On Springtime

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Three minutes ago I was trying to figure out just how to get away from South Bend, which is ironic considering what I’m about to write but not so unbelievable considering the conditions at the time.  For the past week, in every spare minute I’ve had (and in some minutes that really shouldn’t have been considered “spare”) I’ve been refreshing Indians.com and @MLBastian’s twitter feed in order to keep myself as up to date as I possibly can on the Tribe’s progress in Spring Training.  It’s been the most exciting and productive offseason in recent memory, and I’ve been counting down the days (40!) until they open the season in Toronto.  The fact that they’re in beautiful Arizona with its sunshine and mountain backdrops while I’m in South Bend with its sleet and haze has only made me want to mentally move from here to there that much more.

That’s how we get back to me wanting to leave South Bend.  I went to map out the distance from South Bend to Goodyear, AZ, but before I could find anything out (1840 miles, 27 hours according to the speed limits) the picture below popped up to remind me where I am.

When I saw that picture I got a feeling not unlike the one that you get when you see a girl you’re into flirting with another guy.  Gravity loses a grip on your stomach, your shoulders fall, and you’d give anything to just be able to turn and look away but you know it’s pretty much useless to even try.  There’s a time bomb in your pocket and no matter what you do or say you know that eventually you’re going to lose them.  On this cold, windy, snowy-but-not-pretty-snow day in South Bend that picture showed me the warm-weather Notre Dame that's going to appear in a few weeks, and while I love everything about Notre Dame, that's the Notre Dame that I love best, and that's the Notre Dame that I'm going to miss.

Notre Dame is special in the springtime more than any other time of the year.  Springtime is when basketball games move outdoors, organized events slow down and free time builds out, and futons move onto the quad just in time for Sundress Day.  Springtime is when the afternoon sun hits the stained glass of Alumni Chapel perfectly, warms the balconies enough for a rooftop happy hour, and then slips over the top of the Rock in the prettiest sunset in the world.

Beat that.

Springtime is when you spend more time with your friends because you know you won't see them in months, it's when you stop spending so much time studying, either because you don't care or because you have the class pattern down, it's when you walk just a little slower to lectures because it's that nice out.  Springtime is when reading moves from library tables to lakeside benches, it's when Fridays and Saturdays become one long various-shades-of-drunk bonding session, and when you start to hear the bagpipes on the breeze in the late afternoon. Springtime is when shirts turn to tanks, it's when you trade cab rides for group walks, and it's when God washes over campus in the form of cool evening humidity.  Springtime is when Notre Dame comes out in full force to really ensure that you miss it all summer.  I've always loved it, except this time the summer away that follows South Quad Spring won't turn back into Football Fall.

Starting three months from now, South Bend won't be home ever again.  There will be springs wherever I go and I don't know what they will be like, but whatever they are, they won't bring what's coming in the next few weeks, and I hate knowing that, but at the same time, I've been blessed with the experience of springtime here that only a few get to know.  So while I'm going to have to part ways with it eventually, and while that feeling in my stomach might come back, I still can't wait for it to come.

!

Two nights ago, I was told by someone I know that life is a question mark, that you can never be sure what's going to happen next, that it's one big mystery.

Ehhhhhhhhhhhh...

I'll give her that you can never be totally sure of anything, but at the same time, she's making it sound like Mario Kart, where you get hit by lightning or tracked down by a turtle shell at least once every 60 seconds.  Now, I don't know all that much about what's going on with her, but I can honestly say that none of those things have ever happened to me.

Milwaukee, apparently

There are unknowns.  There are lots of unknowns.  In fact, there are very few knowns, and that's even if you count high probability assumptions, such as surviving the morning drive to work.  These things are scary, some are terrifying, some make us stay awake at night, some make us doubt ourselves, and some seem insurmountable.  In no way am I saying that there aren't question marks in life, but that doesn't automatically make life a question mark.  We give out question marks when we run out of our own options, either when we don't have any ideas left or when we don't care enough to find out by ourselves.  Is that really what we want to reduce life to?

Let's pretend that

Clay Matthews

is chasing you down.

