Hope is a good thing . . . and no good thing ever dies

I didn't cry at my wedding. I didn't cry at the end of Bambi or Old Yeller either. I'm not that emotional of a person. I generally don't get overly high because I know I'll be coming down soon. And likewise, I don't get to down, because I know it won't last.

As The Simpsons accurately portrayed in one episode:
Lisa: "Nothing you say can upset us. We're the MTV generation, we feel neither highs nor lows"
Homer: "Really? What's it like?"
Lisa: "ehh..."

That's pretty much me in a nutshell.

It's probably not the best outlook for life, but it does keep me from getting overly stressed out about work or any other issues that come my way. But at the same time, it keeps me from getting truly excited when something good happens. As Lisa said, it's "ehh."

So if I'm not emotionally involved in so may other aspects of life, why is baseball, especially the Cubs, so different for me? I'll yell at the television, throw my hat on the floor and become generally frustrated over what Yes Dear calls "just a game." Other times, I'm on the floor begging for a base hit to drive in the winning run, or a slider low-and-away to get the final out. Why does such a simple game have the power to turn me into an emotional wreck 162 times a year?

Growing up, the baseball and soccer were the games I played as a child, and soccer wasn't on television, but baseball was. More specifically, the Cubs were on. I'd come home from school and much to the disappointment and frustration of my brothers, I'd turn on the game and basically monopolize the television for a couple hours.

At that time, I didn't know anything about the Cubs futile history; I just knew these were professionals playing a game that I played. I wanted to be like them.

As time went on, I was fortunate enough to taste success with the Cubs in 1989 when they won their division and made the playoffs. Of course, they failed to reach the World Series, and it was then I began to realize the truly daunting feat of not reaching the series since 1945.

Through the early and mid-90s, it didn't get better for the Cubs, in fact, it got worse. When you're team's General Manger is in commercials saying "We're working on it," you know things aren't going well for your team.

Following the strike of 1994, I swore off baseball. It was an empty promise made by a 15-year-old who knew, deep down, he'd be back.

More disappointing years followed in 1995, 1996 and 1997. I followed, but not with the same enthusiasm I had in the early 90s. Then, in 1998, Sammy Sosa and Mark "I don't want to talk about the past" McGwire captivated the nation in a thrilling homerun chase. Not only that, Sosa was leading the Cubs to the playoffs, where more disappointment was in store. The Cubs were swept by the Braves in the first round.

Four more frustratingly disappointing years followed until 2003. The Cubs were suddenly good, and not fluky good, but good with a solid, young team that could compete for years. But again, disappointment set in as the Cubs lost.

Last year saw the Cubs spare their fans the pain of losing in the playoffs. Instead, a 2-7 stretch to end the season meant the players were watching the playoffs from the same place I was, on their couch.

But it was there, on my couch, watching the Boston Red Sox pull off the greatest comeback in the history of baseball, followed by a four-game sweep in the World Series, that I realized why baseball pulls me from my emotional void.

For 86 years, Red Sox fans had suffered along with Cub fans, longing for a world title that always seemed just out of reach. Generations had come and gone waiting for their team to hoist the championship trophy. After a painful playoff loss, one fan lamented "They killed my father, and now they're coming after me."

But seeing the fans in New England spend the entire off-season celebrate "their" victory with "their" team taught me something. Those fans never gave up hope. The lived and died with the "idiots" because they knew, at the end of the day, they'd be able to celebrate just as much, if not more, than the players who won.

Cheering for the Cubs gives me something I don't find in many other places. They give me a chance to ride the rollercoaster of emotion. It's a chance to break out of the day-to-day routine of work and home. It's a chance to feel the highs and lows that let us know we're alive and not just taking up space.

More importantly, it gives me something to hope in that's bigger than myself. It's 96 years of fans waiting and believing that this is the year it finally happens. It's a connection to the past all while looking to the future. It's the belief that no matte how bad things get, they'll turn around. As Andy said to Red in The Shawshank Redemption: "Hope is a good thing . . . and no good thing ever dies."

And no matter how bad things get at the end of the year, Hope is there every spring, waiting for you.

On Deck: Something much more light-hearted, that was heavier than I expected it to be.

Countdown to Opening Day

There are few things in life that get me as excited as the opening day for the Cubs. It means I get to put away the painful memories from the previous year (and believe me, they're always painful) and greet the new season with optimism that can only be found inside the hearts of Cubs fans. Of course, most people see the optimism of Cubs fans and confuse it with delusional paranoia. I say people can differ on the definition of delusion.

