Filling the Void … 6/14/04

A Jackass With Direction

"This is the walking across the room like you own it, sweeping a bombshell off her feet and leading her wherever the mood takes you life. This is the Chivas life."

Sometimes you just stumble upon brilliance. It just falls in your lap. Like when I read the above ad in a recent Fortune magazine. Does it get any better than that? The ad was so brilliantly funny / stupid that I tore it out and have it hanging on my wall at work. I laugh out loud every time I read it. What the hell is Chivas talking about? Is that the Chivas life? Really? Do people actually drink Chivas? I don't know anyone who drinks that crap. Actually I shouldn't call it crap because I've never had it before. It might be f'ing delicious. I do have a buddy that slings it down in Miami, but I think that he slings Cheevaas, not Chivas. The kids down in Miami love that poison apparently, but not nearly as much as the Yac or the Henny. And I can understand that. The Yac is so hot right now. And what's hot is hot.

Sometimes brilliance just smacks you in the face when you aren't looking…

"Don't get me wrong. I'm all for titillation and nudity and all that sort of thing. It's just when they talk, I want to vomit."

The context of this quote is really irrelevant because its brilliance transcends the context in which it was spoken. But to be fair to my 7 readers, I will divulge the framework of this conversation. I muttered something about wishing that Temptation Island got back on the air. Then I asked the Colonel his feeling on "the Island." And then he hit me with the above statement. Priceless.

Sometimes you create brilliance and don't realize its brilliance until you've stepped back and taken a peek…

(The following conversation actually occurred.)

My brother: "Any horse that has an X in its name is awesome."
Me: "Why?"
My brother: "I don't know. I just like horses that have names with an X in it. They're cool."
Me: "Well then I have the greatest horse name ever for you. X-R-A-P, pronounced crap."
My brother: "Crap spelled with an X? That is brilliant."
Me: "Thank you, I know."

(Should I be taking medicine? Quite obviously, but that's not worth worrying about right now.)

And sometimes brilliance is handed to you in the subtlest way possible. I was sitting at my desk enduring the longest day in history when the Colonel asked me a simple question…

"Is your son, Xavier Lee, coming to FSU this year or next?"

Excuse me? Are we talking about the oblong ball? Indeed. A question to give a brother direction. In the midst of a June swoon, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I can already smell the insanity in Miami as the tension of 'Noles / 'Canes builds on Labor Day evening. I can hear "Rock you like a Hurricane" sung in German-flavored English by the Scorpions over the loud speakers. I can see the FSU end of the Orange Bowl tomahawk-chopping like mad. I can see Sebastian the Ibis spelling out C-A-N-E-S in front of the rabid 'Canes student section. I can see Chief Osceola sitting on Renegade trotting up and down the 'Noles sidelines with his fiery spear in hand. I can taste tall Budweisers going down easy in the South Florida sun. I can sense the reverence of the crowd as the National Anthem is belted out. I can hear the crowd's roar as F-15s fly overhead giving everyone in the joint goosebumps. And I can see the players lined up for the kick, yapping at each other, as every heart in the place pounds waiting for the season to start, and the best rivalry in the game to begin. Yep, I can see/feel all of that. And I can't wait. (In case you couldn't tell.)

In fact I don't think I can wait for that game to get my fix. I think I'm going to have to roll down to the District to FedEx Field on August 28th in the 375-degree sun to watch the Trojans battle the Hokies. That's right. The Kickoff Classic comes to the District this year and has defending co-national champ, USC, squaring off against Marcus Vick's Hokies. Talk about a beautiful thing. I have to be there. Obviously.

Finally I am no longer wandering the sports desert looking for an oasis where the beer flows like wine. Thanks to the Colonel's brilliance, I've got it. F writing about baseball. I can't do it, unless I start going to tons of Birds games and relate some of the insanity of the Yard. That might happen. But until it does, or doesn't, my focus is on the Kickoff Classic which is 74 days away. Oh dear. 74 friggin' days. Not good. But manageable. Definitely. So start looking for a "weekly college football blotter" discussing tough topics like "why Philip Fulmer's ass resembles his face," "why FSU has as much gold on their teeth as was found in King Tut's tomb" and "why female kickers aren't Gary Barnett's thing." You know…the important stuff.

Woooo-wee.

I headed into the past weekend with Omaha on my mind. Vanderbilt was 2 wins away from going to their first College World Series ever. Granted they were 2 wins against #1 Texas in Austin away from going to Omaha, but I was thinking positively. Will anyone be meeting me in Omaha? No. Why? Because I wont be there. My Dores got pummeled by the Longhorns in the most lop-sided Super Regional ever. Texas outscored Vanderbilt 25-5 in 2 games. Yea, that's not good. But, hey, at least the kids were playing. Sweet 16 ain't bad at all. And yes, once I wrote about Vandy, they lost. Idiot. Some quick observations…

• Vandy's white uniforms are gorgeous. The Cardinals-style bat on the front is outstanding.
• What the hell is the University of Texas doing with a fake baseball field? How is that possible? Considering Texas is going to the CWS for the 31st time (a record), one would think that UT could afford to pay for some grass, some sprinklers and a maintenance crew to deal with the hot Texas sun. Right? Asinine.
• Is it cool or stupid that the Long Beach State baseball team changed their name to "Dirtbags" from "49ers"? The rest of the University's teams are still called the 49ers. Not the baseball team. Dumb or brilliant? My gut says f'ing stupid.
• SEC baseball is hardcore. 9 teams in the NCAA Tournament. 6 in the Sweet 16. And now 4 in the 8 of the College World Series. Tall-boy respect.

Kiss of death story of the last week (other than Vanderbilt). I went to the O's game last Thursday. The mighty D-backs were in town. In other words, a wang dang doodle of a game. Excitement galore. So exciting that I got there in the 4th inning. And sat in the centerfield bleachers. (Greatest seats ever.) Within 30 minutes of being there, it started to drizzle. I was supposed to meet my brother at the game but he was up in the upper deck. So I called him to tell him that I wasn't going to climb all the way up to his seats in the damn rain. He understood my dilemma and educated me to the fact that Daniel Cabrera (O's young pitcher) had thrown a perfect game thru 5 innings. Wow. And my luck would have it that it was the start of the top of the 6th. Perfect game? Awesome. So what happens? Just like Smarty Jones, Cabrera realized that I was in the vicinity. He walked the first batter of the inning. No more perfect game. But at least he had his no-hitter intact. Yea, intact for another 2 minutes. The next batter, Steve Finley, hit a ball over the right field fence onto Eutaw St. Rad. I'm #1. I left the game after the O's failed to score in the bottom of the 6th. It's a good thing I went to the Yard and ruined Danny Cabrera's life. I guess that's what happens when you are the Kiss of Death.

I think I've become a baseball nihilist. In fact, start calling me the Uli Kunkel of baseball. And no I won't mind if you help dry Bunny Lebowski's toenail polish. Not at all. I'm bored. August 28th can't get here soon enough.

At least we have the U.S. Open this weekend. Right?