What's Time Got to do With It?

Okay, so seven years ago I started writing an NFL picks column for what I am sure is now-defunct school website. It was smart. It was funny. It was fantastic. It was a complete rip off from Bill Simmons and what he does with ESPN. So sue me. Actually, please don’t.

Anyways, in seven years I’d like to think I’ve grown past the snide comments, immaturely poking fun at other people, and mass hysterics of my hometown team losing. But at 27 all those things still sound like a miraculously fun way to spend a Friday night, and I really haven’t enjoyed much by way of my hometown team winning since I was 20, so where is there really to turn?

I could try vodka but I’m not the biggest of fans. I could try beer but if I needed to drown my sorrows in something it better not taste a whole lot like feet. I could try bourbon but then I’d only get angry, unleash my inner Scot, and pick a fight with something. Where do I turn? That’s right, The West Wing.

Yes a television show that ran for eight years and depicted a White House that stood for all the things that I hate. So why watch? Because of Aaron Sorkin.

You see, only Sorkin can whip up a banter-istic lather complete with prose and poetry and wit to make the Gilmore Girls cry for mommy. This is the show to end all shows as far as I’m concerned. The cure for all that ills. The thing that could stop impending doom. The Milla Jovovich of television shows. (What, no one gets mildly entertaining - intended to be replayed over and over by TNT* – Sci-Fi Bruce Willis movie references? What has this world come to?)

*Speaking of being overplayed by TNT, it’s been many a year since I’ve had a special rant about the fantastic joy that overcomes me when I flip through to see Top Gun being shown on cable. It’s as if TG, and Tom The Smile, know when I’m feeling blue and swoop in to pick me up. He can do no wrong my Tommy McNugget. But what I don’t understand is how these movies – A Few Good Men, TG, Men in Black, etc. – are always on the same scene every time I happen by them. How does this happen? There must be an answer.

So after watching a couple episodes from Season 2 of TWW today, the juices started flowing. Could it be…a reemergence of my long lost snark?

You’re flingin-flangin right it is!

On to the picks…

Green Bay over CLEVELAND

Aaron Rodgers gets hit more than a drunken Irishman at an Italian bar. (What? I was going to say more than Rhianna. Aren’t you glad I didn’t?) But that doesn’t matter because the Browns have been irrelevant for awhile now to the point that the city is only recognized as “hey, isn’t that the city Drew Carey is from?” Ouch.

HOUSTON over San Francisco

The ultimate in Jekyll and Hyde football teams, the Houston one-week-we-suck-the-next-week-we’re-good Texans are the hardest team to figure out in the NFL. But I like the idea of them at home, and, well, that’s really all I got. I don’t feel good about that. Stop looking at me. What?

KANSAS CITY over San Diego

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Sorry I was just waiting for you to stop laughing or rolling your eyes. I’ll wait. No seriously go ahead. You done? Okay listen, the Chiefs as a franchise had just two wins in their last 30 games, lost nine games in a row, have the worst rated defense in the NFL in terms of yardage, and have not had a rushing touchdown since I was clean shaven. All of those facts however do not add up to being as embarrassing and horrendous a thought as this one: Norv Turner, Head Coach.

INDIANAPOLIS over St. Louis

Peyton. Manning. Is. Really. Really. Good. Next.

NEW ENGLAND over Tampa Bay

Tampa. Bay. Is. Really. Really. Bad.

(This game is being played in London and, I gotta say, that’s the most ridiculous thing I think I’ve ever heard. What’s next? Games in Mexico City? Major League Baseball in Japan? NBA in China? These things should never happen. Just doesn’t make any sense.)

Minnesota over PITTSBURGH

I don’t know why I’m doing this. I really don’t. Nothing about this game seems right to me. It’s in Pittsburgh. It’s a Dick LeBeau defense against a mistake prone quarterback. It’s a terrible kicking environment. But, and that’s a big but (don’t you hate it when announcers say that), if it comes down to which quarterback makes the most plays, I’m taking Favre. I know, I know. My inner 12-year-old still loves him like the last two years haven’t happened, and I need to ignore that feeling with Favre in his current state. But something about Ben Roethlisberger just scares me. And I’m a Chiefs fan so watching Jared Allen get 14 sacks a game makes me all giddy like a school girl.

CAROLINA over Buffalo

You know when you’re watching two bad teams, no matter the sport, play against each other and there’s constant mistakes, guys out of position, miscommunication, tons of penalties, but the game is close until the very end and the announcers say the obligatory “we’re watching one heckuva (insert sport) game today!” line? That’s what it’s like watching Big 10 football, National League baseball, Soccer, and Carolina versus Buffalo. Mark it down. It will be said.

