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While discussing his new book Imperfect: An Improbable Life on ESPN Radio's The Herd Wednesday morning, Jim Abbott reflected on one of his greatest professional achievements: pitching a no-hitter at Yankee Stadium against the Cleveland Indians in 1993.
Think about that for a second.
Jim Abbott pitched a no-hitter with one hand. A no-hitter. With one hand.
Shit, the only thing I can do using one hand with any proficiency is masturbate. And I still need some help in the form of Warm Vanilla Sugar to get the job done. But a man who can't do push-ups , play patty-cake, or applaud his own efforts pitched a no-hitter.
Improbable indeed.
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Quick Thinking
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-- Despite their post All-Star break improvements, the Celtics have no shot at winning a championship this year.
-- No shot.
-- No.
-- Shot.
-- Same goes for this year's iteration of the Red Sox.
-- "I Call Bullshit!" Award of the Week goes to Baylor standout Brittney Griner for telling USA basketball officials she would not play in this summer's London Olympics citing "summer school course load" and some sort of "family illness."
-- Would have been more believable if she said she had to wash her hair.
-- Has to make you wonder why an athlete would forgo a chance to represent her country and build a brand for future endorsement deals because she needs to "go to class."
-- Can't have anything to do with those pesky blood & urine tests Olympic athletes are subject to, can it?
-- Or the fact that she would probably have to take the later standing up.
-- Speaking of which, melting urinal cakes seems more like an Olympic sport than curling.
-- Just saying.
-- Memo to the Producers of the Recently Announced Entourage Movie: The easiest way to guarantee the movie's success is by paying Sloan whatever it takes to get nude on camera.
-- Having her character make a bad decision by showing some skin can't be that tough of a sell, right?
-- I mean, c'mon, it's not like we're asking her to marry "E."
-- Oh, wait...
-- Watching America's Game: The Patriots on NFL Network served as a great reminder of when Brady used to deliver in the 4th Quarter of big games. Remember the last time that happened?
-- Ya, me neither.
A very famous writer once said the best way to overcome writer's block is by "writing something embarrassingly honest."
Sounds a little nonsensical to me. But, then again, it may be sage advice. (Plus, at this point, I'm willing to try anything that will help me rediscover my muse.) Ok, so here goes. One embarrassing truth coming up.
Drum roll, please.
Sometimes I sit down to pee.
That's right. I said it. (Well, wrote it.)
I hope it works.
ONE: Geometry is in my blood.
I shit a sphere yesterday.
Yup, you read that correctly. I shit a sphere.
The incident began harmless enough. Having the urge to poop I journeyed to the nearest bathroom, like any of you would have done, so I could get my deuce dance on. (I know, I know. I've said "shit a sphere" and "deuce dance" in the same blog. But stay with me.)
The pain and effort wasn't that big of a surprise, really. I'm used to it because of my habitual lack of fluid consumption.
Dehydration and all.
What was a surprise, however, was the excessive blood on my wet wipe. (Yes, I still use wet wipes.) And, upon further examination of the cause, I came face-to-face with a bigger than baseball-sized turd floating in the toilet.
Thank god it wasn't bigger than softball-sized.
The cause will always be a mystery, I suppose. Perhaps I'm literally internalizing all the recent discussion surrounding my son beginning his early education. After all, geometry is a cornerstone of the Montessori world. Or maybe geometry is just in the genes which, of course, would help explain why math was one of my stronger subjects in school.
Who knows.
I'll tell you what, though, I hope my colon's magical sphere-shaping skills are an aberration.
Because I sure as shit don't want to pass a rhombus or hexagon.
TWO: I'm getting old.
And, no, it's not because I'm shitting geometric shapes.
It's because my frame of reference for common, pop-culture based knowledge is dated. And I'm talking like someone-pegging-their-pant-legs dated.
See.
A female co-worker recently expressed some concern about a potential "stalker" in her life. And, knowing her kids have a total of 4 pet rabbits, I warned her she should heighten security around the house for, you know, the rabbits' sake.
And, instead of nods or giggles, my obvious Fatal Attraction reference was met with blank stares and confusion. It was also met by the following quote from another, much younger, co-worker: "Why? What's the creep gonna do, steal the rabbits to take away all her luck or something?"
Exactly right, young coworker-who-has-no-idea-what-fatal-attraction-is. Exactly right.
Looks like bingo night at the local YMCA just jumped to the top of my social calendar!
Dear Coach,
Here we are again, Bill. And by "here" I mean in the Super Bowl facing the New York Football Giants. In fact, the previous game's outcome on 2/3/2008 was the genesis for my splintered psyche creating a voice the world now knows as sports + thoughts. Ok, maybe not the world.
But a good half dozen people, anyway.
Listen, Bill, I'm not going to bore you with a sermon about how important this game is. It's evident. What I will do, however, is remind you of the gift you're receiving. That's right, Bill, a gift. The universe has given you a second chance to avenge a loss that transformed the promise of 19-0 and football immortality into an 18-1 asterisk accented punchline.
And no one in Patriot Nation was laughing.
Now I'm not saying a win on Sunday will change the past, Bill. It won't. (Unless you have a flux capacitor, of course.) I'm simply saying that -- if you can find a way to win this game -- you won't have to change the past.
Because you'll have effectively put it to rest.
Good luck.
Terrence Joyce
Spokesman, Patriot Nation
I'm not going to tell you I don't believe in football gods.
Because I do.
But to think one's faith can influence the outcome of a game or attributing a player's good fortune to a belief structure is simply irresponsible. Competitive sports are about talent, preparation, chance and effort. They're not about religious beliefs. Religion offers promise of reward for blind obedience to a particular ideology. Sports don't.
And neither do football gods.