Unlike last year, the Cubbies are coming into 2005 without the "World Series or Bust" expectations of last year. In fact, many "experts" are picking Chicago to finish third in their division behind both Houston and St. Louis. Of course, these are the same "experts" who picked the Cubs to win the World Series last year, only to see them finish third behind St. Louis and Houston in the division.

No, this year the Cubs don't have the weight of the world on their shoulders. The expectations are like those for Austin Powers 3. After the first Mike Myers spy spoof was such a colossal success (like the 2003 Cubs), there were incredibly high expectations for the sequel. Those expectations were not met, but that movie did give us Heather Graham, so it wasn't a total flop. Likewise, the Cubs didn't meet expectations in 2004 (though they did win one more game than in 2003), but 2004 did give us a chance to find out just how good Carlos Zambrano really is.

Now comes this year. After a down year last year, people are overlooking the Cubs as contenders. AP3 was fairly disappointing and many people are expecting the same from the Cubs this year.

Without the pressure, I think the Cubs are going to excel. With the distraction of Sammy Sosa or Moises Alou, I keep reading that the team's chemistry is good. ESPN barely mentioned them this year, except to say that Sosa and Alou were gone and Wood and Prior were hurt. If it weren't for being in the third-largest media market, we might not have heard anything about them before the season started. It'll be a lot like 2003 when they came out of nowhere to make it within five outs of the World Series (see, I told you they were painful memories.)

Maybe a better analogy would be to compare opening day to your wedding day. You spend months preparing, reading different publications and trying to make sure everything is just how you want it. As the day draws near, a sense of nervous anticipation begins to grow. The big day comes and goes quickly, but you're a changed person. You've made a commitment and you'll see it through to the end. You can only hope there are more good days than bad days.

So I've only got five more days until my commitment kicks in. I'll watch too many games on television, follow even more over the internet, and obsess over why we didn't go to the bullpen when it was obvious our pitcher was tired. I'll probably neglect Yes Dear at some point, my work will suffer, and I'll get to emotionally involved for my own good. I can't wait!

On Deck: Why do I care so much?

Just a few things I've been wondering

I was watching the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony the other night, and The Edge (perhaps the coolest rock & roll name of all time) was talking about U2's goal. He said their goal for the band was "Above all else ,what U2 have tried to avoid over the last twenty years is not being completely crap."
First of all, they've definitely succeeded in not being crap. In fact, I'd say The Joshua Tree is probably the best album from beginning to end that I own. That probably deserves its own blog entry. Secondly, I've adopted the goal of not being completely crap for all my writings. I've got no idea if I'm succeeding, but if I don't, I can always refer back to U2's Zooropa tour and know that U2 didn't succeed all the time either.

After watching American Idol, I've come to the conclusion that Paula Abdul is on some sort of anti-depressant medication. In the three year's I've been watching the show (I skipped season one), I don't think she's ever been as disgustingly upbeat as she was in tonight's episode. No one is that happy without drugs or alcohol, or both.

I'm currently doing a draft for my fantasy baseball team on the leagues messageboard. We started more than two weeks ago and it's still going on. I know they say Rome wasn't built in a day, but it may have been built faster than this draft is taking.

(By the way, coming soon is my analysis of both my fantasy baseball teams, you'll surely not want to miss that.)

It seems that Eddie has begun compliling a list of 100 things about himself, and he's pressuring me to do it as well. As he said on his blog, there's not 100 things about me that I could think of, much less interesting enough that people might actually care to read them.

Am I the only one who wishes Steve Carell was back on The Daily Show?

Close encounters with the Easter Bunny

Note: This column orgionally appeared in the Statesboro Herald on March 24:

