Cat Scratch Fever

Yes, I know "Cat Scratch Fever" may be a stretch in a post about the movie "Fever Pitch." The lesson, as always, is I'm a failure as a blogger.

I knew going in I wouldn't be overly thrilled with the movie Fever Pitch. First and foremost, it starred form SNL cast member Jimmy Fallon. Unfortunately, the movie wasn't filmed live, so I didn't have the joy of waiting for him to start laughing during the scene and ruining every sketch.

Secondly, it was a chick flick disguised as a baseball movie. Instead of potentially losing her man to another woman, Drew Barrymore had to fight to keep from losing her man to the Boston Red Sox.

Finally, the whole time I was watching, I never forgot I was watching a movie. I never connected with the characters in a way that I cared what happened. If anything, I found myself enjoying the baseball scenes and reliving the 2004 playoffs than anything the movie had to offer.

In fact, if you see only one movie this year, I recommend you getting out more. However, if you're limiting yourself to just one movie, don't let it be this one.

For those who haven't seen it, here's a quick plot summary (without revealing the ending in case my diatribe against this movie isn't enough to convince you to avoid it.). Fallon is a huge Red Sox fan and hasn't missed an inning of a home game in several years. In October, 2003, he meets Barrymore and begins a relationship with her. (My first major problem with the movie. No diehard Red Sox fan would be emotionally available in October, 2003 to begin a new relationship. If you recall (or didn't know), Red Sox fans had their hearts ripped out, stomped on and handed back to them with a "better luck next time" by the Yankees, who ended the Red Sox World series dream with an extra-inning home run in Game 7. Anyone who claims to be a Red Sox fan would have been in such a deep funk that he would have been intolerable for several weeks afterward. I should know, the Cubs did that to me in 2003 and I know I wasn't pleasant to be around.)

Anyway, they date though the winter and then, when baseball season rolls around, Fallon tells Barrymore he can't meet her family in Baltimore because he and his buddies are going to Spring Training in Florida. That's when the trouble starts. Barrymore expects Fallon to make some sacrifices for him, Fallon doesn't want to give up something he's loved for the past 23 years.

This leads to my second complaint about the movie. Drew Barrymore is cute, but she's not cute enough that you would abandon your team for.

The movie has some decent one-liners and if you're not a hardcore sports fan who can tell how the directors manipulated the game footage to fit their needs, I guess it's not a terrible movie. It definitely wouldn't make Scott's 50 Movies Every Guy should Own list.

Also this weekend, we watched "The Wedding Date," which was better than "Fever Pitch," if only because it had Debra Messing in it. However, when the plot of your movie is that a woman who looks like Debra Messing can't get a date for her sister's wedding, you're again asking me to take a leap into make believe that I'm not sure needs to be taken. (Debra Messing may be someone you would consider giving up baseball for, but I think in the end, baseball would win that battle as well.)

In case you couldn't tell, Yes Dear wanted a relaxing weekend after working on her thesis for the better part of the past several months.

Weekend update: Not much to report from this weekend. Football, movies, dinner with the parents and Law & Order: Criminal Intent and Crossing Jordan pretty much took up my weekend. Sadly, I'll never get those two days back. (On a related note, I don't like Jill Hennessey's new boyfriend on Crossing Jordan. He's the stereotypical reporter - obnoxious, intrusive and downright annoying - and there's no way he could get someone as attractive as Hennessey in real life.)

Fantasy update: Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas hasn't asked me to be her publicist yet, and in other fantasy news, the Fighting Squirrels should go 1-1 this week as we currently lead 78-57 in one league, with my opponent having no one playing in tonight's game. In the other, I've lost 68-53, giving me a three-week losing streak. (And while we're on the subject of fantasy sports, do you think players ever get upset when fans complain about how the player's performance affects his fantasy team. You know the players all want to turn and yell "get a life you loser" but don't want to read about it on some message board or desultory blog.)

TV Show update: If you're not watching "How I Met Your Mother" (Monday's, 8:30 Eastern on CBS), please take 30 minutes out of your week to give it a shot. It's pretty good, plus it has Doogie Houser in it, which bumps it up about 3 notches in my book. Remember, all suggestions by The Nexus of the Universe are just that, suggestions. If you don't like it, please don't blame me for wasting 30 minutes of your life.

As always, thanks for choosing to make me a part of your day. There are thousands of blogs to choose from and I appreciate you picking mine to read.

Dancing Machine

What do you get when you cross a tap dancing hillbilly from the hills of West Virginia with a schizophrenic Elvis fan who rigged a microphone in his room so he could sing The King's songs with a documentary about the whole thing?

You get 45 minutes of entertainment that should be required viewing for anyone and everyone on this planet seeking to feel better about themselves. As luck would have it, such a documentary exists in the form of Dancing Outlaw.

