Money Can’t Buy You Love (and it can’t buy you championships either)

With the signing of CC Sabathia, AJ Burnett and Mark Teixeira, the cries of  “the Yankees are trying to buy another championship” have reached a fevered pitch.  I have heard some form of this complaint for several years.  Here’s the thing: the last time the Yankees won the World Series was 2000.  If they have been trying to “buy” a championship for all these years, it seems to me that it doesn’t work.  So if you were a Yankee hater, wouldn’t you want the Yankees to attempt to “buy” a championship?

The “trying to buy another championship” attack is based on pure ignorance.  The team with the highest payroll does not always win the World Series.  Player development, a smart front office and manager (ones who like OBP and plate discipline), injuries (rather the lack of) and pure luck all factor into the equation.

I don’t want to get into a debate whether the Yankees spending hurts or helps the game of baseball.  All I can say is that the Yankees play within the economic rules laid down by MLB.   Teams take in more money from MLB revenue sharing than they spend on their payroll (Marlins).  A team has to cut payroll because the owner is going through a divorce (Padres).  Another team trades away (arguably) the league’s best pitcher because they won’t pay what he will ask in free agency, while the billionare owner is building a publicly funded stadium, and then miss the playoffs by one game (think the Twins could have used Johan?).  You tell me what is worse for the game.

I will never criticize a team that spends money in an attempt to win.  Isn’t any team that spends money on a free agent trying to “buy” a championship? Or is it just the Yankees?  I won’t apologize for the Yankees for trying to win.  The question is: Why isn’t your team?

A Bird of Prey Can Notta Fire When She’s Cloaked

I have no problem admitting i like nerdy/geeky things.  I like computers.  I play video games.  I watch BSG.  I read novels based on the universe created by… But recently things may have gotten a bit out of hand.

I guess it started when i decided to start reading graphic novels.  Watchmen, classic. But now i’ve moved on to The Walking Dead.  The story follows a group of people trying to survive the zombie apocalypse*.  Needless to say it is not smooth sailing.  At the end of volume 1, the (anti-?) hero’s 8 year old son shoots and kills his father’s former best friend, who had an affair with our hero’s wife while he was in a coma when the zombies came and now she is pregnant with the dead best friend’s child which the hero assumes is his.  Shit breaks down in small groups.

*I’ve often wondered how i would fare during the war against the zombies.

I am now reading the prequel novels to the Dune series that were co written by Frank Herbert’s son and Kevin J Anderson (the Star Wars novelist who isn’t as good as Tim Zahn).  Through sheer force of willpower i made it through the final three original novels (Paul becomes a giant god-emperor sand worm… give me a break).  I don’t know what made me decide to read the first prequel.  I am already mad at technology that appeared 15,000(!) years in the Dune future showing up in the prequels.  A scene blatantly rips off Star Trek 6*.  I can’t stand it.. And I’m ready for the next one.

*an invisible “no-ship” (does “no-ship” rhyme with cloaked?) positions itself under a ship,  fires on another in the hope of  starting an inter-galactic incident.  I can almost hear Christopher Plummer quoting Shakespeare in Klingon.

Thanks to my friend Patrick, i now have a modded Xbox.  This means i can now stream media from my computer to my TV.  But most importantly, i can load up the Xbox with emulators and roms and play games for: Atari 2600, Atari 800xl, Amiga, Colecovision, Intellivision, NES, SNES, Sega Genesis, Sega Master System, Game Boy, Arcade, Sega CD, N64, Apple II.  Now it means i can either sell or store all of my old games systems with a clear consience.  Truth be told most of the games suck.  You mean i actually played these as a kid and enjoyed them*.  The worst part of this is i haven’t even transferred all of the emulators and roms to the Xbox but i still have filled up its hard drive.  Next step: Installing a larger hard drive in my Xbox.

*note to howell: pixie-games?

I’ve done a few other nerdy things like setting up a completely new filling system on my computers hard drive.  But i promise all of this is an aberration.  I’ll be back to my super cool, suave, emo self soon.  In the meantime i have a graphic novel to read.

