God exists, and He's a sports fan.

In which Young William executes an awesome idea from Even Younger Stuart (who was too busy to write this.  What's that about?)

On Friday night I received a text from Stuart that said something along the lines of "A-Rod just struck out to end the game.  Rangers win!"  He went on to discuss the various ways that this reflected the incredible karma coming back to help the Rangers and bite Rodriguez in the butt.  I can definitely respect a lot of things about the Yankees: Jeter, Girardi, Posada, Rivera, Cano, the old guard of the 90s, but one thing I can't respect is A-Rod.  This guy is the baseball version of LeBron James.  As Stuart so beautifully wrote in his email: "Great natural talent, roided, incredibly vain/metro, no competitive desire (accepted losing shortstop position to jeter just so jeter would carry him to a championship, which took 6 years anyway), douchebag, (see running across [Dallas Braden's] mound [editor's note:  this absolutely should be a big deal.  Anybody who says otherwise doesn't understand baseball.  Nobody should touch the mound except for the pitcher and the catcher/pitching coach on visits], charging mound against bronson arroyo for no reason, slapping ball out of bronson arroyo's glove for no reason [Stuart also forgot to mention A-Rod calling a ball while running around the bases in Toronto), highly paid) strikes out looking to eliminate yankees (the fucking new york yankees)"  I really can't think of any better way to describe this man in words, so we'll move into the visual realm:

This isn't even a manly hit.  A tackle would have been kind of cool, if not acceptable.  But seriously, what kind of a weenie slap is this?

I can understand self-confidence, but what is this?  Can it get any gayer?

Yes.  Yes it can.

 On the other side of the ball is the Texas Rangers organization.  Let's take a look at their past few years:

2006: Josh Hamilton is still out of baseball after leaving the game in 2004 to focus on sex, drugs, and alcohol.  Goes in and out of rehab, almost killed himself, signs with the Reds in 2007, and then with the Rangers in 2008.
2008-2009: Colby Lewis is a member of the Hiroshima Toyo Carp of the Japanese League because nobody in the MLB wanted him.  As in, zero teams.
March 17, 2010:  Sports Illustrated reports that Manager Ron Washington tested positive for cocaine during the 2009 season.  This is the cool part:  The Rangers refused to let him resign.  How great is that?  If all of the players and the organization are willing to rally around their coach despite this big of a problem, it's obvious that they're the definition of a true team.  This was their guy, and he had been for three years, and they weren't going to give up on him.
May 24, 2010:  The Rangers file for Chapter 11 Bankruptcy.  This is a bad thing.  How do they manage to win games while trying to make sure that they don't go under completely as a business?
August 4, 2010:  Nolan Ryan (and Chuck Greenberg) buys the Rangers in a public auction.  Probably the most famous Ranger of all time is now in charge of the organization.  This not only shows his loyalty, but it gives the team someone to cheer for, and fans that had drifted away a reason to come back.
October 10, 2010:  After being ahead 2-0 against the Tampa Rays, those of the best record in the American League (and only one win behind the Phillies for best record in baseball, but the Phillies don't really count because they play in the B League), the Rangers lose 5-2, at home, which sends the series back to Tampa.  Time to panic.
October 22, 2010:  After beating the Rays in the rubber match, Neftali Feliz strikes out A-Rod to win the ALCS.  Colby Lewis (see above) is the winning pitcher with an 8 inning, 7 strikeout, 3 hit performance.

Maybe the Yankees should have traded A.J. Burnett to the Carp for this guy

Add to that mix the idea that the Rangers had never even won a playoff series in the first 49 years of their existence, this: Cliff Lee's wife harassed by Yankees fans, plus the idea that Michael Young is basically the anti-A-Rod (and since A-Rod is thought to be the anti-Christ, does that mean that...?), having stuck with the Rangers through thick and thin (mostly thin), always put his team first, never demanded a huge contract, and is basically just an overall class act, and you get one of the best feel-good stories ever.  Karma finally comes around.

What about other possible beauty in the world of sports.  Where else could the underdogs finally get their chance and the frontrunners finally fall?  Stuart (and LtP) have you covered on some possible situations where balance would finally be found.

The Brett Favre Category
Brett Favre throws 3 picks and has a 50.4 passer rating in what is probably (but not really) his last trip into storied Lambeau Field and in front of the fans who he led on and the management that he blames for what can only be labeled as his arrogance and assholishness

Wait, apparently that already happened.

However, last year, well before Brett Favre threw his ironic interception against the Saints in the NFC championship, and waaaaaay before any of us knew who Jenn Sterger was or how big Favre's penis was, Stuart sent the following to Bill Simmons' mailbag over on ESPN.com

I have been watching the entire season looking for signs of this.  I've been hoping and hoping that it will happen, and it is beginning to look like it will, so here's my "Great Call of The Week:" Brett Favre will lead the Packers to the Super Bowl this year.  Think of how perfectly he has built this up.  The ugly divorce from the team that he had played almost his whole career with.  The one year in Packer fan purgatory (AKA The New York Jets), before descending to hell in Minnesota.  There would be no reason for a Packer fan to cheer for him again, he has completely crossed the line.  He has made people choose whether they are a Favre fan or a Packer fan, and contrary to what that asshole wrote a few weeks ago on Page 2, you can not be both.  What fans of either may never know is this: Brett Favre planned the whole thing.  He knew he was getting old, he knew he was unreliable, and after the loss to the Giants in his last best chance he made up his mind.  He would go to Minnesota, and win the Packers a Super Bowl there.  He, being Brett Favre, knew how the 2009 season would play out.  He knew that the seedings for the playoffs would be 1.New Orleans 2.Minnesota 3.Arizona 4.Dallas/Philly (Sorry Giants fans) 5.Green Bay 6. Dallas/Philly (Sorry once again Giants fans).  When he saw the Saints vulnerability he threw last night's game against the Cardinals, thereby locking the Vikings into the 2 seed.  He knew that the Packers would easily beat the NFC East champion in the first round, and he knew that the Cardinals would get themselves to the second round, insuring that the Vikings and Packers wouldn't meet until the NFC Championship, with the Vikings trouncing the Cardinals and Aaron Rodgers leading the Packers to the biggest NFL upset since Pats-Giants as they beat the Saints.  Then, in the climate-controlled Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome, Brett Favre planned to throw 4 interceptions, including a 5th to seal the game, before ripping off his Vikings jersey to reveal his old Packers one underneath it.  The credits would roll as Aaron Rodgers, yes, Aaron Rodgers, carried him off the field to Mike McCarthy, who would greet Favre with a heartfelt man-hug similar to Francona-Lester.  Brett would then stand on the sidelines for the Super Bowl, holding a clipboard and wearing a headset, conversing with Rodgers during timeouts, wearing his jersey no matter Goodell's fine, watching his Green Bay Packers win the NFL Championship.

Simply beautiful.  If only it would have happened.  Now it looks doubtful that both the Packers and Vikings make the playoffs, and it's possible that they'll both miss out.  But boy what a story it would be.  Brett, if you're reading this right now, at least consider it.  I'll totally forgive you for the whole asshole routine you pulled.

