Soiled Pinstripes

Another week, another complaint about A-Rod. Shocking, isn’t it?

I wasn’t going to write anything about his little league-esque incident last night...the one involving him and the Jays rookie third baseman Howie Clark...but listening to Colin Cowherd on ESPN radio at lunch today got me fired up.

The ‘incident’ as I’ve called it went like this: Last night, A-Rod was running between second and third on a routine popup on the infield and as he ran by Clark at third, he allegedly yelled "Mine!", causing Clark to back away due to him thinking it was shortstop John MacDonald calling him off; thus, the ball fell to the ground without being caught. Clark says Rodriguez yelled "Mine!", Rodriguez says he yelled "Ha!", whatever. Jays’ manager John Gibbons called the play "bush league" and many of the Jays had something similar to say about it.

Cowherd is calling the Jays and everyone else who is upset about this a whiner or a pansy. Not surprising if you’ve ever listened to this buffoon’s radio show on ESPN, but troublesome all the more. I guess Cowherd has a point when he says that A-Rod isn’t cheating per se, nor is he trying to deliberately hurt anyone. He also mentioned that if players can slide into second basemen and shortstops to break up would-be double plays, this incident shouldn’t be looked at any differently. Interesting that he should bring this up, considering A-Rod takes that part of the game to a lowly level as well, per the incident with Pedroia from a couple weeks back. I suppose it’s not illegal from a rulebook point of view. It’s just a classless, cowardly move from a player who, as I’ve stated over and over, is one of the greatest of all time. It’s a shame and it’s an embarrassment to the New York Yankees and that city who loves that team so much. It’s an absolute embarrassment.

It just goes back to my previous post about how A-Rod plays the game. He plays like someone who has no respect for the team surrounding him, the team opposing him, the rest of the league or the fans who love the game so much, like me and you. There’s a reason why people in baseball right now are calling this latest move a ‘bush league’ play, or a childish play. These things happen in little league games, in t-ball games. After such events, a coach usually berates his player and makes him aware that this is not how the game is played and it probably never happens again. In this case, no one really berates A-Rod from his own team I’m assuming and he ends up saying he yelled "Ha" instead. I don’t see how that’s any better. It almost makes him seem more childish.

It’s reasons like this that the Yankees are still faltering in the cellar of the AL East. It’s becoming increasingly clear that A-Rod is more and more of a disease in that clubhouse day in and day out. I wouldn’t want to play with him and I’m sure as hell that guys like Jeter, Damon, Pettitte, Mientkiewicz and Posada--who play the game with respect and good character--don’t want to go out there with him everyday, either. Cowherd made a point today that we, Red Sox fans, shouldn’t whine because two years ago we were dying to get him here in Boston. I wasn’t, but surely some of us were and why not? What we were grasping for was the right to see one of the greatest in the game play at Fenway and for the Sox. What we don’t want and never will want is a guy who makes a mockery of the game like Rodriguez. He hadn’t shown this type of behavior until he got to New York and I suppose this is the culmination and manifestation of too much pressure and scrutiny. He may be nearly worth what they’re paying him in New York from a talent standpoint. But looking at this from the value of character, Alex Rodriguez is worthless.

L.A. a la French

I just got back from LA and I've decided to write a very bare-bones 'French's Guide to Los Angeles' so that any of you can take advantage of some of the things that I have been able to over the course of my last two visits. Before I begin, let me point out yet again that it is a HORRIBLE idea to work after taking a red-eye from anywhere. HORRIBLE.

For the first time on two visits, La and I took the walk down the boardwalk past Muscle Beach and let me say that it's no different that Coney Island or the Salem Willows as far as cheesy, greasy fun. We got some very average soft serve from, of all things, a sushi place...I guess Asians out there are not familiar with the 'swirl' cone...it's a mix cone...there's fried dough a-plenty, corny t-shirts on every corner and, oh yeah, a gym in the middle of the beach with some of the world's biggest muscle heads. Hmm...sounds a little like Route One in Saugus on a summer day, doesn't it? It's not that impressive, trust me. You're better off walking the beaches of Malibu and eating at some of the beach-bound cafes like Paradise Cove. Less muscles (more mussels), less cheesiness and more natural scenery.

Eating can be a real challenge out there, as it can be in any new city. From what I've sampled, I have found that the best food exists in the smaller, lesser-known places that you might not happen upon unless you know someone. I'd say avoid chains, unless it's Chipotle or In 'N' Out Burger. I had Chipotle for the first time yesterday and it's really good. Pretty cheap, fast and fresh. And yes, better than Qdoba. I think it was Schneweis who commented on the brash line workers at Chipotle, and he was right. Know what you're ordering before you enter their line because they'll stress you the fuck out if you let them. You've been warned. There is also a ton of great sushi out there, as you may have imagined. Much of it overpriced if you're used some Boston places...if you want a taste of LA sushi prices, go to Douzo in Boston. Otherwise, avoid some of the trendy places out there. A little place in Santa Monica called Noma is very good and affordable.

For bars, there's really only one place you'll ever want to go, especially if you're a sports fan from Boston. There's a place called Sonny McLean's (http://www.sonnymcleans.com/) in Santa Monica and I swear to you, it has the feel and look of something like a cross between the Fours and Sully's Tap. The menu is almost identical to that of the Fours and pretty much every seat in the bar is a prime location to watch the Sox. La and I arrived in LA on last Friday afternoon and proceeded right to Sonny's to watch the game and eat...it was my first game experience there but overall, my 2nd visit. It was so weird...everyone clapped when the Sox did something worth clapping about and not a soul in the place was not a Sox fan. I was really confused as to where I was, but I was thrilled to be there. You absolutely have to go if you're out that way at some point. Ask for Mike behind the bar...he's from Hingham.

I'm guessing that most East Coast folk prefer Dunkin' Donuts coffee since DD is an institution out this way. Out there, no DD. I know, I'm sorry to have to break that news. Out there, it's Coffee Bean. Personally, I wish we had them out here because the coffee drinks are much better and it's just a nice place to get all sorts of stuff. You'll find Starbucks adjacent to pretty much every Coffee Bean, but don't be swayed. Coffee Bean is better and I think a little cheaper. I recommend their ice-blended coffee drinks.

I think that's just about gonna have to do it for my Guide to LA. I'll have more material after my next visit in about 4 months. Onto the thoughts of the day so far:

Sometimes I wonder how people would feel about me here at work if I said what I was thinking at all times. Tom, this excludes you because you might very well be the only one here who actually knows what I am thinking most of the time because you read this. Either way, I'm sure you can relate.

