The Super Bowl serves as an excellent signpost for the “we’re almost there” point of the MLB offseason. Once the big game is over, I know it’s only a matter of days before pitchers and catchers report to spring training and some real baseball action presents itself. This is a good thing, particularly this year, because I am running out of episodes of Glee (don’t judge) and Breaking Bad to watch, and the Bulls don’t play every single day.
I wish they did!
In fact, this year, the NBA has done a fine job of keeping my attention. After a 10 year hiatus, all it took for me to care about the league again was a universal villain in the Miami Scheme Team paired with a plethora of explosive, young talent (Derrick Rose, Kevin Durant, Chris Paul, Blake Griffin, Russell Westbrook, etc.). It still doesn’t compare to the sensational grind of 162, but the kind of drama that creeps out of this modern NBA is as close to the old World Wrestling Federation as one can find in any legitimate league.
And, of course, there’s always this:
I know it’s Hydrox cookies in place of Oreos, but until the Oreo season gets started again, the Hyrdox highlights are taming my appetite for excitement.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
While some major sports leagues have actively sought parity, others have decided to content themselves with a talent and success gap that keeps getting greater all the time. At the American club level (i.e. MLB), baseball has seen fit to follow this approach. Sure, teams like the Pirates may threaten for a short period but ultimately these kind of calls go against them and the season quickly follows.
This disparity also exists on the global level but it tends to work in our favor a lot of the time. Sure, we don’t have a monopoly on the baseball talent and we’re sorely lacking when it comes to soccer. But if you want to see true inequality, consider basketball.
Let me lay it out in more concrete terms. Here are the national teams from Bahrain and Kuwait playing a recent match:
Aside from an almost supernatural ability to instantly turn into an unwieldy mob, there’s not a whole lot of talent there.
Now, take Derrick Rose:
I’m pretty sure D-Rose could take on either of those teams by himself and come away with a W. I also think there’s only one thing left to say here. USA! USA! USA!
Tracy Tzu: You’re acting like a child.
Stanley White: Well, a great man is one who in manhood still keeps the heart of a child.
There’s no baseball till Thursday. At all. Do not tell me there is. YOU CANNOT DISSUADE ME.
So this week I thought I’d let you kids know what has been filling the void in my life and I’m sure without a doubt you WANT to know this crap because everything is about ME.
Year of the Dragon. This is when Mickey Rourke was absolutely killin it in the mid-eighties and was on his way to becoming the next Marlon Brando. He’s volatile, violent, smooth, exasperating, and so un-George Clooney that real men felt they could be him. After this film, he had a bad boxing career, messed up his face, had multiple plastic surgeries and started living in a closet with his poodle before eventually reinventing himself. If he had died when he was 30 (and I’m shocked that he didn’t) he’d be mentioned in the same breath as Hendrix, Morrison, and Cobain.
Film Score that hurts it’s so good:
Either watch Vertigo or just check this Bernard Hermann link. Between Jimmy Stewart’s obsessiveness and the awesome direction of Hitchcock, the music from this movie makes me weep like when I watch a Derrick Rose crossover. It goes from wispy to dramatically sad to the most desperate feeling music could ever make you feel.
Watch Lombardi on HBO. As a Bears fan, spending and hour and a half focusing on a Green Bay legend was a little surreal, but it was so good I was swept up in the majesty of his greatness. He was also a genuinely well-liked guy. I would have put on a jock strap for the skipper. Or is it gipper?
QUESO FUNDIDO WITH CHORIZO. This stuff is unbelievable and I get it mostly at El Cid in Chicago or Arturo’s Tacos. Hot gooey cheese and meat you slather on tortilla chips. Eat it fast or else it turns into playdough.
Sea Salt Brownies from Trader Joe’s. They won’t make it home. At least not all of them. I’m not a sweets guy but these are so good I’d submit to the true death True Blood style if its my last meal.
Casey Anthony is not hot, but I’d probably do some shots with her.
So that’s what I did so far this week because there’s NO BASEBALL!!! I mean Jeffy and I still watched the fake game that decides the fate for home court advantage in the Super Bowl but that’s just because we like to snuggle and eat salty brownies.