Oregon beats Boise State in BCS Championship while LeGarrette Blount watches from sideline
Boise State is a joke.  I understand that they beat everybody on their schedule, but they are bastardizing the system.  If Boise State had to play Big XII, Big 10, SEC, or Pac-10 teams every week, there's no way that they would be able to play as well at the end of the year as they currently do.  The wear and tear of playing starters for 60 minutes in tough football against the best teams in the nation would kick their butts.  Would they be a good team?  Yes.  Would they be Top 25?  Yes.  Would they be number 3 in the country right now?  Doubt it.  Just last week, in a conference game, Boise used three quarterbacks in a game at San Jose State.  Nobody in the power conferences has that luxury.  These guys are good, but they're not that good, which is part of what makes the following situation so intriguing.

Last year, in the first game of the season, Boise State beat Oregon fairly convincingly, and after the game, Boise linebacker Byron Hout went out of his way to taunt Oregon running back LeGarrette Blount.  After being taunted by this mediocre linebacker, Blount punched him in the face, knocking him to the ground (video here).  Blount was suspended for the season (he was later readmitted to the team after missing 10 games), while Hout, the instigator of the situation's case was "handled internally," according to Boise coach Chris Petersen.  Nobody ever really found out what Hout's punishment was, but he didn't miss any games, so the extra running or water boy duty or whatever was handed down didn't begin to approach what Oregon (not the NCAA) gave to their resident idiot.

Currently, Boise State is ranked third in the BCS, while Oregon is second.  Only Auburn is ahead of them, and they face a remaining schedule that includes Ole Miss, Georgia, Alabama, and the SEC championship game, none of which can be considered for sure wins (see what I mean about it being harder to play in a power conference?).  If Auburn does lose, there's a good chance that Oregon and Boise could rematch in the national championship.  How sweet would it be if the Ducks could pull off a victory with Blount on the sidelines, and give him the opportunity to shake both Petersen and Hout's hands after the game in the ultimate "I'm a classier dude than you" moment.  If this happens I will be the happiest man in America.  I believe that Blount deserved a suspension, but not for ten games when he was clearly not the instigator.  Hout, who was cowardly enough to approach a man, who was by himself, that he had just beaten in a game, while surrounded by his teammates, and then taunt him, definitely deserved a suspension of equal magnitude of Blount's, but instead has given the harsh treatment of what was probably a stern talking to and a few extra sprints.  Karma needs to come in.

Looks like a nice dude to me

The Miami Heat Category
Stuart also sent me the following:

• LeBron blows out knee in first game of season (sort of sadistic)

• Cavs somehow make playoffs as 8 seed, take Game 1 from Heat before losing series in horrific fashion (poetic and unrealistic)

• Cavs somehow make playoffs as 8 seed, take Heat to 7 games before losing (poetic and unrealistic) or beat them (really unrealistic)

• Dwyane Wade forces trade to any other team in NBA to prove he doesn't take easy road, beats Heat in playoffs (really unlikely)

• Bulls beat Cavs in Eastern Conference Finals with Joakim Noah blocking LeBron's shot on the final play (Noah yelled at LeBron for dancing during a victory once, Preserves 90's Bulls as greatest dynasty ever, protects Jordan's legacy, most plausible of all these situations)

What he didn't consider was the fact that the Heat would go into Larry Bird's house, Kevin McHale's house, and Bill Russell's house, three great one-team players, loyal players, all of which have championship rings (3, 3, and 11), and get their butts kicked by the Celtics.  True balance, true beauty.  God exists, and He's a sports fan.

Bros

A few weeks ago we discussed spontaneous bro time and it's many benefits, and in doing so, we talked about a number of bros that would be kept out of this type of bro time.  Now it's time to discuss all the dudes in any true bro group.  Keep in mind that while most people fall into at least one category, the truly talented are able to fall into multiple categories.

The bro that everyone pretends to hate
This is the guy who is the target of 94% of jokes, whether or not they are true, based off of the truth, or even remotely related to something that might have come close to being true, and 72% of the beatings, whether or not they are deserved.  This guy serves the vital purpose of raising the self-esteem of everybody else in the group, mostly because they're all thankful they aren't this guy, but also in the "I'm pissed off so I'm going to go home and kick the dog" sense, where, this bro is obviously the dog.  Ironically, this guy is often the best liked in the group do to his willingness to forgive.  If he wasn't willing to forgive people, he obviously wouldn't be friends with the rest of these assholes, so they all appreciate his kindness, and therefore like him the most.

The bro who doesn't understand that nobody likes him
This guy is everybody's best friend.  Except, well, he's not.  It's not that he's totally hopeless in the hunt for appreciation: he could probably find his own group of friends who shared his weird nature, but that's really not what he's looking for.  Instead, he seemingly decides to make his sole mission to ruin every bro session that you have through his awkward comments and overall presence.  The problem is not only that he doesn't realize how weird he is, but that he actually thinks that everybody else thinks he's the greatest thing since natty ice.  After every stupid thing he does he looks around for approval and high fives, and, when he sees nothing, assumes that everyone is so stunned by his brilliance that they forgot to congratulate him.  Totally understandable.  Unfortunately, one of the dudes in your group has some connection (roommate, family friend, girlfriend's roommate's boyfriend) that makes it impossible for anybody to totally go nuts on this guy, making him a permanent member of the group.

The guy who thinks he's the alpha bro
Although everybody knows that the leader of the group varies day to day, this guy is pretty sure that it doesn't.  He's very good at taking credit for things that were group decisions the minute that everybody else forgets what actually happens, so there's no way to call him out on anything.  He's also very good at suggesting ideas that have already been decided on by the consensus so that he can take credit for them later.  Oftentimes, this "alpha bro" is also found in shady situations due to his incredible ability to talk a huge game and attempt to back it up, which turns out to be impossible.  Good news though, the "alpha bro" knows that he doesn't do any of this stuff.  He just leads the little sheep-bros who understand that he is the smartest/most attractive/best bro in the world.

The one-upper bro
Sample conversation:

Bro 1: That girl was totally digging me last night
Bro 2: Those three girls were totally digging me last night
Bro 1: I'm pretty sure I got an A on that test
Bro 2: I'm positive I didn't miss an answer and if I did then the key is probably wrong
Bro 1: I've been to a Packers game
Bro 2: I totally know all of the Packers players personally

This guy can be totally normal in every other regard, but don't ever, EVER, try to compare personal accomplishments or you'll be stuck in a state of disbelief and amazement at his determination/stupidity.

The bro who isn't funny
While this often is somewhat of a rotating role among all bros depending on who is on or off on a certain night, there's always the one guy who can never quite figure it out.  Telltale lines include: "All my other friends think I'm funny" and "I don't get why you guys never laugh at my jokes."  At first, everybody wants to believe him, and some even try to laugh, but it's really hard due to the extremely low quality of this guy's sense of humor.  Eventually, however, he does get laughs, mostly because everyone else is laughing at the ridiculous way that he laughs at his own jokes, but this bro will take what he can get.