Just a few minutes ago, I was entering the cafeteria to get a drink and I held the door for a guy who was exiting as I was coming in. I held it for a good 10 seconds, as he wasn't quite at the door when I walked in. Regardless, this asshole walks up to the double doors and proceeds to use the OTHER door; or, the one that I wasn't holding. As he walked through, I bit my tongue. What I wanted to say was not appropriate, so all I could muster was "yeah, that makes sense." He didn't flinch, which made me angrier. In hindsight, i should have gone with my instincts and thrown him up against the wall. "Listen, jabroni. If I hold the door for you, you say thank you and walk through it. Got me?" He probably would have knifed me, though. IT guys are tapped.

I got a call from customer service not long ago that made no sense. The woman on the other end made some sort of senseless remark about a phone call she had received and then told me to disregard her call. She ended by saying she was just a little hazy and apologized. Hey, here’s a tip. Stop getting high before work, genius. It just happens to be known that this particular lady is a stoner...a 60 year-old stoner...and she’s always in the clouds. I have a much more difficult time with her on my bad days because most of the time, she’s really nice and happy. Dumb as rocks, yes. But pleasant nonetheless.

I’ve commented on people from work a lot in the past and truthfully, I like many of the people I work with. It’s the job that sucks. I probably shouldn't be writing blogs as such on my workstation here, or giving the web address to this blog to my co-workers, but what am I going to do? What’s done is done. (non-sequitor) If I could somehow figure out a way to eliminate the bad starts to days, I’d probably be a lot better off. So much of my day is affected by those 25 minutes between waking up and walking out the door...like this morning, nothing went my way. I trimmed my sideburns with a Mach 3 (big mistake) and it took forever. My hair insisted upon leaving me looking like Beetle Bailey and it started raining on my walk to the car. I forgot my breakfast bar and noodles for lunch...the list goes on. You know, just having typed all that, I am realizing that I’m a little on the whiny side this morning and thus, pissing myself off. I’m done.

Regrets

Thanks to Richie for pointing out to me that David Ortiz will be 32 years old in November and, even if he's to average 50 HRs and 200 hits over the next 6 seasons, he'll be short of the 2500 hits and 550-600 homers that I have projected.

Nonetheless, I still maintain my belief that Ortiz will continue to run rampant over AL pitching over the course of the next however-many seasons and find himself a spot in the baseball Hall of Fame. Call it optimism, call it admiration and love for one of the game's greatest...but I believe he will belong in Cooperstown when all is said and done. It is scary to think, however, that a guy like Bert Blyleven didn't make the Hall with his 270 or so career wins as a pitcher. But many analysts are putting Smoltz in the Hall right now, so who knows what will happen with Ortiz.

That's all from here for a few days. I'm off to LA with La.

Papi's Plight?

From ESPN.com's Page 2 article on the future Heroes of baseball as they are today...the excerpt about David Ortiz is as follows (thanks to La for sending this):

DAVID ORTIZ, DH, BOSTON RED SOX

It's very unlikely he has enough time left to rack up Hall of Fame numbers. His big jump happened at age 27. The last four years have been tremendous, but he's due to drop off sooner rather than later, and his totals (240 home runs and 800 RBIs as we speak) seem a long way from plaque-worthy. And all I can think is: Who cares? Seriously, when the grandparents gather the little ones at their knees in the years to come, isn't Big Papi -- his wide smile shining and his high flourish follow-through flying -- the first guy they will recall from this era? Isn't he the one who sums up the joy and the drama and the power and the glory of the game they love? Isn't he the guy, more than any other, who makes them say, "Man, you shoulda seen him?"

Ok, I agree with the latter part of this rant, in that, I will surely be telling my grandchildren about the man, the myth, the legend: David Ortiz. I think this generation of Red Sox fans think this unanimously and how can you not. But I don't agree that his eventual drop off will be soon nor significant enough from a pure, offensive production standpoint to keep him from putting up Hall-like numbers. Here's why.

1. He hits in a lineup that features him and Manny Ramirez sitting right behind him at the cleanup slot. With men on base, no pitcher in baseball could possibly justify walking Ortiz to pitch to Manny. It's a catch-22 in its purest form. Not to mention the rest of the lineup that, offensively, is not that far behind the Yankee lineup on paper. I say on paper because this year, the Sox offense has outshined the Yanks'. But it's May and the Yankees will hit eventually (see last night and two nights ago). But again, if Ortiz is hitting for the Sox and Manny is too, he will continue to produce at a similar rate to that which we are now accustomed to and expecting. He's going to hit 40-50 home runs and knock in 110-140 every year that he's healthy. People are going to argue that Manny isn't the player he used to be, but I don't agree with that either. But that's another blog for another time (or one I've already written...see previous posts).

2. The Sox have shown the ability and willingness to spend the money on a supporting cast that is amongst the best in baseball every year. They are not going to skimp on free agent signings and will therefore keep this sort of potent lineup around Ortiz for years to come. And with a bunch of guys around who can hit .300 and get on base for him, Ortiz will undoubtedly keep producing.

3. Ortiz, while a massively impressive power guy, is a great hitter to boot. He's not the kind of guy that swings at junk and strikes out on a frequent basis. He's patient at the plate and doesn't have to drive it out of the park to knock in runs. He hits to all fields with power and has a great eye. Again, hugely important for being a consistent producer.

4. Maybe the most important one...let's not forget that we're talking about the greatest clutch hitter in the history of baseball, along with Reggie Jackson. Say what you will, but I would take Ortiz when it counts over anybody. He always gets it done when it matters; when it's do or die. He doesn't squander opportunities to be productive when the Sox need a run or two and by continuing to be this kind of player, he numbers will be going up for a while.

Barry Bonds is 40 years old or so and he's still an extremely dangerous hitter who, like Ortiz, hits for average and sees the ball better than most. Set aside the whole steroid clause for a minute. Ortiz and Bonds are similar in that kind of regard, in that, they're just great hitters and always will be. Five, ten and maybe fifteen years from now, Ortiz will be older and probably a little weaker but he will still be a great hitter and thus, still producing. Let's see, 240 HRs and 800 RBI...he's going to finish his career somewhere in the vicinity of 600 HRs, 2000 RBIs, 2500+ hits and around a .300 average. Being the kind of person/man that he is and what he has done the Red Sox organization, Ortiz fits the Hall of Fame mold. If he can manage an MVP or two along the way and another ring, I think his large head should fit nicely onto one of those plaques.

Piss-poor Sport and HUGE PANSY to Boot

I didn't want to do it. I fought every instinct and impulse I was having to write this post and I failed miserably. I just can't help it. Alex Rodriguez leaves me no choice in the matter.

