Movies of Myself

Are You Ready For Some Football

Patrick likes to listen to this horrible local community college radio station. They have a weekly show where they discuss whether vintage surf rock is better than modern surf rock. We once listened to a piece they did with a guest who had collected something like two thousand versions of the song "Louie, Louie" on cassette and he would've had even more except he doesn't own a computer that can download mp3s (?!). I don't this station has ever played one decent song, like not ever. 

Yesterday he tuned into it during their mega avant-garde stream of consciousness "music" show and they played a song that consisted entirely of typewriters in an echo chamber. Normally I would've switched this off so fast the radio tuner knob would've left a burn mark on my fingers but instead I decided to play a silent game in my head: if I could make it through the entire typewriter song, then the 49ers would win the NFC championship game. It was horrific, but I did it. I fully expect a San Francisco victory today. 

Let's go, Niners!!!!!

30 Day Shred - The Beginning

I started a new workout program last night. It is Jillian Michael's "30 Day Shred" and it is a toughie. 

There are thousands of Amazon reviews for it, almost all positive. I was a little concerned, though, about the number of reviewers who called it one of the hardest workouts they'd ever done or who actually typed out the phrase "I wanted to stop the DVD player and vomit ten minutes into the first day". 

It was intense, I'll give it that. I was sweating up a storm, but I was pretty darn proud at how well I got through it. I lit it up, turned the TV off, sat down in my reading chair and gave myself a pat on the back. Twenty minutes later I was still trying to convince my body to help me get up out of that chair.

So can you believe I went back for more today? And that I plan to do this for the supergoal of 30 days straight? Seriously, right now I do literally feel a little shredded up, but it's that awesome kind of ache that means you pushed yourself to go as hard as you can. Dudebros, I am doing this thing.

And down the stretch they come.

365 - 127
May 7th 2011

I've watched the Kentucky Derby every year since I was in junior high. For a number of years the Derby was a huge deal to me because I followed horse racing so closely. I'd watched every race that some of the Southern California three year olds had run in up until Derby Day and I cheered for them wholeheartedly.

Horse racing is a much smaller part of my life now, but I was still bummed to realize that I would miss the race because of sudden work commitments. Luckily they had a live feed of the coverage on the NBC website and I didn't have to miss a minute of it. Sometimes the internet is completely awesome.

Super Bowl XLV Recap

Okay, I was really looking forward to the Super Bowl this year so I wanted to put my two cents in.

• Black and Yellow vs. Green and Yellow - All the way up until gametime I wasn't sure who I was rooting for. The pros and cons for both teams were endless. Lil' Wayne loves Green Bay and he just put out that "Green and Yellow" song. But damn, they use french fries as a sandwich topping in Pittsburgh. Now that's what I'm talking about. On the other hand, I really like to eat cheese of all kinds!  Bottom line, I've actually been to Pittsburgh and I'm a long-time Steelers fan. My interest in them especially increased after the 49ers decided to become agonizingly terrible. But Aaron Rodgers, the QB for the Packers played some good years for Cal (go Bears!) and so I was really pulling for him, too. 

• Only one dude with long flowing locks can have the power and in this game it was not Troy Polamalu. Clay Matthews stole all his Pantene mojo. Why does Matthews look like a Viking warrior woman? It's the Super Bowl, not the Battle at Helm's Deep. 

• I made an onion dip to end all onion dips. Bacon Bourbon Sweet Onion Dip. I could eat this stuff by the gallon. Just saying:

• Black Eyed Peas - Worst live act ever, maybe. Why the hell do they not dance? If ever there were a band that should, ahem, pump it, it is the Black Eyed Peas. They can barely "sing", they play ZERO instruments and they can't even two step? Dude. The only decent part of the entire halftime show was when Usher came and broke. it. down. In an all white snowsuit from future, no less. Flip dive into full splits?!? Usher makes me say oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh oh, oh my god. 

