The Patriots, Georgetown, Duke, UConn, and Kristi Jo. If you think your bracket and all of your prognosticating ability was trashed, you're just stepping into my torment. From Sunday the 16th to Sunday the 23rd, several of my prominent predictions came up empty. It was rough, a seemingly endless parade of failure upon failure to see into the future. It was like taking the other exit off the freeway, thinking that if you just catch a little more than half the lights that you'll save time, only to hit every red light on the way, and get stuck behind a traffic accident. Yeah, it sucked.
I have to start chronologically, simply so I know that I got them all. On that fateful Sunday the 16th, Kristi Jo, arguably the best looking, and clearly the one who had the strongest relationship with Bret, left the show. I would say she was booted, but she was given the option to stay or go. There were two girls left without passes and Bret told her that she could stay if she wanted to, or she could go if she felt she needed to. She walked. If you would have told me that it was going to happen that way before the epsiode started, I would have asked you to leave my presence and began forgetting your existence. I had her in the final four for sure. Out of all of them, I had her going as the favorite, posting at 5-2 odds. And she bails leaving five girls to compete.
Sure, she did cause more turmoil in the house than any two other girls combined. Yes, she was married and had only told her husband that she wanted to get a divorce at the beginning of the episode... over the phone. Of course, she did spend half her time crying and the other half winning Bret's emotions. To be honest, she had all the pieces that you would need for a reality victor. Great for the ratings, fantastic for drama, and very soft on the eyes. However, she couldn't handle it all, and in what came to be ominous of the week's events, the goliath's began to fall.
Wednesday the 19th: I've spoken about my passion for this before. It is deep and it is fierce. Sleep has taken a back seat to it, and I love my sleep. It's the Gauntlet, brought to you by MTV, and it is fantastic. This season was stellar, and a changing of the guard wherein many of the standard players have hung up their respective bikini's or speedo's. But what it will be remembered for is how simply dominant the Veteran team was. They started with 16 and finished with 12, while the Rookie team was whittled down to just six for the final challenge. That's right, the Vets went 10-4. Sure that may not sound impressive, but a closer examination makes it all the more impressive. Two of those losses were intentional. One of them was because the Rookies had a distinct advantage because their numbers were depleted already (They were down 3-0 at that point). The only legit loss was the last elimination challenge. It is arguable that have six members as opposed to 13 made it easier to balance the platform, but still, the rookies did it, and I'll give them that victory as a legitimate one for them. So really, the Vets could easily have gone 12-0 in non-team size dependent challenges, and 12-2 overall. Easily. Maybe they could have gone 13-1. That's obscenely dominate in the challenge, where producers try to balance out the teams.
Heading into the final challenge, it became extremely clear that the Veterans had it all but in the bag. Unfortunately for them, the bag was not big enough for the 300+ pound Eric. How he was physically cleared to do these challenges in the first place is amazing. No really, if you saw this guy your first thought would never be, "Ooh, I want him on my team in a competition of endurance and agility." It just isn't. He's not even getting drafted. Maybe someone will let him tryout and if he's lucky get a contract on a practice squad, but he's never seeing the field.
It would be like if you saw Boomer Wells walking past the track as you were training for the Tour de France. You're not asking him what his helmet size is.
Needless to say, when the first two legs are a half mile swim and mile run, the Vets were so far behind, binoculars were needed. There were five stages, and by the time the vets got to the second, the Rookies were done with the third, and by the time the Vets finished the third, the Rooks were working on the fifth. They were that far ahead. And here's where it gets completely crazy. Eric passes out and goes into heat stroke. (In case you were wondering, that's what heat stroke looks like. Inability to visually focus, decreased mental status, muscle fatigue, loss of coordination, yeah those are the classical signs of heat stroke. Short, rapid breathing, yep, that too, and by the way, when that happens, you start looking for a stretcher. Walking, much less running, is no longer an option.) They call the ambulance, and after probably ten minutes, they take him away. The Vets rightfully think it's all over and that they'll never be able to catch the rookies, but decide to press on anyway. The kicker is that they actually catch up to the rooks, and pass them. The last stage involved raising a flag, which the vets did long before the rooks, but the horn doesn't sound indicative of victory.
