Author Archives: rustindodd

Dec 17 2009
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A Christmas fairytale

It’s that time of year again. That time for hot cocoa, and Plaza Christmas lights, and most importantly, Christmas music.

It’s that time of year when you put your iTunes “Christmas” playlist on repeat, curl up with a good book, and reflect on another year.

We’re pretty sure everybody has their favorite Christmas song.

There are people who love listening to Mariah Carey sing about what she wants for Christmas.*

*Believe it or not, all she wants is you.

There are those who love to walk in a winter wonderland. There are those who want to have themselves a merry little Christmas. There are those who turn on Bruce and wait for Santa Clause to come to town.

*“You better watch out, you better not cry…” link to the video…

And there are those who dream of a white Christmas. Of course, all those songs are wonderful in there own way…

But every year, I always come back to one song — “Fairytale of New York” by the great Irish band, The Pogues.

That song –- in all its raw genius –- is Christmas time.

The song, of course, starts off with the famous line…

“It was Christmas eve, babe… in the drunk tank…”

So you know it’s not going to be your normal Christmas song…

But there’s more than that.

The song is about a guy remembering the Christmases he’d spent in New York city with an old flame.

And the song just makes you feel Christmas.

You can feel the wind in your face. You can feel the scarf around your neck. You can feel the Christmas ale on your tongue, and you can smell the Christmas tree in your living room.

And most of all, you can feel Christmas in the city.

“They’ve got cars big as bars
They’ve got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
It’s no place for the old
When you first took my hand
On a cold Christmas Eve
You promised me
Broadway was waiting for me.”

Maybe it’s because I’m Irish, or maybe it’s because I’ve been to Galway Bay, or maybe it’s because there’s something great about putting on a sweater and stocking cap and walking around a big city during the Christmas season.

Or maybe… You can just imagine being there, in this song. And that’s why the fairytale will always play, every December, forever.

“Sinatra was swinging,
All the drunks they were singing
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night

The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing “Galway Bay”
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas day…”

”…I could have been someone
Well so could anyone
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can’t make it all alone
I’ve built my dreams around you

…And The boys of the NYPD choir
Still singing “Galway Bay”
And the bells are ringing out
For Christmas Day”

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Dec 15 2009
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The 10 Best Christmas Movies. Ever.

The other day I was listening to sports talk radio. Now, I must say that I have a strange relationship with sports talk radio. On the one hand, I find it to be one of the lowest forms of communication known to man. And on the other hand, I sometimes find it enjoyable — I’ve even been known to set my alarm o’clock at a certain time so I can catch a few minutes of The Border Patrol on 810 WHB in Kansas City. And I even hosted my own sports talk show on KU’s college radio station, KJHK, when I was an undergrad.

Like I said, I have a strange relationship with sports talk radio. It can be brainless. Incoherent. Narcissistic. Overly sensational. Angry. And most of all, it can just be rather disgraceful what journalism.

But then I can hear Bob Costas or Dan Patrick, or my boys on The Border Patrol, Nate Bukaty and Steven St. John, and sports talk can be destination radio.

I suppose all mediums can be good and bad. But it does seems like there’s nothing worse than bad sports talk radio.

And at this point, I should probably tell you that this post is actually about The 10 Best Christmas Movies of All-Time. (As you could probably tell by the title. Trust me. It’s coming.)

How’d we get on sports talk radio? Well, because the post started there, and then I got on a roll and started feeling it.

Let’s get back on track. So I’m listening to sports talk radio the other day. I think it was Mike and Mike in the Morning on ESPN.com. In fact, I know it was Mike and Mike. So there having an odd discussion about Christmas movies. I think I missed the beginning of it. Anyway, they were debating whether the movie, Die Hard, should be considered a Christmas movie.

We’ll get to Die Hard in a minute. And then maybe this will all make sense. But let’s just assume most people have seen Die Hard. I mean, c’mon, who hasn’t?

Well, let’s just say I was utterly blown away (no pun intended). Die Hard is a Christmas movie. This is not even a debate. Yes. It’s an action movie – and an iconic one — but that doesn’t preclude it from also being a Christmas movie.

I suppose it’s a little bit like arguing that Jerry McGuire isn’t sports movie. You know, somebody might say, “Oh, that’s not a sports movie, that’s a romantic comedy/drama posing as sports movie.”

And I suppose that could be the came. But how come it can’t be both.

Die Hard is an action movie that takes place during a holiday party in LA. Its soundtrack features multiple Christmas songs – including Run DMC’s classic tune, “Christmas in Hollis.” So yes, Die Hard is a Christmas movie.

And it was at this moment that I began to think about other Christmas movies. For example: If you made a Top 10 list of the best Christmas movies, which ones would be on it? What would be your starting five? And if you really break it down, what is the greatest Christmas movie of all-time?

In the end, lists are kind of a funny thing. We enjoy ranking things. Even things that are obviously subjective. And I’m not exactly sure why.

But really, the whole purpose is to spur a little thought and discussion. And in this case, to remember the ghosts of Christmas cinema past.

So here goes…

First, we’re starting with two sentimental honorable mentions.

1. To Grandmother’s House We Go
Released: Dec. 6, 1992

Anybody else remember this one? This was a made-for-TV movie that starred the (very young) Olsen Twins. In fact, I’m pretty sure this was their first movie following their “Full House” days. So this gets a mention for a couple of reasons.

1. You could make the argument that this movie kicked off the Olsen Twins mania that would dominate pre-teen pop culture in the late 90s.*

*If you were really trying, I bet you make a case that the Olsen Twins were the real-world precursor to the unstoppable force that is Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus. Miley’s career is really starting to parallel the Olsens’. Childhood star. Crossover into mainstream fame. And then a major breakdown flanked by eating disorders, rehab and sketchy older boyfiends. OK, so none of that’s happened to Miley, yet. (We hope.) And we’re praying for you Miley. You can make it!

2. The movie was essentially about a set of twins that felt unloved at home, so they ran off and tried to find their way to their grandmother’s house for Christmas. At least, that’s how I remember it. Anyway the Olsen Twins get kidnapped by some old criminals (including one of the co-stars from the TV show “Coach.”) and (minimal) hilarity ensues. But the classic moment comes at the end when the Olsen Twins are trying to convince a police officer to do a good deed on Christmas Eve, and the Olsen Twins convince him by chanting, “Christmas Eve, Christmas Eve…”
How about this… just watch the chant at 1:45 of this video. (Then check out a cameo from Rebecca Donaldson and Danny Tanner at the end.)

2. A Very Brady Christmas
Released: 1998

This is another classic made-for-TV Christmas movie. All the Bradys get together for a good ol’ fashioned Brady family Christmas.

The highlights?

Bobby is in his 20s and wants to be racecar driver. There’re plenty of awkward moments between Mrs. Brady (Florence Henderson) and Greg Brady (Barry Williams). And at the end, Mike Brady gets stuck in a building collapse. But don’t worry. He’s able to free himself when the Bradys start singing “Oh Come All Ye Faithful.”

Seriously, You can’t make this stuff up.

The only lowlight? The actress that played Cindy Brady didn’t want to take part, so they had to find a replacement.

OK, on to the Top 10.

