Mostly Safe For Work

Two Random Sports Notes

First of all, regarding the rift between Bill Parcells and Jason Taylor of the Miami Dolphins over Taylor's skipping offseason workouts to be on "Dancing With the Stars", I never thought I'd say it, but I actually agree with Parcells wholeheartedly on this one. Granted, there is no more immature human being in the public eye than Parcells when it comes to dealing with interpersonal issues (example: refusing to call Terrell Owens by his name when he coached the Cowboys), and he reportedly refused to acknowledge Taylor's presence when he stopped by the Dolphin's facility two weeks ago, but how can a veteran leader of a team coming off a 1-15 season justify missing offseason workouts for what is essentially a vanity project? Not much leadership there, and I'd be pissed off too if I were the coach.

Secondly, I've been pretty sure Roger Clemens was a scumbag ever since he fled Toronto for the Yankees several years ago. I acknowledge that it's silly in the age of free agency to get hung up on player loyalty, but Toronto gave him a shot to get his career back on track, they were a young team who just missed the playoffs the last year he was there and had a realistic shot at contending the following season, and Clemens just bolted for the money when he was already filthy stinking rich. I would have had a lot more respect for him had he chosen to earn a title with the club he helped build than to just sell his soul for one (pardon the hyperbole) with the Yankees. Then the rediculous Mike Piazza bat throw during the Mets/Yankees World Series followed by the absurd lie than he thought the bat was really the ball just put me over the top.  Anyways, all of the trouble he's gotten himself into recently culminating with the allegations that he began an affair with Mindy McCready when she was only 15 makes me feel very smug and superior about my judgement of his character. And I like that feeling. What a dick.

-T 

Overbearing Coaches Suck

Everyone has seen that sort of guy. The overbearing, hyperintense coach who entirely lacks perspective and sucks all of the joy out of whatever game he coaches. Whenever I coach against one of those guys I just feel sorry for their players. Today I encountered just one such coach. The 11 year old baseball team I coach is in a low level rec league. Nearly all of the players are beginners and very few of them have any discernable baseball talent. The whole purpose of having them play is to start learning basic fundamentals, to get some experience, and to have fun. But this coach spent the entire game exasperatedly criticizing and berating his players. It was really sad to see.

Anyway, there was one thing he said that almost made me laugh out loud right in front of him. At the time, I was standing by his dugout prior to the start of an inning, preparing to coach third base. When the catcher called "balls in" all of the fielders threw the balls they had been warming up with towards the dugout, and one rolled to a stop at the third baseman's feet. As he bent down to pick up the ball and toss it to the coach, the coach said in an exceedingly frustrated tone, "Pick it up like you mean it!"

What a rediculous thing to say. How can someone be so out of touch with reality that they can say something like that with a straight face? This guy was an absolute charicature of himself. The prevalence of people like him is reason #122 why I have become so cynical about youth sports these days.

-T

Never Has a Woman Risked So Many Fanboy Stalkers

Kristen Bell appeared earlier this month on Letterman.  Probably the most charming appearance I've ever seen.  But, from my experience with outgoing, charming and hilarious women - likely crazy!

Raining, Pouring

Medical emergencies, like women, jobs and social opportunities, seem to occur in groups or not at all.  Earlier this year I went three weeks without a medical call and then had two or three a night for a week.  Haven't had any serious ones for a couple weeks, and then we got the dreaded 0651 call (shift changes at about 0655) that resulted in ambulance transport an extra 90 minutes at work.  The other shifts had a a handful of calls during the day and afternoon today, and I've had two in the first few hours of tonight's shift.

Tonight's first call took me to the residence of particularly sassy and intelligent older woman.  My medical history questions brought forth a barrage of witticisms and literary references laced with her background.  While discussing her frequent, serious bruising, she even threw out an "out, damned spot!"

While leaving, I decided to be cute.  "Next time, no Macbeth after 11 p.m*."*

Yours,
Literate and underemployed EMT

*I actually have no good reason for allotting allowed times for references to the piece.   It was just an attempt to express learnedness. 

