Sport and Opinion

(For those of you who find sports talk distasteful, pay no attention.)

1.  Watching the Nuggets over the past month has been painful.  For those who initially thought their poor play was not due to the absence of their coach (myself included), their first round playoff catastrophe with the Jazz has been decisive evidence to the contrary.  Regardless of who is on the floor, they are getting outworked, outplayed, out coached, and quite simply, embarrassed.

Not even our beloved Chauncey can herd these cats on the floor.  With no one to provide a calming, emotionally stable influence, the Nuggets are coming unglued.  Their failures are certainly known by the players and coaching staff, but changes have not been made.  They're simply not moving the ball, and when they do, they play careless and turn it over.  In their three losses, the Nuggets averaged 15.6 assists per game, and a loathsome 16.3 turnovers per game.  Good heavens.

And now, down 3-1 to the Jazz, good 'ol J.R. Smith offered up this gem via his Twitter account:

"You play selfish you lose selfish that's all I'm saying about the game!"

Golly J.R., thank you for enlightening us.  For the series he's shot 15-44 from the field, just in case any of you were curious.

2.  The near 24-hour NFL draft coverage this year was completely out of hand, as was the non-stop discussion of the Broncos selection of Tim Tebow.  All of the broadcasters, analysts, and irate fans really need to calm down and take a walk, have a drink, eat some cookies or something other than wring your hands at the decision.  We've now been inundated with talk of his ability, his leadership, his faith, his lack of technique, his eye black, his favorite cereal, playing in a spread offense, his work ethic, and all of his future failures.

I plan on being patient, and watching this whole thing play out, good or bad.  Because the fact is, none of those high-profile bigmouths that were smeared all over our screens during the draft coverage have any damn clue what will happen here with Mr. Tebow.  Time will tell.

And, if you happen to be curious, you should go back through some archived draft coverage to see what the "experts" had to say about the player who was drafted in the sixth round of the 2000 NFL Draft at pick number 199.

3.  The Hype Machine is already screwing with the Rockies.  Jorge De La Rosa has a torn tendon band in his middle finger, and he'll be sent to the DL for an undefined length of time.  Oh, and another starting pitcher, Jason Hammel has a strained groin and will be out for a bit.  Oh, and Chris Iannetta is being sent down to the minors to figure out what's wrong with his swing.

Damn the hype.

Flying houses and A Wrinkle

Yesterday, I moved over to the pack of tiny children working ferociously at their legos to see what new empires or fleets were being built.  The only one who acknowledged my presence was the blond one from this conversation some time ago.  He looked up and smiled and we talked about his newest creation.

Him:  Do you like my house?
Me:  I do!  Why is there no roof on this thing?  What if it rains?
Him:  He already looks irritated with me for asking such nonsense.  So I can build stuth inside it.  I'll add a roof at the end.
Me:  Ahhh, I get it.  You're not done yet.  Well, tell me about it.
Him:  Well this is my room and there's a movie theatre in it that can also play video games and my bed is right here and it's big so my dogs can sleep with me and this is the kitchen and the other TV room and this is the secret entrance where all of the weapons go for fighting the bad guys if they come up the mountain and get over the big pit and this is the other TV room with a couch right here and a chair over there.
Me:  Whoa, dude.  Take a breath.
Him:  Huh?
Me:  Nevermind.  Whatever.  What's this on the side?  A propeller?
Him:  Well, yeah.  He raises his eyebrows, cocks his head to one side and scolds me for asking another dumb question.
Me:  So, wait.  This thing can fly?  Or is this just a fan?
Him:  Oh no, it can flyyy.
Me:  This is maybe the coolest house I've ever seen.  But.
Him:  But whaaaat?
Me:  Where's the bathroom?
Him:  His eyes go wide, and he scans the place nervously.  He's frantic and looking for an answer.  It's right here.
Me:  Inside that wall?
Him:  Yes.
Me:  False.  You just made that up.
Him:  NOoooo  I didn't!  Well, then it's over here.
Me:  Under that brick?
Him:  Yeah.
Me:  No.  That's against code.  And there's no room for a terlet.  And no door.
Him:  FINE!  There is no bathroom!
Me:  So...what then?  Where do people go if the need to 'go?'
Him:  He's pissed off now and turns away.  I don't know.  They just go out the window.
Me:  Okay.  Fair enough.  Cool house, man.


