Archive for the 'Ew' Category
I spent a lot of time trying to write a post today. I tried a funny one, I tried a serious one, I even tried an angry one. But all of those posts felt forced and unfocused. After trying to blog for awhile I realized that, basically, I feel really off-kilter about the Sabres. Uneasy. I don’t have a clear sense of what actually happened with Kennedy, nor am I able to use solid, grown-up logic to explain the deep sense of disappointment I feel towards Sabres management.
All I know is that after Darcy’s press conference I felt really, genuinely icky about the Sabres.
Maybe this is just one of those times when the business of sports is difficult to swallow as a fan, or maybe something much more gross and/or pathetic is going on with the Sabres, but honestly, I’m not sure I care. The bottom line is this: I love the Sabres, but I don’t want to be losing faith in them in August. If I’m going to lose faith, I want it to be during the season, in person, while I’m paying perfectly good money to sit in my seats at the arena.
So, please do me a favor, Darcy. I’m begging you. No more press conferences until October. I’m TRYING to suspend my disbelief over here, and you’re making it really difficult.
When I first heard about it, the LeBron James one-hour “DECISION” special didn’t seem like that bad of an idea. Sure, it was an obnoxious concept from the beginning, but I could also appreciate it for its unabashed hat-tip to show biz. Sports are, after all, a big silly show.
But as the day wore on yesterday, I began to imagine what it would be like to watch as a Cavs fan, and I got increasingly uneasy. I should also admit that I believed all along that he was going to choose to return to Cleveland. I mean, who in their right mind would set up an hour long spectacle in order to shit all over their home town? It’s one thing to leave for greener pastures, but to go that far out of your way to be a dick on the way out of town? Surely he had to be picking Cleveland. Right?
Then I saw the “DECISION SPECIAL,” and it was SO MUCH WORSE than anyone could have possibly predicted.
I mean, that was cold.
I don’t have anything to say that hasn’t already been said better by foxier folks than me, but here are a few thoughts that I can’t stop myself from vocalizing:
- One of the things that reeeeally bothers me about this whole thing is the sneaking suspicion that LeBron James actually thought that the whole world would be excited about this. I think he thought that we’d all shed our previous allegiances, and become Miami Heat fans. For some reason, this chills me to the bone. In addition to being an incredible tool, LeBron James might be bat-shit crazy, you guys. Crazy like the Joker. I’m literally afraid of LeBron James now. The best thing we can assume about him is that he’s empty inside. The worst is….scarier than empty.
- My favorite point about why his decision is icky is this: Superstars are supposed to compete against each other. They’re not supposed to call each other on the phone and figure out a way that they can all play on the same team. It’s just not right. Imagine if Sidney Crosby and Ovechkin called each other on the phone and were all, “You know, it would be a LOT easier to win Cups if we were playing together instead of competing against one another, don’t you think?” It’s just. plain. WRONG.
- On the other hand, if LeBron James doesn’t have that crazy competitive drive, that’s fine by me. Seriously. That’s okay. I really think it’s alright to be suuuuuuper good at basketball and also have a normal human disposition. Surely the same competitiveness that makes Kobe and Jordan and Magic “great” on the court also makes them total dicks in their personal lives. Normal people have doubts, and not everyone wants to be a leader. This is perfectly fine. I actually think it’s kind of sweet. BUT IF YOU’RE NOT THE GUY, YOU CAN’T TATTOO “CHOSEN 1″ ON YOUR BACK AND REFER TO YOURSELF AS KING JAMES. Everything about that dumb special was presuming that LeBron James is one of the greatest that ever lived, while simultaneously selling a “decision” that made him seem small and insecure. How dumb do you think we are, LeBron James?
There were a few good things that came out of this though:
1. The Cavs owner is cah-razy, and I love it. I know, I know, he’s stupid and he’s never going to sign another free agent again, and his letter was ridiculous, and he lost ALL credibility when he guaranteed the Cavs would win before LeBron, but still. In the aftermath of that creepy display of consumerism, it was incredibly refreshing to get a taste of some unadulterated, genuine emotion. The sad truth is that Gilbert’s lunatic rant felt like the first taste of sanity in a post-LeBron-ESPN-Decision-Special world. So, now I’m a Cavs fan.
