... discuss

Another Lost night and another Royals' loss at Greinke's expense. Yup, it's a writer's block night again. While I sit here with a headache, consider the following:

Entertainment Tonight lacks any semblance of entertainment... Discuss.

National LeBrasketball Association

There's a storm coming. A media storm.

In the past, I've used this space to complain how Brett Favre's retirement waffling (the likes of which made Eggo jealous) was over-hyped. I've hit on the topic of the media's infatuation with Tim Tebow (who currently has the top-selling jersey in the NFL... What about Chris Leak?). I've even discussed the absurdity of the continual obsession of programs that dissect which Hollywood starlet made an inebriated fool of herself this week. Alas, none of these topics are going to the summer of LeBron.

You have surely heard by now that NBA superstar LeBron James is going to be a free agent once the season ends. After all, media-type folks have been talking about the possibility of him jumping to a team like the New York Knicks for the past two years. For those unfamiliar with things such as sports free agency (you mean you're actually concerned with things that really matter in life? Interesting concept...), this just means that he'll be free to sign a new contract with any team he likes.

With Mr. James up for grabs, LeBronimania has already begun to set in. The mayor of New York City, Michael Bloomberg, has already begun recruiting for his area squads, the Knicks and the New Jersey Nets. Elsewhere, rumors are swirling that James wants to play with coach John Calipari, and that whichever NBA squad hires the coach will land the Association's Most Valuable Player.

The result of all of this is going to be months of "Where is he going?" speculation. If he's seen eating pizza, is it Chicago deep dish or New York-style? Is his iPod playing "Cleveland Rocks" or "Welcome to Miami"? Does he prefer Disneyland or Disney World? No detail will go unexamined in effort to figure out where the game's biggest icon will be playing next season, and every one of those details - no matter how minute - will be reported. For the next few months you will eat and drink LeBron. You will see him when you're sleeping and won't be able to avoid him while you're awake. When you order a Big Mac, you'll be asked if you'd like to predict LeBron's destination with that. The Summer of LeBron won't go away... and free agency doesn't even officially start until July 1. If you don't like it, you better find a martian cave with a large rock to hide under, and don't forget your earplugs.

I'm not saying that LeBron's impending decision should not be considered a major story. After all, he's the best player in the NBA. He's the best player to run up and down the hardwood since another No. 23 retired (the post-sixth championship second retirement, not the the post-"I'm old and look funny in a Wizards uniform" third retirement). Whichever team he signs a contract with will become an immediate title contender. It is big news.

... I'm just not sure I need to read about it in Cat Fancy.*

*Disclaimer: The author does not have a subscription to Cat Fancy, nor is he an avid reader of the aforementioned publication.

G.I. D'oh

I caught a bit of the recent G.I. Joe motion picture on television tonight. Unfortunately, the film was about as entertaining as looking at a store-packaged action figure of Snake Eyes. I had hoped that Hollywood could make a film on the subject that would prove at least as entertaining as the time spent blowing up such action figures with Black Cats as a kid. Alas, such hopes went unfulfilled.

What makes the movie so poor? It's tough to pin such fallacies one one particular thing, but the fact that we're supposed to believe Marlon Wayans, of White Chicks and Little Man fame*, is some sort of super soldier is a good start.

*"Fame" is an awkward word to use there... Does it have an idiot cousin?

Having struck out with G.I. Joe, I'm now stuck watching the final film of the Indiana Jones series... Unfortunately, does not hold a bullwhip to the rest of the Indy films. As a result, I'm stuck needing something to cleanse my video pallet... This should do the trick:

Chris Farley - French Fries

Message to all graduates

The Writings' inspirational message to all graduating this weekend:

If modern storytelling has taught us anything, it's that - no matter how awkward you might have been as a kid - if you work really hard you can someday live out your dreams of pulling an obese man in a sled. Good luck.

Law & Oh Dear

I read today that NBC is canceling "Law & Order." It was at this time that I grew very concerned that NBC is shutting down. After all, beyond a quartet of great Thursday evening comedies and "Saturday Night Live", I'm not sure NBC airs any programming other than "Law & Order."

