine crappy local sports journalism on a statecountry-by-statecountry basis, progressing through the states countries in terms of an alphabetical ordering of the heights of their tallest points. Because I can.
I know I've been a bit tardy on deadlines this week, but you can bet I'm being extra-punctual with this week's 52 52 52. Since I'm spending all of Sunday traveling to an undisclosed location in Central America (I shit you not), I'm going to have to make this entry a bit brief. So sorry to our neighbor to the North, which makes the cut as the 52nd state right ahead of Puerto Rico. After all, they had the Expos way longer. If that doesn't make them deserving of this bizarre weekly series of mine, I can't imagine what would.
Canada boasts the second tallest peak in North America, with its 19,551-foot Mount Logan beating everyone except Alaska's Mount McKinley. So fuck yeah for America and its 1860s territorial purchases from the Russians! It's a catchy refrain, you've got to admit.
And now for some fast facts regarding everybody's favorite highpoint in the Yukon Territory that may or may not be named after Wolverine...
1. OK, OK, it was really named after Sir William Edmond Logan, who didn't even have the decency to have an adamantium skeleton. Nah, he was just a geologist. And not even a geologist with retractable claws.
2. It's pretty fucking cold up at the summit. On May 26, 1991, it got as low as -108 degrees (and of course I mean Fahren-fucking-heit) up there, which is the coldest natural temperature ever recorded outside Antarctica. So, um, pack a jacket.
3. Apparently former Prime Minister Jean Chretien once wanted to rename it after the even more former Prime Minister Pierre Troudeau, who is most famous for this one time his wife ran off to have sex with the Rolling Stones for two weeks (not that there's anything wrong with that). However, the name change failed due to opposition from, and I'm quoting here, "Yukoners, mountaineers, geologists, Trudeau's political critics, and many other Canadians." I really think they could have just said "everybody in Canada except for maybe a couple of Quebecois jerkoffs", but what do I know? I'm not Wikipedia...not yet, anyway.
Speaking of Quebecois jerkoffs - and I should stress I have nothing personal against Quebec, except that as a proud France-hating Brit I really do have to hate France's bastard offspring on principle - this week's article comes from the Montreal Gazette. Sure, I maybe should have gone with a newspaper from the Yukon Territory, but the only articles I could find were all about me striking it rich in the Gold Rush of 1898. Man, I miss The Yukon Trail, another exciting game from MECC! Not that I'm advertising, you understand.
Anyway, Pat Hickey has the floor on something or other NHL-related. No, please, stick with me. This might just be worth reading anyway.
You would think that a couple of U.S. lawyers would have a firm understanding of freedom of speech, but National Hockey League commissioner Gary Bettman and his right-hand man, Bill Daly, trampled all over the First Amendment to the United States Constitution this week.
Conversely, you'd think that a random Canadian sports columnist would have a piss-poor grip on the Constitution. *SPOILER ALERT* This article is going to prove just that.
The folks in the NHL front office brought an end to the most entertaining hockey story of the offseason when they ordered Anaheim general manager Brian Burke and his Edmonton counterpart, Kevin Lowe, to stop sniping at each other.
The who and the what now?
In case you came in late, Burke accused Lowe of driving up the price of business in the NHL by giving offer sheets last year to restricted free agents Thomas Vanek and Dustin Penner.
Huh...that sounds...potentially...maybe...ever so slightly...no, sorry, I can't really go ahead and call that "interesting." I tried though.
Lowe countered by calling Burke a "moron" and suggested that Burke had little to do with Anaheim's Stanley Cup victory in 2007.
OK...now we might be getting somewhere. I must admit I like that Lowe merely said Burke had "little" to do with it instead of nothing. As far as insults are concerned, you've always got to concede a little if you want to gain a lot. That's just basic insult theory.
You couldn't make this stuff up.
And who would want to?
(Admittedly, if Arli$$ was still on and I was about 20% more hackneyed than I actually am, I might just have made an "other than the writers of Arli$$?" joke there. But thank goodness we don't live in this hellish alternate existence.)
Daly said the feud was bad for business, but he missed the essential point - people were talking about the NHL and the buzz around the water cooler was more interesting than waiting for Mats Sundin to make a decision on his future.
Who was talking about this? I mean, I don't want to underestimate the importance of hockey in Canada, but this made absolutely zero impact in the United States. Now, I'm not trying to be an American supremacist here, I'm just pointing out that this supposed business-boosting brouhaha (how you like my alliteration now?) made nary a dent in the country where a good 75% of NHL franchises are located.
Also, wasn't this supposed to be about free speech in some way? Eh, I'll just point out that private organizations such as the NHL have the right to moderate the speech of its employees within certain limits. If our resident law student wants to expand, he's more than welcome, but at its most basic - this is in no sense a free speech issue. Which, judging by the fact that Pat Hickey completely forgot about it after the first sentence, might be something he realized as well.
Wrigley on ice: The NHL seems determined to make an outdoor game as much a part of the annual landscape as season-opening games in Europe.
And why not? It's easily the best idea they've had in years. Well except for that awesome gap year the NHL took a few years back. Really made fans appreciate what they had for so long taken for granted.
It shouldn't come as a surprise because NBC, the U.S. television rightsholder that doesn't pay for the rights, wants an encore for the successful game this year in Buffalo.
The fact that NBC wants anything to do with regular season hockey is an immensely good sign, and yet somehow I get the sense Pat Hickey is not pleased.
The next edition of the game will be played at Wrigley Field and will feature the Chicago Blackhawks against the Detroit Red Wings. There's no word yet on how the NHL will deal with those fans who watch games from the roofs of neighbouring buildings.
Wait...is that his objection?
Tale of two countries: You might recall that Oren Koules and Len Barrie, the new owners of the Tampa Bay Lightning, had trouble finding someone to finance their purchase of the team. They came up with one-quarter of the $200-million purchase price and former owner Bill Davidson was so anxious to cash out that he's holding an IOU for the balance.
An IOU? It's really true - in every single way, billionaires are like seven-year-olds. Or characters if fifties sitcoms. Kind of a mix really.
The situation is quite different here in Canada, where Darryl Katz was able to secure a $100-million loan to complete his purchase of the Edmonton Oilers. The 6.37-per-cent interest rate is considered high for this type of purchase, but it's hardly usurious.
Ooh, somebody's got a vocabulary. What an insufferably portentous auctorial fellow! I say, wot?
Huh...I broke into a British accent for a second there. Weird.
Katz was able to find money because the strong loonie - it's actually a weak U.S. dollar - has made Canadian NHL teams more viable and the resource-based economy in Edmonton is booming.
I'm sorry, but when your country's favorable economy can really be described in terms of "the strong loonie", how the fuck do you expect anybody to take you seriously? I mean, sure, your economy might not collapse in the next ten years, but at least nobody laughs when they hear the word "dollar." Well, at least not in terms of how it sounds.
Salary cap update: It's a tossup which team is in the worst position vis-a-vis the salary cap in the NHL, the Los Angeles Kings or the Anaheim Ducks.
For fuck's sake - is Los Angeles just incapable of supporting a sports team? I mean, we all know the Lakers are going to fold within six months of Jack Nicholson kicking the bucket.
The Kings are $12 million below the $40-million floor and they have been non-players in the free-agent market. They do have some restricted free agents like Jarret Stoll and Patrick
O'Sullivan to sign, but they might be forced to overpay just to meet the minimum.
Nice formatting. And shouldn't there be more than two sentences of vague "analysis"?
The Ducks are one of four teams that are currently above the $56.3-million cap. They have overspent by $2.4 million and it can't all be Kevin Lowe's fault.
Oh, I'm sure this Burke guy would beg to differ. I cannot wait to talk about this at those Central American water coolers!
There's another sentence, but it's boring. Fine, you asked for it...
Other teams over the cap are the Philadelphia Flyers, Chicago Blackhawks and the Calgary Flames.
See?
I think this article needed more discussion of dating Madonna. I mean in a theoretical sense. Do you think it would help or hurt to like her music? Wait, what am I thinking? Got to save shit this profound for the next column...
I know I've been a bit tardy on deadlines this week, but you can bet I'm being extra-punctual with this week's 52 52 52. Since I'm spending all of Sunday traveling to an undisclosed location in Central America (I shit you not), I'm going to have to make this entry a bit brief. So sorry to our neighbor to the North, which makes the cut as the 52nd state right ahead of Puerto Rico. After all, they had the Expos way longer. If that doesn't make them deserving of this bizarre weekly series of mine, I can't imagine what would.
