Mister Faded Glory | misterfadedglory.com

Well, I realize I’ve only been on the job a week or so now.

However, I’m taking a break to recharge my batteries, traveling with Ms. Faded Glory to the San Francisco Bay Area for nine days of relaxation, Giants baseball, touristy stuff, drunkenness, et cetera, et cetera.

Estimated time of return: Monday, May 10.

But, I’ll leave you with a Song of the Weak and A Few Things to Watch.
SOTW: Nickelback, assorted tunes. Anything by this faux-rock band is just wretched. My office radio can only pick up one station in my cubie/corner/office, and no less than four times a day am I greeted with “Someday, somehow, I’m gonna make it all right, it’s not all right now.”
Second-grade poetry, we hardly knew ye. I want my nickel back. (You knew it was coming.)

Five things to watch:

1. Cubs/Cards in St. Louis at Busch: Four games between the most intense rivals in baseball. And they hate each other. The Cubs can’t win at Busch, but this should be a decent barometer for each team going into May. Matt Morris, duck.

2. Friends finale: Yes, it’s finally over. Are Ross and Rachel getting together? Is the monkey returning? Could Courteney Cox gain any more face-weight? Is Joey going to explode? Could it BE any more time to go?

3. Scrubs: Deserves its own column at some point. The funniest show on TV, though this season they’ve succumbed to the will-they-or-won’t-they storyline between JD and Elliot. And a finale wedding. What’s next, a leprechaun?

4. The Kentucky Derby: What? It’s this weekend?

5. Productive outs. Baseball teams are finally realizing that the truth is not Moneyball, it is not batting average and clutch hitting, but somewhere in between. No, Cubs, it’s not aggressive strikeouts, either.

Off to the bay. See you in a week.

Tonight Kobe Bryant will likely land on the tarmac of LAX and head directly to the Lakers/Rockets game 5 in the first round of the ultraboring NBA playoffs.

As I have written before about Mr. Bryant, his persona, aura, and legacy as an NBA player are pure mystery.

Is he good? Sure.

Is he great? Yeah, I guess.

The best in the NBA? Maybe.

The fans’ favorite? Well, no.

The media favorite? Good grief, no. Wait …

Kobe is enigmatic, because for a player so eerily similar to Michael Jordan, fans don’t seem to respond, save to resent each step of his growing legacy. The media is cautiously critical of him, yet they were quick to eat out of Jordan’s hand. Kobe definitely does not have the charisma of MJ, and has not yet learned to hide his inflammatory arrogance like Mike. But then, of course, something happened.

Kobe was accused of rape. And charged. And soon, tried.

And as he lost millions of dollars in endorsements (Mickey D’s, Nutella, Nike) immediately last August, and was chastised by millions of writers, fans and colleagues – some pundits were heard to declare that this arrest may help Bryant — adding to Bryant’s “street cred.”

These writers were perhaps misled by the gross popularity of the charismatic-yet-misunderstood Allen Iverson, assuming that tattoos and arrests fueled the popularity of an already-great athlete. After all, Bryant was booed in his hometown, where Allen is now loved. That MUST be it.

Well, a funny thing happened. Bryant is, in fact, gaining popularity among more and more media members as his rape hearings and trial push forward. Is it pity? Not really. It’s masked admiration, that with ALL THIS going on in his life, Bryant can still manage to put it all away (pun always intended) on the court and score at will.

After all, Bryant cruised to all-NBA first team legit and first team defense this week — even though Baron Davis or Michael Redd or Bruce Bowen had legitimate claims. And they played with no shrouds overhead.

But still, one morning, for an evidentiary hearing, he had to get up at 4 a.m., fly to Colorado, and sit through court all day and THEN he dropped 36 on Sacto! Wow, say what you will about his personal issues, the trial only adds to his legacy!

This statement is not verbatim, but very similar to ones continually expressed over LA radio, even a national show. Are we as basketball fans actually supposed to take the media’s lead, admiring Kobe for soldiering through a rape trial?

Kobe should NOT be commended for excelling at his profession in the backdrop of his trial, just as an ordinary citizen would not expect to hear, “Hey, great filing today, ESPECIALLY with your murder trial going on,” or “Wow, you’ve really given a great lecture on morals, professor, what time was your DUI hearing this morning?” or “Naked Gun 3 was great, is there going to be a fourth one?”

