Seriously, in his latest “Monday Morning Quarterback” column, he has not only jumped the shark, but he has jumped it, turned the boat, ran over the shark, filleted it with his propeller, cooked it, and served it up in his own restaurant.

Two items about caused my head to explode. First, his take on Jets fans not showing up for Brett Favre’s first game in green and white:

I think I don’t want to hear what great fans the Jets have. Not for a long time. That crowd Saturday night was a disgrace. At least half the stadium was empty for Favre’s debut in a Jets’ uniform. I expressed my amazement to a few fellow scribes Saturday night — emphasizing that N.Y. traded for an all-time-great quarterback, not a broken-down one — and they gave varying reasons for the poor turnout. Like it’s the middle of vacation month for New Yorkers, and it’s a preseason game. Horsefeathers. If you really love your team, and you have season tickets, you should have been at that game unless you were in Tibet. Ridiculous.

Gee, where do we start? 1) I want to know who’s telling King that Jets have “great fans.” Isn’t there most recent claim to fame being that women show their hooters during the game on the concourses? Good fans, maybe, but who’s saying they’re great? 2) You got “varying reasons” because there are a damn good number of reasons. It’s preseason ball. Favre’s only going to play for a series. It’s vacation season. 3) Maybe Favre has damaged his reputation by this “is you is or is you ain’t” mentality of the past three years. 4) Hell, maybe everyone doesn’t like Brett Favre as much as Peter King (and John Madden.) 5) Who says, much less writes, the word “Horsefeathers?” Are you Daddy Warbucks and the stock market crashed?

What’s ridiculous is a writer who sits in the press box and blasts fans for not supporting a team.

What’s ridiculous is being unable to look beyond your own allegiance to your sports hero and poking fun at a hard-working, blue-collar fan base who is on the cusp of getting PSL’d out of their tickets when the new stadium is built.

What’s ridiculous is that he thinks this is helping the league and/or the Jets with this crap.

OK, so that wasn’t funny ha-ha (not sitcom material), but this next one is:

I hope Alicia Sacramone does not carry her fall off the balance beam the same way Bill Buckner was forced to carry the Mookie Wilson grounder between his legs in 1986. It’s not fair.

Now, there’s funny. There’s really funny. And then there’s this. Are you freakin’ kidding me? What made the Bill Buckner thing much more horrible than, say, the Scott Norwood or Jackie Smith affairs (Peter, I’m trying to use NFL references) was the Boston sports fan and his/her inability to forgive and forget.

Bill Buckner’s tragedy was not the grounder through the legs. It was all of the fury heaped on him by obsessive fans afterwards. Are you trying to say that Sacramone is in danger of that? Who is that obsessive about gymnastics???!?!?! Even gymnasts aren’t that obsessive!!!! I’m running out of ways to punctuate my screaming@!@$#%^&&*(

[Plus, grammatically speaking, that last phrase is just awful. It makes it sound like Buckner is walking around… carrying a “Mookie Wilson grounder”… between his legs… throughout the entire calendar year of 1986. As if it was an appendage. In my 10 things I think I think, I think that’s a poorly-written sentence.]

Anyhoo, keep up the good work, Mr. King. As a fellow scribe (and please, stop using that phrase), I find your writing has now become some of the funniest stuff to read every week. We lost Dave Barry’s column a few years ago, but we still have you. Not everything is this good, mind you, but there are always 2-3 nuggets that are just Seinfeld-esque in their absurdity. And that’s just genius. Fox should sign you to a development deal. Because, let’s recall what you wrote last year:

I could watch the Frank Caliendo stuff about a hundred more times. He’s funnier today than Belushi was 30 years ago. He’s even got George Bush’s facial expressions down pat. I mean, they’re perfect.

The defense rests, your honor.

Here’s the thing… I love me some Olympics.  My borderline obsession with the games dates back to a simple purchase of the 1984 Olympic Handbook at a school fair in fifth grade.  As a geek who loved history and sports, the Olympics provided just the right combo.  Every televised event came with a pre-packaged historical nugget.  It was a love affair that continues today.