No Eric, no victory. Because of an all-team-members-must-be-at-the-finish rule, the vets were de facto disqualified. The Rooks take their time, and after being pounded day in and day out by the superior Vets, they win it all and walk away with the $300K, while the Vets leave only with the shirts on their backs. Un..be..lievable. It's hard to make comparisons of this in other sports. The closest would be if Colorado actually beat Boston in the World Series because it turns out, there was some rule that you couldn't use a DH in game 7, and we all would agree that Dice-K is not an exact replacement for David Ortis. Rockies would win and everyone would leave the stadium dazed, questioning how long Rocktober will last. (Honestly, had the Rockies won, couldn't you have seen people saying that Rocktober lasted from the beginning of their winning streak all the way until the victory parade through Denver? It would have been a 45-day imaginary month, that everyone knew about. Kids would have been told all over Colorado that Rocktober was real, and this would have lead to all sort of psychological trauma. If you want to find a silver lining for the Bosox win, this is it. And maybe that it will start a backlash against the Bosox.)
If I was thinking about it all back then, I probably would have reviewed my bracket. But you don't alway realize that history is going on around you. How was I to know that the biggest reality upsets ever would be during the same week as the opening round of March Madness? (Again, it makes so much sense in hindsight, but so does voting against Mr. T) No really, who picked Western Kentucky, Davidson, and Villanova to all make it to the sweet sixteen? Did anyone even have two of them going? (If you check, the leader in all of the brackets received by ESPN had all 16 members correctly, picked, while the guy tied with him missed one of them, but got more of the earlier round correct to tie it up.) Had I seen it coming, I would have gone with Davidson getting as far as they did. The other two I still would have bounced in the first round though.
So how does the week end? Right where it began. That's right, Rock of Love. With five left, all the ugo's are gone. Well, all but Destiney. How she is still there is the definition of no news is good news. She raised her voice to Kristi Jo once, and that was quickly forgotten as KJ flew off the handle. Now, beyond that, think of any other instance where Destiney stood out from the others. Go ahead. Search VH1's database if you want. You won't find one. It doesn't exist. It's up there with, "Where the heck was Jessica the first month and a half of the show?" as the greatest enigmas of this season. (And where was she? No really, I want her to win. I like Ambre because I think she's the most level-headed, but I want Jessica to win, mostly because she's short, energetic, attractive and relatively conservative. Essentially means that she hasn't stripped before, but you take what you can get with Rock of Love contestants.)
The best looking one, now with KJ gone, is hands down Megan. This is not up for debate. She's scoring a 75-80 on every measurable. Except for intelligence. Dumb as a brick doesn't fit, because the brick will actually change a little bit to make a better fit, given enough pressure in that direction. Not Megan. She's permanently dumb. She would be the ultimate test in the "Could you date a dumb chick, even if she was smoking hot?" conundrum. The two extremes are not better unified into one person than Megan.
Needless to say, I had her as a finalist. You see where this is going already don't you? Yep, she got the boot last night. Now, even though you know how it ends, I would recommend catching the last ten minutes of the episode. Her reaction is priceless and really all you need to know about her. After she is told her time is up, she stands there, silently, slowly shaking her head. For ten minutes. To the point where everyone else starts making facial reactions to it. To the point where Bret repeats himself twice to make sure she understands. Hilarious. Remember 50-cent's reaction to Britney Spears's comback at the VMA's? Like that.
Now, I'm left to openly root for Jessica to take it all, wait anxiously for the next Real World/Road Rules challenge and hope my other three final four NCAA teams can hold on. Word.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
And I Wasted All My Time Waiting Up For You to Make Up Your Mind
So I'm sitting at this baseball game about a year back, and the girl I'm sitting next to is seeing one of the players. They aren't officially dating yet, but it seems to be heading that direction. She doesn't know much about baseball other than the uniforms make everyone look better, so she asks me what I think about the player of interest. I tell her he has a couple of strengths that will carry him for a little while, but that his biggest problem is that he performs poorly under pressure. He simply wasn't a clutch player. If he was coming up with two outs and runners on in a close game, I was heading for the concession stand to get my meal because he's making the third out. Like Willie Mays under a flyball or Lou Gehrig with the bases loaded, it was just going to happen.
Turns out, one time she was talking to him about baseball and for whatever reason, she decided to share my comments with him. Thankfully, I don't think she credited them to me, although if she wanted to, I would gladly say I was their author (I thought about this, and although it would remove some of the humor of her passing off astute observations as her own, it would make the relationship a little better. I just like to see those things work for people). It came as a shocker to her that he became visibly upset at this. She couldn't understand why telling someone that they perform horribly at their job when it matters the most would make that person upset. (Oh and future reference, telling any guy they don't perform under pressure in any circumstance is a bad idea. It's just emasculating from so many angles.)
