Tony Jarboe is a senior at Northwestern...meaning he has just about beaten the odds and will graduate, something the Turf crew never thought possible. We believe that his internship with the Turf at KNUS radio in the summer of 2008 was the turning point in his academic career. The picture to the right signify's all the money Tony will make in the near future, right? Wrong. The cash is indicative of all the student debt he has racked up going to Northwestern. Anyway, here are some archived "Jabs" columns. The kid can write, we can all agree on that.
THE WORST...10-20-09
When looking back at your team’s season, what weighs most heavily in your final analysis? Obviously, the team’s finish plays a huge role. If your team wins the World Series, chances are you’ll be happier with your team than if it completely misses the post-season.
Almost as important, however, are your team’s expectations coming into the season. If your boys (or girls, I suppose) were expected to suck and they end up just missing the playoffs, you’re pretty happy. After all, they did better than you expected. If, on the other hand, you expected your team to be championship-caliber and they end up just missing the post-season, then you are extremely disappointed.
If you think about it, expectations affect how we see almost every aspect of our lives. If you are told the wait at a restaurant is 20 minutes and you are seated in 15, you’re happy. Hey, you got in five minutes early! But if you are told the wait is 10 minutes and you get seated in 15, then those incompetent fools clearly don’t know what they are doing. What took them so long to find a table for you? Same result, two completely different attitudes.
So is this the key to a happy life? Expect the worst, then be pleasantly surprised when things work out. “All right! My house didn’t burn down when I tried to make macaroni and cheese!”
This strategy has actually worked for me on a number of occasions. Take family reunions. I really don’t like seeing Aunt Bertha and Uncle Ned and having them tell me how much I’ve grown and how they haven’t seen me since I was three feet tall. Going in, I always expect family reunions to be about as fun as, say, a root canal. And then when I end up having a little bit of fun, I’m pleasantly surprised.
Like any good strategy, however, you must take care not to overuse it. If you go around expecting life to suck, you get depressed and everything just seems dark and gloomy. And that’s no good either.
So the key to a happy life is tempered expectations. Expect things to be slightly worse than average, so you generally end up pleasantly surprised. In extreme cases, expect maximum suckitude from an event. Then, unless a black hole develops and engulfs the entire planet, you are happy. And if by some unfortunate coincidence a black hole does in fact swallow the entire planet, then your event ends prematurely. Either way, you win. I’m feeling better already.
FEELING HELPLESS… (10-10-09)
I’m thinking of becoming superstitious. Some fans have a lucky hat, lucky shirt, or even lucky underwear. Others have certain pre-game rituals that must be performed, lest their team feel the wrath of the gods. Heck, many fans even do both. So why not me?
It’s not that I’ve suddenly “seen the light” or anything like that. I don’t suddenly believe that if I wear a specific pair of socks every day and watch the game from a certain seat, the Cardinals will do better. No, I’m just thinking about becoming superstitious so I don’t feel so darn helpless.
In my 11 years of being a sports fan (I started following closely around age 10), I have never felt so powerless as I did last night while watching the Cardinals. They were one out away from winning a playoff game against the Los Angeles Dodgers and tying the best-of-five series up at one win each. Going back to St. Louis, the Cards would have a good chance of putting away the Dodgers at home and punching their ticket to the NLCS. Instead, I got punched in the gut. Hard.
With two outs in the ninth inning, Cardinal left fielder Matt Holliday dropped the would-be final out of the game. That was too bad, but it happens. They still only needed one out to win.
When the next pitch from Cardinal closer Ryan Franklin bounced three feet outside of home plate, I felt a knot in my stomach. With each proceeding pitch wildly missing the strike zone, that knot grew. My team was unravelling before my eyes. A single tied the game up, then a wild pitch moving runners to second and third. A hit batter and base hit later, and what was a 2-1 Cardinal win became a 3-2 Dodger win and an almost insurmountable 2-0 deficit in the series.
As the entire sequence of events unfolded, I was divided. One part of me said, “They only need to get one more out. There is about a 75% chance of that happening. The Cards are still in good shape.”
However, the rational part of me knew we were done for. Contrary to popular belief, this had nothing to do with the Dodgers “never giving up” and “believing they could do it”. Following the error, Franklin lost it and seemed to have no control whatsoever. The Dodgers, being professional hitters, are quite capable of watching pitches sail well outside of the strike zone, then demolishing any balls thrown right down the middle. It wasn’t some mystical force of “belief” or whatever. It was just hitters doing what they do best.
The worst part was, as I was watching Ryan Franklin melt down, I was completely helpless. This game was 2,000 miles away. Nothing I could say or do would have any effect on the outcome of the game. I could just watch in agony as the lead evaporated and the win became a loss.
That is why I’m thinking of becoming superstitious. That way, I know that my team can’t lose as long as I have my lucky socks on. And in a really big game, I just have to remember to wear my lucky underwear.
IOC GETS IT RIGHT! (For Once)…10-4-09
I have never liked the International Olympic Committee. To me, they always seemed like a bunch of anti-American Euros with Olympic-egos who just enjoyed people telling them how great they were. They choose their host city based on the best bribes, rather than the merits of the actual city (at least sometimes).
But now I must give praise to the IOC for choosing RIo De Janeiro over Chicago to host the 2016 games. Maybe it was just their anti-American feelings coming home to roost, or maybe Rio was better at bribing than Chicago (highly unlikely). Whatever the reasoning, I’m glad the Olympics will not soon be coming to a city near me.
Leading up to the announcement, I was unsure whether or not I wanted Chicago to host the Olympics. On the one hand, the Olympics would cause mass chaos throughout the city of Chicago. There would be construction everywhere, very expensive construction.
On the other hand, it’s the Olympics! It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to have the Games so close to where I live. I could actually go live to an Olympic event instead of watching it on TV. This kind of opportunity would likely never come along again.
In the end, I found myself in the rather awkward position of “rooting against America”. While it would be fun to have the Olympics so close to home, I decided it simply wasn’t worth the cost.
It would be a financial boon to Chicago, but a boondoggle to the rest of the state. While private donations were collected to cover most construction costs, Illinois taxpayers would have to pick up any cost overruns. And with as inefficiently as Chicago operates, there would be plenty of cost overruns. Plus, I can only imagine the kind of corruption that would come with handing out multimillion-dollar contracts. Chicago is known for its corrupt politicians. Giving them billions of dollars to play with would be like throwing a steak to a pack of wolves. To paraphrase Winston Churchill, never have we seen so many do so little with so much.
Although I felt bad rooting against America, and against my home state, I felt it was for the best. The Games themselves would be fun, but the preparation before, and the exorbitant costs, simply wouldn’t be worth it. So thank you, IOC, for saddling another country with that burden.
THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT...9-27-09
Do you know what will cause the end of civilization as we know it? War? Pestilence? Famine? No, no, and no. The end of civilization will be caused by the “reply-all” button on email.
Think about it. How often have you received a group email with about 20 names on it, and then some hanyak replies to everyone on that list, when in fact his email is directed only at the sender of said email? I get group emails all the time reminding me about upcoming meetings and activities. Without fail, someone will reply “I’ll be there!” Hey buddy, here’s a little secret: I DON”T CARE IF YOU WILL BE GOING! If you’re there, I’ll see you. If not, I won’t. It doesn’t matter. Stop clogging up my inbox!
Then you have to spend a ton of time sifting through your emails, finding the important ones while deleting those that have nothing to do with you whatsoever. It is my contention that an Army General will send orders to a Lieutenant on the ground in a war zone somewhere, but the Lieutenant won’t get the orders because he is too busy deleting emails. The email will get lost in the shuffle. He will then get attacked and the war will be lost and civilization will fall into the abyss.
So, if you ever receive a group email and need to respond to the sender only, please, for the love of all that is Holy, hit the “reply” button, not “reply-all”. Your co-workers, and a grateful nation, thank you.
ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT... (9-21-09)
Milton Bradley is done playing games. At least for this year.
The Chicago Cubs suspended their right fielder for the rest of 2009 for ripping Cubs fans. Bradley said the atmosphere in Chicago was too negative and “you understand why they haven’t won (the World Series) in 100 years here.”
This isn’t the first time a team has sent a player packing because of chemistry issues. The Cubs traded catcher Michael Barrett shortly after he got into a fight with pitcher Carlos Zambrano in 2007. The Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim (then the Anaheim Angels) suspended Jose Guillen for “inappropriate conduct” for the final two weeks of the 2004 season as well as the post season.
So just how important is chemistry? Obviously, teams believe in it if they are willing to take a multi-million dollar hit and simply pay a guy to go away.
As a statistically inclined fan I always used to scoff at the notion of chemistry. However, if it is so insignificant, why do so many people with so much knowledge about baseball put so much stock into team chemistry? Is there really something to it?
In his autobiography, former Atlanta Braves GM John Schuerholz harped on the importance of chemistry, talking about his players having a singular goal. He also said he always considered team chemistry before bringing players in, although he said it wasn’t an issue 99 percent of the time.
There are four key factors that come into play when deciding whether to suspend a player or not: 1) the action(s) (obviously), 2) the productivity of the player, 3) the success of the team, and 4) the number of dollars being eaten.
Whenever two players come to blows, that is obviously an extreme chemistry issue that has to be dealt with. Normally professional athletes can at least tolerate each other while in uniform, but the occasional fight will still break out among teammates (the afformentioned Barrett-Zambrano brawl in 2007 and the Barry Bonds-Jeff Kent fight in 2002, among others). In this case, players are in immediate danger of being injured, and it is a potential lawsuit waiting to happen. Plus, I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not work in a place where two guys want nothing more than to punch a co-worker in the face (Ok, most of us do have a co-worker we want to punch in the face, but usually we can restrain ourselves).
So in the case of actual fighting, yes, it makes sense to get rid of the player. But what about Milton Bradley ripping the fans of the Cubs? This came in addition to earlier comments that he roots for nine-inning games so he can go home. Ok, so he’s not going to get a “World’s Greatest Teammate” t-shirt, and he drags down the atmosphere in the clubhouse. But does it really hurt the performance of the team? You think Derek Lee goes to bat and thinks “Boy, that Milton Bradley is sure making life miserable!” and then strikes out on three straight pitches because he’s daydreaming about Bradley? Probably not.
Bradley’s greatest sin was bringing the fans in on this. Do you think a fan who spent $30 on a ticket wants to hear a guy making $10 million to play baseball complain? Or, when he underperforms, do you want to hear him complain when he gets booed? Again, probably not. And since Bradley wasn’t living up to the contract, and since the Cubs aren’t going anywhere, Hendry figured they could finish the year with Bradley and be miserable, or finish the year without him and be slightly less miserable. Either way, the loss of his production wasn’t going to hurt the team, so it was easy to take a “stand” and say “We won’t tolerate such behavior!”
I will give credit to the Angels. They suspended Guillen for the post season even though he was one of their more productive hitters, batting .294 with 27 home runs and 104 RBI. In the end it probably didn’t make a difference because the Angels got thumped in three straight by Boston. But at the time it was a big move. Now, I think the Angels were too extreme in their reaction to Guillen’s “inappropriate action”, but I give them credit for adhering to their principles.
So how important is team chemistry? Well, unless there is immediate danger of two guys getting into a fight, it’s highly overrated. General managers should leave chemistry in the lab and focus on bringing in the best baseball players they can.
STUCK ON ME...9-13-09
Humility is not often a word that comes to mind when you talk of great athletes. Instead we think of Bengal’s wide receiver Chad Johnson changing his name to Chad Ochocinco to match his uniform number. Or Rickey Henderson proclaiming “Today, I am the greatest!” when he surpassed Lou Brock as the all-time stolen base leader. Or pretty much anything that came out of Muhammad Ali’s mouth during his heyday.
We have come to accept and even expect such behavior from athletes. After all, part of the reason they are in the highest echelons of their sport is because of their confidence in themselves. They believe they can do it. That is why they are great in the first place.
But how much is too much? How much bluster and bravado can an athlete exhibit before fans have finally had enough? In his Hall of Fame speech, Michael Jordan said, “I’d do anything to win. If that means we play team format, we win. If that means I have to do whatever I have to do, we’re going to win however you want to look at it.” He just said that he was the reason his teams always won. How much more stuck up can you get? And yet many still loved his speech. Chicago Tribune columnist Rick Morrissey talked about how Michael Jordan’s competitive fire “is as high as ever.” Because he is Michael Jordan, he could get away with anything up to and including murder. He is one of the very few athletes that fans will adore no matter what he says.
