The Monday Roast: Slow Walkers

1.  An airport is not the place for a leisurely promenade.

2.  Left lane is for passing.

3.  Most people pick a destination before they leave.

4.  If you're going to stand idly on the sidewalk then make yourself useful and juggle.

5.  For such an efficient culture, a group of Asian tourists on a sidewalk is THE model of inefficiency.

Boom, roasted.

The Monday Roast: Holiday Season

1.  Happy Holidays?  Get real, it's Chirstmas time.

2.  You can spin your dreidel all you want but you know everyone wants to deck the halls.

3.  You want a lamp that never burns out; or a jolly old man, who climbs down your chimney at night and fills your socks with candy?  I like lamp.

4.  I'm dreaming of my radio station coming back, not a white $%@! Christmas.

5.  After age 16 it's an order form, not a wish list.

Boom, roasted.

BYUtv: The ULTIMATE Homer

I remember sitting in McKale Center last year.  I was home for the holidays and was excited to go see Sean Miller's new team test their sea legs against BYU.  I hadn't heard much about Jimmer Fredette yet, but I speculated that a white guy from BYU, with a name like Jimmer, probably meant trouble.  I was right, it meant big trouble.

As I watched the game unfold I wallowed in emotions that ranged from dissappointment, to shock, to horror to amazement.  Ol' Jimmer proceeded to hit every shot he took: fade aways, 15 footers, 45 footers, underhand, overhand, eyes closed--whatever he was puttin' up was going in.  I half expected the PA announcer to do his best NBA Jam impersonation and scream, "HE'S ON FIRE!"

Yup, Jimmer was trouble.  I could only shake my head as I left McKale Center awfully early for a Wildcat loss.  As it turns out, Jimmer scored more points than anyone had ever scored in McKale center.  Ouch.  What could possibly be worse than watching Jimmer Fredette and his Latter Day Saints methodically torch your childhood heroes to the tune of 99-66?

Excluding Jay Williams fouling out of the 2001 National Championship game--8 times--I could not imagine what could be worse than the Prophet Jimmer Fredette breaking the scoring records of every Wildcat to play in McKale, en route to 49 points, and a drubbing of my favorite team.  Unfortunately, I had to wait just less than a year to find out...

The answer came to me as clearly as though written on golden plates.  You see, on a Saturday afternoon I treated myself to a broadcast of Jimmer dropping 33 points on Arizona, and blowing Arizona out of the water again. This might sound better than Jimmer detonating a 49 point explosion in Tucson, but this time the game was in Salt Lake City; and the game was on BYUtv.  Maroni have mercy!

At first blush this might seem like no big deal.  After all, any sports fan has watched regional broadcasts of his or her favorite team away from home.  In fact, many sports fans appreciate a couple of homers calling a game--seriously, watch a Blazers game sometime.  But BYUtv takes it to another level.

First off, the backdrop for the entire game was Jimmer's performance last year in Tucson.  After he scored the first seven points for BYU the love fest was on!  Commentators speculated about his point total for the afternoon; fans held up signs with Jimmer's points tallied for the day; and the Wildcats rolled over and played the dutiful roll of the Washington Generals--again.  However, this was all on the court, and this was all before halftime.

The broadcast at half time blessed spectators with two feature pieces: a heart felt tale of Jimmer returning to his home town in Glens Falls NY to play a game against Vermont.  That tear jerker was quickly followed by a recap of Jimmer's record setting performance last year in Tucson.  BARF!  Although nauseating, I must concede that this sort of treatment is no different than watching Klay Thompson on a Wazzu telecast, or watching Kyle Singler on an ESPN, CBS, ABC, NBC, QVC or Al Jazeera telecast.

The torture that is watching your team get blown out by BYU on BYUtv is that BYU never stops flickering across the screen.  Every damned commercial is for BYU.  Each commercial break you are treated to a montage of BYU Football history.  This might be followed by the promotion of "TrueBlue," which is essentially a Sportscenter for BYU athletics.  And obviously a testimony as to the greatness of BYU as an institution is a nice bookend to every commercial.  But it didn't stop there.

Nestled in between the BYU-sports-circle-jerk were advertisements for BYUtv original programming, which are billed to "help you see the good in the world."  I can tell you, I can't wait to watch "A Christmas Angel," which is a heartwarming tale of a nonbeliever finding the Christmas spirit of giving, and falling in love.  Or better yet, I want to catch an episode of "Wind at My Back," which is Little House on the Prairie bonnets squared + the great depression + the bible.  And boy am I clamoring to see the next installment of "The Generations Project," where Judge Boyd Mossman will trace his genealogy back to Hawaii where his ancestors Issac Davis and John Young married Hawaiian women.

Ugh.

I suppose, even if you've read this far, you you might chalk this rant up to only the mutterings of an angry fan. But let me make this more clear to anyone not yet exposed to BYUtv: watching your team on BYUtv is like watching your team take on Duke while Dick Vitale calls the game, sits in the stands, does the interviews, and the commercials.  Then again, I suppose that is just what ESPN is. 

Good riddance Jimmer!

The Monday Roast: Standard Sized Stalls

1. If I wanted to be more uncomfortable, I'd have gone to a port-a-john.  Or a 747.
2. Yup, obtaining TP with my knee is the most efficient way.
3. You could probably put the toilet bowl a little lower, ya know, so I could get an even deeper squat.  Better workout.
4. The exact place I'd like to become aware of my flexible deficiencies.
5. Larry David, ladies and gentlemen.

Boom, roasted.

McCarver 'Caps: MNF Jets-Patriots

A recap of the Monday Night Football game between the Jets and the Patriots, in the words of Tim McCarver...  

Although one player resembled Broadway Joe last night, he was not playing for the Jets.  For those of you that don't know, Joe Namath had the nickname Broadway Joe, and played for AFL New York Jets.  He also had long hair, and if you looked carefully last night, you would see that Tom Brady had long hair as well.  However, Brady plays for the Patriots, so obviously he cannot play for the Jets, but with the Jets on the field and with Brady's long hair, I was reminded of Broadway Joe

The reason I make that comparison is because Broadway Joe was a great football player with long hair who played in cold climates, just like Brady.  If you ask any great cold climate quarterback the secret to their success, which I have, they will tell you that keeping your hands warm is the key.  But what you may not know is that blowing on your hands help to keep your hands warm in cold climates.  Now, if you watch Brady closely, you can see that he consistently blows on his hands like other great cold climate quarterbacks.  Obviously, the reason he does this is to keep his hands warm.

As I watched the game last night I noticed that Brady blew on his hands an average of 3.6 times per play.  Interestingly, Mark SanCHEZ--the quarterback for the New York Jets--only blew on his hands an average of 2.7 times per play.  Not surprisingly, Brady was able to make four touchdown passes while SanCHEZ didn't manage any.

After the game I asked Brady whether blowing on his hands made a difference in his play--he said he wasn't sure.  But if you look carefully at the stats, which I have, you can tell that the quarterback who blew on his hands more had greater success in the cold weather last night.    I can't be sure if this is significant, but it is obviously no coincidence. The reason I can be certain this is no coincidence is because when you compare all the great quarterbacks' ratio of hand blows to plays, adjusted for average temperature on their home field, they average 3.57 which is nearly the same as Tom Brady's average of 3.6.  