• I was very disappointed by the commercials. I think the only halfway decent one was the Snickers ad with Richard Lewis, but that had nothing on last year's bit with Betty White. P.s. Dear ad execs: aliens don't want to drive Kias. And jive-talking babies are creepy.

• The Packers took advantage of every little thing that went their way, even the smallest of opportunities. And they took every setback completely in stride. Charles Woodson's injury? Yeah they turned that thing into a source of inspiration. They didn't panic when Pittsburgh made their run. They just got the job done. That's some good shit. And that's some great football.

Coach Wooden

via www.achievement.org

John Wooden was the first person inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame as both a player and a coach. He coached the UCLA Bruins to ten NCAA titles, seven of them consecutive. In that time they had four 30-0 seasons. No other coach has had more than one undefeated team. Between 1971 and 1974 his teams won 88 straight games in a row.

My favorite John Wooden quotes:

• "Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do."

• "If you don't have time to do it right, when will you have time to do it over?"

• "Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out."

• "Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are."

My favorite John Wooden story*:

In 1947, Coach Wooden's first year coaching at Indiana State, his team won the conference title and received an invitation to the NAIB tournament in Kansas City. Wooden refused the invitation. The NAIB did not allow African American players, and one of the 12 members of the Indiana State team, Clarence Walker, was black. Coach Wooden would not take any players to the tournament if they could not all go.

The next year they were invited again and after some finagling with the NAACP, Wooden brought the whole team. Walker was not allowed into a number of establishments the team stopped at from Indiana driving down to Missouri. He was not even allowed to eat in the Kansas City hotel dining room where they stayed. In each case Coach Wooden would take the team somewhere else, get take out, keep the team together.

He explained his actions thusly: It was just my upbringing that you never looked down on anyone for any reason at all, and certainly not race or religion. You're as good as anybody, but you're no better than anybody.

My second favorite John Wooden story**:

Coach Wooden's wife Nellie was his high school sweetheart and the love of his life. They were married for 53 years. She died of cancer in 1985 and on the 21st of every month after her passing, Wooden would visit her gravesite and then go home and write her a love letter.

via www.achievement.org

Eight months ago, on the occasion of John Wooden's 99th birthday, I started writing this blog post. Coach Wooden is one of the people I have most admired, not just in the world of sports, but in the world. He has been a positive and profound influence on every aspect of my life. I had a big laudatory blog prepared for his 100th birthday and I'm sad to have to share it on the occasion of his passing. But you know, 99 years of goodness is something worth celebrating.

John Wooden valued friendship and love, hard work and doing your best; small, simple things that add up to a great life. Coach Wooden was genuine, full of a frank and useful wisdom. He showed me that a person can have wild success yet still be humble, kind and giving. That, in fact, self-awareness and generosity were the actual achievements.

To quote Rick Reilly, "there's never been a finer man in American sports than John Wooden, or a finer coach." Rest in peace, Coach Wooden.

October 14, 1910 - June 4, 2010

---.....---.....---.....---

*from the Academy of Achievement

**from cnnsi.com, my favorite John Wooden article

Safe Passage

For the past few weeks I have been eagerly following the adventures of Zac Sunderland after reading a cover article about him in ESPN Magazine.

Sunderland set off in his 36 foot sailboat, Intrepid, from Marina Del Rey a little over a year ago on June 14, 2008. He was attempting to set a record for being the youngest person to sail alone around the world. He was 16 years old.

These circumnavigation stories fascinate me. Because, while most of my brain understands that I would suffer a pathetic death on day three of such an undertaking (I know nothing about ships and can't even swim) there is a part of me deep in my heart that can imagine no greater peace, freedom and illuminating happiness than to be on the deck of your own ship, a thousand miles from anyone, watching stars shoot across an infinite sky. It helps that I have always embraced the benefits of solitude.

But at one point on this journey Zac Sunderland spent 34 days alone at sea. Even at my grumpiest I can't fathom going over a month without seeing another person. It would drive most any of us crazy, I think. At 16 it would've done me in under no uncertain terms.

