The Aftermath

"This is the millenium of Aftermath,
It ain't gonna be nothin after that"
--Forgot About Dre, Dr. Dre

Sunday was a lovely day--church in the morning, reading and guitar (learning some Toad), then the beach all afternoon (I'm quite red as a result, unfortunately). Phil was hosting a huge Memorial Weekend Beirut tournament, the likes of which our poor neighborhood had definitely never seen. I hung out for a while then headed up to Perrault's house in Westchester for a little barbecue and various activities. Turns out I might be writing some sports content for a website Kevin and Lars are developing, which should be a cool thing. Also teamed with Lars to beat Kevin and Kevin at ping pong, two out of three--solid effort.
Got home from there around midnight and I can't begin to describe the carnage left in the tournament's wake (this is the basis for the aftermath reference, if that was heretofore unclear). I took some pictures so the wasteland would be preserved in some form for posterity, because it truly had to be seen to be believed. Kegs, cups, chairs and other assorted items strewn across the backyard as if left there by a tornado or some other similar natural disaster. Wow.
Somehow managed to miss the Eastern Conference Finals (darn), which were replayed on ESPN late-night. Imagine a score like 83-65, that was really surprising to see. Neither team has even scored 90 points once in this series. It's pitiful. I'm not sure which is worse, Ron Artest's jumper right now or the combined jump-shooting prowess of Indiana's pass-first, please-don't-shoot point guard duo, Jamaal Tinsley and Anthony Johnson. Even when the Lakers advance today (and they will), it's going to be hard to watch the NBA Finals, knowing that an Eastern Conference team will be involved. So stinkin' ugly.
Missed the Indy 500 too, which hasn't captured me like NASCAR. Maybe it'll take some pit passes and a luxury suite at one of those IRL races to get me on that bandwagon. For now, it's Junior and the neck-car circuit that have my attention. Jimmie Johnson (not Jimmy Johnson) was on the pole and won the Coca-Cola 600, narrowing Junior's lead atop the overall Nextel Cup Series standings. People who have yet to experience NASCAR need to give it a shot. I knocked it until I tried it, and Side and I have been converted for life.
The Padres (or the Fathers, as Venouziou puts it) won again yesterday, maintaining their one-game lead over the Dodgers and keeping a cushion on the streaking Giants. He didn't play yesterday, but people need to do to Barry Bonds what Jack McKeon did a few weeks ago: four intentional walks in four plate appearances. Occasionally Pedro Feliz or Edgardo Alfonzo are going to make you pay, but I'm fairly certain that their "occasionally" would be far outweighed by Bonds' absurd .616 on-base percentage. Don't ever pitch to that guy--my boy Jake Peavy got away with it once and struck him out looking (walked him the other two times up), but he could afford to with rather substantial lead.
Memorial Day baseball (and xbox) all day, barbecue in LC and Lake Show tonight. Peace.