10. Home Alone 2: Lost in New York
Released: Nov. 20, 1992
Director: Chris Columbus
Writer: John Hughes
So, yea, this should probably be higher. But we’re sticking it at No. 10 for a few reasons. And you’ll see one of those in a minute. But this is still one of the highest-grossing films of the 90’s. It also features one of Rob Schneider’s original on-screen roles… Just a great movie.

…And it’s filled with classic lines.

“My family’s in Florida, and I’m in New York?

“Do you guys mind if I work on my cannonballs?”

“You know Herbert Hoover once stayed on this floor?”
“The vaccum guy?”

And then there’s the best one — the memorable scene in the hotel when MaCauley Culkin uses the Talkback to order the Plaza hotel room…

“(In slow-motion) Howdy-do. This is Peter McCallister, the father. I’d like a hotel room, please, with an extra large bed, a TV, and one of those little refrigerators you have to open with a key… credit card? You got it.”

Add in the feel-good scenes with the homeless bird lady in the park, and it’s definitely in our top 10.

9. Scrooged
Released: Nov. 23, 1988
Director: Richard Donner
Writers: Mitch Glazer and Michael O’Donoghue

Anytime you have Bill Murray starring in a modern remake of “A Christmas Carol,” — well, you know it’s going to be good.

8. The Nightmare Before Christmas
Released: Oct. 29, 1993
Director: Henry Selick
Writer: Tim Burton

This is just a solid movie. But there are two things that really propel it to the eighth spot on the list.
1.) It has groundbreaking animation, and… 2.) It has an award-winning soundtrack and score written by Danny Elfman.

And the highlight of the soundtrack is Elfman’s catchy tune, “’What’s This?”

Listen to it once… and you’ll be hooked.

7. Die Hard
Released: July 15, 1988
Director: John McTiernan

We talked about. And we could write for days about this movie. It’s that groundbreaking, that important… and that much fun to watch.

“Now I have a machine gun, ho… ho… ho.”

Think about this…

How many movies in the past 20 years revolved around a seemingly normal guy single-handedly foiling a large group of terrorists, soldiers, bad guys, etc?

Really, think about it — Speed, Under Siege, Passenger 57, Sudden Death, The Rock. And so on.

And if you need more proof that it’s a Christmas movie, just watch the ending credits.

6. Miracle on 34th Street (Original)
Released: May 2, 1947
Director: George Seaton

Miracle on 34th Street (Remake)
Released: Nov. 18, 1994
Director: Les Mayfield

Let’s just say this: If we all watched the endings of both “34th Street” movies on a continuous loop, I’m pretty sure the world would be a better place. Here’s the trailer.

5. White Christmas
Released: October 14, 1954
Director: Michael Curtiz
Writers: Norman Krasna and Norman Panama

Now we’re getting to the classics.

And let’s break it down. Here’s what you have with White Christmas.

You have two legendary entertainers — Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye — at the top of their games.

You have a classic musical number after classic musical number.

Simply put, you have a slice of 1950s Americana, a portrait of when the world was a simpler place – or at least, it seemed that way.

(To be honest, this is a little bit of a sentimental choice. My family used to watch this movie together every December around the holidays. Here’s guessing my family has your family beat in the cheesy/lame family category.)

And in the end, you have the song…

4. A Christmas Story
Released: Nov. 18, 1983
Director: Bob Clark
Writer: Jean Shepherd

It kills me. That this is four. It just kills me. But what are you gonna do?

Here’s the funny thing: This movie didn’t have a lot of success in the theaters. In fact, it got a lot of negative reviews.

According to some critics, it had something to do with the movie being directed by the same guy that directed Porky’s*.

*Man, what a career that guy had.

But finally, by the mid-1990s, the movie was a staple on the cable movie channels during the Holidays. And in 1997, TNT started airing “24 hours of A Christmas Story” on Christmas Eve. By 2004, the marathon had moved to TBS and we’d never look at Ralphie the same again.

Here’s another funny thing: I’ve probably seen every part of this movie over a dozen times. But I think I’ve only sat down and watched the movie straight through once or twice.

Sorry Ralphie.

But there really are so many wonderful scenes.

When the Dad gets the leg-lamp in the mail… “It’s a major award.”

When Ralphie finally gets the B.B. gun, “You’ll shot your eye out.”

Any scene with Scut Farkus.

When they go to the Chinese restaurant… “Fararara ra ra ra ra”

But for some reason, the flagpole scene has always been my absolute favorite. Raphie’s friend, Flick, of course, gets his tongue stuck to the flagpole at recess. But my favorite part comes when the kids go back inside, and Ralphie’s teacher asks where Flick went.

The narrator’s voice slays me every time.

Ralphie: (in Narrator’s voice) Flick? Flick who?

3. Love Actually
Released: Nov. 14, 2003
Director: Richard Curtis
Writer: Richard Curtis

OK, here’s the question. This is the most recent movie on the list. So what will think about it in 25 years? Will we still consider it a classic Christmas movie. I say, yes.

And not only is it one of the best Christmas movies ever, I’m saying this is one of the best 10 movies of the 2000’s. It’s that good.

(Or maybe I just love British accents.)

Anyway. The ensemble cast is perfect. The interweaving plot lines are perfect. And Kiera Knightley is perfect.

And this scene (yes, you know the one) is perfect.

2. Home Alone
Released: Nov. 16, 1990
Director: Chris Columbus
Writer: John Hughes

…And this was the reason we were a little hard on Home Alone 2.

Here’s the thing about Home Alone… Give me a more memorable and iconic movie for people between the ages of 20 and 30. You can’t.

Really. This is the one.

For our generation, it’s The Lion King, Toy Story and Home Alone. Those are the three. And if you’re a boy, you probably throw The Sandlot in there, too.

Say the following word to anyone under 30… “Buzz’s girlfriend, woof.” … and they’ll know exactly what you’re talking about.

Of course, this is my all-time favorite scene.

On the plus side, this movie gave us MaCauley Culkin. And in turn, that gave up Culkin’s peformance in Michael Jackson’s “Black and White” video. Thank you, MJ.

1. Christmas Vacation
Released: Dec. 1, 1989
Director: Jeremiah S. Chechik
Writer: John Hughes

This. One. Has. It. All.

Comedy. Heart. Family. And the greatest Christmas rant ever.

And how about John Hughes? We’ll miss you, John.

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Dec 09 2009
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Jersey bores in Kansas City

There are very few certainties in this world.

And I suppose if you’re a relativist, you’d say there are no certainties. But that’s a conversation for – well, probably never.

Point is, when you find something that is certainly true — something that is absolutely concrete — you have to hold on tight.

For example…

You don’t have to be Dave Grohl* to know that Arcade Fire write beautiful songs. You don’t have to be Ollie Gates to know that ribs are good. And you don’t have to be Hemingway to know good prose.

*I once heard a story that Dave Grohl, the brilliant frontman for the Foo Fighters and former drummer for Nirvana, started each morning by listening to Arcade Fire’s song, “Keep the Car Running.” I don’t know for sure if this story is true. But it’s a great story, so I’m going to go ahead and believe it.

In the same way, you don’t have to be an athletic scholar to know that the state of professional sports in Kansas City is a depressing mix of suck-titude and despair.