The story is about Jesco White (though he asks that you call him Jessie, it's easier to say.) He is the son of the legendary (and I use that term loosely) tap dancer Donald Ray "D-Ray" White and feels its his legacy to carry on the tradition of tap dancing that his father perfected. And he'll practice anywhere. In the film, we see him (carrying a hand held radio, no less) tapping across a bridge, down by the river (next to Matt Foley's van) and even on top of the dog house in his hard. (One website described this as the "famous doghouse scene," which has to be the first time in history those words have ever been so close together in a coherent phrase.)

Truth be told, Jesco isn't nearly as good as his father (who passed away before the documentary was made.) However, I get the feeling Jesco is twice as entertaining, even if he doesn't intend to be. In fact, I'd wager to say Jesco White is a perfect 10 on the Unintentional Comedy Scale.

In addition to his tap dancing, White has one of the rooms in the trailer in which he lives dedicated to Elvis. Pictures, rugs, miniature statues adorn the room, which is covered from floor to ceiling with Elvis paraphernalia. At one point, Jesco said "If it wasn't for my Elvis room, I'd have killed myself by now." He's also got a sound system set up in the room that allows him to sing along with The King, though he amazingly doesn't know all the words. (Since watching the documentary, I've since learned Jesco's trailer burned down, and presumably all his Elvis stuff was lost in the fire.)

To say Jesco is mentally unstable would be an insult to mentally unstable people everywhere. During one interview, with his wife sitting next to him, Jesco tells of the time he held a knife up to his wife's throat and threatened to kill her if his eggs were runny again. It's funnier than it looks in print, I promise.

Speaking of his wife, Jesco's own mother doesn't know what he sees in her. "He loves her, for some reason," she said.

None of this seems to phase our hero and Jesco continues tap dancing whenever he gets the opportunity. In fact, his fame spread so far that he even mad an appearance on Roseanne. (That is the sequel, "Dancing Outlaw II: Jesco goes to Hollywood" I haven't seen that one yet.)

In trying to find the appropriate way to approach this blog, I ran across the following paragraph (believe it or not, I actually do research every now and again for this thing. This probably sums up the Dancing Outlaw experience better than anything I could write.)

"Jesco's wife, Norma Jean, tells us that Jesco is three people: "He is Jesse, he is Jesco, and he is Elvis." When he is Jesse, he is a sweet, strangely handsome, even-tempered man who "just wants good, honest dancing and for people to enjotheir selflf." When he is Elvis, he is Elvis. But when he grows out his beard and becomes Jesco, he is, as Norma Jean puts it, "the Devil in his self." We meet each of these men as the film goes along, and we spend enough time with Jesco's brothers and sisters not to have to wonder what might have caused his personality to split. Particularly incredible is a scene in which the Whites and their friends (sans Jesco and his wife, who have decided to keep a distance from the rest of the family) are shown "mud-balling," a sport that involves drinking beer out of cans and tearing the front yard to hell with their cars and trucks, often blowing their engines in the process, which delights them. "This is just a little something we do every now and then," Jesco's sister Mamie explains, "two, three times a week." (From here.)

Luke, how in the world did you come across such a bizarre thing? Official Brother's friends new a guy who knew someone who was taking a Southern Culture class at Furman University (All price of an Ivy League education, none of the prestige) who, after watching it for class, felt the need to spread the word of film fim. After seeing it myself, I feel it's my duty as a person who likes to laugh at other people to urge you to watch this movie. You won't be disappointed.

World Series Update: When I predicted the Astros would win in six games, what I meant to say was the White Sox would sweep.

Weekend plans: No big plans. Yes Dear's going tHalloweenween party tonight while I'm at work, but other than that, nothing big planned.

Have a good weekend all and, as always, I appreciate you taking the time to let me be a part of your day.

Don't Stop Believing

For reasons unbeknownst to me, the White Sox have adopted Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" as their theme song.

I'll admit it. I'm a failure as a blogger. I missed both my Monday and Tuesday deadline and I'm essentially missing my Wednesday deadline as I'm going to post some quick thoughts about the World Series.

However, I promise you, eventually I'll find the time to adequately address the Dancing Outlaw. (What's the Dancing Outlaw, you ask? Well, only the most finely crafted documentary about a hillbilly tap dancer from the hills of West Virginia that has been produced in the past 15 years. And I know your follow up question as well . . . why were you watching a documentary about a tap dancing hillbilly? Well, for the answer to that, as well as my take on the best 45 minutes of film I've seen this year, you'll have to wait until I can create a coherent post about it.)

So now, with the White Sox up three games to none in a best of seven series, here's what I've noticed so far.