In the past year, Sunderland has dealt with night after night of aloneness. He has been followed by pirates, hit by rogue waves, nearly been crushed by huge freighters and he's kept himself busy with schoolwork, video games and you know, not dying, all the while. He has suffered and thrived through a ceaseless number of equipment failures and sudden changes in currents and weather and he has made friends and come to know himself in a way very few of us ever can.

And in just a few days, on Thursday, July 14th, Zac Sunderland will sail back into port in Marina Del Rey, completing his thirteen month journey of a lifetime. Awesome.

First Saturday In May

We're sitting around watching the pre-race coverage for the 135th running of the Kentucky Derby. I have loved horse racing since high school and this day is always a thrill. The huge news this morning is that the morning line favorite, I Want Revenge, has been scratched from the race. He had a slightly swollen ankle, probably not a career-ending situation, but since there was some heat in the ankle his team has made the decision not to run him. Interestingly, this bumps a horse named Friesan Fire into favorite position. Friesan Fire's trainer and jockey were the same duo working with Eight Belles, the filly who tragically broke down in last year's Derby.

Everyone's talking about what a generous decision it is to scratch I Want Revenge, and it really drives home a couple of major horse racing issues for me. First, I find it infinitely fascinating that dozens of humans work ceaselessly to bring things together for an athlete that can't speak a word. Leading up to this race a million decisions have to be made and each one of these participants is doing the best they can, yet it all comes down to a horse who cannot say how much a strained ankle is really bothering him.

Secondly, there's a lot more behind a scratch decision than mere concern about one horse. Don't get me wrong, I do believe that the team surrounding a horse does truly care for them. But business-wise, if you push a horse with a known injury, you risk several years of racing and purse money to come and, if a horse is fatally injured, you also run the far greater risk of losing countless millions in stud/breeding fees after the horse retires. Over the years, speed breeding has produced horses that are faster in short bursts, with less stamina and strength. These are thousand pound animals running at breakneck speed on ankles not much thicker than a human's. It's an alarming and amazing thing.

Despite all of this, it must be brutally disappointing to scratch on race morning. I was excited to see I Want Revenge run. His jockey, Joe Talamo, is a 19 year old kid just beginning what I think will be an outstanding career riding the Southern California circuit. But there are lots of other horses to watch, each with fascinating histories. What drew me to horse racing in the first place is the stories. Each horse's career can involve a slew of owners, trainers, jockeys, excercise riders, grooms and breeders, some of them with decades of racing experience behind them, and all of them somehow with an intense and moving passion for this sport. I can't wait to see what happens.

On Ice

A few random hockey thoughts during Game 6 of the first round playoffs between the Anaheim Ducks and the San Jose Sharks:

• It's fun yet mildly unsatisfying to cheer for both teams in a series. I just really want this to go to Game 7 right now, so tonight - fuck yeah, Sharks! After that, all bets are off.
• My first ever in-person Stanley Cup Playoff game experience was a few years ago, as a Mighty Ducks fan, watching at the Pond. It was a heady experience, one I'll never forget.
• This is how irritating Southern California is: ticket sales have been increasing with each game and tonight's game in Anaheim was close to a sellout. There are just way too many things to do in Orange County and once you add in all the stuff in the L.A. area, I guess hockey still isn't an enormous draw.
• It's a lot more fun to be a hockey fan in the South Bay.
• Knowing that all the players I loved devotedly when I watched the game regularly (Mark Messier, Dominik Hasek, John Leclair, Steve Yzerman) are retired now makes me feel hell of old.
• I often wonder at the friendships and relationships in my life that made me a hockey fan at all. Baseball has always been my first passion and I don't know if I've ever even purchased a single ticket to a hockey game. But the chance to attend games and the opportunity to experience the excitement and verve of this sport have presented themselves again and again. I think that's a good thing.

