I had a conversation with one of my friends recently. He's one of those baseball "Stat Geeks" who's ruining baseball for us real fans. The conversation started out by us talking about whether Ryan Theriot is a good player. Ryan is the Cub's starting SS, he was a rookie last year and he plays with heart. He is a fan favorite at Wrigley Field and is affectionately known as "The Riot." I thought that the Cubs should trade paycheck collector and power hitting lead-off hitter Alfonso Soriano, lead-off with Reed Johnson and make sure that The Riot bats second, to spray the ball around the field, bunt and hit-and-run with.
This set my stat geek friend into a fit of stat spitting. Apparently, playing with heart and being nitty-gritty is not good enough. Stat Geek started spewing out stats I've never heard of like OBS, OPS, B2M, ABC, BBD and P.F. Changs. Apparently, moving base runners, standing in against runners trying to break up the double play, and generally playing fundamentally sound baseball is for losers. My friend insisted that the Cubs would continue to be a joke until they sent Theriot and his LSU teamate Mike Fontenot to Double A ball and traded for Brian Roberts.
I don't want Brian Roberts on the Cubs (unless they trade Soriano for him). He'll be another Nomar. I despise the holier than thou attitude of most of today's baseball All-Stars. I like players who play for the love of the game and appreciate the fans and give you intangibles. (When I said the word intangibles to my friend he cracked up and giggled like a school-girl.)
I remember a day when the only stats you needed were batting average, home runs, runs batted in, and for pitchers, wins, losses, and saves. And even those stats just gave a general idea of how a player was performing, not the end-all be all of how good of a person the player is.
The ironic thing about the whole conversation is the fact that my friend is a Cardinals fan. The best player on the Cardinals in a generation only batted .262 lifetime. Ozzie Smith played with heart, was fundamentally sound and gave his team multitudes of intangibles.
How quickly we forget.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Valentine surprise
He was born Geranld R. Ford. He was not named after the Thirty Eighth president. He was ten years old when Richard Nixon resigned and Ford became the only president ever not elected. His namesake had affected him. Ford, despite being a star athlete in college, had a few well publicized “clutz” moments, and became the butt of many a comedian’s joke, most notably Chevy Chase on Saturday Night Live. Back in Kansas City, the jokes trickled down to the young boy, who by no fault of his own, shared the same name. Gerald would be made fun of and bullied, and this provided a relatively low level of self-esteem and confidence.
Today, though, the forty four year old had it all figured out. He finally had a woman in his life. Nancy Davis worked part time at the animal shelter. She was as quiet and reserved as Gerald, and he often wondered if she got picked on in school too. Someday he would build up the courage to ask her, but not today. Today was Valentine’s day and everything would be perfect. He had arranged to leave his job at Costco early. He had ran across the street to Linwood Foods, and purchased a giant, white stuffed Teddy Bear. And he had ran down to Troost to make sure he got on the number Twenty Five bus just in time.
Tonight they would dine at the Oriental Feast Chinese Buffet, and he would ask her if she wanted to go steady, but he had to be to her house before she left for work, to make sure she knew he would pick her up from work at seven o’clock. . The Bus pulls up to the Linwood St. bus stop. The number 25 emblazoned on the front. White paint in front, and grey paint in back are set apart by geometrically stunning angles of blue and green lower in front than in back giving the bus a sense of forward movement even when standing still. Stepping into the bus, the driver sits in a throne, straddling the steering wheel, almost three feet in diameter, that is situated parallel to the ground. Behind him, a plexiglass pane forms a wall from the ceiling to the front-left wheel well.
To the driver’s right, is the fare station, a free standing aluminum and plastic tower almost four feet high. On top of it are a place to swipe passes and transfers, a slot for paper money, one for coins, and a slot that distributes change cards and transfers automaticallyGerald swipes his bus pass like a credit card, while the giant white bear is secured by a head lock with his off hand. Gerald turns to his left and begins looking for a seat.
The first six seats on the bus, three on each side, face sideways from the forward motion of the bus. A sign indicates that these seats are reserved for handicapped riders. Behind these seats are 8 rows or four forward facing seats, two on either row of the center aisle. The seats have a grey plastic backing, with plastic hand-holds above each back rest. The fronts are covered by a grey cloth cushion with black, red, green and orange speckles.
Large tinted windows about 4 feet square run the entire length of either side of the bus. Above the windows is a row of florescent lightbulbs with a clear plastic cover. Above that, advertisement placards for the Kansas City Area Transportation Authority, other civic organizations, and route maps form a crown molding transitioning the vertical plane of the outside wall to the horizontal plane of the ceiling. On either side of the center aisle, brushed aluminum tubing runs parallel to the ceiling an arms length above the shoulder, allowing a hand hold for taller passengers who may have to stand. For shorter riders, canvas straps hang down from the aluminum tube.