When I was growing up, a few of my friends were afraid of clowns. I never understood this phobia. Clowns were always happy, as though they'd had a smile painted on their face. They made balloon animals shaped like giraffes and dogs. Heck, the really bad clowns would even make a snake.
How could anyone not like clowns?
But as it turns out, for some reason grown men and women with way to much makeup and a penchant for crazy clothes, funny hats and flowers that squirt water are a frightening thing to some people.
Until this past weekend, I didn't understand this irrational fear. However, on a trip to Warner Robins to visit some friends, I stopped by a local grocery store to pick up some things for that evenings dinner.
After collecting the necessary items, I proceeded to the checkout counter when I saw it.
"It," in this case, was a six-foot tall Easter Bunny walking around the store and taking pictures with various members of the store's staff.
I turned to my friend to make sure I was in some sort of Ny-Quil induced hallucination. If I was, so was he as we both saw the giant rabbit.
The rational part of my brain told me that it was just a guy dressed up in a costume as some sort of really bad promotion.
Unfortunately, that part of my mind was overpowered by the part of my brain that said I should run to the nearest law enforcement officer to inform him of the strange man dressed up like an Easter Bunny roving the streets of Warner Robins.
We were able to leave without coming face to face with the giant bunny, but I can't help wondering what kind person would want to dress up like an animal and walk around promoting whatever it is they are supposed to support.
At one time, I know a local buffet-style restaurant had someone dress up as a cow and walk around outside the restaurant to raise awareness that steak was now on the menu.
I never could grasp the concept of having a cow promoting the steak on the menu.
Unless it was one of those self-hating cows, why wouldn't it mention the pasta or the chicken or something else? It makes no sense, and yet, week after week, I would see a person in a cow costume carrying a sign about what a great deal the steak was.
Now I realize we all don't have a choice in the jobs we'll take at any given time, but how low do you have to be to apply to be the person wearing the costume outside your business.
Surely you have skills in some area that would contribute to the economy of your town other than wearing an animal costume and promoting the death of your species.
I'm trying to picture the interview for this job.
Boss: Can you walk?
Applicant: Yes.
Boss: Can you walk with an extra layer of clothes on?
Applicant: Yes.
Boss: Well, you meet all the requirements. After a comprehensive background check and a call to Disney World to check your references, I feel safe in saying you'll be our new Cliff the Cow by this time next week.
All that being said, I have no problems with GUS, Georgia Southern's mascot that walks around at football and basketball games and plays with the children. He seems like a happy-go-lucky bird with dance moves I can only dream of having.
So what does this all mean, other than the fact that large bunnies scare me, but dancing eagles don't? Well, as best as I can tell, it means I have too much free time to worry about these things.

I hate Alexander Graham Bell

There are few things in life that demand my attention. For example:

• Yes Dear, when she gives me the evil eye to let me know that I've royally screwed up.
• Chief Bossman, whenever he comes into my cubicle, or anywhere within eyesight. He could be coming to talk about how bad the Cubs are going to suck and I'd say "Yes sir, they are."

Other than those two, there isn't a lot that demands I drop what I'm doing to give something else my full attention. But for some reason, our society now believes that a telephone should rank up there with your boss or significant other in terms of importance. It's like the call of the Sirens, you simply can't resist it. I mean, is there anything more obnoxious than a ringing phone?

For example, just this past week, I got home before my wife and I'd settled in to watch PTI on ESPN. At about 5:50 p.m., the phone rings. Now I have two choices, I can let the answering machine pick up so I can screen my calls to avoid anyone I'm really not in the mood to talk to (which, at that point, was pretty much everyone) or I could take a risk and answer the phone, not knowing who would be on the other end.

(While not as catchy, Forest Gump should have said "Life is like receiving a phone call. You never know what's on the other end." It's like playing the lottery when you answer the phone. It could be your college roommate that you haven't talked to in five years that you've been wondering about, or it could be that annoying guy at your office who wants to know if you're free tonight so he can borrow your washer and dryer because his broke.)

Anyway, I chose option one and didn't answer. If it was important enough, they'd leave a message and I'd pick up. In this particular case, no one left a message, so I figured it wasn't that important.

Flash forward about an hour. Yes Dear arrives home and asks me where I was earlier. I told her I was at work and then came straight home. She says she tried me at work and no one answered and then when she called the apartment, no one answered there either. I asked her if she left a message and she said "no, why would I?" I told her if she'd left a message, I'd have picked up.

Somehow I'm supposed drop everything I'm doing just because someone called me? How does that work? I got a phone for my convenience, not for someone else's. Just because it's a good time for you doesn't mean it's a good time for me. But no, a ringing phone must be answered.

When I worked at a certain video rental store, we were expected to answer the phone, even if we were waiting on customers. You know, the customers, the people who took the time to leave their home to come to the store and have the right to expect service. Yeah, I had to tell those people to hold on because some lazy person didn't want to drive 10 minutes to find out if there was a copy of Spiderman2 available.

And don't get me started on cell phones. (Well, I guess I'll go on, can't stop now.) When did we, as a society, decide we had so much to say that we needed to be in constant communication with people? Is it to much to ask that I'm unavailable from the time I leave my work to the time I get home? Are there really pressing issues that can't wait until I'm not putting myself or others at risk by distracting my driving?

I'm actually one of the few people I know without a cell phone. I haven't given in to THE MAN who wants me to be in constant contact with everyone. No, in my own little ineffective way, I'm sticking it to THE MAN, and it feels . . . Well, I thought it'd feel cooler to stick it to THE MAN.

