Thursday, January 06, 2005
Of Love And Sports (Part 1)
Every heterosexual man in America wishes his wife or girlfriend was a sportsfan. The concept seems like a grown man's unicorn, doesn't it? Beautiful, mythically intriguing, so crisp in one's imagination and yet it does not exist in real life. Remember Eleanor from "Gone in 60 Seconds?" She was the one car that stood out above all others and yet it was the one car Nick Cage could never steal. Doesn't that kind of fit the average single guy's love life, you find a woman with everything you're looking for...except a love for sports. She's gorgeous, intelligent, down-to-earth and thinks you're the funniest man in the world, but she just doesn't get how you can sit through a three-hour baseball game. It's the one elusive quality that makes all dateable women come up just short of perfection.
Just imagine the possibilities. Instead of losing hair trying to figure out how you can postpone dinner and a movie until ten o'clock when the game is over, all you would have to do is agree on where you're going to watch said game.
"Honey, would you like to go out to dinner tomorrow night and then catch the new Hugh Grant movie?" a whipped (wise) man would ask.
"Are you kidding? The Angels are in a friggin' pennant race and you wanna talk about Hugh Grant? Let's go to The National and watch the game."
I mean, can you even fathom the unbridled joy of that conversation? And that's just the beginning. It would mean having a timeout from all social and relationship etiquette any time a game is on the line. For example, there was an episode of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" in Season One where Larry gets in trouble with his wife because he doesn't pay enough attention to her when she happens to return from a trip during the last two minutes of a football game. She tortures him with cold silence the rest of the night and he finds himself in a damn jewelry store the next day having to buy his way out of it.
Let's rewind that scene and play it again only this time Larry's wife is a sportsfan...Suddenly, the front door flies open and a madwoman comes barreling through into the living room. For a half a second, Larry thinks he's the victim of home invasion until he realizes he's legally bound to the intruder.
"Turn it to channel 7! Turn it to channel 7!" she screams.
She dives onto the couch without giving Larry so much as a glance. Does he care? Of course not; there's two minutes left in the damn game!
"What a comeback," she adds, "Did you see the catch at the end of the 3rd?! I heard it on the radio and it even sounded incredible!"
In five minutes of real time, the game is over, a winner is decided, and Larry and his wife exchange pleasantries.
Isn't that how these things should really work? So why can't they? Why can't women love sports as much as we do? Better yet, why can't they even understand how much we love sports? If she doesn't want to watch the game, that's fine; I'll settle for a woman not giving me flack because I do. I would bet you a new set of snow tires that if the rate of women who loved sports were to rise significantly, the divorce rate in America would consequently nosedive. The football quiz Steve Guttenberg gives his fiance in "Diner" would no longer be an outrageous, comedic notion; it would be as common as a bachelor party. Couples wouldn't just remember "our first Christmas," they'd fawn over "our first Superbowl." Not to mention the fact that you would never once have to hear this comment from a girlfriend or wife ever again: "we never just talk anymore."
If man and woman both loved sports, they'd never shut up! They'd have conversations more interesting than a David Mamet movie with French subtitles! Rather than the normal trap of "Sweetie, do you think I'm as skinny as I was when we met?" you'd have a goldmine of questions like "If you and I were on the same team, where we would bat in the order, respectively?" and "If we were a QB-WR combo, who would we be?" The essence of these questions is as relevant to a relationship as "Where do you see this going?" but look how much more interesting they become when they are in the context of sports. And that's just the dinner/coffee banter. The sexual innuendos would tip the scales.
"How's the arm, ace? Think you can give me a complete game tonight?"
"Baby, let's play two."
"Are you a power back or a finesse back?"
"Girl, I'm like the '88 Raiders. I can juke like Marcus Allen and stiff-arm like Bo Jackson."
We all know about Make-Up Sex, but can you grasp the earth-shattering lovemaking that would follow a mutually enjoyed Game 7 in the Bronx?! World Series Sex! The Rams-Titans Superbowl would have brought us The Greatest Sex On Turf! And it works both ways, the delirium and the misery. Say you and your woman have just seen your team swept out of the playoffs by your archrival. You're both going to feel like dirt, but at least you won't have to explain it to each other. You can piss and moan and cry in your beers together. Well, you can cry in your beer and she can cry in her cosmopolitan. You get my point.
