Friday, October 31, 2008
Friday Day Lights
This being Halloween, I'm taking the day off from writing about the lights. But Dubblins, you ask, how are you writing this. Well let's leave that to your imaginations. Needless to say, Halloween is a special time of year for me. I can't tell you how many times I've been dressed up (28) and how many times I've seen my daddy all dressed up (28) as a go go dancer. It's his favorite costume. He does look good in it. He really gets into it. He shaves his legs and everything. He always said Halloween was his favorite holiday of the year, even more so than Christmas and Flag Day. Weird. I'm not with him this year, which makes me sad. It's okay, though, because when I talked to him on the cellular phone today, he told me and him and Unkie were bobbing their heads and getting their sacks ready. Lucky them.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Oops! My bad...
Well, it turns out that last night wasn't opening night for my GRIZZ. That was a tad disappointing. My brother was pretty angry. There wasn't enough cheese in the house to calm him down. He ended up punching me in the privates pretty hard. Then he stomped out of the house leaving me in a crumpled heap on the floor with the faint traces of cheese on my crotch.
My wife was pretty upset with what he did. After I quit puking, I tried to calm her down, but I don't think it worked. I told her that big brothers were allowed to do stuff like that to little brothers especially when the little brother messes up as badly as I did. She told me that I was wrong but I told her that she just didn't understand because she wasn't a little brother.
She just stomped off and went to bed. I mean, mercy me, that wasn't even the worst thing that he'd done to my privates before. I don't want to turn this into some sort of sex blog so I'll spare you all the details. Let's just say it involved tape, a first pubic hair, 3 of his friends, and about 30 minutes of pointing and laughing at exposed privates.
The thing about big brothers that my wife doesn't understand though is that they always say they're sorry. And that's enough. Chances are, when I get back from doing some insurance stuff today, there's going to be a fresh funnel cake on my desk from I-know-who.
And everything will be alright. And my privates will be safe again.
As long as I don't do anything stupid.
GO GRIZZ!
My wife was pretty upset with what he did. After I quit puking, I tried to calm her down, but I don't think it worked. I told her that big brothers were allowed to do stuff like that to little brothers especially when the little brother messes up as badly as I did. She told me that I was wrong but I told her that she just didn't understand because she wasn't a little brother.
She just stomped off and went to bed. I mean, mercy me, that wasn't even the worst thing that he'd done to my privates before. I don't want to turn this into some sort of sex blog so I'll spare you all the details. Let's just say it involved tape, a first pubic hair, 3 of his friends, and about 30 minutes of pointing and laughing at exposed privates.
The thing about big brothers that my wife doesn't understand though is that they always say they're sorry. And that's enough. Chances are, when I get back from doing some insurance stuff today, there's going to be a fresh funnel cake on my desk from I-know-who.
And everything will be alright. And my privates will be safe again.
As long as I don't do anything stupid.
GO GRIZZ!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
OPENING NIGHT IS FINALLY HERE!
We've been waiting all summer and spring, friends, and it's finally here. Opening night. Tonight. And I can't wait!
But I'm not QUITE ready for it, actually. I'm having a big party tonight and I don't have nearly enough supplies to keep everyone happy. My brother and his family will be here to watch our GRIZZ take on the Rockets and my brother likes to eat Doritos and nacho cheese when the GRizz take on the ROckets! He's the cheesiest!
That's what he tells me anyway. Anyway, I'm headed out to the store to get more stuff with cheese.
I can honestly say that opening day of the GRIZZLY season is like no other day. It's probably my favorite time of the year, but it doesn't come close to Christmas when I get to see my whole family.
My most favorite of gifts that I ever got was a Bryant Reeves flat top. It was actually a gift certificate FOR a replica real-life Bryant Reeves flat top which was to be given to me by my brother a few years ago when the GRIZZ first moved to Memphis and me and my brother became such big fans.
You see, my brother had apparently been practicing his hair-cutting for just this occassion. He had clippers(HA, like the team!) and everything. Well, I guess he didn't practice enough because when he was done, my hair looked pretty bad. It was like he was blind or something and he felt pretty bad about it.
I told him that it was the thought that counted and I'd wear that haircut clear up until I could get someone to fix it. Then I sang him a song about brotherhood and how I loved him.
When I went to get my hair fixed, the elderly lady felt sorry for me and took a liking to me. We started talking and she turned out to be a widow and she found out that I was single. Then, one thing led to another and I married her daughter and it's all thanks to that replica real-life Bryant Reeves flat top!
Thanks brother! Me and the wife can't wait to see you and your family tonight if they can make it. Merry CHristmas!