1. Tim McCarver is the worst color commentator in the history of televised sports. For someone played the game for several years and who watches as much baseball as anyone else in the country, McCarver seems to have a very poor grasp of the game. Either that or he has trouble communicating what he's thinking to the viewing public. Websites have been dedicated to the eradication of Tim McCarver from the airwaves. Even Yes Dear will hear his say something and look at me with the "there's no way he's a professional broadcaster" look on his face. FOX would have been better hiring George Costanza as a commentator (It was one of his dreams, but unfortunately, as Jerry told him, they tend to give those jobs to ex-ballplayers and people who are, you know, in broadcasting, to which George responds "That's really not fair.")

2. I hope the FOX executive who approved Scooter, the talking baseball that explains to kids what different pitches are, has been strung up by his toes and used as a piñata at the FOX Christmas party. Scooter should be on his (imaginary) knees and thanking the baseball gods that McCarver still works for FOX. Otherwise, the wrath of angry baseball fans would be directed at this little, digitized ball. My favorite thing about Scooter is that the first time FOX ever used him, it was at 10:45 at night, meaning most of the target audience was already in bed. Yep, those guys at FOX really know what they're doing.

3. White Sox catcher A. J. Pierzynski looks like that guy from college who you would go out with for a good time and when you got arrested, he would sell you up the river. He has that look in his eye that he'd be more than happy to push you down the stairs (my replacement phrase for the vastly overused "throw you under the bus") if it would help him get ahead. I can only hope that his wife dumps him, loses 15 pounds, gets implants and shows up at Spring Training dating the backup catcher for the Sox. If any of you have a direct link to the baseball gods, see if you can make this happen.

4. This year's World Series may go down as the lowest rated series of all time. Part of the problem may be the tennis-match that was Game 3. (I refuse to call something a marathon game because most marathon winners finish in less than 2 hours and 15 minutes. Tennis matches, meanwhile, have been known to last four or more hours. Game 3 went 5 hours and 41 minutes, enough time for two-and-a-half marathons.) The game didn't end until 2:20 in the a.m. I made the mistake of curling up under the covers in bed at 11:30 to watch the end of the game. By 12:30, I was struggling to keep my eyes open. By 1:15, I'm pretty sure I was asleep. Fortunately, the home run call from Joe Buck woke me up at 2:15 to see the replay and catch the last bit of the game. By the way, if it weren't for the 32 oz. Mountain Dew, you wouldn't be reading this right now. In fact, if it weren't for the sweet, sweet nectar of the gods that is caffeine, I would be coming up with an excuse as to why I wasn't at work today.

5. You may not have heard, but the Simpson's Tree house of Horror is November 6. (FOX has felt the need to remind us every commercial break for the past month. At this point, I don't plan on watching out of spite.)

Belated Fantasy Update: Much like my fantasy teams, I struck out this week in the hopes that Cobie Smolders (who plays Robin on "How I Met Your Mother") would call me. The Fighting Squirrels, meanwhile, lost in both leagues, falling 75-73 in one league while falling 77-73 in the other league. If things don't improve, we'll be making some staff changes in the Squirrels front office.

Belated Weekend Update: It was homecoming at Georgia Southern, so several of my college friends all converged on Statesboro for a good time. Granted, I got about 11 hours of sleep Friday and Saturday night combined, but it was worth it. After everyone left Sunday afternoon, I went to my parents were we all watched Dancing Outlaw together. A good time was had by all.

Desperate Housewives update: Due to the World Series, I didn't watch Desperate Housewives this week. If anyone can give me an update on what happened, I would greatly appreciate it.

World Series related link of the week: Ever wondered why the Red Sox and White Sox spell their names the way they do? Wonder no more.

Thesis update: Yes Dear finished all the writing on her Thesis Tuesday night and is currently working on her presentation for the committee. If all goes well next Tuesday when she defends her thesis (I've recommended going with a zone defense), the Corona's in my refrigerator won't be there after Tuesday night.

Loser

Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby
so why don't you kill me

I know, I promised an update Monday night.Unfortunately, I haven't had the time to dedicate to writing like I planned. Sadly, you'll have to wait until tomorrow for all the great features you've come to know and tolerate here at the Nexus of the Universe, including Fantasy Update, Weekend Update and others.

All I can say is "I am sorry" and post this picture.

However, rest assured that I've stumbled across a gold mine for my next post, which will hopefully be ready tomorrow evening.

Until then, I hope you find some other way to waste the four minutes you were planning on spending here.

Sweet Home Chicago

And now for some desultory comments regarding the baseball playoffs, writers, my World Series pick and other stuff.