If you haven't seen the replay of A-Rod elbowing the Red Sox second basemen - Dustin Pedroia - in last night's game, then I strongly advise you to go to Redsox.com and view the clip under the 'sights and sounds' section of the page. It will infuriate you.

What he did to Bronson Arroyo in 2004 was surely the biggest pansy move in all of sports, throughout the history of sport...not just baseball. Last night's antics were right up there if not worse. A second baseman turning to make a jump-throw to first in an attempt to turn a double play puts that man in an extremely vulnerable position. Yes, it's legal to slide under him and even take out his legs with your natural slide. What's not legal is sliding past the base and throwing your elbow at the player to disrupt the throw. It's bullshit, it's sickening and it's something that only a pansy like Alex Rodriguez would do. It makes me physically ill to watch this man play baseball. What really sucks is the fact that he is probably one of the top five greatest players to have ever played this game in terms of talent and production (or will be once all is said and done). But I can't call a man "great" who plays the game like A-Rod does. The two do not mesh and he doesn't deserve the recognition because of the way he plays.

There are dirty/rough players in every sport, like Bill Laimbeer, Jack Tatum and Chris Pronger. Laimbeer was a bastard but he played really hard and legally. Same with Tatum and Pronger who are labeled as dirty because of hits they administered in their careers. But that's different; those were rough and violent plays within rough and violent sports (football and hockey). It's the reason why Albert Haynesworth wasn't prosecuted for stepping on Andre Gurode's face in an NFL game this past season. Those sports will breed violence, always. Baseball is not a violent sport. It's a gentleman's game. It's your father's game, your grandfather's game, and so on. It's the sport all parents want their kids to play because it's "American" and it's clean and they probably won't get hurt. Unless, of course, they're playing against guys like A-Rod who not only play very dirty baseball...but they cheat. And they cheat badly.

Alas, there is solace to be taken in one simple fact: A-Rod will melt in the biggest of situations and ultimately be marked with that stigma for the rest of his pathetically outstanding career. He's caught in his own head when it comes to the clutch and there's no better justice in the game than that...a cheater who is better than almost everyone else who plays talent-wise, but he can't win the big one because he's stuck in his own mind. I find it ironic that in an era of baseball where steroids and synthetics of the like are marring the game and threatening the purity of baseball, I can't get past a guy who's just really competitive; a guy who's so competitive that he can't help but cheat. But steroids are cheating too, right? So why can't A-Rod be suspended for being a pansy?

Cinco de Hose-O

Ok, so what if Richie showed up in a Gerald Green jersey to our lottery selection BBQ last night. And who cares that the first words out of his mouth upon arrival were "Watch, they'll probably get the 5th pick because I'm wearing this jersey." (for those who don't know, Gerald is #5 for the C's) And what of it that I didn't change my universal password of celtics05 before last night's ping-pong ball parade. It didn't really have an effect on the Green picking up the (gulp) fifth pick in the upcoming draft...did it?

I think the best quote from last night came from Russell, who said "Dammit, I was really excited about becoming a C's fan, too." Well played. There's nothing good that will come out of this occurrence, except maybe the inevitable Bill Simmons rampage that will soon hit Page 2 on ESPN.com.

The manifestation of season-long frustration unfolded in horrific fashion when the Celtics logo was so painfully unveiled as having received a pick that no one in their right mind imagined being slotted for Boston. I thought going in, worst-case scenario, we get the third pick. Even the fourth seemed remarkably unlikely. I suppose Memphis fans are singing the same tune this morning, a tune of woe and disgrace. All I've heard on the radio thus far today is about the supposed justice that was served in the lottery because the Grizzlies and the C's both tried to lose games to ensure they had the most balls in the lottery. Whether or not that's true, it makes no difference to me. The Celtics franchise took another step backwards with this turn of events.

This year's NBA draft promises to be one of deep proportions, with several top-tier college players coming out. The truth is, no one has the foggiest idea about how deep it really is or will be. It's not even guaranteed that Oden and Durant will be superstars. What is guaranteed is that those two guys are marketable athletes that will bring people to Portland and Seattle, two markets that could really use a lift as well. Seattle might not even have the Sonics for much longer since they can't build a new arena. It is justice for those two cities that they have the first two picks in this year's draft and could possibly drastically improve their teams in quick fashion. I cannot make sense of what the Celtics can do with that 5th pick.

The problem is the fact that, of the most talented players that are likely to be available at that 5th slot, there's nothing the the C's truly need, which is a legit post man. Most likely, you're looking at someone like a Corey Brewer or Al Horford. Horford player the 4 or 5 at time at Florida, but he's undersized to be a true big man at the pro level. Brewer is an athlete, a swingman and a scorer. Sound familiar? Mhm. We've got those guys in Paul Pierce and Gerald Green and there's no room on the roster for another one unless we dump either Paul or Gerald...which could end up happening. But again, we don't need that type of player. If this were the NFL, we'd be taking one of those two because they're the best available. The other big men in the draft are Joakim Noah, YI Jianlian, Roy Hibbert, Spencer Hawes and a few others that fall into the upper tier of centers and power forwards. Hawes is the best of these guys and Hibbert is close behind. Jianlian is a huge question mark and more of an outside guy and Noah isn't big enough up top to be effective in the NBA. I guess I can see Hibbert in a C's uniform and he might be my favorite guy in this draft. He's a very quick learner with a high basketball IQ and good fundamentals. But he's just not the athlete that Oden is, so he's more of a middle round kind of pick. But he might be necessary for the C's at 5 in my opinion.

We'll see what happens. Maybe they'll package some of our top guys together with the 5th pick to get a lower pick and a big name, superstar player to play with Pierce. Maybe they'll just trade down and get more picks. Who knows. The only certainty is that Boston fans like myself will be scratching our heads and envying Portland and Seattle for a while to come.

On a brighter note, the Sox buried the Yanks last night at Ruth's house. I absolutely love when Manny hits one of those home runs that cause Joe Castiglione to convulse and get overly excited. Manny's three-run shot in the first was a no-doubter and both Castiglione and the YES network play-by-play announcer called it as such, saying it was gone as soon as he hit the ball. Awesome. Mussina got booed, A-Rod made another glove-slap-like move when he elbowed Pedroia trying to break up a double play and Tavarez pitched really well for being our 5th starter. It was a nice win, and it sets up a very important rubber game tonight that I will be glued to. A-Rod will probably get drilled by Schilling. The Yankees REALLY need to win this game to avoid losing another series, and Torre REALLY needs to win this game to perhaps save his job. The Sox, on the other hand, need to win to keep the Yanks down and closer to out. 11.5 games back would be great, but moreover, all the turmoil that would result from a Yankee loss tonight would be far more valuable. I think tonight will be a lot closer than the last two games and it should be a very fun game to watch.

