I won't lie to you, I follow my heart.
I've got a mind that gets me into all kinds of trouble sure, but the real trouble, that comes from the heart. The issues are too many to list. Let's just say that in all areas of my life, I am a romantic. Most of the time, at the cost of common sense.
On this holiday loathed by men everywhere and loved by all women, my heart is again aching. The pain is agonizing. It's out of my control.
It has nothing to do with relationships.
The Atlanta Braves are in the mix to sign Ken Griffey, Junior.
Say it ain't so, Kid!
As a lifelong, mostly obsessive fan of Junior's and an equally lifelong hater of the Braves, I would like nothing more than for Bobby Cox's squad to fall off the face of the earth while Griff signs on with the Mariners and magically puts up 35 and 100 en route to World Series MVP.
It'll be just like the Kingdome days. Hip Hop Hoo RAYYYYY! HOOOOOOOO! HAYYYYYY! HOOOO! We'll all party like it's 1995 and Naughty by Nature will release a new album.
In reality, my heart will dictate that no matter where Griffey goes, I will have to love it. I will root for the Braves if I have to. It hurts to even think about it.
Since I can remember I was forced by Ted Turner to watch the Braves and nothing but the Braves. I could strangle the announcers. Dale Murphy, Tom Glavine, Greg Maddux, Dave Justice, Salty, Andrew and Chipper Jones and the Tomahawk Chop all make me violently ill. I am not and never was Fonda Jane.
Even though Turner doesn't own the Braves and they aren't force fed to the nation any longer, it just hurts. But the Braves do have a shot at the postseason, so that would take the sting away somewhat. Man, love stinks. Trading pain for gain?
Just yesterday I was loving the press coverage Griffey was getting here under the needle (both front page banners!). The reunion was on. I was planning a spring training stop in Peoria and envisioning the naysayers choking on Griffey's Louisville Slugger after another sweet swing, and here I am today floored by the news he might sleep with Atlanta.
Cheater!
Jesus, it is like a relationship! How many of us have had that crush on someone that considers us firmly and forever in the friend zone? You know, the one that has no idea you even have feelings for them and they act independent of you and totally irk you just by being?
Please hear me Ken. Please. Please, please, please don't go to the Braves.
My heart would heal, but the scars would never leave.
Speaking of leaving, I left the blog world for a year. It's been stressful out here. There have been many events since I last wrote that just took over my life. No longer. I've got some catching up to do.
Since I seem to be the only one reading these posts, I'll be catching up with myself for the next few weeks with blogs concerning the year prior and the future of man. I hope I don't bore myself.
Go buy your mom some flowers, take a trip to the old folks home and dance with some ladies and have a great Valentine's Day people!
About Me
- samcam
- Seattle, WA
- I looked at everything and felt fine with it. You know, at peace. Not that everything was perfect. But it was life. I was living it, and that alone felt pretty damn good. But there was more than that. Much more. An unexplainable amount of goodness more. It was all this good stuff that made it even better. Worth it. Fun.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
On This Day: Warning Signs, Fireside Chats and Carr Cashes in
It was only six years ago today that the USA started using colors to alert its residents of the terror threat level.
What a joke.
If George Orwell was still around, he'd be all over those things. Alas, he'd probably be buried by our corporate-owned media anyhow, so really what does it matter?
What I'm wondering is when they're going to have neon warning signs for our drinking water? Boy, that story really blew me away. Millions of Americans are sipping up prescription and illegal drugs with every gulp of their eight glasses of water a day, and no one seemed to think we should know about it until now?
Turns out they don't clean out all of the drug residue when they recycle our water, and tiny, tiny amounts of it reach the population. Who knows what kind of problems this has already caused? How many more will arise?
I never realized that Roger Clemens' steroids weren't just his, or that every time Daryl Strawberry was partying away the 1980s, we were too (sort of)!
I'm hoping they find a way to remove the drug residue, but who knows? Here we thought water was safe. It's our pride and freedom. It's a symbol of life, and humanity has damaged it. To what extent, we don't yet know or understand.
We could really use a father figure calming us with his friendly fireside demeanor. But would it do any good?