The point is, there’s no profit to be gained from this set of circumstances. No matter how it’s spun, Kobe is not a victim, and has not suffered some sort of unbelievable burden by being accused. He hasn’t had to rise to overcome any sort of obstacle, he has simply had to become accountable for his indiscretions.

So tonight, watch Kobe against the Rockets if you want. He’s admittedly innocent, of course, until proven guilty, but also admittedly fortunate to still have a job.

Should he excel, then good for him, but come on, under no circumstances should his outside legal problems elevate his status in his current profession. Period.

Fact of the day that may interest only me:
While listening to the radio at work, I heard Love Shack, the inevitable pseudo-classic by the B-52′s, twice on an unnamed station in central USA. Not once, as a sort of-retro-amusing spin … but twice. I’m utterly speechless after revealing this information in print.

And I’ve also discovered I’m way more funny in emails than when posting a blog. So I’m, for the first time ever, unveiling THE GREATEST SIDE-SPLITTING EMAIL OF THE DAY. This beauty was emailed at 8:58 a.m. CDT to a friend at a Connecticut newspaper:

” Subject: What I hear
Message: is that the “19-18″ chant offered by gloating Yankee fans at Red Sox games now means “19″ for the number of times the two rivals meet this season, and “18″ for the amount of Red Sox wins.

Pretty clever, huh? Clearly I haven’t lost my journalistic flair. ”

OK, it’s me again. See how much more funny that is than some burnout musical frustration anecdote? Certainly you do.

There’s plenty about having a real job and getting older that sucks. Everyone around you is a Republican, there’s wheat everywhere, and the accents are contagious. (Wait, that’s just here. Never mind.)

But one of the worst things is the constant reliance on the grocery store. Here it is, a Monday evening, and I’ve ALREADY got to go to the grocery store to pick up a few things. This happens nearly five times a week. It’s absolutely frustrating as hell to have to stop into Dillon’s five times a week. Everyone goes at that time, there’s only two lanes open, and they’re all writing checks. (Seriously, checks?! Live in the damn now. Get a card.)

So, I’m thinking, are there any grocery stores that are actually pleasant to visit? I’m eventually going to rank these stores, and I need input on what’s good (Hen House), bad (Stop & Shop) and ugly (Wal-Mart.) To top it all off, I’ve never even been to Piggly Wiggly, Safeway, Costco, or D’Agostino. Price Chopper is somewhere in the middle. Fareway completely blows. And there’s gotta be more!

Anyway, clearly I’m bored, old, and irritable. Please don’t remind me.

The Board
1. Matt Clement � A near no-hitter against the Mets, and one of the most wicked sliders in the majors. Alert to all batters: Contract year�
2. Joe Poz � Might be a KC jinx (Royals 6-11), but the best writers are the funniest and sharpest when forced to write about big-time disappointment. Star readers may be in luck. (Or not in luck, whichever you prefer.)
3. The Bay Area � They say if you like New York, you�ll love San Fran. Never been, but I�m going Monday. Going to California? (Cue Led-Zep�)
4. Hell, Grand Cayman � My boss just got back from a weeklong cruise where one of the stops is a small little burg called Hell, where you can send a postcard to loved ones (From Hell) and you can promptly say upon your return, �I�ve been to hell and back.� What an idea! Personal favorite — “I’m on a slow boat to Hell…” I�m going to try and change the name of my now-hometown to Hell, as a truth-in-advertising gimmick, but I have a feeling it won�t go over too well. Still, if you like repetitively awful jokes (and I do) …
5. (tie) Carmelo Anthony. First he rejuvenates a sleeping giant college basketball program. Then he wins a national title. Then he signs with Nike. Then he leads a moribund franchise into the NBA playoffs. Now he�s �dating� Christina Aguilera. (Used in the loosest sense, as Christina usually is.) The ride continues.
5 (tie). Uncopyrighted song blurbs from an underrated, defunct glam band as the title of a blog. (though these resemble columns more than blogs. I don�t even know what the hell, Grand Cayman, a blog is.)