Terrell Owens, conversely, is hated by most fans because of his exorbitant touchdown celebrations, his “look-at-me” antics, and saying things like “I love me some me.” Owens even trademarked the phrase. Throw in a reality show (appropriately name “The T.O. Show”) and fans are tired of his antics and just want him to go away. Even as he ages, Owens is a productive wide receiver. He was 13th in the league in total receiving yards last year, and tied for fifth in touchdowns scored. And yet fans just want him to go away.
So where is that line? Obviously it’s a sliding scale. Fans are a lot less willing to put up with self-serving antics from a player who is merely very good than one is is legendary. Athletes need to have a feel where they are on that scale. Some athletes seem to toe the line pretty well, while others (Chad Ochocinco and Terrell Owens come to mind) go way, way over. Make no mistake: they know exactly what they are doing. They are very good players who intentionally put themselves out there in order to make a bigger name for themselves. Then they can cash in on their “villain” status. Love them or hate them, people pay attention to them.
So there is the athlete and then there is the line of self-absorption people will tolerate from that athlete. Cross that threshold and you will be branded as a selfish, egotistical maniac.
My threshold is near zero. I don’t care how great you are, how great you think you are. No man is an island. Behind every successful person there is a team of people that helped you get there. Even in individual sports, players like Tiger Woods and Roger Federer have many, many people who helped them get where they are. Thus athletes should not talk about “I and me” but rather “us and me”.
Everyone’s threshold is a little different. We like some athletes more than others, and allow leeway accordingly. Certainly no one will fault these athletes for going out and trying to make a name for themselves. Just be careful when you do. Not everyone can handle playing the “villain”.
Getting My Closet Cleaned...9-7-09
It had been a while since I had cleaned out my closet. How long? I wasn’t sure. On the top shelf there were binders and sports equipment from years past. But what else was up there?
I cleared off the top shelf and put everything on my brother’s now-vacant bed (he went off to college last week). Here are a few things that I found.
- An inflatable Oakland Raiders helmet (the ultimate party supply!)
- A plastic sword
- Numerous baseball hats
- 10 binders full of baseball cards
- Four baseball cleats, two of which matched
- 5 collectable Budweiser figurines from 1988.
- A score sheet showing the shooting averages of every player on my high school golf team from freshman year. I averaged a team-high 74 on 9 holes. That’s good, right?
- An unused cup (and not the drinking kind)
- Many old Sports Illustrated issues, including one from the death of Dale Earnhardt in 2001. It would have been a collector’s item had I had the foresight to keep it in good condition
- Every Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue dating back to 2001. Now in this case I showed incredible foresight as a 13-year-old.
- A blanket embroidered with my name and date of birth, as well as a knitted duck made by a family friend shortly after my birth.
- An issue of People magazine from 1998
Ok, so I haven’t cleaned out my closet in a while. Like ever. But it was interesting to go back and remember (or at least try to remember) where this stuff came from. My favorite part was looking at the old Sports Illustrated issues with stories from years past. Stories like Jason Gore, the guy who came out of nowhere at the 2005 US Open and went into the last day with a chance to win, only to have a total meltdown and finish 49th. Or the 2007 New England Patriots, who went 16-0 in the regular season and came within a whisker of only the second perfect season in NFL history (they lost in the Super Bowl).
I also looked back at previous SI predictions for each of the past several years. They didn’t do well picking the champions in any sport, but they did a reasonably good job of picking the playoff teams at least. Of course, like any prognosticator, they had their share of clunker picks as well (the 2007 Saints were picked to win the Super Bowl and instead they finished 7-9 and out of the playoffs).
All in all, it was probably a good thing to get the shelf clean. It had a thick layer of dust and probably about twice the amount of weight on it that it was supposed to. And it was fun to take a trip down memory lane. And wonder how in the world I got an inflatable Raiders helmet.
Persistence Pays Off (Finally!)...8-31-09
If you are a true fan of a team, when is it ok to leave a game early? Obviously a number of factors come into play: score, inning, pace of the game, if you have work tomorrow, etc.
My answer is never. Until the game is over, I’m sticking around. Because you just never know what might happen.
However, I was at a game recently that tested my mettle. My family had a Guys Day Out where my dad, brother, granddad, uncles, and cousins all trooped down to St. Louis to see a Cardinals game. It was a 1:15 game, which worked out well for me because it meant I would get home early enough to get some rest before waking up at 5:30 for work the next morning. Or so I thought.
The game got under way and we were seeing a good one. The Padres are having a tough year, but they were giving the Cardinals all they could handle. Things got really interesting in the top of the sixth with the Cards up by one. The weather was threatening and so were the Padres. I was hoping, somehow, that the rain would hurry up and get there before San Diego could score. Then, if the game was rained out, the Cardinals would be declared the winner.
No such luck. The Padres must have said a few extra prayers that day, because the rains came as soon as they took the lead. It rained. And rained. And rained some more. The scoreboard operator put the radar on the big screen and it didn’t look promising. A large red blotch was hovering around St. Louis. The rain was here to stay.
The rain was stubborn, but we were, too. We don’t get to St. Louis very often, so when we do we’re going to make the most of it, gosh darn-it! About an hour later our patience was rewarded; the rain stopped and we were underway again. Comeback time!
Unfortunately the only thing that came back was the rain. The Cardinals offense was downright offensive and couldn’t muster anything between the delays. So there we sat, top of the eighth, still down by one. And once again we were stuck in another delay.
By now it was about 5:00 PM, and with a four hour drive home it was going to be a late night. So much for the early start time. At that point half of the family left (we took two vehicles) because this rain looked even worse than the first.
The rest of us were about to give up when I put my foot down. We were not leaving Busch Stadium until the game was officially called. Now it was a matter of principle. I have never willingly left a baseball game early and I wasn’t about to start. We were staying.
Some 70 minutes later this rain finally let up and it looked like maybe, just maybe, we could finish this game. I wanted to get the players on the field ASAP to beat the next rain, but that wasn’t going to happen. By now the field was saturated and needed time to dry. 20 minutes later the umpire once again yelled “Play ball!”
There were about 4,000 fans loyal (or crazy) enough to stick around for the last two innings. There were two positives to this: 1) we were able to move down and get seats much closer to the field and 2) the fans were too spread out for anyone to try to start one of those stupid “waves”
We sat a few rows back from a rather enthusiastic fan (his name was Beau, I found out later) who was cheering like crazy, going so far as to wave his shoe when the “Schu-man” (Skip Shumaker) stepped up to pinch hit. I’m guessing Beau used the rain delays to knock back a couple of beers. He wasn’t hammered, but he sure seemed buzzed.
Even with Beau’s enthusiasm, the Cards couldn’t do anything in the eighth. Crap. We stayed all this time and it looked like we weren’t going to see a winner. Still, the Cards had one last shot.
A couple of base hits later in the ninth and the Cards tied it up as the crowd erupted (insofar as 4,000 fans can “erupt”). However, there was also a sense of anxiety. We were now staring an extra inning game squarely in the eyes. It was now nearing 7:00 (six hours after the game began) and now we might have to stay for extra innings? Oh boy.
Apparently the idea of extra innings didn’t appeal to Cardinal’s center fielder Colby Rasmus either. He took a mighty hack on the first pitch and whiffed. From the swing, I’m guessing he was thinking “Screw it, this game has gone on way too long, I’m gonna end it.”
On swing number two Mr. Rasmus didn’t miss. I watched the right fielder start running back towards the wall, slow to a jog, then watch helplessly as the ball sailed well over the wall and into the empty right field deck. Rasmus was mobbed at home plate while I high-fived everyone in my vicinity. Of course, “everyone” consisted of five family members, Beau, and his wife, but hey, I wasn’t going to complain. And I discovered that, if properly motivated, 4,000 people can still make a heck of a lot of noise.
It started out as just a game. But then, somewhere during the second rain delay this became a test of my fan-hood. How far am I willing to go to stay until the bitter end? Managers talk about “playing a hard nine”; I’m all about “staying a hard nine”. This time, thankfully, my stubbornness paid off.
Know Your Tans......8-23-09
It’s back to school time, and for many youngsters that means seeing friends they haven’t visited in months. What have they been up to for all this time? Well, you could ask. But that would be boring. It’s more fun to look for clues and then amaze your friends with your “psychic” abilities.
One of the quickest ways to tell what someone has been doing this summer is to look at his or her tan. Here is a handy-dandy “Know Your Tans” guide:
The Farmer’s Tan
Here you have the classic farmer’s tan. The arms and face are reddened from sun exposure, with a distinct line on the biceps. Above that line is completely white, as are the torso and legs. This doesn’t necessarily mean the person is a farmer, but it is the sign of someone who worked a lot outside this summer.
The Construction Worker’s Tan
Similar to the farmer’s tan. The key difference is the white hands, as construction workers often wear gloves to protect their hands. Most likely the hands will have some color, but there will likely be a distinct line on the wrist.
The Baseball Player’s/ Golfer’s Tan
This one’s a little tricky because baseball players and golfers have similar tans. They have the red arms and faces, like the farmer’s tan, but will have one white hand from either their fielding glove or golfing glove. It will most likely be a baseball tan, as not many young kids play golf. However, it helps to know a little bit about the person in this case. There may be white around the eyes from sunglasses.
The Lifeguard’s Tan
This is the all-over tan, except for a white area between the person’s thighs and torso. A person with this type of tan may or may not have been a lifeguard over the summer, but he or she definitely spent a lot of time by the water, working on their tan.
The Goof-Off’s Tan
Above the torso, the goof-off tan is like the farmer’s tan, with red hands and arms and a white torso. The giveaway for the goof-off’s tan is colored legs. When people work outside they tend to wear jeans for added protection of their legs. Yes, it’s possible to work outside in shorts, but this usually only happens during the hottest days of summer. People who aren’t working (i.e. goofing off) are more likely to wear shorts.
The Radio Show Host Tan
No discernible coloration whatsoever. The radio show host fears sunlight and never goes out during daylight hours unless absolutely necessary. In such cases he (or she) will wear plenty of sun block, long pants, and long sleeves to minimize sun exposure.
THE NON-BATTLING BUCS...8-9-09
As a fan, there is nothing more frustrating than watching your team lose season after season. Just about every team will have a few ups and downs. But there are an unlucky few that seem to always be down as if the owner doesn’t even care. Take the Pittsburgh Pirates.
According to Sports Illustrated, not one of their 25 players even makes the average major league salary of $3.26 million. Their wealthiest member is Paul Maholm, who makes $2.5 million. Look, I’m not exactly ready to go out and throw the guy a telethon, but he and everyone else on the Pittsburgh squad is a pauper relative to major league standards.
The Pirates, as they have done for most of the past seventeen seasons, spent the trade deadline selling off their usable parts to other teams. Once again they have to scrape the depths of their farm system just to field a major league team. It’s been said if they have to reach any deeper into their farm system, they’ll have to call up actual livestock.
What’s a fan to do? The Pirates haven’t had a winning season in seventeen years. In 1992, their last winning season, the first President Bush was in office, a cell phone is what prisoners used to make calls, and I celebrated my birthday, the big oh-four. Yeah, it’s been a while.
But as fans, we really can’t do much. Sure, we can boycott games, but unless enough fans do the same thing, your protest isn’t getting anywhere. Maybe the team owner is happy paying his players as little as he can and raking in the cash from ticket sales and revenue sharing.
In defense of owners of small market teams, it is a big (and expensive) gamble to lay out big money for a team, because the city just might not be big enough to support an expensive roster. It may take years for the owner to recoup that money they spent, if ever.
That said, there need to be changes to the system. This way fans of teams like the Pirates, Florida Marlins, and Kansas City Royals can enjoy a winning season more than once in their lifetimes.
Revenue sharing needs to revamped. It’s a good idea, but as it currently stands it creates the wrong incentives. Guys with the big payrolls pay a certain amount of luxury tax to the teams with the lowest payrolls. So why would the guys at the low end of the totem pole want to increase their payroll? Teams like the Florida Marlins would turn a profit even if they didn’t sell a single ticket, because the money they get from revenue sharing and local media contracts more than covers their payroll. Anything they get on top of that is just gravy.
Revenue sharing should be based on market size, not payroll. Under the current system, a small-market team is taxed twice signing a player. First, they of course have to pay that player. But they also lose money from revenue sharing. By basing revenue sharing on market size, teams are not double-penalized for signing a player.