On March 12, 1933 Franklin D. Roosevelt gave the first of his famed fireside chats in the midst of the Great Depression.
"Good evening friends," he said. 'Trust the banks. Pass my New Deal legislation.'
Things haven't changed.
Here we are on the brink of recession after another round of irresponsible banking and I wonder what good the New Deal really did. I mean a 'broker state' is fine if you're into your government juggling the spheres of your society and organizing them by financial importance (as opposed to actual importance).
Around this time Roosevelt also ordered people to turn in their gold. It was a brilliant move on the government's part. Now, we all slave to their paper.
Speaking of paper, David Carr signed a million-dollar, one-year contract with the Super Bowl champion New York Giants.
Lucky guy. He gets to back up one of the NFL's worst quarterbacks that won't get benched any time soon. All the ex-Carolina Panther Carr has to do is study and practice and he gets the dough.
Nice. If Eli Manning goes down, he gets performance bonuses, so all of his bases are covered. For the Giants, they think they're getting a steal, and they just might be.
I hate Eli. I can't say he can't play, because obviously the guy can scramble, avoid the sack and deliver in the clutch, but I can say he is inconsistent at best. At worst, he's terrible. If the Giants can unlock the mystery that is Carr since he was drafted in the first round, he just might end up helping them.
Today's terror color? For me, it's gray. The future is unclear on many fronts.
What a joke.
If George Orwell was still around, he'd be all over those things. Alas, he'd probably be buried by our corporate-owned media anyhow, so really what does it matter?
What I'm wondering is when they're going to have neon warning signs for our drinking water? Boy, that story really blew me away. Millions of Americans are sipping up prescription and illegal drugs with every gulp of their eight glasses of water a day, and no one seemed to think we should know about it until now?
Turns out they don't clean out all of the drug residue when they recycle our water, and tiny, tiny amounts of it reach the population. Who knows what kind of problems this has already caused? How many more will arise?
I never realized that Roger Clemens' steroids weren't just his, or that every time Daryl Strawberry was partying away the 1980s, we were too (sort of)!
I'm hoping they find a way to remove the drug residue, but who knows? Here we thought water was safe. It's our pride and freedom. It's a symbol of life, and humanity has damaged it. To what extent, we don't yet know or understand.
We could really use a father figure calming us with his friendly fireside demeanor. But would it do any good?
On March 12, 1933 Franklin D. Roosevelt gave the first of his famed fireside chats in the midst of the Great Depression.
"Good evening friends," he said. 'Trust the banks. Pass my New Deal legislation.'
Things haven't changed.
Here we are on the brink of recession after another round of irresponsible banking and I wonder what good the New Deal really did. I mean a 'broker state' is fine if you're into your government juggling the spheres of your society and organizing them by financial importance (as opposed to actual importance).
Around this time Roosevelt also ordered people to turn in their gold. It was a brilliant move on the government's part. Now, we all slave to their paper.
Speaking of paper, David Carr signed a million-dollar, one-year contract with the Super Bowl champion New York Giants.
Lucky guy. He gets to back up one of the NFL's worst quarterbacks that won't get benched any time soon. All the ex-Carolina Panther Carr has to do is study and practice and he gets the dough.
Nice. If Eli Manning goes down, he gets performance bonuses, so all of his bases are covered. For the Giants, they think they're getting a steal, and they just might be.
I hate Eli. I can't say he can't play, because obviously the guy can scramble, avoid the sack and deliver in the clutch, but I can say he is inconsistent at best. At worst, he's terrible. If the Giants can unlock the mystery that is Carr since he was drafted in the first round, he just might end up helping them.
Today's terror color? For me, it's gray. The future is unclear on many fronts.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
On This Day: The Death of Chris Wallace and the End for D Wade, VCU
It was a dark day.
On March 9th, 1997 Christopher Wallace was shot and killed in a drive-bye shooting.
The loss of Biggie signaled the end of a hip-hop era and the genre was never the same. Gone were the days of lyrics. The days of cheesy, dancing beats and empty rhymes were on the horizon.
Wallace's life was a tragedy. He was a huge, larger-than-life personality spit out by the game he helped create. As far as he and the music he lived had seemed to come was as far both really fell.