[Sidenote: I still have that dog-eared Olympic guide in my library, complete with 11-year-old scrawl as I tracked every event throughout the two weeks. If you think I had problems, bear in mind I still thought girls had cooties… I lived in a town of 1500 people where the closest movie theater was about an hour drive… and this pre-dates the Internet, simulcasts and the Oxygen network carrying mostly equestrian events.]

Even back in 1984, I wished that they would show more events.  I’d see snippets of the more obscure events (at least to Americans) and wonder, “How does team handball work?”  Or, “How do the guys in water polo not drown?”

This year, thanks to the miracle of NBC’s multi-channel coverage, I know the answer to some of these questions.  I’ve watched those two sports, plus synchronized diving, table tennis, weightlifting and badminton.  And not just parts of them.  Full events in some cases.

Which leads me to my current state.  Pure exhaustion.  And it’s starting to affect other sports-related areas of my life.  I mean, I looked on espn.com today, and I see that the Rays are still 4.5 games up on the Red Sox in the AL East. Seriously?  That’s still going on?  While I’ve been watching fencing and women’s volleyball, my fantasy football draft has crept up on me.  I may go into this draft even more unprepared than the Detroit Lions.  It could get ugly.

I gotta soldier on, though.  Just six days left.  We haven’t scratched the surface of track and field yet.  The USA “Redeem Team” looks to have a lock on the men’s basketball gold, as do the women.  I haven’t seen a shred of synchronized swimming yet (that’s not a complaint… I’m a happy guy on that count).

Gotta feel the burn and keep working staring at the tube.  Because Phelps never gave up.  And neither should I.  Although I don’t think we’ll ever get my ass print out of the couch again.

Sorry to go on a rant here, but this man’s fairy tale view of politics is disconcerting. Why don’t the Taliban and Al Qaeda like us? They hate freedom. Why isn’t Iran acting nice? Freedom haters. And kids, why is Russia bombing the hell out of Georgia right now? That’s right. Allergic to freedom.

I wish I had been typing as he talked, because there’s not a transcript available for his speech. Essentially, he reminded the leaders of Russia that they should not be afraid of a democratic Georgia, because a democracy will bring prosperity and stability as neighbors.

C’mon George, we know you’re a lame duck (accent on lame), but couldn’t you talk about some of the real issues around this conflict? The oil? The Ossetian separatists? Do you think we can’t handle it? I guess when it comes to international politics, it’s easier to paint with broad strokes than it is to really work on the issues.

Sorry, but this just struck a nerve. Can you tell? I guess it’s because after Iraq, it feels really hollow for the US to tell another superpower not to invade a sovereign nation because they’re concerned about their security. At least Georgia is next door to Russia. We didn’t have that excuse.

Gotta go. I’m hoping to hear George’s take on how President Musharraf’s problems are akin to the story of Rapunzel.

This point was hammered home this summer when I caught up with all 13 episodes of AMC’s Mad Men. Sure, we’re all hearing about the Emmy nominations and the Golden Globe wins. In fact, this was a weird one. I actually saw some of the debut episode, but because it was on AMC, I thought it was some movie and just kept going. The next night, I saw it again and REALLY liked it. But, since I wasn’t all that accustomed to looking for new programming on AMC, I never got into the groove of watching it.

Flash forward to a couple of months ago. I started catching the reruns in order on AMC, and I was hooked. Extremely hooked. I guess because I’m in marketing/advertising, I appreciate it on a different level. The creative fights… the inability to see what the client wants… it’s all intriguing. Plus, it shows a very cool time in the business world, when guys were jerks, women were women and booze was a standard part of any businessman’s diet.

Here are a few other shows I missed early on because I couldn’t pull my head out of my ass until midway through the first season - or even until after the first season was over.

