This one belonged to the lineup.
I must say. While I hate prognosticating in such a fashion, the Yanks can win it with the bats when they need to, and the arms when they need to. This augurs well for them. Cliche? Yes. but you don't have to do anything new to win a World Series. You just have to do it well.
Oh, and John Smoltz is a Great Pitcher again. I have to wonder if guys who pitched their whole careers in the NL should have asterisks next to their names in the Hall of Fame. Seems more effective than steroids.
~The Sports Maunderer~
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
I can't speak Spanish, but I can speak...
Sometimes, in the Sports Maunderer’s less stilted moments (of which there aren’t many), he wonders why he is sitting there, watching SportsCenter. He wonders why he watches PTI. He wonders why on a perfectly fine day he watches the Yankees play the Rays instead of throwing a disc or a football or, yes, a baseball. There isn’t necessarily a very good answer. Does it matter that he knows Bill Mueller once won a batting title or that Juan Gonzalez won the MVP in 1997 in a blatant robbery from Alex Rodriguez, who batted .358 that year (that’s right, Alex. .358. Remember those days)?
What is the point of this not-very-widely-read blog? At its absolute peak, it might have five or six people read a particular entry. Two or three will comment, likely. Besides the omnipresent possibility of a feminine explosion and/or “Danny-boy” moment, which is worth a post all on its own, there doesn’t seem to be much purpose much of the time.
But it occurs to any thinking individual (all fourteen of them) that in fact, sports is more than exercise for the player or spectacle for the fan. And I don’t mean it is a way of life or some humanist, new-age expression of the inner self struggling for deification. It isn’t even ordained by Xenu. Well, I don’t think anyway. I haven’t gone on the cruise ship with the last order of secrets. I digress.
What is sports? I do not mean what are sports, green-squiggly line be sent to Sheole. I know what they are. I mean what is sports. Let’s have a look.
It has its own sphere of existence. The dichotomy between those who play versus those who do not play is tantamount to those who live in a country versus those who study a country from without. Sometimes the people who don’t live in it can be more objective and bring a superior eye to the whole show. Buster Olney, Tim Kurkjian and Mike Greenberg all bring more wit and intelligence to the realm than do Eric Young (he of the migraine inducing voice), Tino Martinez (he of the sleep-inducing voice) or Rick Sutcliff (he of the suicide inducing voice).
But at the same time, to truly feel the tension of a big moment, some kind of experience helps. Most people who enjoy watching sports have at some point in their life enjoyed playing them. It has different levels of familiarity, and you can be familiar with personal experience or without.
It has its own vocabulary. “Cover Two”. “Infield Fly Rule”. “Charging” versus “Blocking” fouls. Some of the terms even find their way into the quotidian lexicon of those who are so distant from the realm of sport that they have the temerity to ask what roughing the quarterback entails. “Strikeout”, for instance, is a common term from business meetings to relationships. The intelligent reader—and that includes everyone reading, unless The Sports Maunderer has lurking readers who never comment and don't understand the maxim "B equals failure"—can see where this is headed.
Sports is a language. I can’t speak Spanish. But can you speak sport? It might seem trivial but without knowing this particular language, I would have no friends. And it isn’t because badminton is holding The Sports Maunderer and Post Hill together (although, who knows, maybe it is). But sports is the hello language. It’s the “I know nobody in this room… but that guy is wearing a Red Sox jersey. Let’s go make fun of him and see what happens.”
Alright. Bad example.
“I know nobody here… but when B**** F**** throws another interception, I can make a quiet comment about how this is nothing new, and everyone who knows anything about sports will slowly nod their head in agreement. Now we’re practically best friends.”
You can also argue about sports without any need to worry about hurting someone’s feelings or pissing them off. In fact, if you don’t feel comfortable arguing about sports with someone, walk the other way. That friendship/relationship is going nowhere. This is rare, but it happens.
In fact, one could probably blame all of society’s ills on those who are either sports-illiterate or sports-belligerent. Mothers-in-law, bad girlfriends, bullies—if they would just sit down and debate the finer points of the Triangle Offense or Gary Sheffield’s method of catching pop-flies, no one would have to worry about awkward visits, bad dates or getting punched in the mouth.