Canada boasts the second tallest peak in North America, with its 19,551-foot Mount Logan beating everyone except Alaska's Mount McKinley. So fuck yeah for America and its 1860s territorial purchases from the Russians! It's a catchy refrain, you've got to admit.
And now for some fast facts regarding everybody's favorite highpoint in the Yukon Territory that may or may not be named after Wolverine...
1. OK, OK, it was really named after Sir William Edmond Logan, who didn't even have the decency to have an adamantium skeleton. Nah, he was just a geologist. And not even a geologist with retractable claws.
2. It's pretty fucking cold up at the summit. On May 26, 1991, it got as low as -108 degrees (and of course I mean Fahren-fucking-heit) up there, which is the coldest natural temperature ever recorded outside Antarctica. So, um, pack a jacket.
3. Apparently former Prime Minister Jean Chretien once wanted to rename it after the even more former Prime Minister Pierre Troudeau, who is most famous for this one time his wife ran off to have sex with the Rolling Stones for two weeks (not that there's anything wrong with that). However, the name change failed due to opposition from, and I'm quoting here, "Yukoners, mountaineers, geologists, Trudeau's political critics, and many other Canadians." I really think they could have just said "everybody in Canada except for maybe a couple of Quebecois jerkoffs", but what do I know? I'm not Wikipedia...not yet, anyway.
Speaking of Quebecois jerkoffs - and I should stress I have nothing personal against Quebec, except that as a proud France-hating Brit I really do have to hate France's bastard offspring on principle - this week's article comes from the Montreal Gazette. Sure, I maybe should have gone with a newspaper from the Yukon Territory, but the only articles I could find were all about me striking it rich in the Gold Rush of 1898. Man, I miss The Yukon Trail, another exciting game from MECC! Not that I'm advertising, you understand.
Anyway, Pat Hickey has the floor on something or other NHL-related. No, please, stick with me. This might just be worth reading anyway.
You would think that a couple of U.S. lawyers would have a firm understanding of freedom of speech, but National Hockey League commissioner Gary Bettman and his right-hand man, Bill Daly, trampled all over the First Amendment to the United States Constitution this week.
Conversely, you'd think that a random Canadian sports columnist would have a piss-poor grip on the Constitution. *SPOILER ALERT* This article is going to prove just that.
The folks in the NHL front office brought an end to the most entertaining hockey story of the offseason when they ordered Anaheim general manager Brian Burke and his Edmonton counterpart, Kevin Lowe, to stop sniping at each other.
The who and the what now?
In case you came in late, Burke accused Lowe of driving up the price of business in the NHL by giving offer sheets last year to restricted free agents Thomas Vanek and Dustin Penner.
Huh...that sounds...potentially...maybe...ever so slightly...no, sorry, I can't really go ahead and call that "interesting." I tried though.
Lowe countered by calling Burke a "moron" and suggested that Burke had little to do with Anaheim's Stanley Cup victory in 2007.
OK...now we might be getting somewhere. I must admit I like that Lowe merely said Burke had "little" to do with it instead of nothing. As far as insults are concerned, you've always got to concede a little if you want to gain a lot. That's just basic insult theory.
You couldn't make this stuff up.
And who would want to?
(Admittedly, if Arli$$ was still on and I was about 20% more hackneyed than I actually am, I might just have made an "other than the writers of Arli$$?" joke there. But thank goodness we don't live in this hellish alternate existence.)
Daly said the feud was bad for business, but he missed the essential point - people were talking about the NHL and the buzz around the water cooler was more interesting than waiting for Mats Sundin to make a decision on his future.
Who was talking about this? I mean, I don't want to underestimate the importance of hockey in Canada, but this made absolutely zero impact in the United States. Now, I'm not trying to be an American supremacist here, I'm just pointing out that this supposed business-boosting brouhaha (how you like my alliteration now?) made nary a dent in the country where a good 75% of NHL franchises are located.
Also, wasn't this supposed to be about free speech in some way? Eh, I'll just point out that private organizations such as the NHL have the right to moderate the speech of its employees within certain limits. If our resident law student wants to expand, he's more than welcome, but at its most basic - this is in no sense a free speech issue. Which, judging by the fact that Pat Hickey completely forgot about it after the first sentence, might be something he realized as well.
Wrigley on ice: The NHL seems determined to make an outdoor game as much a part of the annual landscape as season-opening games in Europe.
And why not? It's easily the best idea they've had in years. Well except for that awesome gap year the NHL took a few years back. Really made fans appreciate what they had for so long taken for granted.
It shouldn't come as a surprise because NBC, the U.S. television rightsholder that doesn't pay for the rights, wants an encore for the successful game this year in Buffalo.
The fact that NBC wants anything to do with regular season hockey is an immensely good sign, and yet somehow I get the sense Pat Hickey is not pleased.
The next edition of the game will be played at Wrigley Field and will feature the Chicago Blackhawks against the Detroit Red Wings. There's no word yet on how the NHL will deal with those fans who watch games from the roofs of neighbouring buildings.
Wait...is that his objection?
Tale of two countries: You might recall that Oren Koules and Len Barrie, the new owners of the Tampa Bay Lightning, had trouble finding someone to finance their purchase of the team. They came up with one-quarter of the $200-million purchase price and former owner Bill Davidson was so anxious to cash out that he's holding an IOU for the balance.
An IOU? It's really true - in every single way, billionaires are like seven-year-olds. Or characters if fifties sitcoms. Kind of a mix really.
The situation is quite different here in Canada, where Darryl Katz was able to secure a $100-million loan to complete his purchase of the Edmonton Oilers. The 6.37-per-cent interest rate is considered high for this type of purchase, but it's hardly usurious.
Ooh, somebody's got a vocabulary. What an insufferably portentous auctorial fellow! I say, wot?
Huh...I broke into a British accent for a second there. Weird.
Katz was able to find money because the strong loonie - it's actually a weak U.S. dollar - has made Canadian NHL teams more viable and the resource-based economy in Edmonton is booming.
I'm sorry, but when your country's favorable economy can really be described in terms of "the strong loonie", how the fuck do you expect anybody to take you seriously? I mean, sure, your economy might not collapse in the next ten years, but at least nobody laughs when they hear the word "dollar." Well, at least not in terms of how it sounds.
Salary cap update: It's a tossup which team is in the worst position vis-a-vis the salary cap in the NHL, the Los Angeles Kings or the Anaheim Ducks.
For fuck's sake - is Los Angeles just incapable of supporting a sports team? I mean, we all know the Lakers are going to fold within six months of Jack Nicholson kicking the bucket.
The Kings are $12 million below the $40-million floor and they have been non-players in the free-agent market. They do have some restricted free agents like Jarret Stoll and Patrick
O'Sullivan to sign, but they might be forced to overpay just to meet the minimum.
Nice formatting. And shouldn't there be more than two sentences of vague "analysis"?
The Ducks are one of four teams that are currently above the $56.3-million cap. They have overspent by $2.4 million and it can't all be Kevin Lowe's fault.
Oh, I'm sure this Burke guy would beg to differ. I cannot wait to talk about this at those Central American water coolers!
There's another sentence, but it's boring. Fine, you asked for it...
Other teams over the cap are the Philadelphia Flyers, Chicago Blackhawks and the Calgary Flames.
See?
I think this article needed more discussion of dating Madonna. I mean in a theoretical sense. Do you think it would help or hurt to like her music? Wait, what am I thinking? Got to save shit this profound for the next column...
Sunday, July 6, 2008
52 52 52 Week #20: Vermont
In which I examine crappy local sports journalism on a state-by-state basis, progressing through the states in terms of an alphabetical ordering of the heights of their tallest points. Because I can.
If there was ever a week when 52 52 52 wasn't going to happen, it was probably this one. (Well, other than the four weeks I'm about to spend out of the country, but let's burn that bridge when we get to it.) After all, it's still Independence Weekend (and if that isn't the term, it should be), and I still am under no obligation to do anything other than affirm my love of all things America in the most jingoistic way possible. Which, as far as I'm concerned, involves blowing up Spanish battleships in the name of payback, "Remember the Maine" style. Because that's how I roll.
For after all, as the state motto of Vermont says, "Live free or die!" And if you think of blogging as synonymous with living free and not blogging as much like death, well then...