But I'm not QUITE ready for it, actually. I'm having a big party tonight and I don't have nearly enough supplies to keep everyone happy. My brother and his family will be here to watch our GRIZZ take on the Rockets and my brother likes to eat Doritos and nacho cheese when the GRizz take on the ROckets! He's the cheesiest!
That's what he tells me anyway. Anyway, I'm headed out to the store to get more stuff with cheese.
I can honestly say that opening day of the GRIZZLY season is like no other day. It's probably my favorite time of the year, but it doesn't come close to Christmas when I get to see my whole family.
My most favorite of gifts that I ever got was a Bryant Reeves flat top. It was actually a gift certificate FOR a replica real-life Bryant Reeves flat top which was to be given to me by my brother a few years ago when the GRIZZ first moved to Memphis and me and my brother became such big fans.
You see, my brother had apparently been practicing his hair-cutting for just this occassion. He had clippers(HA, like the team!) and everything. Well, I guess he didn't practice enough because when he was done, my hair looked pretty bad. It was like he was blind or something and he felt pretty bad about it.
I told him that it was the thought that counted and I'd wear that haircut clear up until I could get someone to fix it. Then I sang him a song about brotherhood and how I loved him.
When I went to get my hair fixed, the elderly lady felt sorry for me and took a liking to me. We started talking and she turned out to be a widow and she found out that I was single. Then, one thing led to another and I married her daughter and it's all thanks to that replica real-life Bryant Reeves flat top!
Thanks brother! Me and the wife can't wait to see you and your family tonight if they can make it. Merry CHristmas!
Thursday, October 23, 2008
The Only Series That Matters: Game 1
I apologize for the long delay in posting over here, but it's been hard to even profile this team right now. Sure, I could blame it on the nervous breakdown I suffered a couple of weeks ago which caused my temporary committal to a medical facility until I was no longer "a danger to myself and others," but that would be disengenuous.
The honest truth is I was just plain bummed.
There's no other way to put it. I was bummed at Major League Baseball's cowardly last-minute decision to "level the playing field" by not allowing the Grizzlies to participate in the postseason this year.1 Something about "the game has become massively unpopular in several major markets " due to the near quarter century of unquestioned dominance displayed by our Boys in Pink. Those quarters? The decadent East Coast baseball establishment, led by the longtime also-ran sports network, ESPN. ESPN, if you may remember, came on strong in the early 80s, only to be ousted by the juggernaut that was formed when a winning Grizz team prompted a WGN/Lifetime Network merger in 1987. While ESPN still clings to life by duking it out with TBS and FOX for non-Grizzly table scraps every summer and feasting on its monopoly of winter sports like curling and indoor ping-pong, the jealousy felt by the media in the ironically nicknamed "First City" is palpable.
So, their endless and pathetic lobbying has finally found success. On a trial basis, the MLB office has suspended the Grizz from the postseason, citing that they violate Anti-trust legislation. A terrifying precedent to set. Grizzly Manager Skip Essian has retired in disgust, and several players are seriously considering forming their own barnstorming team. Alonso Sorialdo has selflessly offered to bankroll this Globetrotting team from his vast personal fortune,2 should the need arise, but most Grizz players are trying to ride this out, and hope that public outcry will be sufficient to get the Pink Train back on the rails in 2009.
However, in a gesture of love for their fans, the Grizz are giving back to the community the only way they know how: by playing baseball at a level not seen outside of the Gods of Olympus.3 The Real World Champions are playing a best of seven against the only team that stands a chance of winning: themselves.
And I was there for Game One last night at the Pad, still in my hospital gown,4 to cheer them on!
Though I was hoping for a surprise unveiling of the mythical "40-Therroyo roster6" vs. the rest of the Grizz, I was treated to a different, arguably greater experience.
The Grizz had designated two team-members as captainsof each squad:7
"Finito."
A hush spread over the crowd, as thousands of Grizzheads checked their iPhones for a translation of Zapato's comment. A gasp spread over the same crowd when they realized what he meant.
"Ginormous Z" was challenging the entire Grizz lineup singlehandedly.
An argument ensued as various members of the Grizz lineup attempted to convince Pancho that that was madness. Of course, that was like pouring gasoline on the fire, as Pancho has had a long running bet with Ozzie Guillen and Hugo Chavez as to who is the craziest Venezualan alive.
I could say that cooler heads prevailed, but I would be lying. Eventually Derrick Li and Woodrow Kerrigan managed to talk Z into taking on a catcher, just so the balls wouldn't pelt celebrity umpire Jeremy Piven. Of course, given the choice between rookie phenom Giovanni Solo and seasoned veteran Carlos Negro (Or "Chuck Black" as he's known to his legions of fans), the Z-man made the only choice he could have made.
