Setting a New Standard of Bad: "Dunn Bad"

Almost!

For those of you casually watching baseball this summer, or only following front runners like the Phillies, Yankees, and/or Red Sox, you may be missing the astoundingly awful performance of Adam Dunn.

As of this writing, Dunn is hitting .161 with 146 strikeouts in 341 at bats through 117 games. The White Sox signed him as a free agent over the winter to be their Designated Hitter...pause for effect. Somehow, his team is still in the Central Division pennant race.

Adam Dunn's 2011 campaign is setting a new standard of ineptness. (Detroit Tiger fans may painfully recall Rob Deer's '91 campaign when he hit .179, but managed to hit 25 HR's.) Dunn is on track to register 16 dingers and should rack up over 200 strikeouts. This is some serious not hitting for someone designated to hit.

Dunn's 2011 season may become so significantly awful that his name becomes one of those commonly used sports term that we all immediately understand:

• "He's pulling a 'Koufax'." Won't play ball on Saturday because of his Jewish faith
• "That was a 'Reggie-like' performance." Turned in a memorable post-season effort
• "He's got the 'Steve Blass' syndrome." A pitcher who cannot find the strike zone
• "He's gone 'Sax' on us."  An infielder who cannot find the first baseman
• "He's 'Dunn.'" A batter who can barely make contact, much less hit

Imagine a couple of coaches hanging around a batting cage a few years from now...

"What happened to Smith? That guy could really stroke it."
"Oh, Smith...yeah, he's 'Dunn.'"
"Sorry to hear that."

Dunn's performance is so impressively and historically woeful, it may transcend sport and become part of our future accepted vernacular....

"You know, that Ryan Reynolds was a pretty good actor, but his recent movie choices 'Dunned' beyond belief."
"I thought that Katy Perry was going to be the biggest thing since Madonna, but she has 'Dunned' her last few albums, hasn't she?"
"Obama really 'Dunned' this economy"

Let's put Adam Dunn's year-to-date statistics into perspective:

Will you still love me tomorrow?

• He trails the next worst hitter in the major leagues, Vernon Wells, by .047 points. For you stat buffs out there, he is 22% worse than the next worst hitter in the majors. Wells ought to buy Dunn a car for taking attention off his .208 performance.
• He will need to hit .351 for the rest of the season in order to reach the "Mendoza Line" of .215. That means he will have to hit at more than double his current average
• In over 20 games, he has struck out 3x or more times; Joe DiMaggio struck out 3x or more in one game once in his career (Source: Chicago AM 1000 Thursday afternoon)
• He is currently hitting .100 points less than what he hit last year. His lifetime average is .245...not exactly Ruthian (another athletic term we understand), but not horrible
• He could go 0-4, 1-4, 1-4, 1-5, and 1-6 over the next five games and raise his average
• He is hitting .038 against left handed pitching (this is not a typo)
• The Sox gave him a contract for $12 million dollars. At his current rate, he will be paid $160,000 per hit

We don't usually see hitters suddenly lose the ability to hit unless they have been beaned, drugged, maimed, or mauled. Most hitters seem to deteriorate slowly, over time. As far as I could tell, Dunn suffered no off-season setback other than that one lunch he missed in January.

Hey...kid, yeah you!
Catch this one.

Dramatic baseball drop offs seem to occur when players forget how to throw; for example, pitchers can no longer find the strike zone and infielders can no longer find the closest first basemen. We watched and shuddered when grounders were hit to guys like the Dodger's Steve Sax and the Yankee's Chuck Knoblauch as they rifled throw after throw in the general vicinity of the first base dugout.

We watched in anguish the anguish of pitchers like Steve Blass, Mark Wohlers, and Rick Ankiel, who went from successful and effective pitchers one season to mysterious wild men the next. In Ankiel's case, his wildness somehow occurred in the middle of a playoff game. And yet, Ankiel was such a good athlete, he resurrected his career as an outfielder. A pretty inspirational story. Blass and Wohlers never made it back.