I've since come to understand that it is only the original "Law & Order" that is folding. The rest of your favorites will keep pumping out great new episodes, so be ready for great new programming on shows like:

- Law & Order: Special Victims Unit
- Law & Order: Criminal Intent
- Law & Order: Trial By Jury (what do you mean this was canceled five year ago?)
- Law & Order: Los Angeles (what do you mean this show doesn't start up until the fall?)
- Law & Order: Cincinnati Bengals Locker Room
- Law & Order: Prosecuting Drunken Hillbillies
- Awl & Roerd: Catering to Dyslexics
- Law & Order: You Tore the Tag Off Your Mattress
- Law & Order: Tattletale Division
- Law & Order: Broadcasting Games Without the Expressed Written Consent of Major League Baseball

The Perfect Manager

There are days when the inevitable finally happens. Today was one of those. The Kansas City Royals, standing firm in the cellar of the American League Central, fired manager Trey Hillman. Hillman was in the midst of his third season at the team's helm and had led the squad to a combined 152-207 record during that time. Basically, his teams were about as successful as squirrel doing the Lindy Hop on the interstate.

It can be argued (in undeniably convincing manner) that the Royals have not exactly put together teams with enough talent to be legitimately competitive in the Majors; that the team was doomed to fail no matter who served as manager. Nonetheless, it can also be argued (again with much conviction) that the manager isn't doing much to help his squad move toward success when he allows a shortstop who has proven to be one of the worst hitters in baseball to hit with two runners on toward the end of a tight game instead of going with a slugging first baseman as a pinch-hitter. Some say that you live and you learn... Sadly, Trey never seemed to learn, as illustrated by the fact that he never moved "The Human Windmill" Dave Owen from his spot as third base coach. Owen has caused the death of more runners than self-combustible cleats, yet Hillman never talked him into checking out what the game looked like from the dugout. In more ways than one, it's been a running joke.

Word is that Ned Yost will assume managerial duties for the rest of the season. Including those that have held interim positions, Yost marks the seventh Royals skipper in nine years. Seven new managers in nine years! The Royals pass the leadership buck more often than a lot of people go to the doctor. Is Yost the right guy for the job? Who knows. I thought Hillman might be, and have now seen how that turned out. Again, with the "talent" on the current roster, it's very possible that there may not be a "right guy." Nevertheless, that's not going to keep me from having a little fun with things.

The Perfect Manager
(performed by current members of the Royals family, to be sung to the tune of Mary Poppins' "The Perfect Nanny"... or (much more accurately) The Simpsons' "Minimum Wage Nanny.")


General Manager Dayton Moore:
If you want to be our skipper,
It helps to have connections to Chipper.*

Shortstop Mike Aviles:
It's also good to have a knowledge of sport,
and never play Yuni Betancourt.

Outfielder David DeJesus:
Don't makes us bunt in the first inning,
Convince us that you know the definition of winning.

Former Uber-prospect Alex Gordon:
Don't spend your free time finding names you can nick,
and remember I actually need to play to see if I can hit a lick.

Little-used closer Joakim Soria:
Learn to use the bullpen; pitch me in situations that won't necessarily earn a save;
Once-prospect now bench cheerleader extraordinaire Kila Ka'aihue:
And don't be afraid to bench a veteran in favor of the new wave.

Cy Young Winner Zack Greinke:
Hurry, Skipper, even great pitching rarely earns me a win,
The Human Windmill Dave Owen:
I'll do it...
All:
We'd rather eat a rusted pile of tin.


*Chipper Jones, that is. He's been an Atlanta Brave for 17 years. Dayton came to the Royals from the Braves organization and he's always seemed pretty keen on doing things "the Braves' way" and bringing in former Atlantans. It's worked out well so far... Wait, what?

ALL forms of payment?

I saw an ad today that included the line "We accept all forms of payment."

Really? ALL forms of payment?

You're saying that if I walk up to the counter with a handful of Stanley Nickels or a fist-full of Schrute Bucks, we're square?

What about Chuck E. Cheese tokens? Chocolate coins?

There's been talk in the national news lately of bartering for healthcare, so can I pay with a cornish game hen?

It seems the ad in question may need to be adjust if there are others out there like me, and I'm only getting started. Consider the following forms of payment:

- Expired coupons for Jell-O;
- Shiny rocks;
- Piggyback rides;
- Hugs;
- Verbal lashings;
- Strands of Big League Chew;
- Dirty diapers;
- "Rules of blackjack" playing cards;
- Half-eaten M&Ms;
- Video-cassette recordings of The Chevy Chase Show.