Mack "Little Big Klusz" Fontegna.
This was a stunning development, as Fontegna has never played the position before. Nor did he fit into either of the catcher's gear (a local little league coach living nearby had to race home to get pads that fit the diminuative infielder-turned-backstop). But just getting Z to agree to have a teammate took 25 minutes, and the lines to every Shenanigan's in the Pad were starting to grow full of hungry and restless Grizzheads.
Finally, the game began in earnest. And what a game! Zapata and "Little Big" took an early lead after Z hit a first inning grand slam off of Canadian newcomer Rick Wardon8 that brought in Fontegna and the "ghost runners" on second and third. After that, Wardon settled into a strong series of shutout innings before getting pulled in the seventh.9
Meanwhile, Zapato was pitching like a man possessed. He struck out the first 19 batters, despite the fact that he was clearly just aiming his pitches at Fontegna's (admittedly shaking) glove. Then, in the seventh, leadoff man Sorialdo got the first ball into play. It was a line drive comebacker that Z fielded barehanded.
For a lark, Z pitched lefthanded to the next two Grizzlies (Ryne "Ryngo" Therroyo and Derrick Li), striking The Royo out on 5 pitches and beating out a grounder to first by Li. The fact that Pancho only beat Li by a step apparently scared Ginormous Z enough that he switched back to righthanded pitching and gunned down his rival captain in three pitches.
A scoreless and batterless eighth followed, though it was not without heroics as left fielder Rook Jackson (replacing Alonso Sorialdo, who had to rush to a board meeting) made a spectacular diving catch headlong into the Pink Monster. He got up and finished the game, though at the time of my writing it is unclear whether the speech centers of his brain will ever recover from the impact.
Zapata and Fontegna failed to score in the ninth (as Woodrow Kerrigan was playing at his regular postseason levels), stranding a ghost on third and Zapata at first on a groundout. In the ninth inning, the rest of the Grizz turned on the heat. Number 8 hitter, Kotsay Thundudome got the first hit the game for his side (and ended his 4 game mini-slump - the longest of the season), a triple scorching down the right field line.9 Pinch hitter Darlyle "Big Possum" Wadd advanced to first after the inexperienced Fontegna dropped strike three - Thundudome would have scored then but, as he stated in the postgame interview, Pancho Zapata stared at him with such rage that he feared for both "his life and the lives of his ancestors" if he left third. It is unsure what this actually means, but Kotsay looked pretty rattled.
Of course, none of this mattered as the now-functionally-retarded Rook Jackson belted a homerun over the very same Pink Monster that had taken a sizable chunk of his prefrontal cortex in the previous inning. Z fumed, Fontegna quaked, and The Royo stuck out on a close fastball on a full count (that umpire Piven originally called a ball until Z stared him down). Derrick Li then hit a combacker at Zapata that might have been an out had the Golden Bull not attempted to field it in his teeth.
The richocheted ball landed in the "visitors" dugout and was ruled a ground rule double by a visibly quivering Piven. This set the stage for the at-bat to end all at-bats: Pancho Zapata vs. Ramis Rodriguez. I would love to give a play-by-play for this AB, but at that exact moment my table number was called at Shennanny North, and I missed the first 8 pitches getting seated. By the time I could locate a jumbotron, it was a full count. And it stayed that way for 37 straight foul pitches. I was already finished with my Tater Nachos before El Hombre Gigantico hung a slider right in Rodriguez's zone. He grooved it all the way to where the old "Eamus Catuli" sign used to be (now a jumbotron devoted to Designing Women reruns)!10 The crowd erupted, half of them hanging up their cellphones to applaud, the other half calling friends to see if they got on TV.
It was a madhouse! With just one game down, this series is already interesting. While the underdog Zapata squad lost, it was a nailbiter, and I think any of the local media calling for a sweep are premature.
I for one, am just glad that the Grizz aren't letting a little thing like not making it to the postseason end their season.
Here's hoping everyone tunes in for game 2, and whether you're rooting for squad A or Squad B - Go Grizz!
The honest truth is I was just plain bummed.