To conclude, I encourage all of you to print out some stories about the lottery last night, especially those highlighting the demise of Memphis and Boston. Read them, process what you've read and then proceed to the bathroom and wipe your ass with the pieces of paper. Might as well continue to smear shit on the Celtics' franchise and all that surrounds it.

Updates

My dad emailed me the other day, asking who the hell all the links were on my blog page. he said he knew who richlevine and Ponch were, but the others weren't clear. So I explained. I suppose it's time to explain who's linked to this here blog and the reasons behind these lucky few being linked.



Westgate
Rich Levine
Ponch
Nina Gilbert
MPB Music Productions
Jim Hammen
Enzymatics
Enjoy Schneweis
DVJS
Bowen

I had to do that so I knew what order they were in, sorry. Ok, Westgate is the link to the myspace page of a band that consists of three of my closest friends from back in Bev (Beverly, MA, my hometown). You can listen to some of their tunes here and find some pretty funny pictures as well. Rich Levine is a link to the blog URLB, belonging to the inane, off-the-mark but occasionally logical brain of another close friend of mine, Richard A. Levine. Although he doesn't really give a shit about his blog as of late, since he posts about every time the Yankees win. Well, okay..a little more often than that. Ponch is the link to the severly lacking blog of my first college roommate, Adam Ponchick. I guess the only thing he ever had to say involved why waking up in the morning sucks so bad for him. This has been the same tune he has sung since 1998, by the way. Perhaps it's time to put down the bong, pal. Nina Gilbert links you to another blog of a friend of mine who happens to be the wife of the aforementioned Gilbert...aforementioned a while back and here and there. Nina is probably the only 'sure thing' in the blogging world, as I am fairly certain she writes every day. Kudos to you, Neener. Snaps as well. Also, La and I will be in LA this weekend, so we can't make Gray's raincheck BBQ/Bday party. Should I mail her gift or wait until we come up there in, say, 2011? MPB Music Productions is a link to my brother Mike's website. Here, you can sample his music and read about who he is and what he's done. If you happen to like the sample of the beeps and horn blows, I'll send it to you on your cell phone. It's a funny ring to have. Jim Hammen is the first of three links on here to blogs of people I have never met. Both, subsequently, are from North Dakota. I know, really fucking weird...never thought I'd know anyone from North Dakota. DVJS and Schneweis are the other ones...all offer entertaining, yet slightly off-kilter entries about everything from basketball and shoes to what-if's and buffets in ND. Enjoy. Enzymatics belongs to my other brother, as it is the link to his company'z website. There's nothing overly exciting about it but you can learn about him (Chris Benoit) and his newest venture. Finally, Bowen...last and most of all, least. There's really nothing more to say about his blog. Nah, not really. His is as good a read as any of the other mindless, tangential bloggery you'll find out there. But it is most fun to break his balls whenever possible. Cheers, big John.

I think that about explains it all.

On the topic of 'trying too hard', I think Subway should give up on its other ventures that stray away from the traditional, cold sub that they're so adept at making. They offer personal pizzas now, and I'm not really sure why they've chosen this endeavor. Their whole thing with these is that you can 'personalize it', or choose your own toppings as you see fit. What a novel idea! Not sure I can recall another place that serves pizza wherein you can actually choose what you want on the thing. Thanks for really putting yourselves out there, Subway.

Hope your Tuesday is going along a litte more smoothly than mine. To those of you undergoing something about as pleasing as a catheter on this day, I wish you a speedy road back to feeling good. You know who you are.

I Love Cupcakes

I think I have the answer to the world's problems...and by the world, I am of course referring to anyone you've pissed or need to make amends with. Or maybe someone you don't know that you want to make a good impression on, like your girl/boy's parents. Or maybe a new teacher that looks like she'll be a real bitch to deal with unless you get on her good side. The answer? Cupcakes.

Cupcakes have been a part of my life for like, a really long time and I'm sure the same goes for you. I cannot recall a single instance in which a cupcake didn't make me feel instantly happy to be alive. If I went to a bake sale in elementary school, I headed straight for cupcakes and then over to the table with the ice cream cones filled with cake batter and frosting on top...basically just a cupcakes in a cone, but a massively delicious idea and less mess than the paper wrapper. But the paper wrapper always added a little something extra for me because you can pop it in your mouth and chew it. It's like cake gum. You may think that's gross but it's awesome. You should do it the next time you have a cupcake. Trust me.

Imagine you're a new teacher at some school and every other student trying to brown nose gives you a shiny apple. Thanks, but seriously. I don't know where that whole trend started but an apple takes ZERO effort and it's not going to separate any kid from another unless it's the greatest apple ever grown. And even in that case, I'm not sure you'd have a leg up because who's going to believe you that it really is the greatest apple ever? That's too tall of a tale, my friend. But if you show up at my desk on the first day of school and slide a perfect little cupcake over to me, you've not only got it made in that class but I'll probably see to it that you also gain certain other immunities and good fortunes throughout the rest of the school. If it's a funfetti cupcake, you might as well consider yourself royalty in my book. Head of the class!

Cupcakes are fucking awesome, are they not? Lauren and I went to this bakery this weekend that makes cupcakes that are good beyond reason, and she decided to pick up a box of them to give out to a few people. Roommates, co-workers, etc. The reactions were phrases like, "Oh my god, how much do I love you right now?", and "Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?" Save the fact that apparently she's not nice to someone she works with...it was overlooked by the cupcake and now that person doesn't give a shit because of this tasty little treat. Truly amazing stuff.

Think about it: it's a mini cake, complete with frosting and sometimes filling and it's JUST FOR YOU. No one ever expects you the share a cupcake because that would be ludicrous. Should anyone ever ask you for a bite of their cupcake, you're in the right to say NO WAY, PAL. They can get their own cupcake. Simple as that.

I encourage all of you that exist in the poor graces of another person to take the route of the cupcake to get back the good side of that individual. There's just no way that plan can fail. Word on the street is that the only reason Joe Torre has not been canned yet is because he brings big George a cupcake every time the Yanks lose. Hey, grumble if you must. But it makes total sense.

Never underestimate the power of a cupcake.

Joyeux Vendredi

As I watch the rain pour down outside the windows of the Most Boring Job Ever, I can't help but feel partially responsible for this rash of unsightly weather. I previously commented on the fact that May isn't supposed to be hot and sunny as it had been for the better part of the month thusfar; rather, it should be rainy and cool. Whatever this is now is certainly NOT cool. It's downright freezing. The temperature index gives an actual reading of 42° and a 'feels like' reading of 36°. This rain pattern is supposed to continue right on through the weekend. My internal actual reading shows 'kinda like shit' with a 'feels like' reading of 'like complete shit'.