Dunn was brought in solely as a DH, so one doubts that there is a latent 92 mph fastball lurking within that rather large (dare I say "pudgy?") body of his. If his manager, Ozzie Guillen, continues to  trot him out to not hit, then just sit back, enjoy (assuming you are not a White Sox fan) and and watch history unfold. Stephen Colbert of "The Daily Show" said it best, "I haven't seen someone with that much trouble getting to first base since me."

Stephen Colbert Discusses Adam Dunn

Where Have All the Superstars Gone?

I am kinda bored with sports right now.

"So, wait..you watched how
many weeks of this?"

Perhaps my perspective is too limited, but from where I sit here in rain-soaked, lightening-battered, and sauna-engulfed Chicago the general sports scene has been about as exciting to watch as an episode of "The Killing" (thank you, Bill Simmons.)

While the local weather has certainly contributed to my general sports malaise (golf course closed the entire weekend), I have tried to figure out what is missing in my sports viewing life. Why do I carry around such indifference?

They don't pay me to catch
(or hit, apparently)

Could my sports funk be attributed to the fact that the Cubs are playing like an overpriced AAA team or that the under achieving White Sox play with the energy of a drunken Gordon Lightfoot? Or maybe it is because the other prominent Chicago sports are locked up in labor disputes? Naaahhh, I'm a Cardinals fan and I don't start getting worked up over football until I can start betting on it.

My discomfort goes deeper and I think I have pinpointed the reason. There is not one athlete out there right now worthy of "appointment viewing." No one is capable of the kind of athletic dominance that causes me to stop whatever I am doing to watch what they might do next.

Fans didn't come to see Reggie bunt

I need a superstar. No, I don't have to root for the guy. I might just root against him, in fact. But I need someone to rise above his peers; someone who can do something remarkable.

Quick...who leads the major leagues in HR's? Batting average? What pitcher has the most wins? Who is the leading money leader on the PGA tour right now? Who is the world's top-ranked golfer?

And away we go!

If you answered: Jose Bautista, Jose Reyes, CC Sabathia, Nick Whatney, and Luke Donald...you, my friend, need to spend less time on your fantasy teams.

Each one of these men are great athletes, no doubt, but do any of them cause you to put down your iPad, soduku book, or Thighmaster to turn up the volume when they bat, throw, or tee off? Do they  carry a cool, calm, and confident swagger about them? I doubt it...

• Bautista has played for five different teams and has a lifetime average of .254 
• Reyes is a phenom and seems destined for continued greatness, but he was a common name amidst trade deadline discussions
• CC has been one of the top five pitchers in MLB for the past five years; but the guy has a Ralph Kramden body and exudes the excitement of Milwaukee night life
• Nick Whatney has four career tour wins. Four. I bet if you asked the casual golf fan which Ryder Cup team Nick played on, maybe 40 percent would guess "Europe" because of his Brit-sounding name
• Luke Donald has a golf swing to die for; he'll win several tournaments a year in dominant fashion, and the lad can paint his ass off; and yet, his best finish in a major is a tie for 4th in the Masters

Gratuitous Minka
Kelly shot

Maybe Albert Pujols will jump into serious salary overdrive and turn his (and the Cardinals') season around; maybe Justin Verlander or Roy Halladay will go on dueling scoreless inning streaks or maybe Derek Jeter will propose to Minka Kelly. Any of them worthy of superstar status right now? Nope (although a younger Jeter certainly deserved past consideration and Miss Kelly deserves our current admiration.)

That leaves me with one, and only one, candidate: Tiger Woods. I need Tiger to come back big and soon.

I know, I know...he's a convicted "sex addict"; his divorce will cost him millions, his knee and achilles are shredded; he's on his third or fourth swing coach; most of his sponsors have dropped him like an infected lab rat; he's severed all ties with IMG; his name is linked with a performance enhancin', drug dispensin' "physician;" he fired his long-time confidant, motivational coach, and caddy, Steve Williams, who is sure to command millions for a tell-all-behind-the-scenes book; and, to make matters worse, he has grown a PBS beard...