An owner needs to be punished, however, if year after year they just pocket the money they make from revenue sharing. If a team finishes with one of the five lowest payrolls for five straight years, they should lose all revenue sharing dollars until they finish with a payroll higher than 25th. This way owners will be forced to spend at least some money. Obviously the exact numbers can be changed, but owners of teams like the Pirates, Marlins, Nationals, and Royals seem content to collect their revenue-sharing checks while putting a crappy product on the field. Hit them where it hurts, right in the pocketbook.
This is a great place to start in order to help terrible teams become more competitive. Money is not a panacea, but it sure helps. If nothing else, these ideas help the fans feel better, knowing the owner at least has to spend some money and feign like he’s trying to field a competitive team. As a sports fan, what more can you ask for?
THE NICKNAME MYTH...(8-3-09)
I often hear people lament how there are no good nicknames in baseball anymore. Where once you had monikers as “The Flying Dutchman” (Honus Wagner), “The Georgia Peach” (Ty Cobb) and “Dr. Strangeglove” (Dick Stuart), you are now stuck with nicknames like “Farnsy” (Kyle Farnsworth), “Man-Ram” (Manny Ramirez), and a whole host of “Rods” (A-Rod, K-Rod, etc). Where have all the nicknames gone?
It’s true there are some pretty lame nicknames out there, especially compared to the colorful names of yesteryear. You had names like “The Rajah, Dizzy, Daffy, Ducky, and Pepper. And that’s just the St. Louis Cardinals from 1925-1935. Other names from history include “The Nervous Greek” (Lou Skizas), “Suitcase” (the oft-traded Harry Simpson), and “The Big Train” (Walter Johnson). As you can see, not just the big stars had nicknames.
But it’s not as though today is bereft of good monikers. Sure you have the lame name-based nicknames (If I hear one more something-Rod name I’m going to scream),but you also have “The Big Unit” (6’ 10” Randy Johnson), “The Big Hurt” (Frank Thomas), and “Boof” (John Bonser). There is also “The Mayor”, Sean Casey, so dubbed because whenever an opponent reaches base he will (or at least used to) talk to them a lot and often shake their hand, as though he’s running for office.
I love nicknames that reference past players. Cal Ripken, Jr was dubbed “The Iron Man” after surpassing Lou Gehrig’s record for consecutive games played. Ripken’s name was a tribute to Gehrig, who was dubbed “The Iron Horse”. Reggie Jackson’s “Mr. October” has inspired two nicknames. Derek Jeter became “Mr. November” when he hit a home run at the stroke of midnight on November 1 in the World Series. And David Ortiz is known as Senor Octubre for his October heroics. Ryan Braun of the Milwaukee Brewers is known as “The Hebrew Hammer”, which references a number of things. Of course it signifies his Jewish heritage, but it also honors Hank Aaron, who played for many years in Milwaukee.
My favorite nickname among modern baseball players is “El Hombre”, Albert Pujols. Translated, it simply means “The Man”. On and off the baseball field, he is the man. He can hit, run, play defense, and he is extremely charitable. It is also the Spanish version of the nickname given to Stan Musial, who, like Pujols, was great on and off the field and became a symbol for the city of St. Louis, as Pujols is now.
The nicknames for modern day ballplayers are just as plentiful as in years past. And many are colorful and descriptive, not just lame name-based monikers. However, the nicknames of today’s players are not as well known as they have been in the past. As a collective, fans have become more statistics-oriented and are more interested in the numbers and production of a guy, rather than his nickname and anecdotes about him. This is not to say that players are getting de-personalized and becoming nothing more than walking numbers. However, as people focus more on statistics, they become less concerned with learning nicknames and stories about the player. And because of that, it seems that there are fewer players with colorful nicknames. There are still plenty of great monikers out there. You just have to dig a little deeper.
GOING FOR GLORY...7-26-09
Being a sports fan can be a pretty helpless feeling sometimes. And there is nothing worse than watching your team that is this close to winning a championship stand pat. They just need to add that one piece and you have no doubt that they would win it all. But what does the general manager do? Nothing, nada, bupkis. Oh, sure, maybe he goes out and picks up a middle reliever or third-string quarterback. But he does zippo as far as moves that will actually benefit the team. They are afraid of taking a risk, sacrificing the future in order to win now. Because if they don’t win now, it could mean their job.
I’ve been lucky enough to have not one but two teams with GMs willing to put their necks on the line. Bears GM Jerry Angelo went out and traded for quarterback Jay Cutler, while Cardinals GM John Mozeliak recently acquired Matt Holliday, the best player available on the trade market. Both of these moves were huge trades, and deals that I was not accustomed to seeing my teams make. Usually it’s some other team that goes out and makes the big move.
It’s true that both of these moves could backfire. Cutler could come to Chicago and completely stink. And Matt Holliday could leave St. Louis in two months and sign a huge contract for some other team, leaving the Cardinals with nothing. But both Angelo and Mozeliak sent the message that their teams could win now, and made moves that solidified the team in the short run.
As a fan I love to see this. Again, you see many general managers afraid to make the big move because if it fails, they could lose their job. However, as long as they do a mediocre job and keep the team in contention, they will probably stick around. I admire the guts it takes to make this type of move, even if it totally fails.
I realize teams can’t always do this. As a general manager, you have to think about building a team that can have long-term success. However, most GMs value the future too much and rely too much on what could be instead of what is. The future is never guaranteed. If you have a team that’s contending right now, you go for it. Taking a risk energizes the fan base and gives your team the best possible shot to win now. You can worry about the future when it gets here. Otherwise you may be perpetually rebuilding, always having a decent team, but one that can never seem to get over the hump. As the old saying goes, flags fly forever. Give your team their shot at glory, and even if it costs you long term, at least you had that moment in the sun.
PHOEBE...(7-19-09)
I have always hated small dogs. A dog is supposed to be a loyal and faithful companion, one who will protect you in times of need. And somehow I don’t think would-be thieves will be deterred by the menacing bark of a chihuahua. What’s the little ankle-biter going to do? Small dogs are all bark and very little bite. Worse, they seem to have a Napoleonic complex where they make up for their small size by being very loud.
Small dogs do have one bright side. They are kind enough to hide little “gifts” around the house for the owner to find later. Often on the brand new $10,000 Persian rug you just purchased. How lovely!
So small dogs are loud, obnoxious, poop everywhere, and have to be walked several times a day. In return for your troubles you get … nothing. I suppose you get companionship. But if you want someone who barks at you all the time why not just get a wife instead? (KIDDING!)
So I suppose it was poetic justice that my family had to watch my aunt’s bichon frise, Phoebe, while she went on vacation. Phoebe, when standing upright, can reach my knees.
Apparently little Phoebe enjoys shoes, so we had to take all of our footwear out of the kitchen. We also gated off the kitchen and kept Phoebe there to discourage her from leaving “gifts” throughout the house.
We also have to take Phoebe out every two hours to do her thing. When she does go out we have to watch her very closely. Not so much so she doesn’t run away, but to protect her. We have about four cats ready to give the little bichon frise a beating every time she steps outside. They’re bigger than she is, and they have claws. It would not be a good fight.
After a week of Phoebe, I can’t say I’ve been converted to a small dog lover. Any animal you can easily punt, dog or cat, isn’t for me. And never, under any circumstances, will I ever have an indoor pet.
But I would no longer say I hate little dogs, which is a step in the right direction, I suppose. Phoebe was pretty quiet and was actually a nice dog overall, although I’m not a fan of her penchant for laying right in the middle of doorways. So I guess I learned something this week: small dogs are not evil creatures sent by Satan himself to destroy the sanity of mankind. Good to know.
And if my aunt happens to be reading this, here’s an idea: for Halloween, just attach a broomstick to Phoebe’s collar and she can go trick-or-treating as a mop.
TWEETS...7-13-09
The Steve McNair Saga has taken so many twists and turns you need a GPS just to follow it. An NFL quarterback and married father of four shot by his 20-year-old girlfriend because she suspects he is having another affair? Truth is stranger than fiction.
One of the most bizarre sidebars of the whole event was the outrage over the tweets* of Holly Robinson Peete, wife of former NFL quarterback Rodney Peete. Apparently Ms. Peete tweeted that the McNair fiasco might "scare married men straight like the '87 film 'Fatal Attraction' did for a while."
Ok, lets think about this. To recap, an NFL quarterback is shot by his 20-year-old mistress because she suspects he is having another affair, and we are worried what the wife of another quarterback, completely unrelated to this entire chain of events, is thinking. Why?
Granted, the comments weren’t the most sensitive, and Ms. Peete did later retract them. But she did write them on a public forum, and soon they became more public than she probably ever intended. And therein lies the danger of instant media. You write your knee-jerk reactions, and even if upon further reflection your first reaction is a mistake, it’s too late. What’s done is done.
But I’m not here to bash Twitter, Facebook, or any other sort of instant social media. Rather, what I find appalling is the treatment such social media get in the mainstream media. I’ve read a number of articles and heard a number of radio commentators bashing such websites because they are full of silly, useless thoughts that aren’t worth reading. But by slamming the website, those in the news are inadvertently helping Twitter become more popular by giving it free advertising. Instead those in the mainstream media should just ignore Twitter completely.
Part of the reason the media treats Twitter the way it does is fear. For so long, the only way to reach athletes was through TV, newspaper, and radio interviews. Now, people can go directly to the athlete through Twitter, eliminating the middle man. The internet has made athletes increasingly accessible to fans directly, and traditional media powers don’t like it one bit.
Another common fear of Twitter is the direction that it is taking media in general. My colleagues, or future colleagues, try to prognosticate where media will be in ten years with the likes of Twitter. Will it replace media as we know it? Will newspapers and television news cease to exist because of Twitter?
No, they won’t. Newspapers are moving more online, and it’s true the internet has brought us many more citizen journalists, but it’s no reason to be fearful of the direction of media. There will always be a need for high-quality journalism, like the kind found in newspapers (well, most newspapers) and online at certain reputable blogs. Websites like Twitter just allow us a peek into the minds of our friends, acquaintances, and athletes we wish to stalk. So, my friends in the media, don’t worry. Twitter will not replace you as journalists. It is merely filling a void that you cannot, namely, what (fill in the athlete) is thinking right this instant. Now those who care have access to the innermost thoughts of celebrities. And I can go on with my happy life, blissfully unaware of what Michael Jordan thinks of the new “Transformers” movie.
*= A “tweet”, for those of you that have a life, is a posting on the website “Twitter” where you can follow the every move of your friends. They make “tweets” in 140 characters or less about their day, or about whatever is on their minds. (“Going to bathroom”. “Making lunch. Peanut butter sandwich. Yum!” “”Eating my sandwich. It’s a little dry.”) It’s truly thrilling stuff.
WHY WE REALLY CELEBRATE THE FOURTH OF JULY...(7-5-09)
As we celebrate the 223rd birthday of our nation by blowing things up, historians would like to take this opportunity to remind us that July 4, 1776 was not, in fact, a significant date in the founding of our country. The call for independence was made on June 7 of that year, and 12 of the 13 colonies voted to support the resolution on July 2. On July 4 the document was formally endorsed, but it wasn’t actually signed until August 2. So, we are really setting off fireworks to remember the day the declaration was formally endorsed. Important? Sure. But not particularly exciting. All in all, July 4, 1776 was a fairly dull day
To those historians who feel a need to remind us of this, I say: Shut up already! We get it! July 4 wasn’t a huge deal. But who cares?
I understand the need for remembering history accurately. It is the job of historians to look back and see what happened, and to do so as precisely as possible. However, in some cases we need to leave well enough alone. Who cares if the Declaration of independence was actually signed on July 4, August 2, or some time in November? We gather with our friends, family, and fireworks to celebrate the idea of freedom and the fact that we live in the best country in the world. It is about values, beliefs, and ideas, not some old guys signing a piece of paper.
Sometimes we can’t see the forest for the trees. We get so wrapped up in specifics that we lose sight of the big picture. Certainly I’m guilty of it, and I’m sure many others are, too. I get so focused on doing well on a certain paper, or getting a good grade in a particular class that I forget why I’m in college: to learn. In the end, how much I learned the ultimate measure of the success of my college experience. I just have to be careful to keep that in mind and not get too wrapped up in individual classes.