The bro who thinks he's on par with all the other bros in their specific skill sets
This guy knows, and acknowledges that he's not as good as the rest of his friends in any of their skill sets, but "I mean, I'm pretty good."  Rough translation:  "I once met somebody who had once talked to another guy who was decent at that, so I bet I could pick it up pretty quickly."  This guy is often very good at nothing, pretty good at one thing, and below average at just about everything else, but "I'm off today."  This is the guy playing pickup basketball who airballs fourteen straight 3s, banks one in off of the ceiling, and then says, "Watch out, now I'm hot."  In pure hangout situations this guy is great to have around, but once the dudes leave for activities, it's best to give this man wrong directions.

The "You wouldn't know" bro
This guy has lived a remarkable life.  Just ask him.  He'll tell you all about it.  Wait, I've done all of that stuff plus stuff that's so much cooler.  Why am I listening to this guy.  Maybe I'll point out that this stuff isn't as important as he says it is, and is actually pretty average, everyday stuff.  "Dude, I've done that too."
"Yea, but it wasn't the same.  You weren't there.  You wouldn't know.  It was incredible."
"Dude, you just talked about the burger you got from Five Guys.  I've enjoyed many a burger there myself."
"Yea, but this one (brief, unrelated sidenote: I just typed "wan" when trying to spell "one."  I feel stupid) was different"
"Oh.  Ok.  Cool."
This man is also undefeated in all video games because he turns off the console right before the clock runs out because "that obviously was a horrible call.  I deserve a re-do."

The bro you will never, ever trust with anything
This guy is an idiot, totally irresponsible, has no common sense, and is your best friend.  You'll back him up til the day you die but "no way can you borrow five bucks.  Not only will you never pay me back, there's a very good chance that you'll lose it before you can even spend it."  No hard feelings though.  This bro often understands his lack of trustworthiness, apologizes for even thinking about asking you for something and therefore jeopardizing your possessions, and immediately resumes the awesome conversation you were having beforehand.

The Wingbro
A good wingman will talk to a girl's friend for you, but a true wingbro will find out her likes and dislikes, hometown, favorite flavor of ice cream, and lucky number within a matter of seconds, making it incredibly easy for you to mack on her friend.  Like Goose, the first wingbro, this man will sacrifice the rest of his night so that you can enjoy yours.  Although not every group has a utility wingbro, bro twosomes understand that whoever finds a girl first deserves the good night, and his friend will immediately take care of business.  Studies have shown that groups of dudes with a top-notch wingbro are up to 2045 times happier than ones without wingbros.

The role model bro
Often soft spoken, this guy has just about everything going for him.  Nobody will ever admit it, but everybody secretly wants to be just like this guy.  He works the ladies, is a top-notch athlete, gets good grades with minimal work, is loved by parents, and is always able to avoid hangovers.  The worst part is that he's not even a jerk about it.  We literally have no reason to dislike him.  We should be jealous of this type of person, but we're not even mad... We're impressed!  We all do little things that this guy does in an attempt to become more like him, and even though they never work, we still try more and more just because we feel like our lives would be so much better if we could just be more like this guy.

The life of the party bro
Without this guy, weekends would suck.  His mediocre dance moves, occasional destruction of personal property, and choices of music make parties more than parties - they become events.  Sure there will be some people who will be turned off by this, but who wants weenies like them at your party anyway?  Who invited them?  Probably the bro you can never trust anything with or the bro that nobody likes, but the life of the party bro is able to come through and send them packing, leaving everybody else having an excellent time.

The ladies' bro
This guy is amazing.  He's no different from you except for the fact that he practices his smile in front of the mirror and has much bigger cajones than you do.  He is afraid of no female, and unlike the life of the party bro, actually reels them in instead of kicking them out.  Nobody really even knows what he's saying when he's whispering sweet nothings in the prettiest girl in the room's ear, and nobody bothers asking afterward either because they know that they couldn't pull it off.  He is a normal dude by day, but once he decides to work his magic, it's pretty much game over.  Nobody can resist him.

The female bro (The bra)
The bra is a rare species of woman that seems to actually be a dude in disguise.  She's funny, doesn't get grossed out by fart jokes or smelly rooms, and actually likes all of your guy friends.  Previously thought to be an urban legend, the number of reported bras in the world have increased exponentially over the last 24 years.  This girl is also the only one that is able to resist the ladies bro, although she becomes his main target simply for the thrill of the hunt.  The best part about the bra, though, is that she assumes a mom status, which every group of bros needs.  She reminds people to bathe and clean their rooms, and sometimes even bakes cookies.  For these reasons, the bra is automatically the most important member of the bro group, even if she doesn't come around very often.

These may or may not be based off of people that the Letters to Pilky staff has met in real life.  Feel free to send in suggestions for future bro categories to letterstopilky@gmail.com

Someone I want in my foxhole

One person who I have a lot of respect for is my high school baseball coach, Jeff Aldridge.  When we chose team captains, he would have us write down three guys each that we would want in our foxhole.  What he meant by that was three people that we knew we could count on if we had to make it out of a battle alive.  This meant the people that we picked weren't necessarily the ones we liked the most or who were the best players (although it was always a bonus if they did fall into these categories), but the ones who were loyal enough and valued the group enough to stay with us for better or for worse.  This is somebody that I would definitely want in my foxhole:

The Nard Dawg

I don't think I've ever met a person as loyal as Nardo.  Nardo is somebody who would do anything for any of his friends.  Whenever something seemed even slightly wrong, he'd immediately check on me to make sure I was okay.  Whenever one of us went into an uncertain situation he'd be right next to us.  He gave everybody a chance, and then he made sure that he had their back forever.  Little things like that seemed insignificant at the time, but looking back, it's amazing how much they can do and how much I value them.  Knowing that there's somebody that cares about you is a feeling that you only realize exists when it disappears. 

This man loves his friends more than just about anything in the world, which I'm sure the rest of us wish we could truly say.  No matter how much love I throw at Nardo, he always throws back more, but I guess I can still try.  If I'm ever in a foxhole I want Nardo there next to me, because I know that he'd be more willing to go down himself to get me out than to get out himself.  That's the best kind of friend and the best kind of person, and I can only hope he realizes how highly I think of him.

On this date...

We're once again going back in time to revisit some of the most important events in recent history.

On this date (October 15) in 1990...

...Ryan Murphy was born (who knew that Murph had a first name?)

Murph, always a snazzy dresser, is the cause of major excitement for #1 Notre Dame recruit Dave Acton

 Murph's story actually starts well before October 15, 1990, however.  In April of 1840, Ma and Pa Murphy decided to move from their home in the midwest to the promised land of Oregon.  They departed from Nauvoo, Illinois with $50, 193 pieces of bacon, a rifle, and 14 jars of aloe vera.  Unfortunately, Ma Murphy developed a severe case of Cholera in Casper, Wyoming, so the Murphys settled down and their descendants have lived there ever since.