What do you do?  Well, you, you scared little ball carrier you, have options.
1. Stand still
2. Run at him
3. Try to avoid him
That's pretty much it.  Now, there's a great chance that by doing any of these three things you're going to get clobbered, but at least in the second two you are in control of your own destiny.  If you try to avoid him, you have a chance to get away.  If you run at him and initiate contact, you have some control of where the hit's happening.  If you stand there and leave it up to him, they'll have to peel you out of the Frozen Tundra.

This isn't something that a positive attitude can solve.  This is something that only effort and passion and hope can solve. 

"Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe even the best of things, and no good thing ever dies"

A positive attitude wasn't going to get Andy DuFresne out of Shawshank.  A positive attitude won't save your teeth if Clay Matthews is running at you.  A positive attitude only works when coupled with hope, which my dictionary defines as "a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen."  Key word there?  Expectation.



If we wait to see what the scary things are going to do to us, even if we have the best of attitudes, they will inevitably do something other than what we want, and while it may never result in us face-down in the Lambeau Field turf, it could cause other things that are just as bad emotionally, if not physically.  On the other hand, if we take that fear and channel it, and decide that we're going to do something about it and keep it in our own hands, we can do absolutely no worse, and a lot of the time we can do a lot better.  If we expect to come out ahead and we act like it, if we expect to break out of that prison and do something about it, if we expect to juke out that linebacker and start making some moves, there's a chance that we will, but if we sit around and wait to get hit by the scary unknown, the best case will never happen.  Clay Matthews doesn't miss tackles.  Shawshank doesn't let guys out because they feel bad for them.

We need to be bold, we need to expect excellence in the hopes that we will only fall as low as success, and we need to live life as an exclamation point, not a question mark.  Exclamation points accomplish their purpose!  Aren't question marks just waiting to get eliminated?

Reflections

Last night was frustrating for me.  Seeing the Bulls lose was tough, but in all honesty an NBA Championship was a stretch this year.  D-Rose can only do so much (especially when he stops getting the ball to Luol in the 4th), and the team still needs to mature and figure out their identity.  Yes, watching a thirteen point lead disappear in a matter of seconds was tough, but what was even worse was watching Lebron James flop, cry, bitch, and bullshit his way through that basketball game.

Before I get the "you hate him because he's the best" argument, I'll admit a few things:
1. Yes, he's the best player in the NBA.  Not the most valuable to his team, but absolutely the best.
2. He's an adult and can play wherever he wants to play.  He technically didn't owe Cleveland (home of your Major League Best Indians!) anything.

There.  That's out of the way.  Please wait a few minutes while I go confess to my sins of appreciating a douche bag.

While you wait, please notice: A. The score, B. Lebron being a baby, C. Dwyane Wade being embarrassed by Lebron's bitchiness

Thanks for waiting. 

The reason that Lebron James will never be better than Michael Jordan, will never be more valuable than Kobe Bryant, and will eventually get eclipsed by Derrick Rose and countless others is his inability to take responsibility for anything.  He is 26 years old and an 8 year NBA vet, but if you were to ask him, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to hear him claim that none of his 1,233 career NBA fouls should have been called, and that none of his teams' 249 regular season losses were his fault.

That being said, I do think that Lebron James Game 5 performance was one of the most important of all time.  Important in that every young athlete, before being allowed to compete in Little League, YMCA Basketball, Pop Warner football, or Mite hockey, must be required to watch James' reactions, his flops, and his "look at me" celebrations.  If any of those kids ever do anything similar to what he did in that game, they should be banned from all competition for the rest of their lives.

Kobe Bryant is out to beat people.  Michael Jordan went out to humiliate people.  Derrick Rose is out to prove himself, and is humble enough to realize that he hasn't accomplished anything yet.  Lebron James is out to make people watch him.  He's not a competitor, he's an entertainer.  Give him a Globetrotters uniform.

*******

On a related note, is there anything worse than watching a sporting event that you're extremely invested in with someone who is cheering for the same outcome but is less invested than you are?  "Young William," I hear you ask, "Are you talking about watching the Bulls with your mother?"

"Yes."