There Will be Blood

I have two cats. I live alone. I hope i don’t grow up to be the crazy cat guy. I will get a dog before I let that happen.

Books on cats* say they can lead perfectly happy lives indoors. These same books also say that cats have never been tamed. Cats are still independent and retain their instinct to hunt etc. Aren’t these two positions in direct opposition? The inside of my house in no way replicates the wonders of the natural world. Cats were originally feral and have not been completly domesticated. Ergo, cats retain the desire to go outside and cannot be completly satisfied indoors.

*And when i say books on cats, what I really mean is Cats for Dummies. So my statements may be based on poor recollection, faulty logic, and bad science.

When I rescued my cats I had every intention of keeping them indoors. And for the most part of the past three years I kept them in the house. Occasionally they would sneak out after a late night on the town, when my reactions were a bit slow. They would be back the next day and I would re-resolve to keep them indoors. But the above paradox began to bother me. I though a little outside playtime would make them happier. It couldn’t hurt. So after a night out at the bar, I came home and the cats wanted to go out. In slightly slurred speech, I asked “You want to go out? Fine go out!”. I let them out and proceeded to pass out.

Charlie made it back the next day. Pixel, the cat who walks through walls, * didn’t make it back till several days later. There would be no more outdoor adventures for Pixel if I could help it (which sometime i cant’). But Charlie seemed to be a bit more responsible always making it back the next morning if he got out.

*The parents of a friend wanted to find a home for two homeless cats they had been feeding. I volunteered. I picked them up early Super Bowl Sunday 2005. Got them home, played with them, wasted time on the computer for a few hours. I noticed one of the cats was missing. I don’t have a big house. Not many places to hide. I searched the house. Walked up and down the street. Checked the crawlspace under my house. But I could not find the cat. I seriously questioned my sanity and thought about calling my friend to make sure i actually brought home two cats. I went to my parents house for the Super Bowl. When I got back that night I hear meowing. There is a small hole in my wall behind my oven. I checked that earlier, too small for a cat to fit though, right? Wrong. The newly christened Pixel was in my wall. Pixel’s last outdoor adventure ended after a week of him missing and me finding him in my attic(!?) a week later. That cat is NOT allowed outside anymore!

Charlie and I have developed a routine. I get up in the morning. Smoke a cigarette on the front porch while Charlie wanders around the front yard. He’ll claw at the tree branches in my yard. leave him outside while i get ready for work. By the time I’m ready for work Charlie is ready to come back inside.

Same routine today. Smoke a cigarette. Let Charlie out. Go inside to eat lunch/breakfast. Watch the Yankees game on the computer. Go back outside for another cigarette. I hear a muffled meow. Charlie struts onto the front porch with a bird in his mouth. I am horrified. Charlie is still attempting to meow. He wants to bring the bird inside. I think about throwing up. How am i going to get the bird out of his mouth? What sort of diseases is Charlie going to contract? As these scenarios play out in my head i see movement out of the corner of my eye. The bird flies off! The bird was not dead! Charlie chases after his quarry.

There are drops of bird blood on my porch.

God Dammit! Are You Talking About My Heart. Like It’s Something You Could Break

The Memphis Tigers are in the Final Four for the first time since 1985. I moved from Buffalo to Memphis in 1991. Graduated from the University of Memphis in 2000. And in that time I never truly became a Tiger fan until this year. Before you yell “Bandwagon!”, please let me defend myself.

The sports teams of my youth have caused me enough pain. Let me enumerate:

Buffalo Bills

Wide right!! That should explain enough. But there are three more Super Bowl losses to consider. The Redskins. The Cowboys x2 (those two Super Bowls just run together). Somewhere in there my family stopped going to Super Bowl parties. The Music City Miracle. (Why Wade Phillips benched Doug Flutie for Rob Johnson I’ll never understand. But I count my blessings now Phillips coaches the Cowboys). And the general malaise that has infected the Bills since Jim Kelly retired.

