Injury to Insult

"I'm not trying to fake it
And I ain't the one to blame
There's no one home
In my house of pain"
--House of Pain, Faster Pussycat

I honestly can't recall a more painful morning--and don't worry, no Randy Johnson allegories, this is in the physical sense--and it's pain as widespread as I've ever had. Let's tick down the list, courtesy of three-plus hours of basketball, the last of which provided as much of an emotional whipping as the physical (I'll get into the gory details later).
- Tweaked ankle: it's not a sprain, because I've had my fair share, and I've done many far worse than this one, but it's quite tender and I certainly can't run on it (had to walk fast on the treadmill this morning as a result; I love trying to keep up with the old ladies). Happened during last night's game, but it wasn't bad enough (at the time) to get me out, so I kept on playing. Based on the final score, I might as well have been sitting the whole time--made no difference.
- A nice gash on the inside of my right bicep: it's seriously two inches long and about a half-inch wide, coming (I suppose) from a fingernail or two last night, but I honestly don't remember that one at all. Makes Nick Van Exel's lip scar look like a shaving cut. Looks like it even bled a little bit, but the refs didn't notice (HIV rule), so it was cool.
- Bruised clavicle: that one sounds pretty bad, and actually it is pretty bad. I'm not an extremely well-built young man (not enough meat on my bones, you know?), so hard contact to bony regions is going to result in some pain. I tried to take a charge on like the second or third defensive possession of the game (that was pretty much the only defensive thing I was good at in high school--and all the acting and yelling and flopping that goes along with it--so I've held onto it as I've grown older) and ended up with a shoulder directly to the collarbone and no charge to show for it (evidently B. Stevens fouled him right before--thanks buddy). I couldn't do any chest exercises this morning and there's about a five-by-five region (including a portion of the sternum) that is incredibly sensitive to the touch right now.
- Bruised hip: I get these every week anyway (again, the lack of meat thing), as a result of diving for loose balls and stuff like that, so this is nothing new. But it still hurts.
- Bad shoe pain: I've been meaning to buy new basketball shoes for about six years (slight to moderate exaggeration), so the balls of my feet are pained at the conclusion of any and all basketball activity. I wear two pairs of socks, but I think I could wear like nine pairs and it wouldn't matter; I'm practically touching the floor.
- Aching lower back: I think that's just 'cause I'm old.
So yeah, the "injury" portion--hopefully very clearly illustrated--was added to the insult of a 12-point loss last night, our first of the league season and a complete debacle in every facet of the game. We were pretty much the Washington Generals out there, looking like none of us had ever even played the game--at least 30 turnovers, shooting less than 30% from the floor, and just looking lost for about 15 minutes at a time. We'll rebound (in a literal and figurative sense) next week, so, to paraphrase Homer J. Simpson, "Let us never speak of the game again."
Another fun element to the weekend (yes, despite all of its potential evils, basketball is always fun) was the re-involvement in this video project I've been working on for my Dad's birthday (March 20). It's a documentary-style tribute to his basketball playing and coaching career, driven completely by commentary from his former coaches, teammates and players. I got some new footage on Sunday (and some new knowledge about the editing program from my buddy Jason), so I was able to go in and make some more stuff happen. I'm hoping for it to end up about 20 minutes in length, which should make a nice gift, as long as it all comes together in time.
Despite my stated desire to branch out in the content of the blog, I must continue to express my excitement and opinions in relation to significant (to me) sporting events and stories, the most notable of which (from this past weekend) is the Bruins' possible emergence as a tournament team following a huge win in South Bend. Granted, they couldn't finish the game strong, but they led wire to wire and beat a good Big East team on the road. I'm quite proud. If we take care of both Oregon schools at home this coming weekend, I think we're definitely in. If not, we might need a couple wins in the conference tourney, but I'd prefer we avoid that route, if at all possible. Farmar and Afflalo (who displayed their dominance over Pruitt and Young last Thursday, by the way) continue to improve and become more and more consistent, which will be a huge factor in the squad's success the rest of the way.
Saw "Mystic River" over the weekend (I'm a couple years behind in seeing Oscar-nominated movies; I'm sure I'll get to "Ray" by the time Jamie Foxx actually is blind), which was a dark, dark film, the type I don't normally enjoy. Something about this one was different (maybe these Academy folks were onto something), probably the tremendous performance by Sean Penn, and these little tough guys the Savage brothers adding some occasional unintentional comedy. The chick who plays Tim Robbins' wife (her character's name is Celeste) does a great job of being the most paranoid, annoying, confused woman in the history of film. I hated her character, which, I realized after watching, means she did a great job. Long movie, but hey, I had a long Saturday with nothing to do until the evening (I'm really enjoying this "having a weekend" thing), so it was no thing.
Closing on a more serious note: talked to a friend I hadn't spoken with in several months and found out that she recently had an abortion. Wow. If there is a more sobering story to hear from a friend, I don't want to know what it is. It's one of those times when you can't really say anything that will sound right, so it's just "I'm so sorry" and "Wow" over and over. It's a tough balance of knowing that there is obviously responsibility and culpability on her part, but wanting above all just to show sympathy (not empathy) and being thankful that everything has turned out okay.

The Breakdown

"I'd love to sit and rationalize
But my tongue's become dry
It seems I'm losing ground
Welcome all to my disciplined breakdown"
--Disciplined Breakdown, Collective Soul