The industry pushed negativity on a public that was eating it up. The responsibility of artists to make music they believed in didn't cross their minds when the money was flowing and the party was on.
It's as much a tragedy that the music didn't change after the loss of Wallace and Tupac Shakur as the losses themselves.
Throughout America, the violence persists. But, really, there's nothing we can do.
So we do sports.
They take us away from the drama. Or at least the real drama. Then again, they too, have a stake in drama.
Dwyane Wade got shelved by the Heat today. As courageous and heady a basketball player as there is, Wade fell victim to his own attacking attitude.
He doesn't lose his life.
But still, Wade has the pain and agony of surgery, recovery and rehab before he gets to give it another go next year. Have you ever had surgery? It sucks. Big time.
For his sake, hopefully he'll fall back on his jumper more often, and maybe Miami can fix the mess that is their team.
There is no fix when you don't get in the big dance.
Virginia Commonwealth's shot at an automatic bid ended Sunday. The victim of William & Mary's "Cardiac Kid's" third and final last-second miracle now has to wait to hear from the committee.
I hope they don't get in. Freeze them out like UDUB last year. Who cares about the winner of the CAA? Don't get it twisted, I really don't like Eric Maynor or the rest of the Rams, after they dropped Duke last year.
Not that I like Duke, not one bit do I like Duke, but me and gambling run into each other now and again. Usually, I end up leaving the meeting lighter in the wallet. This time was one of those times.
In summary, today I'm reminded that everyday is a gamble. You could win big, or you could lose big. Some losses are bigger than others. Some wins, meaningless.
On March 9th, 1997 Christopher Wallace was shot and killed in a drive-bye shooting.
The loss of Biggie signaled the end of a hip-hop era and the genre was never the same. Gone were the days of lyrics. The days of cheesy, dancing beats and empty rhymes were on the horizon.
Wallace's life was a tragedy. He was a huge, larger-than-life personality spit out by the game he helped create. As far as he and the music he lived had seemed to come was as far both really fell.
The industry pushed negativity on a public that was eating it up. The responsibility of artists to make music they believed in didn't cross their minds when the money was flowing and the party was on.
It's as much a tragedy that the music didn't change after the loss of Wallace and Tupac Shakur as the losses themselves.
Throughout America, the violence persists. But, really, there's nothing we can do.
So we do sports.
They take us away from the drama. Or at least the real drama. Then again, they too, have a stake in drama.
Dwyane Wade got shelved by the Heat today. As courageous and heady a basketball player as there is, Wade fell victim to his own attacking attitude.
He doesn't lose his life.
But still, Wade has the pain and agony of surgery, recovery and rehab before he gets to give it another go next year. Have you ever had surgery? It sucks. Big time.
For his sake, hopefully he'll fall back on his jumper more often, and maybe Miami can fix the mess that is their team.
There is no fix when you don't get in the big dance.
Virginia Commonwealth's shot at an automatic bid ended Sunday. The victim of William & Mary's "Cardiac Kid's" third and final last-second miracle now has to wait to hear from the committee.
I hope they don't get in. Freeze them out like UDUB last year. Who cares about the winner of the CAA? Don't get it twisted, I really don't like Eric Maynor or the rest of the Rams, after they dropped Duke last year.
Not that I like Duke, not one bit do I like Duke, but me and gambling run into each other now and again. Usually, I end up leaving the meeting lighter in the wallet. This time was one of those times.
In summary, today I'm reminded that everyday is a gamble. You could win big, or you could lose big. Some losses are bigger than others. Some wins, meaningless.
Brett Favre Takes an NFL Generation With Him
It's over, or is it?
If Brett Favre really has chucked his last off-balance, ill-advised pass down field into three defenders and an opening the size of a kicking tee while being draped by two hoggies thrice his size, somewhere there's a fat lady singing.
You can bet it's not Sonny & Cher's "I got you babe." No, the Groundhog Day that was Favre's career, is according to No. 4, over. Green Bay no longer has it's beloved, brash signal-caller. For my money, the large lady is probably busting out the Who's "I'm Free."
Wisonsinites, the NFL and football fans everywhere won't be singing along.