Ah, I see. I'm being told that "Live free or die" is actually New Hampshire's motto. Honest mistake, that. What's Vermont's? "Freedom and Unity", eh? Well then, if freedom is blogging, and unity is not taking July 4th weekend off, I think you can see how...ah, fuck it.
Point is, we're on Vermont this week, and its stylish Mount Mansfield, clocking in at 4,393 feet. I'd like to think Mount Mansfield was the source of a bunch of really immature jokes by Vermont schoolboys in the 1950s, thanks to the popularity of the truly spectacularly-chested Jayne Mansfield. You know, a lot of stuff about wanting to "mount Mansfield" and other similarly hilarious repartee passed around during hiking excursions. A man can dream. And, because this is still America dammit, a man can supplement the following three facts with pictures of Jayne Mansfield. Because I am, like my last post said, a motherfucking hero.
1. From Wikipedia: "Mount Mansfield is one of the two spots in Vermont where true alpine tundra survives from the ice ages." At the risk of a very, very hackneyed joke that is sure to piss off Djmmm, I think there's a definite chance I may have to revise that joke by 2018. You know, because of global warming. Melting ice, people. Fuck, I probably should have spent more time phrasing that joke and less time apologizing for it. Ah well, no need to apologize for this...
King of the segue, yes sir.
2. Mount Mansfield is the home of the Stowe skiing resort. I'm sure it's a very nice place, but I'm guessing it was at a slightly warmer clime that this photo was snapped...
Not that I'd complain with more ski-appropriate attire. Those fifties gals sure knew how to stretch a sweater. And, by that, I mean they had almost cartoonish busts. Eh, no "almost" about it.
3. Also from Wikipedia: "The mountain has the appearance of a (quite elongated) human face when viewed from the east or west with distinct forehead, nose, lips, chin (the highest point) and an Adam's apple."
I imagine much of that might also be true about Jayne Mansfield, but I haven't quite bothered to check yet. Well, apart from the Adam's apple. Hopefully. Eh, with breasts (or, as us classy folks call them, "gazongas") like that, I won't quibble.
Now that I'm good and horny (which is my preferred writing style, not unlike Oscar Wilde, and we all know how he turned out...wait, he turned out how?), let's talk some Vermont sports journalism. Kenneth Wells of the Newport Daily Express steps up with a piece on a Canadian NASCAR driver. I had vowed to never discuss Canada and NASCAR, but such is the world in which we find ourselves. Also, when the grammar and mechanics are this atrocious, I just can't resist. It's the pedantic dick in me. Mr. Wells?
He’s young, good looking and has that quality personality that fans and friends alike can root for.
"Quality personality"? Not to sound like a stereotypical horny dude in a shitty comedy (too late, I know), but when has that ever not been used as a euphemism? What does this dude have? Genital warts? I'm going to go with genital warts.
For Joliette, Qué. native Patrick Carpentier a big step towards respectability in his chosen profession was taken.
Oh, he's from Quebec. Close enough. To genital warts, I mean.
Man, this is one hell of a dirty post. I guess this is what I get for talking about Canada so soon after the 4th of July. John Adams must be spinning in his XXL grave.
He emerged as the NASCAR Pole sitter in the Lennox Industrial Equipment 301 race this past weekend.
Just to finish off the utterly juvenile trifecta: heh, heh...pole.
The 37 year old turned the mile oval in 29.349 seconds and called it his,"biggest" accomplishment in a career dating back more than a decade. Carpentier said, "Its amazing." There is going to be busloads of people down here, and that’s what the objective is, to grow the fan base of NASCAR here and bring more people in. A lot of people in Canada are starting to be fans.”
Here's a fun game - let's play "Count the grammatical, mechanical, and formatting errors!" in that last mess of text. The game's so fun, it's totally sick! Well, sic, at the very least. This man isn't just the editor of the sports section like last week's Sara Mettlen; he's the fucking publisher of the entire newspaper. For goodness sake, I think I could dig up articles I wrote for my middle school newspaper that are better written than that. And hell, I'm always looking for a new gimmick...
Patrick is smiling, and genuinely appreciative of his feat which could make him the perfect Canadian ambassador for the sport. He continued," I am really happy, and hopefully this will help me stick around for a few years.”
Him winning the pole in a minor NASCAR race makes him the perfect Canadian ambassador for the sport? The sad thing is, I totally buy that.
Patrick Carpentier, who makes his home in Las Vegas now is a likable person and his story is somewhat a Cinderella version.
Seriously...was this originally written in English? I'm perfectly willing to redact this post if this was actually a French language article badly translated but, but...I doubt it, somehow.
Honestly, this is like shooting fish in a barrel. If there was one fish that completely filled the barrel. And the water was frozen. And the gun was glued to the fish. And the gun was set to auto-fire. And even if you missed, it still counted as a successful shooting of fish in a barrel. That's how easy mocking this article is. It's almost beneath me. Thank goodness I'm unbelievably petty.
He is easy to pull, for less than two years ago he came to Loudon during the Sylvania 300 weekend to basically introduce himself to potential sponsors.
He's easy to pull? What, one can, as Wiktionary so eloquently puts it, "persuade [him] to have sex with one"? He really is Quebecois...
It's obvious that Kenneth Wells is forcing his children to write articles for him. Here's the real question though: was it his twelve-year-old or five-year-old? Keep in mind, his twelve-year-old is going through a bit of a geek phase, so you'd think there'd be some random Gundam Wing reference crowbarred in there somewhere. You know, much like I did there. Overall, I'm going with five-year-old on the day he learned to use spell check. Because, atrocious as the usage might be, at least some of the words are spelled correctly.
Carpentier has never finished higher than 23rd, but, if he can ever hang close enough and long enough to capture the checkers, there may well be a new national holiday up north.
If he wins one obscure NASCAR race, Canada will designate a national holiday? Look, I know the Stephen Harper premiership has gotten people down, but let's not take things to completely radical extremes.
See! I even know the name of Canada's prime minister. Admittedly, I thought it was James Harper until I looked it up, but isn't it the effort that counts? So, um...yay America!
If there was ever a week when 52 52 52 wasn't going to happen, it was probably this one. (Well, other than the four weeks I'm about to spend out of the country, but let's burn that bridge when we get to it.) After all, it's still Independence Weekend (and if that isn't the term, it should be), and I still am under no obligation to do anything other than affirm my love of all things America in the most jingoistic way possible. Which, as far as I'm concerned, involves blowing up Spanish battleships in the name of payback, "Remember the Maine" style. Because that's how I roll.
For after all, as the state motto of Vermont says, "Live free or die!" And if you think of blogging as synonymous with living free and not blogging as much like death, well then...
Ah, I see. I'm being told that "Live free or die" is actually New Hampshire's motto. Honest mistake, that. What's Vermont's? "Freedom and Unity", eh? Well then, if freedom is blogging, and unity is not taking July 4th weekend off, I think you can see how...ah, fuck it.
Point is, we're on Vermont this week, and its stylish Mount Mansfield, clocking in at 4,393 feet. I'd like to think Mount Mansfield was the source of a bunch of really immature jokes by Vermont schoolboys in the 1950s, thanks to the popularity of the truly spectacularly-chested Jayne Mansfield. You know, a lot of stuff about wanting to "mount Mansfield" and other similarly hilarious repartee passed around during hiking excursions. A man can dream. And, because this is still America dammit, a man can supplement the following three facts with pictures of Jayne Mansfield. Because I am, like my last post said, a motherfucking hero.
1. From Wikipedia: "Mount Mansfield is one of the two spots in Vermont where true alpine tundra survives from the ice ages." At the risk of a very, very hackneyed joke that is sure to piss off Djmmm, I think there's a definite chance I may have to revise that joke by 2018. You know, because of global warming. Melting ice, people. Fuck, I probably should have spent more time phrasing that joke and less time apologizing for it. Ah well, no need to apologize for this...
King of the segue, yes sir.
2. Mount Mansfield is the home of the Stowe skiing resort. I'm sure it's a very nice place, but I'm guessing it was at a slightly warmer clime that this photo was snapped...
Not that I'd complain with more ski-appropriate attire. Those fifties gals sure knew how to stretch a sweater. And, by that, I mean they had almost cartoonish busts. Eh, no "almost" about it.
3. Also from Wikipedia: "The mountain has the appearance of a (quite elongated) human face when viewed from the east or west with distinct forehead, nose, lips, chin (the highest point) and an Adam's apple."
I imagine much of that might also be true about Jayne Mansfield, but I haven't quite bothered to check yet. Well, apart from the Adam's apple. Hopefully. Eh, with breasts (or, as us classy folks call them, "gazongas") like that, I won't quibble.