In poring through the avalanche of comments (4) that have come down in the last couple days, it appears that a slight reevaluation of this writer's motivation and content is in order, and it's a worthwhile process to undergo, no doubt. The subject matter has been roughly 95% sports (with exceptions here and there: music, movies, bible study, books), and so I thought I'd first attempt to ascertain the involvement percentage of sports in my daily life and then proceed to expand my horizons as we move forward. "Moving forward" is a phrase thrown around all the time here at work, encouraging us to learn from mistakes and from things that don't work on the show in order to make it a better product from here on out. I vow to do the same with the blog, thanks to Suss and Side (and other Suss for the affirmation of the sporting element), moving forward.
On a typical weekday, here's the hour-by-hour breakdown:
5 a.m. - wake up, breakfast, quiet time, dress for the gym (I can't look at this word without thinking of Homer asking, "What's a gime?," then walking inside, seeing all the weights, and still mispronouncing it, "Oh, a gime."--spelled incorrectly so you get the mistake made by Homer)
5:30 a.m. - depart for the gym
6:00 a.m. - work out
7:00 a.m. - shower, get dressed, purchase breakfast burrito (not even close to the Lucky Boy variety; it's a much smaller mix of egg whites, turkey and avocado)
7:30 a.m. - arrive at work, check e-mail and voicemail, attempt to blog
8:00 a.m. - morning meeting, followed by a nice long work day
7:00 p.m. (or thereabouts) - depart from work, utilize drive time for cell phone usage
7:45 p.m. - arrive home, make tomorrow's lunch, pack gym bag for tomorrow, watch Lakers or Bruins or Clippers or other game (if no game, then no TV)
9:00 p.m. - eat final meal of the day (microwaved taquitos or lean pocket, occasionally followed by a strawberry popsicle for dessert), watch 24 or West Wing (if Monday or Wednesday; if not, then no TV)
10:00 p.m. - write in journal, read (currently Red Auerbach book)
10:30 p.m. - sleepy time
Wednesday nights vary slightly because of bible study (7:30-9), Tuesday nights occasionally include church (8:30-10), and there's probably one or two nights a week (more like one now without the dates) with various other activities--LC or UCLA basketball, out with guys from work, etc.).
In the most basic of days, work occupies more than 50% of my waking hours, and I'm only home (excluding sleep) for three hours a day at the most, often less than that. It's an interesting view to step back and look at the life I'm living, realizing how different everything was 18 months ago (at Ralphs) and then three years ago (at LCPC). I know I couldn't handle doing either of those jobs to the extent where I'd only be home (or accessible to friends) three hours a day, so this must be the right path for me, because I'm still loving every day of it.
Today at work (and every Friday for the forseeable future), we get Carls Jr. catered for lunch, because Hardee's (same company, evidently) has become a sponsor of the show (the "Hardee's Hot Topic," which today revolves around Randy Moss). Part of the agreement, evidently, was having them feed the whole staff every Friday, which is a pretty cool deal--free food always is--but a struggle for me and my ridiculous eating habits.
As I packed my lunch last night (which actually is much more than lunch; it's a post-workout protein bar and three more meals for the rest of the day, all coming after that breakfast burrito), I thought about leaving one of the meals out so I could have some Carls, but it's a strange thing--I honestly can't convince myself to want that fast food. It's in the same category as desserts (those Trader Joe popsicles excepted), which have been excluded from my diet for years. There's some pyschoanalysis that could go into this process, which deserves some space at some point, but not now--meeting's about to start.
My quick sports thought for today, before I go: Debate raging today about the relative merit of Allen Iverson and Scottie Pippen on the list of the NBA's all-time greats. I am of the opinion that Scottie is the greatest defensive swingman of all time, and therefore deserves mention with the very best small forwards ever (Larry Bird is obviously better, Elgin Baylor also; not too many others can be unequivocally considered as such). AI is the second-greatest (maybe third) little man ever, at this point behind only Isiah, but until now, he's never had a teammate as good as Zeke's Bad Boys (I don't include John Salley, but Joe Dumars, Bill Laimbeer and Mark Aguirre--heck, even Rodman--are all better than anyone Iverson's played with). He got Philly to the Finals in '01 with nobody--Eric Snow and Aaron McKie were his two best teammates, right? Certainly not Mutombo. Both guys don't get the proper respect on the all-time spectrum, and I hope that the arrival of C-Webb means the Sixers not only win the Atlantic Division, but make some noise in the playoffs as well. The little guy deserves it.

But Seriously...

"Things are never gonna be the way you want
Where's it gonna get you acting serious?
Things are never gonna be quite what you want
Or even at 25, you gotta start sometime"
--A Praise Chorus, Jimmy Eat World

Probably my favorite Jimmy song, though "Kill" on the new album is fast approaching and "Authority Song" has staying power as well. Heard it at the gym this morning and was reminded once again about the lack of need for seriousity (I don't think that's a real word) in this life ("Where's it gonna get you acting serious?"). A quick top ten of Jimmy songs--but first, this requires a quick sidebar: Jimmy Eat World has earned one-name status in my lexicon, and I think that to most people with whom I associate, it's a clear correlation. To some people, however, "Jimmy" would connotate Jimi Hendrix, maybe Jimmy Buffett to others (you know that cover was money), and perhaps even Jimmy Cliff to a select few. Jimmie's Chicken Shack? Anyone? I've come to realize that only one person at a time can really occupy a name in your mind, friends, family, musicians or athletes included. Some are unique enough that there won't be any competition (Kobe, Shaq), but there are plenty others that demand a decision and a hierarchy. Obviously I have number one slots reserved for Michael and Jeffrey; that goes without saying. Mike, which is different, would go to B, and then I'd have to alter the remaining Mikes by adding a last name or just using the last name (Langford, Heckman, Hughes, etc.). Nicknames are helpful here too, as being able to say "Side" is much simpler than having to worry about which Daniel I'm referring to, Niemann, the one in the lions' den, or otherwise. Sometimes it has to vary depending on company, because there are a bunch of names I'll use at work that won't have the same connotation when I leave. "Joel" refers to one of my friends at work, a guy who I play basketball with on occasion, but for the vast majority of people in my life, it's a different Joel, the one who goes to Boston U. and plays a mean drum set. When it comes to athletes and entertainers, there is also some confusion, as demonstrated by the following pairings: Luke or Luc LT or LT? Peyton or Payton? Edge or The Edge? Chucky or Chucky (Atkins or Gruden)? This is all quite meaningless (and it ended up being far more than a quick sidebar), but one of my co-workers said "Hendrix" yesterday when I mentioned Jimmy, so that got the whole thing started. Apologies.
So now a quick (I mean it this time) run-through of my top ten Jimmy Eat World songs:
1) A Praise Chorus
2) Kill
3) The Authority Song
4) The World You Love
5) Hear You Me
6) 23
7) For Me This is Heaven
8) Sweetness
9) My Sundown
10) Lucky Denver Mint
Honorable Mention: A Sunday, She's Perfect
Almost equal representation from all three albums (3 from Futures, 5 from Bleed American and 4 from Clarity), which is a strong statement about this band's consistency. Tickets on sale Saturday for a Long Beach show in May--definitely gonna be there.
Okay, now did the Kings really trade C-Webb (and spare parts) for three fair-to-poor power forwards? I don't follow this at all. I'm not a huge fan of the man--he's been crying his way to numerous playoff defeats his entire career--but he's a better player to build around than Peja, that's for sure. Granted, Mike Bibby and Brad Miller are all-star caliber and Peja's good in the regular season, but they just traded away 21 points, 10 rebounds and 6 assists per game, getting back Kenny Thomas, Brian Skinner and Cordless Williamson, none of whom are the passer or rebounder that C-Webb is, and none of whom possess anything close to his scoring ability. Thomas is the best of the three, but do the Kings think he's going to be the four on an NBA champion? No way. This is great for the Sixers, though, because they give AI the best teammate he's ever had. And Webber will love it too, because he won't have to take any big shots. It would be like Peyton Manning getting traded to the '85 Bears, so he could win without actually having to make any clutch plays. Incidentally, Peter King made a great point about Brady and Manning the other day, mentioning how Peyton's contract eats up 20% of the Colts' cap space, meaning it's always going to be tough for Indy to put a good surrounding cast on the field. Brady's cap number will be less than $8.5 million next year (Peyton's is $17.8), meaning the Pats can continue to reload year after year. Unselfish. Winner.

I Shouldn't Have...