Naturally, this list is not all-inclusive. Please comment on your favorite potential forms of payment that are not mentioned above.

Lost, definitely lost

Per the strict guidelines of the Hot Lutefisk act, I must update The Writings this very evening. Unfortunately, my brain is simultaneously trying to comprehend the episode of Lost that just ended and deal with the fact that the Royals are losing 7-1 to an unbelievably mediocre Cleveland team. If you'd like your mind to feel similar, strike your spacebar repeatedly for 45 seconds... with your forehead.

While I have learned even more about smoke monsters and lousy relievers than I knew a few hours ago, I don't really feel that either item would make much of a blog topic right now. After all, as has been recently revealed, one is the embodiment of all that is evil... and the other is a character on a fictional television show. (Insert rimshot here)

After such an evening, any chance at crafting text that comes off as creative, funny, or even worthwhile is, well, lost. (And let's be honest, chances weren't that great to begin with.) Instead, I'll simply leave you with a wise proverb:

Son, if you really want something in this life, you have to work for it.
Now quiet! They're about to announce the lottery numbers.

- Homer Simpson

The Big Math-Is-Tough Conference

Rumors swirled today that the Big Ten Conference (which actually features 11 schools) had finally acted on long-discussed talks of expansion by making offers to join the conference to four new schools. Such a story is big news here in the Midwest because two of the schools rumored to be invited to the Big Ten (because apparently 11 doesn't sound good) are Big 12 members Missouri and Nebraska. Since the reports came out earlier today, representatives from Missouri and Nebraska have been busy denying that any such offers have been made. Thus, the major news of the day is really that nothing happened.

Now, I have no idea how formal offers to join a conference like the Big Ten (plus one) are actually passed around, but for some reason I can't get the image of the Big Ten Conference commissioner Jim Delany passing a note Nebraska Athletic Director Tom Osborne. The note is a quarter-sheet of wide-ruled paper torn hastily from a spiral notebook. On it is scribbled "Do you like me?" with a pair of check-boxes; one next to the word "yes," the other next to the word "no."

Yes, there are a bevy of things that will go in to a school deciding whether they want to change conferences (cough*It'sAllAboutTheMoney*cough), but I've decided that it's a lot more entertaining to equate the entire ordeal to middle school matchmaking. The following quote from Osborne, found on espn.com, does little deter my juvenile associations:

"We haven't entered into any formal talks with anybody right now. We're focusing on the Big 12. But I don’t think that
means if somebody wanted to pick up the phone and call us, that we'd
hang up on them. You listen."

Translation follows:

Espen (the inquisitive gossip that can be pretty annoying at times): Hey Herbina, would you ever go out with Big Tim (the guy from up north who is very rich, but really struggles with math)?
Herbina (a corn-fed girl who never should have fired Frank Solich... or something): No, that's a silly question. I'm going out with Bevo (the Midwestern kid who spends way too much time in Texas)... Why, did Big Tim say something about me? Did he?

Hot Lutefisk

In the life of "The Writings" a running joke* has been creating fake slogans for this very depository of incoherent thought. For example, in the course of a blog describing reasons why one might possibly have optimism about the Kansas City Royals, I could then follow with a slogan like "The Writings: Our grasp on reality is a slippery one, at best." Unfortunately, the best slogan for this blog in recent months has been, "The Writings: Featuring new content as often as reruns of 'Salute Your Shorts.'"

*Editor's note: The term "joke" can be used rather loosely when the author describes his blog... Please humor him.

It's true, my updates to this blog have been arriving about as often as family Christmas letters lately, and some of the content has been about as entertaining as Uncle Seamus' story of visiting the cider mill. This, dear reader(s), is something we at The Writings won't stand for*.

*The Writings: We prefer sitting.

There's not much of an excuse for lack of content; there are certainly topics out there. After all, the Royals are doing their best to make sure Zack Greinke won't be considered as a Cy Young candidate this year. (I'm fairly confident the award winner needs to have at least one victory.) The Chiefs are in the midst of an offseason that could actually make them a relevant team again. Lost, perhaps my favorite television program ever, is nearing it's conclusion. I even recently experienced what some might deem a "life-changing event" by changing jobs, careers, paychecks and lunch habits.

Yes, there's plenty on my mind and I've apparently just been keeping all these thoughts caged up in my head rather than unleashing them on the online world and giving others the chance to say "where the heck did that come from?"