The Royals haven’t won a World Series in 24 years. The Chiefs haven’t won a Super Bowl since Nixon was in the Oval office.

The Royals have had one full winning season in the last two decades. The Chiefs haven’t won a playoff game since 1993.

This evidence is, of course, true.

But I started thinking about it more this past weekend, when I saw a young kid wearing a Zack Greinke jersey.

The kid couldn’t have been more than 10-years-old. Though, I have to admit I’ve become pretty awful with ages.

The kid in the Greinke jersey stirred up a few emotions.

First I thought… well, good. Greinke’s getting a little love for his Cy Young season.

And then I thought about the nature of sports jerseys in general. After all, Christmas is coming up, and when you’re 10-years-old, there aren’t many better gifts than an authentic professional sports jersey.

I can still remember the feeling of receiving a Tamarick Vanover jersey from Santa in 1996. You know, it was never over until it was Vanover. That jersey was about a XXXXXL, and it probably still wouldn’t fit me today.*

*Somebody really needs to go back in time to the mid-90s and tell all the grade school boys that it’s really not that fashionable to wear your T-shirts seven sizes too big. 

The Vanover jersey was cool because it was different. Other kids at school had Derrick Thomas jerseys. Some had Steve Bono’s. One kid had a Lake Dawson jersey. Kudos to that kid, too.

Yes, there was something special about that Vanover jersey. Even if he did end up serving time in prison for financing a drug trafficking ring with fellow Chief Bam Morris. It was the only Chiefs jersey I ever had. And it’ll probably be the last one, too. 

*****

So here’s the essential question. If you’re the parent of a 10-year-old kid in Kansas City, what jersey do you buy your kid for Christmas or Hanukkah* or Festivus**.

*Have a happy, happy, happy, happy, Hanukkah!

**And a Festivus for the rest of us…

We all can agree that, right now, Greinke is the obvious choice. Cy Young. Best pitcher in baseball. Quirky, but…by all accounts a great kid. And so on.

But let’s forget about Greinke for a second. And for that matter, let’s also forget that – if things don’t go well  for the Royals – Greinke could very well be pitching in the World Series for the Red Sox or Dodgers or Rays in 2014 (or – gasp! – even sooner.)

So who else?*

*And for our purposes, let’s forget about college sports for the moment. The easy answer is to go out and buy your kid a Kansas, K-State or Mizzou jersey. But we’re talking professional sports here.

Matt Cassell?

This would be another obvious choice. He’s got the New England-pedigree. The leading-man looks. He’s also got the $60 million contract, so you’d think he be staying around for a while.

But then again. He’s also has a 72.3 passer rating and he’s quarterbacking a 3-9 football team. I still have confidence in Cassell – at least, confidence that if he can’t be Brady, he can at least be Pennington.

But I’m not so sure I’d want to invest in a Cassell jersey. Especially with Todd Haley around. Ask all those Cardinals fans if they’re happy that they bought Matt Leinart jerseys.

There are a few obvious candidates.

You might mention Billy Butler. And this would be OK. He did have a breakout season, 51 doubles, 21 homers, the .301 batting average.  And he’s got the down-home country persona – a definite plus. 

You might mention Joakim Soria. And he’s a definitely sleeper candidate. He’s one of the five best closers in baseball and he’s dependable – in addition to being arguably the nicest professional athlete in town.

But then again, both of those guys play for the Royals. And who knows if Soria will get traded or Butler will plateau. Butler will probably be around for a few more years at least, and then who knows?

The point is… there is a increasing shortage of popular and marketable athletes in Kansas City.

And why is that? Because there is also an increasing shortage of talented athletes in Kansas City.

*****

I would imagine that the kid in the Greinke jersey is just finding this out.

That kid is only 10. And I’m sure he’s still operating under the assumption that the Royals actually have a chance to win the World Series next season. And that the Chiefs will have a puncher’s chance in the AFC West if they draft Eric Berry or Dez Bryant.

Poor kid.

So, yes, it’s been pretty lousy in Kansas City for a lot of years.

And if you’re under the age of 25, you only know heartbreak and pain.

You know the pain of Lin Elliot in 1995. You know the pain of the 1994 baseball strike killing crippling the Royals’ future. You know the pain of a home playoff loss to John Elway and the Broncos in 1997. You know the pain of watching Carlos Beltran leave Kansas City. You know the pain of the Royals folding down the stretch in 2003. The pain doesn’t end there, but you get the idea…

*****

But here’s the truth. Yes, it hurts to be a 20-year-old or 25-year-old sports fan in Kansas City. But imagine if you were 10? 

Seriously. How much would that suck? At the very most, you probably only consciously remember the last five or six years of Kansas City sports. And your only sports memories come from this period.

Think about it. If you’re 10, you don’t know Derrick Thomas. You don’t know Neil Smith. You barely know Priest Holmes. You don’t remember Johnny Damon in Kansas City, or even Carlos Beltran. You might remember Mike Sweeney – but you just remember that he was the religious guy with the bad back.

Here’s what you do know.

You know the Royals have lost 100 games three times since 2004 – and they’ve lost 90 games in five of the last six years. You know the Chiefs are 9-35 in their last three seasons – and at one point had lost 28 of 30 games.

You know the Royals once had an outfielder who scaled the outfield wall to try to rob a homer when the ball hit on the warning track. You know the Royals once lost a game because the shortstop lost the ball in the Sun because his Sunglasses order hadn’t arrived yet.* And you know the Royals once lost a game because their first baseman got hit in the face with relay throw.

*He supposedly wore Sunglasses on the flight home to cover his black eye.

You know the Chiefs once decided that Brodie Croyle would be their quarterback of the future. You know the Chiefs once started a guy named Tyler Thigpen – a guy who got cut from the Vikings in 2006 because the Vikes knew they couldn’t do without Tarvaris Jackson, Drew Henson or Brooks Bollinger. Yes. Those were the three quarterbacks that the Vikings kept. And you only know Larry Johnson because he’s the reason your mom won’t let you log onto Twitter anymore.

And still. I think of the kid in the Greinke jersey. Poor kid.

He probably won’t be getting any more jerseys this December. That’s OK. He’s already got the only one that matters.

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Dec 07 2009
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One confused cat…

This thought came to me slowly.
It came to me as I was reading another take on Tiger Wood. Another attempt at making sense of the whole situation. More words devoted to analyzing Woods thoughts and motives and psyche.
 
More noise. Lots and lots of noise.
 
And for a second, it was all too much.
 
The greatest athlete in the world is mired in one the most bizarre stories of the decade.*
 
*OK, so this decade is over. Now what do we call it? The aughts? The 2000s? The aughties? More on this later.
 
And this story has everything. And, of course, we don’t know what is true. We don’t know what to believe. There are things that are plausible. And there are things we want to believe. And there are things that are hard to believe.
 
And then, there’s this: This whole Tiger story could be the biggest sports story in the world right now. At the very least, it’s the most fascinating. And it’s definitely the most bizarre.
 
And the one place that seems to be grabbing every morsel of information… the one place that seems to be breaking every new scoop is … wait for it … TMZ.com.
 