Pa and Ma Murphy posing confidently before heading west.

By the time Murph dirty was born, the family had well adjusted to western life.  As a child, Murph won over 17 duals on the playground, which would have had him tarred and feathered and hogtied to the train tracks in any other town, but fortunately he shot the sheriff (he didn't shoot the deputy), and therefore was able to avoid any time in the local prison/saloon.

Murph and his right hand man, the Bandana'd Bandit

Murph gave up his outlaw ways when he enrolled in Natrona County High School.  He gave up his spurs for sneaks, and led the Mustangs to two Wyoming state basketball championships (actually a real fact), although I'm pretty sure that there were about three teams in Wyoming, and NC was the only school with at least five boys enrolled.  Still, two championships in three years isn't bad.  Murph was also named to the Knute Rockne Memorial Recreation Center All-Star team, where he led the gold squad to a 21-16 victory over a team led by That Asian Guy Who Tries Way Too Hard And Seems Like A Douche.

Murph drives against all three of Kelly Walsh's players

 Having accomplished all that he wanted to accomplish in the desperado and basketball worlds, Murph now lives a relatively quiet life, pretending to not be a crazed former murderer/point guard extraordinaire, which he pulls off quite well.  His soft spoken ways and quick wit always leave the ladies wanting more, which is exactly how he likes it.

On this date (October 17) in 1991...

...Eric Chyriwski was born.

Eric before converting to Catholicism

Eric Chyriwski is a modern day renaissance man, not only participating in many fields, but excelling at all of them from the time that he was a young man.  His athletic, academic, business, and acting careers (the jury is still out on whether or not the acting career counts) would be remarkable accomplishments by themselves, but coupled together they make for one of the most extraordinary lives of all time.

Eric also survived living with this hobo for a year

Sometimes referred to as the Danny Almonte of Long Island Lacrosse, Eric was able to play in the U12 division of the Lynbrook Lacrosse League for a record 12 years due to his small stature.  Long considered to be a legal midget, Eric was allowed to play mostly because everybody felt bad for him, but in the meantime he racked up an impressive 10,382 goals, and after retirement, immediately flipped the growth switch, growing a remarkable 3 feet in his first 2 months in college.  League officials are in the midst of an investigation as to whether this sudden growth spurt was due to HGH, and as of now, his goal record has an asterisk.

Eric leads the Mean Green Machine against the Angry Blue Dragons in LLL U12 action in 2008

After adding the extra 36 inches and 100 pounds, Eric took his talents to South Bend, where he led the interhall hockey league in penalty minutes.  Every one of Eric's penalties resulted from checks, which are illegal in the league.  This shows Eric's true stupidity irrationality courage, as he believed that taking out opponents physically and mentally was well worth the two minutes in the box.  Eric's talents don't stop there, however, as he was also a tycoon in the business world, swindling almost $95,000 dollars in funds from the Lynbrook pool's concession stand.  He followed up that performance by bribing the judges and jury in his money laundering case, allowing him to win the case and take away $30,000 of his original "earnings."  After losing it all in a game of H-O-R-S-E, a quick-thinking Eric quickly went double-or-nothing on a game of NCAA football, which he won easily.

He then purchased this fine suit (Note - Eric was 17 years old in this picture)

Eric may come across as cocky at times, but after all of his accomplishments, this confidence is much more understandable.  He also has a philanthropic soul, as he is currently growing out his sick flow, brah, to donate to Locks of Love.  Donations can be made to support Eric at locksoflove.org

Faulty reasoning

The person who created this is being a critic only because he has internet access

I used to be agree with the above statement.  Giving everybody the internet as a publishing space is like giving a toddler a paint set, a cup of coffee, and no supervision in a room full of Italian furniture (I typed "fancy furniture" into Google and Italian stuff was the first to come up, so I'm assuming it's the fanciest).  You'd be stupid to be surprised at a mess.  However, somewhere in there, there might be something brilliant, and unless you give the kid a shot, there's no way to find it.  I've heard that Picasso's first canvas was his mother's walls, and while I think that he wasn't very good, many people consider him to be quite the artist.  He used the only outlet that was given to him and used it well.

Now I disagree with that statement.

Stuart told me that he read an article comparing the ability to publish online to the invention of the printing press.  For a long, long time, nobody had the ability to publish any more copies than they could hand-write.  Then came the printing press, which let them put out their word to the masses.  Did all of the intellectuals, critics, poets, and artists that were noticed only once they were able to publish by using the printing press not exist before they could do this?  Of course not.  They were only recognized as such by the limited number of people they could share their work with.  Let's take a quick look at famous books:

 The printing press was first invented in 593 in China, but the Gutenberg Printing Press, which revolutionized printing in the western world, wasn't invented until 1439.  As you can see, all of these books were printed after the printing press was invented.  We wouldn't have any knowledge of them unless they were printed.

The printing press enabled thousands of people to share their work, thousands of people to appreciate it, and thousands of people to critique it.  Obviously, there was still crap produced.  Lots of it.  But you have to assume that with everything that was submitted, a decent percentage of it was good.

The internet enables hundreds of millions of people to share their work, hundreds of millions of people to appreciate it, and hundreds of millions of people to critique it.  Obviously, there is still crap produced.  Lots of it.  But you have to assume that with everything that was submitted, a decent percentage of it was good.

Crap that the internet enabled.

It has to be assumed that the ratio of good stuff to total stuff is pretty much the same no matter what pool you're pulling from.  Because there are more people publishing now that they have the ability to, there will be more crap, but there will also be more good stuff.

If we don't give people the ability to publish, how will we ever find everything that needs to be published?  I can only imagine that the guy who thinks that nobody is an artist is, well, the only person who really isn't an artist.  I'm aware of the fact that I'm currently trying to benefit from publishing on the internet, but doesn't everybody at least deserve a chance if they want one?  I'm not going to go call up some big New York City publishing firm and ask them to put out a collection of my ramblings, because they're not good enough, but putting them on here gives me an outlet, and obviously you think it's worthwhile enough to read this far, so point proven (Unless you're just doing this to make fun of me, but at least I'm serving some purpose, right?  Like, that's a good thing?  I think?)

A Salute to Heroes

 Today marks the fifth of five installments of Letters to Pilky's first Recognition Week, where we here at LtP recognize those who, well, deserve recognition.

"Remember kid, there's heroes and there's legends.  Heroes get remembered, but legends never die." - Babe Ruth, the Sandlot (If you actually needed that citation, I'm extremely disappointed)

Can you believe there isn't a picture of Ruth's ghost in Smalls' room on the internet?

From the first time I heard the above quote, I was sure that it only meant one thing: be a legend, become immortal, do things that nobody else has ever done (ok, that's three things, but how lame is the phrase, "I was sure that it only meant three things").  Now, I'm sure that this is not only impossible, but that I would never want to encounter a situation where it was possible. 