He gets to go home. He can go play touch football in his jeans on a farm somewhere. But we get left behind without a maverick. Football and the NFL have transformed into an American game of Roman proportions since the Atlanta Falcons decided it would be a smart idea to shop Favre. His retirement officially signifies the end of a forgotten football era.
For us left behind, we might just hear an overweight female singing a sad rendition of The Doors "The End."
But the end of what exactly?
The late 1980s through the mid 1990s were the glory days of football. It was before Spygate, before these annoying two- and three-back systems, before coaches tried to freeze kickers mid-snap and before unnecessary quarterback controversies overplayed by the vulturous media.
Remember when Joe Montana, then Steve Young passed the 49ers and Bill Walsh into the national spotlight? Jerry Rice was a superstar. He was no Randy Moss, then again he also was no Randy Moss! John Taylor, Roger Craig and Tom Rathman were studs.
How about Bo Jackson? What a player. There won't be another like him.
Barry Sanders, ditto. How many backs get the chance to carry the load anymore? The day of dizzying spin moves isn't over, but the day of devotion to one runner is.
How 'bout them Cowboys? For my money, as much as you can hate Troy and the 'boys, they weren't half the boring team Tom Brady and the Patriots are. Sure they score a lot of points, but Asante Samuel was no Deion. Laurence Maroney is surely no Emmitt Smith, and who is the Pats' Leon Lett?
Even the hapless Buffalo Bills, perennial playoff letdowns, are a type of team that won't be seen again.
Favre is not and never was an enigma. He was an above-average athlete that got to play through his personal shortcomings on the football field. It will never happen again. Never.
His records wouldn't be if he were starting today. He'd be killed by the media. Rex Grossman anybody? Give a guy a chance, he just might turn into a legend, but chances cost too much money nowadays.
How long till Tony Romo loses his starting gig? No, this is not the NFL's glory days. This is the end of them. This is when the NFL, like every other sport, over-markets its superstars (and unproven draft picks), over-hypes its games and forgets what made them great.
Favre was the underdog that always stood a chance. It was 17 years of you never knew what was coming.
This chapter of NFL history is now closed. It was glorious, and it flew by all to quickly. Adieu Brett, thanks for the memories.
If Brett Favre really has chucked his last off-balance, ill-advised pass down field into three defenders and an opening the size of a kicking tee while being draped by two hoggies thrice his size, somewhere there's a fat lady singing.
You can bet it's not Sonny & Cher's "I got you babe." No, the Groundhog Day that was Favre's career, is according to No. 4, over. Green Bay no longer has it's beloved, brash signal-caller. For my money, the large lady is probably busting out the Who's "I'm Free."
Wisonsinites, the NFL and football fans everywhere won't be singing along.
He gets to go home. He can go play touch football in his jeans on a farm somewhere. But we get left behind without a maverick. Football and the NFL have transformed into an American game of Roman proportions since the Atlanta Falcons decided it would be a smart idea to shop Favre. His retirement officially signifies the end of a forgotten football era.
For us left behind, we might just hear an overweight female singing a sad rendition of The Doors "The End."
But the end of what exactly?
The late 1980s through the mid 1990s were the glory days of football. It was before Spygate, before these annoying two- and three-back systems, before coaches tried to freeze kickers mid-snap and before unnecessary quarterback controversies overplayed by the vulturous media.
Remember when Joe Montana, then Steve Young passed the 49ers and Bill Walsh into the national spotlight? Jerry Rice was a superstar. He was no Randy Moss, then again he also was no Randy Moss! John Taylor, Roger Craig and Tom Rathman were studs.
How about Bo Jackson? What a player. There won't be another like him.
Barry Sanders, ditto. How many backs get the chance to carry the load anymore? The day of dizzying spin moves isn't over, but the day of devotion to one runner is.
How 'bout them Cowboys? For my money, as much as you can hate Troy and the 'boys, they weren't half the boring team Tom Brady and the Patriots are. Sure they score a lot of points, but Asante Samuel was no Deion. Laurence Maroney is surely no Emmitt Smith, and who is the Pats' Leon Lett?
Even the hapless Buffalo Bills, perennial playoff letdowns, are a type of team that won't be seen again.