This brings me to what I really wanted to address in the last post, but wound up laying down a challenge. I'm a free-wheeling guy. I take chances and sometimes those don't work out. I take risks that would give Mike ulcers (for all I know, him simply knowing my actions, or lack thereof, might weaken his immune system prepatory for an ulcer). But I do so with a degree of foresight and maturity that makes those choices understandable. I have come to realize that all people do not act this way, but rather still walk around the proverbial New York City with dollar bills dangling from their pockets, expecting not only that people will not take them, but that people will actually add to them. Yes, it sounds a little crazy when couched in those terms, but I've seen it.
I spent a couple days around people who seemed to live in the world, but acted like they were better than the world. It was a little arrogance, mixed with a little success, mixed with a skewed paradigm on things. Stir it together, and it becomes immaturity. It's what you feel when someone expresses a superiority complex. It's what you taste when you try and start a conversation and they have no interest in that topic, or any other you propose. It's what you hear when their talk is centered on their life and their accomplishments. And it's ugly.
I'm going to stop there. I have to catch myself from time to time and wonder how many of these things do I embody. I'm ashamed to say that I notice them in myself more than in my friends, and I know this is the truth for the most part. However, I have little doubt that if people were to ask if I were mature or immature, I would be the former and if there were to be a spectrum with mature being 80 and immature being 0, I would be upwards of 65. Good enough to make the bigs due to the high scores in other categories, but something that would be beneficial for me to improve.
What I'm getting at is, it's amazing how immaturity can completely alter the way a person is viewed. They can go from A-list to D-list in a matter of moments if immaturity is found. Obviously, we're not talking about people who are 16 or so, because for the most part, the ability, or expectation, of maturity is not there. I don't expect 13-yr-olds to be gauging how there actions will effect not just them or their friends, but other people in the area. I do expect it from anyone who has graduated high school.
Yes, we all make mistakes and sometimes say things that simply shouldn't be said. It happens. About a month back, I made a comment in a group of people that getting engaged on valentine's day was cliche. Then I made the faux pas of saying that getting engaged on New Year's Eve was cliche. Did the girl just behind the guy I was talking to just get engaged that past New Year's Eve? Of course. I quickly conceded that it might not be cliche given the right circumstances. (Side note: Under most circumstances, I still think it's a little cliche to get engaged on either of those days, but if the relationship is at the level and those events do come, you either have to propose on those days or before those days. You can't wait until after because that would ruin those holidays, as the girl is probably expecting it to come and if it doesn't, then she'll start to wonder why, and having a girl wonder about the seriousness of your relationship is never good. Ever. Ever.) The key is to make those instances happen less and less, and when they do, be quick to correct them. This is what adults do. Or at least this is what adults worth talking to do. Word.
Turns out, one time she was talking to him about baseball and for whatever reason, she decided to share my comments with him. Thankfully, I don't think she credited them to me, although if she wanted to, I would gladly say I was their author (I thought about this, and although it would remove some of the humor of her passing off astute observations as her own, it would make the relationship a little better. I just like to see those things work for people). It came as a shocker to her that he became visibly upset at this. She couldn't understand why telling someone that they perform horribly at their job when it matters the most would make that person upset. (Oh and future reference, telling any guy they don't perform under pressure in any circumstance is a bad idea. It's just emasculating from so many angles.)
This brings me to what I really wanted to address in the last post, but wound up laying down a challenge. I'm a free-wheeling guy. I take chances and sometimes those don't work out. I take risks that would give Mike ulcers (for all I know, him simply knowing my actions, or lack thereof, might weaken his immune system prepatory for an ulcer). But I do so with a degree of foresight and maturity that makes those choices understandable. I have come to realize that all people do not act this way, but rather still walk around the proverbial New York City with dollar bills dangling from their pockets, expecting not only that people will not take them, but that people will actually add to them. Yes, it sounds a little crazy when couched in those terms, but I've seen it.
I spent a couple days around people who seemed to live in the world, but acted like they were better than the world. It was a little arrogance, mixed with a little success, mixed with a skewed paradigm on things. Stir it together, and it becomes immaturity. It's what you feel when someone expresses a superiority complex. It's what you taste when you try and start a conversation and they have no interest in that topic, or any other you propose. It's what you hear when their talk is centered on their life and their accomplishments. And it's ugly.
I'm going to stop there. I have to catch myself from time to time and wonder how many of these things do I embody. I'm ashamed to say that I notice them in myself more than in my friends, and I know this is the truth for the most part. However, I have little doubt that if people were to ask if I were mature or immature, I would be the former and if there were to be a spectrum with mature being 80 and immature being 0, I would be upwards of 65. Good enough to make the bigs due to the high scores in other categories, but something that would be beneficial for me to improve.