For better or for worse (that's for you to decide), it's time to bring some of my focus back to The Writings and I'm going to do it hot lutefisk. Naturally, you have no idea what the term "hot lutefisk" means. In The Writings lore, it is now the opposite of "cold turkey." When someone drops a bad habit without any sort of transition plan, it's often referred to as quitting cold turkey. I've never understood the phase, so it's only fair that the phrase's antonym makes even less sense. Thus, I'm going to get back to blogging "hot lutefisk."

Today is May 9. In true "hot lutefisk" fashion (which exists as of May 9), I'm going to update The Writings each and every day that I'm physically able to for the next month. No matter what falls on my plate, if I have access to my laptop that day, there is going to be new content added to The Writings. It may not always make sense (nothing new) and it may not always be lengthy (also nothing new), but there will be updates. Be prepared.

Odds are, by June 9 people will be begging me to quit cold turkey.

The Writings: This should be interesting.

10 Lessons learned from a 21-month-old

1. If you're willing to jump from a moving vehicle for anything, it should be for the opportunity to play on a playground.

2. Unfortunately, child car seats are, in fact, child proof.

3. Also unfortunate is the fact that the other folks in the vehicle ignore your calls of "I need out" and "play" as you cruise by the playground.

4. Pugs love hugs... even if they squirm like they don't.

5. Spaghetti is not only delicious, but it also serves as a great clothing accessory, while the sauce serves as some pretty wicked warpaint.

6. Jumping in place is pretty fun, but even more so when you can bait everyone around you into jumping up-and-down, as well.

7. Movies are great... for 10 minutes. Then it's time to go shout at birds to keep out of the house.

8. Oranges lying in your grandparents' garden may be intended for orioles, but they still look delicious enough to repeat "nummy" several times.

9. When you do get the opportunity to finally go down a slide, the preferred method of declination should involve sliding feet first on your belly, which results in your falling over backward upon reaching the base of the slide.

10. Though the force of your slide landing combined with the discombobulation that comes with nearly completing a backward somersault would be enough to make most folks sit still for a breather, the best method of recovery is hopping to your feet immediately and sprinting back to climb to the top of the slide again.

Thought for the Night - May 1, 2010 Edition

I arrived home this evening and turned on my television to find that "How Stella Got Her Groove Back," was airing on E!* Unfortunately, I could not bring myself to watch. You see, I've never seen the prequel "The Epic Tale of How Our Heroine Stella Lost Her Groove."

*Please note that the exclamation point was used solely to properly convey the television channel on which this program aired (again "E!"). I was not THAT excited about a 2-star film with Whoopi Goldberg.

Thought for the Night - April 26 Edition

Somehow, The Writings have yet to comment on the new sandwich that is sweeping the nation*: KFC's Double Down Chicken sandwich. It's not very often that new product is made available at a fast food chain that can raise one's cholesterol simply by thinking about it, but KFC has come up with just an item.

*Is there a reason that the phrase that reflects an object or idea becoming popular throughout the United States sounds like something coined to describe Paul Bunyan's days as a custodian (after his back went bad and he could no longer swing an axe)?

With this culinary work, KFC reinvents the sandwich by removing what most folks might consider the most essential part: the bread. (Apparently yeast is too expensive these days.) Instead, the breadless wonder smothers two pieces of bacon, slices of Monterey Jack and pepper jack cheese, and something called Colonel's Sauce between two boneless filets of chicken. Some call it delicious. I call it the first step to a triple-bypass.

When it comes to this "sandwich," I have many questions.

Is it called the Double Down because of it's pair of chicken patties, or because any person that actually finishes it doubles over?

Can you really have a sandwich without bread? Are we nearing the day when a weave of french fries and onion rings wrapped in bacon is also deemed a sandwich?

What exactly is Colonel's Sauce? After all, Harland Sanders passed nearly 30 years ago. I'm not sure I'm willing to partake in any sauce he created before the Reagan era. (Sorry, but the line has to be drawn somewhere.)

Is it true that the grease dripping from just one of these sandwiches could fill an inflatable kiddie pool?


What is true is that KFC has raised the bar. Until now, folks that wanted to cheat death were limited to skydiving, sword swallowing, and going to Raiders' games. Now, all they need to do is buy a "sandwich."

It's a hit... What? Really?