When I asked Rex Ryan whether he thought his quarterback should blow on his hands more, he told me that I should blow him.  I don't think he understood what I was saying, then again his team scored three points, and Tom Brady's team scored 45, so maybe he should blow me.

The Character of the Characters

They often say that sports build character and they often say that sports reveals character.

The funny thing is that sports is full of characters.  Chalk full of imbeciles, ignoramuses, and assholes; people who ultimately just don't get it.  Bad things are never their fault, gotta get theirs, pass the buck, point the finger.  It's vile from little league to Lambeau. 

That's why my new favorite coach is Chris Petersen, the fearless leader of the blue machine from Boise.

When his senior--Groza Award semi-finalist, all-time-scoring-leader-in-school-history, hometown hero--Kyle Brotzman missed not one, but two multi-million dollar, BCS clinching, sub-30-yard, game-winning field goals, Petersen said there was plenty of blame to go around, himself included.

But that's not why he's my favorite.

What catapulted Petersen atop my favorite leaders list was the reaction of his team.

Kellen Moore, the team leader, pro-prospect, Heisman candidate, All-American quarterback said, "We love him to death, he's one of our boys, he's part of this family."  Didn't he realize they just lost whatever hope they had to play for a National Championship?  Didn't matter.  He stood in front of the cameras and had his boy's back. 

While there was big money on the line and championships at stake, Petersen kept perspective around his team.  He reminded them that no one Bronco was bigger - or smaller - than any other Bronco.  Perhaps that is all character is?  A little perspective and a lot of respect. 

Ultimately, mistakes and successes have very little to do with character.  Character isn't built in the mano-a-mano moments.  It's built in the hours upon hours when there are no cameras or reporters.  It's built at 5am weights, two-a-days, and extra batting practice.  Hell, it's built at study hall.  It's built when you fail and pick yourself back up again and when you win and keep the axe to the grindstone.

The mano-a-mano moment is just that, a moment.  What did you do before and - far more importantly - what did you do after?  That's character revealed.

So when Brotzman missed, and then again, Petersen didn't scream "what went wrong?" and Brotzman didn't throw his helmet and sprint off the field.  Petersen didn't later tell the media he should have stuck with his gut and gone for two.

And in those moments we learned exactly why the Boise State Broncos are successful.  That's character revealed.

That night, Chris Petersen and the Boise State Broncos lost to the University of Nevada Wolfpack in a Western Athletic Conference football game.  They gained a whole lot more.

The Monday Roast: Arizona State University

1. Bowl fail.
2. Hoops fail.
3. General fail.
4. Overworked fail.
5. (see below)
   

Boom, roasted.

The Monday Roast: Automated Messages

1.  Anything that can be programmed into an automated message can be written on a website.

2.  I shouldn't have to enter the last four digits of my social; say my address; and enter the name of my favorite pet; my date of birth; and mother's maiden name before I'm given the privilege of talking to a human being.

3.  If you spend five minutes answering questions from a robot, you shouldn't be put on hold for fifteen minutes more before answering the same questions from a person.

4.  Must you really put an automated message in my way when your contact information is only discoverable by following an inconspicuous link, to an obscure web page, where your number can only be found in a drop down menu labeled "More Information"?

5.  I would rather talk to Nadir from Mumbai.

Boom, roasted.

My 2010-11 'Cats V-Card Has Been Taken

Finally!  I got to watch the 'Cats play.  After a mad search for Fox Sports Pacific last Sunday that turned up unsuccessful (which is ludicrous in San Francisco in 2010 with Direct TV everywhere) I listened to the Idaho State game online via the Idaho State free radio broadcast.

But I still hadn't seen these Wildcats.

I hadn't yet seen if Derrick indeed moved his game to 17 feet and Jamelle became a leader and if Momo trimmed weight and his score-first mentality.  It was not yet clear to me if Kevin could get off the floor more explosively and if Solo was indeed the best player on the floor through one month of practices.  I didn't know if Jesse and Jordin and Daniel could play.  I know Brendon can shoot, but does he know?  I know Kyle can score, but can he regularly and at his own will?  Per usual, I am clueless as to what to expect from K-real the Deal.

But, courtesy of Pete's Tavern in San Francisco, I lost this season's V-card.  Pete took my virginity.  Ew.  While I didn't have anyone to directly analyze with (text messaging would suffice), I got to watch these 'Cats play.

And what did I see? 

Well, I saw that Derrick Williams is indeed a scorer.  That dude can put the ball in the hoop and it is not easy to stop him.  I was ecstatic to see Jamelle, late in the second half, catch an outlet pass on the wing, take a power step-and-drive toward the basket, and throw down with absolute ease in transition.  It was a move we've been waiting three years to see from Mr. Horne.  I hope there's more to come.

Momo is still a question mark and will continue to be.  As is much of the guard play.  Kyelcouldn't hit, Mayes looks raw, Lavender doesn't quite have the handles to be great, and Daniel has been non-existent.  But Momo and Kyle  made plays, combining for 12 assists and the 'Cats were able to score, score, score in the paint.  I liked that.  And on the theme of being what you are, the guards didn't do more than they could.  A very, very encouraging sign.

I think there's work to be done with perimeter and transition defense.  That NMSU (sounds ridiculous) guard had his way with whomever guarded him leading to open jumpers and penetration.  But I was surprised, not yet impressed, with the ability to understand defensive rotations.  It's much improved from last year.

K-real the Deal took a charge on a defensive rotation.  Repeat: K-real the Deal took a charge on a defensive rotation.  If you saw it, you wouldn't be impressed.  It sounds so much better in writing.

There's learning to be done.  The offense still doesn't flow like a well oiled machine but here and there it jumps into gear and it looks really good.  And there's a bench.  It's like a backup transmission. 

As I said, this team will be what it will be.  Through two showings, this team just might be pretty good. 

Cover Your Ears 'Cause It's Getting Just a Little Too Loud

Can you hear that noise?  Can you hear it building?  It's coming.

It's the noise of expectation.  It's an inescapable, incessant, and inclusive sound swallowing all who hear it, chomping them up and spitting them out as ESPN fodder.  It's an outside-to-in, directed sound that suffocates its supposed-to-be un-captivated audience and tells them everything they aren't.

This jumbled mess of talk-show, message board, twitter, facebook, blog, print, and television clutter is nothing more than a massive deterrent to the basics of hard work and execution.

Who cares if the talking heads who's athletic careers consisted of setting screens and waving towels pick you to finish first, second, or last?  They aren't blocking out, shuffling their feet, or finding the open man.  They don't play the games.

Traditionally the noise in Tucson has been deafening and that's the way we've liked it.  Rocky times in the desert changed that but times are changing.  Again.  The drone is building.  The drone of "this team can", "this team should", "this team will" is getting louder.

