Week Two of The Leak: Manny gets selfish, June harbors ill-feelings in Chi-Town, a real ‘nut job’ at the Bee and the government’s sexual guide to getting rich quick
The Brain Leak
(Week of 5/27/08 - 6/1/08)
Due to the overwhelming response to the first ever Leak (which was in the form of one rather interpersonal nonetheless appreciated comment by the esteemed Mr. Den Cotton), I have decided to go against what may prove to be my better judgment and produce a second edition, therefore defying the harsh remarks of the oh-so silent majority that suggest I should stop wasting everybody’s time.
Manny’s not spelled with an “I” (but maybe it should be)….
Seconds after hitting his hallmark 500th home run Saturday night at Camden Yards in Baltimore, Red Sox outfielder Manny Ramirez strutted with a gait that suggested the 499 he had hit previously were merely a figment of our imaginations. The self-righteous Ramirez may as well have stood with hands on hips at home plate while observing the flight of the historic home run ball. Hands lifted over his head (a celebratory mechanism I’m certain we are all sick of by now), Man-I then began his slow, gradual levitation down the first baseline, basking in the fuzzy glow of thousands of shutterbugs’ efforts to capture the luke-warm moment on celluloid, or maybe memory stick. Fifteen minutes and a vile display of self-love later, Ram-I-rez finally made it official by forcing home plate to kiss his feet.
Soon after, the earth shook, the seas parted, locusts reined down and ESPN was there to give us live look-ins and all the analysis and stomach-churning replays we could sanely handle.
Man-I is a good hitter–not player but hitter. While he could use some seasoning at the Midget League level to help improve his fielding, God’s gift to dreadlocks has always been able to hit; there’s no denying that. And there’s also no denying that he has absolutely no problem letting people know that he’s a good hitter. Manny Ramirez is an animated, poor man’s version of Barry Bonds–just as arrogant but with far less controversial fanfare.
My problem is this: Why should we be subjected to the media’s ensuing salacious affair with the moment? Nevermind…I know the answer. So, then the real question is this: Why are we surprised that such “garbage” gets top billing when every national sports network starts off their nightly broadcasts with some form of Red Sox Review (or Yankees Today if the Sox are idle). I suppose the answer is that we are not.
When I say “media,” I mean ESPN. With Red Sox Nation gaining more and more strength from suckling on the Eastern Seaboard Prejudice Network’s power teat, the ever-decreasing number known as ‘the rest of us’ is becoming increasingly alienated by the fact that a nationwide media outlet has some serious man-love for a player whose appreciation for the game goes only as far as his combination of humanity and apparent divinity will allow.
But, hey, this is all very unavoidable, so why fight it…death, taxes, higher gas prices and Manny Being Manny.
Henry household improves Bush approval rating…
Only in America can you have nine illegitimate children with nine different women and yet get financially reimbursed for such promiscuity. It’s as if Broncos running back Travis Henry saw this recession coming years ago. And now he is gleefully receiving cash hand over fist from a government that is presumably advocating to our country’s young people that it’s actually profitable to sleep around. Hell, if you’re proficient enough in the sack, maybe your sexual exploits will be able to pay for that car you’ve always wanted when the next tragic economic downturn occurs. What’d ya say, kids?
Beware of The Swoon…
Ah, 1908–America engaged in a war, new technology popping up everywhere, the Cubs in first place. You know, things really weren’t all that different a century ago. The last time the Lovable Losers found themselves in this unfamiliar position this late into the season, they rode it all the way to a World Series title. Find me one person still living today who was around to actually comprehend that memorable 1908 season, and I’ll show you one depressed North Side resident. Cubs fans have been intermittently teased with promising starts here, a feel-good winning streak there, only to have the whole thing come crashing down under the weight of the franchise’s own oppressive and imminent mediocrity.
And a staple in a large number of those struggles has been a horrid month of June. In fact, it seems as if the official ushering in of summer has posed problems for even the most successful of Cubs teams. And if you think I am biased because I am from St. Louis, consider the facts.
According to Baseball Reference (www.baseball-reference.com), four out of the last five Cubs teams to reach the postseason–either as the division champ or wild card recipient–have endured harsh Junes, with the exception being 2007. The forgettable season of 2003 (12-15, .444 winning pct. in June) was the last instance in which the Cubs nearly fumbled away their chances amidst the hot Midwest temperatures. The others: 1998 (Wild Card, 12-15, .444), 1989 (Division champs, 13-15, .464). Even when Chicago managed a record above .500 in June during an eventual playoff campaign, it was by far their worst month of the season, as was the case in their division-winning year of 1984 (15-14, .517).
I am not saying this Cubs team will fold. I’m not suggesting they will even come close to it, for it seems as if this team will continue to score runs and compensate for its lack of starting pitching depth. But it’s strange and rather disconcerting when you read reports such as this early May piece that prematurely laments the historical effects of the June Swoon on this season’s team.
If only our spelling bees were that easy growing up…
“Oh! NUMNAH…,” 13 year-old spelling prodigy Sameer Mishra exclaimed, under a heavy sigh of relief. Moments after confusing a commonplace sheepskin pad used in horseback riding for a term usually reserved for one’s fellow pre-puberty buddies, the West Lafayette, Indiana native recovered nicely to breeze through the remaining rounds of the 81st Scripps Nationals Spelling Bee and capture the title, a feat his elder sibling failed to achieve in her three attempts. “Nice going, sis–you loser!”
Receiving accolades and prizes far outweighing the stupid candy we once aspired to win in our bees as children, Mishra rose above the multitude of future specialized medical practitioners to nab a whopping $40,000 and, in the process, put people up to three times his age across the country to shame. His remarkable triumph was accentuated by the fact he inexplicably misspelled the everyday word “sudation” (I could not find it in the dictionary) in the preliminary round before turning on the juice.
Now that the family name is no longer synonymous with failure, the newly-crowned champion hopes to one day follow in the footsteps of his sister, who was accepted to Princeton the same day and plans on majoring in leisure studies.
Way to shoot for the stars, NUMNUT!
Confusion under fire…
My recent post “The Top 12 Sexiest Female Sideline Reporters” seems to have caused some hullabaloo that suggests I may, indeed, be the ‘sexiest’ idiot around, although I’m sure the correct term would be ‘sexist’. And I’m not sure why.
Sexist is hardly the term I would choose to use in describing the tone of that particular article, especially considering I went to great lengths to research the information and focused on each woman’s occupational accomplishments. They may be accomplishments aided in part by beauty; however they are amazing achievements nonetheless. But no one ever said that a killer set of womanly curves hampered an attempt to successfully seduce a male-dominated sports culture.
To tip the scales, so to speak, I’d be willing to accept suggestions for a Top 10 Fattest NFL Linemen list or, if you really want to get down to the nitty gritty, a rundown of professional sports’ biggest mamma’s boys.
I leave you with this, which has regrettably become an all-too familiar societal lynchpin that is slowly and steadily demasculating the red-blooded Amercian man. So the next time you feel even tempted to call me a sexist pig, recall the lesson you have learned here today and beg for mercy.
Tags: 1908, Chicago Cubs, douchebags, economic stimuli, ESPN, George Bush, high gas prices, illegitimate children, June, Princeton, Red Sox Nation, Scripps National Spelling Bee, sexual promiscuity, swoon, Travis Henry, U.S. government, unprotected sex, wedlock