Twelve games into the 2010 season, the Kansas City Royals lead Major League Baseball in batting average.

Read that again to allow it to really sink in.

With over 7-percent of the season now complete, the Royals are batting .309 as a team, which leads the Majors. Is this a fact to get worked up over? No. Because the MLB season carries on longer than most stints in Purgatory, this could prove to be a statistical oddity that is long forgotten by game 162. Is it a topic worthy of receiving in-depth examination*by The Writings? Of course.

*Translation: Pointless commentary with a chance of childish humor.

The success at the plate starts with a newcomer. Scott Podsednik - a former Mariner, Brewer, White Sock, and Rocky* - leads the Royals, the Majors, and most video game leagues with a .457 average. Should he keep that up throughout the rest of the season, he'd set some records, be subject to a number of tests for performance enhancing drugs, and possibly be attacked by Lex Luthor. Podsednik's career batting average, though, is .279. Thus, those who fall on the sane side of The Great Wall of Mental Stability have pretty solid support for the argument that he's due for some struggles.

*Typically, you don't read the singular of White Sox and Rockies.
Then again, typically writers don't amuse themselves by writing about
odd folks at Burger King.

Behind Scotty Pods*, Jose Guillen is batting .367. Unfortunately, there's little to write about Guillen. After all, he's just a 34-year old who is making $12 million this season, once got in a verbal confrontation with Royals' fans, called his own teammates "babies," played surgeon on himself, was mentioned in the Mitchell Report, told reporters "Yes, I suck," and apparently nearly died over the offseason. Oh, and he's played for 10 different Major League teams in 14 seasons... I really wish there was something to write about with this guy.

*As those who don't know him at all call him.

Joining Guillen on the "baseball years" senior citizen list is catcher Jason Kendall. Kendall, 36 (which is actually 74 in catcher years)is currently batting .348. Kendall's career average is .290, which is very respectable, but he hasn't hit .300 or better since 2004. In fact, he has not hit higher than .246 over the past three seasons.

Podsednik, Guillen and Kendall are all playing well beyond their abilities, but no performance so far has been more surprising than that of shortstop Yuniesky Betancourt. Betancourt entered Monday night batting .318. Last season, he hit .245, or approximately what Albert Pujols would hit if he was swinging a ping pong paddle. It's nice to see the guy having success at the plate, but expecting it to continue is kind of like expecting hordes of friendly leprechauns to deliver fresh-baked donuts to your home each morning. It only ends in disappointment.

Unfortunately for the Royals, the unexpected offensive superiority has not meant success. Through 12 games, Kansas City is 5-7. The struggles can be largely chalked up to struggles by KC relief pitchers. Many around Kansas City say that the Royals' bullpen is unreliable. I, however, disagree. I think they're unbelievably reliable. After all, you can rely on them to give up four runs each game.

Scraps

Sometimes, after a venture into the public setting, I'll scratch down a note of something I saw, thinking it would be good material for The Writings. Unfortunately for those who enjoy reading blogs with no semblance of a point, many of these notes end up lost and therefore unused. This Writing, dear readers, is my attempt to give these notes very poor literary treatment before they find the bottom of my trashcan. The title of each section is the note as it appears on my 8.5x11 wide-ruled sheet of paper. Enjoy.

Cowboy hat popcorn icee
This one seems pretty self-explanatory, but for those who need clarification, my brother and I noticed a gentleman sporting a cowboy had and a western vest at Target a week ago. He looked straight out of a western movie (aside from the sweatpants he wore to complete his attire), but did not appear to be shopping for anything in particular at the retail store. No, instead he was casually sitting in snack bar area, munching popcorn and sipping an Icee. No, this was not any sort of revolutionary sight, it just marked the first time I'd seen a pretend cowboy eating such menu selections in a public setting.

Favorite Flicks - Air Bud
While visiting another retail location, this one an electronic store whose name rhymes with "pest pie*," I noticed a rack of DVDs with a sign noting that the selected movies were "Favorite Flicks." Included on this rack were the films "Air Bud Spikes Back" and "Air Bud Seventh Inning Fetch." Now I love the idea of dogs playing volleyball and baseball as much as any sane person (clarification: not much) but I'm not sure anyone that would list that pair of films as their favorites should be allowed anywhere that sells DVDs. It's debatable whether they should even be allowed outside an area where they can be observed around-the-clock. Perhaps the creator of the Air Bud films now works stocking retail shelves. Honestly, that's my best guess.