"Go back to your hometown, get your feet on the ground
And stop floating around
I find a fatal flaw in the logic of love
And go out of my head"
--Gone for Good, The Shins

One of several bands on the high-quality "Garden State" soundtrack, I grew to appreciate The Shins (and Iron & Wine, who sing that slow acoustic cover of "Such Great Heights") during our multi-hour drives to and from Mammoth over the weekend. Steve is a musical connoiseur and his thousands of mp3's helped provide a bit of an education on our journey. The "fatal flaw" to which I'm referring with the lyrics has nothing to do with love, but instead with my recent writing. I re-read yesterday's blog and came away thoroughly disappointed, probably moreso than with anything I've written heretofore, which is quite frustrating. I'll attribute it to the title-referenced "cranial confusion" that's currently on the downslope, let it "go out of my head" (as the lyrics above suggest), and move on. So here's today's entry...
Things that have interested me this week:
- Peter King evidently has a golden retriever named Bailey. I can only hope, for Mr. King's sake, that his Bailey is slightly more well-behaved than her La Canada-based counterpart.
- Big win for Newcastle United over the weekend, upsetting Chelsea at St. James' Park in FA Cup action. The Magpies (my favorite Premiership club, in case you didn't know) got a big opener from Patrick Kluivert, who has been incredibly disappointing thus far on Tyneside, and a typically steady performance from captain Alan Shearer, who continues to be the greatest striker in Prem history. Graeme Souness, the manager, mentioned today that he wants to sign Michael Owen away from Real Madrid, which would be an incredible acquisition if he can make it happen. P.S. Man United v. AC Milan on ESPN2 at 11:30 today.
- If steroids don't help a baseball player, as Barry Bonds so adamantly maintained yesterday in his press conference, then why on earth would a baseball player take them? I'm sure seeing Lyle Alzado in the latter stages of his life would be a proper incentive to juice up, knowing that there's no benefit whatsoever. Sure, let's shrink our satchels, create random fits of anger, risk criminal prosecution (yes, they are illegal) and sacrifice our future for something that's not going to do anything positive at all. That's absurd. There absolutely must be an upside or else guys like Bonds (who is ridiculously meticulous about EVERYTHING he puts into his body) would go nowhere near those things.
- Nobody's talking about the baseball side of baseball as spring training gets underway, which really sucks. I mentioned several times last summer how much I love baseball, and I'm very much looking forward to the start of another season. The Padres have made a few minor moves, setting themselves up for success in the awful NL West, which gives me even more of a reason to be excited. But steroids, Canseco, Bonds and Giambi are the only things people are even discussing, and it's a big-time bummer. Let's just let the season play out, watch skinny Bonds hit like 30 bombs and blame his old age, watch Giambi hit .260 and endure accosting on the road, or whatever's going to happen. I don't care anymore. Let them play, and talk about the players and the games to come, not the drugs from the past.
- Jack Haley cracks me up. Evidently, minutes after his exclusive report regarding the pending Laker trade for Carlos Boozer was reported on FSN, Haley received a phone call from Laker public relations guru John Black, who proceeded to read Haley Bro the riot act. Irresponsible journalism on the part of the former Bruin and Laker, who apparently received his tip from "Employee Number 8" (that's Kobe, if you needed the interpretation) and didn't bother to check it out with any other sources before reporting it on the air. Hurts his credibility, but then again, what credibility did Jack Haley really have in the first place?
- This is why the Patriots' recent run of Super Bowls is incredible (and I apologize profusely to all Ram fans offended by this point): Eddie Berlin, Kevin Carter, Robert Holcombe, Derrick Mason, Shad Meier, Fred Miller, Joe Nedney and Samari Rolle. All eight of those guys were cut yesterday by the Tennessee Titans, who were $27 million over the cap and needed to purge in a big way. Just a year removed from a tough playoff loss to the Pats and an MVP year from Steve McNair, the Titans went 5-11 this season and now have to lose their best pass rusher, receiver, kicker and cornerback. It's impossible to do what Scott Pioli and Bill Belichick have done. Not literally impossible, because obviously they've done what they've done, but you know.
- It's amazing how quickly I've grown to love the Chargers' front office. I'm still not totally over the Rodney Harrison thing ('cause he was obviously over the hill when we released him. no help to anybody), but this "non-exclusive" franchise tag they placed on Drew Brees was a tremendous move by A.J. Smith & Co. Brees will be the starter this year, getting paid a manageable $8.078 million, and if he's great again (and he will be), they can franchise him again and/or work out a long-term deal. If somebody wants to pay the man and sign him away from San Diego, they'll have to compensate the Bolts with two first-round picks (one this year, one next year), which would give us three first-rounders this year, and then Rivers would step in and start the learning process right away. I'm obviously leaning toward the Brees staying thing, but the worst case isn't so bad. Can't wait for the draft, either, only two months away from today.
- Matt Leinart winning the first Manning Award: not big news. Evidently Archie, Peyton and Eli all got votes in determining the winner, which means they didn't vote like Carson Palmer did for the Heisman (Erik Ainge might have finished a little higher if they had), but made the real difficult decision of giving the award to the Heisman winner and quarterback of the national champs. Oh yeah, and the award is given out at the end of February? How long did they have to wait to figure out who the best guy was? Let's wait for the Heisman, the Maxwell, the Davey O'Brien, the Johnny Unitas, the Walter Camp, the AP Player of the Year, all the bowl games, the NFL draft deadline, the inevitable Peyton playoff loss, the turning of winter into spring, Daytona and the start of NASCAR season (you know those southern boys are neck-car freaks), pretty much anything and everything--and then we'll give our award. And by the way, Sports Guy's note on Manning last week was great: Peyton won the Pro Bowl MVP, so now he's gotta be better than Tom Brady, right? Nice.
- Just found out this morning that the actor who portrayed Jimmy Chitwood and the individual who was the "real" Jimmy Chitwood are going to be on our show next week in conjunction with a Hoosiers DVD giveaway. Other than the Antonio Gates/Keenan McCardell visit a few months ago, I can honestly say there's no segment to which I've looked forward with more anticipation.
I'll be re-reading and evaluating this one sometime soon, but I depart now with a bit more confidence (and a clearer head)...hopefully it's been a decent one. Peace.

Cranial Crisis

"Life moves and I stopped to taste it
I drank it up till it left me wasted
But my rains have bled a softer red
Oh you should see the world inside my head"
--World Inside My Head, Sister Hazel