Inspiration?

Perhaps!

Remember the feeling?

And yet, I still want the big cat back. I miss seeing the red on Sunday, the fist pumps, and the "don't 'f' with me" stare. I want that back.

Imagine what was going on within the confines of the Woods' mancave as he rehabbed his knee and watched Rory McIlroy's Sherman-like march over and through Congressional Golf Club or Darren Clarke's gutty (pun intended) ball striking around Royal St. George through the wind, rain, sleet, fog, and Guinness.

What do you think he muttered to his entourage as Phil was making his almost-epic front nine charge: "Do you think that shirt has a built-in manssier?" Or, as Phil started his all-too-predictable retreat on the back nine with a missed two-footer: "Geez...Mick! Elin could have made that putt with the 7 iron she wrapped around my skull!"

There are plenty of theories as to why he cannot catch Jack Nicklaus' majors total (18) or that he will never attain the same level of dominance when he returns:

a) He can't intimidate his opponent(s) anymore
b) His swing is a mess
c) He isn't putting like he used to and that has nothing to do with his swing
d) Tiger has lost that fire, he's too distracted and not hungry anymore; he's too soft
e) His body cannot hold up any longer

I don't know. I sure wouldn't bet against him. I believe that Tiger is one of those rare athletes with more competitive desire and will than his contemporaries. I think he can reclaim the top ranking. Maybe he won't dominate, but I believe he is more than capable of winning and winning majors.

But, then again, I am looking for a superstar...or at least someone to act like one. 

Why Social Media is Like Spandex

Since the sports world is pretty darn slow this time of year, I have opted to venture from my normal ramblings to share some thoughts on social media, especially as it relates to fellow baby boomers.

I believe that those of us north of 50 fall into one of the following four categories when it comes to exploring this new frontier:

1. The techno rebels who have not and will not ever "friend," "tweet," or "like" anyone or anything. And, by God, they are proud of it.
2. The digital incompetents who desperately want to become part of this nifty social phenomenon, but are woefully inept at grasping the nuances, the etiquette, and the entire concept and yet, they believe that they need to participate.
3. The prudent posters; they will compose, then edit, then ask their best friend what they think about a comment before posting or tweeting ANYTHING, they don't "friend" or "link" with just any Tom, Dick or Mary, and they hand out their "likes" as if they were a precious currency. After posting, they will anxiously check to see if anyone has bothered to read and/or comment. 
4. The overeager tweeters; they are convinced that Facebook, Linkedin, and Twitter all represent long-awaited forums in which they can now (finally!) share their insightful thoughts, witty observations, clever quotes, fabulous photos, and special links with their new-found world of loyal admirers. They have "friended" everyone from their first grade girlfriend to the guy who sacks their groceries to that weird guy who lives in that van by the river. They post something, anything everyday. Every. Freakin'. Day. 

The impact of social media changes as quickly as someone comes up with new ways of using it. We are now entertained by one another...our friends and distant contacts become the amateur writers and photographers that inform and enlighten us and the best part of about it, we can control the amount we choose to consume.  Tired of someone? De-friend 'em! Don't care to suffer through another paragraph of nonesensical, mindless blather of your cousin's never ending philosophy of life? Don't read it! And, while you're at it, de-friend her tired ass too!

Still, these digital incompetents can impact our lives, despite our calculated attempts to ignore them. 

"I'll just hit this button and
let's see what happens--..."

For example, one such hack I know decided it was time for him to jump into the Linkedin pool in a big way. The result? "Hey Dave, I got a 'link' request from this guy, 'William Ratcher (name changed to protect this nimrod),' I don't think I have ever met him, but I believe he is a friend of yours." According to his wife, "Bill" has also extended proposed "links" with his son's ex-girlfriend and some lawyer in South Carolina who she once worked with. "Bill" confided to a friend, "The only decision I made that was worse than joining Linkedin was to join Facebook." Or vice versa.

