Not what was intended by nature

The skateboard video aesthetic was never meant to be applied to... golf:

More Benny Hill than Beckham

In case you weren't keeping up with the latest tactical innovations in the beautiful game:

Catania, a team in [Italy]'s top division, unveiled the new look while taking a free kick. The players lined up in a wall and dropped their shorts in an effort to block the goalkeeper's vision.

The Sicilian team carried out the maneuver to perfection Sunday. Three players dropped their shorts practically to their knees so Torino goalie Matteo Sereni couldn't see the kick by Giuseppe Mascara, who scored during Catania's 3-2 victory.

for km

Prisonship Away Game

If my dissertation prospectus marathon were not a marathon, but in fact a four-quarter American Football Derby... Well, I would say we're in the second quarter of an away game: working out of the new workplace, replete with minimal windows, panel lighting and flimsy upholstered conference room chairs. I'm in love, that's right.

I will alternate between a run and shoot offense and a wishbone formation during odd/even quarters. If you read this, please feel free to call in plays from the sidelines.

Who You Got?

I vaguely remember Al Swearengen saying something to the effect of "Declare your intentions or go fuck yourself." The sentiment vaguely applies here. Pick a team and live or die by their fortunes.

Boston: Winner of several World Series in the last few years. Former perennially loser to the Yankess, largely because curses are real and result from trading players that would go on to be the best of all time (further side note, in parentheses form, I have to mention that the Babe was born in Baltimore). Devotees of the "sabermetrics," the use of complicated statistical models to determine whihc players are best and which strategies to employ. Won't steal or bunt. Hated by most of baseball world because of it. Their success is seen as more proof that sabermetrics just doesn't work, largely because every pennant they win is another one Billy Bean didn't.

Los Angeles: Angels version. Formerly the "Los Angeles at Anahiem" Angels. Before that just the "Anahiem" Angels. They are more properly known as the "California" Angels. Spawned a series of godawful movies. Never, ever watch "Angels in the End Zone" no matter much your kids want to watch it. It makes you dumber. Big lumber in the 'Hiem, as the locals call it.

Chicago: White Sox version. Allegedly the working-class team from Chicago. Known mostly for throwing the 1918 World Series for, get this, money. Had a great baseball movie made about it. John Cusak. That John Cusak, quite the actor, no? The "ChiSox" snuck into the playoffs by winning a one-game tie-breaker against the Twins. They are from the worst division in baseball and don't deserve to be here. That said, they will probably go on to win it all. Worse, the sabrematricains predicted disaster for the White Sox, and they tried, but being from a shitty division helps, so they are in and we will never here the end of it.

Tampa Bay: The real darlings of this season. Not given a chance, they have plucked their way into America's heart with their plucky brand of pluck. They have a lot of really good players you have never heard of and their star didn't do well, then managed to finish the season on the DL. If you give them a chance, they will pluck the pluck out of your heart strings. Of course, you'd have to overlook the fact they are from Florida, which consistantly wins the title for most odious of all 50 states. (Sorry, Texas).

Milwaukee: The Brew Crew. When a Milwaukeeite hits a homer, a mule is shoved down a 50-foot slide into a mug of beer. If the mule can drink it's way out, beer-soaked sausages are a dollar off for the next two innings. If the mule drowns, burgers are fifty cents off the rest of the game. Either way, everyone wins. The Brewers are from Wisconsin, so they are obvious underdogs. But they are a team you can love. They will love you back.

Philadelphia: (Everyone, now) E - A - G - L -E - S, EAGLES, EAGLES, EAGLES!!! E - A - G - L -E - S, EAGLES, EAGLES, EAGLES!!! E - A - G - L -E - S, EAGLES, EAGLES, EAGLES!!!
Go Eagles! Come on, you Eagles! Fuck yeah, EAGLES!!!!!!

Los Angeles: Dodgers version. The "Trolley Dodgers" that is. From Brooklyn. Oh I could tell you about how my heart was ripped out when the Dodgers moved from Brooklyn to LA. It was 1958 and I was a young Jewish lad of 12. Oh the games with the Giants! Oh the Polo Grounds Ebbets Field! Serously though, the Dodgers are most famous for destroying a working class neighborhood to build their stadium which was a subplot in a book I read but now can't remember. LA Confidential? And they had a manger who loved pasta and a pitcher who looked to heaven before each pitch and a gimpy guy who hit a homer.