If women loved sports, men would have no reason to lie, cheat, or steal. Okay, so that's going too far, but is there any doubt that we'd live longer and happier lives, both literally and in our relationships with women? It's actually cruel to even entertain such questions because even the most hopeful of young men realize one simple truth, dateable women will never love sports.
Consider this Part One on the subject, The Pros. Part Two will be, you guessed it, The Cons. In the meantime, tawk amongst yourselves.
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Just imagine the possibilities. Instead of losing hair trying to figure out how you can postpone dinner and a movie until ten o'clock when the game is over, all you would have to do is agree on where you're going to watch said game.
"Honey, would you like to go out to dinner tomorrow night and then catch the new Hugh Grant movie?" a whipped (wise) man would ask.
"Are you kidding? The Angels are in a friggin' pennant race and you wanna talk about Hugh Grant? Let's go to The National and watch the game."
I mean, can you even fathom the unbridled joy of that conversation? And that's just the beginning. It would mean having a timeout from all social and relationship etiquette any time a game is on the line. For example, there was an episode of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" in Season One where Larry gets in trouble with his wife because he doesn't pay enough attention to her when she happens to return from a trip during the last two minutes of a football game. She tortures him with cold silence the rest of the night and he finds himself in a damn jewelry store the next day having to buy his way out of it.
Let's rewind that scene and play it again only this time Larry's wife is a sportsfan...Suddenly, the front door flies open and a madwoman comes barreling through into the living room. For a half a second, Larry thinks he's the victim of home invasion until he realizes he's legally bound to the intruder.
"Turn it to channel 7! Turn it to channel 7!" she screams.
She dives onto the couch without giving Larry so much as a glance. Does he care? Of course not; there's two minutes left in the damn game!
"What a comeback," she adds, "Did you see the catch at the end of the 3rd?! I heard it on the radio and it even sounded incredible!"
In five minutes of real time, the game is over, a winner is decided, and Larry and his wife exchange pleasantries.
Isn't that how these things should really work? So why can't they? Why can't women love sports as much as we do? Better yet, why can't they even understand how much we love sports? If she doesn't want to watch the game, that's fine; I'll settle for a woman not giving me flack because I do. I would bet you a new set of snow tires that if the rate of women who loved sports were to rise significantly, the divorce rate in America would consequently nosedive. The football quiz Steve Guttenberg gives his fiance in "Diner" would no longer be an outrageous, comedic notion; it would be as common as a bachelor party. Couples wouldn't just remember "our first Christmas," they'd fawn over "our first Superbowl." Not to mention the fact that you would never once have to hear this comment from a girlfriend or wife ever again: "we never just talk anymore."
If man and woman both loved sports, they'd never shut up! They'd have conversations more interesting than a David Mamet movie with French subtitles! Rather than the normal trap of "Sweetie, do you think I'm as skinny as I was when we met?" you'd have a goldmine of questions like "If you and I were on the same team, where we would bat in the order, respectively?" and "If we were a QB-WR combo, who would we be?" The essence of these questions is as relevant to a relationship as "Where do you see this going?" but look how much more interesting they become when they are in the context of sports. And that's just the dinner/coffee banter. The sexual innuendos would tip the scales.
"How's the arm, ace? Think you can give me a complete game tonight?"
"Baby, let's play two."
"Are you a power back or a finesse back?"
"Girl, I'm like the '88 Raiders. I can juke like Marcus Allen and stiff-arm like Bo Jackson."
We all know about Make-Up Sex, but can you grasp the earth-shattering lovemaking that would follow a mutually enjoyed Game 7 in the Bronx?! World Series Sex! The Rams-Titans Superbowl would have brought us The Greatest Sex On Turf! And it works both ways, the delirium and the misery. Say you and your woman have just seen your team swept out of the playoffs by your archrival. You're both going to feel like dirt, but at least you won't have to explain it to each other. You can piss and moan and cry in your beers together. Well, you can cry in your beer and she can cry in her cosmopolitan. You get my point.
