I admit that I watch a lot of quality television. Some of which (like the late, great "Detroit 1-8-7") is one-and-done stuff. Most of which ("NYPD Blue", "Lost", "Friday Night Lights") is can't miss appointment television that reinforces why I prefer TV to movies.
But I also watch some crappy, crappy shows. One show in particular, I just can't seem to quit. No matter how ridiculous the plot twists, no matter how stupid the cast, no matter how aggravating the storylines, I just can't let this show go.
And no, I'm not talking about "One Tree Hill".
I'm talking about "Big Brother", the worst reality show on television. A show so ridiculously awful, that I can't look away. It is truly television (and society) at the lowest common denominator. A show built on lying, scheming, back-stabbing, doing anything and everything to screw over your fellow houseguests to win $500,000. And if you happen to get into a drunken brawl or three, a couple shouting matches, and screw every female houseguest on camera (or male houseguest, if you're a chick or you're gay), then that's awesome!
(It's not hard to see why I am addicted to this show, in hindsight.)
Today, CBS posted the bios of the cast. Here's my initial reaction to these folks via Big Brother 13 Likeability Poll 1.0.
(Note: cbs.com only has 8 houseguests up. Which seems way low -- usually there's 14 to open the season. My guess? We're getting some former houseguests back on the show in some kind of a "twist" to "shake things up".)
(Update to the Note: I was right. You can vote on former houseguest pairings to return to the game. Looks like three pairs are returning. We'll examine them after the Likeability Poll.)
As always, the lower the number, the more I like the contestant. So you want to be 1 as opposed to 8.
(julie "the chenbot" chen voice) BUT FIRST! Like the contestants, I'll answer the online quiz / application they had to. Because my stated life goal is to be a contestant on this show. Really, who do you know that is better at hanging by a pool, drinking ridiculous amounts of alcohol, and being a smart ass 24/7 than me? I don't know anyone who can combine those three skills, along with a remarkable ability to lose the t-shirt when the sun's out, like I can. I'm gonna get on this show. If only to see the reaction my mom would have. I'm guessing it wouldn't be a "good job kid, and good luck!" reaction.
* Name: Steve.
* Age: 34.
* Hometown: Kansas City.
* Occupation: Reinsurance Specialist for a Large Global Insurance Corporation.
* Three Adjectives that Describe You: laid back, unique, smart ass.
* Favorite Activities: tailgating, drinking poolside, Chiefs football, spending time with the nephew and nieces.
* What Do You Think Will Be the Most Difficult Thing Living Inside the Big Brother House? easy -- having to tolerate the token angry black chick who thinks the world is owed to her. I'm a patient guy, but those chicks annoy the sh*t out of me.
* Strategory For Winning Big Brother: Be the lovable guy that gets along with virtually everyone. Those people tend to last until the top 4 or 5. Then at that point, pray it's not an endurance competition for HoH, and try to outsmart and outwit the remaining contestants. Even if I fail, a run to the top five is pretty solid.
* Which Past Big Brother Cast Members Did You Like the Most? And Least? Most -- Jason from Season 3; Renny from Season 9; Memphis from Season 10; Jeff and Jordan from season 11. Least? Lydia from Season 11; Chima from Season 11; and Jessie from Seasons 9 and 11.
* What Are You Afraid Of? in order: flying (because of heights mostly), earthquakes, and snakes. I avoid all three as much as possible.
* What Is the Accomplishment You Are Most Proud Of? I am the (self-described) King of Useless Trivia. That, and there are no viral sex tapes of me floating around the 'net, that's something to be proud of.
* Finish This Sentence -- My Life's Motto Is ...? "No shoes? No shirt? No problems! Blues? What Blues! Hey, I've forgot 'em! With the sun and the sand, and a drink in my hand, with no bottom, no shoes? No shirt? No problem!" -- Kenny Chesney.
* What Would You Take Into the Big Brother House With You and Why? the biggest bottle imaginable of Polar Ice vodka. I have a feeling I'm gonna need it to deal with certain houseguests.
* What Would You Do If Big Brother Made You Famous? Probably nothing. I am quite comfortable with who I am. Although I would enjoy the D-list celebrity sex. At least until it started to burn when I have to pee.
Here is the initial Likeability Poll:
8. Adam. Reasons for being ranked dead last include:
Negatives?
* calling himself a "born leader". That most assuredly means he's a terrible leader. The great ones don't have to say it themselves.
* naming Ronnie and Rachel as two of his past contestants he liked the most. Ronnie annoyed me, and Rachel really annoyed me.
* he calls himself "cuddly". The dude is a hard-living biker / musician from Jersey. He's most assuredly not "cuddly".
Positives?
* said he'd bring a big bottle of bourbon into the house with him.
Predicted finish: will be one of the first three of these eight houseguests to go home.
7. Porsche. Reasons for being ranked seventh initially include:
Negatives?
* her name is Porsche. Yeah right. If the name on her birth certificate is Porsche, then mine is Eight Inches.
* she's a VIP cocktail waitress. We just had one of those last year (Rachel). It did not go well.
* she likes Natalie, likes how Natalie lied every step of the way and reached the final. Which, to be fair, I did too. However, I hated Natalie ... at least until they got rid of Chima. Then she and the token flaming gay guy whose name I can't remember were actually kinda funny.
Positives?
* her luxury item would be "bikinis -- because I live in them!" Guess it beats (matt foley voice) living in a van down by the river!
Predicted finish: first of these eight to get the boot.
6. Kalia. Reasons for being ranked sixth initially include:
Negatives?
* if Big Brother made her famous, she'd "hang out with Lindsay Lohan". Jesus God above.
* like me, she has an irrational fear of snakes. Unlike me, she checks her bed nightly to make sure there are no snakes present. I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess this chick is single, and when she does find a guy friend to hang around, he ain't getting any. Poor guy.
* she's black, she's a writer, and she describes herself as "dramatic" and "adventurous". Yup, we've found the token angry black chick who thinks the world is owed to her everyone!!! These chicks really make me angry. They're Jesse Jackson in a skirt. And like the Reverend Jackson, they probably want to chop your nuts off.
Positives?
* she's a writer, which appeals to me, since I wish I was one.
Predicted finish: she'll be gone by August 1st.
5. Lawon. Reasons for being ranked fifth initially include:
Negatives?
* he describes himself as "handsomexy", a combination of "handsome and sexy, which I am inside and out". Wow! Not even Dusty is this full of himself.
* he enjoys exercise because it helps keep him "handsomeified". Whoa! . Not even I am this full of myself.
* he would bring in his face clippers as his luxury item so he could always be "camera ready". Damn! I'm calling a Lawon / Porsche hookup within two nights of this game getting underway. Unless Lawon is the token flaming gay guy. Which given his answers, might be the case. Either way, he ain't getting with Kalia because of her fear of "snakes".
Positives?
* I gotta say it. I freaking LOVE cocky, arrogant people who can back it up. We'll see if he can. If he can, there'll be a rapid rise in his standing for Likeability Poll 2.0.
Predicted finish: tough call. If he is the cocky, arrogant prick who can back it up, he might win this thing (ala Dr. Will and Hayden). If he's so full of crap that that's the reason his skin is black? He's out by July 20th. I'll split the difference and say he makes the jury, but he's not top 4.
4. Shelly. Reasons for being ranked fourth include:
Negatives?
* not many. Only b*tch is that she calls herself a "leader, a ring leader, and a team builder". Usually folks who have to say it, aren't.
Positives?
* Her favorite past houseguests are Jeff and Jordan. They're definitely high on my list.
* she and her daughter are addicted to Super Mario and Mario Kart. As someone who nearly flunked out of TCU because he couldn't stop playing Mario Kart (and 007) one semester, sweet! Then again, the drinking and smoking might have affected the GPA more than the video games, but still. Mario Kart addicts, represent!
Predicted finish: 4th out of these 8 houseguests. She seems like someone who is the token "keep dragging her with us, because everybody likes her, and we'll cut her before the final HoH showdown" contestant that Jeff played so well two years ago.
3. Keith. Reasons for being ranked third include:
Negatives?
* he's devoutly religious. He mentions attending church as one of his favorite activities (strike one), he would bring his Bible as a luxury item (strike two), and unless he's lying through his teeth, that means no hookup potential with a female houseguest (strike three). Because dammit, the whole point of ordering (jimmy lennon jr. voice) SHOWTIME!!! After Dark is for the female nudity and occasional drunken brawl. There won't be any with this guy.
Positives?
* he refers to himself by his name. "Keith would ...", "Keith believes". As someone who refers to himself as Stevo in everyday conversation, and who begins any poll or meter with "Steve", I dig this trait. He deserves a Tommy Point for that, in honor of the greatest "drop my own name" name-dropper ever, Tommy Heinsolm.
* he does mention "Playboy Keith", and said Playboy Keith would "work all day, grind all night!". I'm rethinking strike three of the negative aspects of this guy right now. There might be hope for this kid yet!
* refers to himself as "charming, adorable, and kiss ass". If he changed "kiss" to "smart", you'd have the perfect description of me!
Predicted finish: 2nd out of these houseguests. I envision him there at the final vote still in the game, actually. This guy is one to keep your eye on.
2. Dominic. Gotta be honest -- almost any other year, I'd have rated this guy number one, but trust me, I have a huge, I mean a hu-yuge!, Steve-style crush on number one. (Note the lack of the word "man" in front of crush. Oh yeah. Big Brother has picked what, at first glance, looks to be THE coolest chick ever in this show's history. But we'll get to her in a moment). Reasons for being runner up in the first Likeability Poll include:
Negatives?
* none. No, seriously. There's not one damned thing about this guy I don't like based on his bio.
Positives?
* his unhealthy fear is of ... (wait for it ...) STDs! Kid's a playa! You gotta love it. This guy and Porsche are gonna have some solid, quality hook-ups.
* he hates Jessie. Even says "I hated Jessie". Attakid!
* he gets basic Big Brother Strategory 101. He notes that he "doesn't want to be too strong, too soon. Flying under the radar is the key to this game". Hotsie Totsie we got a Yahtzee!
Predicted finish: winner of the whole damned game. I think the houseguests are gonna like this guy slightly more than Keith.
1. Cassi. Reasons for her being the alpha dog in Likeability Poll 1.0 include:
Negatives?
* none. If I have a slight complaint, and this is really nit-picking it ... she needs the diamond nose stud that drives me crazy horny. Other than that, we're looking at perfection. It also doesn't suck that she looks exactly like a tan, brunette Olivia Wilde.
Positives?
* her favorite activity is to "sit around outside and have a few beers". Are you kidding me? Are you f*cking kidding me? Has love finally found me? Godd*mmit, of ALL the years to NOT get picked to be on Big Brother, it WOULD have to be this one. (steven tyler voice) Hell, fire, sage and sashes, f*ck a duck and see what happens!
* she is deathly afraid of heights. So am I chica, hence my refusal to fly.
* her life motto is to "go hard or not at all. Suck everything you can out of life, and live with no regrets". Holy God, is this one gonna be fun to watch play the game.
* she wants lotion as her luxury item because "I need it".
* if Big Brother made her famous, she would "exploit it to the fullest". Sweet.
Predicted finish: 3rd out of these 8 houseguests, and probably 3rd or 4th overall. I can't see her winning the endurance portion of the final HoH competition. And honestly, initial thoughts are she ain't winning the memory portion of the competition either. But this is gonna be one helluva fun ride to watch play out.
Lastly, as for the "former pairings of houseguests", apparently 3 pairs of which will be in this game, I have to say "God no!" to just about all of them. I HATE bringing back previous houseguests. It never works well. Never. They damned near killed the franchise off in season eleven by bringing Jessie back. Nobody other than Evil Dick wants Evil Dick back in our lives. And if you were going to bring back a former pair of houseguests, why not that freak Nakomis and her retarded cowboy brother from season seven? At least they were entertaining. Or James and Chelsia from the winter edition. Creepy as hell, but anytime you can put a porn star and a smoking hot chick together, you at least have potential for entertaining television.
Here are the six pairings up for potential return, and my quick reaction to each of them:
* Brendon and Rachel. Excuse me while I vomit. (long pause ... toilet flushing ...) Whoops, wasn't done yet. (long pause ... toilet flushing ...) Still not feeling all that great. God, who honestly wants to see these two botch another showmance? These two had as much chemistry as Rick Schroder and Kim Delaney on "NYPD Blue", and that pairing was so awful that both actors were off the show within three months of their pairing. I do NOT need to see Rachel and her fake boobs, fake hair, and real acne on my HD television screen again. And Brendon, good God dude, you have less game than I do. Granted, you're not as drop dead handsome as I am, but I'll admit you're in the ballpark. Use your looks and charm and score somebody who isn't a f*cking psychotic b*tch buddy. Trust me, psychotic chicks are no good. They're fun for a night, maybe a weekend, but you want to bail as fast as f*cking possible from a relationship with a psychotic chick.
* Dr. Will and Mike "Boogie". This would be their third season on the show, I believe. They're fun in small doses, so if America lets them in and the other houseguests immediately target them for eviction, I guess I'm ok with this.
* Jeff and Jordan. OK I guess, but I'm not sure they can recreate what made their budding romance so fun to watch, the spontaneity of it, learning new stuff about each other every day. I mean, we're at 2 years now these two have been together. They've already done another reality show in that time frame ("The Amazing Race"). We already know all we're gonna know about these two -- Jeff's the lovable meathead with a heart of gold, Jordan's the lovable sweetheart who couldn't spell "cat" if you spotter her the "a" and the "t". Plus we have Jordan's promise to her mom to never "hook up" on television. Truly tragic. Of all the pairings, I like this one the most, but I'm not exactly enamoured with a return trip for these two.
* Jessie and Natalie. (my former boss at ... sh*t, it's been six years, no need to put the ""'s around an "adjective" anymore ... my former boss at transamerica voice) AW HELL NO! HELL NO! NO! JUST ... (crumbles paper up into a ball and chucks it at my head) HELL NO! *
(* usually this reaction was caused when I'd do or say something she didn't agree with. As anyone reading this that worked with us there can tell you, you heard her scream this phrase at least 3 times a day. And to think people wonder why my mild drinking problem became one step shy of full blown alcoholism. Transamerica! The best job I'll ever have.)
* Evil Dick and Daniele. Well, we know they're gonna get picked. Me personally? If I was on this show, and some half-wit with tats and piercings all over his body woke my ass up at 7am by banging on every pot and pan in the house? He's getting his ass severely beaten. I cannot stand Evil Dick. Although his daughter is pleasant to look at. So I guess if we have to have Dick back in our lives, at least we get some eye candy to go with it.
* Hayden and Enzo. Combined, these two have the IQ of the retarded horse on "Family Guy". But for comedy's sake? Yes. (miss robin voice) Yes, Yes, Yes!!! Bring these two back. Plus, we know Hayden will try to f*ck any chick that draws breath, so at least he brings something to the After Dark episodes.
Since I have to pick three pairings to join the house (there will be 14 total houseguests), I guess I'd go with Jeff and Jordan, Hayden and Enzo, and ... wow ... I really hate the other four pairings ... I guess by default, Dr. Will and Mike "Boogie".
Likeability Poll 2.0 will be out next Friday or Saturday, after the initial episode. Big Brother starts season 13 a week from today (Thursday, July 7th), at 8pm CT. If anyone even attempts to disturb me during the airing of this premiere episode, I'm deleting you from my phone's address book, blocking you on Facebook, and banning you on Twitter. This cast has sick potential. Should be an awesome summer of people watching.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
its time chiefs: officially retire the number of the greatest chief of all
I like to throw around the word "outrage" a lot.
A couple examples of what I like to think is an "outrage", to prove my point:
* I think it is an outrage that cops do not ticket slow vehicles in the passing lane. I often question if these people are mentally retarded. Hello! It's called a "passing lane"! By its very definition you have to be going faster than at least the vehicle next to you! What's so difficult to understand about that?
* I think it is an outrage that college athletes are not allowed to personally profit from their name or their exploits. Let's all hope and pray the Sam Keller / Ed O'Bannon lawsuit about to be heard ends this outrage.
* I believe it is an outrage that the NFL did not force the denver broncos to vacate their two Super Bowl championships when they were proven guilty of cheating to win those championships by circumventing the salary cap. The NCAA requires teams to vacate titles for less outrageous offenses. All the donkeys had to pay for sliding the cash under the table to terrell davis was forfeiting a 5th round pick. Christ, the Patriots had to lose more than that for video-taping opponents, which technically was not illegal at the time they did it.
I could go on all day of things that outrage me. But there is one outrage that stands above all the others. And today, June 29th, the 28th anniversary of the saddest day in Kansas City sports history, I have to once again scream the outrage into print.
And it is this:
It is beyond outrageous that the Kansas City Chiefs have not officially retired Number 37.
Joe Delaney was inducted into the Chiefs Hall of Fame in 2004. He was inducted into life's Hall of Fame (known as heaven) on June 29, 1983. If you don't know the story of Joe Delaney, you should. And I'd say that even if Delaney had played for the denver broncos. This man was a true hero in every sense of the word. That's another word that gets used way too often -- hero. Most people described as a "hero" are anything but. (Exhibit A? Derrick Thomas. Not a hero. Not even close.)
Delaney? Hero.
Delaney played two seasons for the Chiefs. He won the NFL's Rookie of the Year in 1981, rushing for nearly 1,100 yards, making the Pro Bowl, and helping lead the Chiefs to their first winning record since 1973. He ran for nearly 5 yards a carry, and gave Chiefs fans their first reason to hope in a decade. The strike ruined his second season, as he only played in 8 games ... yet he still made the Pro Bowl, led the Chiefs in rushing, and for the first time in a decade, the Chiefs finally had a star to build the franchise around.
But it's not his on-the-field accomplishments that makes not officially retiring Number 37 an outrage -- it's his off the field achievements. Joe Delaney passed away attempting to save three kids from drowning in a swimming hole. By all accounts, Delaney could not swim. Yet he never hesitated to leap into the hole when those three kids ventured too far into the deep end (accounts say the hole dropped from 4 feet to 20 feet in a step or two). His actions saved one life, and nearly saved another (the kid died at the hospital), before Delaney and the third child succumbed to the water.
And yet, the Chiefs have yet to officially retire his jersey number. Number 37.
It makes no freaking sense. The Chiefs have officially retired ten numbers -- 3, 16, 18, 28, 33, 36, 58, 63, 78, and 86. Eight of these, most Chiefs fans know by heart. Jan Stenerud, Len Dawson, Abner Haynes, Emmitt Thomas, Derrick Thomas, Willie Lanier, Bobby Bell, Buck Buchanan.
It's the other two that make Joe Delaney's lack of official recognition so outrageous.
33 -- Stone Johnson. Never heard of him? Not surprising, seeing as how Johnson never played an official down for the Chiefs. He tragically passed away in training camp in 1963, and the Chiefs retired Johnson's number. Seems like the right thing to do.
36 -- Mack Lee Hill. Like Delaney, he played two seasons for the Chiefs. Like Delaney, he went to a predominatly black Southern college (Grambling). I mention this, because the Chiefs were one of the very few teams, either in the AFL or the NFL, to actively scout and draft black college players. Today, that sounds like a trivial thing, but 50 years ago? In the height of the struggle for civil rights and equality? It was a huge deal. (And a tribute to the class, grace, and dignity of the late Lamar Hunt. A 1960s Texas guy without a tinge of racism to him. Sweet.)
Like Delaney, he was a running back, and a damned good one, whose life was tragically cut short at the age of 25. Hill died when surgery to repair a damaged knee went horribly wrong. The Chiefs honored Hill's memory, career, and life by retiring his jersey number, and naming their Rookie of the Year award after Hill.
Both Johnson and Hill are sad stories. Both were promising lives cut short. Both were honored for their achievements by the Chiefs with official number retirements.
And yet, Number 37 is still available for the taking. Officially, any player can come in off the street, request number 37, and have it assigned to them. Shane Banner, our 7th round draft pick this year, wore number 37 in college. Because of the lockout, no jersey numbers have been issued yet for the draft class. But yes, I am damned nervous someone will have 37 assigned to them.
Unofficially, of course, Number 37 is retired. Noone has worn Joe Delaney's number in the 28 years since his passing. And certainly, I hope this continues in 2011 and beyond.
But the unofficial stance begs the obvious question, which is this -- if the Chiefs ownership, front office, coaching staff, and community of players thinks so highly of who Joe Delaney was, both as a player and as a person, that they won't let anyone wear Number 37 in his honor, why in the hell is Number 37 not officially retired then?
It's an outrage. It's an outrage that need to end, damned soon. It should have ended in 1983. It most certainly should have ended in 2004, when Delaney was inducted into the Ring of Honor and Chiefs Hall of Fame. You can make a damned good argument that, at the latest, it should have ended when his bust was created and enshrined in the new Chiefs Hall of Fame on the south side of the stadium last summer.
And until the Chiefs rectify this outrage, this insane, ridiculous slap to the face of a man who embodied everything that we as people should aspire to be, I'll continue to complain about it. Number 37 not being retired is the biggest outrage I can think of. And it's high damned time that outrage gets dealt with.
A couple examples of what I like to think is an "outrage", to prove my point:
* I think it is an outrage that cops do not ticket slow vehicles in the passing lane. I often question if these people are mentally retarded. Hello! It's called a "passing lane"! By its very definition you have to be going faster than at least the vehicle next to you! What's so difficult to understand about that?
* I think it is an outrage that college athletes are not allowed to personally profit from their name or their exploits. Let's all hope and pray the Sam Keller / Ed O'Bannon lawsuit about to be heard ends this outrage.