If you can't be with thousands of others cheering with you, sometimes the next best thing is to be absolutely alone.  I was forced to leave my lucky chair in the family room after I was reprimanded by more than one person for reacting negatively to the flagrant foul called on Carlos Boozer (his first good defensive play of the series, also, clearly not a flagrant.  He went for the ball, he made contact with the ball, he fouled in the process.  He was forced to foul due to the angle of the drive.  The NBA rulebook (No. 12, Part B, Section IV a.) states that a flagrant foul is called when there is "unnecessary" contact.  Boozer's contact to James was necessary), leaving the much lower quality basement TV, a much less comfy chair, but much more inner peace as I could watch the game as I saw fit.  This obviously wasn't ideal, so I propose the following:

We really need two separate airings of big games.  That way, the more invested fans can watch, scream, and cry in peace, and then let the more casual fans see everything (maybe even condensed into a one hour special) later on that night.  ESPN, let's talk.

A young artist

I saw this picture today while I was supposed to be working.  While it may seem like a wonderful representation of the beauty and simplicity of youth sports in America (which it obviously is), it is also a picture of one of the best pitchers of our generation.  This is Tim Lincecum of the World Champion Giants somewhere between the ages of 1 and 15, so if you thought it looked familiar, it's probably because nothing has changed in the last ten years or so for this guy.

One of my favorite things about sports is that it's something that people do from the beginning of their lives without many changes taking place.  Accountants don't become accountants at age three, but kids do start playing ball around that time.  In this regard, athletes are artists.  They don't need someone to pay them in order for them to do something.  Love comes first.  Money comes second.  That's why I was so excited to see this picture.  This is akin to seeing Rembrandt with an 8 pack of Crayolas, of Beethoven playing a piano like Schroeder plays in Peanuts, of Charles Dickens writing a letter to Santa (or of Barack Obama stealing candy from the kids who had trick-or-treated for hours on Halloween and giving it to the kids who didn't want to go out in the first place).  I'm sure that none of those three decided at the age of 22 that they were going to paint or compose or write.  The art had been inside of them the whole time, just like pitching had been inside Young Timmy.

P.S.  If anybody has any pictures of Michael Jordan dunking on a little tykes hoop, Tiger Woods playing mini golf, or Michael Vick wrestling with his dog, let me know.

New Year's Resolutions

Bad news, folks.  Only four days into 2011 and my annual resolution of not biting my fingernails anymore has come to a screeching halt.  Mom always told me that I'd never have any friends or get married because of ugly fingernails (she's batting 1.000 for now), so I figure I should try to pick this one back up on January 5th.  Anyway, now that my on again off again (but mostly on again) relationship between my teeth and my fingernails has been firmly established, and since I only get one more chance to do this since the world's gonna end in December, 2012, I've decided to make some other New Year's Resolutions:

1.  Let's change the way we eat, let's change the way we live, and let's change the way we treat each other - You see, the old way wasn't working, so it's on us, to do what we gotta do, to survive.
2.  Listen to more Tupac - The man knows what he's talking about
3.  Prove that Tupac is still alive - and preferably have a meet and greet session after.

Tupac changed his name to "Steve Yzerman" on September 14, 1996

4.  Buy "Just Dance" for Wii
4 (a).  Become "Just Dance" World Champion
5.  Move to Australia
6.  Play more piano - for the sole purpose of serenading girls
6 (a).  Find a girl that will put up with me long enough to let me serenade her
6 (b).  Avoid restraining orders
7.  Don't kill Voldemort the fish
8.  Be Tonya Harding to LeBron James' Nancy Kerrigan
9.  Figure out why ESPN isn't showing ND basketball on TV right now
10.  Ice Jimmy Clausen - and Jay Cutler
11.  Get the people of the great state of Wyoming something besides, well, nothing.

Aaaaaaaaaaand that's it

12.  Introduce Rex Ryan and John Madden - with their football appreciation I'm sure they'd hit it off pretty well

"Why yes, Rex, I do believe this would help your wife's feet stay beautiful."