People don't become legends.  Moments become legendary.  Legends come about because of things that heroes do that will never be forgotten, that will be passed on until the end of time.  The 300 at Thermopylae weren't legends, but their stand is a moment that has become legendary.  Paul Revere wasn't a legend, but his ride is a moment that became legendary.  Babe Ruth wasn't a legend, but when he pointed his bat over the center field fence at Wrigley Field, he created a legendary moment.  Neil Armstrong wasn't a legend, but when he stepped onto the moon he created a legendary moment.  The 1980 U.S. hockey team wasn't made up of legends, but when they beat the Russians they created a legendary moment.

These are moments that stand out forever in time.  Moments that you can mention offhandedly and everyone will know what you're talking about and where they were when it happened.  Legends aren't people, but situations.  Snapshots in time.  Images that make us awestruck and proud and amazed all at the same time, no matter how involved we are or were in the situation.

I'm fairly certain that all of you know exactly what this was.

Heroes are just people who stand out further and shine brighter than everybody else.  This doesn't mean that they have to stand out to everybody, just to whoever it is that they're a hero to.  They have their faults and their downsides, but they're still important enough in the lives of some where it doesn't matter that they mess up, because the ups and downs are what make them human.  Would we really look up to our heroes if they were legends?  They'd be totally unreachable: impossible to grasp, impossible to comprehend.  Would we go out into our backyards and our basements and pretend to be them hour after hour, day after day, year after year in our childhoods?  Would we sit at our desks and wonder, "What if?" as we approach adulthood?  We'll tell our kids about the legendary moments because they are a part of our culture, but they're distant, they're not personal.  We have relationships with our heroes.  Heroes make us cry.  Heroes make us dream.  Heroes make us downright giddy.  Heroes aren't larger than life, they are a part of life.

"When I walked down the street people would've looked and they would've said there goes Roy Hobbs, the best there ever was in this game"

The Babe had it right in The Sandlot, legends are immortal.  Legendary moments never end.  Heroes, however, are the ones that get remembered.  They are remembered as people, they are remembered as real, they are remembered as much for who they are as for what they did and as much for the times that they made us cheer as for the times that they made us cry.  Moses killed a man, Thomas Jefferson and FDR slept around, Mickey Mantle was a drunk, Michael Jordan is an asshole.  Nobody is perfect, but they don't have to be.  These people accomplished great things, incredible things, things that nobody thought could be done.  Can you honestly say that they aren't good heroes, or that you haven't looked at them in a hero's light?

If heroes were perfect in every regard, nobody would look up to them in the way that we do.  It would be impossible to replicate them or even outdo them from the time that we made our first mistake.  We would respect them and admire them, but we could never be them, and the possibility of being them is what's so beautiful and so terrifying and so incredible about having a hero.  If they were legends, they'd be perfect, and perfection is impossible to replicate.  This is why legendary moments are legendary.  They are perfect.  They can't be changed.  Perfection is possible, but only for brief moments in time, and they are so rare that when they do happen they are impossible to forget.

"This team is perfect. We stepped out on that field that way tonight. And, uh, if it's all the same to you, Coach Boone, that's how we want to leave it."

Heroes aren't perfect, they can't be.  They brush perfection and then lose it, but for every time that they are that close to it there is another time that they couldn't be farther away.  Both types of moments seem to last forever, but heroes are able to accept that.  They know that glory is fleeting, but they know that disappointment is too.  Anybody can be bold when they hit that high, but true courage shows up when they hit the low.  These are the people that we look up to.  These are our heroes.

I believe that labeling a person as your hero is the greatest compliment and the greatest statement of love that can be made.  I know this because I have heroes, and they are the people that I respect most.  Jim Thome is on that list.  Ben Folds is on that list.  So is Howard Roark.  But above them are my brothers and my parents and my grandparents, my coaches and my friends.  These are the people who have influenced me.  These are the people who have qualities that I wish I had.  These are the people who I love

So here's to heroes, both those who have created legendary moments that the world knows and those who are only a hero to one person.  Thank you for being real.  Thank you for being attainable.  Thank you for showing us that even though we can't be perfect forever there's no reason why we shouldn't strive for perfection anyway.

A Salute to Hockey Players

Today marks the fourth of five installments of Letters to Pilky's first Recognition Week, where we here at LtP recognize those who, well, deserve recognition.

If the world was run by hockey players, I'm convinced that it would be a better place.  Here's why:

1.  They have an amazing ability to put things in perspective

While driving back from South Bend after moving Michael out, I was listening to Game 4 of the Western Conference Finals, the game in which Blackhawks defenseman Duncan Keith got his teeth knocked out by a slapshot.  He only left the game for about five minutes, but after the period they provided a pretty good interview with another player (I'm pretty sure it was Brent Seabrook, but I'm not positive.  We'll assume it was).  They asked him whether he thought Keith would be able to contribute very well for the rest of the game, to which he responded by saying (rather nonchalantly), "Oh yea.  Dunk's a good tough hawkey playur, ya know?  Kind of a leetle beet of a, uh, rough break dare, but, uh, ya know, he should be ready to go for dee uh, duh rest of duh gayme."

What??

This man just got a quarter of his teeth taken out, and it's no big deal?  There are professional baseball players who get put on the disabled list for blisters.  Basketball players get rested all the time for tweaked hammies.  This man was bleeding profusely from the mouth, had his fricken teeth shattered, swallowed some of them, and nobody's worked up about it?  These guys can take a hit.

This is exactly why we'd be set if they were put in charge of running the world.  There's some bad stuff going on out there, even stuff that rivals getting seven teeth shattered by a hockey puck traveling close to 100 miles per hour (I know, seems improbable).  Seriously though, the world of politics is a cheap-shot ridden, no holds barred, kill or be killed dogfight, and some stuff that seems pretty horrible has to be put into context.  Hockey players are used to getting beaten up.  They have to get beaten up consistently for 20-25 minutes per game.  Studies have shown that football games only have 15 minutes of action in them, so that's 7.5 minutes for offense and defense, and they get a full 40 seconds between hits.  Hockey players get checked and hit with sticks pretty much for minutes at a time, all without losing sight of a little puck being whipped around the ice.  If these guys were in politics, I feel like they would definitely be able to take things in stride, without getting too upset about them, all while still being able to keep things in perspective and keeping their eyes on the goal (pun not intended, but pretty unavoidable).

2.  Hockey Players are willing to accept roles

Quick, who is this man:

I'm willing to be that unless you're a serious hockey fan, you don't know.  But I bet you do know who this is:

The bottom one is Wayne Gretzky, the greatest hockey player of all time.  Who is the top one?  None other than Dave Semenko, one of the greatest goons in NHL history, and the man who, in part, gave Gretzky the ability to become the greatest hockey player of all time.  Basically, anybody who tried to hinder Gretzky's progress immediately got the crap beaten out of them by our boy Semenko, which pretty much gave Gretzky the ability to do whatever he wanted on the ice.

"But Young William," you ask, "What does this have to do with running the world?"