* I believe it is an outrage that the NFL did not force the denver broncos to vacate their two Super Bowl championships when they were proven guilty of cheating to win those championships by circumventing the salary cap. The NCAA requires teams to vacate titles for less outrageous offenses. All the donkeys had to pay for sliding the cash under the table to terrell davis was forfeiting a 5th round pick. Christ, the Patriots had to lose more than that for video-taping opponents, which technically was not illegal at the time they did it.
I could go on all day of things that outrage me. But there is one outrage that stands above all the others. And today, June 29th, the 28th anniversary of the saddest day in Kansas City sports history, I have to once again scream the outrage into print.
And it is this:
It is beyond outrageous that the Kansas City Chiefs have not officially retired Number 37.
Joe Delaney was inducted into the Chiefs Hall of Fame in 2004. He was inducted into life's Hall of Fame (known as heaven) on June 29, 1983. If you don't know the story of Joe Delaney, you should. And I'd say that even if Delaney had played for the denver broncos. This man was a true hero in every sense of the word. That's another word that gets used way too often -- hero. Most people described as a "hero" are anything but. (Exhibit A? Derrick Thomas. Not a hero. Not even close.)
Delaney? Hero.
Delaney played two seasons for the Chiefs. He won the NFL's Rookie of the Year in 1981, rushing for nearly 1,100 yards, making the Pro Bowl, and helping lead the Chiefs to their first winning record since 1973. He ran for nearly 5 yards a carry, and gave Chiefs fans their first reason to hope in a decade. The strike ruined his second season, as he only played in 8 games ... yet he still made the Pro Bowl, led the Chiefs in rushing, and for the first time in a decade, the Chiefs finally had a star to build the franchise around.
But it's not his on-the-field accomplishments that makes not officially retiring Number 37 an outrage -- it's his off the field achievements. Joe Delaney passed away attempting to save three kids from drowning in a swimming hole. By all accounts, Delaney could not swim. Yet he never hesitated to leap into the hole when those three kids ventured too far into the deep end (accounts say the hole dropped from 4 feet to 20 feet in a step or two). His actions saved one life, and nearly saved another (the kid died at the hospital), before Delaney and the third child succumbed to the water.
And yet, the Chiefs have yet to officially retire his jersey number. Number 37.
It makes no freaking sense. The Chiefs have officially retired ten numbers -- 3, 16, 18, 28, 33, 36, 58, 63, 78, and 86. Eight of these, most Chiefs fans know by heart. Jan Stenerud, Len Dawson, Abner Haynes, Emmitt Thomas, Derrick Thomas, Willie Lanier, Bobby Bell, Buck Buchanan.
It's the other two that make Joe Delaney's lack of official recognition so outrageous.
33 -- Stone Johnson. Never heard of him? Not surprising, seeing as how Johnson never played an official down for the Chiefs. He tragically passed away in training camp in 1963, and the Chiefs retired Johnson's number. Seems like the right thing to do.
36 -- Mack Lee Hill. Like Delaney, he played two seasons for the Chiefs. Like Delaney, he went to a predominatly black Southern college (Grambling). I mention this, because the Chiefs were one of the very few teams, either in the AFL or the NFL, to actively scout and draft black college players. Today, that sounds like a trivial thing, but 50 years ago? In the height of the struggle for civil rights and equality? It was a huge deal. (And a tribute to the class, grace, and dignity of the late Lamar Hunt. A 1960s Texas guy without a tinge of racism to him. Sweet.)
Like Delaney, he was a running back, and a damned good one, whose life was tragically cut short at the age of 25. Hill died when surgery to repair a damaged knee went horribly wrong. The Chiefs honored Hill's memory, career, and life by retiring his jersey number, and naming their Rookie of the Year award after Hill.
Both Johnson and Hill are sad stories. Both were promising lives cut short. Both were honored for their achievements by the Chiefs with official number retirements.
And yet, Number 37 is still available for the taking. Officially, any player can come in off the street, request number 37, and have it assigned to them. Shane Banner, our 7th round draft pick this year, wore number 37 in college. Because of the lockout, no jersey numbers have been issued yet for the draft class. But yes, I am damned nervous someone will have 37 assigned to them.
Unofficially, of course, Number 37 is retired. Noone has worn Joe Delaney's number in the 28 years since his passing. And certainly, I hope this continues in 2011 and beyond.
But the unofficial stance begs the obvious question, which is this -- if the Chiefs ownership, front office, coaching staff, and community of players thinks so highly of who Joe Delaney was, both as a player and as a person, that they won't let anyone wear Number 37 in his honor, why in the hell is Number 37 not officially retired then?
It's an outrage. It's an outrage that need to end, damned soon. It should have ended in 1983. It most certainly should have ended in 2004, when Delaney was inducted into the Ring of Honor and Chiefs Hall of Fame. You can make a damned good argument that, at the latest, it should have ended when his bust was created and enshrined in the new Chiefs Hall of Fame on the south side of the stadium last summer.
And until the Chiefs rectify this outrage, this insane, ridiculous slap to the face of a man who embodied everything that we as people should aspire to be, I'll continue to complain about it. Number 37 not being retired is the biggest outrage I can think of. And it's high damned time that outrage gets dealt with.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
cws 2011: meet the new park, cooler than the old park
Yesterday, I headed up to Omaha with Katie to catch at least a day of the College World Series.
For me, this is tradition. It's one of my favorite things about summer, is spending a day or two up in Omaha, enjoying the weather, enjoying some baseball. The College World Series is a freaking blast, and I highly recommend it to anyone.
Having said that … I’ve been going to this thing for longer than I can remember, and I’ve never experienced a crazy ass day like yesterday was. Here's a look back at one of the weirdest weather days I've ever experienced in my life ...
* Katie and I left for Omaha at 9am. I knew it would take a little longer than usual, because I-29 is under water and shut down, as is Nebraska 2. The only direct route into Omaha was to come up US 75 from Topeka, which is what we did. After flying along at a solid 85mph pace for the first 90 minutes, we were nearly to the Nebraska border ... when we hit the first ridiculous delay of the drive up. Unfortunately, US 75 drops to a two-lane rural road from the Sac and Fox Casino, all the way to Nebraska 2 about 60 miles north. And there's very few truck lanes to get around the deadbeat traffic. Monday, we got stuck behind:
1. a RV that was leading the pack at 55mph, nearly 10mph below the posted speed limit, and
2. a semi that kept trying to get around the RV, only he could never do it.
* Nearly ran out of gas as soon as we crossed the border into Nebraska. I assumed Katie's car was a normal, rational vehicle, and that when the check fuel light came on, you still had a solid couple gallons of gas to play with. At least 50 miles or so. Uuh, no. Turns out her car can go about another 20 miles after the light comes on. Getting a little nervous, we pull into the lovely community of Dawson (population 209), which sparks this exchange:
(katie) 209 people. What a metropolis!
(steve) (really needing to pee) hopefully one of those 209 people operates a f*cking gas station.
Well, none of them did. Thankfully, her car has that GPS stuff built into it, so we found the nearest gas station, veered off a couple miles off of US 75 into the sleepy village of Humboldt, and pulled into the second gas station we saw.
* Which is where something that, to be honest, I don't think I've ever experienced in my life before happened.
It was a full-service station.
I didn't even realize it at first. I opened the driver's door and was prepared to head back to the fuel cap, when this nice elderly gentleman came up and asked me if I wanted to fill it up. I was like "yes, please", and before I know it, he's pumping the gas. Impressed, I headed in to use the bathroom ... and immediately became un-impressed. Let's just say, that toilet ... hell, the entire bathroom, hasn't seen a cleaning agent in at least three decades. There were used motor oil containers tossed in the back. Oh, and the toilet didn't flush. (jose voice) Other than that, yo.
* Filled back up, it was back onto US 75, and like Texas, North Carolina, Vanderbilt, Cal, Virginia, Texas A&M, defending champion South Carolina, and the team we were interested in seeing, your Florida Gators, we were on the road to Omaha!
* thankfully, the RV ducked out of line at some point. But eventually, we had to deal with the semi again. Thankfully, I still drive like a Texan at times, and we flew around that guy ... only to rapidly approach the vehicle in front of him. I kinda, sorta thought it was a cop from a distance, so I slowed down somewhat, but was still going a solid 75. Sure as sh*t, it's a Nebraska highway patrolman. I slam on the brakes, maintain some distance, and hope this guy will forget that "hey, that guy behind me came out of nowhere, I guarantee you he was speeding ..."
This strategory worked brilliantly for about 3 miles. Then, we hit a truck lane. The patrolman pulls over into the right (non-passing lane), and then comes to a stop on the shoulder. Sonofabitch. I know what's coming. (I haven't had a speeding ticket in almost two years. I am long, long overdue for one.)
Only, the cop doesn't turn on the lights and come after me -- he hangs a u-turn across three lanes of traffic to go after some guy that passed us going the other direction. Major danger dodged. (You never want to get a ticket on the going part of a roadie. Then you have to reign it in on the drive home, and that sucks.) This would not be the last time a cop factored into a scary moment on this trip.
* With the cop now gone, it was back to full on 80mph (20 over the speed limit). Surely and steadily, we managed to make it to the southern suburbs about 12:15, about an hour before first pitch for Texas / UNC was scheduled. Still plenty of time to make it, and we're almost to the point where 75 goes from rural highway to full on freeway.
And then we hit that point. Where a solid couple of inches of standing water was across the freeway. Then, I look off to the right, and notice all the farmland is under water. Then I look to the side of the freeway, and notice that there is a massive temporary levee on both sides of 75. Then I look down at the river below, and notice it's almost up to the bottom of the bridge itself.
This ain't good.
* Even more spooky than realizing you're driving in standing water, and that the river has jumped its banks and flooded everything within a mile of it under a few feet of water? Easy. Where 75 usually turns into a freeway, now saw both directions of traffic traveling only on the northbound lanes. When you looked to the left and the southbound lanes, and first it was like "what the hell?" The southbound lanes had just been rebuilt a couple years ago. There was no construction crew(s) around. It made no sense to shut the thing down ... until you looked a little past the freeway, to the hills of Plattsmouth.
And there, the Corps of Engineers was literally digging out every inch of dirt, gravel, sand and clay that they could, were dumping them into huge haulers, and were using the (now closed) south lanes of the freeway to cart the earth they were digging to the riverbank, to strengthen the failing temporary levee walls along the river and along the freeway. It was surreal. The idea ran through my head for a brief second that "this must be what a war zone is like". Everywhere you looked on the south bank were bulldozers, trench digging equipment, and frantic Corps of Engineer workers trying to save the town of Plattsmouth from the (still not even close to cresting) Platte River.
To say nothing of trying to save the last southern artery into Omaha that is still open and not under a couple feet of water.
Anyways, hold the "war zone" thought -- we're coming back to this in a little bit.
* Finally manage to get downtown and head towards the new ballpark. We got totally lucky -- we got the last spot in one of the closest lots to the stadium. Of course, getting into the parking spot assigned for us was interesting. We had to drive up a loading dock ramp, turn the Jeep at a 90 degree angle (and attempt not to drive off the narrow loading dock and totally screw ourselves), and then fit into the supervisor's area of said loading dock. We were lucky here too -- the two folks who parked right before us, had to drive backward after hanging the 90 degree turn. The loading dock itself was maybe 12 feet wide, and there were already a line of cars you were trying to avoid hitting.
Safely, finally, at the College World Series, it was off to buy some GA tickets and enjoy the day.
* And on the walk in, man, not even I could have scripted a more perfect day. It was pushing 90, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, but there was also enough of a breeze that it didn't feel 90. It seemed like a perfect "work on the tan" day. Emphasis on the work "seemed", because man, was that assumption wrong.
* After some ridiculous gate antics by the head of security there, we finally get in, and man, the view as you are standing in center field is absolutely breath-taking. Whoever built the new TD Ameritrade Park, did an outstanding job. You could not have scripted a more perfect setting for baseball.
Until you sat in a seat.
Sweet Jesus, was it hot. They kept the metal bleachers in GA, as opposed to individual seats. (At least they poured concrete as the walkways, instead of more metal like Rosenblatt was.) By the top of the fourth inning, it was decision time. Either kick the feet up, ditch the shirt, and just bake for a while ...
Or realize that Texas was getting its ass kicked, realize there were like 20 bars within a block of the stadium, and instead of frying all day, just fry for the late afternoon / evening game. That seemed sensible. So, that's what we did. Left after Carolina opened the floodgates in the fourth, and headed across the street to a bar named Goodnight's.
* Goodnight's was an interesting place. This was our initial encounter with our server:
(steve) uuh, what do you guys have on tap?
(server) we don't have anything on tap.
(steve) (stunned) really?
(server) yeah, we still serve everything in cans.
(steve) (still stunned) ok ...
I mean, a bar, in the prime location of the bar district (it's the first one you'd hit leaving either the stadium or the Qwest Centre), and they have nothing on tap? Hmm. I should have known this wasn't going to end well, but the next thought through my head wasn't "let's just down this one and find a different bar". Nope, the heat had fried my brain too much. My next thought was "well, if they serve only cans, surely it'll be cheap to drink here for a couple hours".
Oy. I could not have been more wrong.
For starters, this was a "pizza bar". No, seriously, that's the name of the bar -- Goodnight's Pizza Bar. The only food they serve is pizza and salad. Nothing else. I wound up going with the Ranch Club Salad, and immediately regretted it. If you have the appetite of a horse, then this is the place for you! The salad comes in a gigantic salad bowl, and by gigantic, I mean it's the family size bowl. I spent 30 minutes trying to make a dent in this thing, and it still looked untouched.
(The surest sign your portion is insanely large? When you actually ask yourself if “The Voice of Reason” could finish it. And you know what? I don’t think Gregg could have downed either of our salads. You definitely got $9 worth of food. Too bad it’s a freaking bar and a to-go option was out of the question.)
Deciding to just write the salad off as a sunken cost, I order another beer. Seeing as how the Texas / UNC game was only in the eighth inning, I order a third beer, and we ask for the tab.
Between the two of us, we had:
* 3 Miller Lite cans.
* 3 Budweiser cans.
* 2 salads.
Care to guess the tab pre-tip?
It's ok, take your time. Oh, and have a defibrillator ready, because you're going to need it.
$52.93.
$53 f*cking dollars for (literally) a six pack and two salads! Jesus freaking Christ, that is insane! Compare this to my dinner with "The Voice of Reason" on Friday night at Yardhouse:
* 3 draws (a summer shandy, Sammy Summer Ale, and Free State Copperhead Ale) of a non-cheap, non-mass produced domestic quality.
* an order of barbeque bacon sliders.
* an order of chicken lettuce wraps.
Care to guess what that tab came to, for two fancy food items and three artisan draws?
$31.96, according to the receipt in my wallet.
$32 at Yardhouse for damned good food and beer. $53 at Goodnight's for a six pack of crappy domestics and a pile of lettuce.
After leaving a $10 tip (our server was good, we were never hurting for anything, although now I see why ...) and me dropping a few expletives about how expensive this joint was, it was off to stand in the GA line for game two.
(Should probably note: the one good thing about Goodnight's? Hilarious company t-shirts. Amongst the witty sayings:
* "That's What (Goodnight's Logo) Said"
* "Goodnights often become Good Mornings!"
* "A Goodnight is a Terrible Thing to Waste"
* "We Bring Goodnights to Life (Please Use Protection)"
* "Goodnights. Too bad you won't remember most of them."
* "One Goodnight Deserves Another ... and another ... and another ..."
* "Goodnights. It's the mornings that are bad"
* "Goodnights. Always Cuming! ... Street and 13th."
They've got potential. They just need to adjust the prices and invest in some taps. Preferably before I’m back a year from now for CWS 2012.)
* The conditions had changed in the 90 minutes or so we were in Goodnights. When we walked in, it was hot, humid, and sunny. Now, it was still hot, not as humid, and overcast. And getting darker by the moment.
* And yet, not a single drop of rain fell when the first roll of dark clouds made its way past the stadium. In fact, right before first pitch of the night game, the sun came back out, and for a couple minutes, it seemed like it was going to be a perfect evening for baseball.
* Then round two of storm clouds rolled in, but like round one, didn't drop any rain. But it did drop the temperature and kick up a nice breeze.
* I'm guessing the lack of heat inspired some really creative college minds last night. For starters, one of the CWS traditions is the beach balls in between innings. Somehow, despite the prohibition on these things, at least 15-20 make it in each game, and in between innings, they're just flying around GA, at least until they inevitably fall onto the field. Then, one of two things happens. Either (a) a player comes over and "saves" the ball by tossing it back up into the crowd, endearing the player to GA for the rest of his career ... or (b) the mean security nazis come out and grab the ball and destroy it.
Last night though, saw some really creative balls. There were a couple blown up baseballs floating around. There was a humongous rainbow colored beach ball that was bigger than my old dog Priest (and P Diddy wasn't exacly a "lightweight". I still miss my special little guy.) And the piece de resistance?
A gigantic inflatable blue hippo. Yes, a gigantic inflatable blue hippo was being batted around left field GA last night. Epic.
* As to what fueled the creativity, yeah, it might have been the weather change ... but far more likely, it was something else. When I went up to pee before the game, there was a gigantic dump of cigar tobacco in the pisser. Uum, not that I would know what you would replace that with inside the cigar wrapper. Wish I'd known who dumped it -- I haven't smoked in a while.
* The most creative thing though was the Wave. And hear me out on this, because other than "The Voice of Reason", nobody hates the Wave more than me. But this one, was inspired. (That, and the first three innings of this game were tear-inducing boring.)
First, they just did the normal wave, and got it going around the stadium. Impressive, even if it is annoying. But then, the students who started this over in 125 (start of left field GA) took it up a notch.
They decided to do a "slow motion" wave that had the entire stadium laughing ... and participating. It was hilarious.
Then, they followed up slow-mo with a rapid fire wave. Even I was joining in by this point.
Finally, they decided to end it after rapid-fire with "just stay standing with your arms up". The entire stadium was standing up, arms skyward, all breaking out into applause when it was done. Really cool stuff.
Even cooler? That meant the whole stadium was standing when Preston Tucker absolutely tomahawked a pitch into the right field stands for a 3-0 Florida lead. It took an additional day, but that lead held up, eventually.
(Should note: Katie was impressed that there were a lot of Florida fans there, and there were. Me? I was beyond shocked that about 70 percent of the stadium was rooting for Vandy. The CWS crowd almost always favors the underdog unless the Huskers are playing. Florida is the 6 seed, Vandy the 3. Surprised me.)
* What wasn’t cool was the family next to us. Granted, you choose to sit on the aisle, you have to expect to stand every now and then to let someone out. I’m fine with that – I have to be, considering I sit smack dab in the middle of section 132 at Chiefs games, so I always make a point to thank the folks for standing for my bathroom or beer break at games. But the guy next to us and his kids literally were getting up and going somewhere every five minutes. We must have stood and moved to let them out at least 15 times. It was ridiculous.
* Starting in the fifth inning, things really started to change. First, the somewhat dark clouds that had been harmlessly passing over the stadium for the last couple hours, now was giving way to a massive line of dark black clouds to the southwest. You could see it coming. This did not look promising.
Finally, after the top of the sixth, the line had reached downtown. The top of the Woodmen building (Omaha's most famous skyscraper) was disappearing from view, it was so black outside.
* And remember back like three pages ago, when I said that the Plattsmouth levee building was like a war zone? Well, now, it really was a war zone in parts of the town, because the sirens started sounding throughout downtown. (OK, ok, I know I'm weird, and I watched way too many war movies growing up ... but every time the sirens go off, am I the only one who immediately thinks "air raid! We're about to be bombed!" I am? OK, that's cool. But that's what runs through my head when the warning sirens start blaring.)
Meanwhile, in the stadium, it was completely surreal. About half the folks heard the sirens and headed up to the concourse. And yet, they kept playing the game! Katie and I stuck it out, under her theory that "if this was really bad, they'd be stopping the game right now", a point I completely agreed with.
Finally, with two outs and a run in for Vandy in the inning, round two of the sirens bellowing out their warnings began, and this time, folks sprung into action. The grounds crew hauled ass out onto the field to get the tarp set up. The PA guy came on and announced that heavy rains were coming and mentioned something about heavy winds as well. I didn't think much of it. I've lived through thunderstorms before, as all of us have.
So Katie and I leisurely stroll down to the Fan Experience area where most folks were at (because there were tents there in case it started pouring). And about two minutes after we get there, the Emergency Team starts running around ordering people into the Qwest Centre across the street. Some folks hauled ass to get over there. Us? Katie was enjoying a cigarette and I was in flip-flops, I wasn't about to run.
Until we got onto 9th Street. The wind was so strong that it literally was pushing you down the street. So much dirt and sand and dust blew up that Katie couldn’t see for a few minutes after we got into the Qwest Centre. My way of saying -- you can bet your ass that after looking up at the sky one last time, and seeing how pitch black it was, that the sky coupled with the wind got me motivated to run.
* Plus, and this was the real motivator, there wasn't a drop of rain falling. Swirling pitch-black clouds, high winds, and no rain falling? Uuh, shelter please!
* To the Emergency Team's credit, and how they did this I don't know, because apparently nobody thought the storm would be as bad as it wound up being, they somehow got 20,000 plus folks evacuated from an open-air stadium and into a point of safety in less than five minutes. It was like the Bizarro New Orleans. And to the fans credit, nobody got irate, nobody acted like their sh*t didn't stink and they deserved special treatment, nobody acted like the spoiled beauty queen -- everyone was calm and orderly and just followed orders, as it should be. It's why nobody was hurt in this thing last night, an unbelievable feat.
After about twenty minutes, the Emergency folks begin going around to let everyone know that they're free to go, but be careful, the storm wasn't over yet. Again, I can't state enough how professional, competent, and well-handled the Emergency folks did this situation yesterday. Hopefully someone besides me points this out. Those folks were the model of professionalism last night. I’ve rarely been as impressed with cops, firemen, and EMT’s as I was last night.
