One Down...

"I liked the Steelers in '75
I only like the Broncos when they come alive
I liked the Redskins in '83
And when the Dolphins are playing well yeah well, they're the team for me
'cause I'm Fairweather Johnson (Johnson)
Yeah, yes I'm Fairweather Johnson (I liked the Braves in '95)"
--Fairweather Johnson, Hootie & the Blowfish

One of the greatest non-album album tracks of all time, no doubt. After one day of the MLB playoffs, it's funny to see the rapidly fluctuating sentiments of So Cal baseball fans--Dodgers and Angels, both down 1-0, but is it really over? These are indeed five-game series, so all three losers yesterday (the aformentioned two and the Yankees) definitely needn't be too worried. Those Angel fans that can think as far back as two years ago will recall that the Halos lost all three Game Ones en route to the World Series title. They've got Colon going against Pedro (who isn't the Pedro of old), so they should be fine. I still don't think they'll win the series, but they'll make it competitive.
The Dodgers, on the other hand, are in a little deeper hole. They looked awful yesterday, and Perez was supposed to be the one guy who could actually make a quality start for them. Now they've got Weaver (maybe), Lima (less maybe) and ??? Not so good. Plus they evidently can't hit until the 8th or 9th innings, which doesn't come in too handy when you've already given up like 10 homers.
You had to know the Yanks weren't going to beat Johan Santana, but they actually hit him pretty well; Torii and the Twins' defense just wouldn't let anyone score. Santana made what was probably his worst start since the all-star break and still shut out the Yankees. He'll come back better next time, whether that's in Game 4 or 5, and if Radke and/or Silva can make a decent showing, the Twins are advancing. Give Mussina credit too, 'cause he looked much better than I thought he would, but the homer to Jacque Jones was a crusher. I continue to be amazed by Torii Hunter out there in center. He could hit .100 and still be one of the most valuable centerfielders in the game. Throwing a guy out at the plate saved one run and then robbing A-Rod of a homer saved another--that's an extra-inning game if he's not at his best out there. Wow.
So I just joined MySpace, at the request of Mr. Sideburn, and I'm not exactly sure what I hope to accomplish there, but I'm sure something will result. I'm no good at self-promotion, so my "About Me" section is probably as weak as it gets. I'm thinking that someone who reads these blogs on a regular basis will be able to understand who I am better than one who reads a couple poorly-written sentences on a profile. So I'll be making an effort to update this more frequently in the interests of A) self-disclosure and B) increased creative output.
Since my movie list has finally been completed (and High Fidelity has been added to my to-do list this weekend), I think I can safely move on and start up another list, one of the several I referenced like three months ago. Let's see...I think I'll go with the most embarassing moments of my life. Thankfully, Side has been present for three of them and has made it seem like he's been there for all four. Here we go...
4. Side and I were coaching the varsity basketball team one spring, I think during my brother Mike's senior year, and whoever was supposed to be coaching (Jeff Stephens? PG?) wasn't there. I had heard that Danny Bush played with the team the week before, and came with my basketball shoes on, just in case. So stupid. Anyways, the game was nearing the finish, LC was trailing some athletic team, and yours truly decides to check into the ballgame. One whole possession: I dribbled up the court, loose handle, got picked and ran back down the court next to the guy, who proceeded to dunk--right on my head--about two seconds before time expired. Ouch. As red-faced as I've ever been, I had to face the team, Side, and the parents who came to watch their kids--not me--play basketball. One of the dads walked up and put his arm around me, saying something to the effect of, "You don't have it like you used to, do you?" I also had to face Coach Hofman the next week, and of course he wasn't happy about it either. Definitely something I should not have done.
3. Side came to visit me in Westwood and we went up to the soccer house to hang out with the guys, two of whom would be my roommates the following year. We were having a good time and eventually made it into the back room where some fooseball was being played. I stepped up against Shea Travis and lost a tight one, 10-9, so I naturally asked for--and was granted--a rematch. Down 4-0 early, the game started to get in my head. I knew what a shutout would mean, so I fought desperately to get at least one goal and spare myself the humiliation. As more people became aware of the fate that would befall me, more noise and more distraction permeated the event. I had no chance. Trailing 9-0, I basically fell apart, scoring an own goal to lose the game and get skunked. After a phone call from my buddy Kevin to alert the entire apartment complex across the street (they were having a party over there, so attracting an audience was no problem), the group of use headed outside and I swallowed my pride. I dropped my pants and made a nice little run up and down the street, to the cheers of many and the delight of none, I'm sure. Needless to say, I've refrained from future naked-incentive fooseball matches ever since.
I have two more that will have to wait until tomorrow, since work beckons...