TMZ? You know what’s funny. Until about two days ago – when I was researching information about this Tiger story for work – I had know idea what TMZ stood for.
 
Funny, I always just figured the “M” stood for media. You know. It was a gossip site. It had lots of funny pictures of celebrities doing weird stuff. It was kind of like Deadspin.com for girls. So “M” must stand for media, right? No. It actually stands for Thirty-Mile Zone, a nickname for the area around the Hollywood studios. Ain’t life great?
 
The story is nearly two weeks old now. It seems like every few minutes, we hear about another woman – another mistress – who claims to have been with Tiger for two months or 21 months or three years.
 
This will probably continue until TMZ and E! and all the other gossip-hounds call off the dogs.
 
Like Andy Dufresne in Shawshank, they are swimming through a river of (stuff). But this river is flooding and even Tiger can’t fix the levees.
 
But you know what? From the beginning, I didn’t care much about the (stuff).
 
Yes, it was scandalous. And yes, the details of Tiger’s car accident were more than bizarre. And yes, people are drawn to affairs.
 
We want to know why people cheat. Why would this guy cheat? And yes, we probably all had these thoughts.
 
But for the majority of people, I don’t think this Tiger story was about the river of (stuff).
 
For most, this story has been about Tiger.
 
And perhaps you can’t separate the two — the (stuff) and the man — but that doesn’t mean we aren’t trying.
 
And I think that’s been the story the whole time.
 
How would he handle this? What would he do next? Where will this story go?
 
And for me, it all comes back to one thought…

The Machine is mauling Tiger Woods.
 
The Machine… is winning.
 
*****
 
This is the thought that has been marinating somewhere in the back of mind for the past week.
 
We all know the basic story of Tiger Woods.
 
We know he was child prodigy and he became an amateur champ and he went to Stanford. He turned pro and he won the Masters in ’97 and he became an international icon – and advertiser.*

 *(I am Tiger Woods.)
 
But of course, we didn’t know much more about the guy.
 
And that was fine. Because he won four majors in a row. And he won the U.S. on a broken leg.
 
He was a the Terminator with a 5-wood, a golfing savant who could dance out of trouble on the golf course with the flick of the wrist. 
 
And this was all we needed. Yes, he was a golfing cyborg. But maybe he had to be, we thought. After all, who has a better chance against the Machine than another machine?
 
*****
 
 And we are, back to the Machine. 
 
And when I think of the Machine, I think of Earl Woods.
 
Most people seem to know the basics of Earl Woods.
 
They know he was Tiger’s father, and that he raised and molded the greatest golfer of all-time.
 
Most seem to recall that he served as a green beret in Vietnam.
And they remember that Earl gave his son the name. Tiger.
The name, of course, was the nickname of one of Earl’s army buddies — a colonel in the Vietnamese army named Vuong Dang Phong.
 
But most people – even people from the Kansas – seem to forget that Earl Woods was a Kansan.
 
They forget that he was raised in Manhattan in the late 30s and early 40s. They forget that he was the first black baseball player at Kansas State, the first black player in the history of the Big Eight.
 
They forget that Earl Woods is buried in Manhattan. His childhood home… and the place where he learned the brutal truth about discrimination.
 
But years after Earl Woods suffered the racial abuse. Years after he was barred from staying in hotels in small Midwestern college town. Years after all that, Earl Woods would give birth to a son. And he would teach his son the game of golf.
 
And 20 years later, in 1996, Tiger Woods was on the verge of conquering the world.
 
He was the greatest talent the game of golf had ever seen. And now that the world was getting to know Tiger Woods, Earl wanted the world to know this:
 
Tiger wasn’t just a golfer. He was going to change the world.
 
*****
 
And he we are, back to the machine…
 
So, yes, we’ve been thinking about Tiger and the women and Earl.

But this thought keeps weaving its way back to the words of Gary Smith.
 
Smith, of course, is the brilliant senior writer at Sports Illustrated. In most circles, he is the best sportswriter in the country. And he may well be the greatest non-fiction writer of any kind.
 
Well, in 1996, Smith crafted a complete manifesto on Tiger’s battle against the Machine.
 
Smith, like everyone else, wondered this:

Could Tiger come through? Could he meet expectations? Could he maneuver through the media, overcome fame’s temptations, and grind against the spoils of money and power? Could he dodge the grenades that are heaved at our most revered celebrities?
 
Could he live up to Earl’s vision?
 
Here is an excerpt from the story:
 
It was ordinary. It was oh so ordinary. It was a salad, a dinner roll, a steak, a half potato, a slice of cake, a clinking fork, a podium joke, a ballroom full of white-linen-tablecloth conversation. Then a thick man with tufts of white hair rose from the head table. His voice trembled and his eyes teared and his throat gulped down sobs between words, and everything ordinary was cast out of the room.
 
“Please forgive me…but sometimes I get very emotional…when I talk about my son…. My heart…fills with so…much…joy…when I realize…that this young man…is going to be able…to help so many people…. He will transcend this game…and bring to the world…a humanitarianism…which has never been known before. The world will be a better place to live in…by virtue of his existence…and his presence…. I acknowledge only a small part in that…in that I know that I was personally selected by God himself…to nurture this young man…and bring him to the point where he can make his contribution to humanity…. This is my treasure….
 
Mr. Woods? Do you mean more than Joe Louis and Jackie Robinson, more than Muhammad Ali and Arthur Ashe?
 
“More than any of them because he’s more charismatic, more educated, more prepared for this than anyone.”
 
Anyone, Mr. Woods? Your son will have more impact than Nelson Mandela, more than Gandhi, more than Buddha?
“Yes, because he has a larger forum than any of them. Because he’s playing a sport that’s international. Because he’s qualified through his ethnicity to accomplish miracles. He’s the bridge between the East and the West. There is no limit because he has the guidance. I don’t know yet exactly what form this will take. But he is the Chosen One. He’ll have the power to impact nations. Not people. Nations. The world is just getting a taste of his power.”
 

*****

And here we are, back to the machine.
 
The thought has been stewing in mind for days. Dancing somewhere in the back, then coming to the front whenever another woman came forward with another story — another steamy allegation.
 
And then I opened Sports Illustrated.
No doubt, Smith had been paying attention to the story, to the details, to the battle that Tiger was losing.
 
Smith wanted to weigh in – he had to weigh in.
 
And so he wrote this:
 
“…For 13 years Tiger beat the machine. Sort of. He kept it backpedaling, never giving it much to grasp and grind. But to do that he had to hide in front of the world’s eyes, seal himself in a bubble. His humanitarianism manifested in efforts to help children and fund a cutting-edge academic complex in California, and his domination of a pale-faced sport opened millions of eyes. But world-altering? Unless Tiger figured out how to change humanity without showing his own, Gandhi and Mandela were safe.
 
“…Perhaps there was a price to be paid for sealing himself in that bubble, dark energies that built up and had to find release. Tiger’s response thus far has been to reseal and retreat even further, but the machine, at last, is rallying, its molars multiplying with every mouse click.
 
****
 
And he we are, back to the Machine.
 
And we don’t know what’s coming next for Tiger. We can’t know.
 
We hear so many things and so many stories. And how can we know what is true, and what is false, and what is located in that fuzzy gray area in between.
 
