October 7, 2010
My Sincerest Apologies to the City of Cleveland

I was talking with my roommate yesterday when it dawned on me that of all the hard-luck sports cities, Cleveland has been hit the hardest. This is not just because of that LeBron character that skipped town. In 2007 all three of their professional sports team were budding with playoff success. Not only did these teams have quality rosters but they were budding with young talent. Now each of those teams have hit the skids and will be lucky if they aren’t cellar dwellers. Let us observe. 

We’ll start with the most obvious example in the Cavs. In the 2006-2007 season LeBron James led the Cavaliers to one of their highest regular season win totals in decades and went into the playoffs as the number two team in the Eastern Conference. They made it all the way to the NBA Finals where they were promptly swept by the veteran San Antonio Spurs.

While it was discouraging to see their fair so poorly in the Finals, Cavs fans were optimistic that they could continue to build around Lebron and hopefully get a championship from him before he hit free agency. That never happened as the 2008, 2009 and 2010 teams were never able to make it back to Finals. 

Now Lebron and his talents are in South Beach and the Cavs are left with a team that would struggle to win games in the Ivy League, let alone the NBA. While it could be said that the Cavs fall from grace could be the most epic of all time, the disappearing act of the Indians might be able to rival it. 

Back in ‘07 the Indians were the hottest team in the American League going into the playoffs. Most people don’t remember this but their lineup was stacked. Who was pitching for the tribe back then? Oh just some chumps named C.C Sabathia and Cliff Lee. (Cliff Lee didn’t really hit his stride until 2008 when he wont the Cy Young but he was still part of their giant talent pool.) Correct me if I’m wrong but I’m pretty sure these guys are the best pitchers in the game behind some guy with the last name Halladay. In 2007, they were on the same team. No big deal.Their offense was just as dangerous with guys like Travis Hafner, Grady Siezmore and Victor Martinez hitting the ball all over Jacob’s Field. 

In 2007 the Indians beat the Yankees in the ALDS but couldn’t finish off the Red Sox in the ALCS even after jumping out to a 3-1 lead in the series. Since then, Siezmore has been hurt, young talents Shin-Soo Choo and Ryan Garko failed to meet expectations and Lee, Sabathia and Martinez were traded to greener pastures. This year the Indians won whopping 69 games. That’s quite a fall from 95 wins in 2007.

To finish it off, we have the good ole Cleveland Browns. It’s hard to believe but the Browns were halfway decent in 2007. They barley missed the playoffs with a 10-6 record but like their other Cleveland counterparts, there was hope in the future. QB Derek Anderson had a Pro-Bowl caliber season, Jamal Lewis was still running hard and they had young guns Braylon Edwards and Kellen Winslow Jr. at wide receiver and tight end respectively. 

With high hopes coming into the 2008 season, they started of horrible, losing their first three games, and ended even worse, losing their last six in a row by a combine score of 129-31. This year they started off the season with a similar 0-3 record and unless they can convince the Colts to trade Peyton Manning for Seneca Wallace it’s going to be another long season.

So there you have it folks. One of the greatest collective downfalls in sports history. It’s OK Cleveland. Maybe someday a town in Ohio, we’ll say Akron, will produce a one-in-a-lifetime talent that can resurrect the…oh wait…that already happened? Never mind then. Better luck next decade Cleveland. 

5:54pm  |   URL: http://tumblr.com/ZN46Py1BR63e
October 1, 2010

Justin Timberlake + Jimmy Fallon + A History of Hip Hop = PURE GOLD

9:52am  |   URL: http://tumblr.com/ZN46Py18skie
July 20, 2010
Homelessness: A True Story

I have always wondered what it would be like to be homeless. I wondered what led people to such a situation and how I would perform if I had nothing. Well my friends, now I know. The following story is rather extensive and 100% true. Enjoy.

It all started Wednesday morning when I made the mistake of leaving my keys at work. I’m not sure why, but whenever I get to work in the morning I take my keys out of my pocket and put them on my desk. Why did I do this? Well logic says that I’m lighter on my feet without them so I can make it to the copy room in record time. I’m serious business when it comes to printing. 

Anyhow, I discovered this fact as I arrived at my apartment around 6:00pm. I eventually got into my apartment a little later thanks to my roommate but the fact of the matter remained that I didn’t have my keys. 