Now that I'm good and horny (which is my preferred writing style, not unlike Oscar Wilde, and we all know how he turned out...wait, he turned out how?), let's talk some Vermont sports journalism. Kenneth Wells of the Newport Daily Express steps up with a piece on a Canadian NASCAR driver. I had vowed to never discuss Canada and NASCAR, but such is the world in which we find ourselves. Also, when the grammar and mechanics are this atrocious, I just can't resist. It's the pedantic dick in me. Mr. Wells?
He’s young, good looking and has that quality personality that fans and friends alike can root for.
"Quality personality"? Not to sound like a stereotypical horny dude in a shitty comedy (too late, I know), but when has that ever not been used as a euphemism? What does this dude have? Genital warts? I'm going to go with genital warts.
For Joliette, Qué. native Patrick Carpentier a big step towards respectability in his chosen profession was taken.
Oh, he's from Quebec. Close enough. To genital warts, I mean.
Man, this is one hell of a dirty post. I guess this is what I get for talking about Canada so soon after the 4th of July. John Adams must be spinning in his XXL grave.
He emerged as the NASCAR Pole sitter in the Lennox Industrial Equipment 301 race this past weekend.
Just to finish off the utterly juvenile trifecta: heh, heh...pole.
The 37 year old turned the mile oval in 29.349 seconds and called it his,"biggest" accomplishment in a career dating back more than a decade. Carpentier said, "Its amazing." There is going to be busloads of people down here, and that’s what the objective is, to grow the fan base of NASCAR here and bring more people in. A lot of people in Canada are starting to be fans.”
Here's a fun game - let's play "Count the grammatical, mechanical, and formatting errors!" in that last mess of text. The game's so fun, it's totally sick! Well, sic, at the very least. This man isn't just the editor of the sports section like last week's Sara Mettlen; he's the fucking publisher of the entire newspaper. For goodness sake, I think I could dig up articles I wrote for my middle school newspaper that are better written than that. And hell, I'm always looking for a new gimmick...
Patrick is smiling, and genuinely appreciative of his feat which could make him the perfect Canadian ambassador for the sport. He continued," I am really happy, and hopefully this will help me stick around for a few years.”
Him winning the pole in a minor NASCAR race makes him the perfect Canadian ambassador for the sport? The sad thing is, I totally buy that.
Patrick Carpentier, who makes his home in Las Vegas now is a likable person and his story is somewhat a Cinderella version.
Seriously...was this originally written in English? I'm perfectly willing to redact this post if this was actually a French language article badly translated but, but...I doubt it, somehow.
Honestly, this is like shooting fish in a barrel. If there was one fish that completely filled the barrel. And the water was frozen. And the gun was glued to the fish. And the gun was set to auto-fire. And even if you missed, it still counted as a successful shooting of fish in a barrel. That's how easy mocking this article is. It's almost beneath me. Thank goodness I'm unbelievably petty.
He is easy to pull, for less than two years ago he came to Loudon during the Sylvania 300 weekend to basically introduce himself to potential sponsors.
He's easy to pull? What, one can, as Wiktionary so eloquently puts it, "persuade [him] to have sex with one"? He really is Quebecois...
It's obvious that Kenneth Wells is forcing his children to write articles for him. Here's the real question though: was it his twelve-year-old or five-year-old? Keep in mind, his twelve-year-old is going through a bit of a geek phase, so you'd think there'd be some random Gundam Wing reference crowbarred in there somewhere. You know, much like I did there. Overall, I'm going with five-year-old on the day he learned to use spell check. Because, atrocious as the usage might be, at least some of the words are spelled correctly.
Carpentier has never finished higher than 23rd, but, if he can ever hang close enough and long enough to capture the checkers, there may well be a new national holiday up north.
If he wins one obscure NASCAR race, Canada will designate a national holiday? Look, I know the Stephen Harper premiership has gotten people down, but let's not take things to completely radical extremes.
See! I even know the name of Canada's prime minister. Admittedly, I thought it was James Harper until I looked it up, but isn't it the effort that counts? So, um...yay America!
Sunday, June 29, 2008
52 52 52 Week #19: Kansas
In which I examine crappy local sports journalism on a state-by-state basis, progressing through the states in terms of an alphabetical ordering of the heights of their tallest points. Because I can.
This week's highpoint and article really need no introduction. Wait, does that count as an introduction? Aw, I hate epistemological conundrums...
Kansas's highpoint is, essentially, the Kansas-Colorado border. Technically speaking, it's called Mount Sunflower, it stands at 4,039 feet, and here's three things vaguely worth knowing about it:
1. It's completely indistinguishable from the surrounding land. Also, it's really close to Colorado's lowest point. So yeah, hell of a summit.
2. If you'll remember Nebraska's entry in week six, you might recall a humorous account of climbing its distinctly non-mountainous highpoint. Well, that was only a sequel, a pale Bad Boys II to the original Bad Boys that is this harrowing tale of climbing Mount Sunflower.
3. The summit is on private property belonging to Mike and Rae Marie Jones, who apparently have a good sense of humor. According to Wikipedia, the summit is adorned by such items as "a picnic table, a sunflower sculpture made from railroad spikes, and a plaque that states 'nothing happened here in 1897.'" I'm sorry, but that last part is hilarious.
Today's article comes from The Leavenworth Times, which I pretty much checked out on the off-chance there would be a random allusion to local inmate Michael Vick. For once, I was not disappointed. Thanks middle America! Or, to be more precise, thanks Leavenworth Times sports editor Sara Mettlen!
You know, when you do a Google image search for "Sara Mettlen", this is the first result, for some awesome reason:
I don't know why, and, frankly, I don't want to know. Sadly, Ms. Mettlen's prose is much like what I imagine the Amazing Amazon's would be: pretty damn preachy. Let's just do this.
Today is Michael Vick’s birthday.
Happy birthday Michael! Oh, wait, this was written on June 27. Ah well. Better late than never, right? Well, except when it comes to being caught torturing dogs. Am I right, people? Man, I kill myself. So, um, Michael, no need to do that when you get out, right?
Just thought that was worth knowing since he’s practically a neighbor. Don’t worry, I’m also going to make it work into a point I hope to make later, so it’s not totally random knowledge.
Well, thank goodness. For a second there I thought you were just wishing happy birthday to a convicted felon. And if that were the case, as Bill Plaschke would say, "Shame on you!" (Seriously, if there's one thing I learned from Around the Horn - and I'm absolutely certain I didn't learn anything else - it's that that is America's next great catchphrase.)
For some unknown reason, the article divides itself into a "BETTER" section, a "WORSE" section, and an "ABOUT THE SAME" section. Man, I hate lame gimmickry. And be sure to check out next week's "Comics & Sports", not to mention the next installment of "52 52 52"! And whatever will I name my column next week?
Huh...don't know why all of that just occurred to me. Oh well.
Fresno State won the College World Series on Wednesday with a 6-1 win over Georgia. If you are a first time reader you’ve missed me writing about how much I love the CWS for a couple weeks now,
I'll try to survive. I'm not sure how I'll live without having read that stuff, but I'll try.
but if Fresno winning — the equivalent of a 13-16 seed winning the NCAA basketball tournament — didn’t make you smile for a least a little while, either you’re a Georgia fan or something is wrong with you.
Or maybe college baseball doesn't do that much for you? I mean, congratulations to Fresno State and all, but I just can't quite buy into the collegiate version of a sport with such a huge minor league system. Hell, I'm not even downplaying the enormity of their achievement. It's just that college baseball seems so irrelevant that I couldn't even be bothered to learn the context.
Now obviously, feel free to disagree. I have to admit, I'm just generally a pro sports kind of guy, and I've got tons of bizarre quirks and abnormalities when it comes to my sports fandom. Hell, this is probably one of them. But I know I'm not a Georgia fan, and I'd like to think nothing's wrong with me...eh, who am I kidding? There's definitely something wrong with me.
You see, Fresno’s win makes a statement, much like the one KU’s two first-round losses during March Madness did but with less emotional distress for me. The Bulldogs’ win shows that regardless of the how high or low a team is ranked or seeded you have to show up to play on game day. There’s a lot of athletic talent in this world and thinking you can get by just because some system gives you a better seed than your opponent is probably a sign you’ll lose.
Is it just me, or should there have been more than two commas in that whole mess of text? I admit I probably overuse the damn things, but that whole block felt like one long detour into run-on country.