Aside from the weather, not much is spectacular about the end of this week, aside from the fact that is indeed the END of the week. The Sox will most likely be cancelled this evening, so I'll have to attend the makeup which may be tomorrow, in the rain. However, there appears to be some light ahead and not just from the forecast. I'll explain.

If any of you listened to the Mike Felger show yesterday afternoon, you probably heard his interview with the Patriots' Jarvis Green. Green told of the early arrival of Randy Moss and his eagerness to participate in the preseason conditioning drills. Apparently he's also primed for some good, old-fashioned charity work as well. I'm not quite sure who this Moss character is, but he's presenting himself as the second coming of Christ as it stands now. The thing of it is, I don't have a ton of respect for a guy who spent the last portion of his career in a snooze out in Oakland. All reports out of there tell of his lack of anything and everything while he was there and that not a single person was sad to see him go...aside from maybe JeMarcus Russell. The Raiders were the laughing stock of the NFL last season but looking deeper into that situation you can see that: 1. their defense was much improved over the season and kept them in games that they probably could have won if their offense wasn't totally anemic, and 2. that anemic offense probably could have done a bit more with the personnel they had. Regardless, when you have players like Moss who so obviously don't want to be there and it shows on the field, there's just no way that's going to have a positive affect on the rest of the team.

Now he finds himself in the comfy quarters of New England, amidst a core of new and old talent that has been concocted to win a Super Bowl. From the outside, you've never seen a shinier, more attractive offense in the one that will surround Tom Brady this season and the improvements we've made on defense will fill some gaping holes...although a few still remain in the secondary. I hate thinking that there's nothing that can stop them this season but it's impossible to think otherwise. The upcoming NFL season should be fruitful for New England fans.

So as I mentioned in a previous post, I had that audition for the radio gig yesterday morning. To clarify, it's part of one of those ESPN Dream Job contests and this one is to be the play-by-play announcer for the Class A affiliate of the Sox: the Lowell Spinners. I thought it went really well whcih probably isn't a good sign. I had to call the second inning of the 2004 ALCS and my whole angle going in was to make sure that I didn't sound like a Boston fan. I actually had to catch myself in the middle of my broadcast because i really had the urge to blurt out that Kevin Brown really sucks. Other than that, I kept it pretty low-key. But I fear that I may have come off a bit dronish in my delivery. See, I asked the guy running this thing what the downfalls of the other guys have been up to that point. He said that the biggest problem they've seen is the inner Sox fan glaring through contestants' broadcasts. Apparently, many of the other contestants couldn't stay away from calling David Ortiz "Big Papi" and stuff like that. He also told me that one guy came in and replicated the Joe Castiglione broadcast from that exact game, word for word. We then both joked about how Castiglione, even being the icon that he is among Sox fans, probably wouldn't get this job if he auditioned because he's so old and tired. I don't know, maybe I'll get a call back to the final round but even if I don't, it was pretty cool to sit in the ESPN radio booth right next to where Felger does his show. I'll never forget it, that's for sure.

More on the Sox...I really enjoyed yesterday's slate of games because they were both very good wins from lineups that were unconventional for this year's squad. Game one featured a gritty performance by Julian Tavarez; one that was imperative for saving some bullpen work in the midst of a double header. Usually, double headers play out in a way the calls for long work by middle-relievers. That wasn't the case yesterday because of the Tavarez performance. Solid defense and timely outs were also the theme in game two, a game in which Schilling wasn't dealing with his best stuff. But it's always refreshing to see your ace struggle through all six innings of work, yet never give up that big hit with men on base. He just kept fighting and gave the offense a chance to win the game. We all know that Eric Hinske was the star of the evening, making a sensational diving grab despite introducing his face to the right field dirt in rude fashion. I have no idea how he held onto the baseball, but that catch was one of the best I've seen. And then he did it at the plate, smacking a two-run homer in the seventh to put the Sox up for good. I always love seeing guys enjoy themselves when they play the game, and seeing Hinske's child-like grin as he rounded the bases and pumped his fist was pretty awesome. There's nothing like bench production in critical parts of the game, especially when you're looking for offense any way you can get it. Hats off to Hinske.

Finally, I'm happy to report that I have done some pretty nifty doodling this morning. I doodle from time to time, but it's not very often that I look at a doodle and think "man, that's one sick doodle". Well it happened this morning...the picture above is of poor quality, but enjoy nonetheless.

Here's hoping the weather cooperates for the slate of games this weekend.

Not-So-Deep Thoughts

I went out at lunch today to get gas and the humid, 85° weather got me thinking...must be time for another incessant rambling.

Spring has officially retired and given up its highly sought after position to Summer. I can't really blame Spring...that season always got the short end of the stick in its relationship with Winter. What a bitch Winter must be to hang out with. It always has to be cold, even during the months that are supposed to belong to Spring. It muscles into half of Fall and half of Spring in a way that I can't imagine anyone would appreciate that and to top it all off, it hogs all of the good holidays that we all have to spend with it. Thus, Spring threw in the towel. May is supposed be 60's and rainy, not 80's and humid. It's far too early to be dealing with ball sweat, folks. FAR TOO EARLY.

I'm happy to report that the National Gas Out yesterday helped lower gas prices by one cent. I'm so glad I sweated out my commute last night instead of filling up on my way home and saving myself the stress of the 'low fuel' warning. I have no idea why this is, but every time I get down to final few miles in my tank, I still find myself looking at the gas level on my dashboard display every second. It's like, in the back of my head, I think that there's this slight chance that the gauge might flash me a message or something...like 'Hey guy, you've got plenty...relax', or 'Hear that beeping? It means GET GAS NOW, dick.' I hate not knowing if I'm going to run out or not. I really need to buy a car that tells me exactly how many miles I can go until the car dies. Unfortunately, my stripped-down Saturn doesn't even have power windows.

I'm really confused by the new Heineken Light commercial that plays the Pussycat Dolls song about wishing your girlfriend was hot like me. It's a beer, so I'm thinking it's probably a cold beer. No, I don't wish my beer was hot, that's gross. Next, my girlfriend is, as the term so blatantly suggests, a girl...not a beer. What could a beer possibly have to offer me as a partner, other than 5 minutes of cold refreshment? I guess if the bottle was a wide-mou--nah, forget it. I can't think of any advantages. For me, the ideal beer commercial would be 5 seconds of just the bottle itself, no sound. That's it. Run these every few hours. I think it could work.