And despite the constant calls of telemarketers, politicians, the busy signals and the call waiting and all the other "advancements" that add more stress to our lives, Alexander Graham Bell is considered a brilliant inventor. He's lucky. He didn't have to live to see what his invention hath wrought on our society.

Something worth considering

In my continuing quest to become Bill Simmon's intern at ESPN.com, I'll tackle the next question his potential interns had to face:

If you were sent to prison for 30 years, what current NBA player would you want to be your cellmate at a maximum security prison?

At first glance, this seems like an easy one. If you're going to be in prison, you want the meanest, baddest and hardest player in the league to be your close, personal friend (but not that close, after all, 30 years is a long time, and there aren't a whole lot of ladies wandering the hallways or in the yard).

My first instinct is to take Ron Artest. After all, he's got such a hot temper that he'll spend most of his time in the hole, giving me the cell to myself for a good bit of the time. But then I realized that if I ever tossed him is drink without thinking, there's a good chance I'd spend 28 years in the medical wing of the prison. I'm not sure how the prison medical wing works, but I get the feeling the phrase "lowest bidder" is involved, and I would like to walk again when I'm released.

My next thought was to get someone like Grant Hill, you know, sort of soft spoken, intellengent and easy going. We could fashion chess pieces of out stone and spend all our day playing chess and talking about what a failure Christian Latener was when he joined the NBA. However, I think I'd need someone a little tougher to protect me. After all, while 6'1, 190 sounds impressive, when you realize it's mostly Mountain Dew and Wendy's, you need someone looking out for you.

So the key is to find someone with the toughness of Ron Artest with the intelligence of Grant Hill. Shaq lacks the intelligence. Tony Parker lacks the toughness (but gets bonus points for the possibility of having Eva Longoria stop by for a visit).

With all that said, I think the current NBA player I would chose if I had to spend 30 years in prison with would be Tim Duncan. He graduated from Wake Forest, which means he's intelligent, but at the same time, he's battled Shaq in the paint, so he's obviously tough. He's loyal in that I've never heard him complain about his team.

All that said, if somehow I was forced to spend 30 years with a WNBA player, Sue Bird or Lauren Jackson wouldn't be bad choices either.

2005 Cubs: A Fan's breakdown

The 2005 Chicago Cubs, as I see them on the first day of spring:

First Base: Derrek Lee is a superb defensive first baseman with some power at the plate. He flirted with .300 last year (I'm sure Mrs. Lee didn't mind) before fading down the stretch. He strikes out more than I'd like, but as a sixth-place hitter in the lineup, he's a pretty good player. I'd like to see him steal more often, but .285, 30, 100 is hard to complain about.

Second Base: After splitting time last year with Mark Grudelanik, Todd Walker thought he'd have the lion's share of the playing time this year. When the Cubs traded Sammy Sosa to Baltimore, they got Jerry Hairston, who is a defensive upgrade to Walker at second base as well as quicker. However, Walker is probably a better all-around hitter (including some power). While the job is Walker's to begin with, the Cubs are going to find a way to get Hairston into several games as he's just to good to leave on the bench. Plus, Hairston's got speed that is sorely lacking on the Cubs right now.

Shortstop: Ahh, Nomar Garciaparra. He won the AL Rookie of the Year in 1997 and won an MVP with Boston as well. He was the darling of the town before the very public negotiations to try to bring Alex Rodriguez to Boston. Garciaparra was upset with it and appeared to sulk on the bench. Being injured didn't help matters either. Last July, the Cubs, as part of a four-team deal that probably was responsible for the Red Sox winning the World Series, acquired Nomar. He signed a one-year deal in the offseason, but has indicated he'd like to finish his career with the Cubs. Without a doubt, he's the best shortstop the Cubs have had since 1987 when I became a fan. (Also, he's married to Mia Hamm)

Third Base: Ever since Ron Santo retired in the late 70s (I believe), the Cubs have had a revolving door at third base. At one point, they had something like 14 different opening day third basemen in 14 years. That's all changed since the Cubs acquired Aramis Ramirez from the Pirates in 2003. Ramirez has drastically improved his defense while becoming an offensive force. Last year, he hit over .300 with plenty of power as well. With Sammy Sosa and Moises Alou gone, he'll be looked to as someone to pick up the offensive slack.

Catcher: Michael Barrett was touted as one of the best young catchers in the game when he came up with the Expos. I should know, I drafted him for my fantasy team. However, he never did live up to the hype. Last year he began to show signs of brilliance. After being traded from the Expos to Oakland for a day before being traded again to the Cubs, Barrett started out slowly. He had trouble learning the new pitching staff and struggled at the plate. However, by midseason, he'd found his stride. Many consider him to be the leader in the clubhouse and on the field, an excellent quality for a catcher to have.