*Pest pie is not for public consumption.

VG Employee - disgruntled
Same day, same store, I was walking through the video game ("VG"... see, my notes are almost discernible) department and I greeted the employee manning the area, ready to answer any questions. Unfortunately for him, I had none. Adding to this employee's unfortunate situation was the fact that there were really no other customers back there and he was growing bored. It was at this time that I made the mistake of asking him how things were going. His response went something like this (please read with a sarcastic tone to get the full effect):

"Oh, it's great. They tell me to watch video games, so I come back here to video games. There's nobody here. I just stand here bored. I'm so bored I'm reading the strategy guides. Yeah, great."

It was about this time that I said "look, Super Mario has come to life" and ran off the other way... That, or I smiled, nodded, said something like "Sounds like a good time," and stepped away with great caution, not wanting to set this guy off in an XBox-smashing frenzy.

VG kid - talks to self
Luckily, I had little time to worry about Mr. Rosy Outlook, because seconds later I encountered a kid talking to himself. While checking out the latest that the Wii has to offer, this lad was carrying on a game of verbal Pong and it seemed neither side had an advantage. "Okay, where's the new Mario. There's the new Mario. I read about this. Sounds fun... "

Chest hair @ BK
Right or wrong, in our culture showing off what one deems are his or her best assets is commonplace. Have nice teeth? You smile a lot. Have nice legs? You might put the "short" in "shorts." Six-pack abs? You jog in the park with your shirt off to make girls swoon and guys despise you. None of it is out of the ordinary.

That said, I find it odd when I encounter a guy like I did at Burger King a couple weeks ago. This guy, probably in his 50s, wore a button-down (or button-up, if you prefer) shirt. As we both stood waiting for the culinary artists behind the counter to call our order numbers and present us with nutritious feasts*, I noticed that this guy had (seemingly) purposely left a few buttons toward the top of his shirt free of their button-holes. The result was a Sherwood Forest of hair follicles on display for all to see. The question is, did this man think folks would enjoy seeing that? Was it "his look"? After all, this was before the 80-degree temperatures became commonplace in the area, meaning using the heat as an excuse was not an option. I'm not here to say that he was wrong for letting his chest breathe. He had shoes, he had a shirt**, he gets service. It just seems that, in a public dining*** atmosphere, more discretion could be used... I guess I should just be glad he wasn't working in the kitchen.

*Translation: Waited for lady behind the counter to pass us our grease-caked Whoppers and fries.

**I'll never figure out how "pants" didn't work into that equation.

***Yes, I am probably stretching it by referring to BK as a "dining atmosphere." 

From the Archives - OKC Trip

I received a reminder recently that, aside from a story on floor moppers, I hadn't posted much from a recent trip to Oklahoma City for to view the NCAA Tournament. Now it's time to work on rectifying that.

When one is driving south on I-35, there's no need to look for a sign alerting you when you cross from Kansas into Oklahoma. No, the canyon-like potholes and road-shoulders littered with shredded tires provide a welcome that no sign could. "Welcome to Oklahoma. Be kind to our roads, as we sure won't fix them... Oh yeah, if you add to our roadside collection of shredded rubber, you better have Survivorman-like skills, as cell phone coverage is as scant as Aborigines in the NBA."

The trip is a scenic one. Not only does one encounter massive billboards boasting that a rest stop has "CLEAN RESTROOMS," but - on rare occasions - you might even see a person bundled up like an eskimo, perched atop an overpass waving at passing cars.  It was like the guy had been hired to welcome folks to Alaska only to later find out he was horrendous when it came to reading maps.

At the Ford Center - the finest arena in all of downtown Oklahoma City - my brother in I took in some pretty good action. Between the dancing mascots* and the stranger jabbering next to me as if we were old roommates**, there was actually some excellent action on the court. We saw a Wildcat victory, a double-overtime thriller between BYU and Florida, and a Northern Iowa squad just days away from crushing the hopes of Jayhawks everywhere.

*It seems that, away from Kansas State University, dancing is a hobby embraced by mascots. The BYU Cougar showed off moves straight out of "Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo," and even the Florida Gator performed moves with the flair of the most ravenous death roll. Why doesn't Wille the Wildcat dance in similar fashion? Is it because it's tough just maintaining balance with such a large head? (I can support that statement.) Is it because he's confused about why he has an animal head, yet a human body? I need answers.