I've got an audition for a radio announcer's gig tomorrow and when I called my mom to tell her about it, she told me to get a haircut. Isn't that just like a mom to suggest a haircut for something that doesn't require any face time with anyone? I realize that my hair is slightly mangy, so maybe she's just looking for any excuse to tell me to cut it. Watch, the guy tomorrow will say something like, "Geez, we really liked your stuff but that hair...I'm afraid it's just not cut out for radio." If that happens, I WILL NOT be telling my mom about it. No way, man.

I have a green polo shirt with dark green stripes on it. A woman at work commented that it looks like the guy's shirt from Blues Clues when I wore it a few weeks ago. Yesterday, she told me that today would be Blues Clues day at work and that I should wear the shirt. I nodded. She came into my cube this morning and upon seeing that I didn't wear the shirt, she asked why I hadn't complied with Blues Clues day. I replied that I looked for the shirt but eventually remembered that I had burned it after that last time of wearing it. She totally believed me. At that point I wished I had kept the shirt and bought a blue dog, just to see the reaction.

Finally, god forbid Gary Sheffield ever loses the grip on his bat during a swing. I've never seen a more out of control swing than the ones he was taking against Wakefield last night. There's just no way he wouldn't kill someone if the bat flew out of his hands. Ipso facto, I hate Gary Sheffield.

Mmm...gyro.

I'm convinced that at some point this season, 37,000 fans or so will be treated to something remarkable at Fenway Park. Sure, the four homers in a row were pretty special; the six-run ninth on Mother's Day was nice. I'll even say that the sweep of the Yankees in April was decent. But I'm talking about a supernatural event that will change lives.

La and I sat there last night in section 14, row 14 on May 14th and watched Daisuke pitch a glittery gem of a game at the expense of the hottest team in baseball. Detroit came in with a 9-2 mark in the month of May, a 1/2 game better than the current Majors-best Sox. I kept my eyes on the scoreboard to the right of the Monster, showing Dice's every pitch by speed and pitch type. Fastball, 94. Changeup, 78. Splitter, 82. Cut Fastball, 86. Curveball, 81. Here's a quick math lesson--that's five pitches he threw for strikes with a range of 16MPH from fastball to changeup. Five. But when he adds that mythical sixth pitch...when that scoreboard up there tries to register "Gyroball, 90"...I fully expect the lights to short out on that board and create an electrical display of fireworks that George Lukas would be proud of.

Who knows if that will ever happen at Fenway. Frankly, I really couldn't care less about this 'gyroball'. I've seen this man pitch three times at Fenway on this young season, last night being the best vantage point I've witnessed. He's different. He's got this way about him that can't be verbalized by a half-wit blog writer from the North Shore of Massachusetts. But what I can and will verbalize to you is why Fenway is so different when he's on the mound.

We live in a very tense world right now, a world where family dinner tables can't agree on what it really is to be American and what cultural acceptance should consist of. If you watch 'Meet the Press' on any given Sunday, you're most likely going to hear Tim Russert ask any guest in front of him about foreign policy and the war in Iraq, even if it's Daisuke himself up there. I have to say though, it's pretty refreshing to walk into Fenway Park and be swarmed by vendors selling Japanese headbands a-la Daniel LaRusso. 1/3 of the crowd must be of Asian descent when he pitches and the media is dominated by Japanese camera crews. I know it's a little corny and possibly small-minded of me to comment on the cultural harmony of Fenway Park when Daisuke pitches, especially when the team is the best in the bigs and nothing is really wrong in Sox Nation. But it's something. It means nothing in the grand scheme of things but it means something to a few thousand Red Sox fans who are probably overlooking their deep-seeded racial biases in support of Matsuzaka. And that's something.

There's another side of this equation that looks beyond the presumption of global harmony within the old ballpark when Dice pitches. I noticed last night that when he runs onto the field, he superstitiously hops over the chalk lines between the dugout and mound. I also saw him roll several balls over the dugout to kids in the stands as he returned after a 1/2 inning of work. For a Japanese player who has been a professional athlete since what seems like the age of 10, it's awesome to see him enjoying the game and acting like a kid. It gives me goosebumps when him and Ortiz engage in their congratulatory slaps and bows after games...it also makes me laugh, watching a 6'4, hulking man-beast bow and embrace with a much smaller, boyish Japanese pitcher. Daisuke and so many other Japanese baseball players have grown up and into these jobs as professional athletes and their paths have been a lot different that the average American athlete. The work ethic is more intense, the pressure can be much greater and I think that overall, more is expected of you; especially for someone who is considered a national hero like our man Dice. But he still loves and enjoys the game and clearly has a lot of fun in doing so.

I knew that once baseball season started, I would find incredible difficulty in writing about other topics. But I love baseball, I love the Sox and I love Fenway Park. The Patriots occupy a chunk of my heart as well, along with the C's. But Gillette and the Garden (the new Garden...the old Garden is different) don't share that romantic, mystical feel of Fenway. There has already been a season's worth of emotion in this 2007 Red Sox campaign, and we're only halfway through May. Just another reason why baseball season is just different.

Roll of the Dice (K)

It must be love when you can't help but flee to the computer after a Sox victory in lieu of watching 'Lost', which is steadily approaching being the only show worth watching on TV. (insert clause stating that '24' will eternally be on this list)

Daisuke Mania, long since the glitz and glamour of his flaunted insertion into the fold in Boston, has become a kind of soap opera by now, well after the 33rd game of this young season. The groundwork has been laid for a long and winding road for our newest lead character but the dramatic pageantry has faded. He's most definitely human; something that I was never sure of until I saw him battle for mediocrity against the likes of Seattle no more than a week ago. However, let it be dually noted that the air surrounding a Matsuzaka start 'round here has remained anxious and hopeful, no matter how many walked-in runs or bleacher souvenirs he's served up. I still have the feeling that, in any given game, he has the potential to be masterful. In any given start, he has the capability of being wickedly nasty, as we've all been lead to believe he has been and will be.

There were flashes tonight...flashes of brilliance, flashes of dominance. Also, there were flashes of the daydreamy loft balls that he has tossed up so frequently over the course of his first few starts in a Sox uniform. It's such that makes it even more difficult to gain any sort of confidence in him when he takes the mound. Again, I do feel as though he can dominate a game at any moment in time but to feel like he can do it for 7, 8 or 9 innings is not as certain. He can throw a pitch that causes my neck to angle towards my shoulder in disbelief of the path it took to the catcher's mitt. He can also throw a pitch that makes me throw my head back couch-bound and wonder how the hell he can leave a hanger on an 0-2 pitch. It has been a bumpy, yet smooth ride so far.