What I'm getting at is, it's amazing how immaturity can completely alter the way a person is viewed. They can go from A-list to D-list in a matter of moments if immaturity is found. Obviously, we're not talking about people who are 16 or so, because for the most part, the ability, or expectation, of maturity is not there. I don't expect 13-yr-olds to be gauging how there actions will effect not just them or their friends, but other people in the area. I do expect it from anyone who has graduated high school.
Yes, we all make mistakes and sometimes say things that simply shouldn't be said. It happens. About a month back, I made a comment in a group of people that getting engaged on valentine's day was cliche. Then I made the faux pas of saying that getting engaged on New Year's Eve was cliche. Did the girl just behind the guy I was talking to just get engaged that past New Year's Eve? Of course. I quickly conceded that it might not be cliche given the right circumstances. (Side note: Under most circumstances, I still think it's a little cliche to get engaged on either of those days, but if the relationship is at the level and those events do come, you either have to propose on those days or before those days. You can't wait until after because that would ruin those holidays, as the girl is probably expecting it to come and if it doesn't, then she'll start to wonder why, and having a girl wonder about the seriousness of your relationship is never good. Ever. Ever.) The key is to make those instances happen less and less, and when they do, be quick to correct them. This is what adults do. Or at least this is what adults worth talking to do. Word.
They Still Goin Put Picture of My Derriere in the Magazine
It crosses all languages, resolves year long conflicts and causes more money to shift hands than the super bowl. Yes my dear friends, it is back and it will be all people talk about for at least the next week and a half. Sure, it does run three weeks, but by a week and a half, most brackets will be so toasted that you could warm your hands over their glowing embers. Oh, yes sir, it is march madness bracket time.
No sporting event brings in more of a diverse interest. I haven't held too many jobs in my days, but every one of them has had a march madness pool where everyone participates. The scary thing is, it seems that the people who know the most about college basketball do only marginally, if at all, better than those who pick teams based on the number of letters in the name (Less is more. Hmm, I'm going to fill out a bracket like this, just to see how it goes. I'm mildly scared it might work out). Sure there are myriad ways to fill out a bracket, and that's amazing in it's own right, but what gets me is how everyone you meet over the next week can be easily engaged in conversation by one of the two following questions : 1) How's your bracket? 2) Who's in your final four? I gaurantee that one, if not both of those questions will immediately incite a tone of either bravado or remorse, depending upon their level of success in the world's biggest crap shoot.
I know this, because it happened to me. I have cousins. Yeah, kind of a surprise to me as well, considering I have not seen some in over ten years. Believe me when I say that there were times when I would have to ask a date's last name, just to make sure we wouldn't have to move to Mississippi in case things worked out. There are still some that I honestly don't remember ever seeing in the flesh. I have pictures, and have met their siblings, but to be honest, I question their existence. I know what can be done with photoshop and no longer trust pictures at face value.
Traipsing through campus, I saw one of the formerly estranged relatives. We've spoken maybe ten minutes to each other total, so clearly we have a firm history. I said hi, and he replied with "Hi. Have you filled out your bracket yet?" Not kidding. Those were his first words. As they should be. With 48 hours till tip-off, (No, the play-in game does not count, although, being in the Mountain West, we have no one to blame but ourselves for this predicament as they needed to add an additional spot for the conference champion. That's why it's there, in case you were wondering) nothing is more important in the sports world than having your bracket filled and filed with some group. It trumps studying, homework and class easily. If you were wondering if I once spent an hour on a date filling out a bracket with the girl, you would be correct. (Yes I did beat her, but barely, thanks to me predicting the right national champion.) Really, if you haven't filled one out and submitted it yet, take the ten minutes to do it and submit it to me.
No really, I've decided to hold a contest. The most successful bracketologist gets lunch on me. Yep, it's out there now. I'm doing it. For those three devoted readers of this blog, you all have a shot of having me pay for your lunch. If you want to submit one, feel free via email. Considering most people fill them out online, I'll explain how to send it.
In the upper right of the keyboard, you'll find one labeled Print Screen (or possibly PRT SCR if it's an old one). This one's important. You'll need it.
Pull your bracket up onto the screen and have it fill the screen. Now press Shift+Control+Print screen. Open Word, and press Control+V. It should past the bracket nicely. Now email it to me. You should have my email if you're reading this. If not, use rickrussell239@gmail.com.