If women loved sports, men would have no reason to lie, cheat, or steal. Okay, so that's going too far, but is there any doubt that we'd live longer and happier lives, both literally and in our relationships with women? It's actually cruel to even entertain such questions because even the most hopeful of young men realize one simple truth, dateable women will never love sports.
Consider this Part One on the subject, The Pros. Part Two will be, you guessed it, The Cons. In the meantime, tawk amongst yourselves.
# posted by j.h.k. @ 6:17 PM 
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
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An "Average" Win
Oh...Hell...Yes.
After weeks of trashtalking by Oklahoma's Larry Birdine, the USC Trojans finally issued a retort in the form of a 55-19 ass-whooping. The game was sponsored by Fedex and the Trojans' domination came signed, sealed, and delivered before the first quarter expired. Sometimes numbers speak louder than words.
Even more shocking than Birdine's outlandish comments was the fact that he is not even a starter for the once proud Sooners, a tidbit I did not learn until last night and one which caused me to almost drop a pitcher in laughter. I've read every Orange Bowl article I could get my hands on today and I watched last night's Sportscenter three times. I can't believe nobody tracked down Larry Birdine to ask him for his postgame analysis of a team he had previously called "average." That's not poor sportsmanship and it's not in poor taste; that's just fundamental journalism. I mean, what are comments like his worth without a follow-up?
Since everyone with a press pass fumbled like Adrian Peterson after meeting his cardinal-clad maker, I'll ask the questions here that should have been asked at Loquacious Larry's locker...
Larry, do you still feel that USC is just an average team? If they had beaten you by more than 36 points, would you be convinced that they are, perhaps, above average?
How do you explain the 332 yards and 5 touchdowns without an interception that the overrated Matt Leinart threw?
If after such a big-game performance you think Matt Leinart still should not have received the Heisman, what is your assessment of your teammate, Jason White?
Since he followed up his 0 TD, 2 INT choke in the Sugar Bowl with a 2 TD, 3 INT flop in the Orange Bowl and with your strict standards for Heisman winners, do you think he should be stripped of his trophy?
After saying that nobody other than Reggie Bush really stood out to you, did you get a chance to meet Lendale White this evening? He was the guy that walked all over you for 118 yards and 2 touchdowns in a mere 15 carries. You guys should talk.
But enough about Larry. His comments turned out to be nothing more than a postgame joke. Allow me to praise the USC Trojans and the Trojan coaching staff for conducting themselves like gentlemen heading into the game, and for standing tall like men throughout the game. We found out very quickly who the fraud was in this game. USC did it's talking on the field, took an emotionally fragile Oklahoma team by the ear, and forced them to listen and listen good. USC once again stands for more than University of Southern California; USC stands for Pride, Courage, and Integrity. They have left no doubt about that.
Pete Carroll guided his defense with the all-knowing confidence of a jedi knight. After watching SC's defenders pummel Adrian Peterson with punishing gang tackles time and time again, one had to wonder if Pete was dialing up actual plays or just using The Force.
Norm Chow, or Krang as I have now dubbed him, might as well have kicked his feet up and lit a cigar in the first quarter as it became quickly obvious that Bob Stoops' defensive scheming was about as complex as a game of fetch. I would not be surprised if all those shots of Chow looking perplexed in the booth had actually caught him engrossed in the New York Times crossword puzzle.
Steve Smith followed a brilliant fingertip catch with a one-handed job while piggybacking an OU defender while laying down in the endzone. That latter catch, I decree, was the greatest catch in the history of sports. That 'ol Dwight Clark thing? Slice-and-bake cookie dough compared to Steve Smith's creme brule. My buddy The Cruiser suggested Jim edmonds' over-the-shoulder Willie Mays impersonation was better. I would agree if he had caught it with his bare hand and a 200-lb. man on his back. Number 2 is the new Number 1.