Aside from the wonder from asunder, there has been offense. Homeruns are coming by the bushel these days and guys mired in slumps are merely an ahem in the box score. So what if JD Drew has four or five hits in his last forty-four at-bats? So what if our leadoff guy is batting sub .230 right now? When the W's double the L's, things such as these can be overlooked and will be overlooked. In the same light, the positives seem to be super-positive. Pedro, aka Dustin Pedroia, has shined as of late. Maybe having the fan-favorite Cora on his heels has proved medicinal in his inauguration. It helps when you cut down your swing with two strikes and stay on the ball. Lowell's rogue play at third has been overshadowed by his bat. And even with our shortstop/leadoff man stuck in the mire, it was nice to see him go deep tonight and I do like his erratic and sometimes enigmatic play at short. So goes the life of a fan when watching his home team continue to win, but surely watching much of the new talent in town struggle through new beginnings.

Maybe that's the way of world that is the Red Sox right now. I guess it's only right that the mainstays like Ortiz, Varitek, Youk and Manny provide an everlasting lift for the new blood. Our core here is one of great stature and imposed fear. Our core can be enough to bolster a pitching staff and make it great, like the core of our rotation. Wakefield has been beyond words this season and Papelbon is his usual self. Schilling, aside from his verbal robbery, is still an ace in his old age. It's all there, but it's only a whimsical hope right now that the super polymer isn't broken down to that of an easily penetrable film that only looks good from the outside. After all, it's May 9th. We haven't even begun.

A Taste of French...just add salt.

In honor of losing an epic blog to the perils of laptop computing, I have no choice but to post a rambler. You see, I've been struggling to regain that same stream of thought that allowed to be plow through hundreds upon thousands of words concering the circus in NY surrounding the World's Oldest Man being paid the World's Largest Salary per the World's Biggest D-Bag/Owner. Alas, I cannot continue to jog my brain in fear that I might run it right into the ground. So, I share my thoughts of the day with you, kind reader.

My hair is approaching mullet status as of late. I had a plan after my last haircut of letting it grow until the first day of summer or thereabouts. At that point, I was planning on giving myself the old stand-by, summer do, known as the wiffle or shorty. Now I'm not so sure that I will carry out that mission because I am feeling like my hair project has been one of great success. But there is something to be said about the shaved dome for those hot, summer days and nights. I just don't know what my next move will be.

My buddy Tom and I have been speculating about one of our co-workers and his whereabouts over these last few days and we suspect that he is knee deep in paella at his house. The latest comment was that he had filled up his bathtub with paella and he can't leave the house until it's all been consumed. I've been giggling about this every few minutes or so, because the thought of someone actually filling a bathtub with paella is particularly amusing. Tom's last addition was that perhaps he has now broken out his Foreman Grill and started cooking up some meats to accompany the paella. The possibilities appear to be endless with this one.

On top of that previous workday distraction, I've encountered the most success I've ever had in Vegas-style, three cards-per-draw Solitaire over the course of today. I'm up to $1147 after a fresh deal of the cards. I don't think I've ever accumulated this much money in Solitaire, nor have I ever played 6 straight hours of it in one sitting. That makes TWO firsts for me in one day. How many of you can say that about your day today? No one? I thought not.

My best guess for what number Randy Moss will choose to sport on his shiny, new Patriots jersey is 11. I can't imagine he'll go back to a number in the 80's because most of them are taken. 84 is gone, 88 is gone and finally, his latest number of 18 that he wore in Oakland is gone. He really doesn't have too many choices and I feel like 11 could be money for him in New England. Richie has stated that he should go with number 1, which also would be money. I wonder how many fans will show up at Gillette for the first game, donning a Moss jersey.

I should have mentioned this earlier, but I experienced a new kind of joy this past weekend and it has just occured to me that I should share it. La and I bought my nephew Aaron a Papelbon jersey on Saturday and he put it on as soon as we gave it to him. He's really weird about the Red Sox because while he has no blessed clue who they are or what they mean to me, my Dad and La, he recognizes the logo. He should by now, considering he owns hordes of Sox gear and sees my parents' Sox flag nearly everyday that hangs on their front porch. But whenever he realizes the Sox logo in his presence, he exclaims "Red Sox player!" It's strange, but very amusing. Anyway, when he put the jersey on for the first time, he started running as if there were bases, and in the opposite direction. He'd run like he was going from home to third to second and so on. I guess it was sort of appropriate, since he's so young and has kind of a backwards perception of organized sports at this point in his life.

Finally, please enjoy this artilce that was just now forwarded to me by Bowen:

"Conservatives have to stop rolling their eyes every time they hear the word, "France." Like just calling something "French" is the ultimate argument winner. As if to say, "What can you say about a country that was too stupid to get on board with our wonderfully-conceived and brilliantly-executed war in Iraq?"

And, yet, an American politician could not survive if he uttered the simple, true statement, "France has a better health care system than we do, and we should steal it." Because here, simply dismissing an idea as French passes for an argument. "John Kerry? Couldn't vote for him; he looked French." Yeah, as opposed to the other guy who just looked stupid.

Now, last week, France had an election, and people over there approach an election differently. They vote. Eighty-five percent of them turned out. You couldn't get 85% of Americans to get off the couch if there was an election between "Tits" and "Bigger Tits," and they were handing out free samples!

Now, maybe the high turnout has something to do with the fact that the French candidates are never asked where they stand on evolution, prayer in school, abortion, stem cell research or gay marriage. And if the candidate knows about a character in a book other than Jesus, it's not a drawback.

The electorate doesn't vote for the guy they want to have a croissant with; nor do they care about private lives. In the current race, Ségolène Royal has four kids, but she never got married. And she's a Socialist. In America, if a Democrat even thinks you're calling him "liberal," he grabs an orange vest and a rifle and heads into the woods to kill something!

Madame Royal's opponent is married, but they live apart and lead separate lives. And the people are okay with that for the same reason they're okay with nude beaches; because they're not a nation of six-year-olds who scream and giggle if they see pee-pee parts!

They have weird ideas about privacy. They think it should be private. In France, even the mistresses have mistresses. To not have a lady on the side says to the voters, "I'm no good at multi-tasking."

Now, like any country, France has its faults, like all that ridiculous accordion music. But, their health care is the best in the industrialized world. As is their poverty rate. And they're completely independent of Mid East oil. And they're the greenest country. And they're not fat. And they have public intellectuals in France. We have Dr. Phil!

They invented sex during the day, lingerie and the tongue. Can't we admit we could learn something from them?

So, from now on, all you high-ranking Bush Administration officials, because the French are righter than you on most things, when France comes up in conversation, you are not allowed to roll your eyes. The only time you get to do that is when your hooker from Ms. Julia is blowing you."