"Oh...sh--"

I cannot chastise ol' "William" too much because all of us, no matter how techno savvy we claim to be, have sent something we wish we hadn't, either by pushing the "send" button too quickly, replying to "all" inadvertently, or forwarding something that the sender had not intended for other eyes to see.

"What happens in White Castle, stays in
White Castle. Right guys? Right?"

If you have yet to experience this "pit-in-the-stomach/cold-sweat" feeling that comes when you have mistakenly launched some unguided, reckless scud missile into cyberspace for all to read, see, or hear, the sensation is similar to the one you get when you realize that the whispered comment you made at 2 am in White Castle to a few buddies about your Dad's co-worker who had left his wife for a stripper and is sitting just a few booths over was actually overheard by the co-worker's stripper girlfriend because you apparently used your Budweiser-induced-louder-than-a-whisper voice and said stripper decides to confront you. It sorta feels like that.

Granted, the whole social network system would fall apart without such deep social participation. Linkedin doesn't do me much good if the only people I can connect with are a bunch of my friends' sons' ex-girlfriends and Facebook isn't much of an attraction when the only people posting are the ones who choose to share with me that they are in the midst of yet another "fantastic day!"

So, on behalf of all digital crumudgeons, I have two requests: 

• First, figure out what the hell you are doing before you do it; use that "help" link or for God's sake, just ask somebody. If you can answer the following question, "I have a good idea what will happen when I click this button," then go right ahead and click that button.
• Second, before posting something, anything, ask yourself this, "Would anyone other than my Mother (let's assume that you are on good terms with her for this example) give a rat's ass about the comment I about to post?"

In summary, my philosophy about social networking is similar to my opinion on fashion, captured so eloquently (and succinctly) on a bumper sticker spotted a few years ago: 

"Spandex is a privilege, not a right."

Sure, why not? 

Nope

The Man Who Would Be "King" Gets a Life Coach

"Mr. James, so nice to meet you. Please step right in, have a seat...no, no, not there, that's my chair. The couch? Sure, and please, lie down if that relaxes you.

"And no, I won't call you King."

"Lebron, I can call you Le- Oh...OK, uh well then, Mr. James...I assume the sting of that last game has worn down. I won't attempt to delve into why you did what you did, but the purpose of our sessions will to help you discover why you are perceived as well, such a, uh, well...jerk by just about everyone north of the Everglades.

"For this session I have revised a list that I used with a former client of mine, Ron Artest. He had some anger management issues that we have under control, I think, but the direction I gave him should benefit you as well; it's a handy list that I like to call, 'Five Things Not to Do to Come Across Like a Total A-Hole.' 

"Woah now...please sit down and listen, Mr. James...it is for your own good, trust me...I'm a doctor.

"Hey, how am I doin'?"

"OK, first item: DO NOT hold a nationally televised interview to announce you will dump on a city that worshipped you for seven years. For reasons that you may not have understood, the Cleveland fans didn't really want to get all hyped up and then trashed upon. It upset them and it made you look like an ego-centric, ungracious, selfish pig. If you wanted to go to Miami, just hold a quick press conference, thank the fans for all their support and get the hell out of Dodge...but don't, I repeat, don't hold a 30 minute interview that will lead up to a decision like this one.

"You think that's funny...
wait 'til you hear this prediction!"

"Second, don't predict multiple championships when you haven't won even one yet. You see, Mr. James, there is an old expression that noted sports thespian and pitcher, Dizzy Dean used to make, 'It ain't braggin' if you done it.' So, when you pronounced, in front of all those Miami fans and the entire sports world, that you and your mercenary chums were planning to pillage the NBA out of  multiple championships...well, it came across as just plain bragging. See...you hadn't won ANYTHING yet. NADA.

Mr. Humble?

"Third, act humble, at least until you don't have to.  I would advise you to stay humble even if you do win a championship. Some don't care for the arrogance of Muhammad Ali or Reggie Jackson or Kobe Bryant, but, they won and could back up cockiness with results. Can't argue with that. So, if you cannot contain yourself, when and if you get that championship, and have to predict more...at least you'll be perceived as overly confident.