That's the thing with SC these days...We've always got it backwards. Everytime they're supposed to suffer some dropoff (Palmer, Williams, Colbert), they only get better (Leinart, Jarrett, Smith). I'm not saying one player is better than another, just that their perceived weaknesses turn out to be their greatest strengths. Is there a better definition of a well-coached team?
I leave you with one final quote as I frolic from cloud nine to cloud eleven (as in National Championships), my buddy Scott said this about Norm Chow...
"Norm Chow is like Tupac, he'll be dead for seven years and he'll still be coming out with new plays."
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After weeks of trashtalking by Oklahoma's Larry Birdine, the USC Trojans finally issued a retort in the form of a 55-19 ass-whooping. The game was sponsored by Fedex and the Trojans' domination came signed, sealed, and delivered before the first quarter expired. Sometimes numbers speak louder than words.
Even more shocking than Birdine's outlandish comments was the fact that he is not even a starter for the once proud Sooners, a tidbit I did not learn until last night and one which caused me to almost drop a pitcher in laughter. I've read every Orange Bowl article I could get my hands on today and I watched last night's Sportscenter three times. I can't believe nobody tracked down Larry Birdine to ask him for his postgame analysis of a team he had previously called "average." That's not poor sportsmanship and it's not in poor taste; that's just fundamental journalism. I mean, what are comments like his worth without a follow-up?
Since everyone with a press pass fumbled like Adrian Peterson after meeting his cardinal-clad maker, I'll ask the questions here that should have been asked at Loquacious Larry's locker...
Larry, do you still feel that USC is just an average team? If they had beaten you by more than 36 points, would you be convinced that they are, perhaps, above average?
How do you explain the 332 yards and 5 touchdowns without an interception that the overrated Matt Leinart threw?
If after such a big-game performance you think Matt Leinart still should not have received the Heisman, what is your assessment of your teammate, Jason White?
Since he followed up his 0 TD, 2 INT choke in the Sugar Bowl with a 2 TD, 3 INT flop in the Orange Bowl and with your strict standards for Heisman winners, do you think he should be stripped of his trophy?
After saying that nobody other than Reggie Bush really stood out to you, did you get a chance to meet Lendale White this evening? He was the guy that walked all over you for 118 yards and 2 touchdowns in a mere 15 carries. You guys should talk.
But enough about Larry. His comments turned out to be nothing more than a postgame joke. Allow me to praise the USC Trojans and the Trojan coaching staff for conducting themselves like gentlemen heading into the game, and for standing tall like men throughout the game. We found out very quickly who the fraud was in this game. USC did it's talking on the field, took an emotionally fragile Oklahoma team by the ear, and forced them to listen and listen good. USC once again stands for more than University of Southern California; USC stands for Pride, Courage, and Integrity. They have left no doubt about that.
Pete Carroll guided his defense with the all-knowing confidence of a jedi knight. After watching SC's defenders pummel Adrian Peterson with punishing gang tackles time and time again, one had to wonder if Pete was dialing up actual plays or just using The Force.
Norm Chow, or Krang as I have now dubbed him, might as well have kicked his feet up and lit a cigar in the first quarter as it became quickly obvious that Bob Stoops' defensive scheming was about as complex as a game of fetch. I would not be surprised if all those shots of Chow looking perplexed in the booth had actually caught him engrossed in the New York Times crossword puzzle.
Steve Smith followed a brilliant fingertip catch with a one-handed job while piggybacking an OU defender while laying down in the endzone. That latter catch, I decree, was the greatest catch in the history of sports. That 'ol Dwight Clark thing? Slice-and-bake cookie dough compared to Steve Smith's creme brule. My buddy The Cruiser suggested Jim edmonds' over-the-shoulder Willie Mays impersonation was better. I would agree if he had caught it with his bare hand and a 200-lb. man on his back. Number 2 is the new Number 1.
That's the thing with SC these days...We've always got it backwards. Everytime they're supposed to suffer some dropoff (Palmer, Williams, Colbert), they only get better (Leinart, Jarrett, Smith). I'm not saying one player is better than another, just that their perceived weaknesses turn out to be their greatest strengths. Is there a better definition of a well-coached team?