There's no other way to put it. I was bummed at Major League Baseball's cowardly last-minute decision to "level the playing field" by not allowing the Grizzlies to participate in the postseason this year.1 Something about "the game has become massively unpopular in several major markets " due to the near quarter century of unquestioned dominance displayed by our Boys in Pink. Those quarters? The decadent East Coast baseball establishment, led by the longtime also-ran sports network, ESPN. ESPN, if you may remember, came on strong in the early 80s, only to be ousted by the juggernaut that was formed when a winning Grizz team prompted a WGN/Lifetime Network merger in 1987. While ESPN still clings to life by duking it out with TBS and FOX for non-Grizzly table scraps every summer and feasting on its monopoly of winter sports like curling and indoor ping-pong, the jealousy felt by the media in the ironically nicknamed "First City" is palpable.
So, their endless and pathetic lobbying has finally found success. On a trial basis, the MLB office has suspended the Grizz from the postseason, citing that they violate Anti-trust legislation. A terrifying precedent to set. Grizzly Manager Skip Essian has retired in disgust, and several players are seriously considering forming their own barnstorming team. Alonso Sorialdo has selflessly offered to bankroll this Globetrotting team from his vast personal fortune,2 should the need arise, but most Grizz players are trying to ride this out, and hope that public outcry will be sufficient to get the Pink Train back on the rails in 2009.
However, in a gesture of love for their fans, the Grizz are giving back to the community the only way they know how: by playing baseball at a level not seen outside of the Gods of Olympus.3 The Real World Champions are playing a best of seven against the only team that stands a chance of winning: themselves.
And I was there for Game One last night at the Pad, still in my hospital gown,4 to cheer them on!
Though I was hoping for a surprise unveiling of the mythical "40-Therroyo roster6" vs. the rest of the Grizz, I was treated to a different, arguably greater experience.
The Grizz had designated two team-members as captainsof each squad:7
- Squad A: Third Baseman Extraordinaire and reknowned animal rights activist Ramis Rodriguez
- Squad B: "El Toro del Oro" himself, the always zany starting pitcher Pacho Zapato
"Finito."
A hush spread over the crowd, as thousands of Grizzheads checked their iPhones for a translation of Zapato's comment. A gasp spread over the same crowd when they realized what he meant.
"Ginormous Z" was challenging the entire Grizz lineup singlehandedly.
An argument ensued as various members of the Grizz lineup attempted to convince Pancho that that was madness. Of course, that was like pouring gasoline on the fire, as Pancho has had a long running bet with Ozzie Guillen and Hugo Chavez as to who is the craziest Venezualan alive.
I could say that cooler heads prevailed, but I would be lying. Eventually Derrick Li and Woodrow Kerrigan managed to talk Z into taking on a catcher, just so the balls wouldn't pelt celebrity umpire Jeremy Piven. Of course, given the choice between rookie phenom Giovanni Solo and seasoned veteran Carlos Negro (Or "Chuck Black" as he's known to his legions of fans), the Z-man made the only choice he could have made.
Mack "Little Big Klusz" Fontegna.
This was a stunning development, as Fontegna has never played the position before. Nor did he fit into either of the catcher's gear (a local little league coach living nearby had to race home to get pads that fit the diminuative infielder-turned-backstop). But just getting Z to agree to have a teammate took 25 minutes, and the lines to every Shenanigan's in the Pad were starting to grow full of hungry and restless Grizzheads.
Finally, the game began in earnest. And what a game! Zapata and "Little Big" took an early lead after Z hit a first inning grand slam off of Canadian newcomer Rick Wardon8 that brought in Fontegna and the "ghost runners" on second and third. After that, Wardon settled into a strong series of shutout innings before getting pulled in the seventh.9
Meanwhile, Zapato was pitching like a man possessed. He struck out the first 19 batters, despite the fact that he was clearly just aiming his pitches at Fontegna's (admittedly shaking) glove. Then, in the seventh, leadoff man Sorialdo got the first ball into play. It was a line drive comebacker that Z fielded barehanded.
For a lark, Z pitched lefthanded to the next two Grizzlies (Ryne "Ryngo" Therroyo and Derrick Li), striking The Royo out on 5 pitches and beating out a grounder to first by Li. The fact that Pancho only beat Li by a step apparently scared Ginormous Z enough that he switched back to righthanded pitching and gunned down his rival captain in three pitches.
A scoreless and batterless eighth followed, though it was not without heroics as left fielder Rook Jackson (replacing Alonso Sorialdo, who had to rush to a board meeting) made a spectacular diving catch headlong into the Pink Monster. He got up and finished the game, though at the time of my writing it is unclear whether the speech centers of his brain will ever recover from the impact.