It's the same drone the football team heard after they beat Iowa-the-mighty; consequently crowning themselves Kings of the West, defenders of the Pacific, America's hot team.  Interview this, prognosticate that, face-time, face-time, face-time.  The noise was loud but the Beavers didn't bother to listen or buy in.  They rolled in and out of town with the most resounding of all noises: a win.  And just like that, the noise went away.

You see, the noise, it comes and it goes; after all, it's just noise.  Contrived, speculating, reaching noise.  Cover your ears and it's gone.  Cover your ears and you're left in silence with but one thing: you.  And just you can be a difficult thing to face.  Just you has to run, jump, hustle.  Just you can't finish second because everyone said so.

So as the noise level rises, Sean Miller will run his drills, watch his film, and implement his discipline.  Coach Miller will cover his ears because he understands that the noise has never done a damn thing for a 19-year-old kid and that a 19-year-old kid has done everything for the noise.

The noise may be building around his young program but we can be certain of only one thing: Sean Miller is 17-15 as the Head Basketball Coach at the University of Arizona.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.

So with their ears covered and left alone, these 'Cats will quickly come to realize that in silence, you are what you are.  They'll find out if they can or they can't.  Will or won't.  They'll win.  Or they'll lose.

This Arizona Basketball team will be what it will be and I can't wait to watch.

The Monday Roast: NCAA

1. You could only be shadier if you were elected to office (albeit John Edwards is nuts).
2. The most amateur thing you've got going is your investigation process.
3. I'd be pissed if Cam Newton's dad made more money than me, too.  Wait, he does
4. No stone unturned. Muahahaha!!!!!.
5. Athletic Scholarship: $40,000.  Director of Fiesta Bowl Salary: $600k.

Boom, Roasted.

I Showed Up At Stanford. No one else did.

This is probably a HUGE book

What happens on farms?  I'll tell you what happens on farms:

Eggs are laid, slaughterings occur, and smokings proceed; hell, I'm sure there are clocks cleaned and children spanked.  All of which happened Saturday night down at "The Farm," down at Stanford, where the better coached, more disciplined and physical Stanford Cardinal slaughtered, smoked, cleaned, and spanked the 'Cats.  Conversely, the 'Cats laid an egg.

I managed to observe this despite my intoxication levels and in spite of the underwhelming Stanford crowd.  I know the Cardinal fans didn't miss the memo on the smartphones they developed that their Cardinal were 7-1 and playing a top-15 opponent on national TV.  Damned wannabe Ivy League.  At least Arizona picked a make-believe creature for a mascot not a ripped off color and a tree who's M.O. is to get itself smacked..

Anyhow, if you're ever looking to go into "enemy territory" wearing the opposition's colors, but maybe you're just a wee bit timid to do it, go to Stanford.  The average tailgater is just under one-million years old and the average smile is just over one-billion kilowatts.  They're so damn nice.  I swear to god my cubicle is louder than a Stanford tailgate.  SHHH, you might be too loud reading this.

Let me ask you: at how many other schools would it take 30 MINUTES TO FIND LIQUOR?  That's right, once off Caltrain (which we could drink on), Hayley and I searched for a half-hour before finding an accommodating CVS (30-rack and a 12-rack, BL and Coors, respectively).

Booze in hand we met up with Timbo Fischer (my nickname for Tim) and merrily made our way through the tailgates.  We partied with the Arizona backup center's family and various other degrees of UA alum and enthusiasts.  Tailgating was highlighted by a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend invite to a 35-foot RV camper.  A-mazing.

We Shotgun Saturdayed before heading into the masacre and that is where my story ends.  Not one Stanford fan spoke a single iota of trash.

Damn Cardinal.

The Monday Roast: Jerry Jones

1.  You've had so much BOTOX you look like an elderly mannequin.

2.  You dubbed the Cowboys "America's Team" and the biggest celebrity fan you've ever had is Jessica Simpson.

3.  If you thought SB 1070 was bad for retail sales, wait until you see what 1-15 will do.

4.  Jon Kitna wasn't even born the the only time a 1-6 team made the playoffs, and your team is 1-7.   

5.  Not even you could build a TV screen big enough to document your ego and bad football decisions.

Boom, roasted.

The Wildcats Take Nerdville and Harbaugh Needs a Drink: I'll be there

Whatcha doin' Saturday?  Fun plans?  Exciting plans?  Big plans?

Because if it doesn't involve telling an underwhelming turnout of super nerds, trust fund babies, legacy admits, tech geeks, fans of an elitist coloure, goofy-ass-tree, this guy, and a team whose I-A opponents are a combined 24-32; that their football program is indeed a fluke; and stepping stone for their diarrhea-of-the-mouth leader--Jimmy Harbaugh--then I think my weekend has yours beat.

That's what I'll be doing.

I'll also remind them that they are the Ivy League's bastard reject and that it's called "The Farm" because it was indeed a farm and that the most famous athletic achievement is a band member getting tumbled by a Cal Bear and that Toby Gerhart is now receiving elicit texts from Brett Favre.

That's what I'll be doing.

It'd also be worth mentioning that Arizona leads 12-9 all-time and re-mentioning that the tree looks like the aptly-diagnosed-with-ADD love child of cookie monster and the lady who can pop her eyes out and that said love child didn't get his nap or his meds today. 

Look,  I don't hold that much animosity towards Stanford, probably really nice people, but let's get real: there's big stuff on the line, I'm heading into their "Farm," and I will be wearing my red shirt with a big fat "A" on it.  I'll have my visor on head and "Bear Down" on my lips (along with Bud Lite and an early bloody mary).


That's what I'll be doing.  Will you join me?

In Tim McCarver's Words: Game Five

This World Series was clinched with a Giant performance, by a small man.  Tim Lincecum stands just five feet and eleven inches tall.  He weighs just one-hundred and seventy pounds.  But he casts the shadow of a giant with his changeup that Bruce Bochy calls a changeup, definitely not a splitter, but I definitely think it looks like a splitter and acts like a splitter but its a changeup.  Must be his hands.

And it was a giant victory for a small city.  Just seven miles by seven miles, San Francisco is a small city.  But today it is a Giant city.  The baseball Giants that is. 

And it was a giant victory for a group far from gigantic.  Misfits and outcasts they called themselves.  They can now call themselves the giant Giants of the giant trophy of baseball.  They've accomplished a big thing despite their little resume.

They overcame giant odds.  Cliff Lee had been a giant World Series pitcher, twice beating the New York Yankees last year and pitching dominantly throughout this playoffs.  If the the little team that could from San Francisco who is ironically called the Giants were indeed to win this World Series, they were going to have to do their best Jack and the Giant Bean Stock to slay the giant arm of Cliff and bat of Josh.  What an ironic analogy!  The team that had to slay the giant was called the Giants.

How fitting.

In Tim McCarver's Words: Game Four

No one could have predicted that a rookie named Madison from Lenoir, North Carolina would be pitching in a pivotal World Series game.  Of course, who was to know that this spring Buster Posey and Bengie Molina who were together, would be apart in the World Series.  But in a post season few could have predicted such scenarios seemed fitting for an unseasonably warm Halloween night.