**But I don't think I remember the line from reading the play.  Rather,  I recall the quotation being a plot device in the great bad 1988 movie Plain Clothes, starring Loren Dean (Mumford, Gattaca) and Debra Winger's husband.***

***A recent exam that covered medical ethics required knowledge of some basic philosophy.  A question asked about the philosophies of Nietzsche and Kant.  I had not done the reading on this.  But I did see Nancy Drew - the TV Disney 2002 version starring the fetching Maggie Lawson, not the 2007 film with Julia Roberts's niece in the title role.  In one scene Nancy is trying to comfort the premed cheerleader who was helping her football star boyfriend use illegal supplements that exacerbated an unknown heart condition and sent him into a coma.  Nancy explains the contrasting views of the two philosophers regarding intentions, which I'm not sure is true, but my best recollection of her dialogue got me full credit!****

****Contrast watching mediocre to bad movies with learning Latin.  Latin: Recognizing root words led to maximum of one extra correct sentence completion question on the SAT.  Understood 10 percent of what new pope said in inauguration speech.  Not good movies: Correct test questions.  False appearances of learnedness.  Hours and hours of mindless entertainment.   Song from Teen Wolf triumphant climax permanently accessible in mental audio library.   The urge to say "Chester Copperpot"***** in the voice of the Asian kid from Goonies.  Advantage, movies.

*****Predictably, there's a band presumably full or ironic hipsters called The Adventures of Chester Copperpot.  Leave no obscure pop culture reference unturned, generation.******

******I'd do the same damn thing if I had a band.

This astrii/footnote thing got out of hand.  I've been reading my co-blogger's copy of a collection of essays by David Foster Wallace, who is famous for having articles with more words in the footnotes than article himself.  Dude is greatness, but I'm not sure I like the reading experience.

 

New Rules

Obsessing over the NFL draft - or any draft or off-season moves - is kinda the male equivalent of spending thoughts on whom Kate Hudson is actually currently dating. 

- Male who finds fashion magazines and celebrity gossip entirely frivolous who finally remembered that he plays fantasy football

Fire!

Tonight I experienced my first fire. Thankfully, it wasn't my condo that was burning, but one in a building about fifty yards down the driveway. It caught fire after a lightning strike, and within minutes we had seven fire trucks, three of those fire department suburbans, an ambulance, and a police car filling up the driveway. What a spectacle. Needless to say I was among the couple dozen or so nosy onlookers standing out in the pouring rain. I hate to make light of such a scary and unfortunate situation, but there was one thing that I can't help mentioning. One of the people evacuating from the burning building walked by me carrying one thing he apparently decided must be salvaged - a case of Bud Light. Of all the things in his condo, that was the first, and only, thing he decided to grab. It seemed like an elaborate Bud Light commercial or something. Maybe you had to be there.

-T

An Interesting Opportunity

I got a phone call from a friend today who made me a very interesting offer - one that I'm fairly certain I'll decline, but that I'm intrigued by nonetheless. But first, some backstory...

Back in 2004 I spent one summer playing for the Houston Astros after five years spent playing college baseball. I entered pro ball with four elbow operations under my belt, and when my elbow blew again towards the end of that season in A-ball I had my fifth surgery and called it a career. The damage I've done to my elbow is pretty extensive, including injuries to the bone, cartilage, ligaments, and ulnar nerve. In fact, after my last surgery my doctor told me that if I continued to pitch I would be risking losing the use of my arm to some degree. So with that in mind it wasn't too terribly difficult to hang up my cleats.

Now to the offer. My friend is the pitching coach for a low level independent minor league team near my home, and he asked me if I would get back in shape and pitch for him this summer. I was very surprised by the offer, and my first reaction was to tell him absolutely not, but the more I chatted with him the more I thought I might as well keep the door open to play in case I change my mind. What I ended up leaving him with was that the strong likelihood is that I won't play, but that I'll think it over for a few days just to be sure.   

There is a mountain of reasons why I shouldn't play. The health of my arm is obviously paramount, but then there's also the time and effort I would need to spend getting in shape, the fact that I would be committing my entire summer vacation to the team, and of course the travel that comes with minor league ball, even low level independent minor league ball. Those are all the cons, and all I have in the pros column is the opportunity to relive the glory days for one last summer. I don't think it will be worth giving up my summer vacation and risking another injury, but it would be fun to stand on that mound one more time, so.....who knows? Right now I'd set the odds of me playing at about 3%. We'll see.

-T

Only in New York

I'm neither a significant fan of Zach Galafonoklasfsfstsgdse nor this bit nor immature spelling hijinx, but this is well worth it for the bit about Long John Silver's:

That's a Real Conversations For Your Ass

I've previously endorsed white people singing ridiculous hip-hop lyrics earnestly.  Best entry yet:

Spoiling Your Movie

This t-shirt is kinda awesome.