Zapata and Fontegna failed to score in the ninth (as Woodrow Kerrigan was playing at his regular postseason levels), stranding a ghost on third and Zapata at first on a groundout. In the ninth inning, the rest of the Grizz turned on the heat. Number 8 hitter, Kotsay Thundudome got the first hit the game for his side (and ended his 4 game mini-slump - the longest of the season), a triple scorching down the right field line.9 Pinch hitter Darlyle "Big Possum" Wadd advanced to first after the inexperienced Fontegna dropped strike three - Thundudome would have scored then but, as he stated in the postgame interview, Pancho Zapata stared at him with such rage that he feared for both "his life and the lives of his ancestors" if he left third. It is unsure what this actually means, but Kotsay looked pretty rattled.
Of course, none of this mattered as the now-functionally-retarded Rook Jackson belted a homerun over the very same Pink Monster that had taken a sizable chunk of his prefrontal cortex in the previous inning. Z fumed, Fontegna quaked, and The Royo stuck out on a close fastball on a full count (that umpire Piven originally called a ball until Z stared him down). Derrick Li then hit a combacker at Zapata that might have been an out had the Golden Bull not attempted to field it in his teeth.
The richocheted ball landed in the "visitors" dugout and was ruled a ground rule double by a visibly quivering Piven. This set the stage for the at-bat to end all at-bats: Pancho Zapata vs. Ramis Rodriguez. I would love to give a play-by-play for this AB, but at that exact moment my table number was called at Shennanny North, and I missed the first 8 pitches getting seated. By the time I could locate a jumbotron, it was a full count. And it stayed that way for 37 straight foul pitches. I was already finished with my Tater Nachos before El Hombre Gigantico hung a slider right in Rodriguez's zone. He grooved it all the way to where the old "Eamus Catuli" sign used to be (now a jumbotron devoted to Designing Women reruns)!10 The crowd erupted, half of them hanging up their cellphones to applaud, the other half calling friends to see if they got on TV.
It was a madhouse! With just one game down, this series is already interesting. While the underdog Zapata squad lost, it was a nailbiter, and I think any of the local media calling for a sweep are premature.
I for one, am just glad that the Grizz aren't letting a little thing like not making it to the postseason end their season.
Here's hoping everyone tunes in for game 2, and whether you're rooting for squad A or Squad B - Go Grizz!
- An event that annoyed me so much I could hardly even enjoy watching Boise get leveled by the Tampa Bay Devils (wise move to drop Ray from their name, as it was clearly cursing them).
- The recent crash has hardly affected Lonzie's bottom line at all - alert as always, Sorialdo had closed a crafty series of deals days before anyone else was aware of the cracks in the market. In fact, his net worth rose considerably in the first few unstable days. Some economists think his personal pledge of 800 billion to bail out the banking industry is the only thing keeping consumer confidence from plummeting.
- Who, strictly speaking, just played Rounders.
- Hot pink, of course.5
- I did remove the IV stent. I'm not a freak.
- Sadly (as was told later by a friend who works in the Michael Kors boutique on the Pad's Mezzanine level - a favorite haunt of fashion conscious owner "Smilin" Sam Zeeck), this is still not within the realms of current medical science.
- In the absence of "Skip" Essian, these captains would act as managers as well.
- It's been said before, but it bears repeating: the man deserves some respect for surviving the rather harsh hazing that all players receive that arrive in Chicago from the AL (or as the Grizz nicknamed it after their starting lineup won the all-star game for the fifth straight year, "the Sissy Circuit"). Few players can throw a shutout after having the pinky on their non-throwing hand broken (if the player cries, it's back to the minors - club tradition) - but the "Shawshank Redeemer" is as hard as they come.
- I found out in today's paper that Ramis Rodriguez, as acting manager, pulled him because setup man Carlo Marmot wanted to try a "really, really neat idea for a new trick pitch." This later turned out to be just a four finger fastball, only really, really fast.
- To be honest, it probably wouldn't have been more than a single, but without any fielders behind him, Z had a devil of a time getting it to Fontegna at third.
- Reputedly a favorite diversion of longtime Grizzly legend Grant Madison during his off days.
Friday, October 10, 2008
The Grizz Fans
Here it is, Friday again and in the bleachers. This no job thing is turning out pretty well, i have to say. I'm not drunk this time, as things are getting a little tight with money right now, but hey, i'll figure something out. i can always ask mom and dad for some spare cash, you know?