Centerfield: Corey Patterson was having an All-Star type season in the first half of 2003 before a knee injury forced him to miss about 60 percent of the year. Unfortunately, Patterson didn't spend that time learning the strike zone as he struck out 160+ times in 2004, including a brutal September. He reportedly spent the better part of the offseason working on his bunting, which should bode well for him. He's not a typical leadoff hitter in that he could eventually average 25-30 homers, but since he's the only speed the Cubs have, he's batting out of place.

Leftfield: Former Rookie of the Year Todd Hollandsworth will try to fill the void left when the Cubs didn't pick up the option on Moises Alou (and at $11 mill, I don't blame them). However, Hollandsworth is generally considered a spot-starter and great guy to have on your bench, not someone you want playing everyday. He suffered a nasty leg injury last year, but all reports are he's ready to go.

Rightfield: At this point, there's about a 10 percent chance I could be playing right field for the Cubs. After trading Sammy Sosa to Baltimore, the Cubs didn't get anyone to replace him and waited so long that there were no free agent rightfielders available. Somehow, we're hoping that Jeromy Burnitz (a Coors Field creation, much like Dante Bichette) can fill the void. If not, it's rookies Jason Dubois and David Kelton . . . or me.

Pitching: The Cubs are only going as far as their pitching takes them, and judging by the injuries to Mark Prior and Kerry Wood in spring training, we're not going far. Carlos Zambrano and Greg Maddux will be relied on heavily, and the final starter's spot is up for grabs with no one really taking it. The bullpen could be really good, or they could be really bad.

Prediction: If (let me rephrase IF) the Cubs pitchers can stay healthy, they'll contend for both the NL Central and the Wild Card. I don't think St. Louis will run and hide from the division like they did last year, and Houston's loss of Carlos Beltran and Jeff Kent will be hard to overcome. Record: 90-72, NLWildcard winners.

Yes, I am a Cubs fan

Well, I'm listed on the links of Scott's blog as "Tales from a desperate Cubs fan," I guess it's time to mention that I do, in fact, cheer for the longest suffering franchise in the history of organized professional sports.

My beloved Cubbies haven't won a world series since 1908. It shouldn't be hard to do the math since it's 2005 now, but that's 96 seasons without winning a World Series. It's been since 1945 since we've last been TO the World Series, let alone won it.

I get asked all the time how I became a Cubs fan, growing up in south Georgia where you're essentially required to become a Braves fan. Well, the answer is fairly simple. As the oldest of three boys, I didn't have an older brother's team to follow. Neither of my parents were die-hard baseball fans, so they didn't pass on a team for me to live and die with. (Grandma, being from New Jersey, was a huge Mets fan, but apparently being a baseball fans skips a generation.)

So to fill the void in my baseball fandom, I turned to the only place I had left to turn, the television. Fortunately, at that time, our local cable company carried WGN, a Chicago Superstation much like TBS is for Atlanta. Anyway, WGN showed about 100 Cubs games a year, and to make things better for an eight-year-old, the Cubs played in the day, when I could watch. Their games would start at 2:20, which meant they were on when I came home from school. I'd watch until it ended at 5:30ish and then go play or do my homework.

Obviously, being eight, I didn't know the history of the team. All I knew is they had a guy named Andre Dawson that hit 49 homeruns (back when that was a lot) and a slick-fielding second baseman named Ryne Sandberg (though I pronounced it Ryan for the better part of four years . . . I was eight, I figured they were saying it wrong on TV). It was baseball on TV. It wasn't like football with the rules that were fairly difficult to understand. Hit the ball, run to the base.

Add in the fact that the legendary Harry Carey was the Cubs play-by-play man who was drunk by the fifth inning and you've got a recipe for an eight-year-old becoming a fan.

Sure, they lost a lot, but they were on TV and I could watch. I even remember asking my dad why the Twins never played. He told me they did play, but I protested, saying I'd never seen them on TV. (Of course, later that year, they'd go on to win the World Series).

Two year's later, the Cubs, led by Sandberg and always interesting Mitch "Wild Thing" Williams (the same Williams that gave up the World-Series-Winning home run to Joe Carter in the 1993 World Series) made the playoffs. I was hooked.

I've been a fan ever since. I was there when we thought we had a good team in 1997 and started the year 0-14. I was there when the team's marketing campaign was "We're working on it."