It's on. Deadling for this is 10 AM MST Thursday. That gives you 24 hours to email the bracket you filled out a while ago. The only caveat I am giving is that there needs to be at least three people submitting brackets before I put lunch on the line. I'm not just going to let Mike walk away with my money because he's the only one who actually did it.
I didn't expect this post to go this way, but there you have it, and here we are. Word.
No sporting event brings in more of a diverse interest. I haven't held too many jobs in my days, but every one of them has had a march madness pool where everyone participates. The scary thing is, it seems that the people who know the most about college basketball do only marginally, if at all, better than those who pick teams based on the number of letters in the name (Less is more. Hmm, I'm going to fill out a bracket like this, just to see how it goes. I'm mildly scared it might work out). Sure there are myriad ways to fill out a bracket, and that's amazing in it's own right, but what gets me is how everyone you meet over the next week can be easily engaged in conversation by one of the two following questions : 1) How's your bracket? 2) Who's in your final four? I gaurantee that one, if not both of those questions will immediately incite a tone of either bravado or remorse, depending upon their level of success in the world's biggest crap shoot.
I know this, because it happened to me. I have cousins. Yeah, kind of a surprise to me as well, considering I have not seen some in over ten years. Believe me when I say that there were times when I would have to ask a date's last name, just to make sure we wouldn't have to move to Mississippi in case things worked out. There are still some that I honestly don't remember ever seeing in the flesh. I have pictures, and have met their siblings, but to be honest, I question their existence. I know what can be done with photoshop and no longer trust pictures at face value.
Traipsing through campus, I saw one of the formerly estranged relatives. We've spoken maybe ten minutes to each other total, so clearly we have a firm history. I said hi, and he replied with "Hi. Have you filled out your bracket yet?" Not kidding. Those were his first words. As they should be. With 48 hours till tip-off, (No, the play-in game does not count, although, being in the Mountain West, we have no one to blame but ourselves for this predicament as they needed to add an additional spot for the conference champion. That's why it's there, in case you were wondering) nothing is more important in the sports world than having your bracket filled and filed with some group. It trumps studying, homework and class easily. If you were wondering if I once spent an hour on a date filling out a bracket with the girl, you would be correct. (Yes I did beat her, but barely, thanks to me predicting the right national champion.) Really, if you haven't filled one out and submitted it yet, take the ten minutes to do it and submit it to me.
No really, I've decided to hold a contest. The most successful bracketologist gets lunch on me. Yep, it's out there now. I'm doing it. For those three devoted readers of this blog, you all have a shot of having me pay for your lunch. If you want to submit one, feel free via email. Considering most people fill them out online, I'll explain how to send it.
In the upper right of the keyboard, you'll find one labeled Print Screen (or possibly PRT SCR if it's an old one). This one's important. You'll need it.
Pull your bracket up onto the screen and have it fill the screen. Now press Shift+Control+Print screen. Open Word, and press Control+V. It should past the bracket nicely. Now email it to me. You should have my email if you're reading this. If not, use rickrussell239@gmail.com.
It's on. Deadling for this is 10 AM MST Thursday. That gives you 24 hours to email the bracket you filled out a while ago. The only caveat I am giving is that there needs to be at least three people submitting brackets before I put lunch on the line. I'm not just going to let Mike walk away with my money because he's the only one who actually did it.
I didn't expect this post to go this way, but there you have it, and here we are. Word.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Through the Sleepless Nights and Every Endless Day
I couldn't sleep at all last night. Just when I thought I was going to slip away, I would snap back into alertness and have to restart the gradual down shift. No position was comfortable, the pillow wasn't the right consistency, nothing seemed to be working last night.
This was not, however, one of those I-can't-sleep-because-everything's-hitting-the-fan nights. this more like Christmas Eve. Maybe more like Christmas Eve when I was eleven, back before I knew 90% of what I was getting before the unwrapping. You see today is the home opener for the mighty cougars. I have been preparing for this day for the past month and finally it is here. If you were wondering if I spent the last couple days scouting out the UVSC team, you'd be correct. (For the record, I don't know how we lost to them a week ago. Just doesn't make a lot of sense, but that's why they play the games.)
Back are the evenings of two hot dogs, churro, milk duds and a large coke for dinner. Back are the nights of mild hypothermia, wondering if it's worth spending another 3.50 for my fourth cup of hot chocolate. Most importantly, back are the days of shouting at the players, coaches and umpires that displease me.
I've tried heckling at other sports. Soccer games are too fast paced for people to notice. Basketball is good, but not as predictable. Football works, but the crowds are too large for the players to really hear it. Hence, Baseball is the best of all the heckle-able sports. You sit close enough to read the time off their watches, but are allowed to scream at them really whenever you want.