Two thirds of the way to the back, on the left hand side, is an alcove set apart by a wall of both painted and transparent plexiglass. Here, a pair of double doors provide an extra exit point for riders. Beyond the rear door a set of 2 steps leads up to the rear area, three more rows of forward facing seats, and where the rear wheel wells cut into the interior, two more sets of three sideways seats. Along the back wall of the bus is a bench seat where up to five riders can sit.
Each row of two seats is half full. No one is sitting next to each other, but Gerald is lucky, he finds two free seats next to each other and sits down next to his big, white pal. There are many interesting characters on the bus. One man is so large he takes up two seats. . His jacket is adorned with a hunting camouflage pattern and his shoulder bag has a matching pattern, is he going hunting, in Kansas City? The man in front of him wears a bus drivers uniform. Gerald wonders if bus drivers get to ride the bus for free. Next to the giant man a strange man with a scraggly beard and a floppy Cubs had scribbles into a notebook.
An aging man with a bald head looks through the window. He turns his head at the neck and peeks across the bus through the opposite window. A man in a tan jacket hollers into his Cricket phone. “They better not give me none”
A tall middle-aged man with an afro fumbles with a Valentine’s package. A plush green bear sits in between the top of a clear plastic bag and some candy goodies inside a pink heart shaped box at the bottom. He reaches his hand into the back and struggles to get past the bear. The situation is complicated by the unlit Kool dangling in his hand. He drops the bear. After leaning down to pick it up, he opens the cardboard box and reaches the sweet treat inside. The candy does not bring a smile to his face. He stares out the window as he chews the candy with great, deliberate mastications.
Gerald’s stop is coming up. Just across Volker, on the east side of the street, are the apartments where Nancy lives. Adrenaline starts to flow as he pulls the rope to ring the bell to tell the bus driver to stop at the next designated location. The bus pulls to a stop and Gerald grabs his bear in another head lock, and inadvertently bumps a few passengers in the head with it on his way out.
Standing in the shadow of the backside of the Stowers Institute for Medical Research, Gerald looks to cross the street. 20 feet to his left, there is a crosswalk and a traffic signal, but Gerald is too exited. He is right across from Nancy’s door and he wants to get there now. He crosses halfway, but has to wait for northbound traffic. He stands on the double yellow line and waits. After this sedan. He crosses. Sprints. He bounds up the curb and up the small staircase to the front door.
He wants to surprise Nancy, so rather than buzz her, he enters the code. 5244. He’ll never forget it. It was the first time a woman had ever given him her digits. The door clicks open and he flings it out of his way, jumps up the stairs two at a time and reaches apartment 2b. He knocks. No answer. He hopes he hasn’t missed her. Knocks again, nothing. He turns the handle. The door is unlocked. Strange. The door creaks open and he enters.
The shades are pulled, the room is dark. He’s never been over during the day before, so he has no idea what she does over here. Sheepishly, he calls out her name. “Nancy?” “Nance?” He heads back into the hallway to her bedroom. Maybe she’s taking a nap. He opens her bedroom door, and his heart hits the floor. There’s Nancy all right, on top of his best friend, Bill Clinton.
Today, though, the forty four year old had it all figured out. He finally had a woman in his life. Nancy Davis worked part time at the animal shelter. She was as quiet and reserved as Gerald, and he often wondered if she got picked on in school too. Someday he would build up the courage to ask her, but not today. Today was Valentine’s day and everything would be perfect. He had arranged to leave his job at Costco early. He had ran across the street to Linwood Foods, and purchased a giant, white stuffed Teddy Bear. And he had ran down to Troost to make sure he got on the number Twenty Five bus just in time.
Tonight they would dine at the Oriental Feast Chinese Buffet, and he would ask her if she wanted to go steady, but he had to be to her house before she left for work, to make sure she knew he would pick her up from work at seven o’clock. . The Bus pulls up to the Linwood St. bus stop. The number 25 emblazoned on the front. White paint in front, and grey paint in back are set apart by geometrically stunning angles of blue and green lower in front than in back giving the bus a sense of forward movement even when standing still. Stepping into the bus, the driver sits in a throne, straddling the steering wheel, almost three feet in diameter, that is situated parallel to the ground. Behind him, a plexiglass pane forms a wall from the ceiling to the front-left wheel well.