Today i'd like to talk about the best fans in the world, the Grizz fans. Now some of you may some things like, "beariot, i thought saint louis had the best fans in the world?" my response to you is a kick to the face for even mentioning that terrible town. seriously, like, worst city ever. i hear that there's a mandatory no popped collar policy there. What is that, brah? that's weak, brah. And some of you may say something like "boston has some good fans, too, beariot." to which i say to you, "yeah, some of them could be nice. but i have no problem with minorities, and they do."
now some people will certainly try to tell you something like "the grizz have the worst fans in the world and i rejoice in their eternal suffering and delicious tears. mmm, their delicious tears of sadness and depression and inevitable failure, sooooooooo tasty!" to which i say, yeah, well, the idaho ozzie guillens got booted out of the playoffs by the tampa bay ray romanos. the important point is that no matter how many people tell you the grizz have bad fans, you need to go to the ballpark and be the best grizz fan you can be!
some tips for you non-daily attenders of grizz games:
1) first, make sure to shout at anyone not wearing pink. and if theyre not in a popped collar shirt, shout louder at them for corrupting the ballpark.
2) then, make sure that you buy lots and lots of beer and then proceed to call all your friends and tell them, "hey, im at the grizz game! im awesome! here, let me wave to you on tv! whats the score? i have no idea, i just enjoy being here in the park and the atmosphere!"
3) finally, make sure to fist bump and kiss any other grizz fan who wants to, as thats the best way to show that youre truly a Grizz fan.
and it doesnt matter what the score is, cause remember, the Grizz are such a great team that they always win in our hearts. Fist pound for the Grizz, anybody?
Today i'd like to talk about the best fans in the world, the Grizz fans. Now some of you may some things like, "beariot, i thought saint louis had the best fans in the world?" my response to you is a kick to the face for even mentioning that terrible town. seriously, like, worst city ever. i hear that there's a mandatory no popped collar policy there. What is that, brah? that's weak, brah. And some of you may say something like "boston has some good fans, too, beariot." to which i say to you, "yeah, some of them could be nice. but i have no problem with minorities, and they do."
now some people will certainly try to tell you something like "the grizz have the worst fans in the world and i rejoice in their eternal suffering and delicious tears. mmm, their delicious tears of sadness and depression and inevitable failure, sooooooooo tasty!" to which i say, yeah, well, the idaho ozzie guillens got booted out of the playoffs by the tampa bay ray romanos. the important point is that no matter how many people tell you the grizz have bad fans, you need to go to the ballpark and be the best grizz fan you can be!
some tips for you non-daily attenders of grizz games:
1) first, make sure to shout at anyone not wearing pink. and if theyre not in a popped collar shirt, shout louder at them for corrupting the ballpark.
2) then, make sure that you buy lots and lots of beer and then proceed to call all your friends and tell them, "hey, im at the grizz game! im awesome! here, let me wave to you on tv! whats the score? i have no idea, i just enjoy being here in the park and the atmosphere!"
3) finally, make sure to fist bump and kiss any other grizz fan who wants to, as thats the best way to show that youre truly a Grizz fan.
and it doesnt matter what the score is, cause remember, the Grizz are such a great team that they always win in our hearts. Fist pound for the Grizz, anybody?
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
GRIZZ Season Preview!
Well, the pre-season is FINALLY here after a long summer of waiting patiently. And it couldn't get here SOON ENOUGH FOR ME!
I just about went out of my mind. My brother said that I was sure annoying with all my pestering questions about how he thought the season was going to turn out (he thinks they won't make it past the first round of the playoffs, by the way). I told him the same thing I told you guys last year about this time. Talking about the GRIZZ with my online friends is all well and good, but sometimes I like to hear my brother talk about them to me in person and I like someone else to hear me talk, too.
I hope you guys don't take offense to that. You should know how much I cherish our online time together. Better friends, I've never had and I can't wait until we ALL have webchat capabilities! Technology is truly an amazing invention!
The GRIZZ won their first pre-season game against the Rockets. Well...they should've. They came up just short at the end. Every single one of the players played their hardest and that's all that we as GRIZZ fans can ask of them. After all, would you rather have a pre-season win or a regular season win? HA, trick question! They all count the same of course when you think about it.
It's all about satisfaction of playing the game the right way. It reminds me of a famous quote that I recall:
The pure joy of victory can encompass even the mightiest of hearts and make it grow with strength, power, and beauty which makes man (or woman) feel great joy and they can know that they did their best and the consequences of the game showed as much.
I forget who said that, but I will never forget what was said.
I like the GRIZZ chances this year!
GO GRIZZ!!!!!!!!!!!
I just about went out of my mind. My brother said that I was sure annoying with all my pestering questions about how he thought the season was going to turn out (he thinks they won't make it past the first round of the playoffs, by the way). I told him the same thing I told you guys last year about this time. Talking about the GRIZZ with my online friends is all well and good, but sometimes I like to hear my brother talk about them to me in person and I like someone else to hear me talk, too.