Tiger will hit more golf balls. He will win more majors. He will still be the greatest golfer of all-time.
 
And perhaps that is enough.
 
But here it comes again. Here comes the Machine.
The one obstacle he couldn’t climb… the one opponent he couldn’t outlast… the one rival he couldn’t conquer.
 
And from the looks of it, the man never had a chance.

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Nov 18 2009
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The Book of Zack

“Not really. I’ve been playing this World of Warcraft game. I haven’t been thinking about baseball that much.”  — Zack Greinke, on whether he’d thought about the Cy Young since the end of the regular season.

These words are all you need to know about Zack Greinke. See these words above? Read them. Let them soak in.

 …And then think about this.

 Zack Greinke was completely serious. If you know Zack Greinke, if you’ve listened to Zack Greinke, if you’ve talked to Zack Greinke… You know this to be true.

 You see, Zack Greinke said these words with no trace of clever humor or irony or wit.

 Zack Greinke said these words in the same deliberate speech pattern with which he delivers all his words.

 It was around 2:45 on Tuesday afternoon. Hours earlier, Zack Greinke had just learned he’d won American League Cy Young Award. He’d just become the third Royals pitcher in history to win the award. And now he was on a conference call with reporters. He was only months away from completing the greatest professional season of his life. He was only months away from finishing what was – and is — arguably one of the Top 15 pitching seasons of all-time. And Zack Greinke will get married this Saturday.

 So Zack, have you though much about the Cy Young award since the end of the season?

 And here they come; those words are coming…

 “Not really. I’ve been playing this World of Warcraft game. I haven’t been thinking about baseball that much.”

*****

There is an image of David Ortiz. It’s burned somewhere deep in the brain.

It won’t go away. And hopefully, it never will.

There is David Ortiz. He is sitting at his locker in the visitors clubhouse at Kauffman Stadium. It’s September and the Red Sox are in a Pennant Race, a desperate attempt to catch the Yankees.

And on this night, the Red Sox have fallen to the lowly Kansas City Royals — a team that will lose 97 games.

Except on this night, the Royals weren’t  lowly or depressing miserable.

You see, on this night, the Royals were pitching the best pitcher in baseball.

There is David Ortiz. His facial hair is perfectly groomed. His hair is almost shining. And he’s wearing a gray undershirt — you know, the kind with the offensive name.

Reporters start to crowd around. And they all have questions.

How good was Greinke?

Is he the best pitcher you’ve seen this year?

What was he throwing tonight?

But really, there is only one question that matters.

And there is David Ortiz, leaning back in his chair and giving his typical round smile.

The question is a simple one, and Ortiz has a simple answer.

Should Zack Greinke be the American League Cy Young Award winner?

“Why not?” Ortiz said.

Greinke had just allowed two hits over his six innings of work. He had lowered his Major League-leading ERA to 2.08. He had struck out five more batters, giving him 229 for the season. 

“Why not?” Ortiz said, repeating himself. “He got good numbers for it. If I could vote for the Cy Young Award winner, [I] might give one vote to him.”

*****
There doesn’t seem to be much else to say about Zack Greinke these days.

 His story has been told.

 He was once the best pitching prospect in all of baseball. He would make his major league debut and be named Royals pitcher of the year in 2004. In 2006, He would battle social anxiety issues and depression and walk away from the game.

And you know the ending — or at least, the ending of that part of the Greinke story.

 So if you’d like a true Greinke education, this may not be the place.

 There are far better places.

 If you’re looking for a Ph.D in all things Zack, go here.

Professor Posnanski is one of the foremost Greinke scholars in the country.

Short on time? Well, The KC Star’s Sam Mellinger is offering a Masters’ degree here.

So, consider this more of a Greinke undergraduate degree.

You may learn something. But you may not. And it could potentially end up being a huge  waste of time. And at the end, you may end up feeling hungover and confused.

*****

There are so many stories about  Greinke.

We’ll start with this:

You see, my image of Greinke might be slightly different than yours. 

And when I say image, I don’t mean what I think of him or you think of him, or his reputation, or how he acts.

I mean my literal image — the image I see in my head when I think of Zack Greinke.

 Thing is, I spent the 2009 baseball season covering the Royals for MLB.com. I saw Greinke pitch at least 15 times. I saw him throw shutouts and I saw him strikc out 15 hitters and I saw him get thrown out of a game for protecting a rookie teammate.

But this image is different.

My image is of Greinke walking into the Royals clubhouse on Sunday mornings.

 He was always wearing the same pair of worn, grey New Balance shoes. He was always wearing long white socks, pushed down by his ankles. He was always wearing khaki shorts and a wrinkled polo. And he was always carrying a cup of Starbucks coffee.

He looked so unassuming — exactly like a laid-back college kid on a Sunday morning.

 And then, if it was his day to pitch, he’d go out and dominate. Throw 96 miles per hour with a buckling slider and an above-average curveball. And he’d walk off the mound, and you never forget his walk. His strut. Zack Greinke – the most laid-back, quiet, unassuming star in baseball – always seems to strut when he walks off the field.

*****

Here’s another story.

Greinke once received a blue and yellow Ron Jon surfboard in the mail from a fan. At least, I think it came through the mail*. The surfboard sat up against the wall by Greinke’s locker for the next two or three weeks.

 *Is is possible to send a surfboard through the mail?

 “So, Zack,” a reporter asked. “You surf?”

Zack: No.

Reporter: So, what’s with the board.

Zack: (Paraphrasing) Somebody sent it to me. And we started winning, so I thought I’d keep it.

Reporter: Really, cool.

Zack:  …

*****

You probably know that Zack Greinke doesn’t really like to talk to reporters.

This is not unusual. Most Major-League players aren’t wild about talking to the media.

And I’m sure there are various reasons for this.

 But Greinke is different. You see, it’s not that Greinke is worried about negative stories, or being misquoted or misunderstood.

 Greinke just doesn’t really like talking to anybody.

 And so, I often found myself in the visitors clubhouse after Greinke pitched. Sometimes, I would be covering the opposing team, and I would need to go to the visitors’ side.

And other times, I would go there to find out what the Angels or Red Sox or Twins or Tigers thought about Greinke.

 You know what? There seemed to running theme.

 “Flat-out nasty,”  — Minnesotat’s Joe Mauer.

 “He invents stuff. I’ve never seen a 95-mph cutter before.” — Detroit’s Brandon Inge.

 “It really was a clinic today. He was almost unhittable to me.” — Seattle manager Don Wakamatsu

 “He has everything,” — Boston manager Terry Francona

 “That’s about as good as I’ve seen any pitcher in my time here at this level.” — Cleveland manager Eric Wedge

“Kid’s got a lot of equipment,” Detroit manager Jim Leyland.

 “…the best pitcher in baseball.” — Texas manager Ron Washington

 “He’s the best in the league right now,” — White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen

 *****

Reporter: (interviewing Zack after he won the Cy Young) Hey, I know you’re not big into all this media stuff. You dealing with it OK?

Zack: Yea… Lotta stuff going on. I usually like doing nothing.

Reporter: So you excited for your wedding this weekend?

