Creeping Inexorably Toward A Worthwhile Sub-Heading.
Friday, January 30, 2004
Stuff and Nonsense
I so completely lack anything of interest to write about that I actually started penning a piece that picked apart, bit by bit, a recent Phil Rogers column. Desperate times call for desperate measures, but resorting to a trick like that is akin to taking your sister to prom. Sure she looks the part, but it takes the scrubbing power of Comet and tubful of holy water to wash away that first slow dance.
So, you won’t see that post anytime soon. Not only was it no fun to write, but after I had completed about 70% of the thing, I realized it wouldn’t be any fun to read, either. It’s truly a masturbatory exercise, and it reeks of an ill-advised attempt to prove oneself as the Smart Kid. Obviously, there’s a level of narcissism involved in any sort of similar endeavor, the assumption being that I have something to say and a way of saying it that others will find worthy of their time. However, laying a mean-spirited smack-down on someone else’s work, no matter how deserving of opprobrium, is inviting the same demon to visit me one day, and I don’t like his looks or his smell.
I’m not implying that this sort of thing shouldn’t be done. A good example of the genre at its finest is Mike Carminati’s hilarious work with Joe Morgan’s ESPN chats. It can be done, and done well, just not by me.
Enough of my soul-searching, a few baseball notes.
Hold that Tiger - Detroit has been “on the verge” of signing Pudge-Rod since sometime in the late 15th century. It could come to pass at any moment now, but I’m starting to feel embarrassed for all parties involved. It’s like watching some gold-digging smooth operator working a room full of heiresses. He’s got the ugly one on the hook, but she’s just there to make the pretty ones jealous. He does whatever he wants with the hotties, because he knows that no one else will dance with Miss Congeniality, and he knows that she knows it, too. Her desperation, and his understanding of it make for a disgusting scene, but what does he care? Even if the beautiful girls all turn their backs, at least he’ll have an iron-clad pre-nup and a house in the Hamptons.
New Beginnings - Jon Lieber started throwing off a mound this week. I always liked him when he was a Cub, so I’m glad to see him coming back, even if it is with the Almond Joy-owned Yankees. He looks to be the wild-card in the back end of their rotation, and while I wouldn’t say they need him to perform at pre-surgery levels, they will need him to do a fair imitation of a right-handed David Wells to truly provide some ballast to a very front-loaded staff. Here’s hoping for some stellar performances with pathetic run support. I can’t root for the Yanks, but I can wish Jon-Jon well.
On a Roll - Finally, I don't normally link to other blogger's material. Not because their work isn't worthy, but because I figure anyone who has discovered this site has almost certainly run across anything I would point them to. After all, linking to a post on The Cub Reporter implies that you came to me first, and then were "inspired" by my "endorsement" to pay a visit to Christian, and that's just so ridiculous I can barely keep typing.
This is a special instance, though. Alex Ciepley's blog, Ball Talk, is always good, and if you're not reading it regularly (again, as ridiculous an idea as the one stated above), you need to start. However, while Alex’s work is always exemplary, it’s been especially so this week. Sometimes hilarious, sometimes thought provoking, and sometimes just plain charming, he’s writing stuff lately I only wish I could. If you haven’t checked him out, do it. If you already have, do it again. It’s worth the click.