When we went outside the front doors to look around, unbelievable. It was pouring down rain and hail, and the wind was ridiculous. The hospitality tent set up in front of the Qwest Centre are lying on their side. This thing had four concrete blocks -- not cinder blocks, but the "huge as a Home Depot Homer's bucket slab of concrete" holding them in place, and they were no match for what rolled through town. Tree limbs down everywhere. Up above us on 480, you could see sirens everywhere and no traffic moving. (Turns out the storm blew over a few cars. Now THAT'S a storm! As we'd soon discover ...)
Finally, the rain dies down enough to try to make a break for the car. Seven rain-drenched blocks later, we make it. After somehow backing the thing out of the loading dock and getting it down the ramp (it was so dark outside still that even with the brights on, I couldn't see four feet in front of me, because the lot wasn't lit up), it was off for home.
* The first order of business was figuring out how the hell to get onto 480. It took me about 10 minutes and a couple illegal turns to pull it off, but we managed to get on past the overturned vehicles. Whew.
* Of course, the rain and hail is still falling, there's still some serious gushes of wind blowing around, making the car tough to control, but I was ready to get the hell out of there and get home. Because honestly, for once, my brain was working, and my fear was we couldn't get out.
Keep in mind that 75 had standing water driving in, and that was on a 90 degree cloudless day, the fifth in a row for those in Omaha. Now, with 2 plus inches of rain and hail falling in not even 45 minutes? As Scooby Doo would note, "whroot whroo!"
* For one of the few times on the trip home, we had cell phone reception. Katie’s mom called and was like “just stay there tonight!” My response? “It’s just a little rain, no big deal.” Uuh, as usual, I’m not the brightest bulb in the room.
* We finally made it to the Plattsmouth Bridge on 75 after about 40 minutes. (Normal driving conditions from Dodge and 480, should take maybe 15 minutes tops, 20 if there’s a backup in Bellevue.) And go figure, the bridge was severely flooded. Thankfully, we made it across, but on the sides of the freeway where the standing water was rapidly collecting, there were three cop cars and a Corps of Engineers vehicle analyzing the situation.
Until you see in person just how flooded the whole area is, you can't comprehend what a disaster they're facing when the river crests in a week. If the levees are failing already, and the worst is yet to come? Not good.
(But once you saw what the Corps of Engineers is doing to save Plattsmouth and US 75, the criticism of them is ridiculous. You can possibly b*tch about the Corps upstream for all the water they’re releasing, but in Omaha itself, this is as professional, competent, and “makes total sense to me” effort as is possible at this point. These folks are good. Just let them do their job, and they’ll somehow find a way to make this disaster far less, uuh, disasterous than it should be.)
* We drove the whole way back in the storm. It literally never stopped raining for even a second on the drive back. The worst part though was when a semi would pass you on the other side of the road. The wind and rain was so bad, that it literally blinded you for a few seconds every time they'd pass, that's how much water was being dumped onto the windshield.
* And as if all that wasn't fun enough, lightning! Lightning everywhere!
* Even worse for me anyways? When I take a road trip, I like to enjoy a cigar on the drive, whether they be of a Macanudo quality, or an illegal type of variety. It was pouring down so much rain and it was so tough to simply see and keep the car straight, that I couldn't enjoy what I'd brought. Dammit.
* I have never been happier to see the Kansas state line than I was last night. Because the worst case scenario at that point was staying at one of the casino’s hotels and being 90 minutes from home in the morning.
* Around the time we got to the Sac and Fox Casino, it started hailing again. If Jesus had suddenly appeared in front of me, I would not have been surprised, this weather seemed like an Armageddon type of event.
* We finally manage to make it onto I-70. It took nearly 3 hours to get that far, and let's just say, I was not driving at even a semi-responsible speed for the conditions. I wanted to get home (because I had to work today), and I wanted to get the hell out of this storm.
So then, just as we get onto the Turnpike, lucky break numero dos with a highway patrolman happens. I'm going about 80 in the left lane trying to pass two semis (because again, the wind and water coming off their exhaust was blinding me). I see a vehicle rapidly approaching behind me, so I merge into the center lane. Turns out, its a Kansas highway patrolman.
Who just keeps on flying down the left lane of the Turnpike like it was a sunny 85 degree day. He didn't have the sirens on, there wasn't a single wreck that we passed he was on his way to handle. I'm guessing he was just like us, and wanted to get the hell out of this crap and home as soon as possible.
* Almost made it straight home without stopping. The gas light came on right as we hit the pay plaza before Bonner Springs. This was probably a good thing in hindsight, because I desperately needed to pee, and my nerves were completely shot from driving in this junk for four hours.
* Made it back to Katie's a little after 1am. Yes, it took nearly as long to get there in the morning in ideal driving conditions, as it did to get home in a storm that can best be described as "Katie Horner's Wet Dream". The lesson? You need to get somewhere on a road trip, I'll get you there far sooner than you should.
* Then it was my turn to head home. Normally, it's about a 15 minute drive from Katie's to home. It took me 40 minutes last night, that's how brutal the rain, hail, and especially the wind was once I hit Antioch and Metcalf. The Sonata does not handle as well in gusty conditions as my Blazer did, that's for damned sure.
* Finally walked in the door about 1:45am. I had to get up at 7 for work, and I wasn't even remotely tired, I was way too wired and coming off my nervous high to sleep. So I did what any rational person would do: I popped four Benadryls and made the stiffest vodka concoction I've ever made in my life. Straight vodka, no ice, with just a little splash of Sprite. Finally I managed to pass out about 3am and got a couple hours sleep, but man, what a day.
* So … for what it’s worth, I think we’re headed for an all SEC finale. South Carolina is going to win Bracket B, and get the chance to defend its title. (They’re pounding #1 overall seed Virginia as I finish this.) I think Cal will upset Virginia on Thursday to know the top seed out, and South Carolina will handle the best underdog story in this tourney since UC Irvine four years ago on Friday.
What I’m not sure about, is who wins Bracket A. Vandy will handle UNC tomorrow night. This ain’t the Tar Heels that made the Finals three of the last five years, these guys are running on fumes (just like Texas was this year as well.) But Vandy is the best team in Omaha. Asking Florida to beat them again is asking a lot.
So screw it, I say they do it, and Florida beats South Carolina in three to cap off another epic College World Series. Again, do yourself a favor and go to one the next chance you get. And as long as I am ambulatory and upright, you’ll always have a chance to go with me for a cession or three …
For me, this is tradition. It's one of my favorite things about summer, is spending a day or two up in Omaha, enjoying the weather, enjoying some baseball. The College World Series is a freaking blast, and I highly recommend it to anyone.
Having said that … I’ve been going to this thing for longer than I can remember, and I’ve never experienced a crazy ass day like yesterday was. Here's a look back at one of the weirdest weather days I've ever experienced in my life ...
* Katie and I left for Omaha at 9am. I knew it would take a little longer than usual, because I-29 is under water and shut down, as is Nebraska 2. The only direct route into Omaha was to come up US 75 from Topeka, which is what we did. After flying along at a solid 85mph pace for the first 90 minutes, we were nearly to the Nebraska border ... when we hit the first ridiculous delay of the drive up. Unfortunately, US 75 drops to a two-lane rural road from the Sac and Fox Casino, all the way to Nebraska 2 about 60 miles north. And there's very few truck lanes to get around the deadbeat traffic. Monday, we got stuck behind:
1. a RV that was leading the pack at 55mph, nearly 10mph below the posted speed limit, and
2. a semi that kept trying to get around the RV, only he could never do it.
* Nearly ran out of gas as soon as we crossed the border into Nebraska. I assumed Katie's car was a normal, rational vehicle, and that when the check fuel light came on, you still had a solid couple gallons of gas to play with. At least 50 miles or so. Uuh, no. Turns out her car can go about another 20 miles after the light comes on. Getting a little nervous, we pull into the lovely community of Dawson (population 209), which sparks this exchange:
(katie) 209 people. What a metropolis!
(steve) (really needing to pee) hopefully one of those 209 people operates a f*cking gas station.
Well, none of them did. Thankfully, her car has that GPS stuff built into it, so we found the nearest gas station, veered off a couple miles off of US 75 into the sleepy village of Humboldt, and pulled into the second gas station we saw.
* Which is where something that, to be honest, I don't think I've ever experienced in my life before happened.
It was a full-service station.
I didn't even realize it at first. I opened the driver's door and was prepared to head back to the fuel cap, when this nice elderly gentleman came up and asked me if I wanted to fill it up. I was like "yes, please", and before I know it, he's pumping the gas. Impressed, I headed in to use the bathroom ... and immediately became un-impressed. Let's just say, that toilet ... hell, the entire bathroom, hasn't seen a cleaning agent in at least three decades. There were used motor oil containers tossed in the back. Oh, and the toilet didn't flush. (jose voice) Other than that, yo.
* Filled back up, it was back onto US 75, and like Texas, North Carolina, Vanderbilt, Cal, Virginia, Texas A&M, defending champion South Carolina, and the team we were interested in seeing, your Florida Gators, we were on the road to Omaha!
* thankfully, the RV ducked out of line at some point. But eventually, we had to deal with the semi again. Thankfully, I still drive like a Texan at times, and we flew around that guy ... only to rapidly approach the vehicle in front of him. I kinda, sorta thought it was a cop from a distance, so I slowed down somewhat, but was still going a solid 75. Sure as sh*t, it's a Nebraska highway patrolman. I slam on the brakes, maintain some distance, and hope this guy will forget that "hey, that guy behind me came out of nowhere, I guarantee you he was speeding ..."
This strategory worked brilliantly for about 3 miles. Then, we hit a truck lane. The patrolman pulls over into the right (non-passing lane), and then comes to a stop on the shoulder. Sonofabitch. I know what's coming. (I haven't had a speeding ticket in almost two years. I am long, long overdue for one.)
Only, the cop doesn't turn on the lights and come after me -- he hangs a u-turn across three lanes of traffic to go after some guy that passed us going the other direction. Major danger dodged. (You never want to get a ticket on the going part of a roadie. Then you have to reign it in on the drive home, and that sucks.) This would not be the last time a cop factored into a scary moment on this trip.
* With the cop now gone, it was back to full on 80mph (20 over the speed limit). Surely and steadily, we managed to make it to the southern suburbs about 12:15, about an hour before first pitch for Texas / UNC was scheduled. Still plenty of time to make it, and we're almost to the point where 75 goes from rural highway to full on freeway.
And then we hit that point. Where a solid couple of inches of standing water was across the freeway. Then, I look off to the right, and notice all the farmland is under water. Then I look to the side of the freeway, and notice that there is a massive temporary levee on both sides of 75. Then I look down at the river below, and notice it's almost up to the bottom of the bridge itself.
This ain't good.
* Even more spooky than realizing you're driving in standing water, and that the river has jumped its banks and flooded everything within a mile of it under a few feet of water? Easy. Where 75 usually turns into a freeway, now saw both directions of traffic traveling only on the northbound lanes. When you looked to the left and the southbound lanes, and first it was like "what the hell?" The southbound lanes had just been rebuilt a couple years ago. There was no construction crew(s) around. It made no sense to shut the thing down ... until you looked a little past the freeway, to the hills of Plattsmouth.
And there, the Corps of Engineers was literally digging out every inch of dirt, gravel, sand and clay that they could, were dumping them into huge haulers, and were using the (now closed) south lanes of the freeway to cart the earth they were digging to the riverbank, to strengthen the failing temporary levee walls along the river and along the freeway. It was surreal. The idea ran through my head for a brief second that "this must be what a war zone is like". Everywhere you looked on the south bank were bulldozers, trench digging equipment, and frantic Corps of Engineer workers trying to save the town of Plattsmouth from the (still not even close to cresting) Platte River.
To say nothing of trying to save the last southern artery into Omaha that is still open and not under a couple feet of water.
Anyways, hold the "war zone" thought -- we're coming back to this in a little bit.
* Finally manage to get downtown and head towards the new ballpark. We got totally lucky -- we got the last spot in one of the closest lots to the stadium. Of course, getting into the parking spot assigned for us was interesting. We had to drive up a loading dock ramp, turn the Jeep at a 90 degree angle (and attempt not to drive off the narrow loading dock and totally screw ourselves), and then fit into the supervisor's area of said loading dock. We were lucky here too -- the two folks who parked right before us, had to drive backward after hanging the 90 degree turn. The loading dock itself was maybe 12 feet wide, and there were already a line of cars you were trying to avoid hitting.
Safely, finally, at the College World Series, it was off to buy some GA tickets and enjoy the day.
* And on the walk in, man, not even I could have scripted a more perfect day. It was pushing 90, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, but there was also enough of a breeze that it didn't feel 90. It seemed like a perfect "work on the tan" day. Emphasis on the work "seemed", because man, was that assumption wrong.
* After some ridiculous gate antics by the head of security there, we finally get in, and man, the view as you are standing in center field is absolutely breath-taking. Whoever built the new TD Ameritrade Park, did an outstanding job. You could not have scripted a more perfect setting for baseball.
Until you sat in a seat.
Sweet Jesus, was it hot. They kept the metal bleachers in GA, as opposed to individual seats. (At least they poured concrete as the walkways, instead of more metal like Rosenblatt was.) By the top of the fourth inning, it was decision time. Either kick the feet up, ditch the shirt, and just bake for a while ...
Or realize that Texas was getting its ass kicked, realize there were like 20 bars within a block of the stadium, and instead of frying all day, just fry for the late afternoon / evening game. That seemed sensible. So, that's what we did. Left after Carolina opened the floodgates in the fourth, and headed across the street to a bar named Goodnight's.
* Goodnight's was an interesting place. This was our initial encounter with our server:
(steve) uuh, what do you guys have on tap?
(server) we don't have anything on tap.
(steve) (stunned) really?
(server) yeah, we still serve everything in cans.
(steve) (still stunned) ok ...
I mean, a bar, in the prime location of the bar district (it's the first one you'd hit leaving either the stadium or the Qwest Centre), and they have nothing on tap? Hmm. I should have known this wasn't going to end well, but the next thought through my head wasn't "let's just down this one and find a different bar". Nope, the heat had fried my brain too much. My next thought was "well, if they serve only cans, surely it'll be cheap to drink here for a couple hours".
Oy. I could not have been more wrong.
For starters, this was a "pizza bar". No, seriously, that's the name of the bar -- Goodnight's Pizza Bar. The only food they serve is pizza and salad. Nothing else. I wound up going with the Ranch Club Salad, and immediately regretted it. If you have the appetite of a horse, then this is the place for you! The salad comes in a gigantic salad bowl, and by gigantic, I mean it's the family size bowl. I spent 30 minutes trying to make a dent in this thing, and it still looked untouched.
(The surest sign your portion is insanely large? When you actually ask yourself if “The Voice of Reason” could finish it. And you know what? I don’t think Gregg could have downed either of our salads. You definitely got $9 worth of food. Too bad it’s a freaking bar and a to-go option was out of the question.)
Deciding to just write the salad off as a sunken cost, I order another beer. Seeing as how the Texas / UNC game was only in the eighth inning, I order a third beer, and we ask for the tab.
Between the two of us, we had:
* 3 Miller Lite cans.
* 3 Budweiser cans.
* 2 salads.
Care to guess the tab pre-tip?
It's ok, take your time. Oh, and have a defibrillator ready, because you're going to need it.
$52.93.
$53 f*cking dollars for (literally) a six pack and two salads! Jesus freaking Christ, that is insane! Compare this to my dinner with "The Voice of Reason" on Friday night at Yardhouse:
* 3 draws (a summer shandy, Sammy Summer Ale, and Free State Copperhead Ale) of a non-cheap, non-mass produced domestic quality.
* an order of barbeque bacon sliders.
* an order of chicken lettuce wraps.
Care to guess what that tab came to, for two fancy food items and three artisan draws?
$31.96, according to the receipt in my wallet.
$32 at Yardhouse for damned good food and beer. $53 at Goodnight's for a six pack of crappy domestics and a pile of lettuce.
After leaving a $10 tip (our server was good, we were never hurting for anything, although now I see why ...) and me dropping a few expletives about how expensive this joint was, it was off to stand in the GA line for game two.
(Should probably note: the one good thing about Goodnight's? Hilarious company t-shirts. Amongst the witty sayings:
* "That's What (Goodnight's Logo) Said"
* "Goodnights often become Good Mornings!"
* "A Goodnight is a Terrible Thing to Waste"
* "We Bring Goodnights to Life (Please Use Protection)"
* "Goodnights. Too bad you won't remember most of them."
* "One Goodnight Deserves Another ... and another ... and another ..."
* "Goodnights. It's the mornings that are bad"
* "Goodnights. Always Cuming! ... Street and 13th."
They've got potential. They just need to adjust the prices and invest in some taps. Preferably before I’m back a year from now for CWS 2012.)
* The conditions had changed in the 90 minutes or so we were in Goodnights. When we walked in, it was hot, humid, and sunny. Now, it was still hot, not as humid, and overcast. And getting darker by the moment.
* And yet, not a single drop of rain fell when the first roll of dark clouds made its way past the stadium. In fact, right before first pitch of the night game, the sun came back out, and for a couple minutes, it seemed like it was going to be a perfect evening for baseball.
* Then round two of storm clouds rolled in, but like round one, didn't drop any rain. But it did drop the temperature and kick up a nice breeze.
* I'm guessing the lack of heat inspired some really creative college minds last night. For starters, one of the CWS traditions is the beach balls in between innings. Somehow, despite the prohibition on these things, at least 15-20 make it in each game, and in between innings, they're just flying around GA, at least until they inevitably fall onto the field. Then, one of two things happens. Either (a) a player comes over and "saves" the ball by tossing it back up into the crowd, endearing the player to GA for the rest of his career ... or (b) the mean security nazis come out and grab the ball and destroy it.
Last night though, saw some really creative balls. There were a couple blown up baseballs floating around. There was a humongous rainbow colored beach ball that was bigger than my old dog Priest (and P Diddy wasn't exacly a "lightweight". I still miss my special little guy.) And the piece de resistance?
A gigantic inflatable blue hippo. Yes, a gigantic inflatable blue hippo was being batted around left field GA last night. Epic.
* As to what fueled the creativity, yeah, it might have been the weather change ... but far more likely, it was something else. When I went up to pee before the game, there was a gigantic dump of cigar tobacco in the pisser. Uum, not that I would know what you would replace that with inside the cigar wrapper. Wish I'd known who dumped it -- I haven't smoked in a while.
* The most creative thing though was the Wave. And hear me out on this, because other than "The Voice of Reason", nobody hates the Wave more than me. But this one, was inspired. (That, and the first three innings of this game were tear-inducing boring.)
First, they just did the normal wave, and got it going around the stadium. Impressive, even if it is annoying. But then, the students who started this over in 125 (start of left field GA) took it up a notch.
They decided to do a "slow motion" wave that had the entire stadium laughing ... and participating. It was hilarious.
Then, they followed up slow-mo with a rapid fire wave. Even I was joining in by this point.
Finally, they decided to end it after rapid-fire with "just stay standing with your arms up". The entire stadium was standing up, arms skyward, all breaking out into applause when it was done. Really cool stuff.
Even cooler? That meant the whole stadium was standing when Preston Tucker absolutely tomahawked a pitch into the right field stands for a 3-0 Florida lead. It took an additional day, but that lead held up, eventually.
(Should note: Katie was impressed that there were a lot of Florida fans there, and there were. Me? I was beyond shocked that about 70 percent of the stadium was rooting for Vandy. The CWS crowd almost always favors the underdog unless the Huskers are playing. Florida is the 6 seed, Vandy the 3. Surprised me.)
* What wasn’t cool was the family next to us. Granted, you choose to sit on the aisle, you have to expect to stand every now and then to let someone out. I’m fine with that – I have to be, considering I sit smack dab in the middle of section 132 at Chiefs games, so I always make a point to thank the folks for standing for my bathroom or beer break at games. But the guy next to us and his kids literally were getting up and going somewhere every five minutes. We must have stood and moved to let them out at least 15 times. It was ridiculous.
* Starting in the fifth inning, things really started to change. First, the somewhat dark clouds that had been harmlessly passing over the stadium for the last couple hours, now was giving way to a massive line of dark black clouds to the southwest. You could see it coming. This did not look promising.
Finally, after the top of the sixth, the line had reached downtown. The top of the Woodmen building (Omaha's most famous skyscraper) was disappearing from view, it was so black outside.
* And remember back like three pages ago, when I said that the Plattsmouth levee building was like a war zone? Well, now, it really was a war zone in parts of the town, because the sirens started sounding throughout downtown. (OK, ok, I know I'm weird, and I watched way too many war movies growing up ... but every time the sirens go off, am I the only one who immediately thinks "air raid! We're about to be bombed!" I am? OK, that's cool. But that's what runs through my head when the warning sirens start blaring.)
Meanwhile, in the stadium, it was completely surreal. About half the folks heard the sirens and headed up to the concourse. And yet, they kept playing the game! Katie and I stuck it out, under her theory that "if this was really bad, they'd be stopping the game right now", a point I completely agreed with.
Finally, with two outs and a run in for Vandy in the inning, round two of the sirens bellowing out their warnings began, and this time, folks sprung into action. The grounds crew hauled ass out onto the field to get the tarp set up. The PA guy came on and announced that heavy rains were coming and mentioned something about heavy winds as well. I didn't think much of it. I've lived through thunderstorms before, as all of us have.