My head is aching, so the world inside it is a painful one at the moment, and has been since Saturday, when I enjoyed the most theatric fall of my 10-year skiing career. I ended up about 20 feet away from both of my skis, which were about 20 feet apart from each other, therefore rendering a nice equilateral triangle of disarray. Somehow--and I have yet to put all the pieces together to figure out exactly what happened--one of those skis whacked me in the back of my dome, though it was a dull thud (broadside) rather than a sharp slice (edge), so it could have been worse. The day got foggier as it went on, and though I toughed out most of an amazing day on the slopes, the damage had been done.
Part two of the noggin ailments came on Sunday, when the effects of living in close quarters with 12 people manifested themselves in the form of the common cold, thereby adding some sinus aches to the already battered dome. I'm still feeling that part of it, for sure, though it's hopefully on the retreat.
So besides the head stuff, it was a great snow- and friend-filled weekend, getting away from the daily routine and getting to enjoy a vacation for the first time in forever. These little retreats are a very necessary thing, I'm finding, and I see why we used to work those things into our church calendars. Everybody needs an occasional chance to get away and recharge, no matter the relative wear and tear of the regular work (and whatever else) week. Plenty of sports to fill up the weekend too...
1) Saturday: NBA All-Star festivities, including the three-point contest (a head pound to Q-Rich) and the dunk contest, which was the best it's been since Vinsanity, no question. Other than Chris Andersen (and honestly, has there ever been a worse dunk contest performance than his?), the contest was amazing, full of originality and incredible athleticism. Josh Smith was outstanding, looking so smooth in his repertoire of windmills and 360's. Throwing on the 'Nique jersey was a classic touch, though he looked more like MJ with the ensuing Kiss the Rim/windmill flush. His leap over K-Mart brought to mind images of this dude Henry Bekkering kneeing Brian Bosworth in the face on our show while attempting a similar maneuver. Amare was sweet too, benefiting (as he has all season long) from the ingenuity of Steve Nash. Being the soccer fan in the room, I certainly had an appreciation for the Nash header in the semis and the rainbow kick in the finals, both of which were completely original works. Both guys deserved trophies, but at least they were able to resuscitate what had been a dead event for the last few years.
2) Sunday: UCLA-Stanford, Arizona-Oregon State, Daytona 500, Duke-Wake Forest, NBA All-Star Game.
- The Bruins looked like they have all season: capable of good things, but settling all too frequently for bad things. Giving up 37 to Chris Hernandez didn't help, and neither did another disappearing act by Dijon. Mike Fey started strong, but he still misses way too many easy shots, and as a team, we just don't take care of the ball very well. I think we're resigned to an NIT appearance, unless some sort of a miracle can occur at Staples in a couple of weeks. At least we're better off than SC, with whom we face off in Pauley on Thursday (and I'm certainly hoping to be in attendance, crossing my fingers that a hook-up will result in a ducat or two). One of the bright spots for both squads has been the play of the freshman guards, Farmar/Afflalo and Pruitt/Young. Watching SC's exhibition win over Oxy early in the year, I really liked Pruitt, and he's continued to improve a ton, so his matchup with Farmar will be a fun one to watch.
- When CBS took us away from the Bruins and over to Indiana-Michigan for a while, I instead went over to FSN and watched the last five minutes of the 'Zona-Oregon St. first half. Wow. Salim Stoudamire was en fuego, knocking down six threes in the half, including the last two from ridiculous range. I don't like the guy, but he sure can shoot.
- Best NASCAR race I've ever seen, no doubt. I know I can't watch it for all 500 miles, or even half or a third of it, but I was checking on it during UCLA commercials, and then got to watch the last 20 laps or so in their entirety. I was definitely rooting for Dale Jr., who took the lead with five laps to go, only to give it up to Jeff Gor-don (in the black SS with the naviga-tion) just a lap or so later. Junior finished third, which was remarkable considering he had to come from back in the 30's over the last 20 or so laps. Kurt Busch was great too, finishing second and contributing to the fall of Tony Stewart, who led for most of the race and finished seventh. They're at Fontana next weekend, so maybe I'll luck myself into a pass again--I'd approach it a whole lot differently than last year, now knowing that I actually like the sport.
- J.J. Redick might be a better shooter than Stoudamire. Might be. He was sick against Wake, bombing from all over the place and helping the Devils break their two-game losing streak.
- Got to see part of the All-Star game (after pizza from Giovanni's, which is quite possibly the world's greatest--and memories of eating there in years past add to the quality, for sure), and it was rather disappointing. Nobody with 20 points, Kobe and Ray Allen both trying to shoot their way to the MVP, too many turnovers to count. Vince's off-the-backboard dunk was solid (only saw that one on SportsCenter though), T-Mac's was fine, and the alley oop from Kobe to Amare was pretty sick. Otherwise, a sub-par effort; Saturday was better.
Trying to get back to normal this week, but the sick factor might threaten that somewhat. We'll see. Eric Gagne on tonight, looking just as big as last year, unlike the newly-svelte (at least in the head) Barry Bonds, who looked 23 in his press conference today. No way that guy didn't do 'roids. But does it matter? That's rhetorical.

Randy (cont.)

"Any time I've taken the mound, it's always been the old Samson-and-Goliath story written about me."
--Randy Johnson

Nice. I definitely chose the right guy to play in my analogy this morning. Dude needs a bible refresher. By the way, there's 17:03 to play in the second half of the UCLA game and those gutty little Bruins are up 18 on awful, awful Cal. Doing exactly what they need to do; let's hope this holds up...

Ode to the Erstwhile Female...

"I took a walk in the evenin' wind
To clear my head somehow
But tonight I lie here thinkin'
What's she doin' now"
--What She's Doing Now, Garth Brooks

See if you can follow: I'm Randy Johnson and she's Joe Torre. She's the best manager in baseball, I'm the best pitcher that was available in the off-season. After tooling around with several other clubs (Seattle, Houston, Arizona) with some great individual success (a handful of Cy Youngs) and a taste of victory as well (the 2001 World Series title), I've finally arrived at the ultimate destination to play for the ultimate manager and finish out my career. My manager is obviously quite excited to have me in town, putting me on the hill for opening day against the Red Sox and every fifth day from there on out, knowing that a consistent performance from the big lefty (that part's not too much of a stretch for me, right?) will mean good things for all involved. All I ask is for the ball every fifth day and some communication on the off days--making sure my mechanics are good, the arm's not too sore, that I'm getting along with my teammates and all that stuff. Being a good manager, from what I know, that's what I'd expect from her, er, from Torre. And remember that whole baseball season analogy from last week? Yeah, stay the course, let the season play out without worrying about winning every single start. If I win 20 of the 35 or so starts I'll make all season, it's a hugely successful campaign.
Now, this all seems ideal (and pardon me if I've gone way too far into this analogy, but there's still more), so imagine Randy's surprise when Torre decides, after just five starts (and an impressive 4-1 record, with an ERA under 3.00), to sit Randy for the rest of the season. He doesn't even tell his ace why he's not starting anymore, leaving Mel Stottlemyre to deal with the dirty work, and even Mel doesn't have any answers. Yes, there are other starters, and Mussina, Pavano, Wright and Brown can all handle themselves, but the Yanks just aren't the same without Big Unit, and Torre evidently can't understand that. So Randy just bides his time in the bullpen, hanging out with the guys and gradually coming to the realization that he'll never pitch for the Yankees again. It's a sad state of affairs, but eventually he'll have to go to Brian Cashman and ask to get traded somewhere that he can play. All he wants to do is pitch.
Okay, that was really long, I know, but I hope most of it makes sense. If it doesn't, here's the one-sentence summary: Things were great, and now she won't talk to me--for no apparent reason. I had fun elaborating on the baseball story, but the real one isn't so fun. However, as I've become better at not taking everything so seriously, I realize that there's nothing I can do about it, so I'm happy to move on and find a team that's going to pay me well and depend on me as the ace, know what I'm saying?
On a real baseball note, the Yankees' youngest starter among position players is A-Rod, who is 30 years old. The Twins, who have matched up with those Yankees in the last two post-seasons, will have just one starter among position players that's over 30--the 31-year old Shannon Stewart. The Yankees are going to be good, real good, but they're also real old, which means they're in danger of a Raider-like demise sometime soon, and the farm system has been bare for quite a while, thanks to Steinbrenner's penchant for high-priced, experienced talent (I trust you're still enjoying the book, Side).
Big weekend for the Bruins coming up, starting with Cal tonight (on your local FSN network) and then Stanford (on CBS, we're big-time) on Saturday. Winning both games puts us in the driver's seat for a spot in the tournament, but a loss in either will make it tough. Dijon needs to be closer to the guy that hit ASU for 39 than the guy who was held to 10 (on 4-of-13 shooting) by 'Zona. Far-mar, Afflalo and Shipp have to play a little more like sophomores and a little less like freshmen, and Hollins and Fey need to become males sometime soon. I can think of nothing more frustrating for Ben Howland than to be coaching two players as weak as those two big men. His Pitt teams were so tough, so physical, and these guys are the antithesis. At least Lorenzo Mata looks like he'll be a tough dude someday.
Speaking of tough dudes, Sheff is on the show tonight to crack back at all this steroid stuff, which should be very interesting. Do we care that all these people seem to have been using steroids? I think there's no doubt it taints the records Barry Bonds has been setting and will continue to set (if he is indeed guilty of such use), and it mars the Sosa-McGwire race in '98 as well (again, allegedly). I understand that MLB has been inclined to sweep everything under the rug to this point, as it wouldn't have benefited them to suspend either Sosa or McGwire during the summer that saved the game, and it wouldn't have behooved them to hamper in any way the increased home run totals that corresponded with dramatic increases in attendance. Chicks dig the long ball, remember? That being said, how can baseball's policy, even in its stepped-up state, ask for just a ten-day suspension (or whatever slap on the wrist it is), when the IOC (or whatever governing body does this) demands a two-year ban for any track and field athlete who gets caught? I also wonder what the difference really is between the effect of steroids and the effects of andro or any of the other, legal supplements that athletes take. Should steroids be singled out when there are other artificial means of muscle enhancement? I'm done. Back to write on Tuesday, so miss me.