Basically, everybody needs to learn how to accept the roles that they're put into.  Dave Semenko was never going to be as skilled of a scorer as Wayne Gretzky, and he knew that, but do to Gretzky's limited stature, he would have been rocked every time he stepped on the ice if he didn't have a little help.  Semenko knew he wasn't going to get the glory (although he did gain quite a cult following), or any of the records, but he was able to be extremely valuable to his team through his ability to beat people up.  In the real world, very few people get the glory, and problems arise when the people who don't get the glory wish they did, become jealous, and try to undermine the entire system.  (Anytime the word "undermine" is used, you know things aren't going to end well)  We need people who are willing to accept their roles, no matter how much external recognition they receive, because it will improve the overall good.  If we had less people in congress trying to get their own agendas realized, and more people trying to figure out how to get our money back, I think we'd be more than a little better off.

3. They have a quick and easy way of solving problems

In the real world, problems generally take way longer to solve than they should.  There's a pretty much generally accepted solution, which is ignored, lots of discussion, which eventually comes back to the solution which had been proposed in the first place, more discussion because the losing party doesn't want to accept the solution, more discussion, and finally they come to terms which more or less resemble where they already were.

In hockey, they fight, and it's over.  Quick, easy, and simple.  If these guys ran the world, conflicts would be over and done with within a matter of minutes.  No more war, no more court cases that take years to resolve, these guys would pretty much just lay down the law and it would be over and done with.  Period.  Game over.

4.  Hockey players are extremely low maintenance

These guys basically need nothing to keep them happy.  You never hear about hockey players getting upset about terms of a contract, they never hold out, they pretty much just accept their worth and live with it, and if they don't like it they try to improve it.  This is basically the way that America was built into the most successful country in the world.  The founding fathers (should that be capitalized?) didn't like their situation so they changed it.  Henry Ford didn't like his situation so he improved it.  Martin Luther King Jr. didn't like his situation so he changed it.  They didn't whine for the sake of whining, and largely they take care of their own problems.  Instead of talking about their problems and wondering why they don't change, they don't talk about it and fix it.  I can't believe that anyone can possibly argue that this wouldn't be an improvement.

A Salute to Howard Roark

Today marks the third of five installments of Letters to Pilky's first Recognition Week, where we here at LtP recognize those who, well, deserve recognition.

Whenever I'm in doubt about just about anything, I think about what this man would do:

Wait a minute...

Your first thought may have been that this man is God, and while I often think about what God would want me to do in many situations, I have trouble ever actually doing what God would do (mostly because I lack the ability to create the world, create any type of species, flood the world, change myself from spiritual form to human form, burn a bush without it actually burning, or part any bodies of water), so instead, I look to Howard Roark.  "But Young William," you ask, "who is Howard Roark, and why does he look so pale in the picture you just posted of him?"  Well, Howard Roark is a fictional character from an incredible novel called The Fountainhead, by Ayn Rand, but before you start questioning my sanity if I'm relying on a guy who doesn't even exist to lead my life, I'd like to give you a little bit of background information: (Deep breath...) Howard Roark is what he calls a "prime mover," which basically means that he makes decisions based on his own personal preferences and opinions, rather than what other people pressure him to do.  He is an architect, and is directly contrasted to a man named Peter Keating, who always succumbs to the pressures of meeting social norms and doing what other people to do.  This method of action works out early for Keating, who gets a high paying job out of college but does menial work, while Roark has a hard time finding work because he refuses to do a job where anybody else influences his work.  He believes that his ideas are great, and he doesn't want them to be watered down by others.  Roark is totally content with his life throughout the novel, even though he lives in shabby apartments and has a very low living standard.  Keating, with his nice job and its cushy benefits, ultimately realizes that he is just a puppet for his boss and his customers.  He isn't an architect because he takes great pride in his buildings, but rather because he likes these benefits, while Roark is rewarded by every job he receives, because he takes great pride and joy in his work.  To quote Roark: "Before you can get things done, you must be the kind of man who can get things done.  But to get things done, you must love the doing, not the secondary consequences.  The work, not the people.  Your own action, not any possible object of your charity.  I'll be glad if people who need it find a better manner of living in a house I designed.  But that's not the motive of my work.  Nor my reason.  Nor my reward."

Ayn Rand became an author only after her modeling career didn't work out.

 A recent poll of all people sitting at a northwest window seat of the 12th floor of the library while wearing a 2008 IHSA Baseball State Finals t-shirt, who were given the option of whether different adjectives described Roark came back in this way:

Poll may or may not be scientific

Basically, Roark was happy because he was always doing exactly what he wanted to do.  he was never compromised in any way.  Obviously, this didn't mean that he was always making money, always employed, or always had a full stomach, but it did ensure that he would never regret anything that he did, which very few people can say that they did.  We all look for external validation for our actions, but why?  Will people really respect us more if we decide to always do what they want us to do?  I don't think so.  I think it is much more impressive for someone to stand up for what they believe in, and who they are, even if it means going against the flow or receiving little support.  This also makes success that much more rewarding when it finally does come, because we know that we are fully responsible for it, and it came in a way that we are truly proud of and truly believe in.  Roark didn't allow his ideas to be watered down, and allowed the realizations of these ideas to be the only reward he needed.  He never did something just for a paycheck, or just for recognition.  As he mentions in the earlier quote, he's not opposed to external validation at all, and in fact is in favor of it, but he will never allow for it to be his only motivator.  We all know Peter Keatings; people who will never do anything unless it's supported by the general opinion, or who will immediately look around after they accomplished something because they want people to see how cool they are, but who never go out and do something just for the sake of doing it.  It's impossible for us to totally avoid these things, as we are all social animals, but there really isn't a reason that these types of sentiments should dominate our lives.

I'm pretty sure these guys didn't do this to prove how cool they were.

Long story short, the people that I most respect are Roarkians, and the people I least respect are Keatingians (also known as attention whores).  Thome plays ball for a small salary, in a small market, without much noise, because he loves playing ball, while LeBron James seems to be playing in hopes of blowing himself up into a combination of Michael Jordan, Paris Hilton, and Khloe Kardashian.  Folds plays music he loves, in a style he loves, even though he'll never be as big as the artists who sell themselves out.  William Golding wrote Lord of the Flies, which sold no more than 3000 copies before initially going out of print.  he must have known it would be controversial, and he surely could have found something more popular to write, but he wanted to write his way, because that's something that he was passionate about.  Mother Theresa could have been a televangelist and reaped attention (and money) from around the world, but she did what she loved and was passionate about, and went to Calcutta.  These are the kinds of people that we all respect.  These are the kinds of people that we emulate.

Definitely worth reading.

So here's to you, Howard Roark.  Thanks for showing us it's more important to love something than to be noticed for it.  Thanks for showing us to never let The Man run us down.  Thanks for showing us that we'll always be happy if we stay true to ourselves.  Thanks for showing us that there's nothing wrong with being misunderstood by others as long as we understand ourselves.  And thanks for proving that the most successful people aren't the ones with the most money at the end of the day, or the most fame at the end of the day, or the highest number of successes at the end of the day, but rather those who are able to take the most pride in, and gain the most happiness from, their success.