As a further example, bad fathers-in-law can also come out of this. If you can’t talk sports with a potential father-in-law… make sure he never becomes more than a potential. What are you going to *do* for the rest of your life if not talk sports with your father-in-law for a few minutes each day? Discussing French Butter certainly won’t do. If they hate Derek Jeter and think A-rod is a Ballplayer™, that’s fine. Heck, that’s wonderful. It means they have the sports independence to go against the grain (don’t you love the hypocrisy in that particular cliché? I find it extremely bemusing). It helps if they’re Italian, too, but that helps everything, so let’s put that aside.
Opinionated=fine.
What isn’t fine? Being so attached to Kobe Bryant that one deludes oneself into believing he is a facilitator. Look, Kobe is a fantastic player. He is the best scorer since Jordan and probably one of the five best scorers ever. Maybe even top two among all time shooting guards. But the guy is a selfish player. Period. He played selfishly last year and they lost, so everyone cried “SELFISH SHAME SHAME SHAME SELFISH”. He played selfishly this year but the Lakers were so overwhelmingly talented that it didn’t matter and they won anyway (thanks to a little help from KG’s knee). Anyone who thinks the difference in the two years was Kobe’s “maturation” is a bona fide imbiber of Kobe Kool-Aid. Had Kevin Garnett not gotten injured, the Celtics would have once again shown the world that a team is better than a Kobe. But of course, certain people refuse to admit this. And it isn't even so much their inability to listen to reason that tips you off as to the fact that this is a bad confabulation-buddy. It's the fact that even disagreeing with them could be seen as an attack on their very person. And this is bad. And you never would have known it if it hadn't been for Kobe Bryant. (So he IS good for something other than puppet commercials!)
And there you go. Without the language of sport, you might have gotten stuck with a lousy father-in-law. That would have sucked, wouldn’t it? Now what other language helps you determine something like that, huh? Speaking Farsi sure as heck won’t get you marital clues. And unless you move to Iran (which The Sports Maunderer does not advocate), it won’t help you meet any new people, either.
To get anywhere with another being you have to share a language, and English just isn't good enough. Otherwise, no matter how badly they need your help with calc homework, you’ll get nowhere. Sports, of course, isn’t the only language one can speak to a new acquaintance. But it is certainly a good one. And really, if you can’t maunder about sports with someone, what are you going to do with them? If they aren't impressed by your knowledge of El Duque's career postseason stats, to Sheole with them, too.
~The Sports Maunderer~
What is the point of this not-very-widely-read blog? At its absolute peak, it might have five or six people read a particular entry. Two or three will comment, likely. Besides the omnipresent possibility of a feminine explosion and/or “Danny-boy” moment, which is worth a post all on its own, there doesn’t seem to be much purpose much of the time.
But it occurs to any thinking individual (all fourteen of them) that in fact, sports is more than exercise for the player or spectacle for the fan. And I don’t mean it is a way of life or some humanist, new-age expression of the inner self struggling for deification. It isn’t even ordained by Xenu. Well, I don’t think anyway. I haven’t gone on the cruise ship with the last order of secrets. I digress.
What is sports? I do not mean what are sports, green-squiggly line be sent to Sheole. I know what they are. I mean what is sports. Let’s have a look.
It has its own sphere of existence. The dichotomy between those who play versus those who do not play is tantamount to those who live in a country versus those who study a country from without. Sometimes the people who don’t live in it can be more objective and bring a superior eye to the whole show. Buster Olney, Tim Kurkjian and Mike Greenberg all bring more wit and intelligence to the realm than do Eric Young (he of the migraine inducing voice), Tino Martinez (he of the sleep-inducing voice) or Rick Sutcliff (he of the suicide inducing voice).
But at the same time, to truly feel the tension of a big moment, some kind of experience helps. Most people who enjoy watching sports have at some point in their life enjoyed playing them. It has different levels of familiarity, and you can be familiar with personal experience or without.