13.  Convince Brian Kelly to have a tryout for the position of "Slow, short white guys who can't jump."
13 (a).  Attend tryout
13 (b).  Make it at least past the first 13 minutes of tryout
14.  Declare myself eligible for the NBA draft
15.  Get a shoe deal
16.  Be a leader
16 (a).  Become a legend
17.  Try to get visited in a dream by Ron Santo and/or Bob Feller
18.  Remind everybody that lacrosse is exactly like hockey (without the ice, and with a bigger goal, and with less pads on the goalie which makes the goal even bigger) so it's just as hard (right?)
19.  Watch the Indians and Cubs both in the World Series
19 (a).  Watch the Indians and Cubs both manage to lose the World Series
20.  See Brett Favre "play his last game"
21.  Get Ellen Page's number
21 (a).  Accidentally get Ellen Page pregnant while we're both still in high school, find a couple to adopt the baby before it's born, be ignored by Ellen Page for a while, before she realizes that the husband of the adoptive parents is a sleaze and that I still love her despite her baby, visit the hospital after the birth and spoon as the credits roll.
22.  Dumonts.  Lots and lots of dumonts.
23.  Forge a fifteen year Packers contract with Aaron Rodgers signature
24.  Figure out a way to keep Rich Rodriguez at Michigan
25.  Eat more Mike & Ikes
26.  Floss (but only cause my mom told me to and could definitely beat me up)

Home of the Cyclones

27.  Retire numbers 1, 13, 24, 27, and 51 at Pete Dodd Field, home of the Crystal Lake Cyclones Traveling Baseball Club
28.  Convince the Crystal Lake Cyclones to officially change their name to the Crystal Lake Cyclones Traveling Baseball Club
29.  Lead Athens to a National Championship before Johnny Morgan graduates
30.  See if I can pull a Brett Favre-esque return to high school baseball without being caught
31.  Find another class taught by Pilky
32.  Not blow out my knee(s)
33.  World peace, obviously
34.  Run a marathon (as in at least 26.2 miles total for the year)
35.  Find out if I got the DePaul basketball coaching job I applied for last year.
36.  Get on a game show
37.  Play the lottery
38.  Grow 5-7 inches
39.  Maintain the world's bushiest sideburns

Should keep me busy.  I'll check back in 360 days to see how I did.  If you have any additional suggestions, feel free to comment.  Chances are that I'll bail on those too, but at least you will have thrown your ideas out there!

On childhood

I had a very productive day on Monday.  I went to class, I ate two meals, I wrote four sentences of a spanish essay, and I played with LEGOs all afternoon (well, cheap, off-brand, we-don't-include-all-the-pieces-not-even-the-sweet-looking-gun building blocks, but what do you expect from a dude with a negative $40,000 a year income? (would that be a $40,000 a year outcome?  Do outcomes exist in a non-"the outcome of this event" sense?))  I had seen a sweet 500-piece aircraft carrier set at Walgreen's the day before, and since it was only 20 bucks, I decided that it couldn't pass it up, so after passing it up on Sunday, I went back on Monday to get it.  "But Young William," you ask, "you're nineteen years old and a college sophomore.  Haven't you outgrown that kind of stuff?"  To that I respond: not a chance.  It took a few hours to build, the final product was kind of a piece (read: the people are significantly bigger than the airplanes), and it was as much fun as it was when I was little.

Approximate ratio of sailor to plane

In recent months, I've been really concerned about growing up.  I'm only 103 days from leaving my teenage years, and because of this, I'm fairly sure that I have to do certain things such as "maturing", "becoming responsible", and "not acting like a 4 year-old."  For obvious reasons, this is mortifying. 

A few recent events have made me realize that maybe it isn't so bad.  First, reading Stuart's incredible essay on happiness made me feel better about myself, and when that started wearing off the LEGOs were right there to pick me up.

Basically, this stupid, 496-piece, fake, badly-proportioned LEGO boat reminded me that childhood is a state of mind as opposed to a time period.  Childhood only ends when we decide it has to end.

I'm not completely sure what the kid on the right is doing to make the kid in the middle scream like that, but the little girl seems to be enjoying herself.

The best part about kids is that they live in the moment.  They have nothing to worry about, no pressures, no cares, no nothing.  The only things that concern them are enjoying themselves in the moment.  They love the things that we all love, but they love the little things just as much.  They laugh at little jokes, they don't worry about why they're doing things, they don't worry about how they'll be judged.  They just act.  That's not saying that they will disregard everything in the future (they're not that stupid), it's just saying that they might as well enjoy the here and now, because before they know it, it'll be gone.  Seems a lot like life if you ask me...