Fast forward a few hours to about 10:00pm. Because the city was blazing hot that afternoon, I made the conscious decision to going running a little later. (Don’t worry Mother, I went jogging in a nice well-lit area.) I planned on going for a half hour run and assumed one of my three roommates would be home by then and if not I could visit some of my neighbors. That being the case, bringing my phone or wallet wouldn’t be necessary. 

While on my jog, I decided to go visit one of my friends that lived nearby. It was about 10:45 and I wouldn’t be there for a long time. Turns out I am only capable of having two and a half hour conversations with my friends, aka I talk way too much. So at about 1:15am I made my way home to enjoy a good night’s rest. 

I got to my front doorstep around 1:30am and hoped that my roommates would be awake to let me in. I hit the buzzer a few times and nothing happened. I waited a little bit then tried again. And again. I made the discovery that the guys I live with are heavy sleepers. I sat there for a good 20 minutes trying to get into my place but nothing worked.

I knew a few folks in the area and thought I could get lucky and someone would be burning the midnight oil. Turns out people actually sleep in the city that never sleeps. I actually talked to my friends later and they said that they heard me buzzing but they thought it was a drunk that thought their doorbell was the vending machine button (I guess that really happens).

At exactly 2:37am I called it quits and came to terms that I was homeless for the evening. If you are thinking that there was another way out of this I assure you there was nothing. All I had on me was a iPod and the clothes on my back. I didn’t have a key, phone or wallet.

I had a few options at this point. One was to try and go down to my place of work and obtain my keys. This would require A) me to walk about 63 blocks to Midtown and B) gain access to my building. The distance didn’t scare me but getting the security guard to let me into the building would be tough. I didn’t have my ID or anything to prove my employment. For about 44 seconds I had a perfectly mapped out plan that was about as elaborate as the heist in Oceans 11. I came to realize that I would rather be homeless than spend the night in jail. 

Let me just say that the streets of New York are about what you expect at the early hours of the morning. The streets are sparse but still you will see your occasional crack head, workaholic or gypsy. As the only one representing Caucasian middle class, I’m guessing I stuck out like an Indian kid in Southeastern Idaho.

Another one of my options was to set up shop somewhere and just camp out for the night. I’ve seen plenty of folks do it before and I figured that I could tough it out. I start looking for a nice bench or newspaper stand to sit against when the blessed lights of CVS shown upon me. When I lifted my head to see a sign that said that they were open 24/7, I knew I found my sanctuary. 

You never really think of a pharmacy as a fascinating place until you are there for more than three hours. I spent my first 45 minutes scanning the beauty isle, which I blame on the day job. When you work at a beauty company you become weirdly observant of the products. I started smelling shampoos and body washes but that ended quickly after I realized that such behavior at that time of night was indicative of drug addiction.

After studying up on denture creams and reading half of the greeting cards, I discovered a small magazine rack near the checkout stand. There were no copies of Sports Illustrated or ESPN The Magazine so I settled for People magazine that had an article about Bachelor contestant Jake Pavelka and his classy ex-flame Vienna. Turns out their relationship was about as stable as my sleeping arrangements for the evening.

It was after I finished Us Magazine and made my way for Style that Manuel, the store manager, got suspicious. I don’t blame him. A normal human being averages roughly 5.8 minutes per store visit at CVS and here I was pushing two hours. I told him my predicament and he suggested that I go back to the pharmacy window and take a nap on the chairs next to the blood pressure machine. I did as the man instructed and crashed on a CVS pharmacy chair for a good two hours.

Normally, waking up in a new surrounding is an adventure. You have to remind yourself where you are and how you got there before you go bananas. So when I woke up to a woman refilling her prescription of oxycoton I was a little shaken. I knew then it was time for me to leave. It was 5:50am and soon enough my roommates would be awake.

I’m not really sure how I spend the next hour and a half but I know it involved a Starbucks bathroom, St. John’s Cathedral and the cheese isle of a grocery store. After that blur I went back to my apartment where my roommates had awaken from their deep slumbers and let me back in.

At the end of the day (and night) I learned a few things

1) Never go anywhere without your keys

2) Always have at least one roommate who is a light sleeper

3) People magazine is rather informative

4) CVS > Walgreens, Rite Aid and Duane Reade

So please dear friends. Take note. Learn from my mistakes and hopefully you will never have to have a homeless night.  