• 30 Rock - On paper, this should have been a no-brainer. I’m a huge Saturday Night Live fan, so a show based on Tina Fey’s experience at SNL should be crack for me. For some reason, though, I went for the Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip route that year. It was the worst TV decision I’ve ever made. Only if I was responsible for Cop Rock could I make a worse decision.
• Six Feet Under - To my credit, I gave this one several shots. And I maintain that it wasn’t all that good until the end of the first season. But, this was one of my favorites of recent memory, and I didn’t get into it until season 2.
• Scrubs - This one is in my top five favorite sitcoms ever. Never watched it the first season. It’s unbelievable. It was on Thursday nights on NBC, and I didn’t watch it. I guess it stems from my aversion to medical dramas. Who knew that I could like a medical comedy?

So now, I’m trusting my instincts. That’s why I’m coming up with a three strikes rule. I’m going to watch three complete episodes of shows in that I think I will like before giving up on them. That should come in handy this fall when dozens of new shows hit the airwaves.

Maybe that’s why every day he got out of his car with a look of sheer revulsion and dread. He shuffled into the building with his lunch in a brown paper bag every day, and god, it looked like he was on his death march. I felt so bad for him. You just know that each morning brought a new level of crap for him. It was evident in his face and his body language. The poor bastard.

Even though that auto credit company moved out of my building, I thought about that guy this morning. Because today, on my way to work, I heard some of the score from Hoosiers on XM radio (channel 27, the soundtrack channel). After playing one of the more tranquil songs from the middle of the movie (think Gene Hackman driving across Indiana on the way to Hickory High), they played Coach Dale’s pep talk before the regional finals.

Tell me this isn’t a great pep talk before going to work. “If you put your effort and concentration into playing to your potential, to be the best that you can be, I don’t care what the scoreboard says. At the end of the game, in my book, we’re gonna be winners.” Hell, watch it here.

That was followed by the music from that state finals when Jimmy Chitwood got into some other-worldly zone where he went something like 30-for-32 from the floor. Seriously, I may be the only guy who loves Hoosiers more than ESPN’s Bill Simmons. He once wrote a running diary of the entire movie that must have exceeded 10,000 words. I thought it wasn’t quite long enough.

So, anyway… back to this morning. Was I fired up? Hell to the yeah. Frankly, I was waiting for a pep rally when I arrived at work. There should have been a cheerleader in an knee-length skirt ready to go to a sock hop with me. More importantly, unlike the sad sack I saw all those mornings, I had a spring in my step. Nothing the job could throw at me was going to touch me. God bless you Norman Dale and Jimmy Chitwood.

On Monday night, we had two games at the local park. About halfway through the first game, an ice cream truck drove up into the parking lot about 100 yards away from the courts. After the obligatory Eddie Murphy jokes “THE ICE CREAM MAN IS COMING!! MA! THROW DOWN SOME MONEEEEYY!” it got pretty ugly. Because the truck didn’t move. For about an hour. It just kept playing songs. Over and over.

Now, unlike other ice cream trucks in the area, this particular vehicle bought the deluxe “ice cream truck music package.” For example, we have a vendor who cruises our neighborhood that has one song - “Turkey in the Straw.” That’s annoying, but he’s not in our neighborhood very long before he heads to the next group of young’uns.

But this truck at the volleyball court? He had about three dozen songs cycling through. And the variety? Just breathtaking:

• “Turkey in the Straw” (obviously)
• “La Cucaracha” (ok…)
• “Theme from Romeo and Juliet” (I shit you not)
• At least four Christmas songs: “Let it Snow,” “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” “Deck the Halls,” and one other that just escapes me right now.
• “Me So Horny” (Just kidding)
• “Battle Hymn of the Republic” (Wish I was kidding)

Hopefully, you’re getting an idea why the outcome of the games was secondary. After a while, it was all about survival. I never thought I could hate the ice cream man. But boy, I do now.

So, it was quite a surprise that two months after my 35th that suddenly… wham!… it hits me. And it hit me hard. Why? Well, three things happened.

