Mister Faded Glory | misterfadedglory.com

So you may remember my post whining about my pessimism and the Chicago Cubs, and my cynicism and apparent inability to be neighborly.

Well, I recant. I offer a mea culpa. Perhaps, somewhere, someone is trying to teach me something. If you know me, you know that for whatever reason, I am a jinx to all lawnmowers. They quit, they sputter, and they simply won’t work around me, no matter the year, problem, history, or situation. I am cancer to all lawnmowers. And I don’t know the karmic reason for it. Not a clue. I don’t even dislike mowing the lawn – I actually think it’s somewhat cathartic, plus, I was born into a family full of green thumbs, on both sides. So there’s nothing in my personal life that suggests I would detest or have an agenda against working lawnmowers.

So, you imagine my lack of surprise, when, upon moving into my new house:

(a) my electric mower blew every circuit in my fuse box before it died.

(b) a friend’s borrowed mower cut only half my lawn before it sputtered, emitted black smoke, and died.

(c) and tonight, the used mower I purchased for $30, solely because I desperately needed to prepare for a housewarming party – well, it sputtered, shuddered, and failed to start tonight.

Anyway, long story short (too late) my neighbor came to my rescue. She’s a nurse, she’s retired – as mentioned, she’s a widow, but she couldn’t be nicer. She has two lawnmowers that she called “junkers,” but the one she generously offered to loan me worked like a charm. It wasn’t even that old.

So, anyway, here I am, using a neighbor’s kindness as fuel for a narcissistic blog post, and then – for no reason at all, mind you – she offers to help me out, without want for return – and gives me the key to her shed to use the mower at any time.

I won’t, of course, I’ll attempt to secure mower number four. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll try and be a little nicer to people. Or at least stop making fun of them behind their backs.

Stop laughing.

Well, Mr. Faded Glory is firmly settled in his new abode, alongside Ms. Faded Glory, in a supposedly tight-knit neighborhood. And tonight as I reclined in my new chaise lounge discussing the day’s events with Ms. Faded Glory, a knock came at my door.

It was our neighbor, a widow named Shirley, who left us brownies. And I’d talked with her before (she’s a little bit nosy), and she was quick upon her first introduction to point out the recent death of her father. Now she quickly volunteered that she was a widow. Now, I’m not exactly reluctant to discuss the grim spectre of death, either, but it’s a little awkward upon first introductions.

Anyway, she politely handed me a plate of brownies, and I took them, thanked her, but did not invite her inside. Instead, the cynical me was just a little annoyed that she was bothering me after work. Then, the compassionate me felt bad and annoyed at myself. Then, I looked at the brownies, and discovered they had nuts in them, which I promptly complained about.

A random, neighborly act of kindness, yet I treated it with total contempt, even though I harbor no ill will or anything. I’m just a pain in the ass. What, on earth, made me so cynical?

Then, I remembered. The damn Cubs. That’s what they’ve done to me – this whole life, all my personality flaws can be traced back to my stupid allegiance to this stupid team that I stupidly take so seriously. And here I am, nary 24 hours after swearing them off, commenting on them again. But honestly, can you blame me, when stuff like this is written? From this morning’s Tribune:

Another key question for Piniella is what to do about second base, where Ryan Theriot went 3-for-6 on Sunday in the leadoff spot. Theriot is hitting .471 for his career with runners in scoring position, and has a .343 batting average since the second half of 2006.

But DeRosa signed a three-year, $13 million deal, and unless Theriot moves to shortstop, there’s no room for both.

“To be honest, whatever position I’m out there at, when I come out to the yard to play every day, that’s the spot I’m going to go play at,” Theriot said. “Whether it be second, short, I’ve played some third, played some outfield, to me I’m not biased [toward] any of them.

Um, how can I put this? PLAY THERIOT AT SHORTSTOP, THEN! FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, DO I HAVE TO DRAW YOU A DIAGRAM?

This is what I put too much stock into, in my life. Yep, my priorities are out of whack. But I’m not changing. Not yet.

(though Scott Eyre is doing his best to either induce my suicide or run me off. Stay tuned.)