The night began with two Georges; two former presidents; a father; and a son throwing out the first pitch.  Although that may seem like a lot of people, it really isn't because the former presidents were also the father and son and both were named George--President George H. Bush, and President George W. Bush.  So you see, it was actually just two men throwing out the first pitch in Arlington on this Halloween night.

The night ended in the Rangers being shutout for the second night in a row.  You might wonder why I mention that it was the second shut out in a row.  The reason I mention that is because there had not been consecutive shutouts in the World Series since 1966, when the Baltimore Orioles swept the Los Angeles Dodgers.  That may not seem significant to some, but in baseball years 1966 is a long time ago.

Clearly the Rangers are not hitting well this series, but the reason the Rangers aren't hitting is because the Giants are pitching.  You see, although the Rangers are only hitting .172 in the World Series, that also means the Giants' are only allowing opponents to hit .172 in the World Series as well.  Obviously that is not just a coincidence.

I think if you asked Ron Washington whether this was a must win game, which I have, he probably would say yes.  Unfortunately for Ron, and the Rangers, it was the Giants' Madison Bumgarner becoming the first rookie pitcher to record a win in the world series since the great Latin American pitcher named Fernando.

The Monday Roast: 3D Movies

1.  A third dimension has as good a chance of fixing a script as it does getting a Ben Affleck movie out of Boston.

2.  Everyone on their way to see Miley Cyrus, Hannah Montana, the Jonas Brothers, and Justin Bieber in 3D would have seen it in 2D.

3.  If three dimensions brings white people to crappy movies, maybe Tyler Perry ought to give it a try.

4.  Ten foot Alien humanoids flying on dragons may need a third dimension, but 30-40 year old men launching themselves across the screen in porta-potties do not (or maybe they do).

5.  3D Porn: now parents can look forward to catching their son with his pants off and goofy looking glasses on.

Boom, roasted.

In Tim McCarver's Words: Game Three

If home is where the heart is, it's actually where the run is.  There were four homeRUNS hit in game three.  Arlington has always been a homerun hitter's park, but this is it's first World Series.  Things did not change, for baseball's biggest stage.

If Texas Rangers pitcher Colby Lewis had a dog or family member named Todo, he would have to say, "Todo, we're not in Japan anymore."  That's because he's NOT in Japan anymore.  But just one year ago he was.  He now finds himself pitching in the World Series, the San Francisco Giants playing the role of Wicked Witch of the West, Lewis is just like Dorothy, leaving Japan.

And Saturday night's Dorothy did not get swept away in the tornado that is the World Series.  He threw the ball very, very well.  Colby slayed the Giants.

San Francisco starter, Jonathan Sanchez, pitched better than he did in his last outing - game 6 of the NLCS - but it appears his small hands are catching up to him.  You see, Sanchez has small hands and it makes it difficult for him to throw his slider effectively.  Hand size is imperative to breaking ball ability.  If we were taking the PSAT, that is the Pitching Sanchez Accuracy Test, one question could be

Hands : Breaking Balls :: Breasts : ___?_____

The answer, obviously, is Chicken Sandwiches.  Bigger hands, better breaking ball.  Bigger chicken breast, better chicken sandwich.

Also obvious: Mitch Moreland and Josh Hamilton have no regard for Sanchez's slider slingers.  If you've never heard the term "slider slingers" it's ok.  It's a baseball term people use to reference hand size and the subsequent ability to throw a breaking pitch.. 

But back at home, the Rangers showed they meant business, and that they too can win baseball games, as they proved 90 times during the regular season.  And three time against the Rays and four times against the Yankees.

In Tim McCarver's Words: Game Two

The biblical tale of Cain and Abel held true Thursday night in San Francisco as Matt Cain was able.  Very able.  That is, able to get the Texas Rangers out.  One man who won't soon become a member of the Church of Cain, Josh Hamilton, used the bible to overcome substance abuse.

The early theme Thursday was zeroes.  As in no runs scored.  Cain and Rangers starter CJ Wilson were up to the challenge of world series pressure.  Like rice-a-roni, Thursday was a San Francisco treat.

The game nearly saw its first run when Ian Kinsler hit an 0-2 fastball deep to centerfield.  Tracking the ball far over his head, I was reminded of the Say Hey Kid, but it was Andres Torres, not Willie Mays.  Kinsler's ball hit the top of the fence and came back into the field!  A let.  As in, a tennis serve that strikes the top of the net.  Kinsler was playing doubles.  As in, his homerun turned into a double.

If baseball is a game of consistency, then the Rangers are indeed consistent but for the wrong reasons.  For the second straight night, the Rangers gave up a big inning, allowing the Giants to score a giant amount of runs in the eighth inning.  Baseball is a numbers game, and the Giants scored seven runs, in the eighth inning, for nine total runs.  Seven plus eight plus nine equals a Giants win.

There's an old baseball adage: the team that wins....scores more runs....than their opponent....who scored fewer runs....but they tried hard.  Indeed the Giants have the keys to success.

In Tim McCarver's Words: Game One

Due to Tim McCarver's unique ability to unintelligibly deliver useless information about baseball he was hired by Fox as a sportscaster in 1996 to cover marquee baseball games, the playoffs and the World Series.  In a tribute to Tim's ability, the Homers will be recapping each game of the 2010 World Series in Tim McCarver's words. 



The game began with Elvis.  The reason I say that is because Elvis was the lead off batter for the Texas Rangers.  The Rangers were the visiting team so they bat first.  Interestingly, this was the first Elvis to ever play in the World Series, but it wasn't Elvis Aaron, it was Elvis Agosto, not from Tupelo but from Maracay--Venezuela.  The game ended with Brian Wilson, but it wasn't a beach boy it was a pirate with a gnarled, intimidating black beard.

The game figured to be a classic pitching duel between Cliff Lee and Tim Lincecum.  The reason I say that is because Cliff Lee is a very, very good pitcher who chews up bats with his slider--like Mariano Rivera, one of the great bat breakers in the history of the game.  Also, Tim Lincecum is also a very, very good pitcher who is known for his unusual, uncomfortable looking pitching style.  Though he is known for his fastball, he also has a great change up, though change ups are much better for Lincecum when they go down.  So you can see why most people would have thought this was going to be a low scoring game dominated by pitching.

However, it was not.  This game was more about hitting and very alert at bats.  The Giants offense exploded for 11 runs--7 of them coming off the previously undefeatable Cliff Lee.  Freddy Sanchez led the way with 4 hits and 3 doubles, which interestingly, was exactly 3 times as many doubles as Cliff Lee had in the game.  I was reminded of the great Puerto Rican, Roberto Clemente.  The reason I say that is because Roberto Clemente wore the number 21 and so does Freddy Sanchez.  But unlike Roberto Clemente, Freddy Sanchez's number is retired at Burbank High School.  If you ask Freddy, which I have, he is very proud of that because of all the movie stars that went to Burbank High.