1. I realized that I don’t like any of the songs on XM Radio’s channel 20, which plays the top 20 most requested songs of the day. I haven’t hit a song that I’ve really liked on that channel in about a month. Why is this significant? I’ve always been able to find some nuggets in pop music, even through the hair metal of the late 80s and the awful boy-band epidemic of the late 90s. This time, I just hate it all. Chris Brown, Daughtry, Jesse McCartney, The Jonas Brothers… there’s just nothing there.By the way, it all came to a head today when I heard Kid Rock’s ode to summer, “All Summer Long.” Check out this rhyme. “Sipping whiskey out the bottle | Not thinking ’bout tomorrow.” He rhymes “bottle” and “tomorrow.” Seriously?
2. On Monday, I played sand volleyball for the first time this season.  Several times, I jumped for a spike or a block… and my feet where always in contact with the sand.  I felt slow and sluggish, and I was sweating like James Brown on his Celebrity Hot Tub show.  It was, in a word, atrocious.  Only 12 more games to go.  Yay!
3. Then, on Tuesday, I played in my weekly basketball game, and I was ritually abused by a 17 year old and a 21 year old.  Now, both of these guys are probably better than I was at the same periods of my life.  But, it was just a total beatdown.  I probably shot 15% from the floor (that’s not false modesty… if I made 1 of 8, that would have been great).  I missed 20 footers and layups.  Midrange jumpers.  Got my pocket picked doing the most rudimentary things. Remember Ollie, the erstwhile manager forced to play in the movie Hoosiers?  It would take me about six months of intensive work to get to his level.

So, there you have it. Three great reasons that I know I’m getting old. Next, I’ll be wearing my pants at my armpits and screaming at kids to get off my lawn.  This is going to be fun, in a totally sucky way.

Beyond the golf, what made this so special was the storylines.  Not just Tiger’s knee or the way that he was grinding it out.  For those of us who knew of Rocco’s fight with back trouble (remember the 2006 Masters where his body broke down when he had the lead on the final day?) it was an even more incredible story.

And, what puts it over the top… Rocco plays like everybody’s crazy uncle on the course.  His emotions are on his sleeve, and he’s just an affable, likable guy.  Just tremendous stuff.

One thing I noticed in his post-round interview is that he has a very unique way of speaking that really sets him apart from other golfers… and definitely other athletes.  With the way he speaks with his hands and the constant mix of facial expressions, it’s like watching someone explain his answers on Match Game than someone doing a postgame interview.  Just watch him next time.  Quite a different take on the game than you’ll get from most golfers.

No wonder the Celtics started out so dazed.  They probably spent the entire first quarter going, “Is that the same guy that sang, ‘Stay with Me Tonight?’” I was thinking Moses Malone and Dr. J would be starting for the other team.

This is Hollywood, and the best we can do is a three-hit wonder from the early 80s?  There’s not a Red Hot Chili Pepper hanging around?  Disney couldn’t man up and throw one of the kids from High School Musical at this one?

Game 3’s anthem was performed by that scruffy guy from American Idol, which will only start to look silly in 10 years.  Choosing Osborne is ridiculous… now!  David Stern must answer for this.  Oh yeah, and the crooked refs thing.

But I want answers.  Now.

Update - I see that Bill Simmons from ESPN beat me to the punch on this one. As usual, he hit the pop culture nail on the head.

Jeffrey Osborne sang the national anthem. Apparently, he won a coin toss with James Ingram right before the game.

]]> http://www.sweetmonkeypie.com/2008/06/13/the-weirdest-moment-of-the-nba-finals/feed/ http://www.sweetmonkeypie.com/2008/06/12/guest-blogging-like-a-mother-bunker/ http://www.sweetmonkeypie.com/2008/06/12/guest-blogging-like-a-mother-bunker/#comments Fri, 13 Jun 2008 01:44:48 +0000 pieman Friends of SMP http://www.sweetmonkeypie.com/2008/06/12/guest-blogging-like-a-mother-bunker/ About a week ago, my girl Beth (aka, Bess or Bessums) asked if I would provide a blog entry for her site, Mother Bunker.  Beth is one of the best writers I’ve ever known, and she’s turning Mother Bunker into must-read stuff for parents everywhere.  Although her entries are normally mom-focused, she turned this week over to the dads.  I was given the assignment to provide 13 things that every dad should know.  Check it out.

Not much more to say other than that.  I’d better get back to the Lakers-Celtics game.  OK, it’s now a 23-point lead… in the second quarter.  Ugh.