My Brain is Toast

The Mets’ west coast swing is killing me. (Although getting to watch a Vin Scully broadcast is a real joy, like getting an extra dollop hot fudge on the sundae.) My body can’t take staying up so late. I took a nap before last night’s game, but was fading badly in the 4th inning, and couldn’t make it past the 7th. It was 12-8 when I finally gave up and went to bed. (When it was 10-7 I said aloud “We need another field goal.”) The first thing I did when I got up this morning was turn on the computer and check the box score.

It doesn’t help that I’ve been getting up earlier and earlier these past couple of weeks. And for no particular reason; it’s not a work-related change in schedule or anything like that. Perhaps it’s the alignment of the planets. But it’s gotten to the point where I’m getting up at the crack of dawn, which is highly unusual as I’ve been a Night Person for most of my life. Perhaps this is mid-life crisis.

Or Mets Life crisis.

Last weekend I was cleaning up files on the computer and stumbled upon something called 091806_flonyn_clinch_350.wmv. I had no idea what it was so I opened the file. Windows Media Player came up, and like a ghost appearing from out of the dark came the Marlins-Mets game of 18 September, the one where we clinched the NL East last season. I then recalled that MLB.com had made the game available as a free download; that’s how I got it. Given the way the team has been playing the past several weeks, it was bittersweet to watch the end of that game: the players with shy smiles on their faces as the reality of post-season crept into their minds and they played the final outs before bursting into celebration. That time feels so far away now, in a season where the team seems to lack energy and spirit. Finding that video was almost like finding a photograph of or a letter from an old boyfriend (or girlfriend, or ex-husband or -wife) — the one who you thought was The One, the one who you thought would be there forever. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever get that feeling again.

Loving a sports team — like loving a person — can really make you lose your mind.

In addition the Mets’ funk, I’m still discombobulated over Dan Patrick not being on the air. The convergence of a listless Mets team and weekday afternoons without DP and KO is the perfect synergy of suckness. (If the Mets keep playing poorly our new theme song might well change to My Shit’s Fucked Up: “That shit that used to work? Well, it don’t work now.”) It sounds like Dan will be back for Farewell Week before starting his new job. I’m looking forward to it and to his new show. Preliminary indications are that it will be available on a number of platforms (like, everywhere except via fortune cookie and carrier pigeon), so I won’t have to go out and get XM or Sirius to be able to continue my DP addiction. It would be super if KO got on board with the new show, too. There’s been a disturbance in the Force and we need the guys back to make things right.

It’s obvious that Dan won’t be back until the Big Finish, but it’s been fun to tune into The Show That Is Not The Dan Patrick Show each day and watch as ESPN keeps throwing new hosts on the wall and seeing which one will stick (from Karl, in “En Hielo*”).

I’m already worn out on the Michael Vick story, and it has just begun as NFL training camps start up and the legal machinations get rolling. The charges are gruesome, but I’m willing to let justice run its course — remembering well that justice took a wrong turn before finding the right path in the Duke lacrosse case. I am totally with Scoop, who wrote after Stephen A. Smith’s turn at the wheel:

This was definitely a day I would have much preferred to hear Dan’s reasoned voice …

Followed, of course, by Keith’s voice also saying a lot of wise, sensible things, adding not just heat but light.

That’s a wonderful turn-of-phrase, and it sums up my dissatisfaction with most of the ESPN lineup of hosts and most of what passes for commentary (news, politics, or otherwise) these days: Too much heat, not enough light.

I’ve brewed a fresh pot of coffee to ice down in preparation for tonight’s Mets game. Since the players aren’t allowed to take amphetamines anymore I need to stand in solidarity with them and find other ways to stay up for these late games.

Let’s Go, Mets!

Dan Patrick: The Farewell Tour (ix) — the Stephen A. Smith Detour

On Dan Patrick: The Farewell Tour (viii):

Barb: Today’s host is horrible! I’d heard of Steven A. Smith before but never listened to him until today. How can someone like this make a living at broadcasting? He is the anti-DP.

CP: Unbearable. Turned it off after 5 minutes.

Mike: SMith’s not obnoxious but he is way LOUD. He’s not bad but 3 hours of him is too much. I can take 3 hours of Cowherd but not Smith.

Scoop: OMG, Smith is AWFUL. I listened to ten minutes or so of him ranting and frothing at the mouth about how everyone was rushing too quickly to judge Michael Vick, and to convict him even though he is innocent until proven guilty, and was just waiting for him to play the “racism” card. Just waiting for him to say that there was something racist about white people being upset because a black man has a federal indictment for having a dogfighting facility on property he owns. As if people of all colors aren’t upset. As if mistreating animals is somehow OK so long as you can try to claim that it’s part of someone’s “culture.”

All I know is, he sounded like a volcano ready to explode, so I changed the station.

This was definitely a day I would have much preferred to hear Dan’s reasoned voice saying “OK, OK, I know he hasn’t been convicted yet…but all signs point in that direction, and what are some of his sponsors and what is the NFL saying by continuing to stand by him? This whole situation is disgusting. Then again, isn’t it also disgusting when NFL players beat up their girlfriends/wives? Are we too accepting of that? Do we just kind of expect them to get into trouble for that?”

Followed, of course, by Keith’s voice also saying a lot of wise, sensible things, adding not just heat but light.

Everyone repeat after me: “Hey now, hey now…”

Mike, buddy ….

With all due respect. I’m sure Smith is a very nice man and that his family loves him. But his broadcast style is an affront to just about all the senses. Even the sixth one.

I recognized his voice as soon as he came on-air and my immediate reaction was “Uh-oh.” But I wanted to give him a chance. So I listened for a while and after about 10 minutes of the Michael Vick story I had to turn off the radio. I’m cool with the concept of “innocent until proven guilty” and that simply because of his celebrity Vick is going to have a very difficult time while the legal system plays out. But I don’t need to have Smith beat me over the head with it. I figured I’d give him a few minutes and then tune back in after he moved on to another story.

Wrong-o!

I turned the radio back on and he was still going on about Vick. If anything, his level of intensity had increased. I turned the radio off again and waited another few minutes. Like, come on: baseball season is on, NFL training camps are opening up, David Beckham’s American debut is on tap, the British Open is being played over in Scotland (is Tiger Woods wearing that way sexy shirt he wore at Oakmont?) Surely he’ll get to another topic. I turned the radio back on.

Wrong-o!

He was still carrying on about Vick. Geez Louise, talk about a man-crush. And perhaps fueled by a race-crush? Are all African American journalists obligated to defend Vick? I would like to have heard from Michael Wilbon; here is his most recent column on the subject.

As for Smith: You had your chance. Three strikes. You are out. Game over. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

If ESPN is trying to make us miss DP (like we already don’t) this was the perfect way to do it.

So the Farewell Tour takes a small detour and sends this song out to Stephen A. Smith:

Gotta love those two wild and crazy Bulgarians who introduce the singer.