If you asked the Rangers if they thought seven runs would be enough to get a victory behind Cliff Lee, I think they probably would have said yes.  But tonight they needed more great ABs by Josh, the great power hitter from Texas who has a 10 point buck mounted over his locker. Or maybe the Rangers needed more big hits by Vladimir, whose very long, strong arms allow him to be one of the great bad ball contact hitters of all time.  
In the end, the Giants prevailed because they scored more runs than the Rangers.  Luckily for the Rangers the World Series is not about cumulative runs and they will have a clean slate tonight when they face Matt Cain--the big boy from Alabama with the rocket arm and dancing slider.    

Hijacked by the Economy

I think everyone can agree on is this: the most common word in usage during the past year is "economy."  Try to recount a conversation you had that didn't begin, end or get interrupted by "economy"?  Economy is always there, like that sensitive friend you need to coddle along so she won't get upset and ruin the night for everyone else; no matter what you do, it's always about her.

Now Economy has completely hijacked the government and the entire political discourse, and she's holding us all hostage until we deal with her needs.  To be fair, Economy does have some needs that need dealing, but that doesn't mean we need to set aside all our ideals, plans or legislation until Economy is happy.

Nowhere is the economy's hijacking more evident than in the text of California's Proposition 23.  Prop 23 goes by the name: "California Job's Initiative."  The goal of the California's Job Initiative is to suspend Assembly Bill 32, known as California's Global Warming Solutions Act of 2006.  Basically, AB 32 requires California to lower its overall greenhouse gas emissions to 1990 levels by the year 2020.   So, you ask, why would a jobs initiative attack a global warming solution act?

As the argument goes, when the bill was passed times were better and unemployment was down, so we could afford the luxury of addressing global warming and air pollution.  Now times are tough and unemployment is up so we can no longer afford that luxury.  Therefore, we need to suspend AB 32 until unemployment goes back down and we can afford the luxury again.

Any debate about jobs versus clean air aside, Prop 23 is a sad, deceptive attempt by oil companies to use the down economy to serve their own interest.  Prop 23 is primarily funded by Valero and Tesoro Texas oil companies which each have large refineries in California (Charles Koch has also chipped in some scratch).  Obviously California's ambitious clean air legislation affects oil companies' bottom line and they have a monetary interest in suspending it.  However, they're deceptively hijacking the down economy to promote their monetary interests.

No one should be inundated with messages that ask them whether they value clean air or jobs more because the two issues are not mutually exclusive.  To begin, that proposition relies on the assumption that strong clean air legislation does not create growth in emerging clean technologies and more jobs in the long term.  Moreover, the proposition assumes that money saved from ease of air pollution would be reinvested in more California jobs.  Either way the tactics behind Prop 23's promotion illustrate a tiresome message as we head into midterm elections:

Every issue not named economy must go to the back of the line, and any action not directly creating jobs necessarily takes them away.

I'm not about to say the economy does not need fixing.  In fact the economy demands fixing, and I think it demands government action.  However, instead of providing constructive solutions or ideas; people, groups, corporations, and government officials prey on fears about the economy to promote their own interests.  As a result, any prudent idea, plan, or legislation is easily hijacked and held hostage by accusations that it is bad for the economy.

After all, you can't have clean air without killing jobs too... right?

For more information on Prop 23 you might follow some of these links:

• California Voter's Guide
• StopDirtyEnergyProp.com
• California Jobs Initiative 2010
• LA Times: Help California Help Itself
• LA Times: Proposition 23's Rate Hike Myth

The Monday Roast: Mara Frisch

1. You may love Challah, but you were never Hala.
2. LULU: 44.21  UA: 47.25  NKE: 82.31
3. What percentage of your clientele go home and realize, "Wait, I probably shouldn't own form fitting pants?"
4. And your peer group.
5. No matter how hard you try, you're going to be a Jewish mother.

Boom, roasted.

A Giant Fight Finally Broke Out

For half of a season I've been observing the San Francisco Giants.  A team built around pitching and little else, I could not bring myself to become a fan.

I watched games in which their right fielder missed the cut-off man.  Three times.  I watched their self-serving closer with his ridiculous beard and moronic quotes somehow get the job done but never without some angst.  Seriously, who throws a 3-0 slider with a lead in the 9th?  I watched as the Panda went AB after AB without having a clue: he's hitting lefty with a runner on second and nobody out, watches a fastball in for a strike, waves at a breaking ball, then pops up.  Have a clue.  I watched as Andres Torres, the team's leadoff hitter, take the sombrero (4 strikeouts) ALL on fastballs out of the strike zone.  And by ALL I mean he swung and missed at eight (5 consecutive) fastballs up and out of the zone.  The same damn pitch.

For a team needing to scratch and claw for every run, they sure seemed content playing station-to-station and waiting for the three run homerun that no one could hit.  They relied on pitching and then the pitching relied on itself and in August, that just didn't work.

Giants baseball just wasn't a good watch.

Then the playoffs happened and the sexiest thing for a baseball fan in the playoffs is big time pitching performances.  How does opening the playoffs with 29 IP, 3 ER, 5 BB, 36 K out of your starting staff sound?  Sexy.  But I still wasn't a fan.

I became a fan - not just an observer but a fist pumping, jump-up-and-down-alone-in-your-living-room fan - when Pat Burrell, the now one-tool talent (power), went first to third on a flare down the left field line off the bat of uber-enfuego Cody Ross.  Standard Torture (the name given to the Giants' offense by the local paper) would call for Burrell to pull up at second.  Station-to-station.  Not that night.  Off the bat he was going to third.

Had I really just seen the Giants work to improve their own chance to score?  Indeed I had.  I was impressed and on board.

I'm not a Giants hater but I do need for my team to give the impression that they are gonna fight and when they punched back at the Phillies Wednesday night I saw something I hadn't seen before.  I saw a team not trying to belong but a team trying to win. 

The Giants followed with a double from struggling third baseman, Panda McChubby, and it was clear to me that this team had arrived. 

I don't necessarily need a winner but I need to see a fighter and, for the first and most important time this season, the Giants are fighting.

Monday Roast: Joy Behar and Whoopi Goldberg

1.  You wouldn't storm out of your own house because your guest offended you at a dinner party.

 2.  Bill O'Reilly might yell louder than both of you combined, but he would never walk out of the No Spin Zone.

3.  You're like the kids that threw rocks at the tiger and were surprised when he lept up at you.

4.  So much for your signed copy of "Pinheads and Patriots."

5.  If I order a hooker to my room, and she gets naked, would I storm out?

Booom, roasted.

AB Gettin' Older

On the 26th anniversary of the birth of AB, here are 26 things you might want to know about him:

1.  In fifth grade, AB weighed the same as he does now (roughly).

2.  AB's father did not weigh 100 pounds until he was in college.

3.  The first time AB was inebriated he turned to BH and said, "[BH], I am intoxicated."

4.  AB was an accomplice to a severe assault on AB's younger brother's nipples.

5.  AB was once a Falcon stripper.

6.  AB spent an entire fall driving to Phoenix on Sundays before the sun came up.

7.  AB almost struck and killed a Cayolina.

8.  AB heard someone say, "I don't know where my pants are," and it didn't involve a sexual encounter.

9.  AB was inebriated before Hood to Coast.

10.  AB crushed Hood to Coast.

12.  In the company of the same man--on the same day--AB worked out; got smoothies; went to the Humane Society; made salsa, fish tacos and sangria; cleaned the pool shirtless; took a nap on the couch; and is happily straight.