Three Days?

"Everybody's working for the weekend
Everybody wants a little romance
Everybody's goin' off the deep end
Everybody needs a second chance, oh"
--Working for the Weekend, Loverboy

I haven't known the true meaning of a weekend since before Fox started Saturday baseball up last spring, which essentially means that since the beginning of May, I've literally been working for the weekend (and yes, I just quoted Loverboy to start my blog). The most recent run was one of the longest, spanning 12 straight days (and who knows how many hours) before a break on Saturday, which came none too soon and came accompanied by a Sunday and Monday off as well. So how would I respond to such an uncharacteristic lapse in the work schedule? Would I be a fish out of water, unable to adapt to my new "time off" habitat? In animal terms, I think I went into hibernation, at least on Saturday. I didn't leave the house until 10 p.m., and from the time I woke up until that departure, I did about as many unproductive things as I possibly could: X-Box (first FIFA, then a brief stint on Ghost Recon, then extended Heroic action with Side on Halo 2), computer games (my campaign to bring Everton to the top of the premiership hit a snag with some fitness problems for young superstar Wayne Rooney--kid's got talent, but he needs to run in practice), movies (discovering that my powerbook can also act as a portable dvd player: priceless; so I watched Garden State in bed when I got up--definitely worth all the build-up and advance reviews I'd heard from people; we also watched "Good Will Hunting" with the commentary--Affleck, Damon and Gus Van Sant--very funny stuff), television (Wisconsin-Illinois, and then one of the better college basketball games I've been able to watch all year, Duke and Maryland--I'll get to college hoops later), and radio (listening to the Bruins tank in the second half against Arizona, bolstered by loud cries of anguish from the living room, where Phil and friend were lamenting the same performance). A few more productive elements were undertaken as well, including some guitar playing (following up a tremendous jam session with Bernie on Friday night) and some progress in that Red Auerbach book. Needless to say, I felt entitled to be a lazy bum and be completely unproductive that day, and it worked.
Driving home late that night from Hermosa, I encountered one of the stranger things I've ever seen in my life: Chi walking down the street, accompanied by two girls, jumping into a shopping cart, and getting pushed down the street in said cart by said females in the general direction of Beaches. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised by anything from Chi, but I certainly needed a double-take in this instance. A nice capper to an uneventful day.
Sunday was basketball-ful, and made the quality of weekend days two-for-two, with flying colors. Drove up to Brentwood with Michael and Side for some pick-up ball with guys from work, split four games (and nobody got hurt, which is always a bonus), then headed home for turkey sandwiches and a re-airing of "Garden State," my second such viewing in a little over 24 hours. A little downtime after that and then over to Aviation gym for the second game of our rec league campaign. Looked like it might be a little challenging, but a Mike Stephens-inspired 23-2 run closed out the game and we won by 29. Not too shabby.
Spent much of Monday in La Canada, including a wonderfully long lunch with Darren at Baja Fresh (pretty much the only place west of Ocean View at which I'll eat), a quick stop at Mom's to pick up skis and poles and boots (can't wait for Mammoth this weekend), and then an extended stay at Side's for Halo and dinner with his parents (dinner with his parents, not Halo, if the sentence structure there provided any confusion). Watched 24 at Christi's on the way home (is it bad to have hung out at the home of an ex-girlfriend on Valentine's night?), which represented my second consecutive week watching this enthralling drama (and no, I'm not just saying that because it's on Fox). I also obtained the season's first six episodes on a VHS cassette, so I'll hopefully be making time for that shortly.
So a quick update on Project College Basketball is in order, after the first weekend that fell under the guidelines of this dramatic undertaking (see last Tuesday's blog for a complete explanation). Perhaps it's due to the extended (read: normal for most people) time off, but I was able to watch more college hoops this weekend than I have since last year's tournament, including a pair of great games involving ACC teams. Duke-Maryland was outstanding, going back and forth all game long and getting into overtime before Duke's whole team fouled out and they were left with Patrick Davidson and Patrick Johnson on the court for the game's final minutes. The two Patricks, as they're known in some circles, played a total of 11 minutes, combining for five personal fouls and no other recorded statistics. That's some serious production. Shelden Williams (23 points, 16 rebounds), Daniel Ewing (23 points, 4 assists, 2 steals) and Shavlik Randolph (no points, but he's big) were all disqualified, leaving the Maryland big people with ample room to operate inside and the Terps' defenders with nobody to guard except J.J. Redick. Redick stunk it up at the end of the game, too, forcing some bad threes and shooting 5-for-19 (he was 7-for-21 in the previous meeting between the two teams) on the evening. I don't think that any single player in America matters more to his team than Williams; the Devils have no inside game when he's not in; he completely changes the game when he is present. Averaging 16 points, 12 boards and four blocks, he's been one of the most consistent big men in the country all year.
UCLA-Arizona wasn't worth a full description; the Bruins are young and inconsistent, meaning the more experienced Wildcats played their game and ran away from us in the second half. I figured that one wouldn't be the best one for me to attend, so I'm looking at the SC game a week from Thursday at Pauley.
The second ACC-related game was Sunday morning's non-conference tilt between Carolina and UConn, a rematch of a great regular season game last year. Raymond Felton was sweet for the Heels, Jawad Williams came up big, and Rashad McCants struggled, but still came up with a few big buckets. For the Huskies, Josh Boone and Charlie Villanueva continue to be solid inside, Rudy Gay blocked a ton of shots to go with his usual consistent jumper, and the young guards played okay. The fact that I'm actually interested in bench players on random top 25 teams makes me happy; the rediscovery is in full effect.
Started this in the morning before the meeting, finishing up now as rehearsal gets underway, so a final note before I get back to the set: Side's moving back to China for reals tomorrow, and though it was great to have him around again for the last week or so, it's a bit sad to bid him farewell yet again. Spent some time thinking in the car on the way home from 24-watching last night, and came up with a lucid thought or two. There are a ton of people that we come across in our lives; some remain therein for longer periods of time and some come and go quickly, but everyone has a purpose and a role. Side has had many purposes in my life (most of which have involved Halo somehow), but the most clear and the most relevant in the recent past has been this: a strong reminder not to take myself, or life, too seriously. It's a thought we've discussed in bible study on occasion, but it's brought home (literally) by the take-it-as-it-comes attitude I see from my good friend and the easy ability to laugh at anything (ourselves most definitely included). It doesn't mean that life's a joke, because friends and family and relationships and God (and I could go on, but you get the picture) are all incredibly important and should be treated as such, but it's being able to step back and enjoy things, not to get too caught up in what you're doing or who you're trying to become. It's always been there (quite present in the constant reminder of my most embarassing moments, perhaps overly so in the running gay jokes that have plagued me since my employment at Abercrombie, spread so eloquently by Suss over the years), but has been more evident in those week-long sojourns onto U.S. soil over the past several months. It (and he) will be remembered, for sure, but certainly missed.
Sports Guy took a dig at Best Damn today (and a pretty funny one at the now-defunct "I, Max" as well), which is sort of an honor, I think? We'll live through it...peace