This happens in everyday life as well. You are falling behind at work so you stay late instead of spending time with your family, when the only reason you work is so you can provide a better life for your family. Of course we have to complete our projects at work and do what we are asked, but at the same time you have to stop and remember what’s truly important.
So as you are setting off fireworks this Fourth of July, don’t worry about what happened on this day 233 years ago. Keep in mind the big picture of the values and ideas you are celebrating instead. And as you go through your life, always think about what’s truly important. It’s easy to get bogged down in the details of everyday life, but it’s the big picture that really matters.
CELEBRITY PASSINGS...(6-29-09)
Celebrity deaths fascinate me. Well, not the death itself, but rather public reaction when such a well-known figure dies.
This past week is a great example following the deaths of Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, and Billy Mays. For me, a celebrity death is like any other death of someone I didn’t personally know. Yes, it’s sad. It’s always sad when another person dies. But beyond that, I’m just not that interested in the details.
Following the death of a celebrity, people seem to feel some urge to call into their favorite radio show and share their favorite memories of the deceased. They talk about the impact said celebrity had on their life, how they will be missed, and so on. The day after Michael Jackson died, I couldn’t find any radio station playing music because they were all talking about his death (even the sports station was talking about it!), and those that were playing music were playing Michael Jackson songs. Come on people! Enough is enough! Yes, I’m sorry he died. But he had no impact on my life whatsoever. And for most people, the extent of his “impact” was to make songs they liked. Well, making songs and providing an easy target for late-night comedians.
The outpouring of emotion can be downright sickening. People seem to lose all sense of perspective with reality. Again, I’m sorry they died. But you did not personally know them, and they did not know you. Nothing in your life will change. You knew them not for who they were but for what they did. And their works will live on. About the only difference now is that most people will declare a brief moratorium on Michael Jackson jokes.
I could never understand people’s fascination with the lives and deaths of celebrities. Endless gossip magazines and websites make it nearly impossible not to know the latest in the Jon and Kate saga or who Miley Cyrus is dating. Apparently there is a huge market for such celebrity happenings, knowing who’s doing what and who’s going where. I just find it strange to obsess over a celebrity. Do you want to know what they are not doing right now? Obsessing over you. They have no idea who you are. You will probably never meet them in person, and if you do it will be for about two seconds. Seriously, obsessing over celebrities is not worth it.
Celebrities are just people with a very specific talent. Just because they have this talent (singing, hitting a baseball, acting, etc) does not necessarily make them more interesting than Joe Schmoe. So can we please stop talking about them? This applies to both life and death. Death is always a sad thing. But let’s not pretend you lost your best friend here. Let the real family and friends grieve in peace, and you go on with your happy life as though nothing has changed. Because in reality, it hasn’t.
DRIVING SCHOOL...6-22-09
As part of my summer job I had to take a driving course in order to operate company vehicles. So yesterday I had to drive three hours in order to learn how to properly drive, which meant leaving home at 4:30 AM. Before this I didn’t realize the morning had a 4:30 as well. I even beat the sun up. Now, during the winter, yeah, it happens. But this was the second longest day of the year. If you are up before the sun on the second-longest day of the year, that’s a problem. I spent the day alternating between a classroom and the airport parking lot where I applied what I learned. The driving was the best part. I and my fellow classmates would go out, hit the gas, then quickly slam on the brakes as hard as we could, just so we knew how ABS brakes operated (you can still steer after you slam on ABS brakes, but not with non-ABS brakes). Of course, I did this all using a company truck. There is no way I would abuse my own personal vehicle like this.
The toughest part of the day was the slalom. We had to drive our trucks in and out of cones at 35 miles per hour. Our instructors communicated with us via walkie-talkie over the radio, because apparently they didn’t trust us enough to ride along as we drove. So whenever one of us got criticized, everyone heard it. My first time through the slalom didn’t go so well. As I finished up the instructor asked, "Do you want to come back? You missed one." Oops. Ok, that didn’t work.
Thankfully I wasn’t the only one. Another guy was told, "If you were trying to hit every cone you did terrific." After a few bad runs in a row, the instructor asked, "Can you believe these are PROFESSIONAL truck drivers?" We did get better as a group, however, and in our last run I don’t think any of us hit any cones.
There was also a "skid-car", which was a car with both front and rear wheel turning to simulate a skid-out. I would be driving along minding my own business and the instructor would turn the rear wheels one way or the other to send me into a skid. I would have to quickly adjust the front wheels to control the skid. I actually did pretty well at this, although a couple of times I accidently hit the accelerator a little bit. Probably not the best thing to do when skidding out.
All in all it was a fun day and I actually did learn a lot. Some of the techniques were easy for me to adapt, but others are taking some getting used to. Above all, I now know that if there ever happen to be some poles sitting in the middle of the road, I am able to drive in and out of them at 35 miles per hour. That’s always a good skill to have.
THREE DOWN, ONE TO GO…6-14-09
Barring any unforeseen circumstances, I have now (somehow) made it through three of the necessary four years of college. This required a minor miracle and numerous prayers from friends and family, but so far, so good.
Unfortunately the schedule was rather unfriendly to me this time around and gave me a final exam in the last possible time slot, from 3 to 5 on Friday afternoon. Keep in mind, most colleges got out a month ago. And now most of my fellow Wildcats were out as well. So I was one of approximately three students still in college studying for exams. It didn’t help that everyone else in my dorm had finished and was moving out. I would be quietly studying in my room when in the hallway there would be lots of banging and clanging as friends cleared out their dorm rooms.
I even volunteered to help a few friends move out, although I found out afterwards that this was a mistake. When one friend said he could use me “later”, I thought he meant 5 or 6. But no. At 10:30 that evening I found myself helping him haul all his worldly possessions three blocks down the street on a skateboard. I have no idea how I got myself into this mess, but this definitely felt like an “only in college” moment.
The one plus side to staying late is that I got everyone’s spare food that they couldn’t use. This didn’t quite make up for having to stay at school all week and study while everyone else was partying, but hey, I’m not going to turn down free food. But after all that, the year is done, and I am officially a college senior.
(HOT) DOGGIN’ IT...6-7-09
Some foods, when done well, are worth a lot of effort to get. I’m willing to drive a long way to get a good steak. I’ll also travel when I find a great Italian or Mexican place. A good hot dog place, however, not so much.
One of my friends, Jared, was ranting and raving about how great Gene and Jude’s hot dogs were. “Best hot dogs in all of Chicago!” he claimed. But isn’t that like being the tallest person at a midget convention? It just doesn’t take much.
With Italian, Mexican, or steaks, there is no limit to how good the food can be. Great ingredients and skillful preparation can make your meal one to remember. But with hot dogs, there is a certain ceiling to how good they can be. After all, if you have great beef or pork, you are not going to use it to make a hot dog. Hot dogs are never going to be created using the best ingredients, and thus can only be so good. Yes, there are good hot dogs and bad hot dogs, but even the best are not worth a great deal of effort.
Despite my reservations I went along for the ride as Jared led the half-hour pilgrimage to Gene and Jude’s. “You won’t be disappointed,” Jared claimed. Greg, James, and Yuri also came along for a taste of “Chicago’s best hot dog”.
After a 30-minute car ride we pulled up to Gene and Jude’s. It was a dive of a restaurant, a little hole in the wall that didn’t even have any seating. You had to eat outside wherever you could find a place. I was amazed at the line, some 15 or 20 people long. How could this many people be craving a hot dog at 9:30 at night? “I told you they were good!” Jared crowed. They better be.
I had plenty of time to study the menu and I considered my choices. I could have the hot dog or the hot dog. That was it. I’ll give Gene and Jude this: they know what they do well and stick to it.
At least the price was right. A hot dog and fries were $2. I figured they’d cost twice as much. I placed my order, got my food, paid and went outside to look for a place to sit. I ended up leaning on the railing in front of our car. As I said, there just weren’t many places to sit. I ate my fries first, which were hotter than a stolen tamale. I’m pretty sure my tongue had grill marks when I finished. They were ok, but I was less than impressed. But now it was time for the main event: the hot dog. Was it worth driving half an hour for the tube steak?
No. I munched on the hot dog, bite after bite, hoping it would get better. It didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t a bad hot dog. In fact, other than grilled hot dogs from home, I’m not sure I’ve ever had a better one. But even so, it was just a hot dog.
The others finished their meal soon after I did and were all pleased with the results. Apparently I’m the only one who doesn’t get impressed by a hot dog.
Although the hot dog itself wasn’t worth it, the experience was. I had a “good” Chicago hot dog and had one last hurrah with my friends before we buckled down for finals and left for the summer. But it reinforced my belief that a hot dog, no matter how good, is just a hot dog.
HOT DOG CHUMPION...5-24-09
There are two ways to lure a college student into doing just about anything: free food, or free things. So recently when my dorm sponsored a hot dog eating contest, I thought I hit the jackpot. All the hot dogs you can eat, plus a chance to win a $75 gift certificate to target. What more could a guy ask for?
How hard could it be? I’ve seen Kobayashi, Joey Chestnut, and other professional eaters down hot dogs like they were nothing. Heck, Chestnut ate 66 hot dogs in 12 minutes last year. All we had to consume was 10. I’d even have room left over for dessert!
Deciding competitive eating is easy after watching Joey Chestnut is akin to deciding hitting a baseball is easy after watching Albert Pujols. Yes, he makes it look easy, but he also happens to be the best person at his particular craft in the entire world. Not exactly a fair test of how difficult a task is.
I even did a little preparing. I knew to dip the buns in water to contract them so they took up less space, but I also drank a lot of water to expand my stomach, and made sure to eat lightly the day of the contest. That $75 was mine.
I walked up to the table and saw I only had one other competitor, Steven. So already I was guaranteed a prize, because second place won $25 from Target. But I wanted the $75.
Right before the contest I received some disturbing news: there were only enough hot dogs for each of us to have five, not 10. I had prepared for a marathon and we were having a sprint. My mental preparation was all for naught. No matter. I still wanted to win.
The contest started and we were off. After one hot dog I was already a little behind. I dipped faster, chewed more quickly, but to no avail. After two and three hot dogs, I fell further behind yet. Soon Steven was down to his last hot dog. But he was starting to slow down. I downed my fourth hot dog and started on my fifth. It would take a dramatic comeback, but just maybe I could do it. I bit into my last hot dog and was still going strong.
Alas, the comeback was not to be. Steven approached the last few bites of his hot dog and I still had so far to go. I took three more futile bites but it wasn’t enough as Steven polished off his fifth hot dog to claim the victory. He did it in under three minutes.
I shook Steven’s hand and congratulated him on the win. It truly was an impressive performance on his part. Steven left and I sat down for a moment, dejected. All that preparation for nothing. My friends came up and shook my hand, congratulating me on a good contest. That helped me feel better, but nothing like the warm glow of victory.
What did help was getting the $25 gift card. While $75 would have obviously been better, $25 was nothing to sneeze at. I could get all the Pepto-Bismol I would need after eating that many hot dogs that fast.
My first foray into competitive eating wasn’t as successful as I had hoped. It didn’t leave a good taste in my mouth, but I did get experience necessary should the need to eat competitively ever arise again. That said, I’m not booking my trip to the 4th of July Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest just yet.
CLEANING UP MY ACT…(5-17-09)
I’m on the Facilities Committee at the Sheil Center, my local church, and one of the main responsibilities of that committee is to take charge of the “Church Clean-up Days” that we have once every four months. One Saturday each quarter, members of the congregation get together to help clean up the church and surrounding area. This includes dusting and vacuuming, rearranging furniture as needed, making sure the tool shed has the appropriate equipment for the season (garden hoses, rakes, and extension cords in the spring, shovels and a snowblower for the winter). It’s nothing too difficult, but they need to be done. However, on the “To-do” list was one item of particular note: “power wash garbage cans”. Power wash the garbage cans? How dirty can they get? Isn’t that like using an elephant gun to kill a mouse?
The answer to that, as it turns out, is a resounding “no”. The lid to the recycle bin was so sticky that I didn’t gave to carry it up. I just had someone stick it on my back. A few trips like that and I was able to get everything outside, ready to be power-washed. I grasped the nozzle in both hands and looked up and down the row of garbage cans, some 20 in all. How does a place that size produce that much garbage?
I first turned my attention towards the recycle bins. Any stickier and those things would qualify as an adhesive. I washed the lids first, then the inside of the containers. Then one by one I hosed down the other garbage cans, inside and out.