To the driver’s right, is the fare station, a free standing aluminum and plastic tower almost four feet high. On top of it are a place to swipe passes and transfers, a slot for paper money, one for coins, and a slot that distributes change cards and transfers automaticallyGerald swipes his bus pass like a credit card, while the giant white bear is secured by a head lock with his off hand. Gerald turns to his left and begins looking for a seat.
The first six seats on the bus, three on each side, face sideways from the forward motion of the bus. A sign indicates that these seats are reserved for handicapped riders. Behind these seats are 8 rows or four forward facing seats, two on either row of the center aisle. The seats have a grey plastic backing, with plastic hand-holds above each back rest. The fronts are covered by a grey cloth cushion with black, red, green and orange speckles.
Large tinted windows about 4 feet square run the entire length of either side of the bus. Above the windows is a row of florescent lightbulbs with a clear plastic cover. Above that, advertisement placards for the Kansas City Area Transportation Authority, other civic organizations, and route maps form a crown molding transitioning the vertical plane of the outside wall to the horizontal plane of the ceiling. On either side of the center aisle, brushed aluminum tubing runs parallel to the ceiling an arms length above the shoulder, allowing a hand hold for taller passengers who may have to stand. For shorter riders, canvas straps hang down from the aluminum tube.
Two thirds of the way to the back, on the left hand side, is an alcove set apart by a wall of both painted and transparent plexiglass. Here, a pair of double doors provide an extra exit point for riders. Beyond the rear door a set of 2 steps leads up to the rear area, three more rows of forward facing seats, and where the rear wheel wells cut into the interior, two more sets of three sideways seats. Along the back wall of the bus is a bench seat where up to five riders can sit.
Each row of two seats is half full. No one is sitting next to each other, but Gerald is lucky, he finds two free seats next to each other and sits down next to his big, white pal. There are many interesting characters on the bus. One man is so large he takes up two seats. . His jacket is adorned with a hunting camouflage pattern and his shoulder bag has a matching pattern, is he going hunting, in Kansas City? The man in front of him wears a bus drivers uniform. Gerald wonders if bus drivers get to ride the bus for free. Next to the giant man a strange man with a scraggly beard and a floppy Cubs had scribbles into a notebook.
An aging man with a bald head looks through the window. He turns his head at the neck and peeks across the bus through the opposite window. A man in a tan jacket hollers into his Cricket phone. “They better not give me none”
A tall middle-aged man with an afro fumbles with a Valentine’s package. A plush green bear sits in between the top of a clear plastic bag and some candy goodies inside a pink heart shaped box at the bottom. He reaches his hand into the back and struggles to get past the bear. The situation is complicated by the unlit Kool dangling in his hand. He drops the bear. After leaning down to pick it up, he opens the cardboard box and reaches the sweet treat inside. The candy does not bring a smile to his face. He stares out the window as he chews the candy with great, deliberate mastications.
Gerald’s stop is coming up. Just across Volker, on the east side of the street, are the apartments where Nancy lives. Adrenaline starts to flow as he pulls the rope to ring the bell to tell the bus driver to stop at the next designated location. The bus pulls to a stop and Gerald grabs his bear in another head lock, and inadvertently bumps a few passengers in the head with it on his way out.
Standing in the shadow of the backside of the Stowers Institute for Medical Research, Gerald looks to cross the street. 20 feet to his left, there is a crosswalk and a traffic signal, but Gerald is too exited. He is right across from Nancy’s door and he wants to get there now. He crosses halfway, but has to wait for northbound traffic. He stands on the double yellow line and waits. After this sedan. He crosses. Sprints. He bounds up the curb and up the small staircase to the front door.
He wants to surprise Nancy, so rather than buzz her, he enters the code. 5244. He’ll never forget it. It was the first time a woman had ever given him her digits. The door clicks open and he flings it out of his way, jumps up the stairs two at a time and reaches apartment 2b. He knocks. No answer. He hopes he hasn’t missed her. Knocks again, nothing. He turns the handle. The door is unlocked. Strange. The door creaks open and he enters.
The shades are pulled, the room is dark. He’s never been over during the day before, so he has no idea what she does over here. Sheepishly, he calls out her name. “Nancy?” “Nance?” He heads back into the hallway to her bedroom. Maybe she’s taking a nap. He opens her bedroom door, and his heart hits the floor. There’s Nancy all right, on top of his best friend, Bill Clinton.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
A Guns n' Roses Story
Jeff Kay at the West Virginia Surf Report wrote about his craziest concert stories yesterday and it jogged my memory of a great story. Here is a Guns n' Roses story:
Unfortunately the following story did not happen to me. I have no way of verifying that it actually happened, but I believe. This story was told to me by my friend Bill. Bill’s background is very similar to the esteemed Mr. Jeff Kay, right down to the stories about drinking and driving on the back roads of hillbilly country. The only difference is that Bill’s back roads were in Kentucky instead of West Virginia.