I hope you guys don't take offense to that. You should know how much I cherish our online time together. Better friends, I've never had and I can't wait until we ALL have webchat capabilities! Technology is truly an amazing invention!
The GRIZZ won their first pre-season game against the Rockets. Well...they should've. They came up just short at the end. Every single one of the players played their hardest and that's all that we as GRIZZ fans can ask of them. After all, would you rather have a pre-season win or a regular season win? HA, trick question! They all count the same of course when you think about it.
It's all about satisfaction of playing the game the right way. It reminds me of a famous quote that I recall:
The pure joy of victory can encompass even the mightiest of hearts and make it grow with strength, power, and beauty which makes man (or woman) feel great joy and they can know that they did their best and the consequences of the game showed as much.
I forget who said that, but I will never forget what was said.
I like the GRIZZ chances this year!
GO GRIZZ!!!!!!!!!!!
Friday, October 3, 2008
My Friday
So, i kinda got hammered in the stadium bleachers today. And for some reason, everyone else there seemed to be making a lot of sense to me. I'm going to reprint a lot of their conversations here and hopefully they make you feel as good as i do. i know, its a scary thought, the Grizz having lost two games in a row for the first time in what feels like forever. I mean, Mark Derosa only hit one homer in those games! wow! but like i said, what i heard in those bleachers made me feel better. The first thing i heard was by this man named George. He said the following to me:
I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a game by dying for his team. He won it by making the other poor, dumb bastard die for his team. Men, all this stuff you've heard about the Grizz not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the war is a lot of horse shit. The Grizz, traditionally, love to fight. All real Americans love the sting of battle. When you were kids you all admired Ernie Banks. Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Americans play to win all the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why the Grizz have never lost and will never lose a series, because the very thought of losing is hateful to Americans. Now, Grizz Nation is a team. It lives, eats, sleeps, fights as a team. This individuality stuff is a bunch of crap. The bilious bastards who wrote that stuff about individuality for the ESPN don't know anything more about real baseball than they do about fornicating. Now, we have the finest food, equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world. You know, by God I, I actually pity those poor bastards we're going up against, by God, I do. We're not just going to shoot the bastards; we're going to cut out their living guts and use them to grease our bats. We're going to murder those lousy LA bastards by the bushel. Now, some of you boys, I know, are wondering whether or not you'll chicken out under fire. Don't worry about it. I can assure you that you will all do your duty. They are the enemy. Wade into them. Spill their blood. Shoot them in the belly. When you put your hand into a bunch of goo that a moment before was your best friend's face, you'll know what to do. Now there's another thing I want you to remember: I don't want to get any messages saying that we are holding our position. We're not holding anything. Let them do that. We are advancing constantly and we're not interested in holding onto anything except the enemy. We're going to hold onto him by the nose and we're going to kick him in the ass. We're going to kick the hell out of him all the time and we're going to go through him like crap through a goose. Now, there's one thing that you men will be able to say when you get back home. And you may thank God for it. Thirty years from now when you’re sitting around your fireside with your grandson on your knee, and he asks you: "What did you do in the great Grizz struggle of 08?" You won't have to say, "Well, I shoveled shit in Louisiana." Alright, now you sons-of-bitches, you know how I feel. Oh... I will be proud to lead you wonderful guys into battle anytime, anywhere.
His name might have been George. Or Lee, even. There's a very good chance that Lou might have said that to me, like i said i was drunk. The next man's speech drove the crowd in the stands into a frenzy the likes of which i havent seen since 2 for 1 night at the Man Hole bar.
Over? Did you say "over"? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no! And it ain't over now. 'Cause when the goin' gets tough...the tough get goin'! Who's with me? What the fuck happened to the Grizz I used to know? Where's the spirit? Where's the guts, huh? This could be the greatest night of our lives, but you're gonna let it be the worst! "Ooh, we're afraid to go with you Bluto, we might get in trouble." Well, just kiss my ass from now on! Not me! I'm not gonna take this! Manny, he's a dead man! Ethier, dead! Loney-
And the crowd as one yelled "Dead!" I think it may have helped that the next man to take the lead in igniting the crowd was an old man named Han. He seemed very wise in his simple statement:
Let him have the ball. It's not wise to upset a Grizzlie. A Dodger don't pull people's arms out of their sockets when they lose. Lilly's been known to do that.
The next man was in fact even older. But his statements had a ring to them of a man who knew what things were like as a Grizzlie. He seemed to come from a time before, when the Grizzlies were still known as the Cubs, and they had two teams in Chicago! Two!
You wanna get Torre? Here's how you get him. He pulls a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the bench, you send one of his to the morgue! That's the Chicago way, and that's how you get Torre!