13.  AB once called out his high school teammates on a high school baseball message board.

14.  AB spends every new years with a man who makes a living selling bugs.

15.  AB is desperately searching for a platonic male relationship in San Francisco.

16.  Shaun White once offered to pee on AB.

17.  AB knows "a Carroll."

18.  AB is a ferociously enthusiastic Karaoke singer.

19.  AB ran home in his boxers one time.

20.  AB played tennis for a year in high school because he was scared of the baseball coach.

21.  AB once arose at 3:15 in the morning, got fully dressed, put on sunscreen and then discovered the clock was wrong.

22.  AB deals in umbilical cords.

23.  AB owned a stick shift car before he knew how to drive stick.

24.  AB always has girl problems even when he doesn't.

25.  AB is a 6'4" blond hair, blue eyed Jewish male.

26.  AB is a cool dude.

If I Were Mike Stoops.... (Oregon State Edition)

Tell you what, the Kool Aid tasted pretty good didn't it?  Ninth in the country, second best defense in FBS, ESPN filmin', Sports Illustrated writin', all of it.  Hell, the number nine national ranking.  The Kool Aid tasted great.


And I'm guilty.  I'm guilty of letting us all sip from that fat boy's jug.  Two weeks to prepare for a struggling offense and we let them march to the drum of 486 yards and 10/15 third down conversions.  That's not what the ninth best team in the country does.  That's not what championship teams do.


I'm going to wear this one boys.  I'm going to tell you that I let you down.  The staff and myself are going to wear this one and we're going to be the hardest working staff in football because that's what we're here to do and that's what you deserve.  Will you return that favor?


We recognize that we've got a special group here that can do special things.


We got punched in the mouth.  Yes, the proverbial punch in the mouth has left us a little shell shocked.  What now?  Welp, let's see what kinda character we've got.  Let's see what it means to us to have A-R-I-Z-O-N-A across our chest - or visor.

No one ever said it was going to be easy.  We're still going to play good football teams in tough places.  And we're going to have to stop people on third and louder-than-hell and we're going to have to score when the clock reads "impossible."


So let's get back to work, gentlemen, cause I'll be damned if a beaver's gonna ruin my season.

The Monday Roast: Inappropriate Playing Surface Rushing

1. Yay!  We beat the team we were supposed to beat.  Boom, roasted.
• Ranked ASU and Stanford storm court/field as the only ranked team playing that day.
2. ESPN's here.  Quick, let's be that school.  Boom, roasted.
3. We're up by one touchdown with the other team in scoring position--let's rush the field.  Wait, did we just lose?  Boom, roasted.
• HOMER Fail 
4. Can you name another situation when you would publicly admit you expected to fail when everyone else expected you to succeed?  Boom, roasted.
5.  Let's go band!  We did it!  We won the gam...  Boom, roasted.

It's AB's Turn to Age

I will be celebrating my annual aging event with a karaoke party and I need some help.  As a Jewish male I am inherently a non-decision maker (see: Woody Allen films) and need the guidance of a trusted source.

That's where you come in.  Help me decide how to serenade the karaoke crowd.  Below are 5 options to be voted upon, the vote ticker is on the upper right corner of this page.  Vote and the winning song will be sung on Friday, October 15, at Festa Karaoke bar in Japantown, SF, CA, USA by me.  Maybe someone will record it and we'll post it here the following week.

The options:

1. "Love Story" by Taylor Swift
• A romantic classic, Swift captures the attention of love birds and tweens alike.  Her very real and impassioned lyrics (Romeo save me I've been feeling so alone/ I keep waiting for you but you never come) will have you crying, smiling, laughing, and crying again all in the course of a single song.  Ballad-ed by a gangly 6'5" guy will only heighten this emotional event.
2. "I Belive in a Thing Called Love" by The Darkness
• High notes, Sea World clapping, and an eighties vibe: why wouldn't this song be an option?  This power ballad is always an audience favorite as it involves them.  Call and response is a guarantee for karaoke success and a surefire way to bring down the Japanese house.  
3. "Escape (Escapar)" by Enrique Iglesias
• A song that can only be sung from a place of pure love, Enrique captures the essence of what Mark Zuckerberg was going for with The Book: You can run you can hide but you can't escape my love.  Combined with expert interpretive dance, this is a song fit for a white guy to bring out his inner latino.
4. "Mack the Knife" by Bobby Darin
• A classic song that builds to a stunning crescendo likely to keep Japantown reeling for weeks.  Epitomizing cool and oozing with suave, this is for the performer's performer.  Bobby Darin would be proud to be on this list but never let you know it.
5. Other
• This is to be selected by you, the voter.  Submit your "Song's to Be Sung by Adam" in the comments below and, should your selection pick up enough steam, your song could be sung on Friday, 10/15 at the karaoke bar.

America's Pastime Shines in Autumn

America has it's flaws.  We have a makeshift economy, divisive political lines, crumbling health, and failing education.  We buy things we can't afford and eat things we don't need.  America is great, but it ain't perfect.

Our pastime, baseball, sure ain't perfect either.  There's steroids and too many games and a diluted talent pool.  Baseball just isn't as compelling as it once was.

But then the leaves change and the air grows crisp.  We widdle the league down to eight teams and four weeks.  October baseball is where fifth starters become legends and Mendoza hitting shortstops create stories we'll tell our grandchildren.

I could sit here and try my best to write something dripping with beauty and romanticism to try and capture the magnitude and excitement of playoff baseball, but I couldn't do it justice.  Instead, I'll give you the best baseball prose I have ever read.  It was written by Jeff MacGregor.  Enjoy.

Here's the link: http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/commentary/news/story?page=macgregor/100712

The Monday Roast: Cyclists' Excuses

1.  You sleep in a hyperbaric chamber and train in a wind tunnel but you "accidentally ingested an illegal substance?"  Boom, roasted.

2.  Everyone assumes you're on drugs anyway, so quit wasting our time.  Boom, roasted.

3.  Now you all will be synonymous with Floyd "The creepiest effing excuse maker ever" Landis.  Boom, roasted.

4.  Unless there is a one-nut American battling back from cancer and backed by a ubiquitous Nike marketing campaign, you're irrelevant.  Boom, roasted.

5.  There's more money in baseball and the powers-that-be care far less.  Boom, roasted.

Borrowed NYT Title: What Is It About 20-Somethings?

Much has been made of the twenty-somethings and what’s happening with this Gen-Y/millennial group.  It’s been said that we are entitled, narcissistic, worldly, jobless, educated, overqualified, and under-motivated.  We’re growing up later, putting off financial independence - and perhaps independence in general – living with mom and dad, traveling, and not marrying.  Sociologists have suggested a new growth stage, emerging adolescence, to be respected and recognized for today’s twenty-somethings.  The millennial generation is not the baby boomer generation.