Favre is not and never was an enigma. He was an above-average athlete that got to play through his personal shortcomings on the football field. It will never happen again. Never.
His records wouldn't be if he were starting today. He'd be killed by the media. Rex Grossman anybody? Give a guy a chance, he just might turn into a legend, but chances cost too much money nowadays.
How long till Tony Romo loses his starting gig? No, this is not the NFL's glory days. This is the end of them. This is when the NFL, like every other sport, over-markets its superstars (and unproven draft picks), over-hypes its games and forgets what made them great.
Favre was the underdog that always stood a chance. It was 17 years of you never knew what was coming.
This chapter of NFL history is now closed. It was glorious, and it flew by all to quickly. Adieu Brett, thanks for the memories.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
International Women's Day: Have Sports Gained Ground?
Today is the day women everywhere are recognized for, well, being women. It's International Women's Day (IWD).
On this day in 1884, one Susan B. Anthony addressed the U.S. House Judiciary Committee to appeal for women's voting rights. They didn't come till much later, and for years, women came together on this day for protests and marches to advance women's rights throughout America.
Women can now vote. They can do anything really. Their salaries are finally starting to creep up behind men's. They have career freedom and more and more women choose to put off childbirth every year. Stay-at-home-dads are probably at an all-time high.
But this is only in America and other developed countries. In third-world countries, the problems continue. Women are regarded as less than men, and in some cases, less than human. They lack rights, and they lack safety. Nearly 540,000 women die a year giving birth.
Yes, the world has it's major problems.
But in the U.S., have things really gotten any better? Obviously, they have, but what hasn't changed that needs to?
Today I opened both Seattle local papers and found exactly zero stories on IWD. Zero.
I couldn't believe it myself, but I half expected it. Turning on the tube, I noted three national stations showing NCAA men's basketball. Only the local FSN had the NCAA women on, despite the fact that the women are in conference tournaments and the men are just wrapping up regular-season play.
I've seen this all before.
I used to write for the University of Washington student newspaper, The Daily. I was eager to get involved in any way possible, and that way turned out to be to cover the women's basketball team. I was excited.
My excitement lasted all three seasons, but unfortunately, interest in the team never grew. Not a fifth of the people that came to watch the men, came to watch the women. In the student section, not 1/100 showed up.
I had run-ins with editors that actually said no one cares about women's basketball. I was taken aback. Which came first, I asked, the chicken or the egg? Who's going to come watch if we never feature the women? Who will care if we don't give them the opportunity to?
Maybe I'm an idealist. I think so. I really think that no one outside of the families and the athletes gives two anythings for women's sports. I don't know why, but it clearly shows that women have a lot of ground left to gain here at home even.
I've seen girls' and womens' basketball games that were more exciting than many boys' and mens' games hands down. I've seen amazing athletes that will never get the accolades of their male counterparts. If you haven't, you haven't looked.
We're all to blame. The family unit has nearly become a thing of the past and in a quest to prove their equality, many women have shunned traditional values for individual freedom. I am a supporter, but I don't think they'll ever reach their mountain top.
That doesn't mean I don't think they should try.
On this day in 1884, one Susan B. Anthony addressed the U.S. House Judiciary Committee to appeal for women's voting rights. They didn't come till much later, and for years, women came together on this day for protests and marches to advance women's rights throughout America.
Women can now vote. They can do anything really. Their salaries are finally starting to creep up behind men's. They have career freedom and more and more women choose to put off childbirth every year. Stay-at-home-dads are probably at an all-time high.
But this is only in America and other developed countries. In third-world countries, the problems continue. Women are regarded as less than men, and in some cases, less than human. They lack rights, and they lack safety. Nearly 540,000 women die a year giving birth.
Yes, the world has it's major problems.
But in the U.S., have things really gotten any better? Obviously, they have, but what hasn't changed that needs to?
Today I opened both Seattle local papers and found exactly zero stories on IWD. Zero.
I couldn't believe it myself, but I half expected it. Turning on the tube, I noted three national stations showing NCAA men's basketball. Only the local FSN had the NCAA women on, despite the fact that the women are in conference tournaments and the men are just wrapping up regular-season play.