Oh, I'm sorry, you want my thoughts on the content, not the grammar? Well, hey, I'm as big a fan of the underdog as anyone else, but I'm not the biggest fan of couching that sentiment in "you have to show up to play on game day." That seems a little gritty to me. I dunno, I think it's more down to random chance and a little luck than people overlooking their opponents. To be honest, that whole angle is probably a little overplayed.
In a nut shell: Respect your opponent.
I fully expect this to be the slogan for next year's NBA playoffs.
WORSE
My dislike of Shaquille O’Neil aside (if you get paid that much money to play basketball you should be able to make a free throw)
Or, alternately, you can make up for your admittedly lousy free throw shooting by dominating pretty much every other aspect of the game for a decade. Also, it's O'Neal. Who the hell is editing this sports section? Hey, wait a moment...
Or, to be more precise, thanks Leavenworth Times sports editor Sara Mettlen!
Looks like somebody doesn't know how to self-edit. Of course, me make mistake? That's unpossible. Just so we're clear.
the video of him rapping about Kobe Bryant is a whole new low.
If by "low" you mean "proof of Shaq's comedic genius", then I'm totally on board. Of course, if you're using pretty much any of the "correct" definitions of the word "low", then I really will have to disagree.
So Kobe didn’t want to be on your team, feel free to not like the man, heck even hate him, but don’t publicly do something that mostly just makes you look like a moron to put him down.
I think it's a little more than "didn't want to be on your team." I believe it's "caused a massive rift and then pretty much forced Laker management to rebuild the team in his image, starting with trading Shaq." Look, I'm about as big a Kobe supporter as you're likely to find, but let's be honest. Shaq has legitimate beef here. Kobe beef, even.
(I swear that pun was not initially intended. But hey, when the opportunity arose, I fucking took it. That's why I'm a champion blogger.)
I think first of all someone should tell Shaq he really isn’t all too great of a rapper and secondly maybe throw out a reminder that not only do his own children look up to him but so do a lot of other children around the world.
This is just a crazy guess, but I doubt Sara Mettlen is the world's biggest hip-hop fan. Of course, Shaq is a terrible rapper, but only when you judge him against professionals. As a free-styling amateur? He's pretty decent, I'd say. And speaking of overplayed angles...
Look, the last thing anyone wants to hear from me is moral outrage in response to moral outrage, so I'll spare you that. Let's just be realistic. It's the 21st century. Not only do kids regularly hear worse than anything in Shaq's song, there's the simple fact that to ask athletes to constantly be on guard against letting children down is to basically ask them not to have a private life. Ten years ago, that rap would have been at best a rumor, a story repeated in select circles and then later related by somebody like the Sports Guy. Hell, that would probably have been true even three or four years ago. So let's be realistic here. Role model or no, Shaq has the right to act like an adult every once in awhile. Which, ironically, usually entails behaving unbelievably childishly, but whatever.
Here comes the tie back to Vick, professional athletes seem to be steadily making poorer and poorer decisions, which is particularly alarming consider nearly all professional sports are enjoying some of the best ratings they’ve had in years.
Wait...Shaq asking Kobe how his ass tastes in a freestyle rap is somehow even remotely comparable to what Michael Vick did? Come on, let's at least try to be sensible here. Oh, and this barely makes any sense. I mean, like, at all. Leaving aside the run-on vibe and the mechanical errors (that should be "considering" up there, and that's without even really looking at it), none of the points in that sentence even begin to logically connect. Michael Vick...poor decisions...still great ratings? What...the...fuck?
So for the rest of the population making a living off of their sport, please find a way to act with more decorum than Shaq. That shouldn’t be too hard.
Or, alternately, for those of us following sports, we could admit these are all real people with real lives, and decide either to enjoy this sort of off-screen stuff or ignore it. Seems only fair.
ABOUT THE SAME
Although Michael Beasley was, in my opinion at least, the best player in the NBA draft, he didn’t go first. Brandon Rush went higher than expected, Darrell Arthur went lower and somehow Mario Chalmers slipped out of the first round. I’m sorry to break it to anyone who spent hours of their night watching the draft, but it doesn’t really matter.
Well...it might matter if your team made a terrible selection. Or, if you prefer me to feign optimism, an awesome pick. It certainly matters to me who Chicago chose (although obviously it mattered even more than usual this year). Judging by all the Kansas-related players, I'm guessing Sara Mettlen is approaching this from a collegiate perspective, from which, yeah, it doesn't really matter who goes where as long as they get drafted. But from a professional perspective? It matters a huge fucking deal who goes where.
Until all the trades are finalized you don’t even really know where a guy is going to be playing next year.
Yeah...that's true, but it certainly narrows it down a little, right? I mean, I didn't really bother watching the draft because it's, you know, boring, but I certainly followed it.
A caveat to the it doesn’t matter remark, it does matter in monetary terms for the players themselves, but to fans not so much.
Again...I'd guess a good 85-90% of draftees end up playing (if they ever play at all) for the team that picked them. So yeah, it does matter to fans. Fans of the teams that picked them.
Trades aside, where a player goes in the draft doesn’t necessarily match up with how well he does once he’s in the league. After all, Michael Jordan went No. 3 and the current league MVP Kobe Bryant went No. 13.
Is it just me, or is she arguing two different things here? First that it doesn't matter where a player gets taken, and then also it doesn't matter who selects them. Because maybe I'll grant the first point, but the second one seems, well, kinda dumb.
Ah well, I guess it's all good. And once again, happy belated birthday Michael!
This week's highpoint and article really need no introduction. Wait, does that count as an introduction? Aw, I hate epistemological conundrums...
Kansas's highpoint is, essentially, the Kansas-Colorado border. Technically speaking, it's called Mount Sunflower, it stands at 4,039 feet, and here's three things vaguely worth knowing about it:
1. It's completely indistinguishable from the surrounding land. Also, it's really close to Colorado's lowest point. So yeah, hell of a summit.
2. If you'll remember Nebraska's entry in week six, you might recall a humorous account of climbing its distinctly non-mountainous highpoint. Well, that was only a sequel, a pale Bad Boys II to the original Bad Boys that is this harrowing tale of climbing Mount Sunflower.
3. The summit is on private property belonging to Mike and Rae Marie Jones, who apparently have a good sense of humor. According to Wikipedia, the summit is adorned by such items as "a picnic table, a sunflower sculpture made from railroad spikes, and a plaque that states 'nothing happened here in 1897.'" I'm sorry, but that last part is hilarious.
Today's article comes from The Leavenworth Times, which I pretty much checked out on the off-chance there would be a random allusion to local inmate Michael Vick. For once, I was not disappointed. Thanks middle America! Or, to be more precise, thanks Leavenworth Times sports editor Sara Mettlen!
You know, when you do a Google image search for "Sara Mettlen", this is the first result, for some awesome reason:
I don't know why, and, frankly, I don't want to know. Sadly, Ms. Mettlen's prose is much like what I imagine the Amazing Amazon's would be: pretty damn preachy. Let's just do this.
Today is Michael Vick’s birthday.
Happy birthday Michael! Oh, wait, this was written on June 27. Ah well. Better late than never, right? Well, except when it comes to being caught torturing dogs. Am I right, people? Man, I kill myself. So, um, Michael, no need to do that when you get out, right?
Just thought that was worth knowing since he’s practically a neighbor. Don’t worry, I’m also going to make it work into a point I hope to make later, so it’s not totally random knowledge.
Well, thank goodness. For a second there I thought you were just wishing happy birthday to a convicted felon. And if that were the case, as Bill Plaschke would say, "Shame on you!" (Seriously, if there's one thing I learned from Around the Horn - and I'm absolutely certain I didn't learn anything else - it's that that is America's next great catchphrase.)
For some unknown reason, the article divides itself into a "BETTER" section, a "WORSE" section, and an "ABOUT THE SAME" section. Man, I hate lame gimmickry. And be sure to check out next week's "Comics & Sports", not to mention the next installment of "52 52 52"! And whatever will I name my column next week?
Huh...don't know why all of that just occurred to me. Oh well.
Fresno State won the College World Series on Wednesday with a 6-1 win over Georgia. If you are a first time reader you’ve missed me writing about how much I love the CWS for a couple weeks now,
I'll try to survive. I'm not sure how I'll live without having read that stuff, but I'll try.
but if Fresno winning — the equivalent of a 13-16 seed winning the NCAA basketball tournament — didn’t make you smile for a least a little while, either you’re a Georgia fan or something is wrong with you.