1. The answer to everyone's question: No, I'm not cheering for the White Sox in the World Series even though they're located in the same city as the Cubs. In fact, from what I understand, White Sox fans are leery of Cubs fans jumping on their bandwagon. Not that I blame them.

I'm the same guy who offers everyone in the office a one time offer each season to jump on the Cubs bandwagon in April. Thus far, only Yes Dear has joined me (and that only because she figures she'll be watching close to 60 games a year as well as seeing highlight every night.)

I have a general disdain for bandwagon jumpers. (Granted, I'm the same guy who, a few columns ago, suggested that Red Sox fans might have been happier if they'd changed their loyalties to the Yankees, but I wouldn't have respected them if they'd done that.) Sure, you pick a team when you're eight because you like their mascot or one of their players has the same first name that you do, but that's your team. If a team in the same city does well, you might be happy for them. Heck, you might even be cheering for them to win the World Series, but under no circumstances can you start wearing that team's hats, showing up at the ballpark and acting like a longtime fan or even celebrate (in the event that they win). The fact of the matter is that your team didn't win. Nothing else in sports matters.

2. As you may have noticed, I'm reading "Now I Can Die in Peace" by Bill Simmons. (I constantly bring this up because I read so few books that when I do read one, I want to make sure everyone knows about it.)

One of the things he manages to capture in his writing is the passion he has for the Red Sox. (No, non-sports fans, that's not a typo. There are two "Sox" franchises in baseball. I'm not sure of the origins of the names for the two teams, but there was some sort of hex placed on them. The Red Sox went from 1918 to 2004 without winning a World Series, while the White Sox haven't won a title since 1917.)

After reading each of Simmons columns, I know exactly how he felt on that particular day. Granted, writing about your favorite sports team after a loss that feels like a sucker punch to the stomach is like blogging about your relationship with your significant other right after a big fight. You're probably going to write some things you don't really mean, but at the time it feels good to write it.

Sadly, I'm still trying to capture that ability of conveying my passion in my writing. I go back and read my posts from time to time and think "my God, why is anyone reading this drivel?" I'll strive to get better, I promise.

3. Remember on "Saved by the Bell: Hawaiian Vacation" when the local tribe thought Screech was their long lost leader? I thought about that today for no reason and wanted to share that with the rest of you.

4. Detailed sports discussion here. Non-sports fans, feel free to skip ahead. I was totally shocked to see the Astros rebound the way they did after Albert Pujols' home run in game five. I was watching that game and, even though I was pulling for Houston, I wanted to see Pujols face Brad Lidge with the game on the line. After all, Lidge is the best closer in baseball and Pujols is the best hitter in the game.

In fact, Pujols has reached the point (along with Manny Ramirez and Vladimir Guerreo) as hitters I'll delay going to the bathroom to watch. (Oddly enough, I call this the bathroom test. Non-sports moments that make the list include any time Jon Stewart is on, the final 15 minutes of any Law & Order episode, and selected moments in Big Brother). Pujols is a professional hitter, meaning he's going to have a quality at bat every time. He rarely swings at anything out of the strike zone, makes solid contact and puts the fear of God into every opposition fan whenever he's at the plate. The fact that the Cubs play his team 17 times a year scares me to death.

Lidge, meanwhile, has gone from middle reliever to All-Star closer in less than two years. He's got a 98 mph fastball (sorry Canadians, I don't know what that is in kph) and a slider that, when it's working, is unhittable.

So when Pujols and Lidge were squaring off in the 9th inning of Game 5, I knew I was in for something special. Lidge threw a slider on the first pitch that made Pujols look bad. I mean really bad. Since he'd been having trouble locating his fastball, Lidge went back to the well for another slider. Well, you know what they say about going to the well once to often. Lidge's slider sat right in the middle of the plate and Pujols crushed it deep into the Houston night for an improbable comeback win for St. Louis.

In fact, on the team plane flight from Houston to St. Louis, one of Lidge's teammates walked up to him on the plane and joked "if you look our your window, you'll see the ball Pujols hit last night. It still hasn't landed."

4. World Series Pick: Having seen Houston play quite a bit this year (they also played the Cubs 17 times this season, including seven of their last 10 games), I think their pitching is too much for the White Sox to overcome. My pick: Houston in six (Note: All picks by The Nexus of the Universe are guaranteed wrong or your money back.)

Weekend update: It's Homecoming weekend here at Georgia Southern. Friends will be down, stories will be told, laughs will be had and it'll be like old times. Only several of us are married, some have kids, and we're all "responsible" adults, unlike our college years.

Georgia Southern pick: The Eagles have been up and down this year. I think they'll play decent Saturday and pull out a 24-10 win.

