Tied Up, Baby

It's amazing how quickly emotions can turn with one swing of the bat. I went from embarassingly strong levels of shame to complete and total elation in the span of about 4 seconds, all thanks to the Golden Boy's opposite-field dinger. God I love baseball.

Shake and Bake

What's the creepiest part of this video? Is it:
a.)The music
b.)The dancing
c.)The dancer
d.)The guy working the radio
e.)All of the above

Classic(al) Rock

All you people that got married in the last year, you missed out on this kid. Think of the moshing!!! (Thanks, Sung Sook, for finding this first.)

Stop Filming Me!

For Hire? I'm going to hire him to follow me around all day at work. Just to spice things up.

"It's Like Mardi Gras, but Without the Fun"

56 or 59 weeks after Hurricane Katrina, the New Orleans Saints played at the Louisianna Superdome for the first time. ESPN carried the game on Monday Night Football, they beat the Falcons, and everybody was happy--Michael Vick and Reggie Bush on the primetime game. And in typical fashion, media coverage blew this game way out of proportion and made it out to be more important than it really was. ESPN, as much as I love that company for all the time I've wasted in my life watching their programming, is strictly to blame here.

Football, no matter how much you love the game, is not important. It's a game. Last night featured two 2-0 divisional rivals, with marquee names on both sides. It was a game that featured plenty of fantasy football implications. But that's it. It was not a statement to the rebirth of New Orleans, or the fighting spirit of its people. It was not a benchmark of reconstruction progress for the city and its surrounding areas. It was a football game.

Ever since the falling of the World Trade Center towers 5 years ago, sports has taken itself too seriously. With the Mets and the Yankees taking the field wearing NYPD and FDNY hats as part of their uniforms, Rudy Guliani throwing out first pitch after first pitch, and George Bush himself attending damn near every game like a native New Yorker, Sports began to tell people that they were part of the healing process, an outlet for people to celebrate and forget--if only momentarily--the horrors of the things that happened. Well, Sports was wrong--they're just games. Nothing more, nothing less. The Yankees and Mets did not get anybody into new homes, recover lost relatives, or reconstruct lives. They played baseball games, and people watched.

Now the Superdome has been reopened. Media types got so lost in the hype lastnight that they were referring to the dome as "beautiful". Most people in this area will tell you that no amount of money will make any dome "beautiful". It's an indoor stadium in a nice-weather area with Field Turf--the very same surface that carpets our Metrodome. Find anyone to tell you that that looks beautiful.

The State of Louisiana and Tom Barton, owner of the Saints, used approximately $185 million to refurbish and reopen the Superdome. One resident (unnamed, of course, because nobody really said this but ESPN needed something to run with) stated "now that we've rebuilt our Big House, it's time to rebuild the rest of the houses." Well, with $185 million getting distributed to housing developments and such to reconstruct neighborhoods, people now without houses could've watched the Saints play at LSU from their living rooms on TV. $185 million builds a lot of houses.

I understand how sports can be a momentary distraction--I watch more than the average person not getting paid to do so. But to give a game in Week 3 the importance of a playoff game or the importance of getting one's life back together is absolutely horrible. I should've seen this coming while watching the Vikings and the Redskins on MNF during Week 1. ESPN spent a lot of money into aquiring MNF, and are working as hard as they can to make sure everyone knows about it. Highlight packages from an otherwise uneventful game (if you're not a fan of either team) were replayed over and over and over all throughout the week. Granted, it was Week 1 and ESPN's first MNF game, but still, it was definately overkill. Looking down the road, I should have been prepared for this one.

I'm glad the Saints won, because I like their team (well, Reggie Bush and Drew Brees). I watched the game because I had Warrick Dunn for one of my fantasy teams and was going against him in another. Do I feel like my conscience is clean and I can put all the horrible details of Hurricane Katrina behind me, now that the Loisiana Superdome has reopened and the Saints are no longer vagabonds? No, but ESPN tells me its a huge step.