Zack: (Explains that his fiancé has been doing most of the wedding preparations) I just got to show up I guess. Hopefully it’ll be fun.

*****

You see, I guess all this isn’t really about Zack Greinke. It’s really more about what he represents. This is about what he represents to Kansas City. And this is about what he represents to a certain generation of Kansas City’s sports fans.

Zack Greinke is 26-years-old. And this is fitting.

The last 24 years have been tough on sports fans in Kansas City.

If you are under the age of 26, you never saw Len Dawson lead last-minute drives. You never saw George Brett in his prime, raking doubles into the gaps of then-Royals Stadium.

You never Frank White or Willy Wilson or Amos Otis. You never saw Bobby Bell or Buck Buchanan or Willie Lanier. You never even saw Bo Jackson with a real hip.

You have no memory of the last time the Royals won the World Series. And if you are exactly 25, you were nine the last time Chiefs won a playoff game.

 There is a generation which knows nothing about winning.

But we do know what its like to watch the Chiefs go 13-3 and then lose a playoff game at home.

 They’ve done that three times.

 We know what its like to watch the Royals develop young stars — and then watch as those stars bolt town.

 *It’s especially infuriating when one of those stars (Jermaine Dye – a future World Series MVP) gets traded for Neifi Perez – straight up. Seriously. It happened.

 We know what its like to watch the greatest pass catching tight end ever.

 But we also know what its like to watch the Chiefs lose 26 out of 28.

 But really, the real pain has come from baseball. The 100-loss seasons, first basemen getting hit with relay throws, outfielders scaling up the wall when the ball hits the warning track, first basemen getting swallowed by the tarp, Tony Pena Jr. playing shortstop. The list goes on and on and on.

 And this is where Zack Greinke comes in.

 He may not help the Royals back to the playoffs. He may never even play on a .500 team.

 But Greinke is arguably the greatest pitcher on the planet.

 …And he’s ours.

 And when you have the greatest pitcher on the planet, you also have hope.

 And as a wise man once said, hope… is a good thing.

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Nov 12 2009
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Tillman’s Red Glare

Pat Tillman 

“Whoso would be a man, must be a nonconformist. He who would gather palms must not be hindered by the name of goodness. … Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind….” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

Let’s start with this: This essay isn’t intended to have any real political meaning.

We live in interesting times, and it seems everything is political these days. Everything is argued, and every argument is molded into two differing viewpoints. And only two. Every argument is black and white. And there is often little room for shades of gray.

Left vs. Right. Blue vs. Red. Yes vs. No. The NFL vs. Rush, and so on.

To often, Complexity is ignored.

OK, we had to put that out there. Unfortunately.

And it’s unfortunate because this post really isn’t about politics.

This is a post about Pat Tillman.

See, I’ve been thinking about Pat Tillman a lot lately. Thinking about his life. Thinking about his death. Thinking about football and Emerson and Afghanistan.

This will all make sense in minute. Probably. 

So Pat Tillman’s story is well known to some. And I’m sure it’s only vaguely familiar to others. Just as I assume there are people who have never heard of Pat Tillman.

Well, I just finished reading Jon Krakauer’s* wonderful and brilliant book, “Where Men Win Glory.” It’s the story of Pat’s life. And I’d definitely recommend it. I’d also recommend an old Sports Illustrated article by the great Gary Smith.

*Krakauer also wrote “Into the Wild”, which of course was turned into a movie that featured Emile Hirsch and an incredible soundtrack by Eddie Vedder. He also wrote “Into Thin Air” and some book about a murder case in Utah. That last one was probably his least popular title, which probably explains why I can never remember the name of it.

But for our purposes, I’m going to do my best to tell Tillman’s story again, just for the uninitiated. Of course, this is difficult to do. Pat’s story has turned into a modern-day epic, a narrative with heroes and villains and an almost mythical protagonist.

But here, in the simplest terms, is the story of Pat Tillman.

***

He grew up in Northern California, lived in a normal middle-class family in a normal middle-class suburb. His Dad was a lawyer and his mother was a powerful free spirit. And he had two brothers.  And they did little-kid things. They hiked. They played baseball. They played football.

And this is why we know Pat Tillman.

Eventually, young Pat would grow to become one of the best high school football players in Northern California during the early 1990s. Of course, he was undersized and very few colleges wanted him. But one school, Arizona State, would give him an opportunity. Pat would be a Sun Devil. And he’d grow to become one of the best defensive players in the Pac-10 conference. 

But, of course, this is what Pat Tillman always did. So when Pat willed himself to be better, when Pat took control of the Sun Devil defense, when Pat ignored the girls on campus and went to the library instead — well, nobody noticed.

Because that was Pat. And Pat was different.

The story might have ended there. Not many people thought Pat was talented enough to play in the NFL. The kid from Arizona State was too small, scouts said. Not fast enough. We’ll pass.

But, of course, Pat would be drafted in the seventh round by the Arizona Cardinals. He’d start as a Rookie, and by the 2001-02 season, he’d become one the most underrated safeties in the NFL.

The story might have ended there. Pat had multi-million dollar contract offers. He could have taken them, played out his career, settled down, and well — we wouldn’t be writing about Pat Tillman right now.

But, of course, we are writing about Pat Tillman.

***

You see, something happened to Pat in late 2001. Maybe he was stirred by 9/11. Maybe he needed a new challenge. Maybe he was man who was simply searching for inner peace. And to find that peace, he decided he needed to fight.

Of course, there wasn’t just one reason. There never was — not with Pat.

The story continues in 2002. Tillman joined the Army. His brother, Kevin, did too. They’d both become Army Rangers. Elite warriors. They’d both serve a tour in Iraq, and then they’d both be sent off to the rubble in Afghanistan in 2004. 

And of course, Pat never came home.

He was be killed in action on a rocky cliff in Afghanistan. Shot multiple times in the head during a skirmish near a small village..

He died instantly.

In Krakauer’s book, you can read a stunningly detailed account of that skirmish near that village in Afghanistan.

It started with a broken-down Humvee. Pat’s platoon was split. One group went to clear a village, the other attended to the Humvee. 

Pat was in the first group, and his brother Kevin was in the second. The second group would be ambushed by Afghan insurgents, and members of the first group would quickly come to the aid of their platoon-mates.

In the ensuing firefight, the insurgents would vanish among the rocks and soldiers from the second group of Rangers would mistakenly fire upon their own men.*

*A member of the Afghan army, which was also fighting alongside U.S. forces, was also killed in the incident.

***

You’d think the story would end there, right? You’d think.

But remember, this is a story about complexity.

And, unfortunately, this is also a story about deception.

Seems that a few top leaders in the U.S. Military were a little worried about the fact that U.S. solders had accidentally killed one of America’s most famous soldiers.

So the next part of Tillman’s story would include military cover-ups, and poorly run investigations, and it would take weeks before Tillman’s wife, parents — and even his brother — found out the tragic news. That Pat — their Pat — had been killed by friendly fire.

***

“…Sometimes my need to love hurts — myself, my family,  my cause. Is there a cure? Of course. But I refuse. Refuse to stop loving, to stop caring. To avoid those tears, that pain… To err on the side of passion is human and right and the only way I’ll live.” — Pat Tillman, March 19th, 2003, the night before America’s invasion of Iraq.

