Charlotte's Web. I mean, think about it. A spider saved a pig from being eaten by a human using words brought to it by a rat, which rat obtained those words from garbage at the fairgrounds? If that's not crazy, I don't know what is . . .
And you know who the real hero of that story is? Me. Because it takes two to tell a story, one to tell and another to listen.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
It was all a dream . . .
So I spent the afternoon watching Jordan commercials on Youtube. An afternoon well spent, I assure you.
As I watched these commercials a shadow of a vision crept into my mind. At first, the vision eluded my sight. A vision that could not be seen! "How could it be?" I wondered. Every time I turned to look, the vision went away. The vision's shadow was all that could be seen. Every time the vision eluded my sight, my desire to see it increased.
And then, like a Friday afternoon, it was there. It's presence was fleeting, but vivid. I will describe what I saw as best I can, although candidly, I feel my description will be inadequate.
_____________________
A son on his way home from college. A father, awaiting his son's arrival. The arrival. Son, brimming with newfound confidence, challenges father to a game of basketball. "I've been playing a lot more lately," son confesses. "Let's see what you've got," is father's only reply.
Son and father change into shorts and shoes.
Son feels it is his time. The first in a series of moments he was born to experience. His apotheosis.
Father, weary, tries to shake out the stiffness of too many winters in his joints. "Let's see what you've got," he tells himself.
The game. Son gets an early lead. "Transcend," he tells himself. Father does not worry. He lacks the confidence of youth, but he has the wisdom of age. "Transcend," he whispers.
Then, it happens. A breeze pushes father's jumpshot through the rim. "There you are," he thinks, as his old friend returns.
A few quick points and father takes the lead. Son begins to panic as his plans begin to unravel. "This was not how it was supposed to happen," flashes through son's mind.
Father hits another jumpshot. "Great D," he says, "I thought you had me on that one." A comment intended to reassure misses its mark and enhances Son's exasperation. Much like an engine, which takes time to warm up such that it runs at peak efficiency, Father's game revs. He feeds on son's now-suffocated fire.
"Show him what you've got," Father tells himself. And he does.
Thirty three points to son's eleven later, Father has had enough. Son had enough twenty points ago, but the shame of quitting before the old man would have been greater than the shame of losing.
"Good game," Father reassures son. "Now, let's go eat."
_____________________
And that was the image whose shadow haunted me. As it's presence was only temporary, I soon found myself a new activity to pursue . . .
Oh, and here's the Jordan commercial that inspired all this.
As I watched these commercials a shadow of a vision crept into my mind. At first, the vision eluded my sight. A vision that could not be seen! "How could it be?" I wondered. Every time I turned to look, the vision went away. The vision's shadow was all that could be seen. Every time the vision eluded my sight, my desire to see it increased.
And then, like a Friday afternoon, it was there. It's presence was fleeting, but vivid. I will describe what I saw as best I can, although candidly, I feel my description will be inadequate.
_____________________
A son on his way home from college. A father, awaiting his son's arrival. The arrival. Son, brimming with newfound confidence, challenges father to a game of basketball. "I've been playing a lot more lately," son confesses. "Let's see what you've got," is father's only reply.
Son and father change into shorts and shoes.
Son feels it is his time. The first in a series of moments he was born to experience. His apotheosis.
Father, weary, tries to shake out the stiffness of too many winters in his joints. "Let's see what you've got," he tells himself.
The game. Son gets an early lead. "Transcend," he tells himself. Father does not worry. He lacks the confidence of youth, but he has the wisdom of age. "Transcend," he whispers.
Then, it happens. A breeze pushes father's jumpshot through the rim. "There you are," he thinks, as his old friend returns.
A few quick points and father takes the lead. Son begins to panic as his plans begin to unravel. "This was not how it was supposed to happen," flashes through son's mind.
Father hits another jumpshot. "Great D," he says, "I thought you had me on that one." A comment intended to reassure misses its mark and enhances Son's exasperation. Much like an engine, which takes time to warm up such that it runs at peak efficiency, Father's game revs. He feeds on son's now-suffocated fire.
"Show him what you've got," Father tells himself. And he does.