Buffalo Sabres

No Goal! Odd how four words (no goal and wide right) can conjure up such painful memories. 1999 Stanley Cup Finals. Game 6. Triple OT. Brett Hull, skate in the crease, as he scores the Cup winning goal. All year long goals were disallowed when a opposing skate was inside of the crease before the puck. Oh, and the NHL has instant replay to prevent travesties like this. I don’t care if Wayne Gretzky says it’s a goal. It wasn’t.* The Sabres teased me last year and the year before by making it to the conference finals, only to lose Chris Drury and Daniel Briere as free agents this past off-season… on the same day!

*Not sure if it was during the 1999 playoff run or another one, but Miroslav Satan (pronounced Sha-tan) provided one of the best sports lines headlines ever. After scoring the game winning goal, the next day’s head line read “Satan Lifts Sabres to Victory”. I cannot believe I threw away that clipping.

New York Yankees

OK you may say “But the Yankees win all the time. They’re the Evil Empire!”. Remember from the early 80s till 1994 the Yankees absolutely sucked! I saw Tommy John commit three errors on one play. The Yankees started Rick Rhoden at DH for a game (he was a pitcher!).  Stump Merril and Dallas Green were managers. Before Derek Jeter at shortstop we have (working backwards): Tony Fernandez (OPS+ 75), Mike Gallego (OPS+80), Spike Owen (OPS+ 66), Andy Stankiewicz (OPS+ 93, ok not too bad but he was ANDY STANKIEWICZ!), and Alvaro Espinoza (OPS+ 73). A league average OPS+ is 100. So 1996-2000 was amazing. But since 2000 there have been a few bumps. I still feign amnesia when asked about October of 2004.

New York Yankees/Buffalo Bills

On Monday October 8, 2007, I received a double dose of sports induced emotional trauma. I arrived at my favorite bar just in time to see my beloved Yankees get bounced from the playoffs. About a half-hour later i get to see the Buffalo Bills completely blow a nine point lead to the hated Cowboys in the final five minute. The smokers outpost outside the bar is permanently dented now. Luckily i was wearing steel toe shoes.

Now we arrive at Saturday February 16th, I’m sitting at a bar having a couple of beers. Just killing time. The Tigers’ game isn’t on since this bar only has satellite TV (the game was only on Comcast cable). No big deal. I was alone. All the sports bars were packed. And besides the Tigers were playing UAB. It was going to be another cakewalk. I kept up with the score on the ticker and on my phone. Five minutes to go, UAB is up and I realize I HAVE TO see the end of the game. I walk to the nearest sports bar. Two minutes left. Antonio Anderson hits a three and cuts UAB’s lead to 4. Chris-Douglas Roberts nails another three. Down 1 with 39 seconds left. We foul. UAB makes one free throw. CDR ties the game on a jumper. Foul. CDR free throw. Up by one 7 seconds left and UAB’s prayer is unanswered. All the while I am biting my nails, fist pumping, and “Yes!”ing with the rest of the fans. Walking out of the bar, stunned by the comeback i had I had just witnessed, I realize something: I am a Tigers fan.

I have long felt that Memphis and Buffalo were very similar cities. Both blue-collar. Memphis a two-fisted river town. Buffalo a trying-to-hang on Rust-Belt city. Both overshadowed by more cosmopolitan cities in the same state: NYC and Nashville. Both smaller market teams, whose fan loyalty has never been questioned (we’ll ignore the Grizzlies, the Tigers were here first). Buffalo sports teams get a bad rap because they can’t win the big one. The Tigers get no respect because they play in C-USA and not the SEC. In short underdog cities.

As I walked out of the sports bar that night the Gunslinger might have said to me: “You have forgotten the face of your father”. If anything I believe in the underdog. It is the lost causes that are worth fighting for. And I believe for years I denied my Tiger fandom. Four Super Bowl losses in a row. A Stanley Cup stolen. A decade of futility and a historic playoff collapse. I didn’t want to endure any more sports induced agony. I cannot deny it any longer. I will not forget the face of my father. I am a Tiger fan. And though I may have realized this while they are at the top. I do not give out my fandom capriciously. I am now stuck with the Tigers, through thick and thin.

The first Tiger game I was able to watch in its entirety as a fan was their loss to Tennessee the next week.