I haven't had a lot of time to blog of late, and for that I apologize.
But you can't really blame me. Every time I've been ready to share my reaction on an important sports event, another one comes up that's even bigger and more exciting. Every Brewer game (with the exception of last night's dud in Pittsburgh) gets more and more dramatic as we approach October, and the football season kicked off with a bevy of intrigue, upsets and fantasy football disappointments (at least for me--thank you very much Mr. Johnson and Mr. Jackson). There's been an Appalachian upset, a Donovan bootleg, a cheating Belichek, a phantom offensive pass interference call (on my fantasy tight end, mind you), and a Brewers game that opened with back-to-back-to-back home runs. The fact is--I couldn't blog. I was too afraid that if I'd leave the tv, I'd miss something else. It was like the scene in Porky's when Pee Wee couldn't see any of the girls in the shower. I didn't want to be stuck behind the fat girl and miss something good. So I stayed right where I was--comfortably in front of the tv. (By the way, any man who hasn't seen Porky's and is therefore confused by the reference needs to rent it immediately. Seriously. Go right now.)
Anyhow, since there's so much to discuss, it seems like a perfect opportunity to ramble...
--I think I finally figured out what was going on with the Crew in Pittsburgh. There had to be some explanation to why every time the Brewers travel to PNC Park they play like...well...like Pittsburgh. I mean, other than Freddy Sanchez (especially considering that Bay is hurt) there is no hitter in that line-up that you would want to add to the Brewers starting 9. And with the way Rickie's getting on base, you could argue against Sanchez as well. But every year, the Brewers travel into Pittsburgh as if they were Brittany Spears heading into a spelling bee. It's that atrocious...
(Host: "Ms. Spears, your word is atrocious."
B: "You mean like Super-fragi-calli-licious-expi-al-atrocious?"
H: "No. I don't mean that at all."
B: "Could you use it in a sentence, please?"
H: "Brittney's parenting skills are atrocious."
B: "OH! I get it. Atrocious. A-T-R-O-W-S-H-I-S. Atrocius."
Anyhow, I've figured out the cause of it all--Yancey Thigpen. You see, I was at that game when Yancey dropped the pass in '95. And I specifically remember closing my eyes and pleading with God to please, please, please give us the division title. You see, the last Packers division title had been in 1972. I was born in 1973. I really, really wanted that game. So I bargained with the Lord. I told him that Pittsburgh could have something else over the next few years, but we in Wisconsin needed that game.
Well, you know the rest. To this day, whenever someone drops anything (a beer that's tossed to them, a bag of peanuts, the remote control) the first thing out of my mouth is "nice hands, Yancey."
But I spoke to the Lord this evening and asked him if we in Wisconsin have indeed now paid our debt for the Yancey game. I reminded him that the Steelers recently won a Super Bowl and that, despite the Pirates thirteen consecutive losing seasons, they at least got rid of Bonds before his head grew to the size of a Steelers helmet. Besides, a 19-41 record at PNC park seems like more than enough payment for the Yancey drop.
Anyhow, to all you unbelievers who doubt--apparently God does listen. To the tune of: Brewers 6, Pirates 1.
--Speaking of steroids, I love the new video game commercial with Shawn Merriman and Stephen Jackson as they go from stadium to stadium taking on blockers and/or tacklers on their way down the field. Despite how cool the commercial is--am I the only one who finds it odd that Merriman is featured on a video game? If he ends up breaking the all-time sacks record someday, will anyone demand that an asterisk be placed by his name? I mean, sure he hit a lot of quarterbacks, but he wouldn't have hit them nearly as hard without the help of steroids. Right?
--And as far as video games go--is there a cooler name than Atari Bigby? If he even has a halfway decent year, the Bigby jersey is as good as purchased. And man, if I could find a way to brainwash my wife to the name "Atari" for our first child. Well, I'd be all in.
--In the 10 year history of our "No Sallies" Fantasy Football league, I have owned my older brother Tim. In 19 previous match-ups, I was 16-3 against him, although he did win the only time we met in the postseason. In each of the two seasons I had lost to him, my team was pretty miserable, including the only season that I did not make the play-offs. Based on the fact that I lost opening week to Tim, I'm seriously considering renaming my team to "Rebuilding Year."
--The greatest line at this year's fantasy draft had to come from our friend Jonny. As the draft completed, he sees his older brother Eric on the phone with his wife, letting her know everyone that he drafted. So Jonny yells, "Guys, guys! This is the part where the giant beer can falls on Eric's head." Classic. And appropriate. I'm already writing a rule for next year that at least 2 hours have to pass before you can share your roster with your spouse...
--Wow. Rickie Weeks. Did I or did I not say that Rickie would be a key ingredient for this team's run? It's nice to have him back. I am a little concerned about his recent yips in the field, but hopefully it's just a Pittsburgh thing.
--Houston just won in the bottom of the 11th. 1 game lead! See, I just peed a little now for the Brewers. Ain't no thing but a chicken wing.
--Finally, with my first child only six weeks from entering the world, I'm really trying to cut back on the cursing I do during Brewers games. (Like tonight when Jenkins rolled into a double play with two on and no out. By the way, the only guys I don't bunt in that situation are Braun and Fielder. If it's anyone else, they're dropping it down and I'm getting a run.) To help with this, I've recently installed a punching bag in my basement. It works pretty well for taking out my frustration. Now I just have to find a way to eliminate the cursing on my way to the bag. Ah well, baby steps...