"No, no wait (sniff), I got this (cough) nutty idea..."

"Fourth, don't lampoon a key opponent, who is very, very good, when he is playing sick and your team is down a game. Mr. James, have you ever heard the expression, 'don't poke the sleeping bear?' No? Well, see...if the player really WAS sick, he has even more incentive to play better and to kick your ass in six games, not seven. Also, no one looks good mocking the sick.

"I have news...
I could buy or sell all of you"

"Fifth, when you do lose a critical game, do NOT...I repeat, do NOT imply that the outcome of the game itself is secondary to your earnings and that because of this, your life is somehow superior to a majority of the United States population. You may THINK your life is better, but in no way can you say or imply this. Many people are pretty happy with their lives, Mr. James and don't really need an entourage of six do nothings that tell them how great they are and laugh at all their lame jokes.

"Ahhh...we are running short of time, Mr. James. But, you have much to absorb and I want to give you an assignment for next week. I want you to memorize the following lines; we'll practice the many instances in which you can use them. Here we go...

"'I have a long way to go before I can expect to be mentioned in the same breath as Magic, Michael, Bill Russell, and others...those guys won championships.'


"'If it weren't for the fans, we wouldn't even be here.'


"'That was a total team effort.'


"'I have the utmost respect for (fill in the blank), that team can play.'

"These will help you in the future, Mr. James...but, this requires a total commitment on your part...What? You'll be late next week? You have a fitting for a new crown?

"Better be for a tooth, Mr. James or we have a long, long way to go..."

You Can't Hide Those Lyin' (Buck)Eyes

The American sports fan, in general, has a great capacity to forgive its athletes for crimes committed, rules broken, and stupidity displayed. This same fan is much less forgiving, however, when the athlete (or coach, in this case) has lied...and lied in a big way.

Fans can handle admitted mistakes and/or human frailties in their athletes. Got a flaw? Great, I got a few dozen...now you seem real and maybe just a little more like me. OK, admit you were wrong and then go back to hitting ropes and winning games...we'll get through this.

However, fans have little tolerance for being taken for fools. You mean when you stood in front of me and a millions of others pleading for us to believe you when you said you had not taken performance enhancing drugs or anything else...but you really had? You want us to forgive you and move on? No so fast there, Poncho...

Can I at least keep the vest?

People won't let Marion Jones or Barry Bonds or Ben Johnson off so easily. Nothing irks us like bold-faced lying.

Likewise, it will take a long, long time for college football fans in general and Ohio State fans in particular, to forgive Jim Tressel; not so much for his players' selling merchandise, getting new car access, smoking dope, etc, but for the cover up and subsequent lying. And once his lying was revealed, every past misdeed by the man they used to call "The Senator" (perhaps an apropos moniker after all?) will find its way into the press. Just wait.

If you have any doubt about this, I would like to submit exhibits A, B, and C: Michael Vick, Mike Tyson, and Ben Roethlisberger.

If these pants could, ah, talk...oh my

One of the most lovable knuckleheads of all-time may just be John Daly. The guy is a smoking, gambling, alcohol and caffeine chugging machine with legions of adoring fans who flock to his Hootermobile for t-shirts, cold beers, and impromptu topless reviews. His stable of ex-wives is fast approaching that of Johnny Carson's and he has more admitted vices than Keith Richards (more, not deeper). And yet, Long John Daly is honest to a fault, by God, so we'll continue to take back his big ol' sweaty smokin' self and root for him to "grip it and rip it."

Sports fans, and the public, will forgive a lapse in judgment if the defendant comes clean, "I didn't see the stairs behind him/her when I pushed that son of a b#tch/bi#ch." We can accept it when our stars are the victim of an uncontrollable bad habit, "I can only ask that my fans, my teammates, and the public forgive me, I am addicted to sex/cocaine/video games." Face the music and we'll let you play on.