Thesis update: Yes Dear spent a good portion of last night putting some last minute touches on her thesis. She'll make some final minor editing changes on Monday and will be done writing it by Wednesday. She defends it on November 1 at 9 a.m. (In case you're wondering, I'll be in a Statesboro City Council meeting at that time, so I can't go support her. (Stupid job.)
Correction: Somewhere earlier in this blog, I said Yes Dear was graduating on December 10. In fact, it's on December 9.

As always, thanks for reading and until next time, take care of yourself, and each other.

Next update: Monday night

Three is the magic number . . .

Come on, you know you love School House Rock.

Bored at work one night, I started clicking the "Next Blog" button to see what interesting things I would come across on this whole internet thingy. My three observations:

1. The word "Random" appears in nearly every blog. There may not be a more overused word in blogland than "random." Honestly, there are other words that mean the same thing, including, but not limited to: chance, casual, haphazard, desultory. (Desultory?!? If I saw that, I'd definitely stop reading as whoever wrote that would obviously be much too intelligent for me to read.)
In case you're curious: desultory \DES-uhl-tor-ee\, adjective:
1. Jumping or passing from one thing or subject to another without order or rational connection; disconnected; aimless.

2. I saw this here and curiosity made me try it:

1. Delve into your blog archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.

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

That may be the most profound statement ever to appear in the Nexus of the Universe. (It also provides a convenient excuse for a gratuitous model photo.

3. There are too many blogs dealing with people's kids. Look, I'm sure you're excited that your little darling kicked the dog and then fed dirt to the goldfish, but the rest of us don't really care about your little hellion. Just tell your friends when they call you and quit wasting space in the Internet.
(And my promise to you: If and when I become a father, I pledge that no more than one post a month will be primarily about my kid. In that post, I will mock my child. But seriously, are you going to be reading in two years, or longer?)

Fantasy update: Heidi Klum hasn't left Seal yet (there's a sentence that really shouldn't ever be written), and in other fantasy news, the Fighting Squirrels won one league 87-77 while we currently trail in the other 72-62, all leading to
What I'm looking for tonight (not involving Yes Dear): I need Peyton Manning to throw touchdown passes to Brandon Stokley and Dallas Clark while Marc Bulger needs to throw a few interceptions. I'm not feeling good about the Squirrels' chances.

Great Blog alert: If you're not reading The Ex-Girlfriend Project, do yourself a favor and clear out some time to read it. You won't be disappointed.

Weekend update: Saturday involved Yes Dear waking up at 5:30 a.m. to volunteer at the Habitat for Humanity "Hoofin for Habitat" 5K race. I, on the other hand, slept until 10:30 and then watched football and baseball all afternoon. That night, we went out to dinner at Longhorn and then watched more baseball. Sunday, after church I watched football and baseball while she worked on her thesis.

Desperate Housewives Update: This week's episode picked up the pace from earlier in the season. Hats off to Bree's son Andrew for doing what any son would do if his mom started dating less than a month after his dad died. Boo to Susan for not getting Mike when she saw Zach. Lynnette's son had a new imaginary fried, but she was killed by a car. That was most amusing.

Book signing update: As promised, DC Brother mailed my book back after I posted his email detailing his ordeal: Simmons, a diehard Red Sox fan who understands the suffering a Cubs fan goes though, was kind enough to wish me luck with the Cubs.

Thanks for reading all. Until next time, take care of yourself, and each other.

Next Posting: Friday at noonish

Lonely no more

After missing on a perfectly good Matchbox 20 song earlier this month, I'm still trying to atone for that mistake. With that in mind, I give you Rob Thomas' Lonely no more.


I think I'm still married.

I'd like to be more confident about this,but the most in-depth conversation Yes Dear and I have had in the past three weeks has gone like this:

Me (after she get's home from school at 7 p.m.): What do you want to do for dinner?

Her: I don't know. I don't have time to cook and I need to get working on my thesis.

Me (knowing that if I have to cook, we'll both starve to death): Well, we could go out to eat, but I kind of wanted to watch the game.

Her (also wanting to watch the game): What time does it come on?

Me: It just started.

Her: Well, lets go somewhere where we can watch the game and eat and then, when we get back, I can work on my thesis and you can watch the game.

That's it. That's the most in-depth conversation in the past three weeks that I've had with the woman who willing took my last name. Otherwise, it's been the perfunctory "how was your day?" as she passed though the living room to go work on the computer.

We both knew that when the rubber met the road with her thesis that she'd be busy writing, proof reading and rewriting. I just don't think either of us were ready for the massive amount of time she's had to dedicate to it.