The problem is that Sheil hosts many events and adheres to the saying “If you feed them, they will come.” Thus, anything that happens at Sheil has enough food to supply an army platoon. Which leads to a lot of very nasty garbage.
While washing out the insides of the containers I kept getting hit with the backsplash. I had to leave the power washer on full blast to get as much crap as possible. And in this case, “crap” is not metaphorical; it is literal.
After finishing the garbage cans I was ready for a break. My jeans were soaked and covered in food remains that were several years old and other stuff that I simply don’t want to know.
Sadly the break was not to be. I had to take the power washer out front to wash off a bench that was covered in moss. I was surprised that I was actually able to clean off the bench pretty nicely. Of course I had to reach in some pretty tight spots and thus got some moss on me to match the three-year-old garbage from earlier.
That was it for the power washer. It was getting close to noon, so we were almost done. Before I could leave, however, I had one more task: vacuum the lint from behind the dryer, so it didn’t accidently catch fire. Ok, not too tough.
I grabbed the shop vacuum, plugged it in, reached behind the dryer, and… nothing. What’s wrong?
The lint had solidified. Are you kidding me? I didn’t know lint could do that! How long had it been back there?
I had to use the vacuum head to scrape chunks up. At first, I pushed the lint into the hose but after clogging the machine a couple of times I decided that I might need a new strategy. So the rest of the time I kept a garbage can nearby and just used the vacuum to scrape up a chunk of lint, pulled it off the vacuum head, and threw it in the garbage. I was too big and too hard to fit go through the vacuum hose.
I finally got most of the lint, just in time for lunch. As I put the vacuum away I looked at my shirt and jeans, now covered in lint. Since my jeans were still wet from the power washer, lint stuck to my pant legs quite nicely. Along with the moss, old food, and who knows what else. Wonderful.
It wasn’t the most pleasant day, but it certainly felt good to help out like that. I got this warm fuzzy feeling. In fact, I’ve been feeling something warm and fuzzy since cleaning out those garbage cans. I should probably go wash those warm fuzzies off now.
WORLD CLASS ATHLETES IN CLASS...(5-11-09)
How many chances have you had to interact with world-class athletes in your everyday life? Yeah, sure, sometimes there are events where you go and have a Q & A session with a pro athlete, but those are special events outside of the bounds of daily activity.
College is different. While there are a few superstars who skip class and are just passing through college on their way to the pros, a vast majority of student-athletes actually go to class and do the work. They are just your average person with an extraordinary ability to perform an athletic event. Just the other day I was doing homework with a couple of classmates, a boyfriend and girlfriend. We were working on solving a problem and the guy piped up, “I hope you are as good at this as you are at tennis, Maria.” Hearing “tennis” and “Maria” together made it click for me that this could be Maria Mosolova, the #1 women’s tennis player in the country. So I asked, and indeed it was. I then told her I worked on the sports show at Northwestern, which is why I knew the name.
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< Tony's new friend Maria.
“Do you know me?” asked her boyfriend. “Andrew Nadhir?” I wracked my brain but the name didn’t ring any bells. I felt horrible because I had just established that I had a strong working knowledge of campus sports, and now I couldn’t come up with Andrew’s name anywhere. “It’s ok,” he said, clearly disappointed. “I’m a wrestler.”
I looked him up afterwords and he is having a solid year for the Northwestern wrestling team, although not at the same level as his more famous girlfriend. After the chance encounter I realized that I had been sitting across the table from probably one of the top 10 tennis players in all the United States, and perhaps one of the top 5 female tennis players in the country. It was a very humanizing experience because when you think of athletes, you think of the stars you see on TV and they often seem different, almost beyond human. But sitting there with Maria and Andrew, I saw they they were just two normal kids, trying to get good grades, hang out, and have a good time while doing it. And it also made me realized that I, too, am like a world class athlete. Well, except for the “being-good-at-athletics” part.
WHY I HATE PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION: PART 106,234.....(5-3-09)
Every time I take public transportation, I am reminded why I hate taking public transportation. It’s not so much that it’s unreliable. You can always depend on it. It’s just that you can depend on something going horribly wrong.
Last Sunday I was in Chicago with a few friends. It was getting late, so we decided to head back to campus. We arrived at the platform just as the train was arriving. What luck!
“Hurry! The train is here!” As it turned out, hurrying was the last thing the needed to do.
I boarded and an announcement came over the intercom, “We’re sorry but a train ahead of us lost power, we should be moving in about ten minutes or so.”
Well, great. Oh well. There were always delays, so this was to be expected. I had a good visit with my friends for a while. Eventually, though, we ran out of things to talk about. This was a long ten minutes!
Finally, about twenty minutes after the initial announcement, the voice came over the intercom again and said, “Sorry, they can’t get the train moving, so they are diverting rail traffic, we should be moving in about ten minutes. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
Sigh. Another ten minute wait. I started getting a little agitated and I wasn’t the only one. Some woman came through begging for money. Just par for the course on Chicago public transportation. The wait continued.
After ANOTHER twenty minutes Voice was back once again, “We’re sorry, we can’t divert rail traffic, so they are sending a bus to take everyone to the end of the line. All passengers please exit the train. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
Are you kidding me? How hard is it to divert rail traffic? 40 minutes and they managed to resolve nothing? Granted, it was Sunday night so they probably did not have their All-Star crew working right then, but still. Shouldn’t they at least be competent enough to handle this sort of thing? Oh wait, this is Chicago. They were probably friends or family of some alderman. In most places nepotism is illegal. In Chicago it’s a way of life. So my friends and I went down to the street to wait for the bus. By now it was 11:15 at night, pouring rain, and we were in a rather unsafe neighborhood. I thought about challenging the gods and asking “Can anything else go wrong?” but decided it wasn’t wise to challenge the gods. They always get revenge.
I just about got my answer when I heard a rumble of thunder. Terrific. Or at least I thought it was thunder. I did end up catching a small break, as the “thunder” was just some guy with a rolling suitcase on the pavement. Good, so now I would only die of pneumonia or gunshot wound, not getting struck by lightning.
After what felt like an eternity a bus finally arrived. It was already pretty full but the driver, feeling sympathetic for us, let everyone on. This led to a bus full of grouchy, wet, tightly packed people and started to smell a little bit like wet dog. Good times.
People gradually got off and eventually I even managed to grab a seat on the bus. Once we crossed into Evanston my friends and I boarded the train and made it safely back to our dorm, tired and soaking wet. What should have taken half an hour took almost two. I hate public transportation.
‘Tis Better to Have Made the Playoffs and Been Swept Than Never to Have Been at All...4-26-09
As a casual hockey fan I have been following my favorite team, the St. Louis Blues, with only moderate interest. They appeared in the playoffs 25 straight times from 1979 to 2004, but since then have had more number one overall draft picks (one) than playoff appearances (zero). Usually I will track the Blues throughout the season and become more disinterested and they start their slow decent towards the bottom of the standings.
This year looked to be no more than an extension of the mediocrity that has been Blues hockey for the past several years. They started out strong and then tanked, falling near the bottom of the standings. As a fan, at that point you are thinking less about the NHL playoffs in April and more about the draft in June.
But then something strange happened: the Blues started winning. They won 20 of their last 28 games and somehow snuck into the playoffs after being left for dead.
Unfortunately this is where the fun ended because they were promptly dispatched in four straight games by the Vancouver Canucks. So the question becomes: was it worth it? Was it worth all that excitement, drama, and ultimately, heartache? Or would it have been better if they just remained mediocre and picked up a good spot in the upcoming draft.
Some fans openly root for their teams to tank in order to get a higher draft pick. They do have solid reasoning. After all, their team has no chance of winning the championship this year, and a great draft choice could set their team up with a chance to win a championship later on down the road.
Although I understand the reasoning, I simply can’t root against my team in any circumstance. Even if my team has no chance of winning the championship, I will root for them to win games, to go as far as they can even if it means foregoing a better draft pick. The draft is a big crapshoot and a high pick is by no means a guarantee of future success. Plus, losses are demoralizing even if they are for some “greater good”.
The bottom line is it’s a lot easier to move from average to good than from bad to good. Yes, bad teams get better draft picks, but they also have a lot further to go in order to be a good team. Just give me the wins now.
I’m Dreaming of a White(-Legged) Spring...4-26-09
One of the sure signs of Spring- along with baseball, flowers blooming, and birds chirping- is white legs. The weather finally warms up to the point where people can ditch the pants and break out the shorts, unveiling their legs.
That’s all fine and dandy, except their legs are white from a winter away from the sun. I have to keep my sunglasses on indoors just to avoid the glare from peoples’ untanned legs.
This coming from a guy who’s legs would glow if they were any whiter. But I long ago found out how to deal with this unfortunate situation: wear pants. It’s really not that difficult.
Yes, I know that you get a tan by wearing shorts, but do it in private, please. I really would rather not go blind from the glare of your legs. Wear shorts in your own backyard, go to a tanning salon, whatever. Just don’t reveal your pearly white (legs) around me
THE MEDIA ITS OWN WORST ENEMY...4-19-09
Things are not going too well in the journalism industry. Well, things aren’t going to well in any industry (except maybe bankruptcy lawyers), but traditional journalism outlets have been hit especially hard during this recession. Papers that are over 100 years old (the Rocky Mountain News and Seattle Post-Intelligencer) have stopped printing and are now exclusively on-line. In Philadelphia, both major newspapers have declared bankruptcy. How long one or both of those go exclusively on-line? The Tribune Company, which owns the Chicago Tribune and Los Angeles Times, among others, has also filed for bankruptcy. Could one of the country’s biggest cities soon be without a daily newspaper?
In the broadcast world things aren’t much different. Viewership is down among the Big Three (ABC, NBC, and CBS) and CNN. Although Fox and MSNBC have actually seen an increase in viewership, its essentially a moot point. Advertising revenue is where almost all of the money is made (and for non-cable outlets it is the only source of revenue). The precipitous drop of precious advertising dollars has forced many news organizations to scale back on personnel.
Even after the economy turns around, I doubt broadcast stations will be able to reach their pre-recession levels. Think about it: it costs nothing to watch CBS, NBC, or ABC. Thus, the economy would have minimal impact on whether or not someone watches one of those news programs (true, some people could be turned off by all of the negative economic news, but that can’t explain the entire drop in viewership). And if fewer people are watching, advertisers will pay less to reach that audience, because their message is getting out to fewer people. See the problem here.
So why is this? Why are people no longer buying newspapers or watching news on TV (or listening on the radio)? Is it because they are uninformed dunderheads?
Obviously, no. Part of the problem (well, problem for traditional media outlets anyway) is the internet has made access to news on-demand and has made news travel faster. It used to be you would read about todays events tomorrow in the paper. Now, with the internet, I can read about events that happened just minutes ago. Papers have begun to embrace the internet more and, in fact, some have even gone entirely on-line. Although this certainly helps lessen the decline, the proliferation of citizen journalism has decreased the impact of major news organizations, who will likely never again have the kind of authority they did in years past.
The bigger problem for the media, however, is content. They have complete control over what they put on the air. This is the key failure of media outlets recently, and viewers have responded by going elsewhere for news.
Two stories last week really highlighted this concept. One was the Obama puppy story. Some in the media have been following this story since November when Obama promised his daughters a puppy in his victory speech. Well, they finally got a dog last week and I could not avoid the story. Everywhere I looked, I saw the "big news" about the Obamas getting a dog.
Whoop-de-damn-do. That’s interesting for maybe two seconds. I realize that just because I’m not interested in a story, that doesn’t mean others aren’t. But based on internet searches, people weren’t that interested. On the day they got the dog, "portuguese water terrier" came in as the 32nd most searched term on google. "Obama puppy" came in at 81. So people had a passing interest, but in the days that followed you would have thought it was all people were talking about. It was a quick and easy feel-good story that provided no real news content. But this is why journalism is seeing a decrease in viewership: journalists are cutting corners and it shows in the quality (or lack thereof) of their work.
The other news story that illustrated the decline of journalism was the Tea Party coverage. On tax day about 300,000 people across the country went out and protested increased taxes. What was the media’s response to this?
CNN and MSNBC covered this by making sex jokes. They made numerous references to "tea-bagging", which is where a male lowers his genitalia into another person’s mouth. Hilarious, isn’t it? Apparently MSNBC thoughts so. According to poligazette.com they made 51 tea-bagging jokes in 13 minutes. 51!