I am ready.
This isn't the main reason for the posting, it's actually quite unrelated, but I would be remiss if I did not lead off with the most important item. If you asked me what I got for dinner at outback, I would have to tell you the steak, although we all know, it is the cheese fries that keeps bringing me back.
Mostly, I realized that I need four things really: Food, Baseball, Shelter and Recognition. Probably in that order. After today, the first three are met sufficiently. It's that fourth one that has fallen short. I can't be the only one of this mindset, but I feel better about myself when people remember my name, or at least remember that they once knew who I was. Conversely, when someone doesn't remember me, it perturbs me a little.
If you're reading this, you know I make impressions. They're not always good ones, but nevertheless, people typically remember meeting me. Go ahead. Remember back to your first impression of me. Yep, that happened. It sure did. I might not do that again, but for better or worse, I'll stand by what I did then. The point is, it's memorable. I'm a loud, prideful, funny guy who uses his intellect, or lack thereof to make the situation more enjoyable.
Needless to say, when I spend two evening with a girl (I was not her date, but was there on the date with her and her date both times), I expect at least for the girl to have a remembrance of me. When those two activities are 1) a monster truck rally, and 2) cooking a dinner and playing a board game, I find it near impossible for someone to forget me.
But it happened. Amazing. I'm still dumbfounded.
I see her strolling through campus, and make definite eye contact, and even begin to say hello, when she gives me the "Why are you looking at me? I don't know you and the fact that you're looking at me weirds me out a little" smile. I stopped saying hello and let my jaw dangle there for a while. This, coincidentally, is the same reaction I give when someone says they've never been to a baseball game, or that they never had pizza flavored Combo's. I'm stunned at their ignorance, and saddened by their situation.
Makes me wonder if maybe I don't make that big of an impression on people. Maybe I'm just a fly on the... oh heck no I'm not. I'm not even going to finish that sentence. That's preposterous. I'm amazing. I'm Rick Russell dang it! I do work! What is her deal, now that's a question worth asking. I will tell you this though, if it she shows up to the ball game tonight and still doesn't remember me, you really have to wonder if she has her own home lobotomy kit. I would say yes. Word.
This was not, however, one of those I-can't-sleep-because-everything's-hitting-the-fan nights. this more like Christmas Eve. Maybe more like Christmas Eve when I was eleven, back before I knew 90% of what I was getting before the unwrapping. You see today is the home opener for the mighty cougars. I have been preparing for this day for the past month and finally it is here. If you were wondering if I spent the last couple days scouting out the UVSC team, you'd be correct. (For the record, I don't know how we lost to them a week ago. Just doesn't make a lot of sense, but that's why they play the games.)
Back are the evenings of two hot dogs, churro, milk duds and a large coke for dinner. Back are the nights of mild hypothermia, wondering if it's worth spending another 3.50 for my fourth cup of hot chocolate. Most importantly, back are the days of shouting at the players, coaches and umpires that displease me.
I've tried heckling at other sports. Soccer games are too fast paced for people to notice. Basketball is good, but not as predictable. Football works, but the crowds are too large for the players to really hear it. Hence, Baseball is the best of all the heckle-able sports. You sit close enough to read the time off their watches, but are allowed to scream at them really whenever you want.
I am ready.
This isn't the main reason for the posting, it's actually quite unrelated, but I would be remiss if I did not lead off with the most important item. If you asked me what I got for dinner at outback, I would have to tell you the steak, although we all know, it is the cheese fries that keeps bringing me back.
Mostly, I realized that I need four things really: Food, Baseball, Shelter and Recognition. Probably in that order. After today, the first three are met sufficiently. It's that fourth one that has fallen short. I can't be the only one of this mindset, but I feel better about myself when people remember my name, or at least remember that they once knew who I was. Conversely, when someone doesn't remember me, it perturbs me a little.
If you're reading this, you know I make impressions. They're not always good ones, but nevertheless, people typically remember meeting me. Go ahead. Remember back to your first impression of me. Yep, that happened. It sure did. I might not do that again, but for better or worse, I'll stand by what I did then. The point is, it's memorable. I'm a loud, prideful, funny guy who uses his intellect, or lack thereof to make the situation more enjoyable.
Needless to say, when I spend two evening with a girl (I was not her date, but was there on the date with her and her date both times), I expect at least for the girl to have a remembrance of me. When those two activities are 1) a monster truck rally, and 2) cooking a dinner and playing a board game, I find it near impossible for someone to forget me.