I've heard the phrase, "You have to learn to love the little things."  That's ridiculous.  We all know how to love the little things already, but too often we push it aside, too often we worry about tomorrow, too often ignore these beautiful moments in order to agonize over totally unrelated big things.  Why?  I'm not really sure.  If we can't take the time to smile now because we think we have to figure out how to get a job I think we have our priorities messed up.

Editor's Note: "In Between Days," by Ben Folds (originally by The Cure) just came on shuffle.  "What are the first words, Young William?" you may ask.  Well, here's the answer:
Yesterday i got so old
I felt like i could die
Yesterday i got so old
It made me want to cry
Go on go on
Just walk away
Go on go on
Your choice is made
How perfect is that for what we're talking about?  After that, the song becomes a lot less relevant, but seriously, this is awesome.  Just don't give up on childhood.  We all know that giving up on important things is stupid anyway.

There are people in this world who try to grow up.  They try to act mature, they try to make your decisions for you, and overall they act like their job is to run your life.  They don't allow for experimentation, they don't try things that are scary (Editor's note: The best advice that Young William's mother (an incredible woman) told him was that he should "do hard things."  They make us who we are)

Editor's note: This just came on iTunes.  Start listening.  I promise it's worth it.

At this point, I'd like to tell you about a few of my favorite people.  These people pretty much radiate joy.  The first is involved in everything.  She's in band, choir, runs cross-country and track, does a lot for her church, has incredibly good grades, and is a wonderful sister.  She has a million reasons to be angry and stressed, but I've never seen her seem anything but upbeat and positive.  I think about things that stress me out, compare them to what she has on her plate, and realize that if she can handle everything she does and still be happy, I can probably figure out a way to juggle my few problems and still stay positive.  She loves everything that she does, she finds the little joys in all of it, and she reaps the benefits.  She's a child, both physically and at heart, and she's one of the most mature people that I know.

The second is my barber.  Every time that I go in to get my hair cut, George tells me that he "has more fun at work than anybody," and it's completely true.  He laughs, he jokes, he plays around, he thinks he's a pirate, and he manages to improve the mood of everyone around him.  George is a grandfather, but his childhood never ended and shows no signs of doing so.  He is also one person that I trust as much as anybody.  Keep in mind that I've only known him for two years and that I see him once a month for twenty minutes.  That adds up to a total of eight hours I've spent with the guy.  He's just somebody that can be trusted, somebody that opens up, somebody that I'm sure would love to play with LEGOs if given the opportunity.  Haircutting isn't a job that most people would consider glamorous, but George believes that most people are wrong.  He loves his job, he takes pride in his job, and because of that, I admire him as much as I admire anyone.  If I can't find a job that makes me as happy as George's does for him, I know that I better keep looking.  George loves the little things.  He doesn't worry about what other people think, and he'll be a little kid forever.

Doesn't he just look like a happy man?

Neither of these people are immature in any regards.  They're two of the most mature people that I know.  They don't fit the common definition of maturity, though.  Maturity isn't doing things that we're "supposed to do."  Maturity is having the courage to do things that most people are afraid to do and being able to stay confident in yourself and have pride in what you do.  When you can do these things without having to give second and third thoughts to what the popular opinion is, that's when you have reached maturity.  So maybe we should look at kids a little bit more.  Little kids don't worry about what other people think about them; they just play.  They enjoy themselves.  They take advantage of the moment.  They love the small things.

I'm nineteen years old.  I loved spending my afternoon playing with LEGOs.  I still have an infatuation with trains.  I still believe there's a way that I'll end up playing Major League Baseball.  I'm fairly confident that I'll retire to Port Douglas, Australia.  I know that I'm surrounded by enough good things that there's no reason to ever be sad for more than a little while.

I'm not planning on giving up my childhood anytime soon.  This doesn't mean I'm going to throw temper tantrums and this doesn't meant that I won't be planning for the future, but it does mean that I'm not going to force myself to "outgrow" anything.  Different small joys will come and go and we'll all have different desires, but I don't think it's ever a good idea to do things just because they're "supposed" to happen, or just because it's what we're "supposed" to do, or because it's what other people, or even our friends, tell us it's what they want us to do.  We should love what we love because we love it, just like children do.  There don't need to be secondary consequences.  We may not be children anymore, but that doesn't mean our childhoods are over.  It's logic like that that sucks the fun out of the world.

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.

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?)