The Big Game

This past Saturday I went to my first Cal football game since graduating from my beloved alma mater. It wasn't just any old football game, mind you. It was the Big Game versus Stanford, with the infamous axe at stake. I am happy to announce that we pretty much sent the Cardinal crying home to their mamas. What can I say? At one point they blew a 2nd down, 1 yard to goal situation. I almost felt bad for them, it was so pathetic. J/k, j/k -  no I didn't. Suck it, Stanford!!!

I was immensely spirited and I clapped and yelled like a flipping hooligan along with everyone else there (after all, I had to represent for my absent college crew: Kerry, Sophia and Hunter.) SO much fun. There's a traditional cheer at Memorial Stadium that the current students start. They yell out "Hey, Alumni. Go!" and all the former students and their fellow fans answer with a resounding, "Bears!". Back and forth it goes across the stadium -- "Go! Bears! Go! Bears!" When this cheer was performed during the first quarter I realized it was my first time saying the "Bears!" part. I turned to my game companion and said with no small sense of gladness, "'I've been waiting eight years to do that!" :)

Wide World of Sports

I could weep with joy right now. I just found out that you can buy one season of Cheap Seats on iTunes. Cheap Seats was a show that ran on ESPN Classic from 2004-2006. It featured the comedians Jason and Randy Sklar sitting around and providing snarky commentary on glorious sporting events such as amateur bowling championships, dog shows and paper airplane races. Like Mystery Science Theater, only with sports. There was an episode where they watched ABC's Wide World of Sports covering Horse Racing on Ice; it's some of the best t.v. ever made.

The show ran a nice and trim thirty minutes in length, so the jokes came quick and close together. At the height of my insomnia I was fairly obsessed with Cheap Seats. Never have I laughed so steadily out loud at a television show. I always wished it ran on the main ESPN or at least on the Deuce. A wider audience would've led to a DVD release. There's been rumors of a release for over a year and I'd buy a box set of all four seasons in a heartbeat. As it is I'll have to make do with downloading the final ten episodes on iTunes. God, I can't wait to watch it.

And Down the Stretch They Come

You can never tell what is in a person's past. I recently had to tell a group of friends and acquaintances one thing that they didn't already know about me. I ended up going with my love of Mt. Rushmore, but really, I should've told them about my racing days.

I don't even remember how it got started, but in high school I used to LOVE me some thoroughbred horse racing. The fact that I lived two miles down the road from Santa Anita Park sealed the whole deal. Don't get the wrong idea; I wasn't really a gambler. Gambling doesn't appeal to me and, in fact, during my last three trips to Vegas, I haven't spent a cent on it. I enjoy horse racing as a sport. I love it's rich, dramatic history and I was endlessly fascinated by the patterns and details. Jockeys, trainers and bloodlines. Starting gates, the Racing Form and the morning line. Split second decisions or years of planning. Nine races a day, each magnified by countless heartbreaks and triumphs.

In retrospect, it was all a little bit out of control, though. I dragged my family and friends to the track with me on weekends. I found myself in possession of all this promotional track paraphernalia: umbrellas, duffel bags, beer steins. I had a Santa Anita keychain that I used for years. It was a wooden horse's head and Christina always called me the Godfather when she saw it. I kept track of the race results everyday. It was the first section I flipped to in the newspaper.

Well, that doesn't seem too bad, right? But let's take a closer look. I watched races on t.v. at night because I couldn't get down to the track too often. I kept little slips of paper in my wallet with stats like "which horses' bloodlines produced runners that wouldn't falter in the rain". That's crazy shit right there. And I said I didn't love gambling, but I did bet on these races. I never bet big, but I also never went to the races without placing bets. And did I mention that I used to ditch half or whole days of high school to go watch these races? Yeah.