But i think things were summed up best by the last man i can remember speaking before i passed out in the stands.
Good morning. In less than a day, Grizzlies from here will join others from around the world, and you will be launching the largest battle in the history of Grizzkind. Grizzkind. That word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. Perhaps it's fate that tomorrow is the Fourth of October, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom… Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution… but from annihilation. We're fighting for our right to live. To exist. And should we win the day, the Fourth of October will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day when the Grizz declared in one voice: We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Chicago Grizzlies!
I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a game by dying for his team. He won it by making the other poor, dumb bastard die for his team. Men, all this stuff you've heard about the Grizz not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the war is a lot of horse shit. The Grizz, traditionally, love to fight. All real Americans love the sting of battle. When you were kids you all admired Ernie Banks. Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Americans play to win all the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why the Grizz have never lost and will never lose a series, because the very thought of losing is hateful to Americans. Now, Grizz Nation is a team. It lives, eats, sleeps, fights as a team. This individuality stuff is a bunch of crap. The bilious bastards who wrote that stuff about individuality for the ESPN don't know anything more about real baseball than they do about fornicating. Now, we have the finest food, equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world. You know, by God I, I actually pity those poor bastards we're going up against, by God, I do. We're not just going to shoot the bastards; we're going to cut out their living guts and use them to grease our bats. We're going to murder those lousy LA bastards by the bushel. Now, some of you boys, I know, are wondering whether or not you'll chicken out under fire. Don't worry about it. I can assure you that you will all do your duty. They are the enemy. Wade into them. Spill their blood. Shoot them in the belly. When you put your hand into a bunch of goo that a moment before was your best friend's face, you'll know what to do. Now there's another thing I want you to remember: I don't want to get any messages saying that we are holding our position. We're not holding anything. Let them do that. We are advancing constantly and we're not interested in holding onto anything except the enemy. We're going to hold onto him by the nose and we're going to kick him in the ass. We're going to kick the hell out of him all the time and we're going to go through him like crap through a goose. Now, there's one thing that you men will be able to say when you get back home. And you may thank God for it. Thirty years from now when you’re sitting around your fireside with your grandson on your knee, and he asks you: "What did you do in the great Grizz struggle of 08?" You won't have to say, "Well, I shoveled shit in Louisiana." Alright, now you sons-of-bitches, you know how I feel. Oh... I will be proud to lead you wonderful guys into battle anytime, anywhere.
His name might have been George. Or Lee, even. There's a very good chance that Lou might have said that to me, like i said i was drunk. The next man's speech drove the crowd in the stands into a frenzy the likes of which i havent seen since 2 for 1 night at the Man Hole bar.
Over? Did you say "over"? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no! And it ain't over now. 'Cause when the goin' gets tough...the tough get goin'! Who's with me? What the fuck happened to the Grizz I used to know? Where's the spirit? Where's the guts, huh? This could be the greatest night of our lives, but you're gonna let it be the worst! "Ooh, we're afraid to go with you Bluto, we might get in trouble." Well, just kiss my ass from now on! Not me! I'm not gonna take this! Manny, he's a dead man! Ethier, dead! Loney-
And the crowd as one yelled "Dead!" I think it may have helped that the next man to take the lead in igniting the crowd was an old man named Han. He seemed very wise in his simple statement:
Let him have the ball. It's not wise to upset a Grizzlie. A Dodger don't pull people's arms out of their sockets when they lose. Lilly's been known to do that.
The next man was in fact even older. But his statements had a ring to them of a man who knew what things were like as a Grizzlie. He seemed to come from a time before, when the Grizzlies were still known as the Cubs, and they had two teams in Chicago! Two!
You wanna get Torre? Here's how you get him. He pulls a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the bench, you send one of his to the morgue! That's the Chicago way, and that's how you get Torre!
But i think things were summed up best by the last man i can remember speaking before i passed out in the stands.
Good morning. In less than a day, Grizzlies from here will join others from around the world, and you will be launching the largest battle in the history of Grizzkind. Grizzkind. That word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. Perhaps it's fate that tomorrow is the Fourth of October, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom… Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution… but from annihilation. We're fighting for our right to live. To exist. And should we win the day, the Fourth of October will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day when the Grizz declared in one voice: We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Chicago Grizzlies!
in the works
i got something big planned, but i have a crapton of work to do here at the stadium. its not like i have a job or anything, i just feel that i need to stand in the bleachers and soak up the atmosphere. check back either tonight or most likely as soon as you get up tomorrow morning. ill be done standing around by then.
-The Bear
-The Bear
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