**A big fan of a school that I don't exactly adore sat next to me for the second pair of games. He proceeded to fill me in on his life story (unfortunately I forgot to take notes that I could refer to later when writing his unauthorized biography, titled "There's a Point in Here Somewhere."), and also ask me on multiple occasions whether my brother and I had attended the first session of games. This would not have been a strange question, except K-State played in the first session of games, and we were wearing shirts that spelled out "K-State" in pretty blatant manner. Also, the answer to the question remained the same every time he asked it: "Yes. Sure did."

Unfortunately, our weekend in OKC wrapped up early, once meteorologists decided to begin forecasting blizzards for the city. Thus, we traveled through conditions that would have made the Abominable Snowman quiver to make it home on Friday night and watched K-State's second-round victory and KU's surprising tournament exit from the comfort of Kansas. It would have been pretty memorable to have had the opportunity to view such action from the Ford Center*, but I certainly wouldn't have changed the way things turned out.

*Contrary to popular belief, the Ford Center is neither made of Fords nor is it home to Harrison Ford.

It's Madness

April 5 marks the end of March Madness.

Yes, I realize that sentence makes about as much sense as Rod Blagojevich appearing on Celebrity Apprentice, but it's true. The championship game of the NCAA Tournament, or "March Madness" as the kids call it, is currently taking place. Granted, I cannot see it at the moment, thanks to the fact that Mother Nature is wreaking havoc on some counties to the north, but I don't think things stop in Indy due to hail in Hanover.

March Madness has become quite an event in recent years. Corporations line up to sponsor it, cities line up to host it, and scalpers line up to sell tickets for absurd amounts of money... Everyone wins! (Well, everyone but those buying absurdly expensive tickets.)

It seems that everyone celebrates the the annual tournament in their own way. My favorite, however, was something I encountered on Saturday. The nearby shopping mall may not feature an abundance of stores, but it has the basics. Need a book? Head to Waldenbooks. Need a greeting card? Head to Hallmark. Need some pants? Head to Dillon's... or J.C. Penney... or Sears... or American Eagle... or Aeropostale. Need something to help embrace this silly vampire fad? Go to Hot Topic.

I'm not much of a mall shopper, but when I'm there, I always make a point to stop at the sports memorabilia/sports cards/sports frosty mugs/random sports crap no one will ever buy (Denver Broncos earmuffs? C'mon...) store. Granted, I rarely buy anything (partly because I have a hard time putting down $50 for an autograph of an old roommate), but a trip down the aisles can remind me of days long gone.

See that 1989 Topps card of Jerry Don Gleaton? Yup, I have that one. You like the 1992 Bowman card of Cliff Floyd dunking a baseball? Yes, I have that, too. It's nice to have the chance to remember the days when any money I came across after mowing, or pulling weeds, or robbing liquor stores while dressed up as the Energizer Bunny*, went toward packs of sports cards. Sure, most are no longer even worth the cardboard they were printed on, but that is beside the point. After all, if the cash hadn't gone toward sports cards, it probably would have funded my Laffy Taffy habit instead.

*Scratch that one.

Now that we're way off topic, let's get back to this NCAA Tournament celebration. Since this store deals mostly with sports, you might think any sort of promotion it would have in place would involve basketball. Perhaps they could give discounts on merchandise for the schools in the Final Four. Maybe they could offer a "buy one, get one half-off" deal on all basketball cards. If they had really wanted to draw interest, they could have brought in an obese man on a treadmill to give the store that authentic locker room smell.

Nope, instead this store chose to ignore Dr. James Naismith's invention entirely. Instead, the sign at the store's entrance read: March Madness! 30% off all knives and swords.

Yes, you read that right. The promotion using "madness" in the title offered a discount on knives and swords. After my first glance, I had to look again to see if a picture of Jack Nicholson's character from The Shining also appeared. It didn't, but it probably should have.

How does the true sportsman embrace the finest in college basketball? By swinging a machete haphazardly, of course.

Now that's madness.

There is such a thing as good grief. Just ask Charlie Brown.

Butler 63 - Kansas State 56.