Chicago: Cubs version. The lovable losers. The little team that can't. Traded Babe Ruth for a goat and haven't won the championship since the Indians killed Custer. Formerly owned by a gum magnate, now, I understand, absolutely no one wants to own them. Snuck into the playoffs on the basis of excellent pitching, good hitting, and fielding. Probably be everyone's darling pick, except that everyone on the planet is sick of hearing about the goddam Cubs and how they haven't won since 19-dickity-2.

There you have it. Declare in the comments.

Analogalicious

bumped, because there's absolutely no reason you should have to read my lame joke before this masterpiece - wobs

I had a wonderful working weekend at the Oregon Coast last weekend. I would gladly put AFT 3544 up for "Most Kick-Ass Union: All-Around" if such a competition existed. 16 people working together in harmony and good spirit, willing to do whatever is necessary to make the union better. Love.

The point of this post, however, is to recount two very special people who went above and beyond the call of union brotherhood and entered themselves into a a more special category which has no name. Okay the name is "men," but it would be sexist if I said so.

Our little retreat faced one crisis, namely that there was an Oregon Duck football game happening in the middle of the retreat. It was originally supposed that the game could easily be recorded and viewed when the business portion of the retreat had ended and the more important socializing began. What better way to socialize than over some good clean college football? Kidding, of course. It might surprise you to learn that, in the general, graduate employees are not big fans of the college athletics, believing, instead, that scarce resources might be better used to pay them.

Unfortunately, VCRs have gone the way of American labor unions -- once ubiquitous and useful, but now largely seen as antiquated and annoyingly analog. (BOOM!) There was a VCR on site (we rent a large house), but the remote had long been replaced with a universal remote, which is fine, unless you have a standard video tape, which is good for 2 hours, unless you use the remote to adjust the recording setting from "Standard" to "Extended Long Play." So we were faced with a (potentially) four hour game and a two hour tape. Now, a lot of grad unions would have packed it in right there, devolving into an acrimonious debate about the futility of "taping" anything. Not the GTFF. It was calmly suggested that I purchase another tape when I drove into Waldport to to pick up more wine and beer. Brilliant.

Football watching crisis number two happened when the grocery store in Waldport didn't have blank tapes. And, when you think about it, why the hell would they? The 17 year-old who I asked practically laughed at me. Then he said the words that will haunt my sleep for some time, "I can't think of any place that would have them in this town." I should mention that the game had already started and I was under a tight deadline. But before I mention that, you might find it interesting to know that my sleep was actually haunted last night by a dream wherein I had to stop a suicidally depressed Keith Appleby (no relation) from shooting himself in the head. With a gun. It was pretty intense. Somehow this dream later morphed into me stopping Sarah Palin from shooting herself in the head. Less intense.

Anyway, I was on a deadline and beginning to start my mind whirring about alternatives, if I was unable to secure a second tape. I was driving a short distance down Highway 101 when I noticed a drug store. I hoped that mixed in with the notions and pills might be a dusty old video tape. I should stop here to mention that all of my interactions regarding the video tape were complicated by the fact that I now pronounce the word "video" as "vidja" after Hank Hill in a family-beloved episode of King of the Hill. The fine service industry employees from Waldport suffered repeated queries about the possibility of me purchasing a "vidja tape" from them. As I was walking into the drug store I had a stoke of genius. Failing to secure a regulation video tape, I could attempt to purchase an old video tape from one of the many, many junk antique stores that make their home on the Walport shopping strip and tape over the tabs and use it to record the game. For some reason I was picturing the movie being Curly Sue.

The drug store "used to have" video tapes, but I could tell by the woman's reaction to my question that the "used to" was sometime in the '90s. She did, however, suggest that I check out the Radio Shack. She asked me if I knew where it was, god bless her sweet little heart. After getting directions, I started out. On the the half-mile journey to the Shack, I passed a video store, a grocery store larger than the one I had patronized earlier, and an ACE-brand hardware store. All potential tape-purchasing resources. Lesson here? Do not trust 17-year-olds in Waldport to help you find technology that was being phased out when they were born.

The Shack had two options for me, the regular "6 hour" tape or the super "9 hour" tape. The "9 hour" tape -- really a three hour tape without the ELP -- would come in handy if the game went into OT, but it was $5.99 as opposed to $1.99 for the regular tape. I made the snap decision to save the four bucks and go standard.

