They evacuated a hotel next to my office building this afternoon. Who “they” is is neither important nor interesting. It is vague intentionally, in the same way a sense of terror creeps over one’s society, festering in the shadows until called upon to wash over everything. Like a cold, wet washcloth over feverish skin. It is unsettling and uncomfortable, whether we want it to be or not.
The defense has gotten better even WITHOUT suiting this guy up. Wha!?!?
Over the course of a busy fall (one that hasn’t allowed much time for random-like observations in blog format — sorry!), I have still made the time (mostly without exception) to watch the New Orleans Saints flounder their way into an overall losing record and the worst defense in the NFL. One must have priorities, you see.
In Week 1, the course of the year was laid out for me when I saw a rookie quarterback surrounded by questionable NFL talent (“questionable” is kind, I think) decimate the Saints defense to the tune of 459 total yards, 19-of-26 passing for 320 yards with two touchdowns and no interceptions, 22 first downs, and even a shameful fourth down conversion added in for good measure (in my view, ANY fourth down conversion surrendered is shameful … it’s the kind of wasted opportunity that generally haunts your team into a loss). For my part, I gave up on that game at 27-10, choosing to spend my time at the grocery store instead.* I don’t, as a rule, do this. But two things had changed: 1.) I’m a father now, and we (fathers) run errands when we can — every opportunity to accomplish something must be cherished. Also, 2.) The Saints were putting on a display rancid enough to qualify it for the 2007 season hall of disaster.
* I expected the grocery story to be full of people who didn’t watch Saints football. I had always, incorrectly, assumed that these people actually exist within the city limits. Wrong. Instead, I encountered a ton of people just like me — Saints fans who couldn’t bear watching the atrocity on display. I felt a rare kinship as I squeezed my tomatoes and avacados in the produce section, and I now feel a great deal of comfort in knowing that those people are there when I need them.
Collin Klein will step on ye mere mortals.
In keeping with the blog post I ran last month
, I’d like to examine whether another team relevant to yours truly has decent depth or not, and that team is of course Kansas State.
I have an irrational love for my alma mater, and I do not apologize for it.*
* If you’d like a more thorough explanation as to how this came to be, feel free to buy my book, Eyeblack Odyssey (as an added bonus, I’ll love you forever).
More importantly to anyone who isn’t a fanatical homer of the boys in purple, the Wildcats are a fascinating case in their own right, fresh off a record EIGHT wins by a touchdown or less and returning basically every important cog off of that team in 2012 (with a couple of exceptions, of course).
For the longest time, I couldn’t find this old rant about Nebraska fans I had posted on my wife’s message board … until today. I did a happy dance and decided to post it here for archival purposes. If you haven’t read it yet, enjoy. Also, if you enjoy this general mentality of hating Nebraska, it is quite evident in my book, Eyeblack Odyssey. Buy a copy if you haven’t.
(Originally written Oct. 5, 2011)
To accurately describe my hatred of Nebraska is akin to asking a person in the throes of a passionate argument to settle down for a bit and while they are at it, could they please type up a reasoned response letter to an I.R.S inquiry? This is not something easily achieved. Especially not in a quick fashion. But I shall endeavor to limit myself anyway…
Today is my birthday. This was very significant. Was. As you get older, you find that it’s often just a day like any other. The realities of the world are going to interfere, whether you want them to or not. It’s a cold, hard realization when you discover that most of the world doesn’t care (you already knew this deep down, but rarely got slapped in the face by it until adulthood), and it’s up to each of us to come to terms with this. Our birthdays are just regular days, and sometimes they won’t be particularly special or wonderful. Sometimes they will be terrible. Most of us have too many of them to bat 1.000.
It wasn’t always this way for me, of course. I remember my birthday as a child as being magical and full of wonder. Getting my General Lee tricycle was a high point. As was the pool party that one year. And a bicycle another year (though that bicycle had a weird design to it that kind of made it look like a girl’s bike and I was always a little too sensitive about that in the ensuing months/years). The friends, the family, the food, the gifts. And best of all, my birthday was in the summer, which meant I never had to go to school on my birthday ever.
What more could any kid want?
So here I am, a silly man, thinking I have the ability to avoid all spoilers for this evening’s Olympics. Stupid, right? Especially for a person who both works in sports AND spends all day on the Internet.
Against all odds, I avoid any headlines. Despite there being no decorum about this thing whatsoever, Twitter doesn’t drop any bombshells on my head. And nobody on Facebook or in my circle of friends/family manages to blow anything for me either.
Surprising and amazing.
You make the call whether the Superdome keeps its old facade or not!
I loved “Choose Your Own Adventure”
books when I was a kid. And while I now understand
why my childhood librarian thought they were an abomination and why she relentlessly tried (and failed) to direct me to actual literature instead, I still can’t agree
with her: These books were cool.
So the other day I got to thinking, what if someone did the same thing with the New Orleans Saints? It would be awesome, no?
Well, that someone is me. Our story begins after the jump.