So Katie and I leisurely stroll down to the Fan Experience area where most folks were at (because there were tents there in case it started pouring). And about two minutes after we get there, the Emergency Team starts running around ordering people into the Qwest Centre across the street. Some folks hauled ass to get over there. Us? Katie was enjoying a cigarette and I was in flip-flops, I wasn't about to run.
Until we got onto 9th Street. The wind was so strong that it literally was pushing you down the street. So much dirt and sand and dust blew up that Katie couldn’t see for a few minutes after we got into the Qwest Centre. My way of saying -- you can bet your ass that after looking up at the sky one last time, and seeing how pitch black it was, that the sky coupled with the wind got me motivated to run.
* Plus, and this was the real motivator, there wasn't a drop of rain falling. Swirling pitch-black clouds, high winds, and no rain falling? Uuh, shelter please!
* To the Emergency Team's credit, and how they did this I don't know, because apparently nobody thought the storm would be as bad as it wound up being, they somehow got 20,000 plus folks evacuated from an open-air stadium and into a point of safety in less than five minutes. It was like the Bizarro New Orleans. And to the fans credit, nobody got irate, nobody acted like their sh*t didn't stink and they deserved special treatment, nobody acted like the spoiled beauty queen -- everyone was calm and orderly and just followed orders, as it should be. It's why nobody was hurt in this thing last night, an unbelievable feat.
After about twenty minutes, the Emergency folks begin going around to let everyone know that they're free to go, but be careful, the storm wasn't over yet. Again, I can't state enough how professional, competent, and well-handled the Emergency folks did this situation yesterday. Hopefully someone besides me points this out. Those folks were the model of professionalism last night. I’ve rarely been as impressed with cops, firemen, and EMT’s as I was last night.
When we went outside the front doors to look around, unbelievable. It was pouring down rain and hail, and the wind was ridiculous. The hospitality tent set up in front of the Qwest Centre are lying on their side. This thing had four concrete blocks -- not cinder blocks, but the "huge as a Home Depot Homer's bucket slab of concrete" holding them in place, and they were no match for what rolled through town. Tree limbs down everywhere. Up above us on 480, you could see sirens everywhere and no traffic moving. (Turns out the storm blew over a few cars. Now THAT'S a storm! As we'd soon discover ...)
Finally, the rain dies down enough to try to make a break for the car. Seven rain-drenched blocks later, we make it. After somehow backing the thing out of the loading dock and getting it down the ramp (it was so dark outside still that even with the brights on, I couldn't see four feet in front of me, because the lot wasn't lit up), it was off for home.
* The first order of business was figuring out how the hell to get onto 480. It took me about 10 minutes and a couple illegal turns to pull it off, but we managed to get on past the overturned vehicles. Whew.
* Of course, the rain and hail is still falling, there's still some serious gushes of wind blowing around, making the car tough to control, but I was ready to get the hell out of there and get home. Because honestly, for once, my brain was working, and my fear was we couldn't get out.
Keep in mind that 75 had standing water driving in, and that was on a 90 degree cloudless day, the fifth in a row for those in Omaha. Now, with 2 plus inches of rain and hail falling in not even 45 minutes? As Scooby Doo would note, "whroot whroo!"
* For one of the few times on the trip home, we had cell phone reception. Katie’s mom called and was like “just stay there tonight!” My response? “It’s just a little rain, no big deal.” Uuh, as usual, I’m not the brightest bulb in the room.
* We finally made it to the Plattsmouth Bridge on 75 after about 40 minutes. (Normal driving conditions from Dodge and 480, should take maybe 15 minutes tops, 20 if there’s a backup in Bellevue.) And go figure, the bridge was severely flooded. Thankfully, we made it across, but on the sides of the freeway where the standing water was rapidly collecting, there were three cop cars and a Corps of Engineers vehicle analyzing the situation.
Until you see in person just how flooded the whole area is, you can't comprehend what a disaster they're facing when the river crests in a week. If the levees are failing already, and the worst is yet to come? Not good.
(But once you saw what the Corps of Engineers is doing to save Plattsmouth and US 75, the criticism of them is ridiculous. You can possibly b*tch about the Corps upstream for all the water they’re releasing, but in Omaha itself, this is as professional, competent, and “makes total sense to me” effort as is possible at this point. These folks are good. Just let them do their job, and they’ll somehow find a way to make this disaster far less, uuh, disasterous than it should be.)
* We drove the whole way back in the storm. It literally never stopped raining for even a second on the drive back. The worst part though was when a semi would pass you on the other side of the road. The wind and rain was so bad, that it literally blinded you for a few seconds every time they'd pass, that's how much water was being dumped onto the windshield.
* And as if all that wasn't fun enough, lightning! Lightning everywhere!
* Even worse for me anyways? When I take a road trip, I like to enjoy a cigar on the drive, whether they be of a Macanudo quality, or an illegal type of variety. It was pouring down so much rain and it was so tough to simply see and keep the car straight, that I couldn't enjoy what I'd brought. Dammit.
* I have never been happier to see the Kansas state line than I was last night. Because the worst case scenario at that point was staying at one of the casino’s hotels and being 90 minutes from home in the morning.
* Around the time we got to the Sac and Fox Casino, it started hailing again. If Jesus had suddenly appeared in front of me, I would not have been surprised, this weather seemed like an Armageddon type of event.
* We finally manage to make it onto I-70. It took nearly 3 hours to get that far, and let's just say, I was not driving at even a semi-responsible speed for the conditions. I wanted to get home (because I had to work today), and I wanted to get the hell out of this storm.
So then, just as we get onto the Turnpike, lucky break numero dos with a highway patrolman happens. I'm going about 80 in the left lane trying to pass two semis (because again, the wind and water coming off their exhaust was blinding me). I see a vehicle rapidly approaching behind me, so I merge into the center lane. Turns out, its a Kansas highway patrolman.
Who just keeps on flying down the left lane of the Turnpike like it was a sunny 85 degree day. He didn't have the sirens on, there wasn't a single wreck that we passed he was on his way to handle. I'm guessing he was just like us, and wanted to get the hell out of this crap and home as soon as possible.
* Almost made it straight home without stopping. The gas light came on right as we hit the pay plaza before Bonner Springs. This was probably a good thing in hindsight, because I desperately needed to pee, and my nerves were completely shot from driving in this junk for four hours.
* Made it back to Katie's a little after 1am. Yes, it took nearly as long to get there in the morning in ideal driving conditions, as it did to get home in a storm that can best be described as "Katie Horner's Wet Dream". The lesson? You need to get somewhere on a road trip, I'll get you there far sooner than you should.
* Then it was my turn to head home. Normally, it's about a 15 minute drive from Katie's to home. It took me 40 minutes last night, that's how brutal the rain, hail, and especially the wind was once I hit Antioch and Metcalf. The Sonata does not handle as well in gusty conditions as my Blazer did, that's for damned sure.
* Finally walked in the door about 1:45am. I had to get up at 7 for work, and I wasn't even remotely tired, I was way too wired and coming off my nervous high to sleep. So I did what any rational person would do: I popped four Benadryls and made the stiffest vodka concoction I've ever made in my life. Straight vodka, no ice, with just a little splash of Sprite. Finally I managed to pass out about 3am and got a couple hours sleep, but man, what a day.
* So … for what it’s worth, I think we’re headed for an all SEC finale. South Carolina is going to win Bracket B, and get the chance to defend its title. (They’re pounding #1 overall seed Virginia as I finish this.) I think Cal will upset Virginia on Thursday to know the top seed out, and South Carolina will handle the best underdog story in this tourney since UC Irvine four years ago on Friday.
What I’m not sure about, is who wins Bracket A. Vandy will handle UNC tomorrow night. This ain’t the Tar Heels that made the Finals three of the last five years, these guys are running on fumes (just like Texas was this year as well.) But Vandy is the best team in Omaha. Asking Florida to beat them again is asking a lot.
So screw it, I say they do it, and Florida beats South Carolina in three to cap off another epic College World Series. Again, do yourself a favor and go to one the next chance you get. And as long as I am ambulatory and upright, you’ll always have a chance to go with me for a cession or three …
Monday, June 13, 2011
(etta james voice) at last!
sk: 6/13, late in the evening, I finally found an intro track:
"If the love that I've felt for you's gone.
If the river I've cried ain't that long,
Then I'm wrong, yeah I'm wrong, this ain't a love song;
If the pain that I'm feeling so strong,
Ain't the reason I'm holding on,
Then I'm wrong, yeah I'm wrong, this ain't a love song ...
(LaKisha Jones version from "Idol's" finest hour ...)
---------------------
Flash back with me for a moment. To a fun-filled time of my life also known as "my junior year of college". For so many reasons, this was the funnest year of my life. I turned 21. It was the "summer of oppressive heat"*, when the grass was dead by mid June, and the temperature was still in triple digits in early October.
(*: the National Weather Service site notes that 1998 saw the following records get smashed in North Texas:
* warmest April to July ever -- 77.65 degrees average temperature.
* average July high temperature of 101.2 degrees. (stevo voice) Suh-weet!
* driest April to July ever -- 4.46 inches of rain (total).
* 29 consecutive days above 100 (June 23 to August 3).
* 56 total days above 100 degreees.
* 94 total days above 90 degrees.
* 14 consecutive days where the temperature never dropped below 80 (July 19 to August 1).
* 39 total days where the temperature never dropped below 80.
* a grand total of 0.46 inches of rain fell between June 12 and September 10.
Some people might call that "insanely hot", "hellish conditions", and would immediately invoke Steve Rule 34 to describe anyone who wants to live in those conditions. Me? I call it "paradise". Except not (meatloaf voice) "by the dashboard lights" ... )
Cue March 5, 1998. Spring is beginning to arrive in the Metroplex. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, me and Frank are blowing off class to sit outside with a cooler full of beer, life is good. Spring break for me is still a week away, but for two of my best friends up in Lawrence, it was already here. So my good buddies Gregg and Jasson came down to visit for a few days, under the proven "hey, it's warmer where Steve is than it is where we are!" theory that you just couldn't argue with.
That Thursday night, we headed over to the West End. Had some dinner at the Hard Rock. And then, for reasons that not even I can understand 13 years later, we paid to attend a basketball game.
Not just any basketball game -- it was a battle of the two worst teams in the League. The Mavericks, entering the game with 10 wins (and already having posted losing streaks of both 10 and 15 games -- impressive!!!) would face off against the Clippers, who somehow entered the game as the "better team" with 12 wins (and already having posted losing streaks of 7, 8, and 9 games -- really impressive!!!). You want to talk about star power? The current Heat got nothing on the Mavs and Clips back then! Check out this stud talent that graced Reunion Arena with it's presence that night:
Clips Starting Lineup: SF Lamond Murray, PF Rodney Rogers, C Ike Austin, PG Darrick Martin, SG Eric Piatkowski.
Mavs Starting Lineup: SF Cedric Ceballos, PF A.C. Green, C Eric Riley, SG / SF Michael Finley, PG Khalid Reeves.
My God, that's ... that's exactly zero future Hall of Famers on the floor.
But the benches, I mean, what a wealth of talent that every team no doubt was beating down the doors at the trading deadline to get ahold of:
Clips Reserves: PF Maurice Taylor, SG James Robinson, C Keith Closs, PG Pooh Richardson, SG Charles Smith.
Mavs Reserves: C Chris Antsey, PF Martin Muursepp, SG Hubert Davis, SG Bubba Wells, PG Erick Strickland.
Holy cow, that's ... that's ten really sh*tty players.
Yes, the three of us paid premium scalpers prices to attend this battle of the beasts. (I believe we paid $15 / ticket on a $65 face value lower level ticket, with a parking pass thrown in. And you know what? I still argue we overpaid. Although the most priceless expression might have been on the scalper’s face. He seemed genuinely moved that someone – anyone! – was buying tickets for this game.)
The Mavs somehow won this game (119-109 final, yet more proof that even the worst imaginable game the League has to offer, and trust me, this was eight levels of awful, is still so superior to 97.6% of what the college game has to offer, that it's obscene). And though there was no way to know it at the time, this one game, was the catalyst to the championship the Mavs just earned. Don't believe me? Fine, here we go.
First, a little more background.
The ONLY local sports team that was terrible while I was in college ... well, ok, was my school's football program, which culminated an incredible fall from co-Southwest Conference champs the year before I arrived, to needing to beat our rival SMU on the final game of the season my junior year to avoid an 0-12 campaign. (We won 13-10 in overtime, and you're damned right all 14 of us in attendance rushed the field!) But other than Horned Frog football, nothing was worse than Dallas Mavericks basketball.
The Rangers won the division three of my four years there. As did the Cowboys, and they tacked on a Super Bowl championship to boot. The Stars made the playoffs three times, won the division twice, and would win the Stanley Cup right after I graduated. TCU basketball was a tournament staple under Billy Tubbs. (They were the four seed in 1998.) TCU baseball was (and still is) a threat to reach Omaha every June (although sadly, they won't be there next week when I hope to make the annual trek up for a couple days of baseball in the sun.)
Then ... there were the Mavs. As Wikipedia so politely puts it:
"The 1990s were known as the "dark ages". They never reached the playoffs from 1991-2000, bottoming out with an 11-71 mark in 1992-1993, and a 13-69 mark the following season." (Which meant the 1997-1998 Mavs we paid to watch, were actually an improvement over the prior seasons! At 10-53 entering this contest, they were "going in the right direction!" Oy.)
The Mavs couldn't catch a break. They draft the "Three J's" in Jason Kidd, Jamal Mashburn, and Jimmy Jackson ... only to see Mashburn never stay healthy, Jackson get into a ridiculous feud with Jason Kidd over who had first dibs on banging Toni Braxton**, and Kidd eventually demanding (and receiving) a trade to get the hell away from the losing and the drama. They cycled through horrific coaches like I cycle through handles of vodka: early and often. They gave Quinn Buckner his first (and only) head coaching job, where he was one-and-done after that previously mentioned 11 win season. They replaced him with Jim Cleamons, who was actually worse, believe it or not. (Cleamons was fired early in the 1997-1998 season). They drug Dick Motta out of whatever retirement community he was relaxing in to oversee the rebuilding effort (epic fail).
(**: I know she's the star of one of the "worst of the worst" in reality television now, but good God, was Toni Braxton hot in her day or what? My Lord, she was smoking hot. I totally get why neither guy wanted to give an inch or eight over claiming her.)
And the draft picks were even worse. They used first rounders on Tony Dumas, Chris Antsey, Chris Gatling. They couldn't nail a second rounder to save their lives. Toss in the founder of the club being so disallusioned by the losing that he sold out for pennies on the dollar to Ross Perot's kid***, and you could make a damned good argument that the worst team in the League, if not in all professional sports, entering the lockout-shortened 1999 season was the Dallas Mavericks.
(***: it's not possible to put into words how horrific the Ross Perot Jr. era was. He made Rachel Phelps from "Major League" look like a top flight owner. Thankfully, Donald Carter loved his old team so much (and still had enough ownership stake in it), that he was able to marshall enough public pressure on Perot Jr. to sell out to some internet broadcasting hot shot named Mark Cuban in 1999. Hope that helps understand why Cuban was so insistent on Don Carter accepting the O'Brien Trophy last night.)
Culminating with what had to be rock bottom that magical night in March 1998, when they hauled the corpse of Don Nelson off the beaches of Maui, gave him the keys to the franchise, and watched Dick Motta, who was just there for Perot Jr's paycheck and coached like it, do battle with Bill Fitch, who was just there for Donald Sterling's paycheck and coached like it.
It was brutally awful. It was utterly unwatchable.
And yet, that game changed the course of a franchise. Because the win that night, an entertaining, up-and-down the court, defense be damned effort, convinced Don Nelson (who, to the surprise of no one, eventually found his way to the bench) to play that style the rest of the year. It led the Mavs to close 9-9, allowing the Clippers to edge out the Mavericks for the top lottery odds. (And the Clips won said lottery.)
That offseason, Cuban stepped up to buy up majority ownership of the Mavericks, immediately turning the Mavericks from a cheap-skate, "cut every corner" organization to one that was, in the worn-out words of Randy Jackson, "in it to win it!" Cuban (and Stars owner Tom Hicks) stepped up and financed the new American Airlines Centre****, that opened in 2001.
(****: I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Centre is much cooler than Center. The Canadians can’t beat us at much, but they whip our ass when it comes to naming an arena. Excuse me, Centre.)
But most importantly, that late winning streak in 1998 that the victory over the Clippers sparked, gave the Clips the number one pick in the 1998 NBA Draft. The Clippers, without an obvious choice at number one, took a gamble on Michael Olowokandi. The Mavericks actually slid all the way to sixth when the lottery took place, and at six, they drafted Robert "Tractor" Traylor from Michigan, then immediately traded him to Milwaukee for the rights to some unknown German product by the name of Dirk Nowitzki, as well as guard Pat Garrity. Even more amazingly, they shipped Pat Garrity off to the Phoenix Suns for some unknown Canadian product by the name of Steve Nash.
Bam. In one offseason, the Mavericks were reborn. They won 50 games in 2000, and have won at least 50 games every season since then (tying the Spurs for the longest current mark in the League at 12.) They finally poked a couple holes in the glass ceiling in 2006, reaching the Finals for the first time in franchise history. And then, after the Crime of 2006, the humiliation of 2007, the collapse of 2009, and the annihilation of 2010, this unlikely squad of grizzled veterans and one plucky youngster set aside a frustrating regular season, ignored everything the so-called "experts" had to say about them, and won the final game of the NBA season Sunday night in Miami, 105-95, in a game that was really never in doubt from halftime onward.
I watched last night on "the deck", with a few fellow Dallas transplants and fans. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Here's my final thoughts on the best NBA Finals of my lifetime, an event that was made possible beginning with that warm March evening 13 years ago.
* The obvious reaction this morning will be to say that the Heat "choked", that LeBron "choked", that D Wade "choked". It's like the ghost of Allen Ludden has entered the room and is constantly saying "the password is, choked". And I could not disagree stronger with that sentiment.
For starters, to "choke", you have to whiz away a lead. The Heat did not lead the entire second half outside of one brief second very early on, and never got closer than four points in the 4th quarter. And they only got that close once. No, last night wasn't about Miami "choking", it was about Dallas "winning", with incredible perimeter shooting, solid coaching (Carlisle is so freaking underrated. He put the clown suit on Spoelstra and was honking his nose, he so outcoached him in this series), and (for the most part) poise in the heat of the moment.
Last night was not a "choke", it was a "win". One team simply wanted it more.
Now, you can argue game two was a "choke", and game four, and game five, and very nearly game three as well. But last night was not a "choke".
* I am very curious to know what the NBA would have done had there been a game seven regarding suspensions for the Chalmers / Haslem / Stevenson incident. The only moment of last night's game that I did not enjoy, was poor Jeff Van Gundy having to relive the 1997 flameout thanks to the brawl in Miami in game five. I truly believe the 1996-1997 Knicks would have taken Chicago to seven, if not won it in six. That team was the best Knicks team of the Jordan era. (They were the only team to even split a series with Chicago that year, and they took 3 of 4, including the last game of the season, a prime-time ass-whipping at the United Centre that might have been my favorite game of the Ewing years.) Sadly, thanks to the infamous brawl that everyone remembers mostly for Jeff Van Gundy hanging on Alonzo Mourning's leg like a chihuahua, we'll never know.
(My guess? Van Gundy and Jackson were right, and the NBA wouldn't have suspended anyone. Because if this thing had reached a game seven, there isn't a shot in hell David Stern would want a stupid shoving match that did no harm in the end, to alter the outcome of a championship. And you know what? Good for Stern if that's the case. Too bad he didn't share that sentiment fourteen years ago when it involved the Knicks, because God forbid anyone stand in His Airness' way of a fifth title. But at least Stern has learned from his mistakes, and that's what counts, I guess.)
* From the "stuff only Stevo would notice" department: that beautiful looking blonde sitting next to Mark Anthony last night behind the Heat's bench, was most definitely not Jennifer Lopez.
* I know it's early, and I know we've still got a looming lockout that threatens to destroy all the positive energy this postseason has brought to the League ... but come on, ESPN / ABC. There's only one acceptable replacement for Mark Jackson in the booth. Bring back Bill Walton! It's a crime to have to listen to Walton broadcast Kings games on local TV, instead of being on the national stage where he belongs.
(Oh, and while I'm at it, TNT? Can you PLEASE fire Reggie Miller already? The guy sounds less intelligent than me halfway through a 311 concert, and the last one of those I attended, a "t-shirt worn as a turban" was involved. Please, TNT guys, Fire Reggie Miller!)
* Could not be happier for Mark Cuban, who is the epitome of what sports ownership should be. Like I noted on Facebook, what I wouldn't give for one of the teams I love, to have an owner like him. (And please Chiefs fans, spare me the "Clark Hunt seems ok" bullsh*t. Any owner who uses the lockout (that he and his fellow owners started) to save a couple bucks by hacking non-player employee salaries during it, is a cheap-ass weasel. Clark has revealed his true colors in this battle, and like 95% of the owners in sports, they ain't pretty to look at. And yeah, it’s an extremely disappointing development. I had high hopes for the guy. Turns out, I was just high.)
* Also thrilled for Dirk, obviously. And yes, I find it completely ironic that the folks who are so quick to label LBJ a "choker" today, have been calling Dirk that for at least five years now. Just like Dirk wasn't a "choker", LBJ isn't one either. Now, you can argue that LBJ is a "quitter", and there's ample evidence to support that idea, but he's not a "choker".
* If anyone can be called a "choker" last night, its Dwyane Wade. The moment I knew Dallas was going to win was with about 8 minutes left, when Mark Jackson said something like "Dwyane Wade has the look in his eyes of someone ready to take over this game". Wade promptly bricked a three, then on his next possession, dribbled out of bounds off his foot. He also played (at best) half assed defense on Barea's 3 pointer, and then his drive down the heart of the lane for a sick reverse layup that pretty much sealed the game.