All went smoothly as far as swapping the tapes out. It happened to be halftime when I went downstairs where the tv was playing the game -- I loudly sang the UO fight song in case the announcers were talking about how awesome Oregon was looking and kept my eyes lowered, unnecessarily as it turned out. Those paying attention might notice that having one tape completed at half time means that we are pushing it for getting the whole game in, but I wasn't worried as it was the end of the halftime break and I figured the game got a late start. Those really paying attention will note that I don't know if "half time" is one word or two.

Around 3:30 pm the retreat had concluded business for the day, but the tape still had an hour to run. No problem. We could just let the tape run until it was done and watch the game at 4:30 pm. Unless...unless the game went into overtime. Then we risked missing the crucial last plays of the game. Yes, we could catch the 11:00 pm replay of the game, or more to the point, wake ourselves up at approximately 3:30 am to catch the last few minutes, but this seemed extreme. I might mention here that by this point it had become pretty clear that only two people at the retreat actually cared about the game, myself and the aforementioned Appleby, who later that night would go on to become my "wine stain" buddy, as we managed to slob all over ourselves.

That is one Glenn "GMo" Morris stepped up to the plate, offering to check to see if the game was indeed going to finish before the tape did. His first report to us was that there would be no problem. This was a relief. Appleby and I even briefly contemplated a trip to the beach with the intention of watching the game whenever we got back. While we schemed, Glenn reported to me that he had earlier been mistaken and there were indeed thirteen minutes left in the game. We had approximately 20 minutes of tape. Given that all football games are legally required to stop the clock every forty-five seconds to give Americans a chance to weigh their purchasing options, we knew we were in trouble.

That is when a second "man" stepped up to the proverbial plate and offered to stop the tape during the commercial breaks, so that the tape didn't run out. Wes Shirley is his name, becoming my hero is his game. Not only did he perform this vital function, he also got up and pushed the fast forward button through all the commercials for us during the game.

Now, it may have a occurred to many of you that Glenn's earlier "mistake" about the time was an indication that the game went into overtime. You are better than me. Or more sober. And less likely to underestimate Glenn's knowledge of football.

In addition to these two awesome men, who never ever once let on that the game went into overtime, let alone who won, the entire house, save me and Appleby (and maybe Katie, I can't remember), knew who won the game and they never let on in the least, even as we were punching things, cursing the fates, and then running around the house in jubilation.

These truly are brothers and sisters. I love them. Again, I will put these people up against any union in the country. Bring them on. We'll tape it.

In happier news

The Cubbies have the best record in the National League, the biggest run differential in the majors, a magic number of seven and shrinking, and they seem to have snapped a nasty early September slide. On top of that, Zambrano throws the first no-hitter for the Cubs in 36 years.

I've moved beyond cautious optimism into the "fuck yeah!" stage of baseball fandom.

Marathon Hijinks

Thought some of my friends might enjoy this from Wikipedia:

The marathon was the most bizarre event of the 1904 St. Louis Olympic Games. It was run in brutally hot weather, over dusty roads, with horses and automobiles clearing the way and creating dust clouds.

* The first to arrive was Frederick Lorz, who actually was just trotting back to the finish line to retrieve his clothes, after dropping out after nine miles. When the officials thought he had won the race, Lorz played along with his practical joke until he was found out shortly after the medal ceremony and was banned for a year by the AAU for this stunt, later winning the 1905 Boston Marathon.
* Thomas Hicks (a Briton running for the United States) was the first to cross the finish-line legally, after having received several doses of strychnine sulfate mixed with brandy from his trainers. He was supported by his trainers when he crossed the finish, but is still considered the winner. Hicks had to be carried off the track, and possibly would have died in the stadium, had he not been treated by several doctors.
* A Cuban postman named Felix Carbajal joined the marathon. He had to run in street clothes that he cut around the legs to make them look like shorts. He stopped off in an orchard en route to have a snack on some apples, which turned out to be rotten. The rotten apples caused him to have to lie down and take a nap. Despite falling ill to apples he finished in fourth place.
* The marathon included the first two black Africans to compete in the Olympics; two Tswana tribesmen named Len Tau (real name: Len Taunyane) and Yamasani (real name: Jan Mashiani). But they weren't there to compete in the Olympics, they were actually the sideshow. They had been brought over by the exposition as part of the Boer War exhibit (both were really students from Orange Free State in South Africa, but this fact was not made known to the public). Len Tau finished ninth and Yamasani came in twelfth. This was a disappointment, as many observers were sure Len Tau could have done better if he had not been chased nearly a mile off course by aggressive dogs.