I realize that the 2007 baseball season seems only in its infancy, and that there are certain bright spots for the Cubs (Ryan Theriot, Mike Barrett, Aramis Ramirez, Mike Wuertz, Rich Hill) and certain lamentable spots (The Strap, RonCe, Cliff Floyd, Carlos Zambrano, Fatty Eyre and Bob Howry) – but we’re going to totally abstain from discussing the Cubs, and assume that the possibility remains they’ll get their act together. With 10 percent of the season down the tubes, and a stunning inability to mesh any positives together, however, please color us less than impressed. And so we’ll shut up, until we’re able to praise something, or anything.

It’s been a whirlwind, tragic, somber, and sobering few days, of course. And certainly Mister Faded Glory’s heart goes out to the entire Virginia Tech community as well as the extended kin. We’ve scarcely seen such an awful event in our lifetime.

We’ve been so transfixed with the story all week, however, and had even intended to craft a spirited critique of the media’s themes and tendencies tonight as the week has unfolded. However, the act of typing such critiques somehow felt completely and totally hollow. Suffice it to say we agree with NBC News and support its complete airing of the killer’s epitaph – it’s journalism.

Not shock, not gatekeeping, not ratings-seeking. Motives of a psychopath be damned, it’s part of the search and quest for truth, and it certainly sheds light not necessarily on extreme psychosis or schizophrenia – but the narcissism, and the pure evil, and the entire question of what makes a person completely snap. This is only part of our still-unfolding evidence. How in the world did this happen? How does a human arrive at such a morbid intersection of delusion and evil?

And we’re a little miffed at the early – and now impaneled -  rush to indict Virginia Tech’s administration for not “locking down” a 26,000-student university upon news of a random murder. If that even were possible. It’s like locking down Mason City, Iowa. Can’t happen.

The fact is, and the truth is – no matter how prepared we may be, no matter how much foresight we display, we cannot defend people, homes, or institutions with 100 percent certainty – if the opposition is completely willing to die for its cause. It’s impossible. It’s tragic. It’s the truth.

And we’re completely dumbfounded as to how the conservative machine somehow, totally coincidentally picks the perfect firestorms of news coverage in which to drop nuggets about its narrowing of civil liberties – we just don’t know how that manipulation of the news cycle (a) happens, or (b) goes unchecked.

Regardless, our thoughts and opinions are of little comfort, meaning, or weight during this tragedy. We can point you to the Post’s Howard Kurtz and Slate’s Jack Shafer for much more detailed, spirited and insightful inquiry, or blogging.

Haven’t mentioned this much before, but it’s been exceedingly tough to immerse myself in baseball this season. Sure, Desipio is finally back, GROTA is improved, and other Cubs blogs have dived in. Yet, here MFG remains – unwilling, even, to commit to a season of fantasy baseball.

Not that we’re on a pedestal, over anyone else. It’s just difficult to get excited about the new-look Cubs. Sure, they admirably added some hitting talent, and admirably changed their pitching philosophy to revolve around innings-eaters (see Lilly, Ted, and Marquis, Jason) instead of strikeout artists Kerry Wood and Mark Prior. The theory was a bolstered offense would salvage more games in which the starter gave up 4 or 5 runs. A nice idea, in theory.

But, upon a closer look, the offense is still feast-or-famine – though the cast of characters around Derrek Lee, Aramis Ramirez, and Mike Barrett has changed, they still fit the profile of the Cubs’ air-conditioning, starved-for-OBP lineups of the last few years, notably 2004. Check it out:

2007/2004

CF Alfonso Soriano / RF Sammy Sosa

LF Matt Murton / LF Moises Alou

1B Lee / Lee

3B Aramis / Aramis

RF The Strap / Corey Patterson

C Barrett / Barrett

2B DeRosa / Mark Grudzielanek, DBF

SS Izturis / Alex Gonzalez

And here we are again. Still trying to tweak a machine that fell short in the first place.

We’ve got a lineup heavy on pop but starved for discipline, and even though the Cubs won 89 games in 2004 – the priority was pitching (Wood, Prior, Z) followed by batting. And it made sense then – were it not for injuries (you know who), that was a playoff team.