If you had to choose between watching the Heat and the Mavericks in the NBA Finals or the Cubs and the Pirates playing a mid-week series, what would you choose?
Hold on a second here, Henry. I know where you’re going with this and believe me, the old me would high-five you, pat you on the back for representin’ the greatest game on earth and laugh in the face of all those suckas entranced by David Stern’s tamed down version of the WWE. The problem is, a funny thing happened to me during the baseball offseason, and now I too can be considered a cog in the NBA machine.
This is not a bad thing!
To me, baseball still sits atop the professional sports world. It simply can’t be beat. If you are looking for an exact explanation as to why I feel this way, just check the over 1100+ posts in our RSBS back catalogue, consider my socially-backwards tendencies of staying home on Friday and Saturday nights so I can watch five straight hours of baseball undisturbed and you should be drunk with the RSBS brand of baseball championing.
But there’s something subtly intoxicating about the NBA this year too, from the LeBron disaster to the fall of the Lakers to the bright futures of Westbrook, Rose and Durant… I mean, watching those guys drive to the hoop over 7 foot monsters is pretty close to watching a suicide squeeze late in a tight ballgame. And I can appreciate this electrifying comparison — finally, after a self-imposed decade long hiatus from basketball fandom — because this year I had my very own private NBA tutor walk me through what I have missed (the storylines, the heroics, the defeats — it’s all very soap opera-ish), to explain what “pick and pop” means, to show me the entire floor for a full understanding of the sport.
So to answer your question, Henry… I will be watching Heat/Magic on Tuesday. You bet. I wouldn’t miss Dirklicious schoolin’ the most hated man in all of sports. Of course, I’ll be watching it! But, like all the other games before it, I will be watching with one caveat: that my laptop is running four live baseball games and my finger is set to scroll my MLB Extra Innings package during all commercial breaks.
Who said a man can’t have his cake and eat it too?
IMA GIT ME SOME CAKE!!!
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Dickensian Asylum, One Good Player, Bad Paper. Little to Make Me Excite.
The Cubs, for me, are pushing the human existence backwards and making hearts sad.
Another season is already bogging me down.
I was watching the Rockies kill/drub/maim the Cubs on Sunday (the same expansion team that has already been to a World Series, and, like the Marlins teams that have won two so far, also have exciting young talent despite playing in a small market) I couldn’t change the channel back to the NBA playoffs fast enough.
My beloved Bulls and D. Rose are the only things keeping me breathing.
With the Cubs, it’s not so much the bad baseball and the lack of power, but mostly just the fact that they’re boring and unsatisfying. I think I’d rather watch a touring band of angry flying Arabs and Mexicans on ice. Then you’d have something! Or just So Taguchi.
Starlin Castro might be the best player in Chicago, and some hope exists for that fact alone, but with all the bad contracts and old players getting older, I must face the music now: the Cubs can’t compete for baseball immortality by winning the World Series for at least another 2-4 YEARS. I guess that’s not the end of the world given the century mark came and went.
But, it still blows.
I had a birthday recently and time moves faster now. When I was 15 I thought I’d never be 25, but that happened. Then I knew I had forever til 30. Then… that happened.
The Cubs last had a real chance of winning it all three years ago. Swept by the Dodgers and feeling and hurting and poopooing and getting raped way too much like when they were swept the year before. Look, this isn’t 1500 words about how much pain I’ve endured in my life being a Cubs fan. This is about “I know they’re not great and won’t be for a while but please let them just. be. fun……”
They play station-to-station baseball, have very little power and carry a distinct lack of personality (the personality I get from Carlos Zambrano I don’t need so much). So in essence, they’re a slow team that can’t hit bombs and are extremely boring. On a daily basis. GUHHH…… HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE??
The one thing to rely on (we thought) was decent starting pitching. Currently the Cubs have the least amount of quality starts in baseball.