* With about six to play, Dirk was 6 for 23 shooting. You're damned right I wanted him to miss his next shot, not shoot again, and match Kobe "6 for 24" in the clinching game to win Finals MVP. Because just as it was absolutely ridiculous that people used one off night to rip Kobe last year, it would have been even more ridiculous to take one off night to rip Dirk this year. Dallas gets swept if Nowitzki isn't on the roster, just like Boston wins in 5 at most last year if Kobe isn't on the floor. Dirk single-handedly rallied Dallas in games two and four, and along with Jason Kidd, pulled off another epic comeback in game five. If that isn't the definition of MVP, then I'm even more clueless than most folks think I am.
* Loved, absolutely loved, Mark Cuban having David Stern present the trophy to Donald Carter. Although I gotta admit, as I replied to my buddy Anthony when he asked what I was feeling, "until trophy in cubans hand im in disbelief".
* Also laughed out loud at Van Gundy, Breen, and Jackson discussing before the trophy had even been presented if Miami should blow the experiment up. And of course, if it's an idiot's opinion you're looking for, you can absolutely be certain that Jason Whitlock wrote the same thing at foxsports.com this morning. Pull the plug after one year. Uuh, fellas? Year one of said experiment ended two wins away from total and complete success. I wouldn't touch a thing. Other than hope the MLE survives the CBA negotiation, and you can use that to grab up a true point. (Luke Ridnour anyone?)
* Something I never dreamed I'd live to see: the day when I'd be screaming "f*cking Mario Chalmers!", and not mean it as a compliment. Uum, not that I ever like started bawling like someone in a S&M cession gone horribly wrong and curled up in the fetal position continuing to cry for four straight minutes after Mario Chalmers hit a three pointer before. Speaking of Super Mario ...
* Chalmers should have been ejected for his role in "Not Quite a Brawl-a-Palooza 2011". From my perspective, it appeared Haslim was walking off the court happy about hitting the last shot headed into timeout (continuing a 14-0 Miami run), and had his arm extended up in a celebratory moment. Then Deshawn Stevenson (not exactly the brightest bulb in the room) wasn't paying attention where he was walking, and brushed his shoulder on Haslim's elbow-ish area. After a brief moment of "what the ...", both guys appeared to know what had happened, and were walking off, no harm done ... until Chalmers comes in from fifty feet away to shove Stevenson in the back. Cue the "Almost Brawl", as both benches tried to maintain some order (yet another reason I wouldn't have suspended anyone -- both benches were clearly working to control the situation. The only person escalating it was Chalmers.) It was stupid on Chalmers part, and should have merited an ejection (but not a suspension. Unless punches are thrown, there's no reason to suspend anyone.) Oh, speaking of this situation ...
* How in the hell is Stu Jackson still in charge of NBA punishments and suspensions? This guy was the only coach the Knicks had for 20 straight years who couldn't get above .500. He did such an "outstanding" job running the Vancouver Grizzlies that they fled for that basketball mecca called Memphis, Tennessee. And THIS is the guy in charge of figuring out flagrant twos and suspension rulings? My head hurts just thinking about that.
* Too bad Bennett Salvatore never officiated a game in this series. Although you wouldn't have known it by Miami's 20 plus advantage in foul shots last night. Well, actually you would have -- every time Mike Breen (who was way, way off his usual A+ game last night) would point out the foul shot disparity, I'd sit there and shake my head in "really? Mike? You're this freaking stupid tonight?!?!" frustration. The Heat pounded the ball inside all night long. The Mavs settled for (and consistently hit) the 12 to 15 foot jumper. Which team is going to get fouled more, the team pounding the rim every possession, or the team working the ball around the key until someone pops open from 15 feet out? Duh. Of course Miami had a foul shot edge.
* Finally, I think I'm most glad of all for Jason Kidd. (john madden voice) Now here's a guy ... who pretty much single-handedly led the Nets (the Nets for crying out loud!) to back-to-back Eastern championships, before coming up just short in the Finals to the two dynasties of the last decade (Lakers, Spurs). He gets traded back to Dallas a couple years ago, and everyone rips the deal. Everyone says he's old, he's washed up, that Dallas needs to go younger at the point.
And all Kidd does, is hit the biggest shot in franchise history in game five (a three pointer to put the Mavs ahead for good 100-98), and then hits another three to in essence clinch the championship. I really felt good for him.
* Well ok, not quite "finally" -- one last item. Please, guys, learn a lesson from the NFL, and especially from the NHL. Do NOT destroy a good thing that you've got going because you can't figure out how to split up billions of dollars amongst friends. Especially learn from the NHL -- the sport was never more popular than in the aftermath of the amazing 94 playoffs and Stanley Cup Finals (Rangers beat the Canucks in 7). Then, they locked out the players, and other than a brief moment in the early 2000s when Ray Bourque won the Cup in Denver, nobody has cared about the NHL since. Fans are so disgusted by the NFL right now that both sides are actually scared enough to finally negotiate. Please, David Stern, Billy Hunter, Adam Silver, let's not screw this up. There's 19 days until the CBA expires, only one of which needs to be spent on basketball related activity (the draft, 10 days from now). If you aren't negotiating face to face every day from this point until July 1st, you need your heads examined. And deserve the financial catastrophe a fan backlash would unleash on your sport.
"If the love that I've felt for you's gone.
If the river I've cried ain't that long,
Then I'm wrong, yeah I'm wrong, this ain't a love song;
If the pain that I'm feeling so strong,
Ain't the reason I'm holding on,
Then I'm wrong, yeah I'm wrong, this ain't a love song ...
(LaKisha Jones version from "Idol's" finest hour ...)
---------------------
Flash back with me for a moment. To a fun-filled time of my life also known as "my junior year of college". For so many reasons, this was the funnest year of my life. I turned 21. It was the "summer of oppressive heat"*, when the grass was dead by mid June, and the temperature was still in triple digits in early October.
(*: the National Weather Service site notes that 1998 saw the following records get smashed in North Texas:
* warmest April to July ever -- 77.65 degrees average temperature.
* average July high temperature of 101.2 degrees. (stevo voice) Suh-weet!
* driest April to July ever -- 4.46 inches of rain (total).
* 29 consecutive days above 100 (June 23 to August 3).
* 56 total days above 100 degreees.
* 94 total days above 90 degrees.
* 14 consecutive days where the temperature never dropped below 80 (July 19 to August 1).
* 39 total days where the temperature never dropped below 80.
* a grand total of 0.46 inches of rain fell between June 12 and September 10.
Some people might call that "insanely hot", "hellish conditions", and would immediately invoke Steve Rule 34 to describe anyone who wants to live in those conditions. Me? I call it "paradise". Except not (meatloaf voice) "by the dashboard lights" ... )
Cue March 5, 1998. Spring is beginning to arrive in the Metroplex. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, me and Frank are blowing off class to sit outside with a cooler full of beer, life is good. Spring break for me is still a week away, but for two of my best friends up in Lawrence, it was already here. So my good buddies Gregg and Jasson came down to visit for a few days, under the proven "hey, it's warmer where Steve is than it is where we are!" theory that you just couldn't argue with.
That Thursday night, we headed over to the West End. Had some dinner at the Hard Rock. And then, for reasons that not even I can understand 13 years later, we paid to attend a basketball game.
Not just any basketball game -- it was a battle of the two worst teams in the League. The Mavericks, entering the game with 10 wins (and already having posted losing streaks of both 10 and 15 games -- impressive!!!) would face off against the Clippers, who somehow entered the game as the "better team" with 12 wins (and already having posted losing streaks of 7, 8, and 9 games -- really impressive!!!). You want to talk about star power? The current Heat got nothing on the Mavs and Clips back then! Check out this stud talent that graced Reunion Arena with it's presence that night:
Clips Starting Lineup: SF Lamond Murray, PF Rodney Rogers, C Ike Austin, PG Darrick Martin, SG Eric Piatkowski.
Mavs Starting Lineup: SF Cedric Ceballos, PF A.C. Green, C Eric Riley, SG / SF Michael Finley, PG Khalid Reeves.
My God, that's ... that's exactly zero future Hall of Famers on the floor.
But the benches, I mean, what a wealth of talent that every team no doubt was beating down the doors at the trading deadline to get ahold of:
Clips Reserves: PF Maurice Taylor, SG James Robinson, C Keith Closs, PG Pooh Richardson, SG Charles Smith.
Mavs Reserves: C Chris Antsey, PF Martin Muursepp, SG Hubert Davis, SG Bubba Wells, PG Erick Strickland.
Holy cow, that's ... that's ten really sh*tty players.
Yes, the three of us paid premium scalpers prices to attend this battle of the beasts. (I believe we paid $15 / ticket on a $65 face value lower level ticket, with a parking pass thrown in. And you know what? I still argue we overpaid. Although the most priceless expression might have been on the scalper’s face. He seemed genuinely moved that someone – anyone! – was buying tickets for this game.)
The Mavs somehow won this game (119-109 final, yet more proof that even the worst imaginable game the League has to offer, and trust me, this was eight levels of awful, is still so superior to 97.6% of what the college game has to offer, that it's obscene). And though there was no way to know it at the time, this one game, was the catalyst to the championship the Mavs just earned. Don't believe me? Fine, here we go.
First, a little more background.
The ONLY local sports team that was terrible while I was in college ... well, ok, was my school's football program, which culminated an incredible fall from co-Southwest Conference champs the year before I arrived, to needing to beat our rival SMU on the final game of the season my junior year to avoid an 0-12 campaign. (We won 13-10 in overtime, and you're damned right all 14 of us in attendance rushed the field!) But other than Horned Frog football, nothing was worse than Dallas Mavericks basketball.
The Rangers won the division three of my four years there. As did the Cowboys, and they tacked on a Super Bowl championship to boot. The Stars made the playoffs three times, won the division twice, and would win the Stanley Cup right after I graduated. TCU basketball was a tournament staple under Billy Tubbs. (They were the four seed in 1998.) TCU baseball was (and still is) a threat to reach Omaha every June (although sadly, they won't be there next week when I hope to make the annual trek up for a couple days of baseball in the sun.)
Then ... there were the Mavs. As Wikipedia so politely puts it:
"The 1990s were known as the "dark ages". They never reached the playoffs from 1991-2000, bottoming out with an 11-71 mark in 1992-1993, and a 13-69 mark the following season." (Which meant the 1997-1998 Mavs we paid to watch, were actually an improvement over the prior seasons! At 10-53 entering this contest, they were "going in the right direction!" Oy.)
The Mavs couldn't catch a break. They draft the "Three J's" in Jason Kidd, Jamal Mashburn, and Jimmy Jackson ... only to see Mashburn never stay healthy, Jackson get into a ridiculous feud with Jason Kidd over who had first dibs on banging Toni Braxton**, and Kidd eventually demanding (and receiving) a trade to get the hell away from the losing and the drama. They cycled through horrific coaches like I cycle through handles of vodka: early and often. They gave Quinn Buckner his first (and only) head coaching job, where he was one-and-done after that previously mentioned 11 win season. They replaced him with Jim Cleamons, who was actually worse, believe it or not. (Cleamons was fired early in the 1997-1998 season). They drug Dick Motta out of whatever retirement community he was relaxing in to oversee the rebuilding effort (epic fail).
(**: I know she's the star of one of the "worst of the worst" in reality television now, but good God, was Toni Braxton hot in her day or what? My Lord, she was smoking hot. I totally get why neither guy wanted to give an inch or eight over claiming her.)
And the draft picks were even worse. They used first rounders on Tony Dumas, Chris Antsey, Chris Gatling. They couldn't nail a second rounder to save their lives. Toss in the founder of the club being so disallusioned by the losing that he sold out for pennies on the dollar to Ross Perot's kid***, and you could make a damned good argument that the worst team in the League, if not in all professional sports, entering the lockout-shortened 1999 season was the Dallas Mavericks.
(***: it's not possible to put into words how horrific the Ross Perot Jr. era was. He made Rachel Phelps from "Major League" look like a top flight owner. Thankfully, Donald Carter loved his old team so much (and still had enough ownership stake in it), that he was able to marshall enough public pressure on Perot Jr. to sell out to some internet broadcasting hot shot named Mark Cuban in 1999. Hope that helps understand why Cuban was so insistent on Don Carter accepting the O'Brien Trophy last night.)
Culminating with what had to be rock bottom that magical night in March 1998, when they hauled the corpse of Don Nelson off the beaches of Maui, gave him the keys to the franchise, and watched Dick Motta, who was just there for Perot Jr's paycheck and coached like it, do battle with Bill Fitch, who was just there for Donald Sterling's paycheck and coached like it.
It was brutally awful. It was utterly unwatchable.
And yet, that game changed the course of a franchise. Because the win that night, an entertaining, up-and-down the court, defense be damned effort, convinced Don Nelson (who, to the surprise of no one, eventually found his way to the bench) to play that style the rest of the year. It led the Mavs to close 9-9, allowing the Clippers to edge out the Mavericks for the top lottery odds. (And the Clips won said lottery.)
That offseason, Cuban stepped up to buy up majority ownership of the Mavericks, immediately turning the Mavericks from a cheap-skate, "cut every corner" organization to one that was, in the worn-out words of Randy Jackson, "in it to win it!" Cuban (and Stars owner Tom Hicks) stepped up and financed the new American Airlines Centre****, that opened in 2001.
(****: I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Centre is much cooler than Center. The Canadians can’t beat us at much, but they whip our ass when it comes to naming an arena. Excuse me, Centre.)
But most importantly, that late winning streak in 1998 that the victory over the Clippers sparked, gave the Clips the number one pick in the 1998 NBA Draft. The Clippers, without an obvious choice at number one, took a gamble on Michael Olowokandi. The Mavericks actually slid all the way to sixth when the lottery took place, and at six, they drafted Robert "Tractor" Traylor from Michigan, then immediately traded him to Milwaukee for the rights to some unknown German product by the name of Dirk Nowitzki, as well as guard Pat Garrity. Even more amazingly, they shipped Pat Garrity off to the Phoenix Suns for some unknown Canadian product by the name of Steve Nash.
Bam. In one offseason, the Mavericks were reborn. They won 50 games in 2000, and have won at least 50 games every season since then (tying the Spurs for the longest current mark in the League at 12.) They finally poked a couple holes in the glass ceiling in 2006, reaching the Finals for the first time in franchise history. And then, after the Crime of 2006, the humiliation of 2007, the collapse of 2009, and the annihilation of 2010, this unlikely squad of grizzled veterans and one plucky youngster set aside a frustrating regular season, ignored everything the so-called "experts" had to say about them, and won the final game of the NBA season Sunday night in Miami, 105-95, in a game that was really never in doubt from halftime onward.
I watched last night on "the deck", with a few fellow Dallas transplants and fans. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Here's my final thoughts on the best NBA Finals of my lifetime, an event that was made possible beginning with that warm March evening 13 years ago.
* The obvious reaction this morning will be to say that the Heat "choked", that LeBron "choked", that D Wade "choked". It's like the ghost of Allen Ludden has entered the room and is constantly saying "the password is, choked". And I could not disagree stronger with that sentiment.
For starters, to "choke", you have to whiz away a lead. The Heat did not lead the entire second half outside of one brief second very early on, and never got closer than four points in the 4th quarter. And they only got that close once. No, last night wasn't about Miami "choking", it was about Dallas "winning", with incredible perimeter shooting, solid coaching (Carlisle is so freaking underrated. He put the clown suit on Spoelstra and was honking his nose, he so outcoached him in this series), and (for the most part) poise in the heat of the moment.
Last night was not a "choke", it was a "win". One team simply wanted it more.
Now, you can argue game two was a "choke", and game four, and game five, and very nearly game three as well. But last night was not a "choke".
* I am very curious to know what the NBA would have done had there been a game seven regarding suspensions for the Chalmers / Haslem / Stevenson incident. The only moment of last night's game that I did not enjoy, was poor Jeff Van Gundy having to relive the 1997 flameout thanks to the brawl in Miami in game five. I truly believe the 1996-1997 Knicks would have taken Chicago to seven, if not won it in six. That team was the best Knicks team of the Jordan era. (They were the only team to even split a series with Chicago that year, and they took 3 of 4, including the last game of the season, a prime-time ass-whipping at the United Centre that might have been my favorite game of the Ewing years.) Sadly, thanks to the infamous brawl that everyone remembers mostly for Jeff Van Gundy hanging on Alonzo Mourning's leg like a chihuahua, we'll never know.
(My guess? Van Gundy and Jackson were right, and the NBA wouldn't have suspended anyone. Because if this thing had reached a game seven, there isn't a shot in hell David Stern would want a stupid shoving match that did no harm in the end, to alter the outcome of a championship. And you know what? Good for Stern if that's the case. Too bad he didn't share that sentiment fourteen years ago when it involved the Knicks, because God forbid anyone stand in His Airness' way of a fifth title. But at least Stern has learned from his mistakes, and that's what counts, I guess.)
* From the "stuff only Stevo would notice" department: that beautiful looking blonde sitting next to Mark Anthony last night behind the Heat's bench, was most definitely not Jennifer Lopez.
* I know it's early, and I know we've still got a looming lockout that threatens to destroy all the positive energy this postseason has brought to the League ... but come on, ESPN / ABC. There's only one acceptable replacement for Mark Jackson in the booth. Bring back Bill Walton! It's a crime to have to listen to Walton broadcast Kings games on local TV, instead of being on the national stage where he belongs.
(Oh, and while I'm at it, TNT? Can you PLEASE fire Reggie Miller already? The guy sounds less intelligent than me halfway through a 311 concert, and the last one of those I attended, a "t-shirt worn as a turban" was involved. Please, TNT guys, Fire Reggie Miller!)
* Could not be happier for Mark Cuban, who is the epitome of what sports ownership should be. Like I noted on Facebook, what I wouldn't give for one of the teams I love, to have an owner like him. (And please Chiefs fans, spare me the "Clark Hunt seems ok" bullsh*t. Any owner who uses the lockout (that he and his fellow owners started) to save a couple bucks by hacking non-player employee salaries during it, is a cheap-ass weasel. Clark has revealed his true colors in this battle, and like 95% of the owners in sports, they ain't pretty to look at. And yeah, it’s an extremely disappointing development. I had high hopes for the guy. Turns out, I was just high.)
* Also thrilled for Dirk, obviously. And yes, I find it completely ironic that the folks who are so quick to label LBJ a "choker" today, have been calling Dirk that for at least five years now. Just like Dirk wasn't a "choker", LBJ isn't one either. Now, you can argue that LBJ is a "quitter", and there's ample evidence to support that idea, but he's not a "choker".
* If anyone can be called a "choker" last night, its Dwyane Wade. The moment I knew Dallas was going to win was with about 8 minutes left, when Mark Jackson said something like "Dwyane Wade has the look in his eyes of someone ready to take over this game". Wade promptly bricked a three, then on his next possession, dribbled out of bounds off his foot. He also played (at best) half assed defense on Barea's 3 pointer, and then his drive down the heart of the lane for a sick reverse layup that pretty much sealed the game.
* With about six to play, Dirk was 6 for 23 shooting. You're damned right I wanted him to miss his next shot, not shoot again, and match Kobe "6 for 24" in the clinching game to win Finals MVP. Because just as it was absolutely ridiculous that people used one off night to rip Kobe last year, it would have been even more ridiculous to take one off night to rip Dirk this year. Dallas gets swept if Nowitzki isn't on the roster, just like Boston wins in 5 at most last year if Kobe isn't on the floor. Dirk single-handedly rallied Dallas in games two and four, and along with Jason Kidd, pulled off another epic comeback in game five. If that isn't the definition of MVP, then I'm even more clueless than most folks think I am.
* Loved, absolutely loved, Mark Cuban having David Stern present the trophy to Donald Carter. Although I gotta admit, as I replied to my buddy Anthony when he asked what I was feeling, "until trophy in cubans hand im in disbelief".
* Also laughed out loud at Van Gundy, Breen, and Jackson discussing before the trophy had even been presented if Miami should blow the experiment up. And of course, if it's an idiot's opinion you're looking for, you can absolutely be certain that Jason Whitlock wrote the same thing at foxsports.com this morning. Pull the plug after one year. Uuh, fellas? Year one of said experiment ended two wins away from total and complete success. I wouldn't touch a thing. Other than hope the MLE survives the CBA negotiation, and you can use that to grab up a true point. (Luke Ridnour anyone?)
* Something I never dreamed I'd live to see: the day when I'd be screaming "f*cking Mario Chalmers!", and not mean it as a compliment. Uum, not that I ever like started bawling like someone in a S&M cession gone horribly wrong and curled up in the fetal position continuing to cry for four straight minutes after Mario Chalmers hit a three pointer before. Speaking of Super Mario ...
* Chalmers should have been ejected for his role in "Not Quite a Brawl-a-Palooza 2011". From my perspective, it appeared Haslim was walking off the court happy about hitting the last shot headed into timeout (continuing a 14-0 Miami run), and had his arm extended up in a celebratory moment. Then Deshawn Stevenson (not exactly the brightest bulb in the room) wasn't paying attention where he was walking, and brushed his shoulder on Haslim's elbow-ish area. After a brief moment of "what the ...", both guys appeared to know what had happened, and were walking off, no harm done ... until Chalmers comes in from fifty feet away to shove Stevenson in the back. Cue the "Almost Brawl", as both benches tried to maintain some order (yet another reason I wouldn't have suspended anyone -- both benches were clearly working to control the situation. The only person escalating it was Chalmers.) It was stupid on Chalmers part, and should have merited an ejection (but not a suspension. Unless punches are thrown, there's no reason to suspend anyone.) Oh, speaking of this situation ...