"They gonna crucify me!"

It was a long weekend, work-wise, and the money wasn't really there to reflect it. Friday night was busy right from the start--which for me was an hour early. Due to scheduling mishaps and any general sense of leadership, things were officially Fucked Up at four o'clock. So I came on early, another guy comes on, problem solved. We stayed busy for the entire night, and things went well and Pete and I made good money. Saturday was long for the fact that it was the polar opposite of Friday--horribly slow (as usual) until 10 p.m. Standing around and doing nothing will make a guy pretty bored pretty quick. Mandy came by Friday night after hanging out with Stacey, and proceeded to get herself drunker than Odell Thurman, which was entertaining because I haven't seen her that loaded since we were in Santa Monica for a wedding. High comedy. Saturday night marked her return, this time opting for water and a BBQ Pork sandwich rather than 3-5 Jameson/rocks combos.

Another fun thing from Saturday was the handing out of nick names (due to boredom). We now have Showtunes, Angel Hair, Ladyfingers, and DooDoo Brown (guess who got that one). More to come this week--I think I have a good one for the Wednesday Night Management Team, aka The Ashland Management Company--Crotch and Snatch. Kind of like Puke and Snot (for all you Rennaisance Festival fans out there), but minus the comedy, personality, location, and clothing. But otherwise, dead-on.

I have to finish moving out of the old house this week. We've had the entire month of September to finish this task up, and here I am, last week of the month, getting ready to take it on. Typical.

The Twins Magic Number for the Wild Card is now 2--any combination of Twins wins/White Sox losses equalling 2 and the Twins will be guaranteed post-season play. They still have a legitimate shot of overtaking first place in the division, with a nice season-ending stretch of four games with Kansas City, followed by three with the aforementioned Sox--all at home. I would imagine that the KC games will be close to sold-out, and the weekender against Chicago should be standing room only.

Vegas Oddsmakers favored the Bears by 3 points at the Dome, and that's exactly what happend. I would've lost lots of money on that one.

I'm going to take a nap.

I can't even begin to describe this. I also can't find a way to email Bill Simmons of ESPN.com to have him take a look at it, either. If anybody knows how to do it, let me know because this needs to be made fun of.

The Voice of Baseball...

...is finally back tonight. Peter Gammons returns to ESPN to report live from Fenway during the Twins-Red Sox game, and I couldn't be happier. In the media, Gammons is the best thing for baseball. He's not Jay Mariotti, who calls out the manager of the hometown team repeatedly to get press. He's not Sid Hartman, who has college kids write his columns so poorly that they seem three days behind. He's not any of the clowns that end up on Around the Horn that have to reiterate lame and dated points they made because nobody reads them (and I like that show--it's no PTI, but it's good). Gammons is straight-forward--if a team that is a media darling (i.e. Boston, either New York team, the LA Dodgers, etc.) is not performing well, he'll air out that point on cable TV--he'll cut down the Red Sox and he writes for the Boston Globe. Imagine Reusse doing that....

Here's to Gammons and a full recovery from the aneurysm that sidelined him. Can't wait to see him toinght.

"So I finally got a load into her mouth..."

Jay's wedding in Two Harbors this past weekend was a blast. Such a blast that Kraml and I ended up taking the Polar Plunge at 2:30 in the morning--for those of you unfamiliar with the Polar Plunge, its when two (or more) idiots (Me and Kraml) go for a dip in a cold lake during unseasonable swim times. In our case, on a cold and rainy September night/morning, we went for a quick dip in Lake Superior. Not the brightest idea I've ever had, but it is the best solution for a quick sobering-up. Most enjoyable was the trek down the rocks to the shore. It was kind of steep, very dark, and awfully slippery. When we first started down the rock hill, we were joking around and having a good time because we were drunk. When we finally realized the potential for injury, things got pretty clear pretty quick. Before you knew it, Kraml and I were coaching eachother down the wall, pointing out hazards and potential obstacles. Kraml had his Stallone moment when he stepped on a rock, realized it was going to fall and take me out (I was leading the way because I'm more agile, I suppose), and dug in and held it in place with his ankle. Turns out the rock was a good 10-15 pounds and would've done some damage had he let it go. So thanks, Chad. We finally get ankle-deep in the lake, assume push-up position, and drop in. You know how much it sucks when you're taking a long, hot shower and you suddenly run out of hot water and get blasted with cold, shocking you to your very soul until the split-second later when you shut the water off? Lake Superior is a giant, giant lake full of that shock. There's cold like the day we had today, first-day-of-November cold, and then above all that there's Lake Superior-in-September-Wearing-Only-Your-Boxers cold. You can guess which one we experienced.