For the love of god, if you’re going to suck, at least be fun! I mean be like fun bad!!?? Like when the Bears are bad you’ll at least have a good time watching Devin Hester returning kicks or Jay Cutler throwing it all over the field or Lovie Smith waking up once in a while to say something to our lesbian-looking offensive coordinator Michael Martz in a roller coaster train wreck loss. That can be fun!
The Cubs were terrible ten years ago but Sammy Sosa at least was exalting the baseball gods with soaring rips into the bleachers completely unaided by anabolic substances of any kind. Seriously. This is true. He told me. When Kerry wood pitched, grown men wept, women went into early labor, George Bush liked black people, and I thought Creed had potential as a legitimate artistic talent. Dusty Baker gave verbose speeches of the utmost linguistic integrity, dripping with so much backwoods gibberish that I hung on his every word and swooned with how a man so simple could speak so eloquently…
“It’s called hitting, and it ain’t called walking. Do you ever see the top 10 walking? You see top 10 batting average. A lot of those top 10 do walk.”
“When you first come up, you want to get some hits”
“Peoples have been trying to bring me down. That’s OK, that’s how it is. Actually, that makes me stronger. It’s OK. What are you going to say when I kick somebody’s butt?”
When I first moved to Chicago, going to Wrigley was a cathartic experience. Finally, I could go to games whenever I wanted, which was something I remember dreaming of when I was just a pup watching with Grandpa every Saturday on WGN with Stone and Harry. After watching the game with Grandpa, I would immediately run outside to field tennis balls off the concrete stairs, pretending I was Shawon Dunston.
I don’t have great memories of Wrigley anymore. Just heartache and a wanton desire for greatness. The fond memories I have of the Cubs are really just afternoons hangin with Grandpa. That’s what I miss.
Now it’s just pain.
And again, I’d see a priest but I’m still good looking enough that he might try to do odd things to me.
The Cubs may lose this season but for the love of god…. give me excite!!
And while his latest project may be getting Jake Peavy to respect his own body (regarding injury, not that Jesusy “your body is a temple” stuff), we should all certainly stop to thank the baseball gods that, despite his busy schedule, Ozzie still has time to tweet.
It’s just that… sometimes, his tweets… they’re not easy to comprehend. And that’s where RSBS and our faithful interns get to work!
Let us enter the interwebs to analyze some of Ozzie’s latest…
My dog dh needs a gf he want to be charlie sheen he is desperate lol
March 3, 2011
Translation: I think it’d be funny if my dog did a bunch of coke, assaulted hookers and got fired from the best job in television, ‘cuz let’s face it: self-destruction is hilarious.
Very nice day off great golf 89 finnaly play good any cuestion ask oney lol yesssss
March 15, 2011
Translation: Punctuation? Spelling? I don’t need no stinking punctuation or spelling! Ask one of my delinquent sons!
Nice shot james lol
February 24, 2011
Translation: Bet you wish you had a Derrick Rose, right, LeBron?!?! (this tweet came during one of the Bulls’ three victories over the Heat — right after LeBron threw up a humiliating BRICK towards the end of the game.)
Folks, this is but a small sampling of the logorrheic ramblings Ozzie spews on a daily basis, which is definitely cause to celebrate technocracy. Just imagine if Earl Weaver had a twitter… oh boy.
Hate me, I don’t care. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
And so in this Podcast brought to you by Lifestyles…
The proverbial (and literal) gloves come off in this verbal masquerade of utter ridiculousness and yes, injuries do occur (though mostly to Johanna and, since they are mental in nature, hardly noticed). Among the topics of conversation one will find: Jeff’s wandering Forever 21 eyes, Zack Greinke’s ribs, the difference between a half and a full nelson, Cameroonian baseball, Bud Selig-bashing take 47 and much, much more… all to make you smile, laugh and play!
– – –
Subscribe to the RSBS Podcast by clicking *HERE*
Subscribe via iTunes by clicking *HERE*
*Special thanks to our PodMaster Keith Carmack. Keith is all over the interwebz killin’ it. You should definitely check out his crew and their subsequently hilarious podcast at Undercard Films. And keep your eye out for what’s next. Dude’s makin’ a movie!
– – –
Recorded Saturday, March 12, 2011