3:28pm  |   URL: http://tumblr.com/ZN46Pyny75n
June 13, 2010
Schmoozing

People who know me, know that I’m a fairly social creature. I like to talk with folks and I hope that they like to converse with me also. There is something that I feel that I haven’t quite mastered yet and that is the art of the schmooze. 

I bring this up because the place where I am doing my internship is all about “networking” and making connections. This last week we had a big welcome cocktail party where everyone was supposed to go and mingle with some of the professionals of the company. The same thing happened back in February when I was out here for the interview. 

In both instances I made a realization that might doom me for the rest of my professional life. I don’t really care about brown-nosing the presidents and CEO’s. Any conversation that I would have with them wouldn’t be to genuine. I mean, I would ask a few questions about their success and they would tell me a few stories. We would be cordial and forget each others names by the end of the conversation. 

Truth be told, I would much rather talk with the little guys, like the ones who work in the mail room and those serving the hour d’oeurves.They are more humble and are a lot more interesting than the arrogant man in his $3000 suit. I probably think this way because I am more of a little guy than a big shot. 

At one of these gatherings I found myself talking with one of the waiters about his job and what he thought about the party. I told him of how I used do the same kind of gig when I was in high school and how fun it was to watch people interact at some of the events. It was by far the best conversation of the evening. 

Maybe someday I will feel the need to schmooze but as for right now I’m content being friends with the janitor from Guatemala and talking baseball with security guard at the front desk. At least they will remember my name. 

10:01pm  |   URL: http://tumblr.com/ZN46PyfVfXV
May 27, 2010
The M&M Man

Every once in a while you meet people that you wish you could see on a regular basis. Because of the circumstance your paths only cross for a few minutes but in that time they make a very distinct impression. 

One of my assignments today at work was to go make a delivery at the Ralph Lauren building. While getting checked through security, which is pretty extensive at most office buildings, I met a man on the six floor who directed me to where I need to drop off the materials. 

As we walked together we chatted about the giant bowl of M&M’s by his desk and our plans for Memorial Day weekend. He was very friendly and extremely to polite to me, the lowly intern. 

As I walked back to his desk to leave he insisted that I load up on M&M’s for the walk back to my building. I followed his orders and thanked him as I went on my way. 

After meeting this man I decided that I wanted to be more like him. He didn’t get caught up with the hustle and bustle and was just nice to everyone. 

I also decided that if there is ever another delivery heading to Ralph Lauren, I’m taking it, and not just because of the M&M’s.

10:05pm  |   URL: http://tumblr.com/ZN46Pyc7_fp
May 5, 2010
The Game for All America by William Earnest Harwell

Yesterday one of the greatest baseball announcers of all time, William Harwell passed away. He was the voice of the Detroit Tigers for many years and will forever be one of baseball’s most beloved figures. In his honor I have decided to post his brilliant essay on baseball called The Game for All America. 

 

Baseball is President Eisenhower tossing out the first ball of the season; and a pudgy schoolboy playing catch with his dad on a Mississippi farm. If s the big league pitcher who sin in night clubs. And the Hollywood . singer who pitches to the Giants in spring training.

A tall, thin old man waving a scorecard from his dugout — that’s baseball. So is the big, fat guy with a bulbous nose running out one of his 714 home runs with mincing steps.

It’s America, this baseball. A re-issued newsreel of boyhood dreams. Dreams lost somewhere between boy and man. It’s the Bronx cheer and the Baltimore farewell. The left-field screen in Boston, the right-field dump at Nashville’s Sulphur Dell, the open stands in San Francisco, the dusty, wind-swept diamond at Albuquerque. And a rock home plate and a chicken wire backstop — anywhere.

There’s a man in Mobile who remembers a triple he saw Honus Wagner hit in Pittsburgh 46 years ago. That’s baseball. So is the scout reporting that a 16-year-old sandlot pitcher in Cheyenne is the new “Walter Johnson.”

It’s a wizened little man shouting insults from the safety of his bleacher seat. And a big, smiling first baseman playfully tousling the hair of a youngster outside the players’ gate.

Baseball is a spirited race of man against man, reflex against reflex. A game of inches. Every skill is measured. Every heroic, every failing is seen and cheered — or booed. And then becomes a statistic.

In baseball, democracy shines its clearest. Here the only race that matters is the race to the bag. The creed is the rule book. Color is something to distinguish one team’s uniform from another.