2. We will now have a new way of identifying the truly depraved people of this world. They will be those wearing Heat jerseys outside of Miami. I’ve heard a lot of excuses for rooting for the Yankees in Buffalo (“My father rooted for the Yankees, I grew up with them, Buffalo is a losing town I just want to cheer for a winner blah blah blah blah.”), but NO ONE grew up rooting for the Miami Heat. There is only ONE reason to cheer for the Miami Heat, and that is that you are a GIANT TURD.
3. That ESPN special was so cold, so gross, so narcissistic, so unbelievably disturbing that it felt like a glass of cold water to the face. It was a wake-up call. Do not get me wrong, I have NO DOUBT we will ultimately ignore the wake-up call entirely, but I love that everyone in the country is on the same page (the page simply says, “THAT WAS SO FUCKING WRONG”) today.
The disturbing truth is that if LeBron James had said, “I’m sticking with my hometown team, the team I’ve always loved, the Cleveland Cavaliers. I want to bring a championship to the city where I grew up,” my heart would have swelled with joy, and I would have forgiven LeBron for all the hubris and the narcissism of “The Decision”. But it would have been wrong of me to forgive him for “The Decision” just because he said the thing I wanted to hear.
I think the ESPN spectacle was more wrong than any decision could have possibly been right.
That horrible sense of self-loathing everyone who watched the special is feeling today? That’s the guilt-ridden hangover we earned last night. It’s important. That hangover is infinitely better than the alternative. Without this crushing hangover, we might go on, drunk forever on whatever noxious, truly poisonous brew ESPN decides to serve next.
Today is one of those days where I feel moved to get down on my knees and offer a prayer of thanks to the Hockey Gods. Thank you almighty Hockey Gods. Thank you for not scheduling a Sabres game today.
I’m definitely in a “I can’t even look at you right now” phase with the Sabres. I don’t want to see them, I don’t want to think about them, and I don’t want them playing games, and further pissing me off. I don’t know what their problem is right now, but think another night apart will serve everyone well.
I’m going to the game tomorrow with Heather and I’m going to do my best to fully “bucked-up” by then, but today, I’m still holding a grudge.
The Bills are the worst football team in the history of time and space. Right?
I spent the afternoon practicing my viola while keeping one eye on the muted football game. At some point in the fourth period quarter I realized that for some time I had been sitting in front of the muted television, not practicing, my viola in my lap, with my mouth literally agape. That football was so bad that it was captivating, and then eventually hilarious.
Months after we all got sick of making jokes about him and his alleged public masturbation, HE’S CLEARED OF ALL WRONG DOING. It really WAS mistaken identity, probably with a dash of “unfair racial profiling”, and DEFINITELY with a hearty dose of “unreliable witness”.
I suppose there are worse things that could happen to an innocent man than being accused of masturbating outside the window of an old woman, but as far as false accusations go THIS ONE IS PRETTY BAD.
I hope that McIntyre is the recipient of some kind of delightful karmic compensation for this humiliation, because according to my scorecard, the universe owes this guy. Big time.
The Valentine’s Day related commercials that have been running on WGR are some of the most disturbing things I’ve ever heard. My least favorite is the one where the listener is encouraged to buy his girlfriend a stuffed animal in order to avoid her terrible, scathing wrath. The ad features two different versions of the “girlfriend”. In the first version she’s irrationally angry about the (non-stuffed animal) present she received, and in the second version she is cooing with love as she cuddles her new stuffed animal. HOLY COW is that commercial creepy.
Gentleman, if you suspect for even a SINGLE MOMENT that your girlfriend will fly into a rage if you don’t get her a stuffed animal for Valentine’s Day, you need to dump her, and then move and change your cell phone number- because that bitch is crazy.