* How in the hell is Stu Jackson still in charge of NBA punishments and suspensions? This guy was the only coach the Knicks had for 20 straight years who couldn't get above .500. He did such an "outstanding" job running the Vancouver Grizzlies that they fled for that basketball mecca called Memphis, Tennessee. And THIS is the guy in charge of figuring out flagrant twos and suspension rulings? My head hurts just thinking about that.
* Too bad Bennett Salvatore never officiated a game in this series. Although you wouldn't have known it by Miami's 20 plus advantage in foul shots last night. Well, actually you would have -- every time Mike Breen (who was way, way off his usual A+ game last night) would point out the foul shot disparity, I'd sit there and shake my head in "really? Mike? You're this freaking stupid tonight?!?!" frustration. The Heat pounded the ball inside all night long. The Mavs settled for (and consistently hit) the 12 to 15 foot jumper. Which team is going to get fouled more, the team pounding the rim every possession, or the team working the ball around the key until someone pops open from 15 feet out? Duh. Of course Miami had a foul shot edge.
* Finally, I think I'm most glad of all for Jason Kidd. (john madden voice) Now here's a guy ... who pretty much single-handedly led the Nets (the Nets for crying out loud!) to back-to-back Eastern championships, before coming up just short in the Finals to the two dynasties of the last decade (Lakers, Spurs). He gets traded back to Dallas a couple years ago, and everyone rips the deal. Everyone says he's old, he's washed up, that Dallas needs to go younger at the point.
And all Kidd does, is hit the biggest shot in franchise history in game five (a three pointer to put the Mavs ahead for good 100-98), and then hits another three to in essence clinch the championship. I really felt good for him.
* Well ok, not quite "finally" -- one last item. Please, guys, learn a lesson from the NFL, and especially from the NHL. Do NOT destroy a good thing that you've got going because you can't figure out how to split up billions of dollars amongst friends. Especially learn from the NHL -- the sport was never more popular than in the aftermath of the amazing 94 playoffs and Stanley Cup Finals (Rangers beat the Canucks in 7). Then, they locked out the players, and other than a brief moment in the early 2000s when Ray Bourque won the Cup in Denver, nobody has cared about the NHL since. Fans are so disgusted by the NFL right now that both sides are actually scared enough to finally negotiate. Please, David Stern, Billy Hunter, Adam Silver, let's not screw this up. There's 19 days until the CBA expires, only one of which needs to be spent on basketball related activity (the draft, 10 days from now). If you aren't negotiating face to face every day from this point until July 1st, you need your heads examined. And deserve the financial catastrophe a fan backlash would unleash on your sport.
Monday, June 6, 2011
my 50(ish) favorite songs ever
(Plus, I somehow manage to work in a nearly two page rant at the midpoint on why the closing scene of my favorite movie ever is so unrealistic, so completely illogical in real life, that it leads me to throw beer cans, whiskey bottles, and whatever else I can get my hands on at the TV every time it’s on … even if I have it on because I’m playing the DVD! See, who says I so am not going to wind up like “Honorable Mention Rant after Number 37 on this countdown!!!” …)
I haven’t done a list post in a while. So, here are my 50ish favorite songs of all time. And God bless it, keeping this to 50ish … ok 60ish … ok, fine, there’s at least 70 in this damned thing, was one helluva difficult assignment. (And to the very end, I waffled on 1 and 2. I’m still not sure of their ranking. But … for now, we go with it.)
Let’s start by ensuring this thing tops 50 with the first “Honorable Mention”.
The Honorable Mention: “Don’t Give Up On Me” by Solomon Burke. The words pretty much sum up my life. “If I fall short / If I don’t make the grade / If your expectations aren’t met in me today / There’s always tomorrow / Or tomorrow night / Hang in there baby, sooner or later, I know I’ll get it right / Please don’t give up on me / Oh please, don’t give up on me …”
50. “I Don’t Remember Last Night” by Sunny Ledford. A minor hit back in 2005, 2006, that The Spectrum kept playing. The chorus about sums it all up: “I Don’t Remember Last Night / Did I fall in love, or did I get in a fight / I don’t remember last night / Not a God Damned Thing! / I don’t remember last night / I was down and out, I was high as a kite / I don’t remember last night / Not a God Damned Thing!” Uum, not that those words can apply to me on any random Thursday.
49. “Are You Ready for the Fallout” by Fastball. You couldn’t be a kid in college in the state of Texas in the late 1990s without loving Fastball. “The Way” being their biggest hit. But this one is my favorite by them, off the “Varsity Blues” soundtrack. Great song.
48. “Endless Summer Nights” by Richard Marx. And the first “hey, let’s make total fun of Stevo’s musical tastes!” selection appears in the countdown! Well screw you. I absolutely LOVE this song. I actually enjoyed my first mini-makeout cession to this song back in the summer of 1989. (I was 12. Now, I’m 34 and am more awkward around girls I like, than I was 22 summers ago. Man, I p*ssed away my early potential.) Plus, as someone who lives for this time of year, when it’s hot as hell, humid as hell, and not a cloud in the sky, when you start sweating by just walking out the door … yeah, I love those “endless summer nights”. Especially the ones spent on my favorite deck in Raytown.
47. “Skin” by Rascal Flatts. One of at least three songs in the top 50 guaranteed to bring me to tears. (This one, though, in a good way, unlike the upcoming other two.) I’m not a huge country fan*, but I like Rascal Flatts, and this song just gets to me. Especially the video, when the kid shows up with the shaved head to take her to the prom, that just kills me -- with emotion, on the computer screen, by the Mr. Clean wannabe, to haul out the now run-into-the-ground Clue reference. This song just gets to me. Love it. (Oh, and if that kid didn’t get lucky at the end of that night, he has no hope. I gotta say it -- that was a total sweet move, to shave the head. That deserves many Tommy Points!)
(* -- this countdown will make you think otherwise.)
46. “Mr. Telephone Man” by New Edition. Come on, my love of sh*tty R&B from the late 80s / early 90s had to make its presence known somewhere.
45. “No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems” by Kenny Chesney. It’s not my “official” life anthem – that’s coming up a long ways later. (As in “top 2” later.) But this one just about sums me up: “No shoes? No shirt? No problems! / Blues? What blues? Hey I forgot ‘em! / The sun and the sand and a drink in my hand, with no bottom! / No shoes? No shirt? No problems!”
44. “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers Anymore” by Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand. Laugh all you want, make fun of me all you want, I don’t give a sh*t. This song rules. One of the great breakup songs ever recorded, if not the greatest. Or a great love song, if you think the two stay together when this thing ends. (I don’t.) And it’s arguably the greatest performance in the history of the Grammy’s. Awesome stuff. (Their sendoff at the end is why I argue this is THE greatest breakup song ever. Although I can see how some would read it as THE greatest makeup song ever. Either way, it knocks your socks off.)
43. “Same Auld Lang Syne” by Dan Fogelberg. The second “guaranteed to reduce Stevo to tears” song on this countdown. It’s the single saddest song I’ve ever heard in my life. And sometimes, you just need to cry. When that moment arrives, just pull this song up, and try not to start sobbing.
42. “Regulate” by Warren G and Nate Dogg. My brother used to drive my dad bat sh*t crazy by playing the “Above the Rim” soundtrack in the car non-stop when this first came out. This song was the best thing on it. Plus, you have to love its wholesome, uplifting, winning message – namely, that even if you drive past a couple hookers on the side of the street to save your buddy from getting jacked in a dice game, you can always go back, they’ll still be there, and “next stop is the Eastside Motel …” Plus the opening, the line “Regulators!!!! Mount up!” never fails to make me laugh. Music should make you laugh. Or at least have fun. Which I’m guessing “Warren to the G” and his “homey Nate” did with those girls at said Eastside Motel …
41. “Fooled Around and Fell In Love” by Elvin Bishop. Always said this should be the personal anthem of DJ. I stand behind that statement. Plus it’s a really neat song. The original version though – Rod Stewart damned near roo-eened this song for me with his “remake” a couple years ago.
40. “Down With the Sickness” by Disturbed. Bar none, THIS is my favorite song on the tailgating CDs at Arrowhead. The second the opening drum beats start, I always start “playing” the drums with my hands. And once the full on sound kicks in, I start nodding the head like I’m in a f*cking mosh pit or something. I absolutely LOVE this song. If you aren’t fired up and ready to kick some ass when this thing hits the first chorus, then check your pulse, you probably don’t have one.
Honorable mention: “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” by Joe Nichols. Another tailgating staple that never, ever gets old. God help me if I ever date someone who that song applies to. It’s bad enough vodka, shiraz, beer … hell, insert liquor here, makes my t-shirt magically disappear at a moment’s notice if it’s a nice, sunny, humid afternoon …
39. “The Best of What’s Around” by Dave Matthews Band. Another “should be the personal anthem of my life” song, but my “personal anthem” is just that much better. “Whatever tears at us / Whatever holds us down / And if nothing can be done / We’ll make the best of what’s around”.
38. “Get It Like You Like It” by Ben Harper. Hey, my favorite artist’s first appearance! Don’t worry, he’s got at least one more coming up. Down 0-3, down 4-3 in the bottom of the 9th, to the Evil Empire … and then Dave Roberts happened. Then David Ortiz kept happening. Then the Bloody Sock happened. And finally … “But Johnny Damon swung a bat / Grand slam! That was that! / 86 years and the Curse was gone!” It also doesn’t hurt that one of the two or three best concerts I’ve ever attended was Ben Harper in a monsoon at Starlight in support of this cd, “Both Sides of the Gun”.
37. “God Only Knows” by the Beach Boys. Entertainment Weekly hails this as the greatest pop song ever recorded. I honestly can’t argue with that assessment. Love this song. “God only knows what I’d be without you.” Hopefully I someday (soon?) find someone I can truly say that about.
Honorable mention: “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” by the Beach Boys. There’s a fantastic scene about ten minutes into “Roger and Me”, before you meet Sheriff Fred and The Rabbit Lady and the Color Lady and that crazy tourism director who, for a brief moment, actually makes you root for GM -- right after GM chairman Roger B. Smith (voted by Fortune as the “worst CEO of the 20th Century”, and I’m guessing there was NO competition for that title) announces he’s shutting down over 200,000 jobs in Michigan (and most of those were in Flint) and shipping them to Mexico. Anyways, a plant friend of Michael Moore’s named Ben describes why he voluntarily committed himself to a mental institution. Basically, he got the layoff notice, realized life as everyone knew it in Flint was over, so he walked off the job, got in his car, is driving along crying and depressed, and then this song came on. That’s when he knew he was crazy and needed help. The moral? I have no idea. Other than every time I hear this song, I think of that guy Ben, and begin to wonder if maybe today is the day I check myself into Two Rivers over there on Raytown Road. You know, “voluntarily”.
36. “Into the Night” by Benny Mardones. For three reasons. (1) my former boss at “former employer”, this was her favorite song, and I heard it so much, it just grew on me. (2) it’s the theme song to the only sports talk show I listen to. And (3) when Benny appeared on said sports talk show, and told the background story to this song, it was beyond inspiring. I stopped regretting that I love this song after hearing the background.
35. “Gallery” by Mario Vasquez. The great “what could have been” on “Idol”. How screwed up was season five? So screwed up that the three best artists didn’t even reach the Finals (Vasquez quit in the top 12; Daughtry went home 4th, Elliott Yamin went home 3rd.)
34. “Dancin’ on the Ceiling” by Lionel Richie. Track 59-14 on the jukebox in the basement. Yes, I know it by memory. Love this song. Four fun minutes of “screw it, just sing along and have fun!” entertainment.
33. “The Jazz Singer (America)” by Neil Diamond. You have no soul if this song doesn’t affect you.
32. “Anthem of Our Dying Day” by Story of the Year. Wow, I thought this one would be much higher. Love this song. One of my favorite cd’s ever released. And yet, there’s 31 I like better. Unbelievable. “From up here the city lights burn / Like a thousand miles of fire / And I’m here to sing this anthem / Of our dying day!”
31. “(I Hate) Everything About You” by Three Days Grace. I’ve had a few of these relationships with people. “I hate everything about you! / Why do I love you?” Plus, this is one of THE best live bands you’ll ever see. Along with …
Honorable Mention: “Falling Away From Me” by Korn. I hated, I mean HATED, Korn with a passion for a long time. And then came August 24, 2004. Projekt Revolution. I’ve detailed how sh*tty that time in my life was elsewhere on this site (scroll down to the answer for number 16 on the Quiz Answers from July 2008.) Their set that night was one of the best 45 minutes of my life. Could not believe how awesome these guys are live. I can say with no doubt whatsoever that the main three of us there that night (me, Gregg, DJ), this was the band we were least looking forward to. And they delivered the best set of the night. I’d absolutely pay top dollar to watch these guys again, just tell me when and where.
30. “Hands Held High” by Linkin Park. Hey, another band there that magical night in late August 2004. They brought the house down to close the night out. This isn’t their best effort, but as a political lefty, it pretty much summed up exactly how I felt about the previous administration. (The irony? You can absolutely use this song to describe the current administration.)
29. “Come On Get Higher” by Matt Nathanson. Matt was on The Pulse during the drive into work Friday, and he performed this live. “Yeah, the song about getting naked with someone you like to have fun with!” Cracked me up. To be fair, the Sugarland version is very good, but Jennifer Nettles can’t sell what makes this song great like Matt does, “I miss the pull of your heart / I taste the sparks on your tongue / I see angels and devils and God / When you COME … on”, the way he accentuates the word “Come”, it just totally sells the song, totally puts you in the, uuh, mood to “get naked with someone you like to have fun with!”
28. “Lawyers, Guns and Money” by Warren Zevon. I blame my dad for this one – he is a huge Zevon fan. But this song did give rise to one of the greatest catch phrases in history. “I was hiding in Honduras / I’m a desperate man. / Send lawyers, guns and money / (wait for it … wait for it …) The Shit Has Hit the Fan!!!” Any song that created that magical six word phrase, has to rank somewhere in my top 50.
27. “Mr. Tamborine Man” by the Byrds. You know what I hate the most about modern music? Other than the auto-tuner that every damned song seems to employ? Its that there’s no creative wording anymore. You don’t have to come up with codes or word embedding to say what you’re singing about. This song is about a freaking junkie praying his supplier gets him another fix. And yet, if you aren’t looking for it, you’d never know. Our folks music was so much better than 99.99% of what passes as “hip” now. And what the hell, one more by Bob:
Honorable Mention: “Just Like a Woman” by Bob Dylan. His last major hit, and man, it’s a classic. If, you know, you think the absolutely ridiculous, stupid, petty sh*t your girl makes you do to make the relationship work is absolutely ridiculous, stupid, and petty. (Should probably note: with two glaring exceptions? (And out of about 20 options, that ain’t bad.) None of my friends are married to (or dating) someone like that. Thank God. There’s nothing more annoying than having to put up with the know-it-all who’s roo-eening … I mean, running, my buddy’s life straight into the ground. Nobody wants to be around that girl. Especially me.)
26. “Let’s Live for Today” by The Grass Roots. This is one of my mom’s absolute favorite songs. And it’s really good. I mean, really good.
(Hey, we’re give or take a couple honorable mentions, halfway home! And I just started page 7 in Word! I’d have lost that over/under prop. Of course, I haven’t come completely off the rails yet with a timely “wait, where’s he going with thi … oh, I see” rant yet. And next up on the countdown … oh boy, here we go …)
25. “How Deep Is Your Love” by the Bee Gees. What, it’s the love theme from my favorite movie of all time. It plays over one of the coolest final moment (yet absolutely unbelievable final scene) ever filmed. I could write a paper on why “Saturday Night Fever” is the best movie ever made. (Wait, I have done that, never mind. And I got an A on that winning effort, thank you very much.) This song perfectly nails the ending to that movie. Even if, as noted, said ending is so completely unrealistic, it nearly roo-eens the previous 145 minutes.
(And allow me to rant on that point for a second. Come on, we’re 30 plus songs in, and I haven’t ranted yet, I am LONG overdue.
Look it, I love “Fever”. It is truly the best movie ever made. And if you don’t believe me, please remember that the late, great Gene Siskel so loved this movie, that he owned Travolta’s white polyester suit from the “finale” to the movie. Because as he freely admitted, this movie got to him. As it does me, for much the same reason: it’s the life you’ll never enjoy … and yet, as much as you’d want to live Tony’s life, you’re grateful to every diety known to man that you’ll never have it.
If you’ve never seen the movie, and someone asks you about it, you instantly know three scenes off the top of your head, because it’s so ingrained in pop culture: (1) Travolta’s strut back to the paint store in the opening credits (to “Stayin’ Alive”), (2) Travolta’s dance sequence on the checkerboard disco floor (that sadly introduced the nation to a then unknown Fran Drescher. Although she does get off one of the ten best lines in the movie: “are you as good in bed as you are on the floor?” Slays me every time.) And (3) the final dance competition with Stephanie and Tony, where Tony wears the famous white suit.
(Also cool? Here’s your random trivia fact of the post. The Bee Gees never officially released “More Than a Woman” as a single, even though it charted into the top 5. Their version is used in the final dance showdown mentioned above … but the released single was the Tavares version. Radio stations and fans loved the Bee Gees version better, so they decided “screw it, we’re playing this” instead of Tavares’ effort. And that’s today’s Stevo “Good Call of the Column!”, because the Tavares version is AWFUL. As in “haul out the Chuck Barkley voice “TURRIBLE!” awful.)
The movie spends 140 minutes building to that final competition. It’s the only thing it seemingly builds toward. Then you hit the dance competition, in a stunner to no one, Tony and Stephanie win it, it’s a rewarding conclusion … only psych! It’s not the conclusion, it’s the catalyst! The three most important scenes in the movie occur AFTER the scene the entire movie builds towards!
(Why “Saturday Night Fever” kicks ass and takes names 101. If you haven’t seen it, you need to. It’s ok, this column will still be here two hours and twenty some odd minutes from right now, if you wanna divert yourself to Netflix for that long and finally watch it. Just be prepared for gratuitous female nudity, an obscene amount of foul language, recreational drug use wide out in the open, casual sex about every fifteen minutes, horrendous racial stereo-typing that ultimately results in a racial brawl, and (actually, my favorite yet saddest plot line) the absolutely sh*tty way Tony treats Annette, and how that relationship ultimately gets “resolved”. It’s why I hate all but the last 30 some odd seconds of the final scene so much … hang on, we’re getting to that, I’m ahead of myself again …)
The final three scenes are by far and away the best, or at least the most important, ten minutes of the movie. Each in its own way. The scene in the car, the scene on the “Brooklyn Bridge” (anyone who’s ever spent time in New York, and God knows I have thanks to my dad’s side of the family, knows that’s the Verrazano heading out to Staten Island, not the Brooklyn headed into Manhattan, that they film Bobby’s big scene that comes out of nowhere in a “holy sh*t!!!” kind of way on. Way to insult everyone’s intelligence there, producers), and the final scene in Stephanie’s brownstone that makes me hurl empty beer cans at the TV every time it’s on.
And then that final scene. Sorry, but there isn’t a shot in hell Stephanie would have let Tony into her brownstone given the events of the night before. Let alone reached détente in the windowsill. Not a shot in holy hell. I will grant you, had Tony been up front at the door about the events leading to his arrival at her brownstone, then maybe, just maybe, the final scene is believable. But he wasn’t. “Nuthin. I’ll tell ya lata.” And still she let him in. She even questions her own sanity in doing so: “letting a known (won’t reveal it) into my apartment?” And she even verbally throws down with him: “really? Be friends with a girl? Can you actually be friends with a girl?” (The rebuttal, which saves the scene: “Honestly? I dunno. But I wanna find out.” From that point on, the scene is cool with me. But the 90 seconds leading into that final huddle in the windowsill of the absolutely gorgeous brownstone (that there isn’t a shot in hell Stephanie could afford on her secretary salary, even in 1976) on the East Side, is so utterly unbelievable, requires such a suspension of reason, that it cheapens the brilliant closing moment. End rant, back to the countdown, if I can remember what the hell number I’m down to.)
24. “All or Nothing” by Theory of a Deadman. Hey, a song released in the last 12 months finally appears! (There’s at least two more coming up, I’m not completely against modern pop music …)
23. “Somewhere Only We Know” by Keane. I love the stripped down version of this that The Coffee House plays, and it’s the version Blake did on “Idol” four years ago. Even the main version of this though is so good, that I never turn the channel when it’s on.
22. “Yeah!” by Usher, Lil’ Jon, and Ludacris. How this wasn’t voted the 2000s best overall song, I have no idea. How Rolling Stone didn’t even include it in the TOP 100, is an outrage that the feds should be investigating.
21. “Burn One Down” by Ben Harper. Life flows by so much more peacefully, relaxingly, and pleasantly when you enjoy “the gift from the earth”. Because “what’s from the earth is of the greatest worth”. Or something like that.
20. “Bye Bye Bye” by NSYNC. My one dance move guaranteed to bring the house down.
19. “You Never Even Called Me By My Name” by David Allen Coe. Dear God, do I love this song! Yes, Mr. Coe, it IS the perfect “country and western song”. Along with another one your good buddy Steve Goodman wrote …
Honorable Mention: “City of New Orleans”, by Willie Nelson. Come on, even ALF knew the lyrics! “Good mornin’ America, how are ya? / Pleased to know you, I’m your native son! / I’m the train they call the City of New Orleans! / And I’ll be gone 500 miles when the day is done!”
18. “Come Monday” by Jimmy Buffett. My favorite Buffett song. Although I love his cover of CSN’s “Southern Cross” that he closes down every concert with almost as much.
