A Sunday for the Ages

Today is huge. A day of momentous importance. Today is the first annual, Life Explained (#lifeexplained) Stupendous Bowl World Championship. We have been working, struggling, fighting, clawing, and even playing a little football, to reach this day. It was a season of ups, downs, highs, lows, even a few middle of the road, unexceptional, averages, even some completely sub mediocres. But, it was a quite a race, and we are left with two teams, each wanting to walk away with the crown. Each wanting to win the coveted title, each wanting to wear the coveted sash proclaiming them Miss Life Explained… Wait, hold on, that is not until next September. But, this is almost as vicious.

 
Since it is so cold outside, we are playing indoors, and since we don't have a covered stadium we are cleared out the break room. It is pretty big, not football field big, but pretty big. We had to let some of the air out of the footballs (a big thanks to friend of the blog Bill Belichick, who once said "winning isn't everything, if you're a loser" for that tip).

 
After installing some bleachers, benches for the teams, several concession stands, a lot of beer vendors (a lot), locker rooms, a press box, a stage for the half time show, luxury boxes, and a jumbotron for replays, and commercials we discovered the break room was not nearly as big as we thought. Painting the lines on the floor we realized we would have to play on a field the size of a table.  While that would make for a very high scoring game there might be an unacceptably high number of injuries to the spectators, cheerleaders, sideline reporters, camera crews, international celebrities granted passes, and custodians who were dead set against this right from the beginning and only acquiesced when given assistant coaching gigs, complete with headsets, and clipboards.

Since good custodians are almost impossible to find in this high-tech, namby pamby world of geeks and nerds we decided to cancel the game. Instead we were going to crown the Life Explained Stupendous Bowl World Championship on a series of board games. Unfortunately, nobody here knows how to play any board games, except for a few of the I.T. guys who are going to a comic book convention, and will be unavailable for the competition. They refused to lend us any of their board games after the Wine Tasting, Fantasy Football Draft fiasco.

If it hadn't been for police intervention somebody might have died. When Bob, from the infirmary stood up and tried to draft the 1^st Cavalry the place erupted. People were trying to draft increasingly lethal entities. Everybody was arguing about who would win between Spider Man, and Bat Man, who was tougher, Dracula, or Frankenstein's Monster. Several expensive, graphing calculators were destroyed when the I.T. guys leaped on the backs of the guys from accounting, because they were drinking Chardonnay right out of the bottle, which was more than they could take. After that it got crazy.

We decided playing real football might be safer, and started a league. It was a good season, and there was a lot of drama. We really didn't think the finals through very well. Next year we are headed for the Bahamas for the post season. We have reserved the biggest room on the island for the games. We are selling tickets already, if you are interested.  This year we are just going to flip a coin, but it will be televised, live.  And, they are taking bets in Las Vegas.

It isn't what you know, it's who.

Several years ago about this time of year we were on vacation.  My brother in law asked if I wanted to take part in a fantasy football league.  Heck yes, I am a guy, and I know one end of a football from the other (that does not sound quite right, but you know what I mean).  So, thinking this was my ticket to the big time I started researching.  What are the benefits of a "cover two," and how do you defend the middle of the field.  What is the best way to counter a "safety blitz" from the left side of the formation and still get your tail back into the flat as an outlet receiver?  What stadium has the best nachos in the US?  I left no internet football site unexplored.  I knew more about Andy Reid than his MD.  I was ready.  When the time came he emailed the link to my sons and me.

First thing you have to do in fantasy football; draft your team.  What!!!  I don't know anything about the best tight end, and if he hasn't been dating a Kardashian, or in a shouting match with the police, or winning some award of some kind, I have probably never heard of most players in any position.  There are so many of them.  Needless to say, I just guessed.  Well, that is OK, I will make up for my lack of player evaluations with superior coaching.

The really good part, is I have teenage sons who could help me with the parts of the league I didn't understand.  "Dad, you aren't doing it right, you are going to get slaughtered" was the extent of the help.

After two and a half months of endless days, and sleepless nights the draft ended, and I had me a pretty solid little team, built around an offensive line of impressive players.  It didn't matter that I knew nothing about any of them, or anybody else on the team.  There were enough guys, and that was the important thing.

We went into the first week feeling pretty good about our chances, me and my little team of nameless, faceless, unheard of potential superstars.  It was all decided by statistical comparisons, and my vast knowledge of spread offenses and defensive packages designed to fool even the most seasoned of quarterbacks availed me naught.

My team was destroyed.  But, there was hope, we could trade with other "coaches."  Nobody would answer my emails.  It was like high school all over again.  Only with email.

Soon, my players began faking injuries.  It was an epidemic of artificial agony that swept through the NFL.  Real NFL players were acting hurt just to avoid being on my fantasy team.

Out of 12 teams I finished 15th.  The NFL sent me a "cease and desist order" and every time I drive through the small community where my sister and brother in law live people line the streets to take my picture.  I am kind of a celebrity.

Ode to Spring.

Spring is coming, pollen, allergens, hay fever, runny noses, watery itchy eyes, lawn treatments, yard work, mowers, edgers, trimmers, rakes, shovels, sweat, back breaking labor, torrential rain storms, flooding, and tornadoes.  But, that really isn't the bad part, the bad part is entering into what many experts call the "televised sports desert."

Soon the Stupendous Bowl will be over. Of course, we can not forget about the NFL draft, this year there is a rumor that some team is going to pick some guy who played football in college and pay him enough money to end the federal deficit. Hoping, against all odds, that he will not get hurt when some huge guy runs into him as fast and as hard as he can, or not be able to play at the level expected and turn into a huge waste of corporate cash.

Watching the NFL draft is similar to watch a city council meeting, without the excitement.  There is some pleasure, though, watching grown men, standing around at work, macho, manly and filled with testosterone, sounding like teenage girls, "I hope my team drafts that running back from Northern Arkansas, he is so dreamy.  Wouldn't that be a huge slice of wonderful!"

Oh, and the NBA playoffs, they start soon, or started recently, or have been going on for the last several years.  Recently, the NBA decided that people enjoyed playoff series more than regular season games, in an effort to squeeze every dime possible from their fans, they expanded the playoffs, (soon they are going to replace the regular season with a and use a reality televison style panel of judges to determine playoff seedings) now the post season lasts longer than Prohibition, and makes less sense.

There is another "sport," it is called hockey.  While most Americans have trouble enjoying hockey, a foreign sport with vaguely European origins, there is a rabid, vocal, group of hardcore, dedicated fans.  But, science is working feverishly on a cure.  When given the opportunity, please donate freely to this worthy cause.  We are all in this together.

What about baseball?  People have long said baseball is a thinking man's game.  That is probably true, baseball players certainly have plenty of time to think, standing out there, waiting for something, anything to happen.  Maybe they are thinking what an average little league player thinks while standing, way out there in the vast, indifferent, alien landscape of the outfield.  "Please, God, don't let them hit it to me!  Anywhere but here."  Remember the old saying, "there are no atheists in the outfield."  True, so true.

So, what is the point of all this, we have sadly run out of time today.  Please tune in next week when we discuss the similarities between Coach Rick Pitino and your dependable, steady, resolute blogger, and why he should provide free tickets to a couple of Louisville Cardinal basketball games next season.