It's almost like I'm a bachelor. I can watch what I want, when I want. A ballgame I want to watch, no problem. A Law & Order night, sounds good. It's amazing. Growing up with two brothers, I didn't have this kind of freedom over the television. (Seriously, I'm going to need counseling to break this habit when she's done.) Because she's been so busy, the apartment (or, as we call it, "El Casa de Martin") hasn't had a good, through cleaning since early September. Dishes pile up in the sink until I realize we don't enough plates to prepare a sandwich. (If she'd known I was such a slob, I doubt she'd be Yes Dear.)

She feels badly about spending so much time working on her thesis. In fact, she asked me not to tell my parents (her in-laws) that she's been so busy that she hasn't cooked in three weeks. (So do me a favor, don't pass this on to my parents . . . thanks guys.) I told her she's got nothing to feel bad about, but she feels she's not being a "good wife."

She's been told she should be done with everything thesis-related by the end of the month, at which point there will be a massive celebration the likes of which most of you have probably seen before. Then, when she graduates on December 10, there will be another party, again, the likes of which you've all seen before.

And what happens after that . . . well, she's the one with the Master's Degree, so I'll probably quit my job and let her support me for a while. (By the way, if that happens, there's a nearly 100 percent chance I'll be looking for a place to stay, as well as a new wife, so if any of you can offer either of those in the event they're needed, I would appreciate it.)

Weekend plans: Yes Dear has to wake up before God to work at the Hoofin for Habitat race Saturday morning and then she's going to the Library to work on her thesis, and since I won't get home until late Friday night and will be asleep when she leaves Saturday morning, there's a chance I won't see my wife from Wednesday night (when we went to bed, she left Thursday for a conference) until Saturday evening. In other words, based on what you've read above, that's pretty much par for the course right now. I'll pass the time watching baseball, football and Saturday Night Live. Sunday, more baseball, football and Desperate Housewives.

Georgia Southern update: For those interested, Georgia Southern will be on Fox Sports South Saturday afternoon at 3:30 p.m. In other words, please don't call me Saturday afternoon at 3:30.

Next Post: Monday evening (Eastern time)

The Great Adventure

I had to dig deep into my song knowledge to come up with this one from Christian artist Steven Curtis Chapman.

Note: The following is an email from DC Brother about getting my book signed. Unless I run this on my blog, I won't get the book returned. My comments are in yellow an italicized. For my thoughts on the book (what I've read of it so far), click here.

Luke - (That's what he calls me. I blame my parents for that.)

In my backpack is a book signed by (pause as I look up his name) Bill Simmons. As the proud temporary owner of this book (possession is 9/10ths the law) I want to let you know how it came to be that (pause again) Bill Simmons came to personally sign this book. (To say DC Brother and I have different interests would be an understatement. Sports falls right after knowing Brittany Spears' favorite type of dish detergent for him. Yes Dear would tell you sports is my top priority in life. I would have disagreed with her, but there was a game on and I wasn't payin attention.)

I knew that the book signing would be from 6-8 at the ESPNZone. Conveniently locateed only a block from the metro station, which was a short ride from the station near where I work, I was excited at the possibility that I would get there early, perhaps grab a beer and watch whatever game was on, and then casually go over and get the book signed whenever I felt like it. (Obviously he doesn't realize the huge following Simmons has or he wouldn't have thought this.)

After all, a friend's birthday was that day and she was celebrating in another part of town, so I had to get over there around 8 or so. As five o'clock is approaching, I pack my bag and prepare to leave. Only a certain young lady with whom I work is having a bad day. She has just gotten notice that she has a package that has to be sent out through DHL that afternoon to somewhere in Africa.

After looking online, I notice that there is a DHL drop box 0.04 miles from the ESPNZone. Being the kindhearted soul that I am, I offer to take the package with me - two good deeds in one. What could go wrong? (English majors, correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe this is known as "foreshadowing.")

I leave the office a little after 5, carrying both the package and the book. I get off the metro at my destination and look around for a DHL drop box. After all, it is supposed to be right there on the corner of F and 12th.

I wander around for a little while, looking for a bright yellow drop box. Can't find one. (Notice the sentence fragment here.) I ask a few people. They don't know. Finally, I find a FedEx store. So, I do the logical thing and ask them if they know where the competitor's drop box is. They give dignified shrugs. One guy suggests that I enter "that door right over there, next to the entrance to the parking garage. Go down the hall and there might be one in there. So I go there and lo and behold! There are two dropboxes: one for UPS and one for FedEx.

By now, I am realizing that if there is a line for this Simmons guy, it is growing and I can't find a damn drop box. (In my apartment, we would never callously refer to him as "this Simmons guy." In our most casual of conversations, he's "The Sports Guy." As I am exiting the basement-like area, the gods of intercontinental commerce smile upon me as I see a gentleman in a DHL uniform. (Guys, Halloween is just around the corner if you're looking for costume ideas)

I ask the obvious question: "Do you work for DHL?" I get the obvious answer: "Yes."