Thirty three points to son's eleven later, Father has had enough. Son had enough twenty points ago, but the shame of quitting before the old man would have been greater than the shame of losing.
"Good game," Father reassures son. "Now, let's go eat."
_____________________
And that was the image whose shadow haunted me. As it's presence was only temporary, I soon found myself a new activity to pursue . . .
Oh, and here's the Jordan commercial that inspired all this.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Bear Grylls
I just watched Bear Grylls catch a stream trout with his hands, bite its head off, then eat it raw.
To top it off, he was all like, "Mmm, that was delicious!"
This is not the first time he's done something like this, nor is the stream trout the least appetizing meal that Grylls has referred to as "delicious."
The man that bites fish heads off and eats them raw now endorses Trail Mix Cereal. Would you eat a cereal this guy says is good? What does it taste like Bear? Is it as "delicious" as raw stream trout?
TAMT is going to guess . . . Yes.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
The Lei of the Land
I'm still in Hawaii, "reporting" on a homework assignment I gave myself when I realized I was going to have 10 days with essentially nothing to do: read The Yankee Years.
There's a lot of controversy surrounding the book, but it is both literally and figuratively yesterday's news as the A-Rod/A-Roid/Ster-Rod scandal broke, and then pitchers and catchers reported with CC Sabathia and A.J. Burnett taking the smallest rings in the Yankees' media circus. But despite the depressing fact that our over-indulgent society can't maintain focus on anything for longer than it takes a sailor on shore leave to find the nearest hooker, I decided it was still my duty to read, absorb, and understand what all the fuss was about.
So far, not a lot. I'm about 160 pages deep and these are the conclusions I've drawn:
1) Tom Verducci is not that great of a writer.
2) Roger Clemens is a weird, weird man.
3) I don't think Torre has screwed anyone over (so far).
I'll address ever issue by point, as this will turn into a week long saga, I'm sure.
1) This book is bland. The only reason I keep reading it is because I love the Yankees and the first 155 pages were about how amazing they were in '96-'00. The last five pages I read were a horrible re-living of the '01 Series against the Diamondbacks in which the game was wrapped up then stolen in the way the Yankees had stolen wins for the past five years; but that was just brutal and I had to relive it at some point.
Verducci's metaphors are primarily tied to combat and military existence - anything else comes off only a little less clumsily than Johnny Damon trying to hit the cutoff man when he's playing shallow center. It's not that Verducci's that bad, it's just that he's that not good, which is unbefitting of Yankee Pride.
That, and so far Brian McNamee is quoted just as much as Joe Torre. I'm calling shenanigans.
2) Roger: He is an asshole. He has thrown anyone and everyone under the bus and this book explains some of that behavior, but does not condone it. But for all the shit that has been written about him, and for all the shit he has actually done, this is one thing I didn't need to know. I direct you to a gem from page 132:
There was so much to hink about before even throwing a pitch. Clemens lost himself in his usual pregame preparation, which typically began with cranking the whirlpool to its hottest possible temperature. "He'd come out looking like a lobster," trainer Steve Donahue said. Donahure than [this is a typo from the book, not me] would rub hot liniment all over Clemens' body, "from his ankles to his wrists," Donahue said. Then Donahue would rub the hottest possibl liniment on his testicles. "He'd start snorting like a bull," the trainer said. "That's when he was ready to pitch." (Verducci and Torre, 132)
Marinate on that.
3) So far everything Joe has said has been honest and hasn't really busted anyone's chops. Are there maybe a few too many comments about how some players had trouble handling pressure? Yeah, but at the same time, he's just giving accurate accounts of his Yankee years. So far, I am glad Joe sticks by everything he has said, but am also convinced a lot more of this has to do with Verducci than Torre.
And on that note, I'm going to watch the sun set over the bay, and drink until I can no longer think about a grown man admitting that his job was to rub liniment on Roger Clemens' balls. That's how men celebrate Valentine's Day.