I leave you with one final quote as I frolic from cloud nine to cloud eleven (as in National Championships), my buddy Scott said this about Norm Chow...
"Norm Chow is like Tupac, he'll be dead for seven years and he'll still be coming out with new plays."
# posted by j.h.k. @ 1:02 PM
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
The Arte Moreno Of Who The Hell Do You Think You're Fooling?
Here's a quote from this article in today's LA Times:
Moreno's research indicates the name change would help convince national advertisers and broadcasters that the Angels appeal to an audience across Southern California -- and to pay more for reaching that potential audience of 16 million.
Where did Tricky Arte perform this alleged research? Can we see some sort of chart, graph, or printout, please? That might help to cushion the blow. Arte Moreno did not make a fortune selling billboard space without having good business sense. I want to have faith in his guidance, but his latest move is so utterly asinine that I cannot bear the burden of patience.
I know I am both preaching to the choir and beating a dead horse simultaneously, yet I must ask, why would slapping "Los Angeles" onto the franchise make national advertisers forget that the team plays in Anaheim? Does he honestly believe that advertisers are going to blindly agree to pay more money in broadcast rights based solely on a ridiculous team name? I would think national advertisers would require hard demographic proof that the Angels reach this potential audience of 16 million before they pledge multi-millions themselves.
Just for the sake of argument, let's concede that they are that dumb, that they'll see the "Los Angeles" on the front end of the five-word team name and say "Hey, that's an LA team! They command LA dollars!" Doesn't the current swirl of media attention kind of ruin that charade? These past two days, everyone from Sporstcenter to The Pearly Gates is pointing and laughing at the Angels like they're a 4th-grade kid trying to pass off Payless Pro Wings as the new Air Jordans. Aren't the media and team executives pulling back the curtain on this 2nd rate slight of hand trick Arte is trying to pull? I mean, I can legally rename myself William Jefferson Clinton if I want to, but somebody's going to figure out I'm not the former President before they give me a book deal.
Here's a novel idea: instead of trying to fool advertisers into believing you appeal to a greater LA population of 16 million, why don't you work to actually appeal to those 16 million? Cutting corners and trying to cheat the people into believing this is their team will not accomplish that but, rather, will have an adverse effect. Continue to put a superior product on the field and the people of greater Los Angeles will come. Show advertisers demographic data proving that both LA and Orange Counties watch the team on TV and in person and you will have all you need to get the bigger contract. As an Angel fan of Glendale, I will gladly fill out whatever kind of demographic survey you need if it will help the team.
Arte, you bought the team and we held our collective breath. You cut beer prices and we raised an interested brow. You signed Bartolo Colon and Vladimir Guerrero and we exhaled an almighty Angel cheer. You had an identity of a fan-friendly owner who wanted to win. The team (finally) was beginning to establish an image as a perennial contender and a serious baseball club. By playing your foolish version of advertising Scrabble with the Angels' team name, you have changed your identity to that of an old-fashioned scam artist complete with pencil-thin mustache. And the team's role in the league to that of a laughingstock. As it would appear both last and least in your interests, we The Fans, wince as we remove the knife from our collective back.
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Moreno's research indicates the name change would help convince national advertisers and broadcasters that the Angels appeal to an audience across Southern California -- and to pay more for reaching that potential audience of 16 million.
Where did Tricky Arte perform this alleged research? Can we see some sort of chart, graph, or printout, please? That might help to cushion the blow. Arte Moreno did not make a fortune selling billboard space without having good business sense. I want to have faith in his guidance, but his latest move is so utterly asinine that I cannot bear the burden of patience.
I know I am both preaching to the choir and beating a dead horse simultaneously, yet I must ask, why would slapping "Los Angeles" onto the franchise make national advertisers forget that the team plays in Anaheim? Does he honestly believe that advertisers are going to blindly agree to pay more money in broadcast rights based solely on a ridiculous team name? I would think national advertisers would require hard demographic proof that the Angels reach this potential audience of 16 million before they pledge multi-millions themselves.