The story takes place in Kentucky right about 1990. Bill was living just outside of Lexington at that time and Guns n’ Roses was coming to town. Now Bill didn’t really care too much about GnR – he was more of a classic rock and country music fan – but his brother really wanted to go to the show. By the day of the concert, though, they still didn’t have tickets. They went to the arena anyway, hoping to score some when they arrived and were surprised when the woman at the ticket booth said she could sell them seats. It turns out that because Guns n’ Roses had a reputation for trouble at concerts, the venue held back some of the seats right in front of the stage and then sold them to people that looked like they wouldn’t cause trouble. Since Bill and his brother looked like average college-aged kids and not trouble-making bikers, they got seats right in front of the stage in the third row or so.
During the concert, the floor area in front of the stage was a madhouse. Everyone was standing and screaming and pushing and fighting and generally carrying on like you would expect at a Guns n’ Roses show in 1990. Bill and his brother, being a bit more laid back, sat on the backs of their chairs so that they could see above the fray. Sometime after Guns n’ Roses had been playing for at least an hour, Axl Rose abruptly stopped in the middle of a song and started yelling. At first Bill couldn’t figure out what was going on, and then Axl pointed right at him and yelled “If you are just going to sit there, why don’t you get the fuck out so somebody that cares can have your seat?” Bill was frozen, not knowing what to do. Everything had stopped and everyone was turning and looking at the guys in the third row that were sitting on the backs of their chairs. Luckily (or not), there was a biker sitting next to Bill and his brother who responded: “I paid $100 for this ticket and I’ll sit however I want!”
Bill, who had not paid $100 for his ticket, but the face value of $25 or whatever concert tickets went for back then, was afraid that things were going to get ugly. Instead, Axl disappeared momentarily to the side of the stage and came back with a fist full of money. He handed the cash to an obscenely large member of GnR’s personal security and the crowd parted as the man led a group of bodyguards to where Bill was sitting. The bodyguard asked the biker if he’d take $100 to leave and the biker accepted. Then the bodyguard asked Bill’s brother the same thing. Bill’s brother turned to him and said “What do you think?” Bill replied “Are you fucking crazy? Take the money and let’s get out of here.”
They were escorted from the arena by a group of bodyguards and taken down a back hallway to an exit. Again Bill thought that this was where the trouble would come. When they got to the door the main bodyguard asked for the biker’s ticket. The biker said that he wanted to keep it as a souvenir. The bodyguard then grabbed the guy by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall and said “That hundred bucks is your souvenir, now gimme your ticket.” Needless to say, Bill and his brother had their tickets out and ready to give to the bodyguard before he even asked.
And that is the story of how my friend Bill was paid $100 by Axl Rose to leave a Guns n’ Roses concert.
Unfortunately the following story did not happen to me. I have no way of verifying that it actually happened, but I believe. This story was told to me by my friend Bill. Bill’s background is very similar to the esteemed Mr. Jeff Kay, right down to the stories about drinking and driving on the back roads of hillbilly country. The only difference is that Bill’s back roads were in Kentucky instead of West Virginia.
The story takes place in Kentucky right about 1990. Bill was living just outside of Lexington at that time and Guns n’ Roses was coming to town. Now Bill didn’t really care too much about GnR – he was more of a classic rock and country music fan – but his brother really wanted to go to the show. By the day of the concert, though, they still didn’t have tickets. They went to the arena anyway, hoping to score some when they arrived and were surprised when the woman at the ticket booth said she could sell them seats. It turns out that because Guns n’ Roses had a reputation for trouble at concerts, the venue held back some of the seats right in front of the stage and then sold them to people that looked like they wouldn’t cause trouble. Since Bill and his brother looked like average college-aged kids and not trouble-making bikers, they got seats right in front of the stage in the third row or so.
During the concert, the floor area in front of the stage was a madhouse. Everyone was standing and screaming and pushing and fighting and generally carrying on like you would expect at a Guns n’ Roses show in 1990. Bill and his brother, being a bit more laid back, sat on the backs of their chairs so that they could see above the fray. Sometime after Guns n’ Roses had been playing for at least an hour, Axl Rose abruptly stopped in the middle of a song and started yelling. At first Bill couldn’t figure out what was going on, and then Axl pointed right at him and yelled “If you are just going to sit there, why don’t you get the fuck out so somebody that cares can have your seat?” Bill was frozen, not knowing what to do. Everything had stopped and everyone was turning and looking at the guys in the third row that were sitting on the backs of their chairs. Luckily (or not), there was a biker sitting next to Bill and his brother who responded: “I paid $100 for this ticket and I’ll sit however I want!”