There's a lot of controversy surrounding the book, but it is both literally and figuratively yesterday's news as the A-Rod/A-Roid/Ster-Rod scandal broke, and then pitchers and catchers reported with CC Sabathia and A.J. Burnett taking the smallest rings in the Yankees' media circus. But despite the depressing fact that our over-indulgent society can't maintain focus on anything for longer than it takes a sailor on shore leave to find the nearest hooker, I decided it was still my duty to read, absorb, and understand what all the fuss was about.
So far, not a lot. I'm about 160 pages deep and these are the conclusions I've drawn:
1) Tom Verducci is not that great of a writer.
2) Roger Clemens is a weird, weird man.
3) I don't think Torre has screwed anyone over (so far).
I'll address ever issue by point, as this will turn into a week long saga, I'm sure.
1) This book is bland. The only reason I keep reading it is because I love the Yankees and the first 155 pages were about how amazing they were in '96-'00. The last five pages I read were a horrible re-living of the '01 Series against the Diamondbacks in which the game was wrapped up then stolen in the way the Yankees had stolen wins for the past five years; but that was just brutal and I had to relive it at some point.
Verducci's metaphors are primarily tied to combat and military existence - anything else comes off only a little less clumsily than Johnny Damon trying to hit the cutoff man when he's playing shallow center. It's not that Verducci's that bad, it's just that he's that not good, which is unbefitting of Yankee Pride.
That, and so far Brian McNamee is quoted just as much as Joe Torre. I'm calling shenanigans.
2) Roger: He is an asshole. He has thrown anyone and everyone under the bus and this book explains some of that behavior, but does not condone it. But for all the shit that has been written about him, and for all the shit he has actually done, this is one thing I didn't need to know. I direct you to a gem from page 132:
There was so much to hink about before even throwing a pitch. Clemens lost himself in his usual pregame preparation, which typically began with cranking the whirlpool to its hottest possible temperature. "He'd come out looking like a lobster," trainer Steve Donahue said. Donahure than [this is a typo from the book, not me] would rub hot liniment all over Clemens' body, "from his ankles to his wrists," Donahue said. Then Donahue would rub the hottest possibl liniment on his testicles. "He'd start snorting like a bull," the trainer said. "That's when he was ready to pitch." (Verducci and Torre, 132)
Marinate on that.
3) So far everything Joe has said has been honest and hasn't really busted anyone's chops. Are there maybe a few too many comments about how some players had trouble handling pressure? Yeah, but at the same time, he's just giving accurate accounts of his Yankee years. So far, I am glad Joe sticks by everything he has said, but am also convinced a lot more of this has to do with Verducci than Torre.
And on that note, I'm going to watch the sun set over the bay, and drink until I can no longer think about a grown man admitting that his job was to rub liniment on Roger Clemens' balls. That's how men celebrate Valentine's Day.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Pitchers and Catchers Reported...
...and it was good.
This pleased TAMT, and there was much rejoicing.
This TAMT contributor is currently vacationing in Hawaii, far away from my frozen, hardy northeastern roots, and on this glorious, perhaps second most wonderful day of the year (second only to Opening Day), I have only one suggestion to the great state of Hawaii:
Professional (or semi-pro) baseball teams all year round.
Not to rub it in the face of anyone who isn't lounging in 80 degree temperature at nine in the morning, but Hawaii is missing a serious tourist attraction here. Yeah, it's nice to go to sandy beaches and do absolutely nothing, but after I've done nothing, I want to do nothing while watching sports. The strength of Minor League Baseball and the draw it creates has proven that people don't need to see Major League caliber players to enjoy a game. Hell, someone out there has to be watching the WNBA, proof that you don't need to have the best game to be in business.
Even if Hawaii had spring training, extended spring training, and then some rookie leagues, it would be fantastic. Ball can be played here seven days a week, 365 days a year. It generally rains once a day, and sometimes big ol' storms come through, but for the most part, it's uninterupted beauty with untapped potential. Tourism is already booming on these islands, but if I had the option of going to one of two tropical places, and knowing I could watch live baseball at one and not at the other...well, would it even be a choice?
This pleased TAMT, and there was much rejoicing.
This TAMT contributor is currently vacationing in Hawaii, far away from my frozen, hardy northeastern roots, and on this glorious, perhaps second most wonderful day of the year (second only to Opening Day), I have only one suggestion to the great state of Hawaii:
Professional (or semi-pro) baseball teams all year round.