The time it takes for the public to forgive and forget does correlate to the severity of the crime, but I would submit that the public will forgive an athlete who admits to having committed just about any crime (except for ones in which they take another's life) a lot faster than those athletes who willingly and repeatedly lie.

Damn! It just don't fit!

Never Forgiven

• Murdering one's wife/wife's friend/fellow man - Rae Carruth, OJ Simpson (allegedly)
• Driving over and killing someone while legally intoxicated - Will Allen
• Knowingly fixing the game's outcome so that God-fearing Americans who legally (and illegally) gamble on NBA games will lose - Tim Donaghy

Eventually forgiven by some, maybe

No hablo English

• Not admitting to knowingly taking performance enhancing drugs to gain competitive advantage unless all the evidence points (or will point) to no other conclusion -  Barry Bonds, Mark McGuire, Marion Jones, Sammy Sosa, Roger Clemens (allegedly), Lance Armstrong (allegedly)

After paying one's debt to society; forgiven my most, but not by all

That Kerrigan is such a bitch!

• Running an organized dog fighting ring - Mike Vick
• Raping a beauty queen contestant while judging the competition - Mike Tyson
• Hiring someone to inflict harm upon an opponent to better your chances of making the Olympics Team - Tonya Harding 
• Driving drunk when you make enough to pay for two drivers - athletes too numerous to mention
• Gambling on your own sport - Pete Rose, Paul Hornung, Alex Karras, Denny McLain
• Shooting oneself in leg while smuggling a concealed handgun - Plaxico Burress

After all the facts have been revealed, most will forgive and forget

I was right! The bus is faster!

• Admitting to taking performance enhancing drugs to gain competitive advantage - Jose Canseco, Floyd Landis, Alex Rodriguez, Jason Giambi, Andy Pettite, 
• Attacking two different females, bordering on rape - Ben Roethlisberger (allegedly)
• Knowingly breaking rules to gain advantage - Gaylord Perry, Albert Belle & Sammy Sosa (corked bad, not steroids), Danny Almonte, Rosie Ruiz 
• Sucker punching and breaking multiple facial bones of an opponent in a college basketball game - Dave Winfield
• Engaging in multiple cases of infidelity leading to multiple offspring (children by women) - Calvin Murphy (14 by 9); Shawn Kemp (7 by 6); Evander Holyfield (9)
• Making clear-headed, but ignorant racist quote - John Rocker, Al Campanis
• Biting off part of the ear of an opponent who has nine illegitimate kids - Mike Tyson
• Admitting addiction to a drug that detracts from performance - Keith Hernandez, Steve Howe, Josh Hamilton, John Daly, Daryl Strawberry, Len Bias
• Committing serious infidelity despite a seriously hot wife - Tiger Woods
• Committing old fashioned sports star road trip infidelity - Wade Boggs, Barry Bonds, Mickey Mantle, Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson
• Making ignorant, alcohol-induced racist quote - Fuzzy Zoeller
• Gambling so much one has to declare personal bankruptcy/reload - Antoine Walker, John Daly, Art Schlichter
• Placing fun, but serious money bets - Charles Barkley, Michael Jordan, Phil Mickelson
• Unknowingly ingesting a performance enhancing drug leading to victory - Dancer's Image



Mmm...tastes like chicken

I want my chicken fried, just like...

This list is far from complete and the order is purely subjective. Ironically, the public may forgive and cheer for a convicted felon if he fesses up faster than a player who lies about a corked bat; we just don't tolerate someone who stands in front of us and offers up a stone cold lie.

Time will tell how sports fans judge Jim Tressel and where his misstep(s) rank. I suspect he will be stalking the sidelines of a football team in the future, likely as a position coach, but it won't be anytime too soon.

Pennant Races, Juvenile Advice, The Hangover II

Out of it by June 1? 


There was an article in the WSJ that observed how Major League Baseball teams with records below .500 at the opening of June have little/no chance of making it to the post-season. Of course, most Cub fans have resigned themselves to a baseball-less October by mid-May and if you live in Pittsburgh, you've already started the countdown to the Steelers' opener (Wha-...there's a strike? For the love of God, you're not going to take that away from us are you?)