A Salute to Ben Folds

Today marks the second of five installments of Letters to Pilky's first Recognition Week, where we here at LtP recognize those who, well, deserve recognition.


The greatest rock pianist since Billy Joel is this man:

Insert joke about illegal pirating of music here.

Ben Folds is a man that I don't think gets enough love.  With guitar-based music dominating the rock scene for most of the '80s and '90s, Ben Folds has been able to have quite the career through his piano-based music (which my iTunes tells me is either Soft Rock (Rockin' the Suburbs), Rock (Songs for Silverman, Way to Normal), or Alternative & Punk (Supersunnyspeedgraphic), but I'm pretty sure I'd throw Jazz in there too).  Not only is he unique in this regard, but he has also managed to avoid conformity in pretty much every regard.  Folds is quoted as saying that, "Rock and roll is - and should be - a kid's place," and from my experience as a fan I can say pretty confidently that he has stuck to this statement throughout his career.  (In fact, his music keeps getting more and more "out there," as opposed to heading towards any one distinct subgroup in the rock and roll field)  The only other artist that I would group in the alternative/rock/soft rock piano field would be Ben Kweller, and he and Ben Folds collaborated (along with Ben Lee) on a tour through Australia in what may go down in history as the second greatest "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em" musical effort, only behind Billy Joel and Elton John's recent tour.  They labeled themselves "The Bens" (so uncreative it almost seems creative) and even put out an EP, labeled (wait for it)...(seriously, this is brilliant)..."The Bens" (I know, incredible).  All kidding aside though, I dare you to dislike this song: Bruised - The Bens.  That's our boy on bass in the beginning, Ben Lee on guitar, and Kweller on the drums, and they sound pretty good, but when Folds shifts to the piano, to quote AnotherRainyDay11's (could they have chosen a more emo name?) comment, "it is pure magic."

Seemed like a good time for a watercolor.  Props to Jay Montgomery, whoever you are.

The cool thing about piano music is that there are so many more options than a guitar.  You can play up to ten individual notes, or one or two chords and a note, or two chords, or one power chord, all at the same time.  Plus there's a huge range, and you can have a definite melody while still providing a harmonic bass line.  Killer, brah.  (Speaking of such, Ben Folds would probably appreciate this.  Otherwise, how could he possibly explain this video?)  Anyway, this harmony is what Folds' music is all about.  He rarely has exceptionally powerful lyrics and even though he has the potential to turn into a jam artist, he hasn't taken advantage of that.  Start listening to this: Late - Ben Folds.  There are about 4-5 things going on musically all at once.  Folds voice, the bass, the bass line on the piano, the piano melody, and even the drums, which seem to be doing more than accompanying him, all create some serious depth to the song.  Now try this one:  Army - Ben Folds (Live).  He even describes the multiple musical lines going on at once at the beginning of the song.  "But Young William," you say, "Every band has multiple instruments.  How can you say that Ben Folds is any better than anyone else?"  Good question.

Here's Ben Folds' answer:  "White people don't sing together very often, and when they do, it's about the celebrity of the song.  The singing at my shows is about harmony."

Black people, on the other hand, do sing together well, and often, and with stellar harmony.

 Here's my answer:  Ben Folds puts everything together at once.  While other bands might have great solos with not much going on in the background, Folds has figured out a style that seems to combine a bunch of solos.  Listen to this: Fair - Ben Folds Five.  Besides having one of the best album covers ever, it has a gazillion different things that by themselves could all be solid solos, but they're all layered on top of each other.  There's piano, bass, jazz drumming, a fricken xylophone, Folds lead singing, the background harmony singing, electric guitar, and probably some other stuff that I missed.  If you focus on a different instrument every time the song will still be interesting every time, which is very cool.  This is why Ben Folds is a type of utility artist.  His music can be played in just about any situation, can be featured or be background noise, and falls into a bunch of genres, so it's really hard to dislike everything that he does.  Very few artists are this versatile.  I'm not a great musical historian, but I'd consider myself decent, and I believe that there was nobody like Ben Folds before him, and I have a hard time believing that anyone will be able to replicate his style after him.  He's very free-flowing, doesn't really care what other people think about him (Always Someone Cooler Than You - Ben Folds), and is a master of about 47 different instruments (not really, but close).  So here's to you, Ben Folds.  Thanks for not conforming.  Thanks for not giving a shit about what we think.  Thanks for bringing back music in an age of synthetic pop.  Most of all, thanks for reminding us that, "the piano is just a different animal.  It's expensive, it's big, it's heavy, and it doesn't fit in the mix easily.  Everyone grew up with a piano in their living room, so rocking out on the piano was accessible - it wasn't an upper-class thing.  Now pianos have become very much a piece of furniture."  Hopefully there's some young bespectacled rebel doing just that right now.

A Salute to Jim Thome

Today marks the first of five installments of Letters to Pilky's first Recognition Week, where we here at LtP recognize those who, well, deserve recognition.

When I was little, the only thing I ever wanted to be was Jim Thome.

Mostly because of his striking good looks

Jim Thome was larger than life to young six year-old William when he led the Indians to the American League championship in 1997.  I always made sure that he was the "Star Player" in Hardball 5, and after my Albert Belle shirt wore out, his #25 was the second Indians jersey I ever had (and one of the best birthday presents of all time.  Too bad it doesn't fit anymore... I wouldn't mind another one... Good thing you can make custom jerseys on mlb.com... Take note, family).  He was (and is) a country-strong, home run hitting machine, and I'm confident that nobody has ever had more fun on a baseball field than he has.

Seriously, have you ever seen somebody this happy?

When my brother and I were little, we would always play tennis ball baseball in the sideyard.  It was always Indians vs Orioles, recreating the 1996 ALDS and the 1997 ALCS.  We would take the lineups out of Outside Pitch, give me a 3-0 lead in the series, and play out the rest of the series (I'm pretty sure my record was something like 1-97 in those things, which means I won 1 game and lost 387, but boy was that one victory glorious).  We would bat lefty for lefties and righty for righties, so in theory every player was the same, but I never felt more confident than when Big Jim Thome came up in the 7-hole. (Tangent:  The Indians were loaded in '97.  Bip Roberts, Omar Vizquel, Manny Ramirez, David Justice, Matt Williams, Sandy Alomar, Thome, Tony Fernandez, Marquis Grissom.  Rotation of Nagy, Hershiser, Ogea, Colon, and Wright.  Jose Mesa out of the pen.  How did we ever lose a game?).  I'm pretty sure that he batted close to .700 in those games (probably not really, but it felt like it).  Anyway, more than any other athlete ever has been (sorry Casey Blake), Jim Thome was my idol.

This was the best decision I have ever made.

Jim Thome used to just be a ballplayer to me, and there was nothing wrong with that.  Hundreds of guys are "just ballplayers" to the public.  They go onto the field, play the game, and go home, and we know nothing about them except for some stats, and maybe the memory of a Web Gem or walkoff homer they had.  