Rediscovering...

"How could i forget a waste of breath
Of course, i do remember
All the things you said were pointless
Now you go on dropping names"
--How Could I Forget, The Faint

Sitting in the edit bay Monday afternoon, watching the final touches get applied to a good rebound show (see Sunday's debacle if you need to know why a "rebound" was in order), and got to watch most of the second half of a great college basketball game. No. 14 UConn was at the Carrier Dome to face top-ten Syracuse, and the Orange made a great run early in the half, but the Huskies fought back and earned a 74-66 victory. 'Cuse's top guns, Gerry McNamara (4-of-18 shooting for just nine points) and Hakim Warrick (16 points and seven rebounds, both well below his season averages), played below par, but their squad was still very much in the game. Sophomore Charlie Villanueva (21 points, 10 boards) was huge in the second half, converting several transition and garbage buckets in crunch time. UConn also has a guy named Rudy Gay (he had 18 points), who is evidently the college basketball equivalent of Patriots cornerback Randall Gay--gotta be the worst-selling jersey in their respective sports. Anyways, here's the reason I bring up the game: besides Warrick and G-Mac, there wasn't anybody I would really care to watch, but the game was incredibly entertaining. It seems that in my immersion into the world of sports television, I've forgotten how much I love college hoops, even when UCLA isn't playing. This has been a tremendous college basketball season, with Illinois and Boston College both maintaining unbeaten records, Duke, Carolina, Wake and G-Tech all battling for ACC supremacy, and great games almost every day of the week. I've been missing out. Thus begins my three-part mission to rediscover college basketball:
1) Duke-Carolina on Wednesday night. The best rivalry in college sports provides its latest installment from Cameron at 6 p.m. PST on ESPN. After watching Coach K keel over and get back up to lead the Blue Devils to a rout of Georgia Tech, I'm pumped to see how they come out in this one. J.J. Redick has emerged as an all-around scorer, adding some driving finishes and pull-up jumpers to his already-deadly perimeter game. Shelden Williams continues to dominate bigger men on the interior, and his matchup with Tar Heel center Sean May could be the determining factor Wednesday. So much talent in this game, wow: May, Rashad McCants, Raymond Felton, Marvin Williams--all likely lottery picks this year or next--against Redick, Williams, Daniel Ewing and DeMarcus Nelson (and they should still have Luol Deng and Shaun Livingston, geez). Roy Williams vs. Coach K. I might just have to tape it and watch it in its entirety, because bible study takes place right smack dab in the middle, so that might be rough. Well, however it happens, the complete viewing of this game will complete part one of the mission.
2) Attend a UCLA game in the final month of the regular season. I've got several options, beginning with Thursday night against Arizona State and continuing to the final weekend matchups with the Oregon schools. In the meantime, we've got Arizona and USC, so it shouldn't be a problem to get to one of them. I haven't been to a single college basketball game this year (excluding the rousing exhibition game between USC and Occidental College), which marks the first season in forever that no games have been attended. That's not right. Too much local basketball to have any excuse for missing them all. Hoops mission, part two.
3) Take the time to truly enjoy the first weekend of the tournament. It's the best four days of the year, and I recall vividly the dedication with which I would watch as many games as possible during high school and college, especially when the Bruins were making their run in '95 (not so much when they got backdoored by Princeton in '96). I still have tapes from tournament games going all the way back to 1990, when UNLV dominated Duke in the title game, so the tourney has always been a part of me, and will hopefully continue to be so. Watching games in Harv's class, in the SSMRC (I had to think for about five minutes to remember the name of that place), in the gym, on campus (and not in class at UCLA), anywhere we could take a TV. This should be easier with all the TV's around here, so I'm looking forward to it. March 18-21, it's on. Part three.
So in the next five weeks, I will hopefully have completely regained my excitement for the game, and with football out of the way (at least until April and the draft), the path should be clear. I can't claim complete devotion, because the NBA season is still going (though you wouldn't know it by watching the Lakers the last few days) and the Chargers' off-season maintains a prominent place in my mindset (some thoughts on that definitely coming later this week), but I'm definitely looking forward to more of the college hoop scene.
Had the pleasure of taking in my first ever episode of "24" last night, which brings about two big things. First, I need to go back and watch the first two seasons on DVD and the first six or seven episodes of this season on tape sometime very soon, so that I feel caught up on everything that's going to take place the rest of the way. Second, I need to add one show to my list of necessary television viewing for the week (making the grand total two; if you don't know what the other one is, you've never read this blog before). Thankfully, this won't interfere with the college basketball thing, because the only games airing at 9 p.m. on a Monday are bad Mountain West games like Air Force-New Mexico and San Diego State-Wyoming. There was a time when Big Monday actually had good games at night, back when J.R. Rider, Tyrone Nesby, Sunshine Smith, Kebu Stewart and Keon Clark played at UNLV and dominated Big West competition. Even Kaspars Kambala (you have to be a huge fan to remember that guy) had a good game or two for the Rebels along the way. So yeah, basically all that means is that Mountain West Mondays won't be taking precedence over "24" anytime soon. Lots of characters in this show, so the review will be nice to try to get everyone straight, though I've heard that there is little continuity from one season to the next. Obviously, Keifer has come through all three, and he definitely seems like an easy-to-like protagonist. Looking forward to this.
Quick thought about relationships, based on the descriptions of George Steinbrenner by Buster Olney in that Yankee book I just finished (by the way, the Red Auerbach book is great so far, even for a Laker fan like me): George treats baseball like a Big Ten football coach. Ohio State is his favorite team, and George runs the show like he's Woody Hayes or something, overreacting to every loss like it's the end of the season. If you're coaching college football and you lose a game, you're pretty much out of the national championship picture, so it makes sense to pay attention to every single detail, every up and down, every trend shown by a player. If a quarterback is struggling, there's not a ton of time for him to work out the kinks, especially if there's a capable back-up waiting in the wings, so a college football coach has to be able to pull the trigger quickly and needs to get fired up about every loss and every screwed-up play. Joe Torre treats baseball like a baseball manager (which is actually his job, so that works out quite nicely). Torre knows that baseball has a 162-game schedule, that players will go through hot and cold streaks, that the team will win and lose, and that losses are not actually the end of the world. You can lose 60 times and still have an amazing season. You can get out seven out of every 10 times and still have a .300 average. Guys like Derek Jeter can play through a rough start to the season, because Torre knows he'll eventually figure it out. If Jeter were the quarterback at Florida under Steve Spurrier this past season, he would have been yanked after one game, but Torre knows how to do it. Anyways, this long-winded explanation of the difference between a football coach mentality and a baseball manager mentality applies directly to relationships. Someone who decides to get worked up about every single up and down, getting way too high over some happy thing and getting way too low about something that sucks--that's the football coach, and he's not ever going to be okay in a relationship. You need to take the Torre mentality: it's a long haul, there are going to be slumps and streaks, and as long as you're generally headed in the right direction (the Yankees usually seem to be headed that way), one tiny little bad thing isn't going to kill it all. I'd rather not suffer through 60 losses, but in the long run, if you end up winning 100 games, that's pretty darn sweet. I've been through my share of over-scrutinizing and hurt over some tiny thing that gets more than made up for in due time, and though I've understood the need for proper perspective for some time, it took this sports analogy to make the proper sense for me. I guess that's a statement on my mentality, that sports are needed for a relationship to make sense. Oh well. And by the way, that thought didn't really end up as quick as I planned, but I hope it still makes sense.
Off to a meeting that could very well determine the future of our show. Hope it ends up all right.