So to recap: I was ditching school to place illegal bets on horse races whose possible outcomes I studied closer than I ever did any physics problem. And I went enough that regulars started to recognize me. I think that's what finally put an end to the whole thing. I remember walking through the parking lot one day with a group of middle aged men who had just gotten off the bus. "Beckie," one of them called out, "who you got in the third race?" "Miguel, you know I don't kiss and tell," I replied. "But make note of how well the sixth horse has run in his last couple of workouts." "Well, I'm holding out for a 2-3-7 exacta in the ninth," another guy said. "What do you think, Beckie?" "I'm only staying through the fifth because I have to babysit my sister," I said. "And I have an essay to write about Shakespeare." And suddenly it hit me: what on earth was I doing? I was a sixteen year old giving gambling advice to guys named Leo who probably spent the morning taking his baby's mama to Denny's and then carving a shiv out of a bedpost.

My little trips pretty much trailed off after that day. But I don't think you ever really lose the passion for the races. I haven't missed a Kentucky Derby for the past 15 years and whenever i drive by the track it's like I'm there all over again, program in hand, sun glinting off the brass and tack, keeping a steady eye on a gelding's rumored strained back leg during the post parade before making my final decision on a quinella bet. Someone mentioned going up to Bay Meadows for live racing later on this summer and it was like a candle that had been snuffed out flared up again, much to everyone's surprise. It's in the blood, this love. It never really goes away.

Power Play

Ahh, playoff hockey. There's really nothing quite like it. My one and only previous NHL playoffs experience was when the Ducks tore it up a few years ago (Paul Kariya irony alert), and my god was that a great experience. That's why, when I got the call yesterday morning telling me that I had two tickets to see the Sharks play the Predators, I was immediately giddy with excitement. My usual hockey partner-in-crime is off on a Grand Traipse out of the country, so Amber and I bopped over to the Shark Tank and had ourselves a time.

Even though it's just the first round there's still that magical feeling in the air. People have followed the team all season and now this shit really matters. Everyone's there cheering with all their hearts, spirits rising and falling as a huge collective whole. When your team scores during a playoff game, the rush is just absolutely incredible. And I love how intense everyone is for the whole game, tipped foreward, just barely hanging on to the edge of their seats.

The Sharks won 4-1 and we all screamed ourselves silly, which I guess wasn't the best thing for my already ailing throat. I had a horrendously miserable coughing fit right in the middle of the third period right into my rally towel. When I can taste blood after I cough--that's bad, right? But I couldn't help it. We were just so damn excited! A good game and a great experience.

I Wasn't Sure Who To Cheer For

Last night, thanks to Those In Power at the Janger's firm, Chris and I had the pleasure of attending the Sharks/Kings game in San Jose. it's the first time I've seen the new rules live and I'm going to give them a semi-enthusiastic thumbs up. There were considerably less play stoppages and that works for me. The Pavilion has aged quite well, too. The perimeter/concessions zone isn't as plush as those at the newer arenas, but the actual game area is still shiny and bright. Good clean fun, all around.

Yay: --Great seats. The last time I watched an NHL game from this good a vantage point, the Kings still played at the Forum. --Action. Scoring flurry in the latter part of the third capped off by a hat trick.

Nay: --They have to get a larger variety of "stuff". The same four stands reccur every twenty yards and it's quite disorienting. --It's too good and clean. Total corporate atmosphere. The fans showed good enthusiasm, but no balls. Game doesn't really start until someone in the crowd throws a punch too.

Highlight of the game: popcorn, cotton candy & beer dinner. Hooray for snacky dinners!

Oh, I'm already mad.

Sports notes:

• Will I get mad this March? Perhaps. Jenny has informed me that our college hoops brackets are up again. May the best man (who is never, ever me) win.
• I had my choice to go to one of several upcoming Sharks games, and I chose the Kings, because, c'mon. But a part of me did want to see Paul Kariya again. Just saying.
• Lots of buzz, especially locally, about the completely unsurprising Barry Bonds steroids thing. It's times like these that make me wish I had a Jim Rome streamlink subscription. God, I miss Jim Rome.
• I don't understand why this bit of sports news is not eclipsing all else: there is a baseball stadium in America serving a burger on Krispy Kreme Donuts. Yeah, you heard me.

p.s. Dear Gateway Grizzlies, you really need to add some vital info to your website. It took me ages to figure out where in the hell you were located (way too far to go eat a donut burger!)