Or maybe college baseball doesn't do that much for you? I mean, congratulations to Fresno State and all, but I just can't quite buy into the collegiate version of a sport with such a huge minor league system. Hell, I'm not even downplaying the enormity of their achievement. It's just that college baseball seems so irrelevant that I couldn't even be bothered to learn the context.
Now obviously, feel free to disagree. I have to admit, I'm just generally a pro sports kind of guy, and I've got tons of bizarre quirks and abnormalities when it comes to my sports fandom. Hell, this is probably one of them. But I know I'm not a Georgia fan, and I'd like to think nothing's wrong with me...eh, who am I kidding? There's definitely something wrong with me.
You see, Fresno’s win makes a statement, much like the one KU’s two first-round losses during March Madness did but with less emotional distress for me. The Bulldogs’ win shows that regardless of the how high or low a team is ranked or seeded you have to show up to play on game day. There’s a lot of athletic talent in this world and thinking you can get by just because some system gives you a better seed than your opponent is probably a sign you’ll lose.
Is it just me, or should there have been more than two commas in that whole mess of text? I admit I probably overuse the damn things, but that whole block felt like one long detour into run-on country.
Oh, I'm sorry, you want my thoughts on the content, not the grammar? Well, hey, I'm as big a fan of the underdog as anyone else, but I'm not the biggest fan of couching that sentiment in "you have to show up to play on game day." That seems a little gritty to me. I dunno, I think it's more down to random chance and a little luck than people overlooking their opponents. To be honest, that whole angle is probably a little overplayed.
In a nut shell: Respect your opponent.
I fully expect this to be the slogan for next year's NBA playoffs.
WORSE
My dislike of Shaquille O’Neil aside (if you get paid that much money to play basketball you should be able to make a free throw)
Or, alternately, you can make up for your admittedly lousy free throw shooting by dominating pretty much every other aspect of the game for a decade. Also, it's O'Neal. Who the hell is editing this sports section? Hey, wait a moment...
Or, to be more precise, thanks Leavenworth Times sports editor Sara Mettlen!
Looks like somebody doesn't know how to self-edit. Of course, me make mistake? That's unpossible. Just so we're clear.
the video of him rapping about Kobe Bryant is a whole new low.
If by "low" you mean "proof of Shaq's comedic genius", then I'm totally on board. Of course, if you're using pretty much any of the "correct" definitions of the word "low", then I really will have to disagree.
So Kobe didn’t want to be on your team, feel free to not like the man, heck even hate him, but don’t publicly do something that mostly just makes you look like a moron to put him down.
I think it's a little more than "didn't want to be on your team." I believe it's "caused a massive rift and then pretty much forced Laker management to rebuild the team in his image, starting with trading Shaq." Look, I'm about as big a Kobe supporter as you're likely to find, but let's be honest. Shaq has legitimate beef here. Kobe beef, even.
(I swear that pun was not initially intended. But hey, when the opportunity arose, I fucking took it. That's why I'm a champion blogger.)
I think first of all someone should tell Shaq he really isn’t all too great of a rapper and secondly maybe throw out a reminder that not only do his own children look up to him but so do a lot of other children around the world.
This is just a crazy guess, but I doubt Sara Mettlen is the world's biggest hip-hop fan. Of course, Shaq is a terrible rapper, but only when you judge him against professionals. As a free-styling amateur? He's pretty decent, I'd say. And speaking of overplayed angles...
Look, the last thing anyone wants to hear from me is moral outrage in response to moral outrage, so I'll spare you that. Let's just be realistic. It's the 21st century. Not only do kids regularly hear worse than anything in Shaq's song, there's the simple fact that to ask athletes to constantly be on guard against letting children down is to basically ask them not to have a private life. Ten years ago, that rap would have been at best a rumor, a story repeated in select circles and then later related by somebody like the Sports Guy. Hell, that would probably have been true even three or four years ago. So let's be realistic here. Role model or no, Shaq has the right to act like an adult every once in awhile. Which, ironically, usually entails behaving unbelievably childishly, but whatever.
Here comes the tie back to Vick, professional athletes seem to be steadily making poorer and poorer decisions, which is particularly alarming consider nearly all professional sports are enjoying some of the best ratings they’ve had in years.
Wait...Shaq asking Kobe how his ass tastes in a freestyle rap is somehow even remotely comparable to what Michael Vick did? Come on, let's at least try to be sensible here. Oh, and this barely makes any sense. I mean, like, at all. Leaving aside the run-on vibe and the mechanical errors (that should be "considering" up there, and that's without even really looking at it), none of the points in that sentence even begin to logically connect. Michael Vick...poor decisions...still great ratings? What...the...fuck?
So for the rest of the population making a living off of their sport, please find a way to act with more decorum than Shaq. That shouldn’t be too hard.
Or, alternately, for those of us following sports, we could admit these are all real people with real lives, and decide either to enjoy this sort of off-screen stuff or ignore it. Seems only fair.
ABOUT THE SAME
Although Michael Beasley was, in my opinion at least, the best player in the NBA draft, he didn’t go first. Brandon Rush went higher than expected, Darrell Arthur went lower and somehow Mario Chalmers slipped out of the first round. I’m sorry to break it to anyone who spent hours of their night watching the draft, but it doesn’t really matter.
Well...it might matter if your team made a terrible selection. Or, if you prefer me to feign optimism, an awesome pick. It certainly matters to me who Chicago chose (although obviously it mattered even more than usual this year). Judging by all the Kansas-related players, I'm guessing Sara Mettlen is approaching this from a collegiate perspective, from which, yeah, it doesn't really matter who goes where as long as they get drafted. But from a professional perspective? It matters a huge fucking deal who goes where.
Until all the trades are finalized you don’t even really know where a guy is going to be playing next year.
Yeah...that's true, but it certainly narrows it down a little, right? I mean, I didn't really bother watching the draft because it's, you know, boring, but I certainly followed it.
A caveat to the it doesn’t matter remark, it does matter in monetary terms for the players themselves, but to fans not so much.
Again...I'd guess a good 85-90% of draftees end up playing (if they ever play at all) for the team that picked them. So yeah, it does matter to fans. Fans of the teams that picked them.
Trades aside, where a player goes in the draft doesn’t necessarily match up with how well he does once he’s in the league. After all, Michael Jordan went No. 3 and the current league MVP Kobe Bryant went No. 13.
Is it just me, or is she arguing two different things here? First that it doesn't matter where a player gets taken, and then also it doesn't matter who selects them. Because maybe I'll grant the first point, but the second one seems, well, kinda dumb.
Ah well, I guess it's all good. And once again, happy belated birthday Michael!
Sunday, June 22, 2008
52 52 52 Week #18: Georgia
In which I examine crappy local sports journalism on a state-by-state basis, progressing through the states in terms of an alphabetical ordering of the heights of their tallest points. Because I can.
Not the best of weeks here at Fire Everybody! A fun NBA finals has given way to the inevitable doldrums of mid-summer sports, and my recent self-indulgence has probably reflected the fact that, well, there isn't all that much to say. So, I'm tinkering with the notion of going to the following format for the foreseeable future (hey - alliteration!)...
Sunday: 52 52 52
Wednesday: A staggeringly brilliant new feature combining two of my greatest loves...more info to follow
Friday: A rambling piece on some general point of interest to me in the world of sports
We'll see whether this works, and if there's anything of interest that pops up otherwise, I'll certainly post, and of course Passive and Djmmm can do what they like. But still, if you're trying to figure out when to check the site, do know that new content should be appearing on those days.
OK, with that out of the way, let's talk about everybody's favorite 4,784 foot highpoint, Georgia's awesomely named Brasstown Bald. This may be the first highpoint that sounds like the name of a '30s pulp hero, which is something I'm definitely in favor of. Some other, more factual facts coming up...
1. The mountain is apparently most made up of soapstone and dunite. Don't know what dunite is? Well, it "is an igneous, plutonic rock, of ultramafic composition, with coarse-grained or phaneritic texture." Huh. That cleared that up. Let's just all agree soapstone is a stone made out of soap, yes?
2. Although this may not be terribly surprising, there isn't actually any brass in Brasstown Bald. Instead, it gets its name "was derived by a simple Cherokee translation error by white settlers. Sounding very similar, settlers confused the word "Itse'yĭ" (New Green Place or Place of Fresh Green) with "Ûňtsaiyĭ" (Brass). Itse'yĭ, New Green Place, was used to describe the top of the mountain, as it was grassy and devoid of trees." Doesn't Wikipedia just know everything?