Mood: Cautious. I don’t trust these guys. It’s been a rough week for Buffalo sports, and my heart has hardened. I’m scared to love.
Favorite Sabre: I’m going back to basics. I may be scared to love, but I am not scared to HONK. Goose is my favorite Sabre.
Least Favorite Sabre: Derek Roy is the new Thomas Vanek. Incidentally, I am SO happy that Roy-Z has been moved down to the second line. I don’t want Vanek being tainted by Roy-Z’s suckitude now that he is showing signs of rehabilitation.
Summary of thoughts: I was recently thinking about the Sabres rivals. I think that as a Sabres fan I’m supposed to hate the Flyers, the Habs, and the Leafs. Now, I’m not going to cheer any of those teams on, but I don’t particularly hate any of them based on my season and a half of Sabres fandom. I honestly think the team that I hate the most based on the hockey I have experienced this year is the Boston Bruins. I feel like whenever the Sabres had a little momentum last season, the Bruins were there to smother it to death. They always beat us, and I hate them.
Animal representing my hopes of this game: Baby sea turtle
It’s a rough world out there, kiddo.
After the 2nd (4-3)
Mood: Totally amused.
Favorite Sabre: Lately I’ve been wanting to call Pommerdoodle “P-Doods”. I’m going to try it out tonight. P-Doods is my current favorite Sabre for being so blandly snazzy and for saving Vanek from the groady influences of Derek Roy.
Least Favorite Sabre: Sorry, Heather. Hank’s fired.
Summary of events: This game is BANANAS! P-Doods quickly scored (1-0), and then Hank quickly coughed up the puck so that the Bruins could score (1-1), and then Toni Lydman had a goal stolen away by Roy-Z (2-1), and then Numminen deflects a goal past Crunchy, then Vanek and P-Doods convince me they are the best line EVER. Then, all the Bruins decide to beat Petey up at the same time, which ordinarily I would object to, but it lead to a power play goal (4-2), so you won’t hear me complaining. Then, the Bruins score again (4-3) because apparantly the Hockey Gods want this game to end 12-11.
I think this game rocks, I don’t care what Lindy yells about in the locker room. And in Crunchy’s defense, at least two of those Boston goals were totally fluky.
Animal representing my hopes for this game: An older, chillax-ier sea turtle.
After the 2nd (6-4, Bruins)
Mood: I have to be honest here. I’m somewhat irate. The Sabres are supposed to be good, and they are not. At all. And they don’t seem like a team that will be fine as long as they just “stick to the system”. They seem like a shitty team. Worse, they seem like a bunch of assholes.
Favorite Sabre: Goose is not a diver. Eff you, ref.
Least Favorite Sabre: Oh, I don’t know. Mair? Peters? Crunchy? Kaleta? Timmy’s bones and muscles? Lindy? THE SYSTEM? Harry Neale? I don’t like the Sabres.
Summary of events: The Sabres ate a big piece of SUCK-ASS PIE and then vomited it back up all over the second period.
At the end (7-4, Bruins)
Summary of events: Misery
Solemn vow: I shall never love again.
Last night after my concert when I got into my car the score was 2-2. At the time I thought “Cool. I’ll get to watch the end of a feisty game at home before I go back out to meet my peeps for drinks.” In the time it took me to drive ONE (1) MILE, the Penguins scored three times. One mile. Three goals. The Sabres saved their meltdown so that I could fully experience it on my very short commute home from work.
Thank you ever so much, Sabres.
When I got out of my car at home, Blobby was waiting for me on the porch with a bottle of cheap red wine.
“Hey baby, long time no see! How was your summer?”
Is anyone else getting a sinking sort of deja vu feeling? The Sabres we’ve watched for the last ten games are awfully familiar, and not in a good way. The last time I remember feeling this way was right before Blobby stole my credit cards and used them to play online poker for three straight days. He finally stopped when I threatened to call his parole officer, but by then it was too late to make the playoffs get my money back.