And I'm here now, where we've got a decent shot, IF everyone stays healthy, to see them contend for a title. Granted, I'm only 26 years old, but I don't want to be one of those people who dies at 85 never having seen the Cubs win a World Series.

What I'm watching: NCAA March Madness
What I'm reading: Didn't I just say March Madness was on?!?
On Deck: A breakdown of the 2005 Cubs

A look into my fantasy life

Back in my freshman year in college (don't all fantasies start that way?), a friend of mine asked me if I wanted to play fantasy baseball. Not knowing exactly what it was, I asked him to explain it to me before jumping headlong into something.

I quickly learned that fantasy baseball is essentially your chance to play general manager. You draft players to fill the positions and then "compete" against your fellow leaguemates using the statistics of your players. If your guys hit more homeruns that week, you won the category.

Mind you, this was back before Al Gore's Internet had become wildly popular, so our fantasy baseball was done the old fashioned way. We looked up statistics in the box scores and had to keep track by hand. I spent to much money on Baseball Weekly that summer, but I was hooked on the game.

unfortunately, it would be another three years before I played fantasy sports again, this time playing fantasy football (same concept, different sport). This time, leagues on the Internet were gaining popularity, mostly because you didn't have to spend each week trying to compile statistics. The little gnomes that live in the Internet did it for us.

This year, I'll probably spend close to 150 hours devoted to my fantasy sports endeavors, including pre-draft study, drafting, monitoring my teams and random smack talk on the leagues' messageboards. That doesn't count the hours I'll spend watching the games and the highlight shows (Baseball Tonight is the greatest show ever invented.)

Needless to say, Yes Dear isn't entirely thrilled with my fantasy pursuits. I try to tell her that of all the fantasies I may have, this is probably the only one I can live out and still hope to remain married. Although, if I get to wrapped up in how the Boston Red Sox No. 3 pitcher did against the Texas Rangers, there's a good chance the Steel Rabbits may be the only people to keep me company. (Yes Dear hates it when I call them my "fantasy guys," but she hates when I talk about my "fantasy girls" as well. It's a battle I can't win.

Four more things you may not have known . . .

As Bill Simmons' intern contest continues, I continue my unannounced entry by answering four more questions he's asked his potential interns.

1. What's your favorite SNL sketch ever and why?

While I've expressed my affinity for the Christopher Walken/Will Ferrell masterpiece "More Cowbell," that, to me isn't the funniest sketch of all time. (And since I'm only 26, "of all time" really means the last 10 years). However, I've managed to narrow down my favorite SNL sketch to two finalists:

A. Sarah Michelle Gellar hosted the show in which Gellar, Ana Gasteyer and Ferrell are eating dinner in what appears to be the typical suburban family. However, Gellar hates her mother, Ferrell is stressed at work and Gasteyer is busy trying to play peacemaker. Eventually the argument escalates to the trio shouting at each other before Ferrell finally shouts "I DRIVE A DODGE STATUS" as though that should settle all arguments. The absurdity of a Dodge Stratus being the supreme status symbol and therefore making you above reproach is gold. Throw in Gellar's "I wish you were dead" when her mom asks about school and you've got comedy gold.

B. Mariel Hemingway hosts what may have been Ferrell's first sketch on SNL. Hemingway and Ferrell seem to be the typical family and invite friends over for the first time for a cookout. In between talking about golfing outings and future plans, Ferrell asks his children to get off the shed. In typical Ferrell fashion, his anger escalates before he shouts at the children " I will punch you in the face if you don't get off the shed! Now, get off the shed! GET OFF THE SHED!! GET OFF THE DAMN SHED!!" Eventually the guests begin pleading with the children to get off the shed before they finally comply.

2. What's the funniest scene in movie history and why?

Maybe it's because we've been talking about it at work recently, but the funniest scene in a movie would have to be the scene in "Blues Brothers" where Elwood and Jake are trying to elude the Cops after running a red light. ("The light was yellow, officer.") anyway, as the Blues Brothers drive like a bat out of hell though the streets, the end up in a shopping mall, much to the dismay of shoppers everywhere. Surrounded by the over-the-top absurdity of the moment, Jake delivers the most underrated line in the movie. "This mall's got everything." Simply the fact that they're on a high-speed chase though a shopping mall is great comedy, but add in the understated observation of a recently paroled convict and you've got the funniest scene ever in a movie.

3. What's your favorite reality-TV moment ever and why?

Any episode of the 5th wheel, an absolute train wreck every time.