But it happened. Amazing. I'm still dumbfounded.
I see her strolling through campus, and make definite eye contact, and even begin to say hello, when she gives me the "Why are you looking at me? I don't know you and the fact that you're looking at me weirds me out a little" smile. I stopped saying hello and let my jaw dangle there for a while. This, coincidentally, is the same reaction I give when someone says they've never been to a baseball game, or that they never had pizza flavored Combo's. I'm stunned at their ignorance, and saddened by their situation.
Makes me wonder if maybe I don't make that big of an impression on people. Maybe I'm just a fly on the... oh heck no I'm not. I'm not even going to finish that sentence. That's preposterous. I'm amazing. I'm Rick Russell dang it! I do work! What is her deal, now that's a question worth asking. I will tell you this though, if it she shows up to the ball game tonight and still doesn't remember me, you really have to wonder if she has her own home lobotomy kit. I would say yes. Word.
Friday, March 7, 2008
What Could It Be? It's a Mirage. You're Scheming On a Thing.
Driving around the other day, and Mike makes the comment: You like pop music more than anyone I know. Now, Mike knows a lot of people, probably more thanhe wants to know to be honest. So to say that I like pop music more than all of them, well it just makes me swell with pride.
I have eleven preset FM stations. Three are country, two are for the same hip-hop station, one for alternative rock (and no, Paramore does not fit that category), leaving five different stations set for pop music. Yes I love it. More than a man my age should. It's just so good, at least most of it. Granted, Mike did make his statement while I had my window down in 30 degree weather bumping "Low" by Flo Rida. I can't be the only one who does this. I certainly hope I'm not. Surely people have those songs where as soon as they hear it, their day becomes measurably better. Go ahead. Admit it. You slap the steering wheel in rhythm to Push by Matchbox 20, or rock out to the chorus of Pour Some Sugar On Me. It's ok. We all do it. Just don't tell me it's Beautiful by James Blunt. We won't be friends anymore. I hate that song. Period.
Here's what I'm thinking though. Flo Rida just released a new single. It's ok. Not that bad, but it certainly is no Low. As such, he is doomed to fade into mediocrity. It will get moderate radio play, but nothing compared to Low. In fact, Low will probably be in heavier rotation throughout the second song (Notice even I don't know it's name. That's how much it will always be overshadowed.)
What were his producer's thinking? My only thought is that they realized this was his only shot for fame. They sat around the table and said "One-hit wonder. That's his ceiling." Clearly, they hit the ceiling, with Low being feature in a prominent movie, and becoming the #1 downloaded song of all time on iTunes (Let that wash over you). So they acheived their mission. But if they at all thought, hey, he's got talent and could go for a couple years, why lead off with Low and promote it to death? Within two days, it was pretty safe to say that this time next year Flo Rida is just going to be a trivia question answer.
This happens all the time. A band comes out with a single that just kills it, and then fades away into nothing. Want a list: ChumbaWumba, New Radicals, Daniel Powter, Dream, O-Town, BBMak, The Verve Pipe. I can go on. But that is sufficient. Those have all been within the last ten years, but they're the most memorable ones.
Do record producers not realize that if they want their band to be more than a one hit wonder, they need to realize a good song first, and then follow it with a great song? It's when that second song goes big that the band gets instant credibility and staying power. Usher released You make me wanna, which was good, but then followed it up with My way, which was much better, from the same album, making him credible. You almost have to sabotage the first release to make sure the hyperactive media/public doesn't blow your success out of proportion.
I'm starting to wonder if the same is true with relationships. Maybe the first date should be good. Nothing spectacular, just barely memorable. Enough for them to say, yeah I remember that without thining about it being bad. Then on the second date, you bring your A game and leave them saying, Wow, two dates that went well, this must be a good thing. Then you've got them hooked. You have established yourself as a go-to-guy and one who performs well. The key, I guess, is being able to quickly decide if you're dating a one-hit wonder, or a perennial powerhouse. Honestly, if you can read it as a one hit wonder, maybe your better off maxing out your abilities in round one, leaving nothing in the take for the round two that likely wasn't going to happen anyway.
Just think of it if you were on the receiving end. The first date went ok. They were kind, polite and seemed like fun, but nothing exceptional. So you take the second date because you figure, the first one went fine, why not go out again. Better than playing Contra. (It's probably not better than Contra, even if it went perfect. If it ever is, go find a ring. No, seriously. If a friend calls me and said it went better than Contra, I'm getting out of bed and we're looking at rings within an hour.)