So I ask if I can just give him the package. He takes it. Now I am off to get this book signed.

So I get in line. The entrance to ESPNZone is located at 12th and E. I am standing at 11th and E. Yep, the line at this point (5:45) was already a block long. At 7:45, I am at the entrance to ESPNZone.

At this time, the line is not only to the end of the block, but goes for some distance around the corner and out of my sight. But I get to stand and chat with Gary, the very large man who was making sure that only a certain number of people were allowed to enter the line inside ESPNZone. This reminded me of Disney World - just when you think you are about to get on the ride, you turn a corner and realize there are still 40 people ahead of you.

So I continued to wait and chat with random people inline, most of whom a) knew who this Simmons guy was and b) had actually read more than a column or two of his while standing in line for him to sign the book. (If you're interested, Simmons' website can be found here.)

One girl was hoping that he would leave his wife for her... not believing that it would actually happen, but kind of like the Fantasy Updates we see regularly. (If Yes Dear had a chance to marry the Sports Guy, I'd think long and hard about giving her a divorce if we could stay on friendly terms so I could hang out with this guy . . . I think that means I have a man-crush on him.)

So finally I am allowed in the Inner Temple, in the presence of the God of ESPNBooks. (Finally, some respect.) I finally get up there and, like sixteen year-old in the back of a Volkswagen pickup, its over in a matter of seconds.

I leave ESPNZone, not having had a beer, legs and feet tired, with a book that I'll never read signed by a guy who's name I learned an hour earlier. (For the record, Official Brother has heard of Simmons and actually read his columns . . . I'm not a total failure as an older brother.) For all this effort, I am asking that you post this email in your blog so that the readers know the amount of time and effort involved in getting the book signed. (It's also an easy blog post for me.) As soon as I see it posted, I will be happy to place the book in the mail and send it back to the arms of one who cares for it.

DC Brother

Fantasy update: Even though she considered the World's Most Beautiful woman, Aishwarya Rai hasn't seen fit to tour Statesboro, Ga. to visit me yet. In other Fantasy news, fantasy baseball is over, so you'll have to wait until March or early April for another update. In football, meanwhile, the Fighting squirrels are leading in one league 83-37 while trailing 70-47 in the other, all leading to
What I'm looking for tonight (not involving Yes Dear): I need LaDanian Tomlinson, Hines Ward and Antwaan Randle El to all score quite a bit tonight (on the field. What scoring they do on their own time is really none of my business.)

Desperate Housewives update: I thought it was a fairly slow episode, despite the Applewhite's captive in the basement escaping for a few seconds. I'm intrigued by the whole "Bree murdered her husband" story, but in a strange bit of writing, the storyline isn't moving quickly enough. Let's hope next week is better.

Weekend update: Well, after getting off work at around midnight, I head to my car to go home. Sadly, my car has decided it's done for the night. A dead battery curtails my plans of going home. I call Yes Dear (who is out with friends who came down for the weekend) and ask her to come get me. She does and I get home to go to bed because . . . Georgia Southern has a noon kickoff. Before that, we have to go jump my car, go to an auto parts store, get a battery, return home to pick up the out-of-town friends and then head to the stadium.

After the game (which Georgia Southern won 45-7), I was spent. Yes Dear and her friends head off for a night on the town (shopping and dinner) while I crash on the couch watching football and baseball. Sunday, after church, I continue my crashing on the couch, but enjoyed one of the best baseball games of the year, the 18-inning affair between the Braves and Astros. Shame on you if you missed it.

Until next time, take care of yourself, and each other.

You keep me hanging on

Set me free, why don't you babe/ Get out my life Why don't you babe
Cos you really don't want me/ You just keep me hanging on
No you really don't need me/ You just keep me hanging on

When I was nine years old, I was going to be a professional football player. I was going to be the quarterback for the Denver Broncos and win several Super Bowls and go to the Hall of Fame.

Sure, there were obstacles in my way. For example, my parents wouldn't let me play organized football because they thought it was to dangerous. But that was just a minor detail that I'm sure the scouts would overlook.

When Official Brother reached the ripe old age of nine, he had different career aspirations. Instead of being a professional athlete or a lawyer he wanted to be a hearse driver. Since all kids look forward to driving, this was the dream job. He could drive all over town and since there wouldn't be any conversation coming from the back, he could blast the radio as loud as he wanted.

What can I say . . . he had a point.

Note: Sadly, the blogger picture thingy isn't working or you'd be looking at a picture of a hearse right now . . . if they get it fixed, I'll try to add the photo.

However, we both grew up and our dreams faded away. But we were nine when we had those aspirations. No one actually makes lifelong decisions at that age . . . except for one.