4. If you could choose any sports scandal to happen, what would it be and why?

Imagine this: Michael Irvin is in a hotel with hookers and coke when Nate Newton arrives with 213 pounds of pot. Pete Rose is in the bathroom placing bets on the outcome of the Michael Jackson trial when Deion Sanders walks in, sleeps with a hooker, snorts some coke and smokes some pot before leaving a $10 bill on the table because Jesus told him that's all he needed to pay. Why would I want this? Because the stretched truth is so much better than any fiction.

Seeing a glimmer of hope

I'm beginning to realize I spend WAY to much time discussing Law & Order on this blog of mine. From TNT3 to my early ill-fated countdown of the best Law & Order characters (in case you're curious, my top four are 1. Mike Logan; 2. Jack McCoy 3. Adam Schiff; 4. Lenny Briscoe), I've probably spent several hours writing about the show in one form or another.

Well, you'll have to suffer through a couple more.

I was reminded a few weeks ago that my uncle works on the set of Law & Order:SVU. Granted, it's not the original (and still the best), but SVU is probably the second-best of the series.

Anyway, the discovery of my uncle's employment with L&O:SVU renewed my hope of one day being an extra on the show. I'm not looking for something big like being one of the dead bodies or anything like that. No, I've set my sights much lower. I want to be one of the courtroom extras that sit in the back of the courtroom. I'm not even asking to be on the prosecutor's side so I could be in the same frame as Sam Waterston (though I wouldn't mind that, but beggars can't be choosers).

However, since the chances of me landing a role on Law & Order are about as good as me landing a date with Catherine Zeta-Jones, I've set my aim at something that may actually be attainable.

I've asked my uncle to get me autographs from B. D. Wong , Ice-T and Richard Belzer. Sure I'd like Mariska Hargitay and Dann Florek's autograph, but as I said earlier, beggars can't be choosers. (On a side note, Mariska Hargitay and I share a birthday. Sure, she's 15 years older than me, but it's a connection, nonetheless.)

Besides, Official Brother wants to be a psychiatrist, and what better way to taunt him than to get the autograph of an actor that plays a psychiatrist on TV.

Rest assured, if the autographs come my way, I'll be sure to let you know about it.

On Deck: Four more things you may not have known about me.

What, Dustin worry?

I have a policy that I don't complain in either my columns for the Statesboro Herald or in this blog. Sure, I've got plenty to complain about, but it's my belief that you don't want to read about my problems and therefore, I don't write about them.

That's not to say there aren't things that pose difficulties to me. I'm not mechanically inclined, I don't always have a good attitude about things, and I'm a Cubs fan.

But tonight, I met a man who apparently has nothing to complain about.

Allow me to explain.

For dinner, myself, Yes Dear, Parental Units #1 and #2, Official Brother, The Girlfriend and D.C. Brother (formerly the untitled brother, more on his name later) all went to Applebees to celebrate my two brothers' birthdays (one in late February, one in early March). The seven of us are plesent enough people, I think. We're not overbearing, high-strung or difficult to be around.

So we're at dinner and Dustin informs us he'll be taking care of us tonight. (I must have missed the day waiters and waitresses changed from "Hello, I'm Name and I'll be your waiter" to "Hello, I'm Name and I'll be taking care of you tonight." Honestly, I think it's a nice touch.)

Anyway, Dustin is the most carefree person I've ever met. Anything we asked him to do was "No problem." The only thing lacking was the lack of "Flair."

More Cherry Coke? "No problem." Some A-1 sauce? "No problem." A to-go box? "No problem."

It got to the point that Parental Unit #1 and I woud laugh every time we asked him to do something because it was "no problem."

We started wondering if he had massive issues in his personal life and to compensate, gave the apperance at work that he had no problems. However, he seemed genuinely not to be bothered by our requests. It's not like we were his only table. It was fairly crowded at 7:45 on a Tuesday night. Surely a third refill of Sprite would be a problem with other customers to attend to, but no. He was happy to do it.

I expected him to show up with our bill whistling Don't Worry, Be Happy. Unfortunately, no such luck.

D.C. Brother
For years I've struggled to come up with a name for my brother. He was off at school when I first started writing columns, but eventually he came back to Statesboro to look for a job. After about a year, he's heading back to Washington, D.C. to find a job up there. He wants to work for a Congressman or Senator, but at this point, I think he'd be happy doing almost anything. Anyway, because he's going to be living in D.C., from now on he'll be known as D.C. Brother.

Mr. Data, make it so.

On Deck: My connection to B.D. Wong, Ice-T and the rest of Law & Order: SVU

It's not 100 things, but it's a start

While Scott, Stacey and Kelley are all copying each other for their blog entries (I hesitate to mention Kelley, especially since we've never met, but odds are she'll never venture to my little plot here in cyberspace, so I feel safe), I figured I should give it a try and list 100 things about me.