Now, I’m not above the occasional sex joke. I enjoy seeing a headline such as "Yanks’ Wang Pounded" in reference to New York Yankee pitcher Chien-Ming Wang giving up 8 runs yesterday. In fact, he has inspired some pretty clever headlines over the years. But to make the same sex joke 51 times on a "credible" news broadcast?
Where does the "hard news" line stop and "commentary" begin? I would say after the second sex joke. But more to the point, some news organizations seem so intent on drawing viewers that they will say anything, do anything to bring people in. And not only is this failing (see declining viewership), but it lowers the standards for journalism as a whole.
I love commentary. Well thought out arguments that make me see things a different way is great because it helps me to hold stronger, more informed views. But we also need the actual news on which to comment. It seems as though we are seeing very little actual news any more and getting mostly news commentators whose only job is to be outrageous. That’s not journalism. And apparently viewers agree, as they are changing the channel and instead going to the internet where they can find out the facts for themselves and form their own opinions.
The drop in viewership of TV news is largely a product of the media’s own making. By over-saturating the market with light, fluffy, pointless stories, and talking heads, they lower the bar for journalists everywhere. The decrease in actual news stories (you know, the thing the organizations are SUPPOSED to focus on) has coincided with the downfall of the industry as a whole. Then again, this is just one man’s opinion.
UNTRAINING...4-12-09
I hate it when you have to "un-train" yourself. You always do something a certain way, but then for some reason or another you have to do it a completely different way. Take astronauts. They, like the rest of us, are trained to pee in a toilet. It’s what we do. But then astronauts have to re-train themselves to learn to pee in their space suits. Otherwise they’d be holding it in for weeks on end. I just hope for their sakes they can re-retrain themselves when they land. Otherwise, that can lead to some rather embarrassing moments when they land.
For the past three years I have been training to be a broadcaster, to use my "broadcast voice" to speak out. I have certain speech and breathing patterns that I utilize when talking.
Well, I was asked to take part in the "Passion" at church and portray one of the characters. So I went through and "broadcasted" the entire reenactment. Obviously that’s not ideal because I made the celebration of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ seem like a news event. But, like the astronauts who have a tough time training themselves to just "let it go", I have a tough time speaking out in a non -broadcast voice.
The worst part is I only had two days of preparation and, until we practiced, I had no idea that I spoke "like a broadcaster". It has become so natural to me that it’s the only way I can speak. Unfortunately, with only two days I didn’t have enough time to retrain myself, so one of the characters in our version of the "Passion" was a television news broadcaster, even though TV wouldn’t be invented for another 1900 years or so.
Learning a skill is a fine line. On the one hand, you want to learn the craft well enough so that you can do it easily and repeatedly. But you don’t want to learn it so well that you cannot "un-learn" it if the situation calls for a different approach.
SOME RESTAURANTS JUST SHOULDN'T HAVE A DRIVE-THRU...4-12-09
The drive-thru has become an integral part of fast food restaurants. They allow you to get in and out quickly so you can get on with your day. I have no problem with a drive thru at a burger joint or a coffee place. But some restaurants should require customers to get out of the car and actually walk into the store.
Take Dunkin’ Doughnuts. You should not be allowed to drive through and grab a dozen donuts. If you are going to be eating like that, drag your butt out of your car and walk a little. In fact, I think Dunkin’ Donuts should have a parking lot about a half mile away from the store, so people can walk off the pastries. Look, I’m no health nut, I know I’m not. But a drive-thru at Dunkin’ Donuts? Really?
I'M WALKING, YES INDEED......(4-4-09)
This was a tough week for me as I had to do something I haven’t done since late November: go to class.
Last quarter I worked at CLTV, a 24-hour news station in suburban Chicago. As part of the journalism program at Northwestern I spent 11 weeks in a newsroom to get a behind-the-scenes look at a news operation.
I got a chance to work with a lot of great people and really enjoyed my time there, but now it’s back to the daily grind of classes. One of the things that really struck me was just how out of shape I had gotten over the winter. I know this happens to a lot of people, where they are stuck inside a lot over the winter months and thus put on a few pounds. However, it was even more pronounced for me because I had to make the sudden shift from driving to work every day to walking everywhere I went.
At CLTV my typical day consisted of me driving to work, sitting at a desk all day, then driving home. At night I maintained some semblance of a social life, but a majority of my evenings were spent poring over internship applications, trying to grab one of the approximately three open spots available. So not a whole lot of exercise. Unless you count doing cheese "curls" as working out.
I didn’t actually gain much weight because I ate less than usual over the winter. Even so, my body got used to a certain amount of work and exercise, and now this quarter I’m blowing that out of the water because I’m back to walking everywhere I go. I think I walked about as much this week as I did during my 11 weeks at CLTV.
My first day back was a perfect illustration of this. My first class is at 11 so I spent the morning running errands: grabbing books for the bookstore, stopping by the library (and walking up 3 flights of stairs) as well as dropping off a letter of recommendation form for one of my professors (which involved walking up four flights of stairs). Not to mention the fact that I hit the gym for about 45 minutes to start the day. By 10:15 I had already walked 2-3 miles. The sad thing is when I got back to my room I felt a little tired. That was a new low for me: tired from walking? How out of shape was I?
Thankfully I seem to have bounced back pretty quickly. Between walking to class and walking to my job (1.5 miles each way) I can now go for a jaunt without needing an oxygen tank. However, I never realized how easy it is to let yourself go. I had never really needed to work out before because I kept in shape just through my daily routine. Once I lost that I didn’t adjust my other habits accordingly and thus got embarrassed when I became winded from a little walking. That’s a very good thing to know.
So for anyone who is feeling a little out of shape, I have one simple recommendation: quit your job and enroll in college. Weight loss is so simple you’ll "walk" right into it. Just watch what you put in so you avoid those pesky "freshman 15."
IN THE PITTS(burgh)... (4-4-09)
The Pittsburgh Pirates have been the object of ridicule lately after losing to Manatee Community College 6-4 on Thursday. They’ve been ripped enough for this rather embarrassing loss so I won’t pile on too much. However, it is sad that supposedly top-tier baseball players, those on the cusp of breaking into the highest level of organized baseball in the world, would lose to a bunch of 19- and 20-year-olds. Think about it. They lost to a team of guys who could not legally go out and have a celebratory beer afterwards.
Now, this wasn’t the squad that will head to Pittsburgh to start the season. Now, that’s no excuse for losing to a community college team, but even the Pirates aren’t actually this bad. This was a team comprised mostly of the "top" prospects in the Pirates system. Obviously they need to go back to the minors for a little more seasoning. I would suggest a seasoning that goes well with waterfowl because Pittsburgh’s goose is cooked.
"Arrrrrrrr....we suck."
I Don’t Know Whether the Weather Will Cooperate...3-29-09
Weather is a peculiar thing. Last week I was walking around enjoying the near-70 degree temperatures. Today there is snow on the ground. Seriously, what is that? It’s supposed to be getting warmer. Instead the temperature dropped forty degrees in under a week. I haven’t seen anything fall that fast since the Dow Jones.
In Illinois we always say “If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes.” That’s especially true this time of year as we switch from winter to summer. We don’t so much have a “spring” season as a “wummer” or “sinter”. One day it will snow, the next day it will be 70 and sunny. On average, spring is beautiful. But it’s more like freezing cold wintery days mixed in with blazing hot summer days with very few actual mild “spring-like” days.
One nice thing about living in Illinois is that you have a ready-made topic of conversation around the water-cooler. “How ‘bout this weather we’re having?” is a legitimate question around here, not just an ice-breaker. No two days are exactly alike.
One of the toughest jobs in this area has to be weatherman. In Alaska, you can just say “It’s going to be cold”. In Los Angeles, you just need to break out the three “H’s”: hot, humid, and hazy. But in Illinois, you actually have to work. Now, they are wrong a fair amount of the time, but I do have to give them credit for trying.
The worst part is packing for this kind of weather. School always starts in mid-September, usually just as we are ending the sweltering part of summer where both the temperature and humidity are above 90. I always bring my snow boots, gloves, and coat, though, because by October it could be snowing. And then I have to leave all that stuff up here for most of the year because it could snow again in April.
Of course I also have to have windbreakers, sweaters, for the milder weather, along with shorts and t-shirts for the 90 degree days. And trying to fit that many clothes into a dorm closet just isn’t much fun. My closet is the clown-car of wardrobes because it doesn’t look particularly big, but I keep pulling clothes out of it until I find the appropriate attire for the day. Choosing what to wear for the day is often the most important thing you will do all day. Make the wrong choice and you could get either heat stroke or pneumonia. Who knows? You might even get both on the same day.
If nothing else, weather in Illinois keeps you on your toes. Yes, you get used to higher temps in the summer and cold temperatures in the winter, but you are more able to adapt to the change. Even if you don’t enjoy dressing up like an eskimo just to go out to the garage. You can’t be wimpy if you live around here.
You never know whether the weather will be hot or cold, rainy or sunny, windy or calm. All you know is you better be ready for any weather, whether you like it or not.
BRACKET RACKET...(3-22-09)
Here we are in the middle of the most exciting week of the college basketball season, and I couldn’t care less. A total of 32 games took place over the last two days and I watched maybe an hour and a half of action total.
Why? Over-exposure. Its like that song on the radio that you hear over and over (and over and over and…) until you finally just get sick of it. Everywhere I looked I saw brackets. Of course you had college basketball pundits filling out brackets and explaining their picks. That’s to be expected. But what got me frustrated is that EVERYONE in the media seemed to have a bracket. I was watching a morning new show and the two anchors, who as far as I could tell had no special college basketball knowledge, went through game by game and predicted who would win. Guess what? I don’t care! Fill out your bracket. That’s fine. But keep it to yourself! I really don’t care who Joe Morninganchor picked to win the championship.
For that matter, I don’t care who the President of the United States picks. And yet that was a huge story for a few days, how Obama filled out a bracket and picked UNC to win the whole thing. Again, I have no qualms with him joining the madness. But to make a big news story of it? People wonder why large segments of the media is failing. Is it perhaps because as an industry we have gotten lazy, going after the quick, easy, pointless stories (like the President picking Final Four teams) rather than things that have an actual impact on the world?
The worst offender that I saw in all this bracket racket, however, was the 4-letter sports network. They had just about every pundit fill out a bracket, whether they were college basketball experts, football experts, or NASCAR experts. Again, everyone is entitled to fill out a bracket. But that doesn’t mean I want to see it, especially if you know nothing more than the average fan.
Even worse, that same 4-letter network had writers creating imaginary brackets for different things. One writer had the idea of a true March Madness of things that ticked us off, stuff from traffic to politicians to Octomom. The most frivolous imaginary bracket, however, was the one of "65 Best Female R&B Singers of All-time". Really? This seems like an idea from a sports know-nothing who wanted a quick and easy column about something she was interested in. What the heck do female R&B singers have to do with sports? No, putting things in bracket format does not count as relevant.
Don’t get me wrong, I still do enjoy the games, but the over-use of brackets by just about everybody in media has made me weary of the concept. It’s a cheap, thoughtless column that requires minimal work or knowledge of the subject and really contains very little useful info for readers. And the entire point of writing is so people either gain knowledge or are entertained, and these bracket columns do neither. So my fellow journalists and media pundits, I beg you: please stick to your jobs, and leave the brackets to the real college basketball experts.
BRING ON ND IN THE NIT?..L.(3-15-09)
So Close, and Yet, so far.
This past week was interesting because, for the first time in ten years, Northwestern’s basketball team was actually relevant in the middle of March. Usually at this point the Wildcats are just playing out the string, trying to avoid yet another eleventh-place finish in the Big Ten. But not this time.
Surprising wins against ranked opponents like Michigan State, Minnesota, and Purdue, as well as close losses to Illinois and Purdue at home put Northwestern on the outskirts of the bubble talk for the NCAA Tournament. This was a huge story for two main reasons: 1) Northwestern has never made the NCAA Tournament. 2) About half of ESPN’s commentators graduated from here, meaning they were promoting their alma mater as much as they could, imploring the Wildcats to please win a game or two in the Big Ten Tournament to punch their ticket to the Big Dance.