Time to sit back and unwind.

So finally something made it feel definitively like summer and, fittingly enough, that something was baseball.

Baseball lasts long enough that it can cash in on the euphoria of three seasons, what with spring training through to the fall classic. But lazy, summer Sunday afternoons at a ballpark are the most perfect example of why it's still our great American pastime.

Caroline was generous enough to bring me along to watch the Giants play the Houston Astros at Pac Bell Park yesterday and I very thoroughly enjoyed myself. We had great club level seats and it was my first visit to the Park, so I was really excited. It was gorgeous and I've never been to a stadium with a view of the water like that before, so it was just utterly cool. The day could not have been lovelier and although the Giants fell prey to a end of game blowout by the Astros it was still a good game. I have my fair share of enmity towards the Rocket, but anytime you get to see a future Hall of Fame legend pitch is going to be a great experience.

I've officially gotten the baseball bug this season. If Jen and I can just get ourselves up to see the A's next week, I'll be one happy camper.

Jen and Ryan, get your tickets now!

So it looks like the Pittsburgh Penguins will be the ones to pick up Sidney Crosby, yes, perhaps the next true Legendary Hockey Player, with the first pick in next week's NHL draft.

Two amazing things about this:

1) I'm actually talking about something positive in relation to the NHL after all this time. Although I've got mixed feelings. I'm as excited about Crosby as anyone, but to be this hyped up has to be scary. And he was born in 1987, which is also scary and slightly depressing.  Not mixed though, is my utter enthusiasm now that hockey is back. I hold no grudges and the Sharks play about 10 minutes from where I live now. Bring it.

2) Something new, interesting and exciting is actually coming to Pittsburgh? I'll believe it when I see it.

I'd like to receive a personal injection from Mike Mussina.

I've been pretty amused by the uproar over Jose Canseco's new book. I won't be reading it, so I shouldn't pass judgement, but all the parts where he insists that he personally injected another player are pretty hilarious. Conan O' Brian did a great bit on it last night:

"This is what some players said in reaction to reading Jose Canseco's new book:"

Sammy Sosa: I'm going to tear an SUV in half with my teeth and throw half of it at Jose Canseco.

Mark McGwire: I'm going to tear my house out of the ground and throw it at Jose Canseco.

Barry Bonds: I'm going to tear the state Jose Canseco lives in out of America and throw it into outer space.

Steve Young Gets Famous

I was so excited to have Steve Young, my favorite football player evah, inducted into the Hall of Fame in his first eligible year. I credit him with instilling in me my love for football, because I absolutely hated it before I moved to the Bay Area and started following the 49er's. Since then I have entertained the notion that Steve Young is the perfect man: kind, generous, funny, intelligent, athletic, thoughtful, smart, successful and of course, super hot. And he is all of these things despite his membership in the cult Church of Jesus Christ of LDS. Heh, heh.

I admire him for his charity work, for getting his JD in the midst of building his athletic career, for still drinking milk at parties when all of his friends were chugging beer (except for getting married so late he is the perfect Mormon posterboy), for making difficult decisions that he thought would give him good experience (USFL), for rising above being Joe Montana's backup and for being an amazing quarterback in his own right. Scoring six touchdowns in a Super Bowl win is no laughing matter. And he was an excellent runner and playmaker. He had the highest annual quarterback rating until Peyton Manning's outrageous performance this past year. Not to mention that he's the first modern lefty to be inducted into the Hall of Fame. And all with a wry and cheerful sense of humor. He wasn't a shoe-in like Dan Marino. I wasn't sure that he would be voted in this year. But he had my vote.

Are you ready for some football?

Guess who we're cheering for during Super Bowl 2005?

    

We're Going to the World Series!