Hey, at least we came to a Pirate game

I suspect that this kind of publicized report will send collective shivers down the owners' collective spineless spines. "Who will come to our games in July if we are out of it by June?" they will ask one another.

Their solution? I am willing to bet that they will use a strategy originally adopted by pre-K soccer moms who couldn't bear to watch their little angels suffer through the indignity of a 1-11 season without a little somethin' for the effort besides a polyester mesh jersey and a year-end Chuck E. Cheese party.

My child is no loser!

These thoughtful mothers came up with the "Everyone Gets a Trophy" plan so that their offspring wouldn't have to face the cruelty of losing during these formative years.

This strategy was later adopted by the NHL and the NBA when owners couldn't bear to see their millionaire players and significantly invested fans suffer through the indignity of cold, cruel winter nights without the chance of participating in truly meaningful (and more profitable) playoff games.

"So you're telling me that there's a chance?!"

Over half of the teams in both these leagues (16 of the 30 teams) manage to squeeze into the post-season competition...leaving the other half to go home without a ribbon, a "participation" certificate, or even a juice box (aka: "losers.")


The stingiest league is MLB, where only a quarter of the teams qualify (8 of 30); after that, it is the NFL, which allows over a third (12 of 32) into post-season play. My hope is that the baseball owners keep some integrity to the regular season so that the teams mired in 5th place by late July don't get some Wilder Wild Card reprieve that strings along their fans even further into the season, forcing them to waste their summers and money on sucky teams that would inevitably get waxed in the playoffs.


Fans can force ownership to take action by their indifference. Sadly, I am afraid that if playoff teams are added without eliminating any regular season, we'll be watching baseball in parkas, ski caps, and gloves...just like we did a couple of days ago.

Why is it that someone who has some simple theory of business success finds it analogous to something his/her kid would do or say...and then they need to share it with the world?

You've seen these columns/blogs/books; enlightened executives will stumble upon the ultimate sales advice or negotiating skill one morning as he happened to stop and listen to his child's gifted ramblings between milk-deprived tantrums.

"What my two-year-old son taught me about closing more deals" or "Everything I need to know about trading the Euro I learned from my twins"...stuff like that. Typically, the author presents the insight as if he has finally solved a problem so complex and intricate that the sharpest of men and women will stop and observe, "Why, that little tyke had it right all along! Why didn't I think of that? I get it now!"

While this juvenile advice may work in business, I have yet to see this kind of crafty insight creep into the world of golf analysis, "What that whining, crying, sniffling, gurgling, toddler can teach you about sand saves" or "How listening to my teenage daughter for 20 minutes a night added 10 yards to my drives." Now those I'd read.

Hey moron, swing slower and keep your head still

Hey, did you know that Hangover II is opening this weekend?

No really, there's a sequel! I kid you not...

I must have seen ten different versions of this preview a total of 50 times. This spot runs at least once during every sporting event that has occurred over the past month. Maybe I am watching too much sports on TV??? Hmm...wonder who the target market is for this film?

I have to admit that I have stopped the DVR a few times to catch that screaming monkey ("Joni...What are you doing!? Stop your fast forwarding, watch this! Check out Ed Helm's tat and just look at that monkey. Crazy stuff.")

And yes, I might just go see it this weekend.

We're baaack...

Gotta Hate the Heat

We Americans love our enemies.

We need someone (or something) that generates a requisite level of dislike and disgust so that we will root hard for the "right" side. In fact, when we are contemplating (or in) war, the government and media will fan the propaganda flames to make sure that the enemy is depicted as appropriately evil...often with good reason and with success.

We want a symbol that represents evil, something to focus our hatred upon. Usually, we get an appropriately horrible person that obliges.TIME magazine marks the disposal of such infamous arch enemies as Hitler, Hussein, Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, and now, Bin Laden with copy-less "X'd"-out covers. And since Osama is now trolling the North Arabian Sea, we'll need, and likely find, someone to take his place.