However, I quickly passed on the idea for one very simple reason . . . there's not 100 things about me I could think of, much less make interesting for you, the valued (and usually silent) reader.

So I decided to copy someone else. You may recall in my TNT3 blog entry, I mentioned Bill Simmons, ESPN.com's "Sports Guy." Well, he's having an intern contest and for the third round, he asked the would be interns to answer the following questions. Well, I figured I need to update my blog, so I'll tackle the four questions.

What was your favorite sports moment you've seen in person?
This one was probably the easiest question of the four I'll face. The year was 1999. The setting was the lovely city of Chattanooga, Tennessee. It was a mid-December Saturday and Georgia Southern was playing Youngstown State for the 1-AA national championship. Georgia Southern was considered the team of the 80s with three national championships (85, 86, and 89. They won another in 1990 for good measure). Youngstown, meanwhile, was the team of the 90s, winning four titles (You'll have to trust me on this one, I don't feel like finding the dates). It set up a clash of the two dynasties in 1-AA football.

Unfortunatley, the game never lived up to the hype as the Eagles cruised to a 59-20 win that saw Greg Hill (more on him later) complete all of one pass for 17 yards. That's right, the Eagles scored 59 points and only completed one pass.

On top of that, Georgia Southern fans may know this game as the one that featured "The Run," in which GSU fullback (and current Chicago Bear) Adrian Peterson broke 8 tackles and literally threw a guy to the ground in a 40+ yard run. Not only that, but I was about 15 rows up from where the Penguin guy (believe it or not, that's Youngstown's mascot) was thrown to the turf. The play made all kinds of highlight reels and I was there to see it in person, not to mention seeing my school claim their 5th national title. It was made sweeter by the fact that the Eagles had lost the year before to a UMass team that wasn't as good as Georgia Southern.

What's your favorite sports movie and why?
Reasonable people can debate the merits of Hoosiers, Raging Bull or The Sandlot as the second greatest sports movie ever made, but of this question, there is no debate, Field of Dreams is far and away the greatest sports movie ever made.

It's about baseball, rekindling a relationship with your father and following your dreams, but it's so much more. It's about us and our seeking to atone for the past while making things right in the present.

While most people point to the end when Costner and his dad play catch on the field, I personally tear up a few minutes before that when James Earl Jones gives his speech imploring Ray Kinsella not to sell the farm.

The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It's been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game, is a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good, and that could be again. Oh people will come, Ray. People will most definitely come.

As someone who grew up on baseball and still considers it the greatest sport ever invented, that speech brings a tear to my eye every time.

I believe every Major League Baseball player should be forced to watch that movie before the season. In fact, I'll probably watch it twice between now and opening day.

Who is your favorite athelete ever and why?

This is an obscure choice, especially if you're not at Georgia Southern sports fan, but #10 Greg Hill is my favorite player of all time. He was a shifty, athletic quarterback who ran the triple-option to perfection in 1998 and 1999. Were it not for rain in Chattanooga in 1998, he'd have won two titles and I believe his number would have been retired along with Tracy Ham and Adrian Peterson.

Watching "Shake & Bake" play was a treat. Every quarterback I watch at GSU from now on will be compared to Greg, and I don't think anyone will ever measure up.

What do you think was the funniest sports moment in history and why?

Hopefully PETA people don't read this, but to me, the funniest sports moment was Randy Johnson pulverizing a bird as it flew into the path of one of his fastballs. The bird explodes in a puff of feathers while the carcus flies behind home plate.

Sure, this may sound cruel, but my favorite part of Forrest Gump is when Tom Hanks gets hit in the face with a rock. That moment led to Official Brother adopting the phrase "I wanna throw a rock at him" to signify he'd just found a new arch-enemy. In fact, when he was in high school, Official Brother wanted to ride to Rome, Georgia (a six-hour ride) before the State Championship game "just to throw a rock at their school."

Extra Free Stuff:

I keep finding more and more reasons why I like the Sports Guy so much. This story about U2 adds to his stature in my book.

Another missed opportunity

In Eminem's song "Lose yourself," Mr. Mathers' opines "You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow/Cuz opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo."

Well, the opportunity that was missed in February will come around again, so it's not as dire as the song, but I still have to wait another year for the greatest of all mail days.

Really, it would take perfect timing for my mail dream (note: It's not a male dream!!) to be fulfilled.

What is this dream of mine that can only happen once a year? It's simple, really.

I want the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue and a Victoria's Secret catalouge to appear in my mailbox on the same day.