I can’t remember the time I first heard about Pat Tillman.

I don’t remember him playing at Arizona State. I don’t remember him playing for the Cardinals. And it’s strange. It’s strange because, while I don’t remember WHEN I heard about Pat Tillman for the first time, I do remember the first time I saw him.

I remember the long flowing hair and the high cheekbones and his piercing eyes. Those eyes were his gift. And, of course, I remember the iconic photo of him running out onto the football field with that warrior stare. Always that warrior stare.

You don’t forget Pat Tillman.

***

His body came home to the United States a few days after his death.

Perhaps it’s not surprising what came next. Tillman was hailed as an American Hero. He was honored as the true embodiment of patriotism.

This, of course, is all true.

But there’s  more, because in a way, Tillman became a poster-child for the last administration’s “War on Terror.”

And while millions of people were being called unpatriotic for bringing up the mysterious lack of WMD’s in Iraq, Tillman was someone to be proud of, someone to cherish.

See that man, children? His name was Pat Tillman — the man who he gave up millions and then gave up his life fighting for his country in a faraway land.

See that man, children? His name was Pat Tillman — the man who sacrificed for our freedom. He was a simple man who gave up professional football to fight the bad guys.

**

But here’s the problem. This simple narrative smoothes over the rough edges on Tillman’s story.

This simple narrative sands down the paradoxes and contradictions that defined Pat Tillman’s life.

This simple narrative ignores intricacy and nuance.

And perhaps this is the one clear thought in this fog of questions and mysteries and contradictions.

I’m not fascinated and inspired by Pat Tillman because he was a hero. I’m fascinated and inspired by Pat Tillman because he was complex

***

“It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of  the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.” — Emerson

He loved beer.

He loved coffee, too.

And this is why I will always remember Pat Tillman.

There’s a great story about Pat Tillman and his wife Marie* taking a vacation to Paris with another couple. They were just out of college at the time. One night on the trip, they all went out to a nice French restaurant —one of those places that serves veal and fine wine — and Pat proceeded to get hammered. They drank bottle after bottle and told story after story — before they were politely asked to leave for being a little too loud.

*OK, I finally am mentioning Pat’s widow Marie. She probably deserved to be mentioned earlier. They were high school sweethearts and they were soulmates. And you can’t mention Pat without mentioning his wife.

Pat went back to the hotel, passed out, and puked red wine all over Marie’s suitcase.

Thing is, Pat loved to drink. But for him, alcohol wasn’t a coping mechanism or an escape.*

He drank because he loved people. He drank because he loved life. All he wanted to do was be with friends and share precious moments of life. He wanted to go on camping trips and crack open a beer and talk all night with friends.

*In fact, Pat was adamant that alcohol never ruin his regular routine. It didn’t either. The morning after he passed out in Paris, he woke up and ran five miles (or so) through the city.

He loved coffee for the same reason. He loved to go to coffee shops and have conversations, conversations that stretched the mind, conversations about philosophy and foreign policy and religion.

This is man who read Emerson and Thoreau and Chomsky and Nietzsche. This is a man who read the Bible and Koran for enjoyment. This is a man who kept a journal and ran marathons to cleanse his offseason boredom.

This is man who had moral concerns about the war in Iraq, but also complained in his journal when he was left out of a dangerous special operations mission.

And remember, this is a professional football player we’re talking about. He also ran a 4.6 40-yard-dash, and spent his Sunday’s lighting up NFL running backs.

But most of all, this is a man who loved his family. And that love illuminated his life.

He was a humble man of intense self-confidence. He was a man of compassion and kindness and joy, and he was man of a ferocity and sadness and sorrow.

There’s an old line in the book, “On The Road” by the brilliant Jack Kerouac. The book, of course, is about Kerouac’s travels through America in the 1950s — the era of beat. The two main characters, Sal Paradise (Kerouac) and Dean Moriarty (Neal Cassady) are on a constant journey to explore life and people and emotions.

And well, the line goes like this:

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!'”

Pat Tillman didn’t have to die to become an American legend.

He already was…

…we just never would have known.

You see, Pat Tillman burned like a yellow roman candle all his life. 

And in the end, his fire was so great, and his explosion was so loud and bright… we all just went ‘Awww’.

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Nov 07 2009
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Friday Night Sights

This story starts at a McDonalds off the highway in Blue Springs, Missouri.

It’s sort of a story about high school — but not really. It’s sort of a story about football coaches and football players — but not really. And it’s sort of a story about growing up in a Midwestern suburb — but it’s not really that either.

But the story starts at the McDonalds. The place was packed. High school students were hanging out in front. More high school students ordered milkshakes and cheeseburgers. A young mother in a high school football jersey sat in a booth with her daughter.

Two miles away, in a high school football stadium that sits amid a neighborhood of nice suburban homes, Blue Springs High School had just crushed Lee’s Summit High School.

Blue Springs is one of the best high school football teams in the state of Missouri. Have been for some time. They are coached by a young man named Kelly Donohoe. Many people will tell you that Kelly Donohoe is the best high school football coach in Kansas City. Some will tell you that he’s the best high school football coach in Missouri. Blue Springs fans will tell you that he’s the best high school football coach in America.

Donohoe once was a star high school football player in Harrisonville, Mo. He once played quarterback at the University of Kansas. He’s not a imposing figure. He’s graduating class at Kansas celebrated their 20th anniversary this year, yet he still looks like he might be carded by a strict bartender.*

*Upon further review, Donohoe vaguely resembles Oklahoma State coach Mike Gundy. This is mildly interesting for two reasons. One, Gundy and Donohoe were both quarterbacks at Big Eight schools in the late 80s. Donohoe at KU and Gundy, of course, with the Cowboys. And two, this gives me an opportunity to tell my Mike Gundy story.

Gundy, of course, is most famous for his “I’m a man. I’m 40” rant. And of course, this rant was directed at a columnist at the Daily Oklahoman named Jenni Carlson, who once attended the Journalism school at the University of Kansas. (Far above the golden valley!)

Gundy was upset with a column that Carlson wrote about former Oklahoma State quarterback Bobby Reid.

In short, the column attacked Reid’s mental toughness and painted a scene in which Reid’s mother fed him chicken tenders with her own fingers. Yea. A little bizarre. Anyway, after a game in 2007 (I believe Texas Tech), Gundy called out Carlson and had his iconic rant for the ages. Two years later, you could argue that Gundy’s rant is the most quoted outburst from a coach in the history of sports. Really, some of Gundy’s lines — “…CAUSE HE’S FAT!”, “WHERE ARE WE IN SOCIETY TODAY?”, and “I’M A MAN…” — have seeped into our pop-culture lexicon. But in the 2007, the Gundy rant was still hot. It was a YouTube sensation. And it was parodied everywhere.

But if there’s one thing I remember, it’s the orange OSU background. You see, Gundy went on his rant in a small press conference room at T. Boone Pickens Stadium in Stillwater. And as he ranted, he paced back in forth in front of an Orange backdrop adorned with OSU emblems. That backdrop became a symbol of that rant. I suppose it wasn’t a great advertisement for OSU athletics.

