There’s a difference between dominating and being dominant. Anyone can dominate for a moment but being dominant is something else all together. Jeremy Lin dominated for a few games. Michael Jordan was dominant. The other night Felix Hernandez proved that he’s not only capable of dominating but that he is dominant. Other players have made that jump as well but as much as it has to do with skill, it also has a lot to do with attitude.
Let’s try to break it down a little.
This is dominant:
This is not:
Not so dominant:
And just in case it still isn’t quite clear, here’s one more example.
I think that about sums it up.
A few years ago, a good friend of mine burned a handy mantra into my brain: DO WORK!
While it may sound like a simple phrase, you’d be surprised how difficult it is for some people, to actually do work, to make a difference, to turn dreams into reality. There are doers. And there are do not’ers. I like to think of myself as a doer.
And I am not alone.
In fact, the good folks at the St. Baldrick’s Foundation are constantly doing work — not just work, but good, excellent WORK — to help enrich the lives of children who suffer from cancer by devoting time and effort towards funding childhood cancer research. Outside of the US government, the St. Baldrick’s Foundation funds more in childhood cancer research grants than any other organization, and they do so through driving folks to show their support by shaving their heads.
Since 2000, over 240,000 volunteers have shown their support by shaving their heads and now the foundation is stepping up to the plate with the BaseBald campaign!
For many of us, being a kid is synonymous with little league, but for those children victimized by cancer, such a life is not guaranteed. Please take a moment to check out the BaseBald website and consider helping out in any way possible. So far, 25 teams from around the country have taken part, raising over $270,000 towards research.
If you’re really feelin’ it, find an event near you and consider a cue-ball look for a good cause. I plan on getting my head shaved on June 23 at the Irish Oak in Chicago. Besides, if it works for Michael Jordan, Brian Urlacher and Matt Holliday, I’m sure it will look good on you!
A recent study illustrated what you already knew: Nice guys really do finish last. But this should come as no surprise to anyone. People don’t usually gush about how nice Carlos Slim is or wax eloquent on Warren Buffet’s warm hugs. This also explains a bit about baseball.
The highest paid baseball player is Alex Rodriguez. It also just so happens that A-Rod is recognized as a world-class dick. Coincidence? Probably not. Same goes for Michael Jordan and the trash-talking skills that he brought along with his ridiculous game:
However, if there’s one guy who truly embodies this principle, it’s Vladimir Putin. If there’s a meaner, cockier person out there, I dare you to prove it. He gets the girl. He gets the treasure. He gets whatever he wants. Why? Because he’s Vladimir F***ing Putin, that’s why.
If you have any other questions, perhaps you’d prefer to take them up directly with Mr. Putin.
Abominable Apocryphal Deplorable Illustrious Wonder
This weekend provided some flat out taint tickling and nipple pulling excitement golf at the Masters. And…guess what….because…wait for it…. Tiger Damn Woods was in the middle of it. Shocker.
If Tiger isn’t playing, I’m not watching. If Tiger isn’t in the hunt, I’m usually running naked through the yard, among other Sunday things on my to-do list.
The thing with Tiger is it’s so rare to watch someone be the absolute best at something. Jazz-wise we have Coltrane, Armstrong, Miles, Ellington, Parker, Ornette. Once in a lifetimers. I’m not necessarily a golf fan, but I am Tiger fan. I want him to get back to just assassinating the field every weekend he plays. It brings me joy to see anyone he’s paired with pee his pants and lose his s***, or as Ralphy Wiggums would say, “I have two kinds of wet in my pants.”
It’s not about how nice he is or was to the fans, or exceptionally boring and emotionless to the media. I couldn’t care less. It’s not about his love of whooouures. And it’s not about me watching to see a devoted, faithful husband church goin family man.
I want the stone cold killa. I want him to murder people. The way he used to.
I had no problem when Michael Jordan would talk trash, or be a complete pr!ck to his teammates; because his play was legendary. His competitiveness was legendary boarding on hilariousness. “Dude, Jordan just knocked out Horace Grant in practice! He’s so competitive…” “Did you hear Michael put arsenic in Cartwright’s Cheerios to motivate him? SO COMPETITIVE…”
To me, Barry Bonds was different because he cheated the game. Big Mac (Mark McGwire) cheated the game. I loved Jose Canseco (mostly for trading card purposes) as a kid, but he cheated and ever since he retired he has been completely worthless, (other than exposing some other users).
I was a Bulls fan growing up, but I know non Bulls fans across the world that prayed that they could witness in person what M-Jeff could do on any given night. To be there transfixed on the master transforming the court, baseline to baseline, into a cathedral of windmilling-above-the-rim-artistry. Poetry in white-hot electric motion. Also, the only guy ever who could pull off a Hitler stache….
In baseball, (believe it or not), some of the worst people ever are LEGENDARY PLAYERS. Or….as I would like to dub, the Veda Pierce division, (fyi, watch the HBO miniseries Mildred Pierce. Amazing. The daughter Veda Pierce is the worst, most vile piece of filth I’ve ever encountered in a film character. Yeeshh…WOMEN are awful to each other. The things women say to their own friends is unbelievable. We’ll save this for another time.)
A short list in the V-Pierce division……..Ty Cobb, (beat up a man with no hands once), Mickey Mantle (showed up wasted to games and told young endearing fans to buzz off), Bonds (liar…liar…cheat), Jeff Kent (renowned male member), Roger Clemens (no explanation necessary), Ugueth Urbina, (not so legendary but assaulted servants unwarranted with a machete for swimming in his pool, now in jail for 20 years…) etc…..
Tiger doesn’t have a great rep with the fans, but how many times were Nicklaus and Palmer miked up and how many times did they yell at fans to shut up or trash talked or cussed up and down the course that we’ll never know about?