What football gods do promise, however, is that no one team will ever be above the game itself. Just ask the 2007 "near miss perfection" New England Patriots.
[ SIDE NOTE: START ]
The football gods obviously fell asleep at the wheel back in '72. Maybe that was the cost for Neptune's pet Dolphin. Or maybe their warring brethren needed some help with that Vietnam disaster.
Who knows.
But that babbling buffoon Mercury Morris serves as a constant reminder of their greatest mistake anytime a team creeps towards perfection. And that's not a mistake they'll be repeating.
Ever.
[ SIDE NOTE: END ]
So when Tebow's star power began to transcend his sport the football gods had to react. They had no choice, really. Lucky for Patriot Nation, 2007's sacrificial lamb, judgment was levied in the form of a 45-10 beat down at Gillette Stadium.
Let's hope Terrell Suggs' arrogance is their next target.
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Quick Thinking
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-- How the book Moving the Chains: Tom Brady and the Pursuit of Everything stayed off my radar since 2006 makes me feel like an inadequate member of Patriot Nation.
-- Good thing I'm familiar with inadequate members.
-- Question of the Week asks why does Tebow throwing for 316 in a win against the Steelers prompt manifest connection to John 3:16, but throwing for 136 in a loss against the Patriots becomes negligible?
-- Probably because it ruins that whole #godwantstebowtowin narrative the media was pumping up.
-- For the believers out there, John 1:36 reads, "When he saw Jesus passing by, he said, 'Look, the Lamb of God!'"
-- Proving to be quite the complicated parable, isn't it?
-- Quote of the Week goes to Big Nick for texting me the following after New England dispatched Denver Saturday night, "Well, at least Tebow is a good Christian and will forgive the Pats for kicking the shit out of him."
-- Amen.
-- Californication has officially jumped the shark.
-- Yesterday was a big win for so many reasons. Not the least of which is helping remedy the fact I kinda forgot what it felt like to win a playoff game.
-- Not personally, of course.
-- Tony! Toni! Tone! sums it up nicely.
-- Yeahhhhh!
-- Thank god the 90's are over, huh?
-- Speaking of nostalgia, I'm gonna miss all that "one and done" playoff talk surrounding the Patriots.
-- After all, I had the same nickname in high school.
-- It was upgraded to "6 Seconds of Thunder" in college.
-- For those of you keeping score at home, I've graduated to "The Bolt" in my adult life.
-- Still can't get past his 9.58 second record, though.
ONE: Nosey people suck.
And I'm not talking about those friends, associates & colleagues who dip into a conversation to be "in on the joke" for a giggle. In fact, I encourage those types of folks to keep up the good work.
After all, laughing is the proverbial chicken soup for the soul.
What I am talking about are those who habitually ask, "What are you talking about?" not because they want to share in a few funny quips but, rather, because they need to feed their insecurities. Insecurites, by the way, that manifest for these folks because every time someone whispers in their pressence they feel they MUST be the topic of said whisper.
They are not secret. They are not safe.
Worse yet, even after they learn the conversation isn't "about" them, they're not relieved. They simply become MORE intrigued. And not for laughter's sake. They become more intrigued to soak up all the gossip and then run to the person or persons who were gossiped about to gossip about the original gossip which, in reality, probably wasn't gossip at all.
That's straight confusing, right? It's also the reason why these type of nosey people suck.
But don't tell them I said that.
TWO: I'm part of the 55 percent.
A recently released study found that over half the time an average Facebook user removes a friend -- 55 percent of the time, to be exact -- the reason is for "offensive comments and status updates."
It's must be the season of miracles because, based on that little tidbit, it's a wonder I have any facebook friends at all.
ONE: Every coworker in the world was the "best employee of all time" at their previous job.
True story.
It's easier to comprehend when you apply an essential doctrine of the Shawshank Principle called innocent guilt. You know, because all the inmates claimed to be innocent even though their asses were in jail?
Same rules apply to the work place.
Every coworker I've had, and every coworker you've ever had for that matter, will stop at nothing to tell tales of how "invaluable" and "innovative" they were in past positions. Some will go so far as to say they "essentially ran the company" despite holding 8 jobs over a 5 year span.
All CEOs in the making, I'm sure.
Try this little homework assignment if you're feeling skeptical about the veracity of my claim: head into work tomorrow, present the "So, what did you do before this?" question to a newer hire and see how their story measures up. Be warned, though. The bullshit will be flying fast. Real fast.
Faster than it flies in this blog, in fact.
But remember to try and stay your judgment for their egregious hyperbole.
After all, you're a coworker too.
TWO: Nintendo's Zelda contains all the relationship advice you'll ever need.
Who would have thought an 8-bit elf with a wooden sword and over-sized head would be my generation's Dr. Phil before Dr. Phil even existed? Certainly not me. Don't laugh, I'm serious.
Ocarina of Time Water Temple level serious, actually.
And it's not because Zelda's digital protagonist, Link, saves a damsel in distress by collecting pieces of a triangular shaped Triforce and harnesses its mythical power to save the world from darkness.
#euphemism
It's because he can't succeed in one level without the skills he learned and developed in the previous one. The relationship application is clear: As you progress through life looking for your Triforce, make sure lessons learned in former relationships -- personal and professional -- are applied to all others that follow.
The trick, of course, is discerning when to use each lesson. For example, don't use the hookshot when the ladder will suffice, don't send flowers when a simple note is needed and, whatever you do, don't use the Master Sword unless it's absolutely necessary.
One shan't be careless with such power, you know?
But when you reach a dead end and you know the relationship is a lost cause, stick to the basics by grabbing a bomb, lighting the fuse and blowing that shit up. You might even find a Heart Container or Magic Fairy in the rubble.
Boom.