NY Jets over OAKLAND

I really just can’t do it. I honestly think the Raiders have a chance in this game because Mark Sanchez has been sooo* bad the last three weeks and Oakland has a really good defense. But I can’t. Why? JaMarcus Russell, QB, LSU. He’s bad. Really bad. And I don’t want to hear “he really showed signs last week…” Doesn’t matter. Dude stinks something awful. I cannot pick them until a new quarterback is taking snaps for the Silver and Black.

Ever notice how people have no idea how to stress sounds in words when they’re spelling them? Like people will write, “I hateeeeeeeeeee mushrooms” or “there is no wayyyyyyyyyyy you’re getting my number. How annoying is this? That is not all how those sounds should be spelled. When stresses how much you hate something its “haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate.” The “a” sound is the part of the word being stressed not the “e.” No one says “I hat-eeeeeeeeeeeeeee mushrooms.” My girlfriend does this…yeah, I’ll shut up.

CINCINATTI over Chicago

They just lost last week at home to the Texans so there’s no earthly reason I should pick them except its Jay Cutler, on the road. Capable of throwing for 400 yards and three touchdowns? Sure. But also capable of laying on gigantic stink-bomb.

ATLANTA over Dallas

See reason for picking the Chiefs above and insert “Phillips, Wade.”

NEW ORLEANS over Miami

Another trap game that I’m almost positive I’ll get wrong, but I’m riding this horse until it proves to me I shouldn’t any more. Drew Brees throws left. Drew Brees throws right. Drew Brees throws deep. Drew Brees throws short. You seeing a pattern?

NY GIANTS over Arizona

I read somewhere yesterday that some experts were worried that Eli may not be able to handle the wind and the cold in the Meadowlands, so they were picking Arizona. WHAT? Did something happen to Kurt Warner? You know, the guy that wears gloves when it’s 80 DEGREES AND SUNNY? And we’re supposed to be worried about Eli? Yeah, okay, so when the third quarter rolls around and KurtandBrenda, yes he and his wife are one now, have fumbled at least twice, I’ll be the one over here saying I told you so.

PHILADELPHIA over Washington

Any time your head coach contemplates quitting and your owner hires a guy that was calling out BINGO numbers at a retirement home to take some of his responsibilities, I’m thinking that’s not so fantastic of a sign.

Year Record: 67-23

Til' Next Time...

Oh Those Pesky Royals'

Leave it up to a non-baseball traditionalist to title a blog by using a very baseball traditional adjective. (Next up, hustle)

But since I've been in California for a month now, and haven't been subjected to the laugh-factory that is Kansas City Royals' baseball, I must say my life has been a little more enjoyable.

Oh those KC summer nights. Filled with bad baserunning, bad defense, bad plate-discpline, bad managing, BAD general managing, and a host of other second-rate organizational happenings (port-a-johns included with your $250M in renovations!) have not been missed by this life-long Royals supporter.

But because the kool-aid drinkers refuse to let this organization know how intolerable their performance has been for, well, the past 25 years, the Glassians keep circling into the abyss awaiting for the magic to happen.

And waiting.

While some may enjoy the old college try being given by the front office of a franchise that should be, and at one time was, the face of a region, it is inexcusable the amount of ineptness that radiates from our brand new, 40-year-old stadium. And unfortunately it has been this way for so long, it has become common place. It's the familiar tune at the end of an all too familiar sad country song.

(Kind of like how, at the end of a country video, they do that weird "last note strummed on the guitar fading - slow motion look into the camera." Is there a rule that this had to be done to end every country music video? Seriously. Is there like a union that is on-set for every video to make sure this goes down? If so, these people need to be seriously investigated for the "don't get-its." Coincidentally the same affliction plaguing Dayton Moore.)

At the heart of me I wish things were different. A baseball team is what's supposed to unite a father and a son. However this franchise has become so sad that after being a punchline for a decade, it has now faded into the darkness of irrelevance.

And so it's this I suppose that is the most disheartening fact of all. It used to be that Baseball Tonight, or hell even the Tonight Show, would make a snide comment about how futile our Boys-In-Blue were. No longer.

Punchlines have turned to apathy. The Royals' are the sad story heard too often, without change, that no one wants to read anymore.

How did we get here? How did we get to this day? Three years ago was supposed to be the Awakening. Allard Baird, a seemingly very honorable and respected baseball mind, (so respected that it took him 3 seconds to be offered a job with baseball's best franchise after being let-go be this one) was run-out of town because of his depletion of the organization. Come to find out, it really wasn't Baird's inability as much as it was David Glass' pride that lead to his demise.