But that’s all it was, and it was barely that. With virtually the same 2005 lineup, sans Sosa, the Cubs fielded barely a .500 team. In 2006, you know what happened. So, here in 2007, we have a theoretically strong lineup – but no lights-out pitchers to save us on days like a frigid yesterday, in which a patient offense outlasts a starved, hot-and-cold group. Too many home runs, and too few doubles, and frustrating spurts surrounding. In that regard, how great can we expect 2007 to actually be?

Anyway, that’s my rational realism. Now, let me calm my cynic down. So far – the team hasn’t looked bad, and it’s been one week. Quite a few quality starts, and quite a few bullpen mistakes. Luckily, it’s early, and there’s time to figure the bullpen out. (Mike Wuertz looks particularly good this year.) I think it’s a .500 squad, and it’s tough to pour my heart and soul into that this season. Every winning team needs several breaks over the course of a year – as in 2004 and 2005, this team will need a deluge of breaks. And that’s not going to cut it.
But check back after our first come-from-behind win – I’m sure I’ll finally have taken my first Kool-Aid drink by then. Sorry to be so morose.

As a postscript, the Cubs’ bullpen blew games to Cincinnati and Houston, respectively, on the only two days I set my DVR to record their afternoon games. So, hopefully, I’ve actually figured their problem out, and, like everything, it can fully be traced back to me. Sorry!

We don’t hate the infernal Colin Cowherd just because his radio show on ESPN replaced Tony Kornheiser‘s radio show.

(By the way, Tony’s WashPost radio show is back on, it’s a podcast, and it’s fucking fabulous. I like nothing in all media better than this show. In fact, I seriously think listening to the The Tony Kornheiser Show is surpassed only by sex. That’s how absolutely great it is. I’m not kidding. I realize how ridiculous, sad, pathetic, and weird this is.)

ANYWAY, Mister Faded Glory joins the litany of voices calling for Colin Cowherd‘s head, or at least calling for the chance to punch him in the face. We join the list of voices who totally have The Big Lead‘s back, and we’re also blissfully happy The Big Lead‘s back. (Hmm. That sounded more clever than it reads.) In fact, we’d make fun of Cowherd’s radio show further, but we’ve never listened to more than three minutes of it, nor do we know anyone who has. So, whatever. He sucks.

As you can imagine – MFG recent real-life adventures in moving, cable hookups, returned TVs, unpacking, leadership conferences, and holiday weekends with in-laws notwithstanding – it’s been quite an eventful week where MFG lurks.

In case you missed it, nary a month ago – fresh off a pasting of Texas Tech in the Big 12 tournament, an NCAA snub, and on the precipice of a shady recruiting class – Kansas State coach Bob Huggins was the toast of the Little Apple. Now, however, he is public enemy No. 1, having taken a job at West Virginia.

Now, I don’t consider myself a K-State fan. I did marry one. I do work with many. I even know legions. And through the end of the week, they were jumping off rooftops – into snowdrifts – as if their prodigal son had left and some Biblical catastrophe brought on dredges of unseasonable snow. It’s easy to empathize a little. It’s easy to castigate Huggins. It’s easy to sigh with relief, hopeful that a head-case basketball star can wholly revitalize a program.

It’s not so much easy, actually. More like, well, difficult.

First of all, Bob Huggins ain’t exactly a saint. We know about his standoffishness with the media. We know about his dalliances with reprehensible youths. We know about his own demons and mistakes. And we know about his indifference toward graduating players.

But he didn’t do anything other coaches wouldn’t.

Sure, I was surprised he left. He was pretty much royalty in Manhattan – after a scant year pushing someone else’s players to a postseason tournament, Aggieville had become Huggieville. He had a great recruiting class coming in, and his future looked bright in Manhattan. Cripes, this is a town that still lionizes Michael Bishop. Huggins would become a god. And he left one crappy college town for another – similar programs, similar hilly regions, and similar hot-and-cold psychotic fans. But he left.

Well, that’s life. That’s coaches.

They run the world. They’re not necessarily held accountable for anything, and face swells of vitriol or reverence only in extreme circumstances. (Say, Tubby Smith or Bob Stoops). But through it all, college coaches are salesmen. Period. They have the same amount of integrity as media salesmen, or car dealers. And indeed, their roles are the same. They’re out for themselves (News flash – we all are) – off to greener pastures and different things just because it suits them. Heck, if Duke, UConn, and Syracuse weren’t so great for Coach K, Calhoun, and Boeheim - they’d all be coaching the Lakers, Gamecocks, or Celtics, respectively, not simply because of a love for their schools or respect for their kids. But they’re not, because those schools have proven best for them.