I've seen this all before.
I used to write for the University of Washington student newspaper, The Daily. I was eager to get involved in any way possible, and that way turned out to be to cover the women's basketball team. I was excited.
My excitement lasted all three seasons, but unfortunately, interest in the team never grew. Not a fifth of the people that came to watch the men, came to watch the women. In the student section, not 1/100 showed up.
I had run-ins with editors that actually said no one cares about women's basketball. I was taken aback. Which came first, I asked, the chicken or the egg? Who's going to come watch if we never feature the women? Who will care if we don't give them the opportunity to?
Maybe I'm an idealist. I think so. I really think that no one outside of the families and the athletes gives two anythings for women's sports. I don't know why, but it clearly shows that women have a lot of ground left to gain here at home even.
I've seen girls' and womens' basketball games that were more exciting than many boys' and mens' games hands down. I've seen amazing athletes that will never get the accolades of their male counterparts. If you haven't, you haven't looked.
We're all to blame. The family unit has nearly become a thing of the past and in a quest to prove their equality, many women have shunned traditional values for individual freedom. I am a supporter, but I don't think they'll ever reach their mountain top.
That doesn't mean I don't think they should try.
Seattle Seahawks Sign Julius Jones
Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, it doesn't, it just sort of stays the same.
Julius Jones has signed with the Hawks giving them a running corps of five backs I could care less about. I thought T.J. Duckett (a clone of Leonard Weaver) was a waste of time and money, but this move really takes the cake.
Jones could be Shaun Alexander's smaller, faster twin. They both have perfected the two-yards-and-fall-upon-first-contact running style that Seattle and Dallas fans have come to detest, and for good reason.
The only way I support this move is if Seattle grabs an offensive lineman in the draft.
Jones' speed is meaningless if Mike Wahle is the only upgrade to the hoggies. He needs holes to run through people. It's like a dog at a show jumping through hoops. The puppy flies when he sees the daylight in the rings, but no daylight and the sucker just sits there.
Mo Morris has Jones' speed, and the Hawks could never capitalize on it because they could never run block.
If Jones brought anything besides what Momo brings, don't you think he would have carried more of the load in Dallas. Sure, Marion Barber is a freak, but Jones had all the carries in the world (plus a decent line in front of him) and he only managed to fall off his horse riding into the Texas sunset.
And don't give me any of this crap that he averages five more yards a carry at Quest Field because the "track is fast." Two strong performances do not a feature-back make.
So now what happens with Alexander? Who cares?
I like the guy. He's a great community member and all, but football-wise, he's done. He did Seattle proud for a couple seasons and made his money. Now we don't have to watch him fall apart in front of us, we'll leave that up to Jones.
Julius Jones has signed with the Hawks giving them a running corps of five backs I could care less about. I thought T.J. Duckett (a clone of Leonard Weaver) was a waste of time and money, but this move really takes the cake.
Jones could be Shaun Alexander's smaller, faster twin. They both have perfected the two-yards-and-fall-upon-first-contact running style that Seattle and Dallas fans have come to detest, and for good reason.
The only way I support this move is if Seattle grabs an offensive lineman in the draft.
Jones' speed is meaningless if Mike Wahle is the only upgrade to the hoggies. He needs holes to run through people. It's like a dog at a show jumping through hoops. The puppy flies when he sees the daylight in the rings, but no daylight and the sucker just sits there.
Mo Morris has Jones' speed, and the Hawks could never capitalize on it because they could never run block.
If Jones brought anything besides what Momo brings, don't you think he would have carried more of the load in Dallas. Sure, Marion Barber is a freak, but Jones had all the carries in the world (plus a decent line in front of him) and he only managed to fall off his horse riding into the Texas sunset.
And don't give me any of this crap that he averages five more yards a carry at Quest Field because the "track is fast." Two strong performances do not a feature-back make.
So now what happens with Alexander? Who cares?
I like the guy. He's a great community member and all, but football-wise, he's done. He did Seattle proud for a couple seasons and made his money. Now we don't have to watch him fall apart in front of us, we'll leave that up to Jones.
Friday, March 7, 2008
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