By nine, you've picked your favorite sports team. For me, it was the Cubs, for most everyone else in south Georgia at the time, it was the Braves. (Though, in all honesty, most people "claim" to have been Braves fans during the rough era of the 80s, despite the fact that no one, and I mean NO ONE went to the games. It wasn't until they started winning in 1991 that they all came out of the closet and claimed to be diehard Braves fans.)

Nearly 20 years later, I'm still a Cubs fan. But why? They've given me much more heartache than joy over the years. I mean, four winning seasons since 1987. I wouldn't take this kind of return on my investment from anything else. If I ended up buying a crappy car that needed to go to the shop every three months, I'd get rid of it. If Yes Dear treated me that poorly when we were dating, she wouldn't be Yes Dear. But I can sell a car or dump a girlfriend and society is ok with that.

However, society would label me a bandwagon fan or fair weather fan if I changed my favorite team. At no other point in life are we expected to make permanent decisions at nine-years old. If we did, the world would be overrun with fireman and astronauts.

But sports is different. Judging from the Red Sox fans reaction after winning the World Series last year, the thrill of victory is worth much more than the agony of defeat for all those years. And while that's nice for the fans still here, what about the fans who died during the previous 86 years waiting for a Red Sox title. If they'd jumped on the Yankee bandwagon, their life would have had much more joy at the culmination of baseball season.

So here I am, another postseason with the Cubs not involved. I'm not going to abandon my favorite team, but from now on, I won't look down on people who do in favor of a more successful team.

Health Update: I wish I smoked. At least that way I'd have a reason for this nagging cough that I've had since Monday. Other than that, I feel good.

Weekend plans: Yes Dear has three of her girlfriends coming into town. I'll watch baseball while they do whatever it is girls do when they get together. (According to Jerry Seinfeld, they go for coffee before returning home to strip to their bra and panties for a tickle fight. Having no evidence of my own, I'm willing to believe that)

On Deck: A special blog post from DC Brother about his quest to get my book signed.

Wake me up when September ends

In an effort to atone for my poor title selection in Friday's post, I give you the very appropriate "Wake me up when September ends" by Green Day.

One of my friendly coworkers asked me during the last week of September what it was like to follow a baseball team that had nothing to play for in September. Because of our good-natured sports banter during the season, I know he was only partially asking to rub salt in the wound of a Cubs fan. Also, because he's a Braves fan and hasn't had a meaningless September since the year after the Berlin Wall came down, he was probably genuinely curious as to what it was like.

I thought about it for a while, trying to come up with an analogy that would make sense in describing watching something that, in the long run, is essentially meaningless. Sure the players could add to their individual stats and maybe some of the younger players could impress the coaching staff enough to get a shot at making the team next year, but no fan has ever looked back at a disappointing season and said "man, I'm glad we got to play those young guys this year. That more than makes up for missing the playoffs."

Then, like a Derrek Lee home run, it hit me.

Remember the movie Old Yeller when the kid has to take Old Yeller out back to shoot him because the dog got rabies. That's what it's like watching meaningless baseball in September. You're making the long walk out behind the barn to put the season out of its misery. When the final out is made, you're all set pull the trigger.

But it's not all bad. After the initial disappointment, you realize you're going to get a new dog next spring. Sure, it'll be slightly different from the dog you loved this season, but you'll grow to love that dog just as much. You'll have high hopes for it, watching it early in the season at it develops its personality. You'll overlook it's flaws at first, convinced other dogs' flaws are worse. But over time, you'll realize your dog isn't as fast or strong as the other canines in the yard. Eventually you'll have to come to realization that your dog isn't the best of the bunch this year either and you'll take the long walk out to shoot him as well.

But there's always that one team that ends up winning the title. How does the Old Yeller analogy work there? Well, that's the dog that ends up getting stuffed and used as an end table to be remembered for years to come.

And that, Eddie, is what it's like to watch meaningless baseball in September.

Fantasy Update:Much like the disappointment I feel by not getting a call from Denise Richards, the Fighting Squirrels let me down, falling in the baseball championship. Nevertheless, it was a good run for the Fighting Squirrels and we've already begun scouting for next year. In football, the Squirrels are winning in one league while trailing in the other, which leads us to . . .
What I'm looking for tonight (not involving Yes Dear): I need the Packers to win big and Brett Favre to throw to Ahman Green and Bubba Franks early and often.

Cubs Update: The Cubs finished the year 79-83 and watching the playoffs from the comforts of their own home. As best I can tell, only two of the seven positions are locked up for next year, so there could be quite a bit of change from this year's team. Only time will tell.

Health update: I spent all weekend taking either DayQuil or NyQuil. It was not the most eventful of weekends.

Until next time, take care of yourself, and each other.