But so Huggins left. No different than any other coach, and not exactly a bastion of integrity. However, depending on whom you believe, he actually did help the people he cared most about.

First, Frank Martin‘s sullied past now leads the BCS conference. And borderline shoe exec Dalonte Hill is his assistant. But don’t listen to me – take Jason’s words for it:

There’s this myth that Martin and Hill are really, really upset with Huggins. He left them in a lurch. He betrayed them.

No, Huggins left them all the leverage they needed to land undeserved coaching contracts. How many disgraced, wildly volatile high school coaches land head-coaching jobs in a BCS conference at age 41? And 27-year-old Dalonte Hill gets to play associate head coach in charge of making sure Michael Beasley’s shoes are tied, shirts are pressed and car is washed.

This situation isn’t difficult to read. Huggins, Martin and Hill knew exactly what type of incredibly insecure people they were dealing with, people more than willing to cry in front of the entire state like scorned lovers over a wham-bam coach who had a well-known, sullied reputation.

And it’s all true. Martin and Hill really have no business running a program. And now, notwithstanding their faults, Mike Beasley, Bill Walker, and the rest of K-State’s cast will be auditioning only for the NBA for one year. Showcasing talent, with all of Wildcat nation thirsting for moderate success. Who’s to say Huggins didn’t help all the people he cared about? Maybe he’s full of integrity after all.

And secondly, Jason’s completely correct on the big picture – but actually, wasn’t this the right move for K-State?

They keep aboard two coaches who brought in their best recruiting class since Mitch Richmond patrolled Manhattan. And with little risk – if 2008 is a failure, if all the one-and-done players disappoint, bolt, or flunk out, well, then K-State can start fresh. Again.

But isn’t that better than attempting to land Rick Majerus, Steve Lavin, Chris Lowery, or Steve Henson this late in the game? Taking a shot with the boatload of talent coming in, and reassess the state (and, perhaps, integrity) of Wildcat basketball in 2008, and see where the program is heading provides only a small risk, but perhaps a big reward.

However, finally, that leaves us with K-State president Jon Wefald and AD Tim Weiser, who sounded like jilted lovers through this whole thing. Whitlock’s column touches on it earlier, but the decision, even if correct, to hire two assistants and hitch a basketball program to questionable fellows also represents the insecurity of Wildcat fandom completely.

On Thursday, Wefald and Weiser served as exhibits A and B for what’s wrong with Midwestern sports, education, and hiring practices. Never mind that they’re better off, or a free-will person’s decision – complete sublimation to a greater cause is more important than simply doing your job well. (See? Real-world tie-in.) Their program is light-years ahead of where it stood in 2006, sports media is jumping all over another egomaniacal coach, yet they’re crying foul, as though they never saw this coming.

Whether that’s rubbish or truth, it’s irrelevant. The proper move would have been to address Huggins’ departure, quote the state of the program, and hire someone quickly. They got two out of three. Additionally, however, they confirmed the rest of the country’s contempt for Midwestern sports fans – insecure, whiny, and way too worried about college sports.

But that’s, of course, unfair by the uninitiated. Right? Because when you look back, Huggins, Martin, Hill, Walker, Beasley, Weiser and Gerheim are now all in way better shape personally than in 2006. They’re considered less accountable, less risky, and in  more promising situations. Huggins has another fresh start, blemishes in past forgotten. Martin and Hill have undeserved chances and carte blanche to keep rebuilding an astray program.  Beasley, Walker, etc., all have a straight audition to the NBA – with fans yearning so much for headlines and excitement, they won’t mind the lack of class attendance and fundamental basketball. And, finally, Wefald and Weiser are fine. They’re the scorned. We all feel bad for them – seriously, didn’t they show us how moribund and desperate a situation this is? The principle cast is all better off.

So maybe, integrity in college basketball completely aside, isn’t that what all fans could possibly hope for? Isn’t it?

We’re back live. But, true to form, it’s gonna be a little spotty until the abode is put together. Either that or my HD TV plus DVR now controls my life. Whichever you prefer. Back soon