The bored.
1. NFL Draft � The NFL has successfully marketed its product to the intelligent folks a cut slightly above NASCAR, and this is a result. The NFL Draft is now an �event.� Idiot fans dress up, paint their faces, and go to MSG to boo kids depending on their �upside,� �Wunderlic scores� and �Potential needs of their team.� Fans stay at home, call their friends, eat chips, and watch the interminable rounds after rounds like there�s some suspense involved. I like football, but c�mon, this is 19 hours of self-congratulation.
2. Alanis Morrisette and Barenaked Ladies, on tour. If I was a sophomore in college, all my sorority friends would be thrilled. Was Rush not available? What about John Mayer? Oh, he�s not Canadian?
3. Steve Francis � Yikes. In four games, he�s gone from almost-superstar to immediately-must-trade. Rocket fans must have cringed at his two airballs and �g-ehh!� turnover at the end of OT. Then they must have popped in a tape of the 1995 Dream-n-Clyde season and rejoiced.
4. Jesus � No longer in the top 10 grossing pics, and only two weeks after Easter season. Where�s the box-office mojo now?
5. Sam�s Club � A bottom-five fave. Well, of course I can use a package of 350 Hot Pockets! Now, where�s the 95 oz. boxes of Crunch Berries?

Song of the day: The Jesus and Mary Chain. Just Like Honey.
No, a self-professed 1990s rock junkie who wasn’t into 1980s JMC probably doesn’t carry a whole lot of weight. But this track, featured on the closing credits of Lost In Translation fits the movie perfectly. Any movie perfectly, for that matter. In my car, right now. As we speak.

Song of the week: Vendetta Red. Shatterday.
I’ve been trumpeting this thing for about seven months now. Classic not-quite-alternative-enough rock not-quite-in-the-mainstream. A song that makes you feel cool and young if you like it. Yes, even if you’re not. And now featured on Target’s latest $5 red-room CD. For those of us certain the band actually sucks and unwilling to buy the full-length CD. (And unable to download songs online, thanks very much.)
“Our days are numbered, six-six-six….”

Song of the weak: Hoobastank. The Reason.
For what? Suicide, apparently.

Well, here it is. A year late? Two?

“Like an opening band for the sun.” Welcome to Mister-Faded-Glory, featuring the same opinions you would have noticed on DSV.com, but more of them. So there. And no posting on weekends.

You may have noticed that there are few columns written by yours truly that do not revolve completely around sports. Whether or not this was coherent with the mission of this particular site (Which is…?) I can’t really say.

What I can say is that I write simply what I know. Or profess to know. Some may offer tidbits on city life in the cultural Mecca of the U.S., some offer introspective philosophy blurbs interspersed with indie movie recommendations, and still others offer naked doctored photos of their cats.

I am no more qualified to spout off about topics such as these than I am qualified to analyze our national debt, ecosystems, or latest pop culture snafu.

Sure, I have opinions, it just has taken me more than 20 years to realize that others’ opinions may be just as qualified – or even hold more weight – as mine, rather than assuming that I am necessarily correct about everything.

Sure, there was a period between June of 1998 and August of 2000 where this may have been true, but that’s a short window.

Where am I going with all this? Well, I’m trying to offer an explanation for the way I write about sports, because never in my professional career have I wanted to be a typical sportswriter who opines about a fourth-down call by Mike Shanahan as if it were life and death. (It’s not. Feels like it. Move on.)

Instead, I would much rather be a writer who chooses to talk about sports as entertainment, if carrying a little more weight than some other choices of escapism. I would rather be a writer who can intersperse somewhat intelligent questions and opinions about other, more important concerns (water shortage, loss of civil liberties, global warming, the making of Fletch 3) with the sporting world. In short, there’s plenty of others who I aspire to be like. Or just three, whichever.

Am I qualified to write about sports? I think so, but no more or less than any other barking writer on-air or on-web. But then again, probably not. Still, not being qualified to write about something and continuing to persist is perhaps the American dream. Just ask these three guys.

This was supposed to be an intro to my latest endeavor, about the NFL draft or major league baseball, but instead it turned into a column of its own. Eh, such is life.

Another column coming soon, replete with pop culture references, tongue-in-cheek barbs, and purported wisdom. Stay tuned.