USA All The Way, Indeed

A different take on NBC's Olymipic coverage. A more demented take.

A Post Wherein I Advise NBC on Its Olympic Coverage

I'm not so much concerned that I, being a West Coaster, will not be able to see Michael Phelps win his eighth gold medal live, but I would like to object to NBC thinking that 12:30 am is an acceptable time to end their coverage.

If an event happens at 12:30 am on the East Coast because it is live that makes some freakin' sense, but how 'bout cutting to the chase when you can for those of us on the West Coast? I know, I know, there are ad dollars to be considered, but I'd be just as happy to watch the semi-final heat for the women's 400 IM at 6 pm the next day. Happier even. Then you could hype the hell out of the final that night. Instead, we get the main event of the night, say women's gymnatsics, starting at 10:30 pm and ending past midnight.

I'd also like to mention that synchronized diving is no more a real sport than anything happening in the X games. We have had to watch an s-load of synchronized diving. But as long as we are watching it, why can we not get that strobe motion replay on every dive? I mean, you have a really cool, powerful tool to show the audience exactly how in sync [insert Timberlake reference here] the divers were, but you don't use it. Why?

Lastly (for now), I know the beach volleyballers of both sexes are sexy with a capital S-E-X!, and maybe we need to see the Americans dominate every single team they face in the prelims, but couldn't we slip in some badminton or something every once in a while. It's pretty freakin' hot action and it's a sport we're all familiar with. Ping pong? Anything other than volleyball (beach), swimming, diving or gymnastics? No? Okay.

Okay, really lastly, if I have to watch one more Mary Carillo "Isn't China Awesome" segment, I will puke. I'm not some wingnut who thinks that every mention of China should involve a discussion of human rights abuses and the dangers of communism, but jeebus.

With that I leave you with the Spanish men's basketball team and their publicity shot for the Games. For the record, they didn't mean to offend anybody and they meant it as an "affectionate gesture."

What Would Bela Say About It?

The Chinese forging passports so that underage gymnasts can compete? Completely believable, a huge deal, and international disgrace!

The Bush administration forged a document linking Iraq and Al Queada and made it part of the rational for the war? Not credible, not a big deal even if true, and who cares?

The Human Drama of Athletic Competition

Why was I up until 12:45 am last night watching the US men win a bronze in an event I don't even acknowledge as a legitimate sport?

Damn you Olympics! Damn you!

By "Unrestricted," We Mean "Restricted"

Part of the agreement to let China host the Olympic games was that foreign journalists be allowed to have unfettered access to the internet. I am sure you already know that China, with the co-operation of many American tech firms, blocks many websites so that its citizens cannot learn dangerous information. It seems that, despite promises to the contrary, China has gone back on their word, with the approval of the Olympic Committee.

Some International Olympic Committee officials cut a deal to let China block sensitive Web sites despite promises of unrestricted access, a senior IOC official admitted on Wednesday.

"I regret that it now appears BOCOG has announced that there will be limitations on Web site access during Games time," IOC press chief Kevan Gosper said, referring to Beijing's Olympic organizers.

"I also now understand that some IOC officials negotiated with the Chinese that some sensitive sites would be blocked on the basis they were not considered Games related," he said.

If you guessed that some of those sites that are not "Games related" are sites that detail human rights abuses in China, you'd be right. Amnesty International is blocked. As are websites related to the Falun Gong, leading to this quote from a Chinese official which I thought was hilarious:

I would remind you that Falun Gong is an evil, fake religion which has been banned by the Chinese government.

Interestingly, one of my favorite sites, Fire Joe Morgan, has also been banned in China, leading contributor Ken Tremendous to issue this statement:

We will not stop blogging until every Chinese citizen has the right to read curse-filled nonsense about Dusty Baker. And that is a kind-of promise!