Baseball is Sir Alexander Fleming, discoverer of penicillin, asking his Brooklyn hosts to explain Dodger signals. It’s player Moe Berg speaking seven languages and working crossword puzzles in Sanskrit. It’s a scramble in the box seats for a foul — and a $125 suit ruined. A man barking into a hot microphone about a cool beer, that’s baseball. So is the sportswriter telling a .383 hitter how to stride, and a 20-victory pitcher trying to write his impressions of the World Series.

Baseball is a ballet without music. Drama without words. A carnival without kewpie dolls.

A housewife in California couldn’t tell you the color of her husband’s eyes, but she knows that Yogi Berra is hitting .337, has brown eyes and used to love to eat bananas with mustard. That’s baseball. So is the bright sanctity of Cooperstown’s Hall of Fame. And the former big leaguer, who is playing out the string in a Class B loop.

Baseball is continuity. Pitch to pitch. Inning to inning. Game to game. Series to series. Season to season.

It’s rain, rain, rain splattering on a puddled tarpaulin as thousands sit in damp disappointment. And the click of typewriters and telegraph keys in the press box — like so many awakened crickets. Baseball is a cocky batboy. The old-timer whose batting average increases every time he tells it. A lady celebrating a home team rally by mauling her husband with a rolled-up scorecard.

Baseball is the cool, clear eyes of Rogers Hornsby, the flashing spikes of Ty Cobb, an overaged pixie named Rabbit Maranville, and Jackie Robinson testifying before a Congressional hearing.

Baseball? It’s just a game — as simple as a ball and a bat. Yet, as complex as the American spirit it symbolizes. It’s a sport, business — and sometimes even religion.

Baseball is Tradition in flannel knickerbockers. And Chagrin in being picked off base. It is Dignity in the blue serge of an umpire running the game by rule of thumb. It is Humor, holding its sides when an errant puppy eludes two groundskeepers and the fastest outfielder. And Pathos, dragging itself off the field after being knocked from the box.

Nicknames are baseball. Names like Zeke and Pie and Kiki and Home Run and Cracker and Dizzy and Dazzy.

Baseball is a sweaty, steaming dressing room where hopes and feelings are as naked as the men themselves. It’s a dugout with spike-scarred flooring. And shadows across an empty ballpark. It’s the endless list of names in box scores, abbreviated almost beyond recognition.

The holdout is baseball, too. He wants 55 grand or he won’t turn a muscle. But, it’s also the youngster who hitch-hikes from South Dakota to Florida just for a tryout.

Arguments, Casey at the Bat, old cigarette cards, photographs, Take Me Out to the Ball Game — all of them are baseball.

Baseball is a rookie — his experience no bigger than the lump in his throat — trying to begin fulfillment of a dream. It’s a veteran, too — a tired old man of 35, hoping his aching muscles can drag him through another sweltering August and September.

For nine innings, baseball is the story of David and Goliath, of Samson, Cinderella, Paul Bunyan, Homer’s Iliad and the Count of Monte Cristo.

Willie Mays making a brilliant World Series catch. And then going home to Harlem to play stick-ball in the street with his teen-age pals — that’s baseball.

And so is the husky voice of a doomed Lou Gehrig saying, “I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of this earth.”

Baseball is cigar smoke, hot-roasted peanuts, The Sporting News, winter trades, “Down in Front,” and the “Seventh-Inning Stretch.” Sm arms, broken bats, a no-hitter, and the strains of the Star-Spangled Banner.

Baseball is a highly paid Brooklyn catcher telling the nation’s business leaders: “You have to be a man to be a big leaguer, but you have to have a lot of little boy in you, too.”

This is a game for America, this baseball!

12:09pm  |   URL: http://tumblr.com/ZN46PyYDb4X
(Notes: 1)
  
April 14, 2010
Goal #6- Run in a race of any distance

It was a couple hours after midnight on January 1st of this year and thought how I wanted to add a little pizazz to the year 2010. I concluded that making new years resolutions usually failed in the past because they were vague and nonspecific like “save money” or “be more motivated”. So I decided that I needed to make very specific goals and have them finished by the end of 2010. 

One of these goals was to run in a race of any distance. I know that sounds very nonspecific but I figured that the first change I had to run in a race I would take it. Make no mistake about it, I would have been happy with a 20 meter foot race with a fourth grader but a couple days ago I was invited to run in a 5k race here in Provo. 