The sight of that score, the thought of that game, the mere mention of the Final Four- It all still stings, like an unexpected pass caught by your nose. Two days after competing in one of the greatest games in NCAA Tournament history, the K-State Wildcats fell short in their bid to reach the Final Four for the first time since 1964. The loss wasn't an easy one to take. The Cats actually led by a point with just four minutes left in the game. As with any loss, there were decisions to question and plays to wish they could try again.

Really there seemed to be all sorts of things to regret. The loss had the author of this very blog so down that he actually boycotted sports for the next day-and-a-half. Yes, we're talking about the same blog author that has watched all seven rounds of an NFL Draft from start to finish. The same blog author who watched well-over 100 televised Royals games last year. The very same blog author that has read more books about Michael Jordan than exist in the Harry Potter series. This guy boycotted sports. Why? The Final Four was right there! They were so incredibly close! Why bother with sports if they always end in disappointment?

Thankfully, as has happened a bevy of times before, the author then realized that he was being moronic. K-State just wrapped up one of the greatest seasons in team history. They won 29 games, topped the then-No. 1 team in the nation, played in the championship game of the Big 12 Tournament and advanced to the Elite Eight in the NCAA Tournament. Jacob Pullen became on of the top players in the nation and Frank Martin was honored as the top coach in the conference. This was the season I was grieving over?

Really?

In the past 20 years I had witnessed K-State fall to the depths of the college basketball world, where prized recruits are drawn from towns like Brewster and Junction City. It's where your team loses exhibition contests to teams named after video game companies. It's where there's extreme disappointment when your team can't bring in a 7-foot volleyball player to protect the paint and where your only time on SportsCenter comes when your center commits one of the most boneheaded plays in the history of the sport. (See: Fiasco, Pasco)... As recently as five years ago, my hopes for a "successful" season hinged on the decisions made by the NIT selection committee.

The big picture point here is that I - along with many fans that continually shuffled into Bramlage Coliseum during the Asbury and Wooldridge eras - have seen some pretty rough basketball. (And by "rough," I mean horrible.) The progress made in the past four years has really been just short of incredible. The Wildcats have a very solid foundation returning next season - in essence, only losing Denis Clemente - and can expect to be a top-ranked team in 2010-2011 preseason polls. Depending on potential departures from that school down the road, K-State could even enter the season as the favorite to win the Big 12.

Will there be tough losses in the future? Absolutely. Grief that corresponds with the losses? Sure. But, considering where the program has been, it's pretty good grief.

Copyright Derek D. Larson

Wow. I say that in Elite fashion.

6 Xavier vs. 2 Kansas State Highlights



Go Cats!

A Taste of the Tourney

A trip to Oklahoma City to take in some NCAA Tournament action provided plenty of material worthy of being dissected by The Writings. This is the first of such dissections.

When you watch the tournament on television, you get a good feel for the excitement surrounding each game; the pep bands, the zany mascots, the antics of the head coaches, and every smile or grimace painted on the faces of the student-athletes are all captured in fine fashion by the television cameras. Alas, there's an important facet of the tournament that goes unnoticed by the television viewing audience. I'm talking, of course, about the lane sweepers.

Every four game minutes, there's a media timeout scheduled in college basketball. This largely serves as an opportunity for television and radio stations to broadcast the commercials of their sponsors. But, while you are stuck wondering what Luke Wilson has done to be featured on three of every four commercials aired, back at the arena the limits of child labor laws are pushed to their max. Oddly, it proves frighteningly entertaining. You see, the third graders pushing mops at the Ford Center stuck it to the man in their own fashion: they didn't pay a lick of attention to what they were doing.

Sure, when a timeout hit the floor, they'd wield their mops and towels with ninja-like readiness, but when it came to actual sweeping, well, it didn't seem to be the primary thing on their minds. A young girl pushed a mop aimlessly while apparently searching the crowd for the Jonas Brothers. Typically, the in-game mopping is limited to the free throw lanes on the court, but this girl didn't bother to limit her range, reaching the mid-court line without thinking a second thought. Her two towel-dragging partners did not fare much differently, watching the scoreboard screens rather than actually making sure they were soaking up any moisture that might have dripped onto the floor. Sure, the static graphics on the screen were exciting, but the players that hydroplaned on slick spots might have appreciated if the gallon of sweat left on the floor by modern giants had been soaked up.

If my brother and I had any sense at all, we would have begun betting on whether or not this trio would actually come close to doing their assigned jobs each timeout. It was undeniably entertaining.