For years Glass tried hard to change a slightly, slightly, flawed system instead of trying to win it. A feat that left his organization what it is today. It took Glass to finally give up his charge (kind of hard for the man running the biggest organization in the world to tell others that a system is broken just because he happens to be losing in it) and realize that it was he that needed to change, not the system.

So he hired Dayton Moore. We all felt saved. He was the man that would come home, and bring us back to the glory years. This once proud and great franchise was to be again.

Sigh.

In three years Moore has done more to disprove his candidacy than to prove it. There have been positive steps taken along the way towards a better future, but they have been few and far between. (And really, those things that he's given credit for, are really more the result of Glass' money, than his ability to run a franchise. Increased spending in free agency. Increased budget for the draft. Money given for more scouts. An academy in the Dominican Republic. Bigger budget for a larger front-office. These things don't add up to be a testament to Moore's rights, they add up to be an "attaboy" to Glass finally getting it.)

The biggest problem with baseball is its inability, as a system, to evolve with the eras. Other sports do it. Football coaches are always trying to find new ways to win. The Wildcat formation. The 3-4. The Cover 2. The Shotgun. Tight-ends as receivers. 5 receiver sets. All of these things were against the grain of traditional footbal thinking that, if they were considered in baseball, they would have been laughed at and considered foolish.

It’s much the reason Billy Beane was so admonished and ridiculed for taking the status quo, and throwing it out the window. It’s not what you see; it’s what you can prove. It’s not about all the old guard stats like batting average, or pitcher’s wins, or RBIs. It’s about statistics that determine the true value and abilities of a hitter with the abstract factors like on-base percentage and ERA. Beane was a progressive thinker in a highly unprogressive environment; an environment that shuns the different and applauds the familiar. To its detriment.

And for Royals’ fans we’re stuck with a status-quo thinker. A man who doesn’t value on-base percentage. A man who doesn’t even know what defensive statistics are let alone how they’re figured.

It’s an evolving game and Moore’s just, volving.

And we just got stuck with 4 more years of it.

Here's to a New Chapter - Fruity Drink Style

Well the time has come for this 20-something ex so-and-so to move on to a different chapter in his life. For followers of my writing - yes, you and you - this is the new, and hopefully improved Scobes with the flair of the Left coast. Like Conan I'm taking my act West; for a girl, for me, for my future, for my kids.

I'd like to think the cynicism is now completely gone from my being, but my aura still stings of a life spent cheering for the Royals'. A curse that's been emotional, intellectual, but hopefully not any day soon, literal. And for the one's that like the snarky, snippy, old guy I used to be, I'm sure we can find a few things to be annoyed about:

So you're telling me the Royals' traded for a guy that was regarded as the worst everyday player in baseball, told us everyone was wrong and that a change of scenery would be the cure to what ails his crappy-ness, and he's proceeded to be EVEN WORSE than he was before? What's worse than the worst? We need a phrase, or a word, or some way of describing this awfulness. He's Hades? He's crap on a stick? He's Nicholas Cage?

Artificial echoing in musical acts is dumb.

Dwayne Bowe is running with the second team. Glenn Dorsey may or may not have two knees. Tyson Jackson just signed for $30M to "take on blocks." JaMarcus Russell is 300 pounds and hasn't learned that the guys wearing the other uniforms or the bad guys. Just goes to show you a bunch of athletes can run around and win games, doesn't mean they can play football. Oh, and Les Miles is a terrible coach.

And I think I just had to pay royalties cause I typed "football." You notice how broadcasters never referring to someone in the NFL - I'm sorry, the NATIONAL FOOTBALL LEAGUE - as merely "players?" They're "football players." Just like: "football game" "football play" "football pass" "football run"

I'll pretend remorse if you're going to pay me $1.5M. Not a problem.

I like the little moments in between songs at concerts the lead singer somberly, and rasperly, speaks about where he was when he wrote the next song. It makes me feel like he's talking to me.

Do veneers on actors freak anyone else out?

Can golf etiquette include people over 60 not being allowed to tee off after 8 a.m.? I'm just saying. They're up at 4, this shouldn't be a problem. And they're out of the normal folks way by mid-morning.

Mexican people aren't nearly as annoying once you're around them a lot. I just pretend they're ducks, or birds, flocking around a park. You don't understand the sounds they're making, sometimes you try and mimick those sounds, and sometimes, they're cute.

Til' next time.

It's Nights Like These...