Unfortunately all of the pleading, imploring, cheering, voodoo and anything else anyone tried did not work, as Northwestern lost their season finale and the Big Ten Tournament opener, their bye cementing their status as an also-ran in the NIT. Not the most horrible fate for a team with a history like Northwestern (in fact, this is just their fourth appearance in the NIT ever) but it is disappointing considering what could have been. The expanded media coverage just meant a larger splat as Northwestern fell in their bid to gain a spot in the NCAA Tournament, but I enjoyed having the Wildcats treated like a real, legitimate basketball team for once instead of the punching bag they usually are.
I’m actually not as disappointed by these losses as one might expect. After all, we are debating whether or not Northwestern is one of the 65 best teams in the country. If there is ANY question whatsoever, I firmly believe you have no right to have a chance to win the championship.
I am very much against the field of 65. It’s just too darn big. Too many mediocre teams have a chance to get hot, win six games, and win the championship. Now, obviously it is very difficult to do, but the fact that a team that wins barely over half it’s games can win a championship is just plain dumb. The point of a playoff should be to have the best teams battle it out to determine the championship. Instead we get an oversized collection of great teams, good teams, and a few ok teams who can win it all. This diminishes the meaning of the regular season. As long as you don’t completely mess the bed during the season, you will have a chance to win the trophy. And I’m not a fan of rewarding mediocrity. That said, I’m happy for the Wildcats. They had a very good season (by Northwestern’s standards) and gave the team something to build on in future years. Plus, they will be playing in some post-season tournament and could possibly make some noise there. I hope they do. But, as much as I hate to admit it, these ‘Cats don’t deserve a chance at the NCAA championship.
WILL WORK FOR FOOD...(3-8-09)
I never realized how easily I could be bribed for food. Sure, I was always tempted when an offer for free food was on the table, but who doesn’t like free food? But this weekend I realized that my problem was more serious than I first believed. I’m addicted to free food! It’s kind of like having a drug problem, but more calories.
I started to realize my problem when I agreed to run four miles with James because he offered to buy me an ice cream cone if I kept him company on the run.
Now, if I had an ounce of common sense I would have said no. Yes, I like to stay in shape, but I don’t run for fun. I’ll go to the gym and shoot hoops a little bit, but nothing as strenuous as running. This would be my first time running since early last fall.
Four miles is a pretty decent run. When training, you start small, maybe jogging a mile or so, then working your way up to four miles. You don’t just one day decide, "Hey, I think I’ll run four miles today!" after a 5-month layoff. I ended up with more stitches than the time I got whacked in the head with a baseball eight years ago.
And all of that for a stupid ice cream cone! Don’t get me wrong, the ice cream was good (James managed to gulp down two and STILL ran four miles just fine) but in the end it probably wasn’t worth the trouble. I have lost the use of my legs for the next three days because of this little escapade.
The worst part is, that isn’t even the craziest thing I have done for free food this weekend. My grandparents from New York were visiting this weekend and my parents invited me to go with them to The Beef House for dinner. After some deliberation I came to the conclusion that yes, it was worth driving some 400 miles round trip in order to get a free steak dinner (although in my defense, it was a very good steak dinner). Total travel time was some six and a half hours. Also in my defense, I didn’t come down just for the food. I did want to see my family and such. But the free steak dinner was definitely part of the equation.
I am frugal by nature, but combine that with the fact that I am a more or less broke college student, and you end up with a guy who does some pretty desperate things for food (someone less charitable may say "stupid things"). But that’s ok. I’m running out of college time to do stupid things. If I pull any of these stunts when I’m out of school I’ll be locked in a padded cell.
The bottom line is this: if you need something done, I’m your man. I accept Visa, MasterCard, and McDonalds.
RUBBERNECKING...(3-1-09)
I was coming home from work yesterday and got ensnared in a terrible traffic jam on the freeway. Cars were backed up for miles and both lanes were pretty much at a standstill. I looked up ahead and saw police lights so I figured an accident must be blocking the freeway.
I kept up with this delusion that something was actually blocking the road until I got up to the accident and saw the car in question was in the median, well off the road. As soon as I go up to the scene of the accident, both lanes picked up to normal highway speed, completely unimpeded. Seriously? I was delayed more than half an hour because drivers couldn’t mind their own stinking business?
< An accident! Check it out dude!
Once again I was the unwitting victim of rubbernecking. I never did understand gapers block. Come on, folks! It doesn’t concern you. If it happens right in front of you and you want to pull over to assist, fine. That’s very admirable. But if you just want to slow down and gawk at someone else’s misfortunes, not to mention slowing down everyone else behind you, that’s just selfish.
Not to mention the fact that it killed my gas mileage. You want to get serious about cutting carbon emissions and all that jazz? How about ticketing anyone who slows down to gape. Think of it as charging admission to watch a show. If people want to treat it as a spectacle, they will be charged like it is a spectacle. Not to mention the fact that state’s could make a killer profit off something like that and help to close the budget gap they seem to be having. The more I think about it, this isn’t a bad idea!
Obviously you can’t exactly ticket gawkers for looking at an accident on the interstate, but can’t SOMETHING be done? Seriously, these nosy people are slowing everyone else down so they can look at other people’s misfortunes. They don’t do anybody any good, and they tick off those around them. Worse, they are driving distracted and their eyes aren’t on the road, meaning they very well could cause another accident. All this because you decided to be nosy and look at other people’s business? Really? The key point, my dear readers, is this: DON"T GAPE AND DRIVE!
TURNING 21...(2-22-09)
So I hit the last big milestone in my life yesterday when I celebrated my 21st birthday. I can now get liquored up and play the slot machines in Las Vegas. My life has new meaning! Ok, maybe not. But it represents a legal passing into adulthood, kind of a finale in my childhood.
Last year felt more like a symbolic change because I was going from teens to age 20, but this year there were tangible changes, kind of like putting the finishing touches on my official status as an adult. Turning 21 is of course mostly associated with alcohol and legally being able to drink. And yes, when many people come of age they take full advantage of that right. But beyond that, 21 really is it as far as fun milestones.
When you are a kid, you have so many things to shoot for. When you hit 5 you go to school, and at 10 you reach double digits. From there the milestones pour in, because you are a teen at 13, drive at 16, can vote, smoke, and get a tattoo at 18. 21 caps off that string by giving you full privileges of adulthood. Now all I have to look forward to is age 25, when my insurance rates go down. I guess there are also the round numbers, 30, 40, 50, etc, which are exciting, but again that goes back to what I had at 20: it’s a symbolic change to a new decade, but in reality nothing changes. You are just a little bit older now.
I am by no means disappointed about hitting my 21st birthday. After all, it’s a lot better than not reaching it. It has just made me reflect, as I have been wont to do on recent birthdays, and look to see where I have been in life and where I am going. While I still don’t know where I am going, I will now have a can of beer in my hand when I get there.
LET'S NOT GET TOO EXCITED...(2-15-09)
It’s funny how a little bit of winning can change your attitude about a team. When a team that has been awful for many years suddenly has a little success, expectations change and the fan base takes on an entirely different feel. It happened a couple of years ago to Cubs fans after the North Siders made it within five outs of the World Series, and I’m seeing it happen again with Northwestern.
When you root for a bad team, you expect them to lose. And as long as they don’t go oh-for-the-season like the Detroit Lions, you’re happy. Who knows, they might even pull off an upset or two, and that makes your whole season worthwhile. So you go to the ball game expecting to lose, but you’ll have a little fun and cheer your guys on anyway.
That’s how it has always been for Northwestern, especially the basketball team. Northwestern has never made the Big Dance. Never. It is one of five schools to have gained Division I status in 1948 (the first year of that designation) and never make the tournament. The others? Army, The Citadel, St. Francis (NY), and William and Mary. The fact that Northwestern plays in a conference where half of the teams routinely get taken makes that dubious streak even more embarrassing.
So, expectations were not exactly sky-high at the beginning of the season. But then a funny thing happened- Northwestern won a few games. Sure, it was against teams like Central Arkansas, but for Northwestern, a win’s a win. Then Northwestern got into conference play and started playing well against ranked teams. They led Purdue by 14 before losing that game by 1, then went on to beat Michigan State on the road and Minnesota at home. All three of those teams were in the Top 25. Could this be the year Northwestern finally makes the tournament?
Losses to Michigan and Iowa, neither of whom is that great, dampened that feeling, but that set the stage for the big in-state rivalry game with Illinois. The Fighting Illini came in ranked 20. A win for Northwestern would put them in great position to make the tournament, beating three ranked teams and taking a fourth down to the wire.
The arena was packed with a mix of orange and purple (although Northwestern fans, as usual, were outnumbered on their home court). There was a sense of excitement in the student section, knowing that this could be the game that propels us to the Great Unknown.
Northwestern came out firing and built a small lead, but Illinois came back to tie it up early. For ever Wildcat punch, Illinois had a counter-punch. By half-time Northwestern built a 6 point lead and had never trailed.
In the second half Northwestern started pulling away, but one of the guys next to me said, “Northwestern will (urinate) this lead away.”
Mr. Sunshine changed his tune as the ‘Cats built a 12 point lead with five minutes to go. A few orange-clad fans even trickled towards the exits. And the student section was going bananas. NCAA tournament, here we come!
Long story short, in 40 minutes of basketball, Northwestern only trailed for a total of 2.9 seconds. Unfortunately, it was the last 2.9 seconds as the Wildcats succeeded in choking away their second double-digit lead to a ranked opponent.
But I saw something different from Northwestern fans this time. Normally, after blowing a lead like that, fans are just depressed. Or maybe they chuckle a little bit and say “Typical Northwestern.”
This time, though, I saw anger. Fans throwing stuff to the ground and slamming doors on the way out. You could have heard a pin drop on the bus ride home. Fans was livid at the way Northwestern blew that game.
Why the change? Expectations. When you expect to lose and then do, it’s ok. When you expect to win (and who doesn’t when you lead by 12 with five minutes to go?) and then blow it, things get ugly. Because Northwestern has been so bad for so long, we lost out sense of perspective. When the Wildcats beat two ranked teams (and nearly three) in a row, we began to set unreasonable expectations for this team. They are better than they have been, but they still aren’t that great.
I was glad to see Northwestern fans finally caring about basketball. However, we must remember to temper expectations. Yes, this is one of the “best” Wildcat basketball teams of the decade, but that’s a little like being the tallest midget in the room. It just doesn’t take much. Going forward, we can probably expect improvement from the team, but we probably can’t expect a Big Ten championship (or even an NCAA tournament berth) any time soon.
SPAMTASTIC...(2-8-09)
It’s always interesting going through the spam inbox on my email accounts. Looking through the spam in my Yahoo! account, this appears to be my lucky day. I have a bevy of beautiful women responding to my ads on various dating websites that I have never heard of. And I can get a laptop (several laptops, actually) as well as thousands of dollars in cash just for filling out a few simple surveys. Would you believe that I also have several relatives in Africa in unfortunate circumstances waiting for me to help them out? For my efforts I will receive several millions of dollars out of the goodness of their hearts. Isn’t that great?
Over on my school email account I also have the mandatory “Improve your love life” ads in my spam inbox, along with a ton of offers for cheap and discounted watches. That last one was new to me. I didn’t even realize spam was a popular way of advertising watches, but looking through my junk emails, I have more from watch companies than any other.
I never did understand spam. Really, you think a guy is going to see an email that says “Hey, (insert email address here), Looking For Love?, click on it, and see a link to a website like (I am not making this up) 7132538.discovereddiscusscruise.com and think “Hey, this could be the person I’m looking for!” Really, are people giving us guys that little credit? Maybe I am giving people too much credit. Maybe there are some lovesick puppies out there looking for anything, any sign of hope and will try any link to find love. Or cheap drugs to improve their libido. Or low-price watches. Maybe, but I doubt it. Spam is usually good for a laugh or two. Between the insane “way too good to be true offers”, horrific grammar, and goofy websites, I find it amazing that spammers think they can lure some sucker to their sketchy website and convince them of their legitimacy. I suppose the phrase “A fool and his money are soon parted” has never been truer.
So if you ever need a good laugh, check your junk mail folder. Just make sure not to click on any of the links inside the email. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a wealthy aunt in Nigeria who needs my help and will pay me $25 million as soon as I send her my bank account number.
DOZENS OF CARDS FANS PUMPED!...(2-1-09)
Nobody cares about the Arizona Cardinals. That seems to be the biggest complaint about this years Super Bowl and the Reason Du Jour of why nobody will be watching this year’s big game (seriously, doesn’t it seem like every year we get articles about why Nobody Will Be Watching?).