I am a millennial and it was never more evident than in a recent DVD fiasco.

About one month ago I rented a movie, The Informant!  This is a boring movie and a waste of Matt Damon’s talent and your time.  Don’t bother.  The film is irrelevant to this generational tale.

I’d rented the movie on a Friday evening from Le Video on 9^th Avenue and Lincoln.  I do not have a NetFlix account.  Post-watching, I wasn’t sure whether to return the DVD to its case or leave it in the player.  I awkwardly opened the DVD player, took out the DVD, then put it back into the what-I-assumed-to-be-functioning-player; a strange sequence, yes, but a safe holding place.  Or so I thought.

I drove Rose, my movie accompanying friend, home and thought nothing of the movie until Tuesday when I rented more movies.  I wanted to return The Informant! and pickup some better flicks.  But, The Informant! was nowhere to be found.  For the next six days – as the due date came and went – I searched high-and-low for that damn DVD.  It wasn’t even a good movie and because I rented it from a local and indie movie house, I was on the hook for an arm and a leg if I couldn’t find it.  I even resorted to passively accusing Rose of theft.  For that Rose, I apologize.

But seriously, where could that DVD have gone?  

Finally, in a flurry of desperation and as a half-joke, I grabbed a screwdriver, dramatically unplugged the DVD player and performed open player surgery.  With the parts and screws of the DVD player tossed about my living room, I slowly slid the top of the player off the device, fearful of what I might find.  Low and behold, pinned under an I-don’t-know-what, sat The Informant!  Son-of-a-bitch.

You might be thinking to yourself, “What the hell does this have to do with millenials or emerging adolescence?  It’s a god damn DVD Adam.  Get a grip.”  

NetFlix.

NetFlix is the ultimate millennial tool.  It is Gen-Y.  It’s non-commital, cheap, internet based, completely personalized, and on-demand.  It’s created for us except one fatal flaw: a permanent address.  I do not have a NetFlix account because I’ve known the address of only one of seven places I have lived in over the last three years.  No complaints.  It’s just my path; but because of this path I have not been able to reap the sweet fruit of the NetFlix tree: streaming video, queues, prepaid postage, and no late fees. 

No late fees.

How much money in late fees have we transient millenials accumulated?  Likely upwards of one-gabillion dollars but I won’t venture to speculate.  It’s a lot.  But as any given one of us – millennial or otherwise – works to make his or her mark in this ginormous, beautiful, fucked-up, wonderful world, may we strive to find harmonious balance in a little red envelope.

So now, with a façade of stability and a permanent address I can call my own (I even have it memorized), I will be getting my own NetFlix account.  It’s exhilarating and terrifying, mind-blowing and simplistic.

 

Such is growing up.

An Open Letter to San Diego

Dear San Diego,

Your weather is sublime and everyone knows it.  Every morning I hear the weather report: "Cloudy in the morning, giving way to sunshine by midday, high in the mid seventies."  Sometimes it's a bit cooler, maybe a little warmer, and sometimes it stays cloudy; but no one actively checks the weather because it's the same every day: mostly nice, and awesome at times.

San Diego, your citizens take great pride in their weather.  No one swims when the water is cold, no one goes to the beach if it's not a perfect beach day.  And why would they?  After all, the water will probably be warmer tomorrow, and tomorrow will probably be a perfect beach day.  There is no need for one to make themselves uncomfortable on account of less than perfect weather, because perfect weather is always just around the corner.  No wonder you are one of the most desirable places to live.

But San Diego, your citizens truly flip out when the weather changes--even if just for a day. 

Yesterday you were hot.  To be fair, you were not just hot relative to your norm.  You were truly fry an egg on the sidewalk, melt in your car, 100 degrees, desert hot.  This was cause for alarm among your citizens.    People treated your temperature like the End of Days--they didn't even want to leave the office for lunch if it meant leaving the safe harbor of air conditioning.  This was the day to end all days:

"You remember that day back in 2010 when it was hot?"

"Boy do I!  I was sweating when I was outside, even though I was wearing shorts!"

"I know, I went for a swim, even though the water was only 65 degrees!"

I'm not surprised San Diego.  You treat your citizens to the most temperate weather in all the land and they expect nothing less.  They are not impressed with a partly sunny 80 degree day--in fact that may be too hot.  They care not for a mostly sunny 68 degree day--nothing special.  But you crank the heat one one day out of three-hundred-and-sixty-five and your citizens are appalled; and when it rains... "OH THE HUMANITY!"

But I understand.  If you never consider the weather a cause for discomfort, or even mild annoyance, then a 100 degree day will blow your mind farther than some Maui Wowi.  But what I don't understand is that today--when the temperature returned to a balmy 78 degrees--your citizens weren't  happy or thankful, they were placated. 

No hard feelings San Diegans, but given that your winter sport is surfing, and the "no shirt, no shoes, no service" signs don't apply to you, complaints about just one uncomfortably hot day might fall on deaf ears.  I enjoy your weather as much as the next, but I spent the last seven years of my life in places where the first nice sunny day in spring is cause for celebration and impromptu "sick days."  Moreover, I grew up in the desert where 100-degree days are what's going on during the summer.  So get over it, it's not that bad.

My advice would would be to take the next 100-degree day to give thanks for the fact that it's just one day, and remember tomorrow the weather will be mostly nice, and awesome at times.

Sincerely,

B.H. Homer

The Monday Roast: Smart Cars

1.  Why would I buy half a car for the price of one?  Boom, roasted.

2.  If you drive your Porsche to work and drive your smart car to buy groceries then you're not making a difference.  Boom, roasted.

3.  Global warming sucks, but so does being hit by a truck while you're driving your golf cart.  Boom, roasted.

4.  Maybe if flowers and trees came out of the exhaust pipe--like the Prius--your sales would be better.  Boom, roasted.

5.  Since when is driving a shoe box smart?  Boom, roasted.

Yeah, I foresee a good weekend

Foresight is a great thing.  Just ask Steve Jobs, George Lucas, or Bernie Madoff.  Well scratch the third one, but nonetheless, the ability to see ahead of the curve is a lucrative and successful talent.  

Don't you effing do it Wildcats.  I swear to god you overlook these Cal Bears and I'm gonna be pissed.

In the meantime, I am going to look ahead to the Vampire Weekend concert which I will have the foresight to go ahead and say is going to be epic at the Greek Theater in Berkeley.  That's me Saturday night.

As the sequel to Oliver Stone's 1987 money hungry dialogue "Wall Street" is set to open this weekend, I will steal a line from that: Greed is good.  Yes, indeed.  It's good to be greedy for good concerts and Wildcat W's.  I'll run with that.

Disorganized, abstract, reaching post anyone?  Enjoy.

If I Were Mike Stoops....

This is what I'd say at Thursday's practice:


Bring it in fellas.  Bring it in tight.  I want you to hear this.

Congratulations on beating the Iowa Hawkeyes.  That was a top-10 team coming off a BCS Bowl game season with a staunch defense and a helluva running game.  They racked up 29 rushing yards on you gentlemen.  Be proud of yourselves. 