It's nights like these that kill the most. The nights when my hands get so cold out of nervousness I can barely write. The shaking, the chest pounding, the sweaty palms, the fear that my mind will race off the deep end in thought, all because of how scared I can be around you.

It shouldn't be this way you know. I'm supposed to be a man; men are supposed to have strength beyond reproach and be able to sepearate those things that make him feel less so. That's what they'll all have you believe. Or want you to believe. Or want you to feel. Or at the very least, the way they all want you to comform because that's just how it's supposed to be.

But its nights like these, when the conversation flows with ease, the jokes come with the stroke of a Neil Simon play, and the thoughts come racing back. I'm supposed to be a man so these things shouldn't consume me; but they do.

The mistakes of a past not soon forgotten have led me to this place, this time, this state. The ever evolving regret washes from one side to the other like water in a oblong bowl. Anger and contempt for you subsides to overwhelming hatred I have for myself over things gone wrong and time wasted; and back again. The internal struggle of a shattered mind and withering heart can't contain the measure of my sorrow for the pain I've inflicted. Or the pain I've felt.

It's nights like these that cloud the mind. The foggying nature of my thoughts make it unclear to even myself what needs to be done. The heart knows. But as is the case of a lifetime spent rethinking something - everything - my mind shouts down the better angels in my soul. Foolish mind.

Men would be good to think with their hearts. For one moment in a lifetime it could mean the difference between a few heartbeats of true happiness, and all of them. For one moment the heart could cease those opportunities we don't often get the chance to grab ahold of. For one moment, all things that were done wrong, could be set right again.

It's nights like these that hurt the most. When the lights are off, the music stops playing, and only the thoughts are to keep me company. It's nights like these those better angels of who I want to be, are being shouted down by the demons in my head. A fight too often lost by the good guys. By me. Just once I'd like to be able to take control of what I know is right, pull it alongside me, and use it as the driving force to finish this puzzle that has yet to be finished.

It's nights like these when I realize among the whispering silences, I can't go back to the things been done. Mistakes have been made, words have been spoken, and tears have been shed. I can't go back to the things been done. The angels weep to hold their strength, but the regret consumes them as well. They long to fight another day to save what once was, but they know they can't do enough. The demons have won with their choices, their actions.

It's nights like these, I realize the finishing piece to the puzzle, is gone.

Til' next time.

As the Day Turn Into, Well, Another

Baseball is finally back in our lives and boy-howdy how we've missed it. Okay maybe not "we" as a collective so much are excited as the "we" in terms of just myself.



Incidentally isn't it strange how people can be referred to in a plural setting, when they are actually in a singular setting? "Aren't we happy today." "She's good people." I mean really, what's that about? Isn't language fun and altogether confusing? Good luck youth of America, you have no hope. The next step is to be a true journalist and just start making up words. Cause, well, why not?



The first spring training games were played today surrounded by much anticipation by Royals' fans. "Hey we'll be good this year!"



Congrats on your 12-7 loss.



"Rats."



It's okay though because Alex Rodriguez hit a home run, refused to comment on the steroids issue again, walked out of the clubhouse with his cousin whom he threw under the bus - which quickly thereafter cousins' wife tried to pull out from under - and switched countries to the Dominican Republic. Let me be the first: hey Alex, bite me. Er, us. The United States. Ah screw it, here's the "ol' number one."

As one of those people that's always liked A-Rod for what he is, the greatest player I've ever seen live (of course next to my man crush on, one, Carlos Beltran. It was from my early years. You never forget your first love...) it crushes me to see the game soiled like it has.

Ha. Almost kept a straight face. The whole thing borders on the ridiculous considering I'm completely under the impression that most every MLBer was on steroids at one time or another. Which I suppose is the indictment of the entire system - and one that so laughably was defended by Commish Selig a few weeks ago - that nobody believes anything anymore.

Disgust breeds apathy. Right, wrong, or whatever, that's the current state of baseball. Do I care A-Rod took steroids? Nope. Why not? I stopped caring. The game has become irrelevant to the masses, and was so before the Steroid Era, and then it just started to piss people off.

Good work MLB PR department.

Crack...crowd roars while voice-over exclaims..."Hey MLB fans! All mad the NFL is over and you don't have their superior product to watch? Are you so angry over the overspending of owners that turn around and complain about the economic unfairness in our game, you know, the one they created? Are you so sure we're handing out PEDs at the gates you're positive you'll have a mood swing before you take your seat? Then are you gonna love us this year"...

Major League Baseball, swinging back into action in a town near you!

Til' next time.