It has its own vocabulary. “Cover Two”. “Infield Fly Rule”. “Charging” versus “Blocking” fouls. Some of the terms even find their way into the quotidian lexicon of those who are so distant from the realm of sport that they have the temerity to ask what roughing the quarterback entails. “Strikeout”, for instance, is a common term from business meetings to relationships. The intelligent reader—and that includes everyone reading, unless The Sports Maunderer has lurking readers who never comment and don't understand the maxim "B equals failure"—can see where this is headed.
Sports is a language. I can’t speak Spanish. But can you speak sport? It might seem trivial but without knowing this particular language, I would have no friends. And it isn’t because badminton is holding The Sports Maunderer and Post Hill together (although, who knows, maybe it is). But sports is the hello language. It’s the “I know nobody in this room… but that guy is wearing a Red Sox jersey. Let’s go make fun of him and see what happens.”
Alright. Bad example.
“I know nobody here… but when B**** F**** throws another interception, I can make a quiet comment about how this is nothing new, and everyone who knows anything about sports will slowly nod their head in agreement. Now we’re practically best friends.”
You can also argue about sports without any need to worry about hurting someone’s feelings or pissing them off. In fact, if you don’t feel comfortable arguing about sports with someone, walk the other way. That friendship/relationship is going nowhere. This is rare, but it happens.
In fact, one could probably blame all of society’s ills on those who are either sports-illiterate or sports-belligerent. Mothers-in-law, bad girlfriends, bullies—if they would just sit down and debate the finer points of the Triangle Offense or Gary Sheffield’s method of catching pop-flies, no one would have to worry about awkward visits, bad dates or getting punched in the mouth.
As a further example, bad fathers-in-law can also come out of this. If you can’t talk sports with a potential father-in-law… make sure he never becomes more than a potential. What are you going to *do* for the rest of your life if not talk sports with your father-in-law for a few minutes each day? Discussing French Butter certainly won’t do. If they hate Derek Jeter and think A-rod is a Ballplayer™, that’s fine. Heck, that’s wonderful. It means they have the sports independence to go against the grain (don’t you love the hypocrisy in that particular cliché? I find it extremely bemusing). It helps if they’re Italian, too, but that helps everything, so let’s put that aside.
Opinionated=fine.
What isn’t fine? Being so attached to Kobe Bryant that one deludes oneself into believing he is a facilitator. Look, Kobe is a fantastic player. He is the best scorer since Jordan and probably one of the five best scorers ever. Maybe even top two among all time shooting guards. But the guy is a selfish player. Period. He played selfishly last year and they lost, so everyone cried “SELFISH SHAME SHAME SHAME SELFISH”. He played selfishly this year but the Lakers were so overwhelmingly talented that it didn’t matter and they won anyway (thanks to a little help from KG’s knee). Anyone who thinks the difference in the two years was Kobe’s “maturation” is a bona fide imbiber of Kobe Kool-Aid. Had Kevin Garnett not gotten injured, the Celtics would have once again shown the world that a team is better than a Kobe. But of course, certain people refuse to admit this. And it isn't even so much their inability to listen to reason that tips you off as to the fact that this is a bad confabulation-buddy. It's the fact that even disagreeing with them could be seen as an attack on their very person. And this is bad. And you never would have known it if it hadn't been for Kobe Bryant. (So he IS good for something other than puppet commercials!)
And there you go. Without the language of sport, you might have gotten stuck with a lousy father-in-law. That would have sucked, wouldn’t it? Now what other language helps you determine something like that, huh? Speaking Farsi sure as heck won’t get you marital clues. And unless you move to Iran (which The Sports Maunderer does not advocate), it won’t help you meet any new people, either.
To get anywhere with another being you have to share a language, and English just isn't good enough. Otherwise, no matter how badly they need your help with calc homework, you’ll get nowhere. Sports, of course, isn’t the only language one can speak to a new acquaintance. But it is certainly a good one. And really, if you can’t maunder about sports with someone, what are you going to do with them? If they aren't impressed by your knowledge of El Duque's career postseason stats, to Sheole with them, too.
~The Sports Maunderer~
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