Bill, who had not paid $100 for his ticket, but the face value of $25 or whatever concert tickets went for back then, was afraid that things were going to get ugly. Instead, Axl disappeared momentarily to the side of the stage and came back with a fist full of money. He handed the cash to an obscenely large member of GnR’s personal security and the crowd parted as the man led a group of bodyguards to where Bill was sitting. The bodyguard asked the biker if he’d take $100 to leave and the biker accepted. Then the bodyguard asked Bill’s brother the same thing. Bill’s brother turned to him and said “What do you think?” Bill replied “Are you fucking crazy? Take the money and let’s get out of here.”
They were escorted from the arena by a group of bodyguards and taken down a back hallway to an exit. Again Bill thought that this was where the trouble would come. When they got to the door the main bodyguard asked for the biker’s ticket. The biker said that he wanted to keep it as a souvenir. The bodyguard then grabbed the guy by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall and said “That hundred bucks is your souvenir, now gimme your ticket.” Needless to say, Bill and his brother had their tickets out and ready to give to the bodyguard before he even asked.
And that is the story of how my friend Bill was paid $100 by Axl Rose to leave a Guns n’ Roses concert.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
I was buying U.B. Funkeys before they were cool!
I saw in today's Kansas City Star that U.B. Funkeys is the new coolest fad. "It's a collectible, It's a game!" Well let me tell you something, I've been buying U.B. Funkeys for my step kid, literally, for years now!
U.B. Funkeys is a video game that you plug into your PC via a USB port. You buy a starter kit that has a base unit with the USB connection and comes with two of the Funkeys peripherals to plug into the base. You can buy more Funkeys and each one opens up different sections of the game. It's genius that's-how-they-get-you marketing.
Last fall my step kid started begging for U.B. Funkeys when he saw the ads on TV. Both my fiancee and I were like "Phhht, no you can't have those!" "That's just an expensive way to play the same games you can play at addictinggames.com!" But, as if he hadn't heard us, he kept on begging.
Then one day, my fiancee and I found ourselves at Target and found out how cheap the U.B. Funkeys are. It is only $20.00 for the starter kit and $5.00 for each Funkey. With no monthly fee for play, this is actually quite a video game bargain.
We quickly snatched up the starter kit and some funkeys and my step kid got a neat birthday surprise. He got more funkeys for Xmas and now he has quite the selection of the little critters. Plus, he plays with them, which is more than I can say for some of the more expensive toys he has.
So as you can see, Funkeys and I go way back. I can't wait to get my (I mean, my step kid's) hands on the new Funkiki Island expansion!
U.B. Funkeys is a video game that you plug into your PC via a USB port. You buy a starter kit that has a base unit with the USB connection and comes with two of the Funkeys peripherals to plug into the base. You can buy more Funkeys and each one opens up different sections of the game. It's genius that's-how-they-get-you marketing.
Last fall my step kid started begging for U.B. Funkeys when he saw the ads on TV. Both my fiancee and I were like "Phhht, no you can't have those!" "That's just an expensive way to play the same games you can play at addictinggames.com!" But, as if he hadn't heard us, he kept on begging.
Then one day, my fiancee and I found ourselves at Target and found out how cheap the U.B. Funkeys are. It is only $20.00 for the starter kit and $5.00 for each Funkey. With no monthly fee for play, this is actually quite a video game bargain.
We quickly snatched up the starter kit and some funkeys and my step kid got a neat birthday surprise. He got more funkeys for Xmas and now he has quite the selection of the little critters. Plus, he plays with them, which is more than I can say for some of the more expensive toys he has.
So as you can see, Funkeys and I go way back. I can't wait to get my (I mean, my step kid's) hands on the new Funkiki Island expansion!
I think I love this woman
I have no idea who she is and I know I'll probably never know. I've been reading her posts for years and there are times when I feel sorry for her. There are times that I wish she would see the forest rather than all the trees. Then I think about how she would be disgusted at the use of that phrase in that place. I often wish that she would just write her life story in continuous prose rather than force me to pick up tidbits among bimonthly posts about yoga. She's clearly a genius and almost always fun to read. Ultimately I think I like our arrangement the way it is, because I am sure that if we ever became friends she would let me down like all the rest by telling how great last night's American Idol was...
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