Just for the sake of argument, let's concede that they are that dumb, that they'll see the "Los Angeles" on the front end of the five-word team name and say "Hey, that's an LA team! They command LA dollars!" Doesn't the current swirl of media attention kind of ruin that charade? These past two days, everyone from Sporstcenter to The Pearly Gates is pointing and laughing at the Angels like they're a 4th-grade kid trying to pass off Payless Pro Wings as the new Air Jordans. Aren't the media and team executives pulling back the curtain on this 2nd rate slight of hand trick Arte is trying to pull? I mean, I can legally rename myself William Jefferson Clinton if I want to, but somebody's going to figure out I'm not the former President before they give me a book deal.
Here's a novel idea: instead of trying to fool advertisers into believing you appeal to a greater LA population of 16 million, why don't you work to actually appeal to those 16 million? Cutting corners and trying to cheat the people into believing this is their team will not accomplish that but, rather, will have an adverse effect. Continue to put a superior product on the field and the people of greater Los Angeles will come. Show advertisers demographic data proving that both LA and Orange Counties watch the team on TV and in person and you will have all you need to get the bigger contract. As an Angel fan of Glendale, I will gladly fill out whatever kind of demographic survey you need if it will help the team.
Arte, you bought the team and we held our collective breath. You cut beer prices and we raised an interested brow. You signed Bartolo Colon and Vladimir Guerrero and we exhaled an almighty Angel cheer. You had an identity of a fan-friendly owner who wanted to win. The team (finally) was beginning to establish an image as a perennial contender and a serious baseball club. By playing your foolish version of advertising Scrabble with the Angels' team name, you have changed your identity to that of an old-fashioned scam artist complete with pencil-thin mustache. And the team's role in the league to that of a laughingstock. As it would appear both last and least in your interests, we The Fans, wince as we remove the knife from our collective back.
# posted by j.h.k. @ 1:59 PM
Let's Get One Thing Straight
This has nothing to do with sports and it's not even interesting, but I want to get it on record.
There's a saying I have heard used quite a bit lately and it's been used incorrectly. Almost every day I hear or read someone saying "I could care less." Take a second look at that quote and you'll realize that as it's stated here, it implies that the person does indeed care about the issue in question. If a person could actually care less, they obviously care to some extent to begin with.
The correct phrase is "I couldn't care less," which makes sense, and, until recently, that is how I have always heard it used. Somehow, a perfectly clear and comprehensible saying has gone horribly awry. I implore all four of my readers to take whatever steps are necessary to curb this brutal disregard for the proper usage of the English language.
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There's a saying I have heard used quite a bit lately and it's been used incorrectly. Almost every day I hear or read someone saying "I could care less." Take a second look at that quote and you'll realize that as it's stated here, it implies that the person does indeed care about the issue in question. If a person could actually care less, they obviously care to some extent to begin with.
The correct phrase is "I couldn't care less," which makes sense, and, until recently, that is how I have always heard it used. Somehow, a perfectly clear and comprehensible saying has gone horribly awry. I implore all four of my readers to take whatever steps are necessary to curb this brutal disregard for the proper usage of the English language.
# posted by j.h.k. @ 12:08 AM
Monday, January 03, 2005
Proud Home Of The 2004 Fantasy Football Champion
# posted by j.h.k. @ 6:13 PM
ALL HAIL THE CHAMP!
Happy New Year everybody! I'd like to start the year off with a ba-bang and announce that over the holiday break, I captured the first of what promises to be many fantasy sports championships. To quote the i-ching known as Old School, "Call me sir, you son of a bitch!" Even though I sustained significant injuries and wallowed as the league doormat for much of the season, I entered the Playoffs with a full head of steam. As the 8th of 8 seeds, I renamed my team, first The Trojan Horse, then The Upset Special and lived up to both by steamrolling everyone in my path! And whose team did I step on in the SuperBowl en route to the illustrious title of Fantasy Football God, you ask? It was none other than my brash, Republican counterpart over at Soapbox Politics, the Proud Puritan himself, Adam Partridge. Since I was forced to eat crow on this blog after losing to St. Partridge earlier this season, I relish the opportunity to redeem myself in the same venue.
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# posted by j.h.k. @ 6:11 PM