For all of you non-runner types out there a 5k race is about 3.1 miles, which is a warm up for most distance runners. Back when I live in Colorado and was a fit 160 lbs, I used to run in this 10k race every year. I remember that was pretty so I figured a 5k would be a lot easier, until I realized that I am now significantly larger than my previous weight. Nevertheless, I signed up knowing that I had to complete my goal.

One of my favorite things about going to races such as this one is seeing the people that are there. My absolute favorites are the serious runners that are marked by their short shorts and intense warm-up routines. I promised myself that I would never be one of those people and this experience solidified my commitment.

Anyhow, to make sure you get the full experience of this race I will provide my race notes along with their corresponding times. 

-25 minutes till start: “Staying up until 3:14am last night was a great idea. How much did I pay for this thing? $12? I better get a freaking t-shit.”

-12 minutes till start: “Why is everyone here so giddy? Were about to run 3 miles, not play Dance Dance revolution. Must be that they gave out the t-shirts when we checked in. Also, I’ve decided that I’m going to walk this race. There really is not reason to run. I’m not racing against anyone.”

-2 minutes till start: “Someone just finished the opening prayer. I wonder what life will be life after BYU when something won’t start with prayer.” 

-1 minute into the race: “It’s at moments like this I hate being a competitive person. I’m started jogging then a guy in camouflage pants passed me. No way I finish behind this clown. It’s a good thing I’m listening to 30 Seconds to Mars. Great running music.”

-4 minutes into the race: “Not even halfway and I’m already running out of gas. The only thing keeping me motivated is the camo pants, who is right behind me.”

-10 minutes into the race:”Just passed three kids wearing serious running shorts. Success.”

-17 minutes into the race: “Good thing J-dawgs isnt open at 9:30 am because I would have taken a pit stop. Weird how hungry and not thirsty I am.”

-23 minutes into the race: “On the home stretch and I nearly tripped on the sidewalk. That would have been tragic.”

-24 minutes and 17 seconds into the race: “FINISHED…and it wasn’t that bad. Maybe I should run a marathon?”

3:23am  |   URL: http://tumblr.com/ZN46PyV1N8b
April 6, 2010
Baseball season is here and I couldn’t be happier.

Baseball season is here and I couldn’t be happier.

11:37am  |   URL: http://tumblr.com/ZN46PyTtWjg
March 14, 2010
How did I get here?

As I sit here about to fall asleep on an unfamiliar couch in an unfamiliar house, I ask myself this very question. How did I get here? Sure there is an arduous explanation that would piece together my long journey to said couch but I still feel that it doesn’t give justice. Some people hate not following their scripted plan but I love being thrown off of my beaten path. Nothing makes me happier than not knowing where I am. 

The best part about this is waking up the next morning. I know for a fact that I will wake up tomorrow in a panic and it will take me a good 37 seconds for me to retrace my steps and realize where I am. Maybe this is a sign that I am stuck in a rut and that I need to get out more. Who knows.

So what is the point of this post? Get lost. Break out of your monotony and find yourself in a place you have never been. You’ll be surprised how much you learn about yourself. 

Song of the Post: Heartbreak World by Matt Nathanson

12:50am  |   URL: http://tumblr.com/ZN46PyQg2FI
March 10, 2010
Open Letter to My Pedestrian Friends

Dear Pedestrian,

I get it. The law states that you have the right of way but does that mean you have to abandon common sense by walking out into oncoming traffic Absolutely not. You can wait a few more seconds for me to pass and then you can walk across the street. And don’t think for a second that by looking me down that it is going to make me stop. Yes, I can see you and no, I will not stop for you.

This is how it should work. If you so desire to cross a street you can take ONE step off of the sidewalk and wait for the oncoming car to pass. If the driver so chooses, they will stop and signal for the person to pass. I’m all about following the law but when it comes right down to it the person in control of the giant piece of metal should call the shots.

If you don’t agree with me then please feel free to communicate via your middle finger or my favorite raised hands/shrugged shoulders “I’m trying to make you feel guilty” look. Neither of these really phase me.

Thanks for understanding my sound logic.

Jake

PS- I will run you over…maybe. Let this stand as a semi-threat.

12:22am  |   URL: http://tumblr.com/ZN46PyQ90cl
Liked posts on Tumblr: More liked posts »