17. “Fantasy” by Earth, Wind, and Fire. I will be seeing these guys in less than two weeks, and I am beyond ecstatic. “Every man has a place / In his heart, there’s a space / And the world can’t erase his fantasy …”
16. “Sinners Like Me” by Eric Church. Another song that could be a perfect anthem for my life … if only it had been released before said actual anthem of Stevo’s life. (It’s at most 15 numbered selections away … although hell, anyone who knows me or has read this site knows what said “anthem” is …)
15. “More Than This” by Matt Nathanson. I keep changing what my favorite by this guy is, it veers between this, “Come On Get Higher”, and the two honorable mentions coming up right about now …
Honorable Mention: “Answering Machine” by Matt Nathanson, and
Honorable Mention: “Heartbreak World” by Matt Nathanson.
At the end of the day, I probably go with “More Than This” because man, the lyrics are that good. But they are with “Heartbreak World” as well, that was released at a time I was living that song in real life. And if you don’t get the urge to get at least a little frisky hearing the bridge in “Come On Get Higher”, then it’s probably time to start taking some pills to get the sex drive engaged.
14. “Sydney” by Brett Dennen. Hey, a song actually released IN THIS CALENDAR YEAR!!! (kazoo voice) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Absolutely love this effort out of him. The other song released this year I am totally and completely digging …
Honorable Mention: “Start a Fire” by Ryan Star. Give this song a chance, ditto his “Breathe” debut single that came out before this. This kid’s got a bright, bright future in front of him. (And yes, I am fully aware he is the exact same age as me. I used the term “kid” for a reason dammit.) He’s got a really Daughtry sounding voice and sound to his stuff. His 11:59 cd is well worth the download on iTunes.
13. “Jesus of Suburbia” by Green Day. “American Idiot”, for all of its overhype and (predictable) backlash against said overhype, is a truly great cd. And this is by far and away the best song on it.
12. “It’s My Life” by Bon Jovi. Of course this song is making my top 20. I don’t think it stopped playing in my car cd player from the day it was released until about 3 years later. I absolutely LOVE this song. Well hell, I absolutely LOVE every song on this countdown, I just happen to love it a little less than 11 others, plus whatever honorable mentions I sneak in between now and the (possibly) predictable numero uno.
Honorable Mention: “You Give Love a Bad Name”, originally by Bon Jovi, but so cleverly and amazingly remixed by Blake Lewis. His version is pure genius. “Idol”’s finest hour.
11. (Three Way Tie). Come on, I hadn’t done a tie yet!
11a. “I Think the World Needs a Drink” by Terri Clark.
11b. “I Like Beer” by Tom T. Hall.
11c. “Mas Tequila” by Van Halen.
I can’t disagree with a word in any of these winning efforts. Other than I do like wine, unlike Tom T. Hall.
Well, we’re here, the top 10! Let’s get it started! (And nope, that craptacular tune by the worst band in America that has a recording contract is not appearing anywhere on this post.)
10. “Wherever You Will Go” by the Calling. This song’s always kind of struck me the right way. Love the sound, love the words, hey, what can I say, I’m a sucker for sappy stuff sometimes.
9. “I and Love and You” by the Avett Brothers. Another great breakup song, only far more modern than the others listed so far (and the one still to go at number 7). It’s just a great listen.
8. “Tyler” by the Toadies. “Possum Kingdom” might be my favorite cd of all time. (It’s damned close. Get me in the right mood, I’d vote it number one.) Texas’ finest alternative band of the 90s, and this was their best effort. Plus, one of the last nights I spent in college, and in Texas, was an impromptu “let’s hit up the Hard Rock, what the hell” night (my brother had just come in for my graduation, it was a Thursday in mid December). So me, Drew, my roommates, Mike and Niko, a couple others, head on over to that amazing converted chapel on Pearl Street and McKinney, walk in the door, and wouldn’t you know it, Frank had set me up! God I loved that guy, co-best roomie ever with Vineet, “The Voice of Reason” and “The Champ”. (I ain’t picking; you four all rock.)
Apparently he knew the Toadies were doing a concert at the Hard Rock that night for that “Hard Rock Live” show VH1 used to air. I will never forget how awesome this night was. Especially when they closed the set with “Tyler”. Plus the song itself, it’s so freaking perfect, especially in the second half. At the risk of offending any single religious people who read this that take that whole “don’t screw until you’re married” idea to heart, uuh, if you have never been in the position of the dude the song is singing about, especially as it hits its finale, you haven’t lived buddy, you freaking haven’t lived.
7. “Silver Springs” by Fleetwood Mac. Late summer 1997: I’m entering my junior year in college. (And yes, this is “the semester”, when I went from a solid 3.8 student to a barely scraping a 2.0 because that damned 007 game came out on the N64. Between that and Mario Kart, coupled with one roommate now being legal, and the other one loving an herbal remedy, I think I pulled off a minor miracle at getting a 2.0.) MTV stages the Fleetwood Mac reunion concert, and “The Dance” cd of its recording is a huge hit. I’m already a huge fan – after all, I grew up in a family where dad’s radio never leaves 101 the Fox, mom’s rarely left Oldies 95, and as even back then a “way too into politics for his own good” liberal, of COURSE I loved The Mac, they did Clinton’s election theme song after all!
So, this is the cd in my Discman. (Fine, fine, stop yelling – a Discman was a very bulky iPod predecessor that played cd’s, only it skipped so much as you walked along from class to class that you eventually just gave up trying to listen. Although once you got to lab or class, and could set that thing on solid footing, it was golden.) And my roomies Vineet and Frank just give me all kinds of sh*t for the first week. (My favorite? “Dude, how can you listen to sh*t our folks love?” And that was from the guy I went to an Eagles concert with on his dime. Uuh, yeah. We didn’t have a combined 4.3 GPA between the three of us for nothing that semester! I kid, I kid, I think it was 4.8.) Anyways, one night, we’re sitting around doing what we do best (aka “enjoying a couple cold ones and burning one down”), they start in again on the cd, and I’ve had it. In a rare show of spine, I’m like “fine, here, listen to the god d*mned thing, and if you still hate it by song six, I’ll never listen to it again!”
We went to the reunion tour concert at (ironically enough) Reunion Arena not even six weeks later. This song is the cd’s best effort, it’s Stevie Nicks finally, after years of having to hear Lindsey rip her every day via “Go Your Own Way”, FINALLY, she gets revenge. And man, the last 90 seconds, the final chorus, you can literally taste the hate in this song. It takes her a solid 15 seconds to calm down enough just to end the song, she’s waited so long for this moment. Awesome stuff.
6. “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey. If I have to explain why this is in my top ten, just start clicking various links on the side of the page. Particularly anything having to do with Top 4 Idol night this past season, or “The Sopranos”, or KU Football from 2007.
5. “One Step Closer” by Linkin Park. Quite possibly the best five minutes of my life that didn’t involve me (a) being high, (b) being drunk, or (c) having some fun with a member of the opposite sex. Oh wait, I was two of the three, and son of a b*tch, you can probably guess the one that wasn’t happening. Linkin Park closed down Projekt Revolution in 2004 at Sandstone with this song, and I gotta say, this might be the highlight of my life musically. I’ve mentioned elsewhere on this site why that night and that concert meant so much to me, but man, I actually am sitting here shaking my head, with a big goofy grin on my face, fighting back tears, remembering that moment from that night. “Cause I’m One Step Closer to the edge / And I’m about to break!!!” I can still see myself head-slamming, pounding the fist, jumping up and down … and I wasn’t the only one. (Sorry “Champ”, you know you were too. Ditto “The Voice of Reason”.) The best concert I’ve ever been to, and I’d do it again tomorrow if I had the chance. What a night. And what a song.
Honorable Mention: “Work” by Jimmy Eat World. “Futures”, for anyone who cares, is my favorite cd of all time pretty much any time you ask me. “Work” for years and years and years (ok, six or seven years) was always fourth on my top four songs, behind three of the next four about to appear. But as time goes along, one of these remaining four just keeps growing more and more on me. So now “Work” is an honorable mention, somewhere in the top 10 if I’m being honest, but why start now, I am a Democrat after all.
4. “Perfect Memory” by Remy Zero. The next two songs, you probably have never heard of the artist performing said song, and even odds you’ve never heard the song itself. So do yourself a favor and Youtube! it. This was my late buddy James’ favorite song, and you’re damned right I cried when they played this at his funeral mass. It’s sadly, a perfect description of his life. Rest in peace buddy.
(Second random trivia note of the post: Remy Zero only had one minor hit … and this song wasn’t it. Nope, they did the theme song to “Smallville”! When your biggest “hit” is scoring the theme song to the what, 110th, 111th rated show, uuh … and yet, an even LOWER rated show’s theme song is still to come!!! And you bet your sweet ass it’s “Stevo’s Anthem in Life”!!! Oy …)
3. “Second Place Victory” by This Day and Age. And here’s a band that had zip, zero, nada major hits. They had a minor one (apparently) in New England and the upper East with this one.
And I can totally understand why. There’s nothing wrong with a “Second Place Victory” in life. Someday, I hope to win one.
And now, the toughest part of the post … and we’re only on page 13, so I am well short of “longest post ever” status.
On the one hand, is the song that I have said is my “personal anthem in life”, is the theme song to (arguably) the worst show still on network television (even if, as I freely admit, I totally love the show, am absolutely addicted to it, and I have seen every second of every minute of every hour of every episode of said television show between original airings and SoapNet reruns …), and it’s one of my favorite artists signature songs, if not THE signature song by him.
On the other hand, you have a song that only one “Idol” contestant has ever performed on that show, and the second David Cook launched into it, I feared DJ and “deadbeat ex roomie” were about to evict me, I was so totally digging it. Plus, it’s the song that for years I listened to walking into Arrowhead to get me into the proper mindset for GameDay, and it’s just one amazing rock anthem to boot. So, your top two Stevo Favorite Songs are …
2. “I Don’t Wanna Be” by Gavin DeGraw. From the second you see Lucas Scott dribbling the basketball on the railroad bridge as the three opening piano notes hit, you’re f*cking hooked on this song. (Yes, it’s the theme song to “One Tree Hill”, although, in my defense … well, I have no defense, I’ve seen every moment “One Tree Hill” has ever broadcast. Not even “Unfrozen Cave Man Lawyer” could get me off for this offensive of a television pleasure. But in my defense – I loved this song before it was “Tree Hill”’s theme song. Because Gavin DeGraw is that damned good.)
I don’t wanna be anything
Other than what I’ve been
Trying to be lately,
All I have to do
Is think of me
And I have peace of mind.
I’m tired of looking around rooms,
Wondering what I’m supposed to do,
Or who I’m supposed to be.
I don’t wanna be anything other than … me.
Perfection. Only, not quite, because my favorite song from when I launched this site, is still at the top of the charts …
1. “Innocent” by Our Lady Peace. Some people I know, enter Arrowhead listening to “Lose Yourself” by Eminem. Some entered to “Boom!” by POD. Some get fired up by “Down With the Sickness” by Disturbed. (OK, I cop to that too. Wait, I already did. It’s wickedly inspiring.)
But THIS … THIS is THE fire you up anthem in life. Or at least to me it is. The story of a struggling musician offered the break of a lifetime – sell out and record a pop hit, over staying true to your principles. You’ve got your dreams, your vision … but now you have a sick girl, you’ve got bills, you’ve got pressures … “and I remember feeling low, and I remember losing hope, and I remember all the feelings …”
And the day they stopped.
We are.
We are all innocent.
We are all innocent.
We are, we are.
The artist didn’t sell out. He stuck to his guns, so to speak. Ignored the advice. Made it happen on his terms.
“Remember losing hope? Remember feeling low? Remember all the feelings and …”
The day they stopped.
We all got something to contribute to this life. I’ll be damned if I know what my contribution is, other than horrendous dancing to “Bye Bye Bye”, 15 page countdowns on my 50 favorite songs that somehow reach 70 plus songs, and ensuring potato farmers everywhere can at least hawk their product on the secondary market as the beginnings of a vodka crop. But man, I love this song. We are all “innocent”. We all have our shot to make it. It’s up to us to do it. God knows I’ve failed many a time or 1,938,538,562. But I’m still “innocent”. I can still make it happen. As can anyone else.
As always, questions, comments, thoughts, or angry grizzley-bear like reactions -- unlike some people, I don’t censor or block your thoughts. You can hit the comments below, or hit me up at Facebook or Twitter or Yahoo IM! at teamtito15. It might take me a while to reply, but eventually I do ...
I haven’t done a list post in a while. So, here are my 50ish favorite songs of all time. And God bless it, keeping this to 50ish … ok 60ish … ok, fine, there’s at least 70 in this damned thing, was one helluva difficult assignment. (And to the very end, I waffled on 1 and 2. I’m still not sure of their ranking. But … for now, we go with it.)
Let’s start by ensuring this thing tops 50 with the first “Honorable Mention”.
The Honorable Mention: “Don’t Give Up On Me” by Solomon Burke. The words pretty much sum up my life. “If I fall short / If I don’t make the grade / If your expectations aren’t met in me today / There’s always tomorrow / Or tomorrow night / Hang in there baby, sooner or later, I know I’ll get it right / Please don’t give up on me / Oh please, don’t give up on me …”
50. “I Don’t Remember Last Night” by Sunny Ledford. A minor hit back in 2005, 2006, that The Spectrum kept playing. The chorus about sums it all up: “I Don’t Remember Last Night / Did I fall in love, or did I get in a fight / I don’t remember last night / Not a God Damned Thing! / I don’t remember last night / I was down and out, I was high as a kite / I don’t remember last night / Not a God Damned Thing!” Uum, not that those words can apply to me on any random Thursday.
49. “Are You Ready for the Fallout” by Fastball. You couldn’t be a kid in college in the state of Texas in the late 1990s without loving Fastball. “The Way” being their biggest hit. But this one is my favorite by them, off the “Varsity Blues” soundtrack. Great song.
48. “Endless Summer Nights” by Richard Marx. And the first “hey, let’s make total fun of Stevo’s musical tastes!” selection appears in the countdown! Well screw you. I absolutely LOVE this song. I actually enjoyed my first mini-makeout cession to this song back in the summer of 1989. (I was 12. Now, I’m 34 and am more awkward around girls I like, than I was 22 summers ago. Man, I p*ssed away my early potential.) Plus, as someone who lives for this time of year, when it’s hot as hell, humid as hell, and not a cloud in the sky, when you start sweating by just walking out the door … yeah, I love those “endless summer nights”. Especially the ones spent on my favorite deck in Raytown.
47. “Skin” by Rascal Flatts. One of at least three songs in the top 50 guaranteed to bring me to tears. (This one, though, in a good way, unlike the upcoming other two.) I’m not a huge country fan*, but I like Rascal Flatts, and this song just gets to me. Especially the video, when the kid shows up with the shaved head to take her to the prom, that just kills me -- with emotion, on the computer screen, by the Mr. Clean wannabe, to haul out the now run-into-the-ground Clue reference. This song just gets to me. Love it. (Oh, and if that kid didn’t get lucky at the end of that night, he has no hope. I gotta say it -- that was a total sweet move, to shave the head. That deserves many Tommy Points!)
(* -- this countdown will make you think otherwise.)
46. “Mr. Telephone Man” by New Edition. Come on, my love of sh*tty R&B from the late 80s / early 90s had to make its presence known somewhere.
45. “No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems” by Kenny Chesney. It’s not my “official” life anthem – that’s coming up a long ways later. (As in “top 2” later.) But this one just about sums me up: “No shoes? No shirt? No problems! / Blues? What blues? Hey I forgot ‘em! / The sun and the sand and a drink in my hand, with no bottom! / No shoes? No shirt? No problems!”
44. “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers Anymore” by Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand. Laugh all you want, make fun of me all you want, I don’t give a sh*t. This song rules. One of the great breakup songs ever recorded, if not the greatest. Or a great love song, if you think the two stay together when this thing ends. (I don’t.) And it’s arguably the greatest performance in the history of the Grammy’s. Awesome stuff. (Their sendoff at the end is why I argue this is THE greatest breakup song ever. Although I can see how some would read it as THE greatest makeup song ever. Either way, it knocks your socks off.)
43. “Same Auld Lang Syne” by Dan Fogelberg. The second “guaranteed to reduce Stevo to tears” song on this countdown. It’s the single saddest song I’ve ever heard in my life. And sometimes, you just need to cry. When that moment arrives, just pull this song up, and try not to start sobbing.
42. “Regulate” by Warren G and Nate Dogg. My brother used to drive my dad bat sh*t crazy by playing the “Above the Rim” soundtrack in the car non-stop when this first came out. This song was the best thing on it. Plus, you have to love its wholesome, uplifting, winning message – namely, that even if you drive past a couple hookers on the side of the street to save your buddy from getting jacked in a dice game, you can always go back, they’ll still be there, and “next stop is the Eastside Motel …” Plus the opening, the line “Regulators!!!! Mount up!” never fails to make me laugh. Music should make you laugh. Or at least have fun. Which I’m guessing “Warren to the G” and his “homey Nate” did with those girls at said Eastside Motel …
41. “Fooled Around and Fell In Love” by Elvin Bishop. Always said this should be the personal anthem of DJ. I stand behind that statement. Plus it’s a really neat song. The original version though – Rod Stewart damned near roo-eened this song for me with his “remake” a couple years ago.
40. “Down With the Sickness” by Disturbed. Bar none, THIS is my favorite song on the tailgating CDs at Arrowhead. The second the opening drum beats start, I always start “playing” the drums with my hands. And once the full on sound kicks in, I start nodding the head like I’m in a f*cking mosh pit or something. I absolutely LOVE this song. If you aren’t fired up and ready to kick some ass when this thing hits the first chorus, then check your pulse, you probably don’t have one.
Honorable mention: “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” by Joe Nichols. Another tailgating staple that never, ever gets old. God help me if I ever date someone who that song applies to. It’s bad enough vodka, shiraz, beer … hell, insert liquor here, makes my t-shirt magically disappear at a moment’s notice if it’s a nice, sunny, humid afternoon …
39. “The Best of What’s Around” by Dave Matthews Band. Another “should be the personal anthem of my life” song, but my “personal anthem” is just that much better. “Whatever tears at us / Whatever holds us down / And if nothing can be done / We’ll make the best of what’s around”.
38. “Get It Like You Like It” by Ben Harper. Hey, my favorite artist’s first appearance! Don’t worry, he’s got at least one more coming up. Down 0-3, down 4-3 in the bottom of the 9th, to the Evil Empire … and then Dave Roberts happened. Then David Ortiz kept happening. Then the Bloody Sock happened. And finally … “But Johnny Damon swung a bat / Grand slam! That was that! / 86 years and the Curse was gone!” It also doesn’t hurt that one of the two or three best concerts I’ve ever attended was Ben Harper in a monsoon at Starlight in support of this cd, “Both Sides of the Gun”.
37. “God Only Knows” by the Beach Boys. Entertainment Weekly hails this as the greatest pop song ever recorded. I honestly can’t argue with that assessment. Love this song. “God only knows what I’d be without you.” Hopefully I someday (soon?) find someone I can truly say that about.
Honorable mention: “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” by the Beach Boys. There’s a fantastic scene about ten minutes into “Roger and Me”, before you meet Sheriff Fred and The Rabbit Lady and the Color Lady and that crazy tourism director who, for a brief moment, actually makes you root for GM -- right after GM chairman Roger B. Smith (voted by Fortune as the “worst CEO of the 20th Century”, and I’m guessing there was NO competition for that title) announces he’s shutting down over 200,000 jobs in Michigan (and most of those were in Flint) and shipping them to Mexico. Anyways, a plant friend of Michael Moore’s named Ben describes why he voluntarily committed himself to a mental institution. Basically, he got the layoff notice, realized life as everyone knew it in Flint was over, so he walked off the job, got in his car, is driving along crying and depressed, and then this song came on. That’s when he knew he was crazy and needed help. The moral? I have no idea. Other than every time I hear this song, I think of that guy Ben, and begin to wonder if maybe today is the day I check myself into Two Rivers over there on Raytown Road. You know, “voluntarily”.
36. “Into the Night” by Benny Mardones. For three reasons. (1) my former boss at “former employer”, this was her favorite song, and I heard it so much, it just grew on me. (2) it’s the theme song to the only sports talk show I listen to. And (3) when Benny appeared on said sports talk show, and told the background story to this song, it was beyond inspiring. I stopped regretting that I love this song after hearing the background.
35. “Gallery” by Mario Vasquez. The great “what could have been” on “Idol”. How screwed up was season five? So screwed up that the three best artists didn’t even reach the Finals (Vasquez quit in the top 12; Daughtry went home 4th, Elliott Yamin went home 3rd.)
34. “Dancin’ on the Ceiling” by Lionel Richie. Track 59-14 on the jukebox in the basement. Yes, I know it by memory. Love this song. Four fun minutes of “screw it, just sing along and have fun!” entertainment.
33. “The Jazz Singer (America)” by Neil Diamond. You have no soul if this song doesn’t affect you.
32. “Anthem of Our Dying Day” by Story of the Year. Wow, I thought this one would be much higher. Love this song. One of my favorite cd’s ever released. And yet, there’s 31 I like better. Unbelievable. “From up here the city lights burn / Like a thousand miles of fire / And I’m here to sing this anthem / Of our dying day!”
31. “(I Hate) Everything About You” by Three Days Grace. I’ve had a few of these relationships with people. “I hate everything about you! / Why do I love you?” Plus, this is one of THE best live bands you’ll ever see. Along with …
Honorable Mention: “Falling Away From Me” by Korn. I hated, I mean HATED, Korn with a passion for a long time. And then came August 24, 2004. Projekt Revolution. I’ve detailed how sh*tty that time in my life was elsewhere on this site (scroll down to the answer for number 16 on the Quiz Answers from July 2008.) Their set that night was one of the best 45 minutes of my life. Could not believe how awesome these guys are live. I can say with no doubt whatsoever that the main three of us there that night (me, Gregg, DJ), this was the band we were least looking forward to. And they delivered the best set of the night. I’d absolutely pay top dollar to watch these guys again, just tell me when and where.