Paul Assenmacher - solid reliever, but pretty much just a ballplayer

As I've grown up, and my baseball appreciation has matured, I have come to realize that Jim Thome is more than just a ballplayer.  He is a role model.  In an age where many athletes worry about promoting their individual "brands" or trying to bring in as much money as possible, Thome is quietly becoming one of the best hitters of all time.  He is currently 8th all-time in home runs, only 20 behind Sammy Sosa, and 39th all-time in RBIs.  Disregarding players who have been linked to steroids (Sosa, A-Rod, and Bonds), Thome would be in 5th, in the company of Hank Aaron, Babe Ruth, Willie Mays, and Ken Griffey.  He is so humble, however, that many people forget about just how good he has been for such a long career.  His teams have a winning percentage of .540 for his career, which speaks to his skills as a player, but also speaks to his skills as a teammate and as a person.  He always has a smile on his face, he is always enjoying himself, and he always knows that his team will come out on top.  As anybody who has ever played organized sports knows, this type of attitude is contagious, and definitely will never hurt a team's ability to win.

Plus he has mad hops

In a game where failure is so prevalent, Thome is an eternal optimist.  He has 2395 career strikeouts, good for 2nd most all-time among hitters, and his lifetime batting average is .278.  He gets out a lot, but he always seems to not only think that he'll get a home run his next time up, but know that he'll hit one.  Last week, Sports Illustrated ran an article on Thome in which he was quoted as saying "Something special is always just about to happen. You've just got to believe it."  This is a man who is paying to put all ten of his nephews and nieces through college, whose nephew is paralyzed after suffering a spinal injury, and who lost his mother, one of his best friends, recently.  Circumstances don't phase Jim Thome.  Is there any better mindset than this?  It's applicable in everything.  It eliminates all potential excuses.  Whenever anything goes wrong, he always looks forward to the next opportunity.  Notice also how he uses the word "special" as opposed to "good" or something along those lines.  Imagine a life where you're always looking forward to that special occurrence.  No wonder he always looks so giddy.

A few weeks ago I wrote about how those who are hated have reached the top of their game.  I issued an addendum after my brother pointed out that those who truly transcend their field are too good to be hated.  He used the Beatles as an example, and I'd like to use Jim Thome.  Sure there are a few boo-birds in Cleveland when he comes back after leaving in 2001, but I find it hard to believe that anybody truly wants him to fail after all that he has done for the game.

If you don't see a resemblance, please stop reading

Looking at Jim Thome has always made me think a little bit of Babe Ruth.  The high socks, the baggy jersey, the chubby, clean-shaven face, the paunch of gut.  The Babe was larger than life, and to me, at least, so is Jim Thome.  So here's to you big man:  Thanks for never cheating.  Thanks for never giving up.  I hope that you finally find that World Series championship that you so rightly deserve.  That would really be something special.

Logic has a way of killing dreams

I was recently told that I have very fickle emotions.  I immediately agreed of course, because that's what fickle people do, but then I realized that I wasn't exactly sure what fickle even meant.  According to good ol' dictionary.com, fickle means "likely to change, esp. due to caprice, irresolution, or instability; casually changeable."  I would absolutely agree with this, but I'm not a big fan of the word "casually" or "irresolution" in reference to something as serious as my emotions.  Because of this, I went on to look up "capricious," the first word referenced on the thesaurus list for "fickle," but that basically just said that it was "indicative of caprice or whim."  (What kind of a definition is that? Obviously something capricious would be indicative of caprice, hence the "-ious")  I moved on to "whimsical" (<-- great word), and that's where I hit the jackpot: "given to whimsy or fanciful notions."  I know that sounds kind of gay, but it's quite possibly the greatest definition for my emotions ever.  (Editor's note:  Don't worry, even though the writer is sounding pretty self-centered right now, he's going somewhere.  I promise.  Because if he's not this wouldn't get published).  Anyway, I do have whimsical emotions.  I get extremely excited about mildly exciting things, and extremely bummed about mildly disappointing things.  Anyway, I'd like to take this time to thank whoever it was that made me so whimsical (Family?  Peers?  God?  Bill Watterson?), because you've made the past 19+ years a lot more enjoyable.

This is what would happen if Calvin wasn't whimsical.

I have a lot of optimism, to the point where my brain tries to talk my heart out of doing things.  Sample conversation from early August, 2010:

Heart:  "The Indians are definitely winning the World Series."
Brain:  "You're an idiot."
Heart:  "Are you kidding?  We're about to hit our hot streak.  Just you wait.  We just recalled Michael Brantley!!!"
Brain:  "We're behind the Royals in the standings right now.  The Kansas City freakin' Royals.  Finishing in 4th place of the worst division in baseball isn't even a given right now.  There's a good chance that if we won 80% of our games from here on out we still wouldn't even make the playoffs.  How are we supposed to win the World Series?"
Heart:  "How can you possibly think we'll only win 80% of the rest of our games?"

At this point, I begin to imagine my brain bashing its head against a wall.  I will always side with my heart, though, because my heart always has a better time.  Logic has a way of killing dreams, and that's not something that I'm in favor of.  I would much rather have incredibly optimistic dreams, go head-first into everything, and have absolute joy than hang out in the neutral zone in order to protect myself from the fall that comes from being that high up emotionally.  What's the point of not getting hurt if you're not going to ever find joy?  That's like going through life without ever making friends because, inevitably, they'll all eventually die.  You might as well enjoy them for as long as possible, right?  Same goes for emotions.  You might as well feel that joy that comes from the belief that everything will work out for as long as possible, even if there's a chance it will all come crashing down.

When Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins (this guy gets no love) got back from the moon, I bet that looking up there at night killed them.  They reached a goal that had been thought impossible to reach for billions of years, the high that they felt must have been incredible, and therefore the resulting low must have felt terrible.  I still get sad about the fact that middle school is over, and that wasn't that great.  How nostalgic are they that they aren't on the moon anymore?  However empty that feels, they didn't give up the opportunity to attain that high.  They could have said, "I don't want to be let down if it fails or let down once we get back," and given the duty to somebody else, but they realized that the joy that came from their achievements would be so great as to be worth any possible nostalgia.

According to Jim Valvano, who should be everyone's hero to some extent, " there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. Number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy. But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special."  Number 1 is easy, we all do that.  Number 2 is more tricky, but also pretty easy to attain.  Number 3, however, is incredibly difficult.  How many people can honestly say that they can do this?  My guess is none, but it's a pretty good goal, and I honestly believe that the world would be better if everybody could do this.  This type of emotion requires passion of the highest caliber, and passion is incredible.

Doesn't seem like a bad life to me.

There's no reason to ever be afraid to show emotions.  There's no reason to ever not be passionate.  I have no idea who Charles de Lint is, but he, at one point in his life, whenever that was, said, "When all's said and done, all roads lead to the same end.  so it's not so much which road you take, as how you take it."  We're all born and we all die, and we all have one chance at everything along the way, so why not try to find as many times as possible to be absolutely joyful?  I'm more than willing to be whimsical, with all of it's lows, as long as it keeps bringing me the highs.