We don’t ask the legends to be humanitarians, nor wonderful people. We need them to be heroes of their game. Our heroes won’t always be nice. But they DO things no one else can or ever will do. Everything else is perception mixed with irrational desire for purity. The true pureness is the game played at the highest level.
That’s all I want.
And Latrell Sprewell choking P.J. Carlesimo, because don’t we all want to choke P.J. Carlesimo at some point?? I mean….he tried to play Kevin Durant at shooting guard???
As a born and bred Michigander, I know better than most that what goes around, comes around. The Pistons win it all a couple times in a row and then Michael Jordan comes along. Tigers go to the World Series one year and find themselves finishing behind the Royals two years later. And the Lions? Well, let’s not even start with that.
But sometimes going around and coming around can be a good thing. Griffey starts off with the Mariners and now he comes back to the Mariners. Cecil Fielder belts some home runs and now Prince Fielder (occasionally) does the same. However, I think I found something that epitomizes the upside of what goes around, comes around.
Happy Friday! Hope I didn’t just blow your mind.
-Video via The Daily Dish
If you read the newspaper or watch the evening news or leave your house every day, you might find the above statement to be true.
Ironically, it is true. Because whether we like it or not, we are all going to die; however, I personally like to think it won’t happen to me until I’m around 90 years old, gripping a cold one while I overexert myself with my 20-something year old gold-digger.
And I’m cool with that.
What I am not cool with is the tense and terse escalation of fear-mongering which has replaced logic and common sense among those who “inform” us on the world’s goings-on. Admittedly, some problems are bigger than others. I ain’t no fool. I get it. But since I am willing, able and sober (for now), allow me to mend some of these major issues with some easy fixins’…
THE PROBLEM: Mexico’s Exploding Drug Violence
THE SOLUTION: Carlos Lee
It’s easy. Hand El Caballo an AK-47. Give him immunity. Let him go to work.
I know, I know. Carlos is Panamanian, not Mexican. Doesn’t matter. He speaks the language, he’s scarier than Dick Cheney on a hunting trip and he plays for the Astros (meaning he’s expendable). Indeed, I had the pleasure of meeting El Caballo as he was getting on the Astros’ team bus after a game at Wrigley a couple of years ago and while the man is only 6’2, he has to be the most behemoth of a human being I have ever encountered in real life. He’s listed at 235 lbs., but that is a stone cold lie. He looks like he ate my entire family for lunch and I have a huge family. Anyone who can devour me and my six sisters has the inner wrath and tenacity it would take to bring down Mexican drug lords galore. ¡Venga, Carlito! ¡Ya basta! ¡Venga, venga!
THE PROBLEM: World Financial Crisis
THE SOLUTION: Pittsburgh Pirates, Kansas City Royals, San Diego Padres
Assemble the wealthiest 1% of people in the world. Force them to put their money into global markets equally, thus spreading the love, injecting life, creating confidence. If they do not follow this direction, simply hand them ownership to the Pirates, Royals and Padres and watch them die a slow, meaningless death.
THE PROBLEM: Chicago’s Intra-City Turf War
THE SOLUTION: Shut Milton Bradley’s Trap
For a guy who has the meaty reputation of being an unadulterated ^sshole everywhere he goes playing for a team that hasn’t won a World Series in 101 years, Milton Bradley sure does a lot of incessant yapping. Uh, Milton, didn’t you get the memo from Ryan Dempster and Ronny Cedeno? Yeah, they’ve been there, done that. Their feet ended up in their mouths. Yours probably will too.
‘Cuz no matter how good the Cubs are on paper, Milton, no matter how good they should be this season, no matter how many knowledgeable baseball folks pick you guys to go all the way, at the end of the day, Milton, you play for a loser. A LOSER. In fact, they are the only professional baseball team nicknamed the “Lovable Losers”, Milton. Yes. That’s true.
You want to talk about Chicago winners, Milton? Since Jordan & Co. left town, the White Sox are it, buddy.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Yes, I was. Yes, he did. Go crazy, folks! Go crazy!
As my friend, Mr. Lung, mentioned yesterday, I was indeed present at the inauguration of our 44th President, Barack Hussein Obama. And honestly, the only way I can describe the event is by comparing it to an early (or possibly late, although I have no experience with that) season baseball game. You know the kind of game I’m talking about, where you think you’re wearing plenty of layers but you figure out 30 minutes into it that you will never be warm again. But at the same time, you don’t care about a couple of numb fingers and toes because moments like this don’t come along every day.
Even now, I’m trying to sort through all the emotions that come along with an occasion like this. Of course there’s pride in knowing that for all our faults as a nation we always find a way to overcome them. And there’s hope, echoed in the words of the inaugural address, “Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.” There’s also a little bit of uncertainty because, let’s face it, these are not easy times in which we live and, as the President said, we all share in a “collective failure to make hard choices.”
But I guess what I feel most of all right now is relief. Relief that the unwashed hordes will soon leave my city. Relief that almost all disasters were averted. And relief that the stewardship of the country has passed into the hands of President Obama and his team.
At the same time, there were also events that left me conflicted. I freely admit that I am no fan of former President Bush and I’m sure I’ve written many scathing criticisms of him in these pages. But, the man was still our democratically elected President and because of that he deserves respect. Perhaps his opinions and his decisions don’t always deserve respect but the man and the office do. That’s why it left me a little unsettled today to hear people booing whenever President Bush’s face was shown on the screens. I understand the atmosphere and I understand the strong feelings. But, even if the inauguration felt like a sporting event and even if President Obama is the Michael Jordan of politics, there’s no excuse for booing his competition.
So, there you have my initial, unvarnished thoughts. And I’ll bring you more along with a roundup of the absolutely ridiculous coronation, uh, I mean concert I attended on Sunday.