The title of this post comes from a line that was said during the reception--Kelvie and I almost were removed from the party when it was uttered.

I was trying to post the camping photos that Pete took, but either Blogger is being stubborn or my computer is a hunka-hunka burnin' shit. Pictures coming as soon as one or both decide to cooperate.

In the update post, two stories ago, I failed to mention that, along with Mandy, Sung-Sook was there and the three of us got to spend some time together for the first time in a while. And she was quick to point out that I made no mention of her presence. So, sorry--anytime you are around, from now on, will be documented. And I'll vouch for you--you polka better than anyone I know.

Oh My....

Pete just sent me the camping pictures, and while I don't have time to put all of them up here now (I'll do that on either Monday or Tuesday), here's a teaser of what you'll see. Drinking plus Sharpies plus cameras = bad idea.

Whip-Crack Went His Whipping Tail!

I kept waiting and waiting for Pete to send me the tattoo pictures from Stacey's birthday, so I could use them for the next update here so it would still be (reasonably) topical. Pete had a lot of schooling that takes most of his time, so we'll let him slide. Sometime they'll be here, and you'll laugh. You may not think so now, but you will.

I've been watching and listening to a lot of Dane Cook recently (again), and now my train of thought and sometimes my speech comes out like his--minus all the hilarity and most of the animation. I still contend that he is the second-funniest comedian alive right now, Number 1 being George Carlin. A lot of people will argue with me and say that Dave Chappelle should be there. Dave's a funny guy, he's not really a stand-up comic anymore. His show was hilarious, and Killing Them Softly ranks as one of the best HBO specials ever, but he's more of an actor than a comedian anymore. Plus, Dane Cook is just plain funnier than Dave. And please, anybody who reads this, keep Carlos Mencia to yourself. He's not funny, and his show is a direct rip-off of Chappelle's.

Speaking of shows, and due to the fact that I'm addicted to television, Lost has its Season 3 Premiere on October 4. I'm stunned by my affliction with this show--horribly overacted, over-the-top plot, and many nuances that seem a bit unreal (i.e. staying clean-shaven 60 days after the crash). But I've been hooked since the first episode. I can't stop watching it, and it's been killing me over the summer with no weekly installments. So October 4 is going to be a big day. I don't really watch any other shows on a week-to-week basis other than Rescue Me, and even that one I missed most of the last season. Weekly recaps of Lost are sure to be on the way.

I've been afraid to read the stories reporting Francisco Liriano's injury status, because I'm afraid of three words that are almost certain to be in every one: Tommy John Surgery. I don't want to see him have to go through it, and I don't want to have to go through it as a fan. I'm fine with the fact that he's done for the season, and I'll listen to any argument that he was rushed back. I just don't want TJS to actually happen. And I know, the list of pitchers who've had the surgery and gone on to have great careers is prominent--Tommy John himself never had a 20-win season until after his surgery--but you can look no further than Joe Mays to see that not everyone comes out squeaky clean when it's done. I was, however, surprised to see the names on the list, so I'll relay them to you and you too can be surprised (as compiled by Aaron Gleeman): Eric Gagne, Chris Carpenter, John Smoltz, Mariano Rivera, Billy Wagner, Paul Byrd, and David Wells, to name a few. Maybe it will be for the best, but it just makes me nervous.