And that was an impressive sequence of offense and defense to close that game out.  I called it a "program drive" to win the ballgame.  You know what that means?  It means we know we're winners now.  We couldn't do that against Cal or Oregon last year.  We know we can today.

I know that we can throw a game tying pick six and block the extra point.  I know that we can come out, crowd rambunctious, cameras rolling, and put the #9 team in the country in a 14-0 hole.  I know that we can muff punts and drop passes, but still secure the game winner a play later.  And I know, with the game on the line, we can get to the quarterback...three.  straight.  times.

I also know that the game's over.  And that we did get picked late, and muffed punts, and dropped passes.  I know that we were penalized twelve times for 103 yards.  That's not OK.

And you know who doesn't give two shits about you beating Iowa?  The California Bears.

Hell they just lost to Nevada.  Ya think they're a little pissed off?  I know they're a lot pissed off and they want to beat you.  We are the hunted now gentlemen.  The talking heads of ESPN and all the rest don't want to stop talking about the little program that could out of Tucson, Arizona.  

Well do you want to be yesterday's news or do you want to win?  Do you want to go to the Hyundai Sun bowl?  How about the Valero Alamo Bowl?

I don't know about you, but I'm not much for Korean cars or gasoline companies.

Call me sissy or whatever you will, but I like Roses gentlemen.  Big, red, Pasadena Roses.

Now let's get to work.

 

The Monday Roast: That Guy

1. Who just cut me off in a hyper-financed German car?  Boom, roasted.
2. Who's that wearing two popped collars?  Boom, roasted.
3. Who boasts they don't drink soda due to the sugar content then boasts about the 30-rack they just took down alone?  Boom, roasted.
4. Who just looked at his bicep in the gym?  Boom, roasted.
5. Who's got a strategically cropped FaceBook pic?  Boom, roasted.
   

Arizona/Iowa: A Big Game for Program, Town and Team

Let's get one thing straight: by the end of the year Saturday's game doesn't figure to significantly impact season goals for this Wildcat football team.  There are two goals for this team: 1) Win the Pac-10 2) Beat ASU--Saturday will not come to bear on either goal.  However, make no mistake: Saturday's showdown with Iowa is a BIG effing game.

Any time you welcome a top ten team into your house it's a big game, but this game has added importance for Arizona.  These type of games build programs, buoy recruiting, and make money.  ESPN is in the house.  The students are in town.  The old stadium will be sold out, and even apathetic Tucson football fans have pulled their heads out of the sand to take a look.  The electricity in the air is palpable, but excitement among Wildcat fans is still gently guarded by years of "almost" and "not quite enough."  A win tomorrow and fans will let their guards down, fasten their bandwagon seat belts, cross their fingers, and think Pasadena.

Can't you just imagine the scene already?

The UA Mall will be jammed full of alumni, students, and Tucsonans all decked out in red, hours before the game.  Strangers on University Ave will be high fivin' and screaming bear down.  Old college friends will fly into town to rendezvous at their old stomping grounds and revel in the on campus fervor.   The student section will be shaking the entire eastern side of the stadium with red pom poms.  Prominent former basketball players and football players will be on the field (Channing Frye, Damon Stoudamire, and Joe McLean are in town--I bet that list grows).  People are going to turn out in droves to celebrate Arizona.

So will Arizona seize the moment?

If they do, the excitement surrounding the football program as it enters Pac-10 play will be as high as it's ever been.  Tucson will become a hostile place to play for reasons besides heat this season.  TV listings for UA games will say ABC instead of TBA.  Arizona basketball recruiting target Josiah Turner and recruiting commit Nick Johnson--visiting this weekend--will see a party that most 18-year-olds can't even dream about.  But a victory will have an impact that will ripple far beyond this season and this football team.

A victory will make a statement about how far this program has come under Mike Stoops and where it is going. This game is an opportunity for Arizona to position itself in the national conversation which hasn't happened in over a decade.  This game is a chance for a program, not just a team, to make some serious noise--so let's hear it!

The stage is set, the actors are cast, the battle lines are drawn, and the kegs are cold...

...the only thing left to do is BEAR DOWN and beat the Hawkeyes!

Just remember, stay off the field until the game is actually over.

PS: Click the Damon Stoudamire link, seriously.

The Tea Party Won a Vote This Week, Too

The people have spoken and you hate John Calipari and love Tom Edison (unanimously).  But keep in mind that the man below did just win a national championship and looks just like Kevin Spacey (doppelganger courtesy of Zack).

An Open Letter to San Francisco

Dear San Francisco,

What an amazing city you are.  The culture, sites, history, food, art, diversity; you’re an immaculate city nestled into some of the most beautiful coastline in the world.

 

Within a brief drive, any and every type of outdoor activity is accessible.  In three hours you offer skiing in Tahoe, surfing in Santa Cruz, or climbing in Yosemite; all world renowned as among the best.  Remarkable. 

Each of your neighborhoods offers an incredibly diverse cultural experience; from the Marina to the Mission, the Sunset to North Beach, you offer everything to everyone.

I have so much to see and learn from you San Francisco, thank you.  Thank you one-thousand times over.

But please, San Francisco, allow me this.  With all you have to offer, allow me to offer you this: when the thermometer hops over 73 and the sun comes out to shine on the eucalypti of the Presidio, the hills of Delores Park, and the western gate that is that glorious red bridge, San Francisco: LOSE THE JEANS AND HOODY AND MIX IN SHORTS AND FLIP FLOPS.  

In fact, I command this of you.  I cannot stand to see another North Face fleece on an 85 degree day.  Dammit that’s winter garb.  

A wise man once said, “Act like you’ve been there before.”  That is to say, we’ve all seen a nice day, act accordingly.  Yes, I understand it’s rare that this weather rolls around.  But seriously, act like you’ve been there before and do the right thing.  If we’re all pasty and white then technically no one loses, right?  If we all get burnt then it’s ok.  Fear not the sun.  Embrace it.  

And so that is what I can give to you, San Francisco: pants that end before your knees and shoes that cover just a portion of the foot.  Try it.  I beg of you.

Love,

AB

PS.  But bring a jacket.

The Monday Roast: Convenience Charges

1.  Oxymoron.  Boom, roasted.

2.  If there's only one place to buy the ticket, it's not convenience, it's the price.  Boom, roasted.

3.  The sketchy dude around the corner doesn't have a convenience charge.  He's just an undercover cop.  boom, roasted.

4.  How do you get to call scalping convenient?  Boom, roasted.

5.  What's next?  A fee to bring my baggage on an airplane - wait a second.  Boom, roasted?

Who do you LOVE more: Alexander Graham Bell or Thomas Edison

Bell

We love poking fun at all sorts of people; we love writing The Monday Roast; and we have no problem expressing disdain for various sports and public figures.  However, we don't just want to be haters, so we want to spread a little love through another poll.

Edison

We want to know which "do gooder" you all LOVE more: Alexander Graham Bell or Thomas Edison?

Cast your vote on the poll to the right, and leave your comments below.