But this was 2007, and this was also the year KU had its Dream Season – at least, according to Sports Illustrated. Kansas won its first nine games that year. And the Jayhawks traveled to Stillwater in November for a Saturday night primetime game on ABC. It was a big game for a number of reasons. For one, by the time that game kicked off, Kansas was the only undefeated BCS school in the country. (I believe Ohio State had lost earlier in the afternoon.) So there was definitely a buzz in Stillwater.

I made the drive down with three friends to cover the game for KU’s student radio station, KJHK, and the school paper, The University Daily Kansan. When we got down there for the game, Kansas City Star columnist Jason Whitlock had just learned about Ohio State’s loss, and he was running around shouting, “This is the biggest game in the country!”

Like I said — there was a buzz. Kansas, of course, would go out and blitz Oklahoma State. And Kansas was introduced to the nation. Todd Reesing would play brilliantly (so would Marcus Henry), and ABC’s Brent Musberger would utter the words, “Shades of Doug Flutie”, and afterward, Henry and linebacker Joe Mortensen would sit in a cement concourse at Boone Pickens Stadium and tell a group of reporters what it felt like to be the last undefeated BCS team in college football.

I stood and listened to Mortensen for a moment. Kansas was 10-0 and it was all quite hard to believe. But I also wanted to see what the Cowboys’ Gundy would say about the Jayhawks. So I hustled over to Gundy’s post-game press conference and quietly sat down in the back. I can vaguely remember what Gundy said. Something about how Kansas was “real good” and how they “deserved the credit.” But I wasn’t really listening. I had taken my seat and looked around the room at all the reporters. Then I looked forward and saw it: That familiar Orange backdrop. And then I saw Gundy walk in. And all I could think about was YouTube and the rant and all those ridiculous words. Wow, I thought. This is THE ROOM.

But yes, Donohoe — the man who looks like graduate student — is a leader. When Donohoe talks, his players listen.

His team had routed Lee’s Summit 45-12. And His team has a young running back named Darrian Miller, who is one of the best football players in the city. He’s rushed for more than 2,000 yards this year. He is 5 feet 9 and 180 pounds and he is old-school. He doesn’t dance. No, he hits the hole with speed and power, and he runs ferociously and explosively. He is only a junior, and his myth is only starting to grow. You might hear about him some day. But for now, he flies around under the lights at Blue Springs High School, and little kids whisper his name.

I suppose this is where the story comes together. I covered Darrian and Donohoe and Blue Springs on Friday night for the Kansas City Star. They will play Kansas City power Rockhurst next week for the right to go to the State semifinals.

But there is something great about covering high school sports. Here’s the thing: For four hours every Friday, you are transported back in to high school.

I know not everybody had a great time in high school. It can be a confusing time.

But there is something great about high school sports. I played basketball and baseball when I was in high school, and it was great. I could write for hours about those experiences. But in some ways, high school football games were just as special.

Groups of friends, chilly fall nights, the school band blasting out the high school fight song. Obnoxious middle school kids running around and awkwardly flirting with members of the opposite sex. This is high school football in the Midwest.

And no matter where you are, there are a few things you will always see at high school football games.

The home school will always brag that they have the best band in the state.

*Excuse me, but I’m throwing a shoutout to the “Rompin’ Stompin’ Raider Band” from Shawnee Mission South – Nothing greater…

The home school will always brag that they have the best teachers in the World.

You will smell hot dogs. You will smell Chili. You will buy programs that are an inch thick but contain seven pictures and 700 ads. You will always see a Math teacher working the game clock — and most of the time, this Math teacher will know little about football and will yell at the refs constantly.

And lastly, there will be an IHOP, or a McDonalds, or a Buffalo Wild Wings near the school, and these places will be packed after the game.

High school kids will sit in these restaurants and try to figure out what to do that night. And usually, they will end up driving around aimlessly, while looking for a place to drink.

So after Friday night’s game in Blue Springs, I was sitting at McDonalds. This McDonalds had wireless internet and I had to send in my story. I was 30 miles from where I grew up. But this place looked familiar. I saw the kids outside, looking for something to do. I figured they were 15- or 16-years-old. I figured they were Missouri fans.

A few miles away, there was a shopping center and commercial development area. There were Old Chicagos and Targets and Applebees and Chipotles and Paneras and other semi-expensive clothing stores. And then I had some very deep thoughts about the nature of sprawl and progress and the fact that every suburb in America seems to look exactly the same.

And to be honest, I’m not sure what it all means, but as I was stewing on my incomplete thought, I was interrupted by a mom in a Blue Springs football jersey.

She had seen my Kansas City Star photo ID.

“You from The Star?” She asked.

Yea.

“Well,” she said. “Hope you write something good about us. Blue Springs is pretty tough this year.”

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Nov 05 2009
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Yankees and Intros

Well, let’s start with this: The Yankees are about to win their 27th World Series, Barack Obama just celebrated the one-year anniversary of his presidency, and I’m fumbling through my first awkward blog post.*

*Derek Jeter just singled. Could you feel it?

So yes, I promise this is going somewhere mildly interesting — and we’ll get there, we will — but first I guess we’ll deal with some paperwork. Here’s the deal: Mark and I are journalists. At least, we are in the sense that people pay us meager amounts of money to report on other people. It can be a strange job*.

*Maybe that will be a running theme of this Blog. Of course, I don’t suspect this blog will have a running theme.

Mark had this take on it one time…

It’s essentially a fake job. It’s your job to tell a large group of people about a small group of newsworthy individuals. And when you write about sports, you’re basically working a fake job and writing about another fake job.

So yea, it can be weird.

So I guess this is where the Blog comes in. In short, we’re just two guys who like to write, two guys who like to tell stories, two guys who like sports and music and pop culture.

So I guess that’s what this place, tentatively called The Brew House, will be — a place for Mark and me to tell stories.*

*For starters, the Yankees just clinched the World Series title, and Fox did a strange montage of all the starters celebrating after the final out. You know, I don’t know how you’re supposed to act when you win the World Series. I suppose there’s no “right” way to do it. And these kind of celebrations tend to end up being a little awkward. But this one might have qualified for all-time awkward status.

First, there was Hideki Matsui, who had just driven in six runs, smiling and shouting “Yea.” Awkward. Then, there was A-Rod running in the pile with his arms up. More awkward. And it looked like a few guys tried to start a dogpile, but everyone else didn’t really want to, so the team just kind of stood up and danced around in a big mob. Again. Awkard.

So I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to bag on the Yankees. There’s plenty of people to do that. But, if you watched the celebration, if you watched the… well, awkwardness, if you watched A-Rod, I think you might have thought the same thing I did: All that talk about the Yankees having great team chemistry was greatly exaggerated.

So what will be write about? I guess we’ll see. Maybe some basketball, maybe some essays about the state of rap music, maybe some essays about the state of the newspaper industry, maybe some essays about the state of the Royals, maybe we’ll share some funny links, maybe some words about 90s television shows — who knows?

There was this guy named Oscar Wilde. He was a writer, and he once said this:

“I love talking about nothing, it’s the only thing I know anything about.”

So, I guess that’s what this place will be. We’ll be writing about nothing.

And maybe, just maybe — that’ll be something.

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