Half Past Dead, Literally

"I pulled into Nazareth, was feeling 'bout half past dead
I just need some place where I can lay my head
'Hey mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?'
He just grinned and shook my hand, 'No' was all he said"
--The Weight, The Band

I'm still not done, but wow, I don't think there's any way I could be more fatigued at the conclusion of a Monday through Friday period than I am right now. Since I'm so fond of statistics (see the Kobe-LeBron comparison of a few days ago), lets compare a few numbers right now:
- number of hours I've slept since Sunday night (five nights): 20 (that includes a whopping six on Sunday and 14 total from the other four days)
- number of hours I've been at work since Monday morning (five days): 84, which includes four 18-hour marathons in succession and a relatively light 12-hour walk in the park today
A healthy ratio of work to sleep would be 1:1, getting in those banker 9-to-5 hours in the office to go with eight solid hours of slumber. A more realistic relationship would be 1.5:1, maybe nine hours of work and just six of sleep. So somewhere in the 1-1.5 would be good, and 2:1 would probably be considered unhealthy. Where, then, do you stick 4:1?????? That's even more absurd to write and see in print than it has been to live it in this surreal five-day period.
Fortunately, I've been able to get a lot of good work done in that time (I should hope that given 18 hours to do something, most of us would emerge with a quality product), and although we're back in at 7 tomorrow morning (and again at 5 on Sunday), it's with a positive outlook that I depart the office tonight (I have to stay at my desk until one final thing feeds out; just keeping half an eye on a monitor and writing until that occurs). The previous was a very long sentence, full of parenthetical references (the kind that appear in a place like this) and even a semi-colon (most people don't use them correctly or at all; they should learn). Apologies.
I'm probably too fried to think straight right now, but I laughed a lot at the following excerpt from Sports Guy's ESPN.com chat the other day. I had mentioned in an earlier blog my own desire to "straighten" myself out after talking in such depth about LeBron and the other stars of the NBA, so this was quite relevant:

Tim (Columbus, OH): Have you asked LeBron out on a date yet? Has your man crush fully developed?
Bill Simmons: Come on, I'm not even 1/100th as bad as Eric Neel - he's done everything but make LeBron a mix tape.

Mix tape? That's funny.
On another note, I've decided to let the ridiculous work week coincide with some ridiculous facial hair growth. Call it a playoff beard if you must; it's a tribute to the current lack of an NHL presence on the sporting landscape and a visible reflection of just how haggard these 84 hours (and counting...) have left me. It's certainly not a full beard--not even close--but it's more than these 27 years have ever seen, that's for sure. Of course, I don't think I even shaved until I was a junior or senior in college, so that's no surprise.
Sports thoughts for the weekend: If UCLA can upset Washington again (after seeing the shellacking those Huskies applied to SC last night, I'm not at all confident in that possibility), the Bruins' season is saved and is right back on track. The momentum lost in that horrible No-Cal weekend was regained in the amazing come-from-behind effort against those Trojans and maintained last night with a win over Wazzu (though I only caught about three minutes of it during my edit session), so they need this one to keep it going. With freshmen playing so much, it's tough to maintain any level of consistency, so we've got to expect the up-and-down deal for a while. Hope: squeaking out a win. Realistic projection: a three-point halftime deficit that turns into a blowout loss.
A quick television viewing suggestion: catch tonight's Best Damn, if at all possible (on at 11 and 12 on your local Fox Sports Net affiliate), or if not, try the re-air Monday at 7 a.m.--it'll be worth it, I promise. Terrell Owens, Adam Sandler, Chris Rock, Burt Reynolds and Emmitt Smith all on location in J-Ville with our guys (a group that includes the affable Michael Strahan as a guest host this week). Good stuff.
Funny, funny story from Jacksonville about this Patriots beat writer who got fired for basically cut-and-pasting a Peter King column and submitting it as his own. Now if one is going to plagiarize, I would venture to say that the most widely-read and respected guy in the entire industry might not be the guy that you want to rip off. If you're too lazy to write your column, steal it from another local guy somewhere (pretty much every newspaper is accessible on-line; that shouldn't be a problem), but not from Peter King. It's like a musician asked to play an original song for a record audition and busting into a Beatles tune, or Dubya trying to pull off the Gettysburg Address and claiming it as his own (to be honest, the latter might not be too far off). Doing something that stupid, it won't take long for you to get figured out. Have a little common sense, buddy. Evidently, this kind of work was a pattern, as pointed out by a guy on the Sports Law Blog (I think I have a sibling who might find some interest in that site). It's hilarious to read the excerpts and see how little actual work this guy was doing. As the editor of the sports section of a weekly community paper, and one who has to patiently edit the moronic scribblings of numerous youth coaches every Monday night (I need to come up with a fresh batch of quotes, like right now), I take offense to this dude's lack of respect for the institution of sportswriting.
Here's a couple of gems from last week's youth roundup to close out the evening (the feed is over; I'm gone):
- "Zachary Johnson hussled with 11R/7pts. Justin Jenkins sunk 8pts/5R. Alec Mikailian made a fast break and basket in the 4th. ending up with 2R/3pts."
One comment for each horribly-written sentence: 1) "Hussled" is not a word. Please use a spellcheck, sir. 2) While your abbreviations for points and rebounds might be a convenient way to type, the word "sunk" will never apply to rebounds, and, quite frankly, doesn't apply to points either--baskets, maybe, or battleships, but not points or rebounds. 3) One doesn't "make" a fast break. One runs the break, one executes a fast break, and one can even finish on the fast break. Magic Johnson may have made a fast break or two in his day, and Steve Nash is a possible "maker" of fast breaks in today's NBA, but I assure you that Alec Mikailian, no matter his possible merit as a hoopster, has never made a fast break. Sorry, Coach.
- "The Lady's Clipper's continue to play teams tough and are improving with each game."
That's an excellent use of two apostrophes in your team's name, Coach, both of which, quite frankly, are UNNECESSARY!!! Your team name is the "Lady Clippers," obviously a reference to Kerry Kittles and Marko Jaric (I like Corey and Elton; I'll leave them out of it), so it doesn't require any apostrophes when you just state the name. If you're trying to say that the lady owns something, go ahead. She can own the Clippers--women like Marge Schott and Georgia Frontiere have owned franchises, so it's possible (though looking at those two names, I hope my franchises are never owned by women--has there ever been a good one? I mean, Georgia, Marge, the one from Major League? Not good...). It's also possible that the Clipper owns something, as in "the Clipper's broken jump shot" or "the Clipper's awful pass." However, I think you just meant to state the team's name, tell us that they're playing teams tough and improving with each game (some pretty good insight into the story on my part, if you don't mind me saying). In that case, please refrain from such blatant inaccuracy in your punctuation. I wish I had e-mail addresses for all these people so I can send the numerous corrections back to them after I've spent my endless hours editing.
Okay, the rant is over, the video feed is over, and I'm actually going to be home at a decent hour tonight (probably just in time to pass out and try to catch up on all that lost sleep)...If I don't ever wake up and this ends up being my last blog, hopefully you'll understand why (and hopefully you'll miss me, too)...Peace.