Okay, Johnny Damon looks like he was either dragged from his cave in the mountains or from his position as the musher of a sled-dog team. Man Ram has those crazy short dreads and David Ortiz looks like a goomba. Curt Schilling was bleeding through his ankle-bandaged sock while pitching last night. But the Boston Red Sox have won four games in a row against the Yankees, including tonight's Game 7, to win the ALCS. Yeah, they were down 3 games to nothing. And they forced a game 7--that's never been done before. In the entire history of the playoffs. And they won. Take that, evil empire!

I Hate Kobe Bryant

Okay, let me get this straight.

The Dodgers are out, and the despicable STL. Cardinals did the dirty deed.

The Angels were swept by the Red Sox.

The NHL is totally out of commission for the forseeable future.

L.A. has no NFL team so I've had to leap aboard the Patriots bandwagon.

And I do not like basketball.

Yeah, just wanted to make sure. Anyone up for some skeeball?

Pass, Shoot, Score

I was going to go see Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow tonight, but decided to stay in and rent a movie instead because I wanted to watch this deplorable Medical Investigation show on NBC. This show is terribly written, illogical and poorly structured and I cannot for the life of me figure out why I wanted to watch it again. I saw it last week and it was awful. Kerry and I decided it was some of the worst "legitimate" t.v. we'd ever seen, and yet I wanted to see it again. And next week? Yeah, I'd probably tune in again! They've probably masterminded visual crack over at NBC.

But I digress. The movie I ended up renting was Miracle, the Disney film about the 1980 Herb Brooks-led U.S. Olympic hockey team, which came out earlier this year. It was nearly as cheesy as expected and the acting was kind of choppy; after all, they were looking for guys who were players first, acting skill came second. I have to say, though, that I really enjoyed this film. I'm probably biased because I like most sports films, but this was especially enjoyable because the action wasn't that bad and it was just a fascinating look into the mind of a sports coach. And because it was based on a true event that most everyone knows about it was pretty neat to see the story behind the story.

It makes me sad though, because it would've been a great film to see to get pepped up about the upcoming hockey season. I'm not entirely sure how negotiations are going, though I believe the story is that they are not going at all. This is of course, frustrating and disappointing, not just because I like hockey but also because I love the feeling of having hockey, football and basketball going all at once. I just hope that something can snap and that a semblance of a season can be put together soon. It's pretty obvious that this is going to hurt the NHL, and they really don't need it.

It takes all kinds...

So last night I conned the Pod into watching the Olympic opening ceremonies with me using the big time temptations of a Bjork performance and the phrase "we get to see what outifts each country is wearing."

This was all well and fine until we realized that Bjork was going to perform at the very very very end after the 780 million countries had paraded in. It was still a decent performance; her voice sounded great and she was wearing a dress which they were able to cover the entire herd of athletes with, which is much cooler and less strange than it sounds.

But our enjoyment was tainted by the fact that we had to wait through the seemingly endless march of flags and blazer/khaki combinations that most of the countries went with. As you can imagine, the Pod demanded pretty early (basically right after they showed the U.S. who came out near the beginning because they were using the Greek alphabet to order the countries) that we flip around and see what else was on.

So mixed in with our Olympic experience was a teensy bit of that Jeff Foxworthy "Blue Collar TV" project and a good smattering of AFI's special on songs in the Cinema. But then I made the mistake of turning to Fox.

My sister and I fell from the pure and snowy pinnacle of sports glory to the stanky chasm of its very foulest mud pit. That's right: Man vs. Beast 2 was on. A gymnast and an orangutan "compete" to see who can hang on to a bar the longest. A long jump contest pitted a dude against a black lab. And, in the worst spectacle of human absurdity I can imagine, five little people performed a relay race against a camel.

Pod and I not only watched this last event in its criminal entirety, we even stuck around to watch as they played the whole race back as a replay.

I don't understand this show at all. Do these athletes get any feeling of satisfaction when they do beat an animal??? Certainly the animals don't know that they are participating in a contest!! This show is so wrong on so many levels I don't know what to do, and it seems to be getting worse. I thought that the eating contest against a bear in the first episode was mildly amusing but that's about it. I can't even really feel bad for the little people who lost against the camel. Because they were racing against a camel. Yeah, I think I'll just stick with the Olympics.