While censorship is horrible, I do have to acknowledge that the blocking of FJM probably means some poor Chinese wife is being spared her husband reading her the "hilarious" snarky comments found on FJM, even though her knowledge of baseball does not really incorporate an understanding of RBI, let alone why they are such a poor predictor of future success compared to, say, OPS+, as my wife frequently is.

All that said, let's hope that NBC doesn't spoil that majesty and non-political wonder that will be the Olympic games by injecting a lot "politics" into their commentary. After all, we wouldn't want anyone thinking that China is anything but a wonderful, wonderful country that is finally taking its rightful place on the world stage, now would we.

I Thought Shark Week Started Next Sunday

Let's go Greg!

I'm Getting a Little Sick of Josh Hamilton

This man took the cream and the clear, broke several home run records, and is arguably the most hated man in baseball. Or out of baseball, as his crime was apparently so heinous that he is now unemployable in baseball, despite the fact that he had the best OBP in the majors last year. Except that he has not been found guilty of anything (yet) and no one is quite sure he broke any Major League Baseball rules when he took whatever it is that he might have took.

This man took the Mexican Brown and the Columbian White, found Jesus, and is now the most loved man in all of baseball. If one could count the number of times he was called a hero last night, then one would officially qualify as a supercomputer. In interviews he drops so many references to Jesus, you would think he drives for NASCAR and Jesus is the team sponsor. He broke several Major League Baseball rules (in addition to a few federal laws), was suspended for a time, but has been welcomed back with open arms. I imagine there are many Major League teams that would love to have him on their roster.

Now there are many reasons for the disparity in treatment between these two men. Congress has not held hearings on the national tragedy of baseball players using the hard stuff. Josh Hamilton has not broken any records of people revered by Baby Boomers. Bonds famously hates talking to the media. Hamilton never passes up the opportunity to yammer on about how awesome Jesus is. Hamilton has an adorable Southern accent, and baseball is nothing if not romantic about chaw-spitting men with Southern accents. Which brings us to the point, I guess. One major difference between evil Barry and saintly Josh is that one is black and one is white. I am sure, however, that this makes no difference whatsoever.

The Italian Problem

I have a co-worker who is rooting for the Eye-ties during the Euro 2008 Cup. She is doing so largely based on the fact that the Eye-ties are babelicious. This is fine. Attractiveness is a fine reason to root for anyone. Some, but certainly not myself, would argue that it is the only reason to watch women's tennis.

The problem comes in where she seems to be under the impression that I, too, should be rooting for the Italians. My resistance to this proposal is greeted with incredulousness. My protests that the Italians are divingest, cheatingest, most soccer desecrating people on the planet and that no one who is not Italian roots for the Italians are rejected. Apparently, I fail to grasp exactly how awesome looking these men are.

Go France Romania!

Happiness...

... is the Group C standings.

Irrational exhuberance

Yes, I do know that we're only 65 games in to a 162 game season, but my beloved Cubbies currently have the best record in baseball. I'm feeling... what's the word I'm looking for...? Hopeful? Optimistic? Are Cubs fans supposed to have these strange emotions?

You may place your bet for when, exactly, my heart gets broken in the comments.

The Euros Are Here!

And just in time, without hockey I'm going into Euro-sport withdrawal (sorry French Open, the clay courts of Roland Garros are no siren to these eyes).

I've been in something of a retro seventies vibe as of late. Nothing like putting on some aviators and talking gas crisis to make a guy pine for a little grass, sweet summer nights, mellow grooves on the radio, and maybe some cocaine later in the evening. As such, I've decided to back the Dutch this time around. I'll pretend its 1974 and Total Football will win my heart all over again. I was two last time, so winning my heart was no great feat, but still, who will ever forget the loping strides of Johan Cruyff?

I'll admit I know nothing about the modern incarnation if the Dutch squad. I do know they are in a group with the French and the I-ties, and that's enough for me to throw on my orange sweater (have I mentioned the lousy weather we are having?), hoist a cold Heinie Amstel Light (the diet's back on, baby!) and look up something Dutch to shout in encouragement of the team.

Given that Neds has a small chance of getting out of the first round, let me go ahead and pick a playoff team. In a stunner (to me), I'm going to go ahead and pick Spain. But only because half of Liverpool plays for Spain, not because I have any love of the Spaniards.

Stanley Cup Ends Tonight Wednesday

Fortunately, the Euros start Saturday.

What the hell am I going to do with my four two days off?