Sayonara suckas!

On a much less wicked and serious level, we sports fans love to root against our anti-heroes. We need teams and personalities to play the role of villains to stoke interest: the Russian Olympic hockey team vs. the good ol' US of A, the Miami Hurricanes vs. Penn State, Apollo Creed vs. Rocky, Capone vs. Kevin Costner, Rosie O'Donnell vs. Donald Trump (pick a side)...you get the idea.

You freakin' kiddin' me?

Who, but Detroit fans, could have cheered for the "Bad Boys?" Bill Laimbeer? C'mon...the guy would foul an opponent while he was still in a huddle and then give the ref that incredulous/dismissive look/laugh as if to say, "Me? Not me! You must be joking! Hah!"

Before the Oakland Raiders hit such a consistent level of incompetence, they took pride in providing a halfway house for the NFL's druggies, malcontents, and wife beaters. Part of their schtick was to gouge opponents eyes when refs had turned the other way, fumble forward to score winning touchdowns, and avoid personal hygiene for three days prior to Sunday; hell, even their fans would intimidate Mean Joe Greene.

For most baseball fans, their definition of evil is the New York Yankees. It's not that their roster is filled with hateful players...Mariano Rivera, Derek Jeter, and Jorge Posada smile, help sick kids, and respect the sport. It's just that the Yankees don't seem to play by the same rules that pertain to most other teams. They can throw as much money as is necessary to fix a problem. If you are a fan for a mid-market team, they are that bully lurking down the street ready to whisk away your best player with a fistful of cash and pinstriped promises.

You like us, you really like us...

And now, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Miami Heat.

They are the NBA's version of the Duke Blue Devils...except that they have less white guys, no real basketball tradition, and an unknown coach...quick, name the Heat's head coach...ten seconds...five...gotcha!

It isn't that they are a collection of miscreants or truly bad guys...I am sure that Chris Bosh, Lebron James, and Dwyane Wade bought a card or a car for their moms last week. Wade seems likable in those T-Mobile commercials and I suspect LeBron lets his entourage swim in his pool and keeps them outfitted in an appropriate and tasteful amount of bling. Still, I cannot imagine anyone north of the Everglades rooting for these guys.

For most fans, this Heat trio represents all that is wrong with pro sports and free agency: greediness and disloyalty. And what about the photo above after they had signed last summer? What is it, exactly, that they are celebrating? They're excited about the possibility of success, not actual success. These sunbaked fans ate it up...hmmm, a bit premature and overconfident? We shall see...

Ironically, one could point out (to anyone but a Cleveland fan, I suggest) that they did exercise a very American right: their freedom of choice; but sports fans want their players faithful and patient. LeBron's legions had to suffer through many lean years, by God, and now that it is time to reap the rewards of all that hard work, careful drafting, and some "dues paying"...he sure as hell better not abandon us now when the gettin' is good!

So when James gave his heartfelt "takin' my talents to South Beach" speech to a rapt national audience, a villain was born.

I suspect that over the next couple of weeks, most basketball fans will buy into rooting for the Bulls (or certainly against the Heat) given that Chicago has the appropriate positive "ying" opposite the negative "yang" of these three vagabonds. (NOTE: I have conveniently ignored, for purposes of this column, that the Bulls did court Mr. James during last summer's LeBronapalooza, "Naaahhh...we didn't want him anyway!")

I owe it all to Momma....

Our star, Derrick Rose, is humble and home grown. The league called his press conference to announce his MVP and in his speech, he spent the entire time thanking his mother, teammates, coach, trainer, family, and anyone else that had touched his life.

A Derrick Rose interview is about as exciting as a trip to the paint store. But then he steps on the court and zzzziiipp...he scoots by his opponent faster than an aggressive groupie and finds some way to bank in a shot while landing butt first into a sea of photographers, emerging with a smile and a shrug.

So, count me in on a couple weeks (or a month) of Hatin' on the Heat. I'll take Rose and the rest of his Bulls against the evil southern empire.Who's with me?