Blue

I had the pleasure of seeing the Dodgers beat the Pirates last night, 2-1, and the pleasure was all about Eric Gagne.

I was aflame with excitement when the Dodgers went ahead by a run because this was the first and possibly only time I'll be out in Chavez Ravine this season and it definitely wouldn't have been the same without seeing Gagne.

He pitched a great inning--couple of fastballs, his sick changeup, even got to see the curveball. When asked to describe him and answer for the furor of enthusiasm that greeted his entrance into the game I could only say: "Eric Gagne is god."

Amusing exchange at the game:

Beckie: What's up with these peanuts? They're cold and stale.

Susan: Yeah, they're not good at all. (turning to co-workers) Do you want one of my disappointing peanuts?

I can ride a two wheeler

So lately I've been watching the Outdoor Life Network (betcha didn't know there was one!), or wait, is it called the Lance Armstrong Network, because I swear all this channel shows day and night is either coverage of the Tour de France, extended coverage of said bicycle race or a special entitled "The Lance Chronicles".

The race has unfolded nicely, with Armstrong working his way up as expected, utilizing perfect technique. He has won four of the last five stages, completely robbing another rider for the victory in Stage 17. The Tour is almost over, and I really think that he'll win a record sixth time in a row. This guy can will anything to happen. He beat like, what, full body cancer or something?

When I first started watching the race coverage on the Lance Armstrong channel, I thought it was absurd how slavishly devoted they were to him. I don't think I've ever seen a whole television channel almost completely dedicated to a single person before, but now that I've gotten into it, I understand. Lance Armstrong is not human. Just the thought of him winning this brain numbing test of physical endurance six times in a row with a cancer comeback involved--it is absolutely unreal. Incredible.

Sports Grab Bag

So I am immensely pleased that the Lightning won the Stanley Cup, in fact, much more excited about it than I thought I could possibly be, considering its the Tampa Bay Lightning. Lecavalier is really shaping up to be one of my favorite players and who doesn't want to see Dave Andreychuk win the cup? Who? I'll tell you who: only Satan. Incidentally, Miroslav Satan is also one of my fave players regardless of how well or poorly he does because his last name is Satan. You just can't beat that.

The deal is though, that Game 7 was fun to watch as a hockey fan, but I think that the casual fan would've found the overall series to be mired in the neutral zone, just as a lot of play is now. Don't get me wrong--I like physical play and I like to see hits. I think one of the main reasons I like hockey so much is that skating around with blood running down your face is just all in a day's work. And I do like blood. But I want to see some insane plays resulting in a good number of highlight reel worthy goals, too, and so does everyone else. Screw the trap. The Flames had, what, 8 shots on goal in the first two periods??? I had 12 shots on goal alone, so that's a problem.

Also, if I had a sports team, I would change the name all the time depending on who I was playing. When Lightning meets Flames, thats not effective. That only makes things worse. But when Torrential Flood Beasts meets Flames, that's good.

Dear Lakers (except for Shaq and Shameful Uncooperative Ballhog). There is a game tonight. I don't know if you looked at your schedule or if you've reviewed the basic rules of basketball lately. Here on page 2 it says that you need players to actually play the game. Just making sure you hdan't forgotten. Thanks. Hope to see you there.

What the hell is up with Bill Parcells? I can't believe he prefaced a racial slur with the word "orientals". Can't people keep their traps shut? They're supposed to be professionals. Would it be so hard and painful to practice bigotry on your own time? Its also sick because he absolutely knew it was offensive and racist.

Hm, who is up for a Dodger game around the 4th of July? I'm dying for fresh peanuts and that ice cream that comes in a Smurf size batting helmet. But I don't want to be berated by anyone wearing a barbershop quartet costume and a straw boater. So no fighting and no lesbian makeout-sessions, kids.

Nomar Garciaparra, please come back.