Round two happens and it's fantastic. They're charming and funny and even look/smell good. they took to a fun/nice/whatever-impresses-you place and really made you feel special. Now that person is looking terrific, and you're anticipating rounds three, four and five.
Now, what stopped them from doing date two on date one? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It's just simple strategy. Worked for the Backstreet Boys, Usher, Michael Jackson, Justin Verlander, and probably all of my married friends.
You see, I've always been releasing Low on the first date, and it just hasn't been getting me the longevity I was looking for. Is it wrong for me to tank the first round, just so I can over impress them with my normal material in the later rounds? Maybe, but if it works, I'll do it. Word.
I have eleven preset FM stations. Three are country, two are for the same hip-hop station, one for alternative rock (and no, Paramore does not fit that category), leaving five different stations set for pop music. Yes I love it. More than a man my age should. It's just so good, at least most of it. Granted, Mike did make his statement while I had my window down in 30 degree weather bumping "Low" by Flo Rida. I can't be the only one who does this. I certainly hope I'm not. Surely people have those songs where as soon as they hear it, their day becomes measurably better. Go ahead. Admit it. You slap the steering wheel in rhythm to Push by Matchbox 20, or rock out to the chorus of Pour Some Sugar On Me. It's ok. We all do it. Just don't tell me it's Beautiful by James Blunt. We won't be friends anymore. I hate that song. Period.
Here's what I'm thinking though. Flo Rida just released a new single. It's ok. Not that bad, but it certainly is no Low. As such, he is doomed to fade into mediocrity. It will get moderate radio play, but nothing compared to Low. In fact, Low will probably be in heavier rotation throughout the second song (Notice even I don't know it's name. That's how much it will always be overshadowed.)
What were his producer's thinking? My only thought is that they realized this was his only shot for fame. They sat around the table and said "One-hit wonder. That's his ceiling." Clearly, they hit the ceiling, with Low being feature in a prominent movie, and becoming the #1 downloaded song of all time on iTunes (Let that wash over you). So they acheived their mission. But if they at all thought, hey, he's got talent and could go for a couple years, why lead off with Low and promote it to death? Within two days, it was pretty safe to say that this time next year Flo Rida is just going to be a trivia question answer.
This happens all the time. A band comes out with a single that just kills it, and then fades away into nothing. Want a list: ChumbaWumba, New Radicals, Daniel Powter, Dream, O-Town, BBMak, The Verve Pipe. I can go on. But that is sufficient. Those have all been within the last ten years, but they're the most memorable ones.
Do record producers not realize that if they want their band to be more than a one hit wonder, they need to realize a good song first, and then follow it with a great song? It's when that second song goes big that the band gets instant credibility and staying power. Usher released You make me wanna, which was good, but then followed it up with My way, which was much better, from the same album, making him credible. You almost have to sabotage the first release to make sure the hyperactive media/public doesn't blow your success out of proportion.
I'm starting to wonder if the same is true with relationships. Maybe the first date should be good. Nothing spectacular, just barely memorable. Enough for them to say, yeah I remember that without thining about it being bad. Then on the second date, you bring your A game and leave them saying, Wow, two dates that went well, this must be a good thing. Then you've got them hooked. You have established yourself as a go-to-guy and one who performs well. The key, I guess, is being able to quickly decide if you're dating a one-hit wonder, or a perennial powerhouse. Honestly, if you can read it as a one hit wonder, maybe your better off maxing out your abilities in round one, leaving nothing in the take for the round two that likely wasn't going to happen anyway.
Just think of it if you were on the receiving end. The first date went ok. They were kind, polite and seemed like fun, but nothing exceptional. So you take the second date because you figure, the first one went fine, why not go out again. Better than playing Contra. (It's probably not better than Contra, even if it went perfect. If it ever is, go find a ring. No, seriously. If a friend calls me and said it went better than Contra, I'm getting out of bed and we're looking at rings within an hour.)
Round two happens and it's fantastic. They're charming and funny and even look/smell good. they took to a fun/nice/whatever-impresses-you place and really made you feel special. Now that person is looking terrific, and you're anticipating rounds three, four and five.
Now, what stopped them from doing date two on date one? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It's just simple strategy. Worked for the Backstreet Boys, Usher, Michael Jackson, Justin Verlander, and probably all of my married friends.
You see, I've always been releasing Low on the first date, and it just hasn't been getting me the longevity I was looking for. Is it wrong for me to tank the first round, just so I can over impress them with my normal material in the later rounds? Maybe, but if it works, I'll do it. Word.
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