One Night at the Ballpark

What can I say, not every Fenway experience is "one of the best nights ever". Last night would best be categorized in the "not one of the best nights ever" section of Fenway nights.

Yes, I know the game was pretty sweet for those who fought the chilly breeze and the AA performance of our Seibu Savior (AA as in minor league). However, La and I sat in the bleachers for the first time this season and our experience was less than memorable, depending on how you look at it. Of course, I'll probably never forget the dude in front of us yelling "Hey, Papelschlong!" for about 15 minutes in the 8th inning. But I'd like to. Here's a look at the good and the bad of last night's contest against the Mariners.

Good: The Aramark vendors at Fenway. They must put the new guys in the bleachers because there were a handful of kids slinging sports bars and waters out there. I say 'kid' because they were kids. A few of them could not have been a day over 15. There was one in particular that stood out to me...the sports bar kid. He was that one vendor that has the perfect Boston accent and the ideal item to peddle with that very accent. "Spohts Bahs, heeyah; spohts bahs, right heeyah." Over and over, perfectly intonated and projected each time. At one point, he stopped right in front of us and launched one up, several rows above. He shot a look of regret as he didn't hit his target with the ice cream bar, and then received a series of mixed boos and cheers. The same kid who was yelling at Papelbon later on yelled that he hoped the kid was paid by the hour...a remark that fell about fifty yards short of making any sense at all. Keep up the great work, Aramark.

Bad: Most fans in the bleachers. I gotta tell you, if you're looking to take in a game and get lambasted, yell obscenities and nearly fight everyone within a 20-seat radius of you, this is your territory. It's just not my scene these days. I'm extremely focused at games, or I try to be. I can't deal with the distractions in the bleachers anymore. You got drunk schmucks at every turn who aren't even watching the game, fathers trying to shut the drunks up because they, for some ungodly reason, decided to take little Jimmy to the bleachers for a game, and then you've got the Varitek contingency of larger teen girls who yell things like, "'Tek! Impregnate me!", or the classier version, "Jason, I'm giving myself up to you!" These girls gross me out to no end. I can't understand why drunk kids at Fenway yell at Sox players while they're in the field. "Wily Mo!!!! Willaaaaay! Mooooooo! Up here! You da man, Wily Mooo! Wily Joooooe! Silly Moooooo! Wooooooooooooooohooooooooooooooooooooo!" Shut the FUCK UP. Are you trying to distract him? He already plays right field like Jose Canseco. Just let Wily Mo be. Here's a novel idea: Yell at the opposing team's fielders while they're in the field. Or even better, don't talk at all unless there's a homerun by the Sox.

Look, I'm not a Fenway snob. I don't give a hoot where I sit because every game I'm at, I'm just thankfully happy to be there again. But I can't stand it when other people make the game an unenjoyable experience. I know the lot of you agree with me, here. Sure, I may have been a little rowdy at some point in my fan career at Fenway but I've never been inconsiderate of the surrounding fans. And if I've ever been absurdly drunk at a game (maybe twice), I've left. I don't stick around to see how many different things I can say that sound remarkably like a Helen Keller impression. Example:

Kid in front us, to the left--progression of "Let's Go, Red Sox!" chant:

First Inning: "Let's Go, Red Sox!"

Third Inning: "Less Go, Ressox!"

Fifth Inning: "Leffgo, Redox!"

Seventh Inning: "Essco Ledfox!"

Ninth Inning: (thud...stumbles clumisly into bleacher wall) "Ahhhh...my beeyah...I sffplilled my beeyah...DUUUUUDE...goooooo fooooooossssss!"

It should be another interesting night next Monday, as La and I journey back out to the bleachers--the upper bleachers--for a game against the Tigers. More to come on that experience.

You Don't Say...

I was reading a Q&A between Graham Bensinger and Brady Quinn and I learned some things about what it is to be Brady. The following is how I break down each of his answers to some of the really tough questions posed to Quinn during the interview.

Best part of college: The relationships

Which relationships, exactly? I'm pretty sure he got an inordinate amount of ass in college as the QB of Notre Dame, so he must be referring to females, right? Or does he mean teammates? I ask you, has anyone in the history of man ever said his favorite part of college was the relationships he had? My college relationships got me NOWHERE...not this ones with girls, not the one booze, not the ones with drugs. If anything, I've only managed to lose a few years of my life because of them. I call bullshit here, Brady. BULLSHIT.

Worst part of college: Rigorous work schedule

Ok, this one is fine. I can't imagine the rigors of balancing school work at an institution like ND and football practice, not to mention the aforementioned ass he got. Fair enough.

Five people I'd most like to invite to dinner: Jesus Christ, Babe Ruth, Marilyn Monroe, Don King, and Gandhi

I'm sorry, but if you put these five people at a dinner table it would be Armageddon before they served the goose liver pate. Babe would have Marylin bent over the table with a hotdog hanging out of his mouth, JC would instantly implode due to the presence of sin personified (Ruth) and King and Gandhi would be entrenched in a heated discussion about whether or not it's right that a white man like Quinn should be playing for a team called the Browns. You better revamp the guestlist, Brady. This one would be a bitch to cleanup.

Last book read: A textbook for class called, "Personal Finance for Dummies"

Somehow I can't see how personal finances are going to affect Quinn in the near future. He meant to say that the last book he read was called "Dealing with Depression: How to deal with tears on Draft day".

Last movie seen: Blades of Glory

Lied about this one, too. He couldn't get through the book on depression so he rented the movie instead.

Person most admired growing up: My parents

A manufactured answer for the former quarterback of Notre Dame. Sure, I admired my parents when I was growing up and I still do. But I also admired Joe Montana and Tony Rice a whole hell of a lot. It's just a good thing he didn't say Tim Couch.

Favorite video game: Fight Night

Eh, whatever. But it would have been a lot cooler if he had said Track and Field.

If I weren't a football player, I'd be: A professional basketball player

This is one of those layup questions where you're supposed to say something like, "I'd be a coach." What kind of answer is that? Self-important asshole. Although, if I weren't a salesman I'd be a professional football player. I would.

Dream date (if you didn't have a girlfriend): Carrie Underwood

I thought he said he admired his parents, not Tony Romo. And what's the big deal with Carrie Underwood, anyway? After all, he didn't even invite her to dinner with Jesus and the Babe. I'd be pissed.

Favorite meal: Some sort of Subway sandwich

Coming this Summer: Subway ads with Jared and Brady, showing Jared letting Brady get a taste of his six-inch.

No one would expect that I: Listens to a lot of rap and hip hop music

No one would expect that he likes playing football, either. What athlete doesn't listen to a lot of rap and hip-hop?