My brother had a pretty big birthday this week. Here’s the email I sent him to mark the occasion:
30’s a big deal for a lot of people. It marks the passage of time or the end of childhood or the dawn of new era or some such shit. I kind of forced myself to make a thing out of it when I turned 30. But, I’m a drama queen. I like to add significance to seemingly unimportant things, just so I have something to obsess over. I don’t think you’re like that. But, even if you are, I don’t think its something you should spend too much time thinking about.
From where I stand, you’re way ahead of schedule. You’ve already done things that people twice your age could only dream of. And the best part is, you’re just getting started. The first 30 years were just prelude to what promises to be a life full of accomplishment, impact and triumph.
Bottom line, you make me proud. So, Happy Birthday. I’m glad you were born.
PS- I DIDN’T GET YOU A GIFT.
George Dohrmann takes an interesting look at the bi-products of Bobby Petrino’s douchebaggery. In this case, it’s the fact that things just got harder for women looking for jobs in major college football programs as a result of Petrino’s affair with an unqualified co-ed he hired for a job with his team. This concept reminds me of a Point After column that Phil Taylor wrote in the weeks after the Jerry Sandusky story broke. Taylor wrote that, as a result of the scandal and the questions it raises in the minds of all parents, he was no longer willing to spend any time alone with the kids he coaches in youth basketball. The risks outweigh the positives.
The 1-2 Punch by Peter King
King writes about Andrew Luck and RGIII and the Colts decision to take one over the other. Let me get this straight. Griffin’s biggest downfall is the fact that he’s an athletic, running quarterback who is able to make plays with his feet as well as his arm. Because that means he’s at greater risk of injury. And Luck’s greatest weakness is the fact that, despite his obvious individual skill, he played within his team’s offense and sacrificed individual stats because his coaches preferred to run a rush-oriented offense. Maybe I’m nuts, but it sounds like those are actually these guys’ biggest strengths.
Searching For Megatron by Jim Trotter
Receivers are tall now. Cornerbacks aren’t. OK.
A Lyric To The Little Bandbox by Steve Rushin
I’m torn by Rushin’s article about the history of Fenway. While I like the fact that he takes us through the history of Fenway’s nearly constant battle with obsolescence during it’s century in use, I really hate his continued insistence on referencing Bram Stoker, dracula and monster’s throughout. Steve Rushin is still Steve Rushin. I just don’t like his writing style.
I felt similarly about the ceremony to mark Fenway’s 100th anniversary on Thursday. As I sat and watched the legends of Boston past stream onto the field with the music from Field of Dreams playing in the background, I actually said to someone “I would probably be bawling right now, if not for the fact that I hate everyone of these Red Sox motherfuckers.”
If I had to guess, I would think Urban Meyer is a huge Bobby Petrino fan. Because as long as Petrino is around, Meyer will never be the biggest bastard in major college sports. Meyer doesn’t seem like he has a genuine bone in his body. He talks about how committed he is to his children, and yet, there’s this:
That’s Nate on the mound in the glossy photo in his dad’s office, throwing gas in some Little League game. He and Shelley moved from Florida to Ohio in mid-March, even though Nate still had two months of school. Why not wait until June?For one thing, says Urban, Nate’s new travel baseball team starts practice before then. For another, the coach admits, “I can’t go much longer without them.” He had been commuting between Gainesville and Columbus for three months. “I want ’em here.”
Urban Meyer clearly puts his son’s athletic accomplishments ahead of his school work. That’s bad parenting. Also, this article was entirely too long.
I Am Iron Man by Grant Wahl
I read this entire article. I don’t really feel like I know anything more about Brad Friedel now than I did before I started. And, considering I had never heard of Brad Friedel before I read it, that’s not good news for Grant Wahl. In soccer talk.. UNLUCKY.
When The NBA Was Young by Frank Deford
Brilliant. This is just so much fun to read. It’s an excerpt from DeFord’s upcoming memoir. That’s a book I’m definitely going to read.
Point After by Phil Taylor
Taylor writes about the possible retirement of Larry Bird. Ehhh.