30. “Hands Held High” by Linkin Park. Hey, another band there that magical night in late August 2004. They brought the house down to close the night out. This isn’t their best effort, but as a political lefty, it pretty much summed up exactly how I felt about the previous administration. (The irony? You can absolutely use this song to describe the current administration.)
29. “Come On Get Higher” by Matt Nathanson. Matt was on The Pulse during the drive into work Friday, and he performed this live. “Yeah, the song about getting naked with someone you like to have fun with!” Cracked me up. To be fair, the Sugarland version is very good, but Jennifer Nettles can’t sell what makes this song great like Matt does, “I miss the pull of your heart / I taste the sparks on your tongue / I see angels and devils and God / When you COME … on”, the way he accentuates the word “Come”, it just totally sells the song, totally puts you in the, uuh, mood to “get naked with someone you like to have fun with!”
28. “Lawyers, Guns and Money” by Warren Zevon. I blame my dad for this one – he is a huge Zevon fan. But this song did give rise to one of the greatest catch phrases in history. “I was hiding in Honduras / I’m a desperate man. / Send lawyers, guns and money / (wait for it … wait for it …) The Shit Has Hit the Fan!!!” Any song that created that magical six word phrase, has to rank somewhere in my top 50.
27. “Mr. Tamborine Man” by the Byrds. You know what I hate the most about modern music? Other than the auto-tuner that every damned song seems to employ? Its that there’s no creative wording anymore. You don’t have to come up with codes or word embedding to say what you’re singing about. This song is about a freaking junkie praying his supplier gets him another fix. And yet, if you aren’t looking for it, you’d never know. Our folks music was so much better than 99.99% of what passes as “hip” now. And what the hell, one more by Bob:
Honorable Mention: “Just Like a Woman” by Bob Dylan. His last major hit, and man, it’s a classic. If, you know, you think the absolutely ridiculous, stupid, petty sh*t your girl makes you do to make the relationship work is absolutely ridiculous, stupid, and petty. (Should probably note: with two glaring exceptions? (And out of about 20 options, that ain’t bad.) None of my friends are married to (or dating) someone like that. Thank God. There’s nothing more annoying than having to put up with the know-it-all who’s roo-eening … I mean, running, my buddy’s life straight into the ground. Nobody wants to be around that girl. Especially me.)
26. “Let’s Live for Today” by The Grass Roots. This is one of my mom’s absolute favorite songs. And it’s really good. I mean, really good.
(Hey, we’re give or take a couple honorable mentions, halfway home! And I just started page 7 in Word! I’d have lost that over/under prop. Of course, I haven’t come completely off the rails yet with a timely “wait, where’s he going with thi … oh, I see” rant yet. And next up on the countdown … oh boy, here we go …)
25. “How Deep Is Your Love” by the Bee Gees. What, it’s the love theme from my favorite movie of all time. It plays over one of the coolest final moment (yet absolutely unbelievable final scene) ever filmed. I could write a paper on why “Saturday Night Fever” is the best movie ever made. (Wait, I have done that, never mind. And I got an A on that winning effort, thank you very much.) This song perfectly nails the ending to that movie. Even if, as noted, said ending is so completely unrealistic, it nearly roo-eens the previous 145 minutes.
(And allow me to rant on that point for a second. Come on, we’re 30 plus songs in, and I haven’t ranted yet, I am LONG overdue.
Look it, I love “Fever”. It is truly the best movie ever made. And if you don’t believe me, please remember that the late, great Gene Siskel so loved this movie, that he owned Travolta’s white polyester suit from the “finale” to the movie. Because as he freely admitted, this movie got to him. As it does me, for much the same reason: it’s the life you’ll never enjoy … and yet, as much as you’d want to live Tony’s life, you’re grateful to every diety known to man that you’ll never have it.
If you’ve never seen the movie, and someone asks you about it, you instantly know three scenes off the top of your head, because it’s so ingrained in pop culture: (1) Travolta’s strut back to the paint store in the opening credits (to “Stayin’ Alive”), (2) Travolta’s dance sequence on the checkerboard disco floor (that sadly introduced the nation to a then unknown Fran Drescher. Although she does get off one of the ten best lines in the movie: “are you as good in bed as you are on the floor?” Slays me every time.) And (3) the final dance competition with Stephanie and Tony, where Tony wears the famous white suit.
(Also cool? Here’s your random trivia fact of the post. The Bee Gees never officially released “More Than a Woman” as a single, even though it charted into the top 5. Their version is used in the final dance showdown mentioned above … but the released single was the Tavares version. Radio stations and fans loved the Bee Gees version better, so they decided “screw it, we’re playing this” instead of Tavares’ effort. And that’s today’s Stevo “Good Call of the Column!”, because the Tavares version is AWFUL. As in “haul out the Chuck Barkley voice “TURRIBLE!” awful.)
The movie spends 140 minutes building to that final competition. It’s the only thing it seemingly builds toward. Then you hit the dance competition, in a stunner to no one, Tony and Stephanie win it, it’s a rewarding conclusion … only psych! It’s not the conclusion, it’s the catalyst! The three most important scenes in the movie occur AFTER the scene the entire movie builds towards!
(Why “Saturday Night Fever” kicks ass and takes names 101. If you haven’t seen it, you need to. It’s ok, this column will still be here two hours and twenty some odd minutes from right now, if you wanna divert yourself to Netflix for that long and finally watch it. Just be prepared for gratuitous female nudity, an obscene amount of foul language, recreational drug use wide out in the open, casual sex about every fifteen minutes, horrendous racial stereo-typing that ultimately results in a racial brawl, and (actually, my favorite yet saddest plot line) the absolutely sh*tty way Tony treats Annette, and how that relationship ultimately gets “resolved”. It’s why I hate all but the last 30 some odd seconds of the final scene so much … hang on, we’re getting to that, I’m ahead of myself again …)
The final three scenes are by far and away the best, or at least the most important, ten minutes of the movie. Each in its own way. The scene in the car, the scene on the “Brooklyn Bridge” (anyone who’s ever spent time in New York, and God knows I have thanks to my dad’s side of the family, knows that’s the Verrazano heading out to Staten Island, not the Brooklyn headed into Manhattan, that they film Bobby’s big scene that comes out of nowhere in a “holy sh*t!!!” kind of way on. Way to insult everyone’s intelligence there, producers), and the final scene in Stephanie’s brownstone that makes me hurl empty beer cans at the TV every time it’s on.
And then that final scene. Sorry, but there isn’t a shot in hell Stephanie would have let Tony into her brownstone given the events of the night before. Let alone reached détente in the windowsill. Not a shot in holy hell. I will grant you, had Tony been up front at the door about the events leading to his arrival at her brownstone, then maybe, just maybe, the final scene is believable. But he wasn’t. “Nuthin. I’ll tell ya lata.” And still she let him in. She even questions her own sanity in doing so: “letting a known (won’t reveal it) into my apartment?” And she even verbally throws down with him: “really? Be friends with a girl? Can you actually be friends with a girl?” (The rebuttal, which saves the scene: “Honestly? I dunno. But I wanna find out.” From that point on, the scene is cool with me. But the 90 seconds leading into that final huddle in the windowsill of the absolutely gorgeous brownstone (that there isn’t a shot in hell Stephanie could afford on her secretary salary, even in 1976) on the East Side, is so utterly unbelievable, requires such a suspension of reason, that it cheapens the brilliant closing moment. End rant, back to the countdown, if I can remember what the hell number I’m down to.)
24. “All or Nothing” by Theory of a Deadman. Hey, a song released in the last 12 months finally appears! (There’s at least two more coming up, I’m not completely against modern pop music …)
23. “Somewhere Only We Know” by Keane. I love the stripped down version of this that The Coffee House plays, and it’s the version Blake did on “Idol” four years ago. Even the main version of this though is so good, that I never turn the channel when it’s on.
22. “Yeah!” by Usher, Lil’ Jon, and Ludacris. How this wasn’t voted the 2000s best overall song, I have no idea. How Rolling Stone didn’t even include it in the TOP 100, is an outrage that the feds should be investigating.
21. “Burn One Down” by Ben Harper. Life flows by so much more peacefully, relaxingly, and pleasantly when you enjoy “the gift from the earth”. Because “what’s from the earth is of the greatest worth”. Or something like that.
20. “Bye Bye Bye” by NSYNC. My one dance move guaranteed to bring the house down.
19. “You Never Even Called Me By My Name” by David Allen Coe. Dear God, do I love this song! Yes, Mr. Coe, it IS the perfect “country and western song”. Along with another one your good buddy Steve Goodman wrote …
Honorable Mention: “City of New Orleans”, by Willie Nelson. Come on, even ALF knew the lyrics! “Good mornin’ America, how are ya? / Pleased to know you, I’m your native son! / I’m the train they call the City of New Orleans! / And I’ll be gone 500 miles when the day is done!”
18. “Come Monday” by Jimmy Buffett. My favorite Buffett song. Although I love his cover of CSN’s “Southern Cross” that he closes down every concert with almost as much.
17. “Fantasy” by Earth, Wind, and Fire. I will be seeing these guys in less than two weeks, and I am beyond ecstatic. “Every man has a place / In his heart, there’s a space / And the world can’t erase his fantasy …”
16. “Sinners Like Me” by Eric Church. Another song that could be a perfect anthem for my life … if only it had been released before said actual anthem of Stevo’s life. (It’s at most 15 numbered selections away … although hell, anyone who knows me or has read this site knows what said “anthem” is …)
15. “More Than This” by Matt Nathanson. I keep changing what my favorite by this guy is, it veers between this, “Come On Get Higher”, and the two honorable mentions coming up right about now …
Honorable Mention: “Answering Machine” by Matt Nathanson, and
Honorable Mention: “Heartbreak World” by Matt Nathanson.
At the end of the day, I probably go with “More Than This” because man, the lyrics are that good. But they are with “Heartbreak World” as well, that was released at a time I was living that song in real life. And if you don’t get the urge to get at least a little frisky hearing the bridge in “Come On Get Higher”, then it’s probably time to start taking some pills to get the sex drive engaged.
14. “Sydney” by Brett Dennen. Hey, a song actually released IN THIS CALENDAR YEAR!!! (kazoo voice) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Absolutely love this effort out of him. The other song released this year I am totally and completely digging …
Honorable Mention: “Start a Fire” by Ryan Star. Give this song a chance, ditto his “Breathe” debut single that came out before this. This kid’s got a bright, bright future in front of him. (And yes, I am fully aware he is the exact same age as me. I used the term “kid” for a reason dammit.) He’s got a really Daughtry sounding voice and sound to his stuff. His 11:59 cd is well worth the download on iTunes.
13. “Jesus of Suburbia” by Green Day. “American Idiot”, for all of its overhype and (predictable) backlash against said overhype, is a truly great cd. And this is by far and away the best song on it.
12. “It’s My Life” by Bon Jovi. Of course this song is making my top 20. I don’t think it stopped playing in my car cd player from the day it was released until about 3 years later. I absolutely LOVE this song. Well hell, I absolutely LOVE every song on this countdown, I just happen to love it a little less than 11 others, plus whatever honorable mentions I sneak in between now and the (possibly) predictable numero uno.
Honorable Mention: “You Give Love a Bad Name”, originally by Bon Jovi, but so cleverly and amazingly remixed by Blake Lewis. His version is pure genius. “Idol”’s finest hour.
11. (Three Way Tie). Come on, I hadn’t done a tie yet!
11a. “I Think the World Needs a Drink” by Terri Clark.
11b. “I Like Beer” by Tom T. Hall.
11c. “Mas Tequila” by Van Halen.
I can’t disagree with a word in any of these winning efforts. Other than I do like wine, unlike Tom T. Hall.
Well, we’re here, the top 10! Let’s get it started! (And nope, that craptacular tune by the worst band in America that has a recording contract is not appearing anywhere on this post.)
10. “Wherever You Will Go” by the Calling. This song’s always kind of struck me the right way. Love the sound, love the words, hey, what can I say, I’m a sucker for sappy stuff sometimes.
9. “I and Love and You” by the Avett Brothers. Another great breakup song, only far more modern than the others listed so far (and the one still to go at number 7). It’s just a great listen.
8. “Tyler” by the Toadies. “Possum Kingdom” might be my favorite cd of all time. (It’s damned close. Get me in the right mood, I’d vote it number one.) Texas’ finest alternative band of the 90s, and this was their best effort. Plus, one of the last nights I spent in college, and in Texas, was an impromptu “let’s hit up the Hard Rock, what the hell” night (my brother had just come in for my graduation, it was a Thursday in mid December). So me, Drew, my roommates, Mike and Niko, a couple others, head on over to that amazing converted chapel on Pearl Street and McKinney, walk in the door, and wouldn’t you know it, Frank had set me up! God I loved that guy, co-best roomie ever with Vineet, “The Voice of Reason” and “The Champ”. (I ain’t picking; you four all rock.)
Apparently he knew the Toadies were doing a concert at the Hard Rock that night for that “Hard Rock Live” show VH1 used to air. I will never forget how awesome this night was. Especially when they closed the set with “Tyler”. Plus the song itself, it’s so freaking perfect, especially in the second half. At the risk of offending any single religious people who read this that take that whole “don’t screw until you’re married” idea to heart, uuh, if you have never been in the position of the dude the song is singing about, especially as it hits its finale, you haven’t lived buddy, you freaking haven’t lived.
7. “Silver Springs” by Fleetwood Mac. Late summer 1997: I’m entering my junior year in college. (And yes, this is “the semester”, when I went from a solid 3.8 student to a barely scraping a 2.0 because that damned 007 game came out on the N64. Between that and Mario Kart, coupled with one roommate now being legal, and the other one loving an herbal remedy, I think I pulled off a minor miracle at getting a 2.0.) MTV stages the Fleetwood Mac reunion concert, and “The Dance” cd of its recording is a huge hit. I’m already a huge fan – after all, I grew up in a family where dad’s radio never leaves 101 the Fox, mom’s rarely left Oldies 95, and as even back then a “way too into politics for his own good” liberal, of COURSE I loved The Mac, they did Clinton’s election theme song after all!
So, this is the cd in my Discman. (Fine, fine, stop yelling – a Discman was a very bulky iPod predecessor that played cd’s, only it skipped so much as you walked along from class to class that you eventually just gave up trying to listen. Although once you got to lab or class, and could set that thing on solid footing, it was golden.) And my roomies Vineet and Frank just give me all kinds of sh*t for the first week. (My favorite? “Dude, how can you listen to sh*t our folks love?” And that was from the guy I went to an Eagles concert with on his dime. Uuh, yeah. We didn’t have a combined 4.3 GPA between the three of us for nothing that semester! I kid, I kid, I think it was 4.8.) Anyways, one night, we’re sitting around doing what we do best (aka “enjoying a couple cold ones and burning one down”), they start in again on the cd, and I’ve had it. In a rare show of spine, I’m like “fine, here, listen to the god d*mned thing, and if you still hate it by song six, I’ll never listen to it again!”
We went to the reunion tour concert at (ironically enough) Reunion Arena not even six weeks later. This song is the cd’s best effort, it’s Stevie Nicks finally, after years of having to hear Lindsey rip her every day via “Go Your Own Way”, FINALLY, she gets revenge. And man, the last 90 seconds, the final chorus, you can literally taste the hate in this song. It takes her a solid 15 seconds to calm down enough just to end the song, she’s waited so long for this moment. Awesome stuff.
6. “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey. If I have to explain why this is in my top ten, just start clicking various links on the side of the page. Particularly anything having to do with Top 4 Idol night this past season, or “The Sopranos”, or KU Football from 2007.
5. “One Step Closer” by Linkin Park. Quite possibly the best five minutes of my life that didn’t involve me (a) being high, (b) being drunk, or (c) having some fun with a member of the opposite sex. Oh wait, I was two of the three, and son of a b*tch, you can probably guess the one that wasn’t happening. Linkin Park closed down Projekt Revolution in 2004 at Sandstone with this song, and I gotta say, this might be the highlight of my life musically. I’ve mentioned elsewhere on this site why that night and that concert meant so much to me, but man, I actually am sitting here shaking my head, with a big goofy grin on my face, fighting back tears, remembering that moment from that night. “Cause I’m One Step Closer to the edge / And I’m about to break!!!” I can still see myself head-slamming, pounding the fist, jumping up and down … and I wasn’t the only one. (Sorry “Champ”, you know you were too. Ditto “The Voice of Reason”.) The best concert I’ve ever been to, and I’d do it again tomorrow if I had the chance. What a night. And what a song.
Honorable Mention: “Work” by Jimmy Eat World. “Futures”, for anyone who cares, is my favorite cd of all time pretty much any time you ask me. “Work” for years and years and years (ok, six or seven years) was always fourth on my top four songs, behind three of the next four about to appear. But as time goes along, one of these remaining four just keeps growing more and more on me. So now “Work” is an honorable mention, somewhere in the top 10 if I’m being honest, but why start now, I am a Democrat after all.
4. “Perfect Memory” by Remy Zero. The next two songs, you probably have never heard of the artist performing said song, and even odds you’ve never heard the song itself. So do yourself a favor and Youtube! it. This was my late buddy James’ favorite song, and you’re damned right I cried when they played this at his funeral mass. It’s sadly, a perfect description of his life. Rest in peace buddy.
(Second random trivia note of the post: Remy Zero only had one minor hit … and this song wasn’t it. Nope, they did the theme song to “Smallville”! When your biggest “hit” is scoring the theme song to the what, 110th, 111th rated show, uuh … and yet, an even LOWER rated show’s theme song is still to come!!! And you bet your sweet ass it’s “Stevo’s Anthem in Life”!!! Oy …)
3. “Second Place Victory” by This Day and Age. And here’s a band that had zip, zero, nada major hits. They had a minor one (apparently) in New England and the upper East with this one.
And I can totally understand why. There’s nothing wrong with a “Second Place Victory” in life. Someday, I hope to win one.
And now, the toughest part of the post … and we’re only on page 13, so I am well short of “longest post ever” status.
On the one hand, is the song that I have said is my “personal anthem in life”, is the theme song to (arguably) the worst show still on network television (even if, as I freely admit, I totally love the show, am absolutely addicted to it, and I have seen every second of every minute of every hour of every episode of said television show between original airings and SoapNet reruns …), and it’s one of my favorite artists signature songs, if not THE signature song by him.
On the other hand, you have a song that only one “Idol” contestant has ever performed on that show, and the second David Cook launched into it, I feared DJ and “deadbeat ex roomie” were about to evict me, I was so totally digging it. Plus, it’s the song that for years I listened to walking into Arrowhead to get me into the proper mindset for GameDay, and it’s just one amazing rock anthem to boot. So, your top two Stevo Favorite Songs are …
2. “I Don’t Wanna Be” by Gavin DeGraw. From the second you see Lucas Scott dribbling the basketball on the railroad bridge as the three opening piano notes hit, you’re f*cking hooked on this song. (Yes, it’s the theme song to “One Tree Hill”, although, in my defense … well, I have no defense, I’ve seen every moment “One Tree Hill” has ever broadcast. Not even “Unfrozen Cave Man Lawyer” could get me off for this offensive of a television pleasure. But in my defense – I loved this song before it was “Tree Hill”’s theme song. Because Gavin DeGraw is that damned good.)
I don’t wanna be anything
Other than what I’ve been
Trying to be lately,
All I have to do
Is think of me
And I have peace of mind.
I’m tired of looking around rooms,
Wondering what I’m supposed to do,
Or who I’m supposed to be.
I don’t wanna be anything other than … me.
Perfection. Only, not quite, because my favorite song from when I launched this site, is still at the top of the charts …
1. “Innocent” by Our Lady Peace. Some people I know, enter Arrowhead listening to “Lose Yourself” by Eminem. Some entered to “Boom!” by POD. Some get fired up by “Down With the Sickness” by Disturbed. (OK, I cop to that too. Wait, I already did. It’s wickedly inspiring.)
But THIS … THIS is THE fire you up anthem in life. Or at least to me it is. The story of a struggling musician offered the break of a lifetime – sell out and record a pop hit, over staying true to your principles. You’ve got your dreams, your vision … but now you have a sick girl, you’ve got bills, you’ve got pressures … “and I remember feeling low, and I remember losing hope, and I remember all the feelings …”
And the day they stopped.
We are.
We are all innocent.
We are all innocent.
We are, we are.
The artist didn’t sell out. He stuck to his guns, so to speak. Ignored the advice. Made it happen on his terms.
“Remember losing hope? Remember feeling low? Remember all the feelings and …”
The day they stopped.
We all got something to contribute to this life. I’ll be damned if I know what my contribution is, other than horrendous dancing to “Bye Bye Bye”, 15 page countdowns on my 50 favorite songs that somehow reach 70 plus songs, and ensuring potato farmers everywhere can at least hawk their product on the secondary market as the beginnings of a vodka crop. But man, I love this song. We are all “innocent”. We all have our shot to make it. It’s up to us to do it. God knows I’ve failed many a time or 1,938,538,562. But I’m still “innocent”. I can still make it happen. As can anyone else.
As always, questions, comments, thoughts, or angry grizzley-bear like reactions -- unlike some people, I don’t censor or block your thoughts. You can hit the comments below, or hit me up at Facebook or Twitter or Yahoo IM! at teamtito15. It might take me a while to reply, but eventually I do ...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)