3. Wikipedia tells us, "The U.S. Forest Service has webcams atop the Observation tower." Of course, gold members of the U.S. Forest Service can watch live shows with Brasstown Bald, and platinum members can even chat with it and make requests. Want to see some soil erosion? You bet your perverted ass you do. But you best pay up. All major credit cards accepted.
After the disaster that was last week's entry, I'm playing things safe and going with the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Admittedly, this stretches the definition of "local" journalism to almost ridiculous proportions, as I'm pretty sure I'd have to consider the South "local" for this to count, but whatever. Terence Moore is your writer, and the Atlanta Braves are your topic. Well, that and the phantom panic. Why do I say phantom? All will be explained. All I say!
(Was that melodramatic enough? I'm going for huge here, you know.)
Young Braves must not panic
I have to admit, this is a premise that I pretty much immediately dislike. "Panic" is one of those things, like "team chemistry" or "grittiness" that gets invented to explain a team's failure or success, when really it's probably at most like .5% of the reason. But hell, I'm here now, so I might as well follow through.
Even though the baseball season will reach its midway point by the end of the week, the struggling and aching Braves aren’t panicking, and they shouldn’t.
I think this sentence might hold the whole key to the Atlanta Braves. After all, they might be struggling because they're aching, and any notion of panicking is just faulty causation. Maybe. But again, I'm jumping the gun here; I should at least wait for some evidence.
It’s still early. Not only that, the National League East isn’t a scary place. The division-leading Philadelphia Phillies and the surprising Florida Marlins are a collapse waiting to happen. You also have the New York Mets, the NL’s most dysfunctional team, and the Washington Nationals, as ghastly as advertised.
I dunno, PECOTA seems to agree with you on the Marlins, seeing as how they're currently pegged for an 81-81 final record (sorry Djmmm), but the Phillies? PECOTA has them at 89-73, and that's taking into consideration all the problems they've already had. At this point, the Phillies really figure to either stay about the same or get better, and either will likely be good enough to win the division. Of course, PECOTA is imperfect (and, by that, I really should say a Monte Carlo simulation run a million times every day is imperfect), but I can't get on board with the Phillies being "a collapse waiting to happen." The Braves are going to need to go on a bit of a tear at some point relatively soon to give themselves a good chance. You can't really count on the biggest collapse in baseball history happening yearly in the same division.
Oh, and "The...Phillies and the...Marlins are a collapse waiting to happen"? Tsk tsk on the number agreement there, Mr. Moore.
Plus, despite the Braves’ woes, which were interrupted Saturday night at Turner Field with a 5-4 thriller over the Seattle Mariners after scoring twice in the bottom of the ninth, they have as much talent as anybody. That’s why they’ve stayed among the league’s top two in hitting and pitching for weeks. They’ve also yet to hit their stride. Even so, they began Saturday night just six games out of first, and they have the pleasure of knowing that one or more of their wounded will return at various points to help them spurt.
That sounds like reasonable stuff. I'll readily admit I haven't been closely following the Braves (I'm saving most of my baseball energy for a certain team in the NL Central that PECOTA thinks is bound for a 99-63 record), but I can't really object too much. Indeed, it seems like a perfectly serviceable column could be built around the fact that, for a bunch of reasons, the Braves are due to bounce back (perhaps also acknowledging the same is true of the Mets, as evidenced by their near-identical PECOTA records). Unfortunately, the title really seems to promise some tripe on "panicking." Still, titles usually aren't made up by the writer, so maybe it's just an honest mistake and this article really is that perfectly serviceable (if mediocre) column I was envisioning. Could it be that, for once, I was wrong?
No, the Braves aren’t panicking, but will they, especially if that spurt doesn’t happen sooner rather than later?
Nope. Why must I be so cursed with always being right!?
Oh well. Let's consider the evidence.
“It’s hard not to expect them to [panic], because they’re young and they haven’t had the experience of winning as much as we have and did,” said Tom Glavine, the Braves’ future Hall of Fame pitcher, in his 21st season in the majors.
Exhibit A: A future Hall of Fame pitcher finds it hard not to expect [panic].
“You’re young, and you’re looking around at a team that doesn’t resemble the one that we thought we’d have coming out of spring training. You have all the injuries, especially to the pitching staff. It would be really easy to look at it and feel sorry for yourselves and say, ‘Well, geez. Look at all the stuff we have to deal with and how we’re going to win?’ But you can’t think that way.”
Exhibit B: Said future Hall of Fame pitcher notes injuries and changed expectations, expects fifties-style swearing (i.e. "geez") to break out any minute.
The Braves aren’t thinking that way.
Exhibit C: They're not panicking.
Then again, they are getting close.
Exhibit D: But they could!
After they dropped the opener of this series to a Mariners bunch so wretched that it fired its general manager and manager during the past few days, the Braves had lost 18 of the previous 28 games. They’ve had trouble winning on the road and grabbing one-run games. They’ve also had too many innings that resembled the first inning Saturday night that had the Mariners scoring thrice courtesy of two booted balls at shortstop and a wild pitch.
Exhibit E: They have, of late, been struggling.
(And if you read the word "struggling" like Tony Reali does on Around the Horn, well...want to join my support group? We meet regularly, and there are cookies!)
Come to think of it, maybe the Braves are panicking — you know, a little.
Exhibit F: Struggling leads to panicking. Or maybe panicking leads to struggling. Either way, Q motherfucking E motherfucking D.
“There are guys like Glav [Tom Glavine], and [John] Smoltz and Chipper [Jones] who have that not-panic attitude,” said Braves right fielder Jeff Francoeur of the trio that survived the peaks and valleys associated with most or all of the Braves’ record trip to 14 consecutive division titles through 2005.
Exhibit G: At least 12% of the 25-man roster has that not-panic attitude, conferring on them immunity to panic. If I can turn around a trusty old scientific aphorism, evidence of absence is evidence of panic. So there! Panic it is!
It’s just that the rest of the 25-man roster is a novice at such things.
Exhibit H: The rest of them, having not won most or all of 14 consecutive division titles, are still susceptible to panic. This is why part of astronaut training is to sign a ten-day contract with the 1997 Braves. You know, just to soak up that division-winning goodness and ward off panic attacks.
What? How else do you explain Greg Myers and Tim Spehr?
Which is why Francoeur said, “You have guys like myself, where, it’s not so much panic, but we want to get it done now and get back in it. So, we don’t want to say, ‘Hey, if we keep playing our butts off now, come August, we’ll be back in it.’ I don’t like to say that, because I like to say we need to win now.”
Exhibit I: Francoeur and the rest of the young Braves aren't really panicking, but they want to win. If that isn't conclusive evidence of panic, I don't know what is.
(I don't know what is.)
The Braves aren’t winning now, at least not consistently. “Still, even with our injuries, we’ve had guys come in here to show that they can carry the load, and that’s what your mind-set has to be,” said Glavine, who won’t pitch for a month or so after damaging his 42-year-old left elbow. In addition, Smoltz is out for the season after shoulder surgery. Then there is Jones, who reinjured a quadriceps that will keep him out of the Braves’ starting lineup for the next few days and that manager Bobby Cox said may never improve.
Exhibit J: They have injuries, but "guys [have] come in here to show that they can carry the load." Oh yeah, that'd be panic right there.
I'm sure, based on all that evidence, you can only agree with one inescapable conclusion:
That leaves those Braves not named Glavine, Smoltz or Jones to play and not panic through this mess. That’s the problem, and that’s a big one.
I can find no fault with that. Logic at its finest, yes sir!
Not the best of weeks here at Fire Everybody! A fun NBA finals has given way to the inevitable doldrums of mid-summer sports, and my recent self-indulgence has probably reflected the fact that, well, there isn't all that much to say. So, I'm tinkering with the notion of going to the following format for the foreseeable future (hey - alliteration!)...
Sunday: 52 52 52
Wednesday: A staggeringly brilliant new feature combining two of my greatest loves...more info to follow
Friday: A rambling piece on some general point of interest to me in the world of sports
We'll see whether this works, and if there's anything of interest that pops up otherwise, I'll certainly post, and of course Passive and Djmmm can do what they like. But still, if you're trying to figure out when to check the site, do know that new content should be appearing on those days.