So Early...

"Say hello to good times
Trade up all the fast lines
We close our eyes while the nickel and dime take the streets completely"
--Futures, Jimmy Eat World

(Please note the reference in the final line--respect). Back to that old favorite in the car this morning (and yes, by old, I mean less than two months) on the way to work at 6:00 a.m. I'm up at 5 every weekday as it is, getting a workout in before heading over to the office, arriving at 7:30 or so for our 8:00 editorial meeting. But this week, as the cast and crew are in beautiful Jacksonville, FL, our shoot time moves up a couple hours, and arrival at work is necessitated at 6:30. Ouch. Relative to most of my co-workers, it won't be as tough for me, but it's still stinkin' early to be at work. And though the implied corollary would be an earlier departure in the evening, due to the increased workload (building toward Sunday's live show), that's not too likely a scenario, unfortunately. On the contrary, I've had edit sessions until 12:15 a.m. and 11:50 a.m. (got out early both times) the last two nights, and I'm heading for another similar session (with no "early" exit this time) tonight. In the meantime, as I wait for the twice-delayed morning meeting to begin (read: hung-over co-workers in J'Ville), I'm able to reflect on a wonderful weekend--the first I've had without work since sometime last spring, and one which now seems to have happened decades ago.
Whenever I have a significant amount of time with no work to do (see Christmas vacation, Thanksgiving break), I'll make a few mental (or blogged) goals, big or small things to get accomplished in that span of time. The weekend represented more of the same, and I had three realistic goals to achieve thereupon: 1) finish my current book, "Fletch and the Man Who" and start another, 2) play guitar, and 3) watch at least one of the two movies I've been meaning to see for quite some time. The resulting work:
1) Fletch was finished and was slightly disappointing, nowhere near the level of the Chevy Chase classic. Evidently there are numerous other entries in the Fletch literary series, but I'm guessing the film adaptation (and Chevy's witty portrayal of the title character) provided most of the humor in the story. Somewhat soured on the end of that one, I was able to start (and finish) a great book by ESPN's Buster Olney--"The Last Night of the Yankee Dynasty." It chronicled the dominant pinstripe squads from 1996-2001 and finished with the Luis Gonzalez World Series-winning hit of Mo Rivera in 2001 (though it also included an epilogue discussing the 2002 defeat to Anaheim and the 2003 loss to Florida). He went into great detail about the significant members of the dynasty--all the players, coaches, Torre, Cashman and Steinbrenner. George was by far the most interesting, displaying an amazing range of absurdity in his dealings with the club. Making way more money than anyone in baseball and putting the vast majority back into the product, every other owner in the game is jealous of Big George, and he is indeed a weird dude. He'd spend ridiculous millions on a foreign player that would never even pan out and then try to save a few thousand by firing random team employees. His teams do win, but even in victory the guy would stress out about the next season or worry about what was going to go wrong in the immediate future. A title wasn't even good enough for George. Every off-season represented a necessity for "big changes," meaning huge dollars spent on all kinds of free agents, no matter the luxury tax penalty. Despite the Boss's errant behavior, I gained some insight about life and relationships by reading about his approach to the game (perhaps I'll elaborate tomorrow). Anyways, the book was awesome, and I sped through all 300-plus pages, allowing me to start my latest John Feinstein creation, "Let Me Tell You a Story," which is an already-entertaining look at Red Auerbach's life in basketball. Mission accomplished.
2) Played plenty of guitar, too, to the point of sore fingers on Sunday, a feeling I haven't had in a while. Kinda nice. Nothing original--no writing or anything--but still a good change of pace to recall some old favorites and try to learn some new stuff as well. Check.
3) The two movies I've been meaning to view for some time are "Beautiful Girls" and "Garden State," both of which I own on DVD and for which I have yet to make the necessary time. Since "Garden State" presently resides in the possession of one Charles Young, "Beautiful Girls" was the first option and it certainly did not disappoint. Timothy Hutton, Michael Rapoport and Matt Dillon were quite good, Uma Thurman was funny, and Natalie Portman had a great role. I'm still processing the film overall (and this week has given me no pause to do such a thing), but there are definitely some life lessons to be learned here as well. A surprise addition to the list was "Fever Pitch," which was evidently made in the UK several years ago, setting the stage for the American re-make coming out later this year (Jimmy Fallon and Drew Barrymore--remember the on-field controversy at the World Series? Fallon's version has been adapted to revolve around the Boston Red Sox, but the original stays true to its Arsenal (English soccer) roots, and is almost as good as the book. Speaking of the Arsenal, I got to keep one eye on their clash with Man U while I was editing last night and got to see a great Premier League game. Down 2-1 at half, Cristiano Ronaldo brought United back with two goals inside of three minutes, and they upset the defending champs at Highbury. Quality stuff. Anyways, the movie was good, too. British, but still good.
So it's nice to be able to look back at a few non-19-hour work days, but stuck in the middle of such things as I am right now, it's a little difficult to recapture the freedom and relaxation. And oh yeah, there's no coming weekend to speak of either, as we have a Saturday rehearsal and then a Sunday show, followed by a right-back-to-work Monday. Ouch. I honestly might just fall asleep here tonight; I'm already exhausted.
Quick non-Super Bowl sports-related thought for this morning: How on earth would Phil Jackson ever return to coach the Lakers? If Rudy T does indeed resign, as has been stated by several sources, are there any circumstances under which the Zen master would come back? Wasn't his departure rather acrimonious, with venom spewed in the direction of both Jerry Buss and Kobe Bryant? I might be delusional, but I'm pretty sure both of those guys are still with the organization. I remain skeptical, but we'll see.