Yesterday's loss had something intriguing outside of the fact that every game is a must: The first two Twins pitchers (Liriano and Matt Garza) are the reason that Alfonso Soriano has never put on a Twins uniform. Coulda had him for Liriano last year and Garza this year. Also, both pitchers were named Minor League Pitcher of the Year the last two years (Liriano last year and Garza this year). That Jim Rantz sure has a good eye.

The Vikings were fun to watch on Monday night. I think I'll like the new style of play, because it doesn't deviate too much from what they were successful with in the past. Brad Johnson can still, amazingly, through the deep ball without tearing his rotator cuff--and he does it fairly well, I might add. If Troy Williamson catches two more passes, the game wouldn't have been quite the thriller it turned out to be. But what made me happiest was the fact that Chester Taylor carried the ball 31 times and is not on the injury report. That had to be the hardest-earned 88 yards of his life. No Vikings running back has carried the ball more than 30 times in a game since Robert Smith did it in 1996--the year the current Yankees Dynasty got their first World Series win, to put it in perspective. The Orioles were a playoff team that year--that's how long ago that was.

My brother's wedding was this past weekend and was, of course, a blast. My extended family began rolling into town on Thursday night (which was when I got debilitatingly ill) for tuxedo pick-up, we golfed Friday morning (where I shot my best golf of the season, but that's not really saying too much) and barbequed Friday night (which most of the time was spent watching the Twins game), and had the ceremony and reception (reption) on Saturday (where most of the drinking took place). Travis and Heather were thoughtfull enough to give all the groomsmen a brushed-finish stainless steel hip flask, which I promptly filled with borrowed Jameson from the bar. Everything went smoothly until we hit an unexpected bump in the road in the form of the maid of honor speech. She's a very nice girl, we had a lot of fun both Friday and Saturday, but wow--the holding back of tears, the sappy stories, and the religion--I didn't see that coming at all. It was a solid three and a half minutes of sermonizing and quoting text. Impressive was her research, but holy shit. My speech followed immediately after hers, and I'm told that I was very funny. I freestyled the whole thing because a.) that's my nature (laziness), and b.) I was more concerned about drinking my free beer than jotting down a speech on a cocktail napkin. Short and sweet, a cool 45 seconds with lots of laughs and a couple of jabs at the groom, followed by a toast. But that wasn't all--after I was done (which is technically supposed to be the end of the public speaking aspect of weddings), Father of the Bride spoke, Brother of the Bride spoke, and Mother of the Groom (mom) spoke. All of which was fine, but unexpected and it really cut into Dancefloor Time. Oh well, the more time I spent behind the table was probably easier on the eyes for everyone than the time I spent "dancing". To top it off, as is my custom to end all weddings and receptions that Mandy (who looked beautiful, by the way), I got too drunk to drive, Mandy had to take the wheel, and I passed out on the way home. I think that streak is now approaching 10 receptions in a row. This is what happens when the Mex-Press reunite in a party setting:Senor Mejor on the left, Senor Calor on the right. Good times, baby.


Fricke's wedding is this weekend in Duluth and it should equal out to good times. I'm sharing a room at the Superior Shores Resort with 6 other people, so that should be interesting. I'm sure no one will do much drinking, because our time in Duluth is short and there's just too much to do. Bars probably close at around 10 or 11 p.m. in that sleepy little town anyway, so we'll probably just stay dry and remember what a wonderful experience we're having. Or we'll be loaded. Either way it'll be fun.

Pete and Stacey say I should start a spors blog and try to promote it for fun, because I "know more about sports than anyone [they] know." I told them that I tried that with the Baseball Blog, but it didn't work out and hasn't been updated since June. But now I have about two-to-three hours of afternoon freetime per day to write (i.e. today), so I think I'll give it a try. I don't know if I'll leave the Baseball Blog open or not, but a sports blog would be completely separate from the Baseball one (because Blogger hands out blogspace like promotional flyers for shitty bands). I'll need a clever name, though.