Not to rub it in the face of anyone who isn't lounging in 80 degree temperature at nine in the morning, but Hawaii is missing a serious tourist attraction here. Yeah, it's nice to go to sandy beaches and do absolutely nothing, but after I've done nothing, I want to do nothing while watching sports. The strength of Minor League Baseball and the draw it creates has proven that people don't need to see Major League caliber players to enjoy a game. Hell, someone out there has to be watching the WNBA, proof that you don't need to have the best game to be in business.
Even if Hawaii had spring training, extended spring training, and then some rookie leagues, it would be fantastic. Ball can be played here seven days a week, 365 days a year. It generally rains once a day, and sometimes big ol' storms come through, but for the most part, it's uninterupted beauty with untapped potential. Tourism is already booming on these islands, but if I had the option of going to one of two tropical places, and knowing I could watch live baseball at one and not at the other...well, would it even be a choice?
Thursday, February 12, 2009
PITCHERS AND CATCHERS REPORT
For those of us here at TAMT, the greatest day of the year is upon us. No, we are not talking about Friday the 13th. And, if you think we're talking about Valentines Day then you are beyond our help and should navigate away from this page immediately. This is Talking As Men Talk! None of that nancyboy nonsense will be tolerated in these parts.
The oh so special day to which we refer is SPRING TRAINING! Pitchers and catchers have already reported.
MLB.com put it best when it said:
"This is the moment we all have been waiting for through another inanimate and barren winter. It feels so good when Major League Baseball returns that it actually is worth the pain of having it wrested from our tight grips in late autumn. Were it a 12-month season, there would be no chance to miss it the way we have lately."
And let's face it, we have had plenty of reasons to miss baseball this year. The Super Bowl was a bust. Sure, the game was exciting, but who cares about the Steelers and the Cardinals? Steelers fans are some of the most annoying in sports and Cardinals fans . . . wait, did we just invent a word? Is there such a thing as a Cardinals fan? TAMT will check the dictionary and get back to you.
Had it not been for a fun few weeks of NBA ball, TAMT does not know how we would have survived the winter. How about Lebron dropping 52 on the Knicks just one night after Kobe dropped 61 on the downtrodden Knickerbockers? TAMT was pleased.
But, like the epiphany star that guided the three wise men (think they talked as men talk?) to Jesus, spring training served as the beacon guiding us through the dark months of winter. And if you think its blasphemous to use Jesus as a metaphor for baseball, then you have a total lack of respect for baseball. TAMT shakes its head and says, "shame on you."
For our part, we cannot wait to hear the two greatest words in the English language.
"Play Ball!"
Monday, February 9, 2009
History in the making
Yeah, that's right. History is being made right here, right now. We are Talking as Men Talk. If you don't know what that means - then you don't know us and you don't know our style.
Things Men discuss: Booze, Women, Sports, News, Music (no string quartets, please), and all things awesome.
Things Men do NOT discuss: Our feelings.
That pretty much says it all. This is only the beginning. Big things are happening and they are happening here, soon to happen in an even larger forum. There's a lot on the way. We've got the A-Roid/Ster-Rod scandal to catch up on, we've got the Yankees winning the 2009 World Series despite the media circus, nobody giving a crap about the WNBA, and why the Knicks fans are to be forgiven for cheering for everybody else who plays in the Garden except for the New York Knicks.
And if you don't care what we think - then you're lying, because you're here reading this page.
Things Men discuss: Booze, Women, Sports, News, Music (no string quartets, please), and all things awesome.
Things Men do NOT discuss: Our feelings.
That pretty much says it all. This is only the beginning. Big things are happening and they are happening here, soon to happen in an even larger forum. There's a lot on the way. We've got the A-Roid/Ster-Rod scandal to catch up on, we've got the Yankees winning the 2009 World Series despite the media circus, nobody giving a crap about the WNBA, and why the Knicks fans are to be forgiven for cheering for everybody else who plays in the Garden except for the New York Knicks.
And if you don't care what we think - then you're lying, because you're here reading this page.
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