There might be something to it. The Cardinals, despite getting a shiny new stadium three years ago, continue to be in the bottom third of league attendance. That’s a huge improvement over where they were pre-stadium, but probably not what Cardinals management promised when they lobbied for the city to build them a new facility ("If you give us a new stadium, our attendance will still suck, but it will suck less!)
The problem is that the Cardinals have only been in Arizona since 1988, and prior to this year had only been to the playoffs once in that time (losing in their only appearance). Plus, the Phoenix area is made up largely by transplants and retirees who already have rooting interests elsewhere. In other words, if the Cardinals are good, they’ll watch. If not, they have another team to keep them occupied. So because of this, the Cardinals need to do well in order to draw their own fans (right now they draw a substantial amount of opposing fans).
As a Northwestern fan, I know exactly what it’s like. Northwestern’s fan base, like Arizona’s, is made up largely of elderly couples, most of whom have a healthy amount of disposable income.
However, Arizona, like Northwestern, has been mostly awful in recent memory. Thus, those fans with disposable income elect to dispose of their income elsewhere. Now that Arizona’s in the Super Bowl, I would expect to see a large contingent of Cardinal-red clad fans make their way to Tampa. Just like Northwestern fans flocked to San Antonio to watch the Alamo Bowl.
Most of the people in Phoenix want the Cards to win. Yes, they each have their own team they root for, but the Cardinals are a common cause, a team everyone can get behind. It galvanizes the city allows everyone to come together under one banner for one reason (except, of course, those transplants from Pittsburgh).
So I’m afraid my fellow journalists are mistaken when they say nobody cares about the Cardinals. It’s just that, until now, the Cardinals haven’t given anybody a reason to care. But because of the unique composition of their fan base, a little winning will go a long ways. I would expect Arizona to be about average in league attendance next year, with many fans actually wearing red for a change.
I just hope that Arizona, unlike Northwestern, finds a way to win the big game.
THE IRREPRESSIBLE ROB KAZAREK...(1-25-09)
Rob Kozarek was the man. He was one of the top defensive linemen in the country. He was cruising towards his final year at Edgewood High School in Wisconsin and had scouts from all over the country looking at him. He could basically write his ticket to whatever Big Ten university he wanted.
So where was Rob looking to go? Maybe stay at home in Madison and go to Wisconsin? Or maybe to Champaign and go to the University of Illinois? Michigan State, maybe? Not quite. You see, Rob was also smart. Really smart. "Probably Harvard or Princeton," was his reply when I asked him where he had wanted to go.
But life has a funny little habit of getting in the way sometimes. In one moment, Rob’s dream of ever playing on Saturdays was ruined. His dream of ever playing on Friday’s again was ruined. His dream of ever walking again is on life-support.
Rob was in an accident. He wasn’t speeding. He was wearing a seatbelt. He was completely sober. He was doing everything he should have been. And that’s probably why he’s pushing his wheelchair instead of pushing up daisies.
Rob was going out to the farm where he worked during a rainstorm when he merged over too far. He hydroplaned and went down an embankment. Rolled the car five times and fractured four cervical bones, paralyzing him from the waist down. It’s unlikely he’ll ever walk again.
"All injuries are different, but the further away from the accident you get, the less it is you will ever walk again," he said.
Rob tried desperately to walk again. He worked with the Milwaukee Spine Institute, and even went down to Atlanta in an effort to get better. Nothing. All this did was set him back a year in school, so he graduated in 2008 instead of 2007.
And yet somehow, someway, Rob isn’t bitter. He doesn’t sit in his room, alone, and ponder "What if?"
"I prefer to dwell on what can still be instead of what could have been."
Through it all, Rob was able to maintain his positive attitude. He his family and friends, were able to help him.
"(Getting through this) really depends on your attitude, but also the people around you. If they treat you differently, it’s tougher. But if they don’t take pity on you, things are more normal."
Rob doesn’t want pity. He just wants to be himself. Why? Because he sees himself as lucky.
"It could have been worse, a whole lot worse. I really shouldn’t have survived."
Rob could still go to college, but his priorities changed. Whereas before he was looking at top academic schools like Princeton in Harvard, he was now looking at schools based on their handicap accessibility.
He ultimately chose the University of Illinois because it’s a great school academically and is the most handicap accessible in the country. It also gave Rob a chance to get a fresh start.
"I wanted to get away. You have to grow up faster if you don’t know many people."
There is no sign of what once was. Rob is smart, polite, outgoing, and very easy to get along with. Sitting in his wheelchair, you don’t get the sense that he’s 6’3", 250 lbs. And he doesn’t sit around and mope about his glory days on the football field.
That’s because for Rob, his best days are still ahead. He’s an English major, looking to go into law school.
"There are so many things I can do with (a law degree)."
He might be a trial lawyer. Or maybe a prosecutor. Perhaps a public defender.
But Rob seems especially interested in one day becoming a lobbyist. Especially lobbying for stem-cell research.
Although he’d love to walk again (and a scientific breakthrough during his lifetime is certainly possible), Rob is happy with where he is. He has made peace with the possibility that he will have a wheelchair the rest of his life. He’s just thankful things didn’t turn out worse.
In my book, Rob Kozarek is still the man.
FUN IN THE SUN (AND SNOW)...1-18-09
Some people seem to think that, buried deep within each of us, there is an inner child just waiting to escape. An inner child that just wants to get away from work and responsibilities. One who just wants to play, if just for a little bit. I now firmly believe that my friends have an inner eskimo trying to get out.
A week after the snow football game, James and Henry were at it again. They actually built an igloo out of a big pile of snow that was left just outside our dorm from when the grounds crew cleared out the parking lot.
Anything worth doing is worth doing well, and apparently that’s true when building an igloo, too. James and Henry actually went to the hardware store to buy a shovel, a sled, some candles, and a small stereo.
The system they set up was impressive. They dug the snow out with the shovel and hauled it out with the sled. The candles provide lighting so they can dig at night, and Henry hooked up his iPod to the stereo so he had some tunes to listen to while he worked. Building an igloo for fun is serious business!
To keep people out they have a large snow-boulder they role in front of the entrance. The good news is it keeps people out. The bad news is that it freezes to the surrounding exterior of the fort and also keeps them out.
After a lot of work they are able to remove the boulder and get inside the igloo, where already they have constructed snow-shelves for their candles and beverages (digging makes you thirsty). They are talking of adding some small chairs so guests don’t have to sit on the cold, wet snow.
I have never seen such a complex snow building. When I was a kid I would dig with my hands, and usually my dog would jump on top and collapse the structure before I could make any meaningful progress. I do admire the dedication to the project. Even if maybe, just maybe, it is not the best use of time. But I guess no one ever accused college students of using their time wisely.
SNOW FOOTBALL...(1-11-09)
It’s 20 degrees outside and a foot of snow is on the ground, with more falling right now. Cars are driving at a snail’s pace because of all the slush. One wrong move and you’re in trouble. Naturally, my first inkling was, "Hey, let’s go out and play football in this!"
Ok, so maybe it wasn’t at the top of my to-do list. In fact, at the moment "going outside and playing football" was somewhere between "snorting Smarties" and "getting a tattoo on my gluteus maximus" of things I wanted to do.
Unfortunately I have a few friends who think "common sense" means pennies and nickels. And for whatever reason (perhaps sleep deprivation), I decided it sounded like a good idea. What’s the worst that could happen? I mean, aside from me getting frostbite and dying?
Of course, this being a group of 9 guys, we decided to play tackle football. Immediately I began to think this might have been a bad idea. On the third play of the game I went long and caught a pass while falling. I slid about two yards and got a face full of snow. When I stood up I had a Santa beard.
It’s amazing how quickly snow football wears you out. I had about 20 pounds of gear on you and was fighting the elements. Plus, it’s right after the Christmas season so I’m not exactly in mid-season form. And trying to tackle someone is not fun because I couldn’t find good footing. And trying to chase someone down was a nightmare because even if you caught up to them it was tough to bring them down. Sometimes the best defense was just to hope the guy with the ball fell down.
< Not the actual game. This is a dramatization.
All in all the game was pretty fun, but probably not a good idea. More often than not I ended up on the ground after tackling, getting tackled, or just falling down. I got snow in just about every place you can think of and a few you can’t. I also found playing without shoes isn’t a good idea. On one play my boot came off, but instead of retrieving it immediately I finished the play out, then went to get it. Bad idea. My sock was caked in snow.
Thankfully that was near the end of the game. I bolted in and hopped in the shower, hoping to avoid frostbite. The hallway was white from my snow covered gear. Somehow I think housekeeping won’t be amused.
It was fun while it lasted, but today I am officially announcing my retirement from snow football. I currently have all of my limbs in tact and would like to keep it that way.
REMEMBER THE ALAMO (BOWL)…1-4-09
I never understood why people would spend hundreds or even thousands of dollars on tickets, airfare, and hotels just to watch their team play in a bowl game. Why not just save a few Benjamins and watch from home?
Even so, I decided to fly down to San Antonio to watch Northwestern play Missouri in the Alamo Bowl. This is their first bowl game since I’ve been in college, and the next few years don’t look to promising. So it was now or never.
I didn’t know what to expect. I had heard that Northwestern travels well, but we can’t even sell out our own stadium. When teams like Illinois and Ohio State come to town, the color purple becomes a minority. So how could we expect to draw well at a stadium some thousand miles away?
The problem was that I was looking at this all wrong. I saw this as just another game with slightly higher stakes. Yeah, I would do some sight-seeing while in San Antonio, but I was there for the game. For most people, however, it was a vacation with a football game thrown in.
Because I figured the ‘Cats would be crushed, I figured I better enjoy San Antonio as much as I could. And that wasn’t too difficult.
I stayed with my uncle at a hotel overlooking the Riverwalk. The trees were covered in colorful Christmas lights which made for an absolutely spectacular view. That alone almost made the trip worth it.
Of course it was even more fun to actually walk along the river, amongst all the people and restaurants. Folks would randomly shout “Go ‘Cats” as I passed, because I never went anywhere in San Antonio without my Northwestern shirt, hat, and jacket. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out who I was cheering for.
Game day brought a strange mix of emotions. On one hand I was excited for the game, hoping beyond hope that just maybe my ‘Cats could pull an upset. On the other hand, that was my last day in Texas. I had been absolutely eating up the sights and sounds of San Antonio. And I really enjoyed being surrounded by actual Northwestern fans for once. Between the great shows at Sea World, the Alamo, and the excellent Mexican restaurants in the area, I could have spent another three or four days in Texas. But, sadly, all good things must come to an end.
I got to the Alamodome about an hour and a half before kickoff. I wanted to beat the crowds in and have a look around before the game started. Besides, this would be the only bowl game that I would go to for the next several years, so I had to take it all in while I could.
I watched the crowd slowly trickle in, half black and gold and half clad in purple. Northwestern fans traded chants with Missouri fans to pass the time. By kickoff the entire stadium was rocking.
The game was a great one, with both teams trading scores throughout the game. Northwestern did their part and kept it close. Northwestern fans also did their part, reaching decibel levels I didn’t know we were capable of.
I also had to watch myself a little more closely than usual. Although I try not to swear, with two young kids in front of me and another to my right, I was even more conscious of myself. Even so, at one point I said a word that starts with “D” and rhymes with “Sam”. The mother looked back and I sheepishly apologized, but she just smiled and assured me it was ok. She understood.
It all came down to a field goal at the end. Missouri lined up to boot the field goal as Wildcat fans yelled “Block that kick!” It wasn’t so much a chant as a prayer, as though ‘Cats fans were asking God to please, please not let the kick go through.
Whether it was the crowd noise, nerves, or divine intervention, the kicker missed. I was mauled by my friend Greg, hugging me because Northwestern had new life. Maybe, just maybe, they could win this game after all.
It didn’t happen. Northwestern lost in the extra session and I bolted as quickly as I could. Losing hurt badly enough. I didn’t need to prolong the pain by sticking around.
It took a couple of days to put the loss in perspective. Yeah, it hurt, but the ‘Cats made the game a lot closer than I thought it would be. The Alamo Bowl is pretty good, and 9-4 isn’t a bad season, Especially by Northwestern’s standards. And it was still fun to bond with so many others over Northwestern football. The flood of purple was amazing.
Maybe next year Northwestern can play their home games in Texas. We never had near this many fans in Evanston.
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