He never got a roof on that thing either, in case you were wondering.

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I diverted from my original reading list and am splitting time between some of Hemingway's short stories which are remarkable, and A Wrinkle In Time by Madeleine L'Engle.   I read the book and it's sequels back in middle school, if memory serves, and I remember they left a very deep impression on me.  The first one received the Newbery Award in 1963, and it is fantastic.  Creating a story that feels so genuinely dangerous and unsettling is a testament to L'Engle's mastery of character building in only a very few pages.

At some point, I'm sure many of us read this one in school or are familiar with the name.  If it's been a while for you as well, I highly recommend a re-read of this classic.

Behind the Curtain: The Running

My dad asked, "Why the hell are you running now?"  I tried to think of an appropriate answer, but was called away by the sound of my son shrieking and slobbering on something antique that shouldn't be handled so violently.

I'm not entirely sure where this started.  Somehow, the idea of running a marathon wiggled into my mind and it became of those Things I Want To Accomplish Someday.  So, I started running with no particular goal or date or distance or time in mind.  I wanted to determine if this thing was as detestable as it was during 5:30am basketball practice.

It was entirely different.  I was doing it for me.  The solitary aspect of it was immediately soothing, and the feel of fire in my legs and lungs was no longer an enemy.  It was something to know and remember and push through.  Above it all, though, is the simple sense of accomplishment.  Finishing the run is important, and the knowledge that I'm capable of overcoming those little doubts that blossom in my head each time I'm out there makes me happy.  I've registered for my first half-marathon in mid-May, and I already know that I'll finish all 13.1 miles without incident.

Health benefits aside, running is this constantly moving place to learn and find and hear things inside me that I didn't know were there.  It is a constant journey along the roads and paths through the quiet neighborhoods and the avenues of my mind and heart, and I am enjoying it immensely.

Villainy! and more

Back by popular demand (but not really) is the next member of the Villainy! discussion.
 
Warden Samuel Norton, The Shawshank Redemption

"I believe in two things: discipline and the Bible.  Here you'll receive both.  Put your trust in the Lord; your ass belongs to me.  Welcome to Shawshank."

Somewhat overshadowed by the larger story of Andy and Red's friendship and redemption, as well as the fury and violence of Captain Hadley, the cold menace of Warden Norton was felt everywhere within the prison walls.  The audience became comfortable within the confines of Shawshank and the lives of its characters, we were immediately concerned when Norton appeared.

His puritanical vitriol and hatred of the inmates surrounding him was held fast beneath his neatly pressed shirts and suits and his polished shoes.  He moved about his world with a heavy-lidded reptilian calm which made his few outbursts feel so dangerous.  And yet, when he meted out his most harsh punishment to Andy, that of continued solitary confinement, his calm and emotionless order to Captain Hadley earned him a spot on the list:

"Give him another month to think about it."

Random Notes:

Encouraged with the knowledge that literary scholar Harold Bloom couldn't handle it his first few times through, I finished Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian some time ago.  It was my third attempt at it, and now that I'm done, I haven't been able to shake it from my mind.  It caused one nightmare and several nights of fitful sleep due to the blood and horror that accompanied the players throughout their travels.  I would see Judge Holden when I closed my eyes, and it was truly unsettling.

I moved through it, and I knew that I was only fully understanding the most superficial aspects of of it.  I could feel other themes, complex and dark beneath everything, but that top layer of character and violence was at times too thick to dig through.  Now that I've finished, I want to read it again and look deeper...it may become an obsession.

Also, I've read that a screenplay is being bandied about for this story.  That someone out there in that mystical land of Hollywood thinks Blood Meridian is something that can be translated to film is preposterous.
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Baseball season is here, and I couldn't be happier.  My beloved Rockies have been ordained by many to be the favorites in the NL West, and serious contenders for another World Series appearance.  I'm not sure if I should rejoice that "important" people in the world of baseball now feel the same way that we all do, or if I should be terrified that something calamitous is afoot due to the Hype Machine setting its sights on Coors Field...
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The half marathon happens in five weeks, and my training is progressing nicely in spite of a few minor injuries and illnesses.  I'll be ready.