OK, with that out of the way, let's talk about everybody's favorite 4,784 foot highpoint, Georgia's awesomely named Brasstown Bald. This may be the first highpoint that sounds like the name of a '30s pulp hero, which is something I'm definitely in favor of. Some other, more factual facts coming up...
1. The mountain is apparently most made up of soapstone and dunite. Don't know what dunite is? Well, it "is an igneous, plutonic rock, of ultramafic composition, with coarse-grained or phaneritic texture." Huh. That cleared that up. Let's just all agree soapstone is a stone made out of soap, yes?
2. Although this may not be terribly surprising, there isn't actually any brass in Brasstown Bald. Instead, it gets its name "was derived by a simple Cherokee translation error by white settlers. Sounding very similar, settlers confused the word "Itse'yĭ" (New Green Place or Place of Fresh Green) with "Ûňtsaiyĭ" (Brass). Itse'yĭ, New Green Place, was used to describe the top of the mountain, as it was grassy and devoid of trees." Doesn't Wikipedia just know everything?
3. Wikipedia tells us, "The U.S. Forest Service has webcams atop the Observation tower." Of course, gold members of the U.S. Forest Service can watch live shows with Brasstown Bald, and platinum members can even chat with it and make requests. Want to see some soil erosion? You bet your perverted ass you do. But you best pay up. All major credit cards accepted.
After the disaster that was last week's entry, I'm playing things safe and going with the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Admittedly, this stretches the definition of "local" journalism to almost ridiculous proportions, as I'm pretty sure I'd have to consider the South "local" for this to count, but whatever. Terence Moore is your writer, and the Atlanta Braves are your topic. Well, that and the phantom panic. Why do I say phantom? All will be explained. All I say!
(Was that melodramatic enough? I'm going for huge here, you know.)
Young Braves must not panic
I have to admit, this is a premise that I pretty much immediately dislike. "Panic" is one of those things, like "team chemistry" or "grittiness" that gets invented to explain a team's failure or success, when really it's probably at most like .5% of the reason. But hell, I'm here now, so I might as well follow through.
Even though the baseball season will reach its midway point by the end of the week, the struggling and aching Braves aren’t panicking, and they shouldn’t.
I think this sentence might hold the whole key to the Atlanta Braves. After all, they might be struggling because they're aching, and any notion of panicking is just faulty causation. Maybe. But again, I'm jumping the gun here; I should at least wait for some evidence.
It’s still early. Not only that, the National League East isn’t a scary place. The division-leading Philadelphia Phillies and the surprising Florida Marlins are a collapse waiting to happen. You also have the New York Mets, the NL’s most dysfunctional team, and the Washington Nationals, as ghastly as advertised.
I dunno, PECOTA seems to agree with you on the Marlins, seeing as how they're currently pegged for an 81-81 final record (sorry Djmmm), but the Phillies? PECOTA has them at 89-73, and that's taking into consideration all the problems they've already had. At this point, the Phillies really figure to either stay about the same or get better, and either will likely be good enough to win the division. Of course, PECOTA is imperfect (and, by that, I really should say a Monte Carlo simulation run a million times every day is imperfect), but I can't get on board with the Phillies being "a collapse waiting to happen." The Braves are going to need to go on a bit of a tear at some point relatively soon to give themselves a good chance. You can't really count on the biggest collapse in baseball history happening yearly in the same division.
Oh, and "The...Phillies and the...Marlins are a collapse waiting to happen"? Tsk tsk on the number agreement there, Mr. Moore.
Plus, despite the Braves’ woes, which were interrupted Saturday night at Turner Field with a 5-4 thriller over the Seattle Mariners after scoring twice in the bottom of the ninth, they have as much talent as anybody. That’s why they’ve stayed among the league’s top two in hitting and pitching for weeks. They’ve also yet to hit their stride. Even so, they began Saturday night just six games out of first, and they have the pleasure of knowing that one or more of their wounded will return at various points to help them spurt.
That sounds like reasonable stuff. I'll readily admit I haven't been closely following the Braves (I'm saving most of my baseball energy for a certain team in the NL Central that PECOTA thinks is bound for a 99-63 record), but I can't really object too much. Indeed, it seems like a perfectly serviceable column could be built around the fact that, for a bunch of reasons, the Braves are due to bounce back (perhaps also acknowledging the same is true of the Mets, as evidenced by their near-identical PECOTA records). Unfortunately, the title really seems to promise some tripe on "panicking." Still, titles usually aren't made up by the writer, so maybe it's just an honest mistake and this article really is that perfectly serviceable (if mediocre) column I was envisioning. Could it be that, for once, I was wrong?
No, the Braves aren’t panicking, but will they, especially if that spurt doesn’t happen sooner rather than later?
Nope. Why must I be so cursed with always being right!?
Oh well. Let's consider the evidence.
“It’s hard not to expect them to [panic], because they’re young and they haven’t had the experience of winning as much as we have and did,” said Tom Glavine, the Braves’ future Hall of Fame pitcher, in his 21st season in the majors.
Exhibit A: A future Hall of Fame pitcher finds it hard not to expect [panic].
“You’re young, and you’re looking around at a team that doesn’t resemble the one that we thought we’d have coming out of spring training. You have all the injuries, especially to the pitching staff. It would be really easy to look at it and feel sorry for yourselves and say, ‘Well, geez. Look at all the stuff we have to deal with and how we’re going to win?’ But you can’t think that way.”
Exhibit B: Said future Hall of Fame pitcher notes injuries and changed expectations, expects fifties-style swearing (i.e. "geez") to break out any minute.
The Braves aren’t thinking that way.
Exhibit C: They're not panicking.
Then again, they are getting close.
Exhibit D: But they could!
After they dropped the opener of this series to a Mariners bunch so wretched that it fired its general manager and manager during the past few days, the Braves had lost 18 of the previous 28 games. They’ve had trouble winning on the road and grabbing one-run games. They’ve also had too many innings that resembled the first inning Saturday night that had the Mariners scoring thrice courtesy of two booted balls at shortstop and a wild pitch.
Exhibit E: They have, of late, been struggling.
(And if you read the word "struggling" like Tony Reali does on Around the Horn, well...want to join my support group? We meet regularly, and there are cookies!)
Come to think of it, maybe the Braves are panicking — you know, a little.
Exhibit F: Struggling leads to panicking. Or maybe panicking leads to struggling. Either way, Q motherfucking E motherfucking D.
“There are guys like Glav [Tom Glavine], and [John] Smoltz and Chipper [Jones] who have that not-panic attitude,” said Braves right fielder Jeff Francoeur of the trio that survived the peaks and valleys associated with most or all of the Braves’ record trip to 14 consecutive division titles through 2005.
Exhibit G: At least 12% of the 25-man roster has that not-panic attitude, conferring on them immunity to panic. If I can turn around a trusty old scientific aphorism, evidence of absence is evidence of panic. So there! Panic it is!
It’s just that the rest of the 25-man roster is a novice at such things.
Exhibit H: The rest of them, having not won most or all of 14 consecutive division titles, are still susceptible to panic. This is why part of astronaut training is to sign a ten-day contract with the 1997 Braves. You know, just to soak up that division-winning goodness and ward off panic attacks.
What? How else do you explain Greg Myers and Tim Spehr?
Which is why Francoeur said, “You have guys like myself, where, it’s not so much panic, but we want to get it done now and get back in it. So, we don’t want to say, ‘Hey, if we keep playing our butts off now, come August, we’ll be back in it.’ I don’t like to say that, because I like to say we need to win now.”
Exhibit I: Francoeur and the rest of the young Braves aren't really panicking, but they want to win. If that isn't conclusive evidence of panic, I don't know what is.
(I don't know what is.)
The Braves aren’t winning now, at least not consistently. “Still, even with our injuries, we’ve had guys come in here to show that they can carry the load, and that’s what your mind-set has to be,” said Glavine, who won’t pitch for a month or so after damaging his 42-year-old left elbow. In addition, Smoltz is out for the season after shoulder surgery. Then there is Jones, who reinjured a quadriceps that will keep him out of the Braves’ starting lineup for the next few days and that manager Bobby Cox said may never improve.
Exhibit J: They have injuries, but "guys [have] come in here to show that they can carry the load." Oh yeah, that'd be panic right there.
I'm sure, based on all that evidence, you can only agree with one inescapable conclusion:
That leaves those Braves not named Glavine, Smoltz or Jones to play and not panic through this mess. That’s the problem, and that’s a big one.
I can find no fault with that. Logic at its finest, yes sir!
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