Scene (and question) from a train

For those of you who know the daily joy of regional rail, a quick question.

You board a Friday afternoon rush hour train for a 40-minute trip. The AC is off, and the car is 80% filled. The train is late, and your mood is not great.

You pass by a white male in a blue striped polo shirt and aviator sunglasses who is taking up two seats up curling up in the fetal position to snooze.

On the other end of the car, a black woman is having an energetic conversation on her cell phone about the failure of the person on the other end to arrive in Newark on time with a baby for transfer. This conversation lasts several minutes,and can be heard clearly for several cars, such is her volume.

Do you:

1) Tell the white guy to move over so you can sit next to him, just for malicious spark of ruining his nappy time,

2) Inform the black woman that, if the baby looks and acts anything like her, she's better off flying solo, especially since that might mean she could STFU,

3) Admire the white guy's stick it to the man attitude, especially since the train conductor isn't calling him on it either, and think about pulling it off yourself on some future trip,

4) Crank up the headphones so you can ignore the black woman and not be one of the pissy passive-aggressive people who are telling her to shut up, albeit not to to her face or in a way that she even actually hears, or

5) Write about the whole mess on your wildly unpopular blog to distract yourself from the lack of AC, and to kill most of the trip time with the writing, image find, editing and posting.

I'll leave it to the reader to guess which way I went...

Your World Baseball Classic Scouting Report

Did you know that we were just 17 days before China and Japan tee it up for the World Baseball Classic? More importantly, could anyone on this earth give a good God damn?

Anyway, it's coming like the onset of gout, gray hair and new music that you will hate, so let's focus on why each team can't win, just to see if I can get some foreign nations to provide me with cheap traffic heat.

Australia: Their best known pitcher was last seen pouring gasoline on the D-Rays World Series hopes (Grant Balfour). Their next best known guy is Ryan Rowland-Smith, who used to be Ryan Rowland until he got married. There are no current MLBers in the position players. And all Australians are closet cases, given the criminal genetic past. But other than that, they're golden.

Canada: Somehow, I'm not seeing Rich Harden being healthy enough to make his starts. Jeff Francis as the #2 isn't terrible, but after Jesse Crain, there are no known pitchers in the bullpen.

They also currently have eight catchers on the roster, which I'm presuming is part of some communist government works program (seriously, they have more catchers than infielders).

They've got some outfielders (Jason Bay, Mark Teahen, Aaron Guiel), but they're also employing Matt Stairs, who clearly sold his soul for that NLCS homer. And in the final equation of things, they're Canadians, aka the people who are too nice to ever win anything. It's a wonder we were able to keep them from apologizing the Allies to defeat in WWII.

There's also this: they have Stubby Clapp on the roster. How are we sure this entire team isn't just an elaborate hoax?

China: They've got two Yankees, but neither of them have ever been heard of. The country's single child policy means that all of their players are convinced that they are special little snowflakes, so there won't be any team spirit to speak of.

Since the games won't all happen in China, they will also be struck down by the presence of actual oxygen in the stadiums they play at. And since the world's economy is in free-fall, they'll all be too depressed over the bath they are taking on their Western investments. (See? There *are* bright sides to economic collapse!)

Chinese Taipei: There are 10, count 'em, 10 members of the Brother Elephants on this team. How can that possibly be good for team unity, when 2/5ths of the team are worried about secret Elephant Tusk shakes and getting frozen out by the Brotherhood?

But on the plus side, a china-Chinese Taipei bean-ball war could trigger thermonuclear holocaust. You always knew Bud Selig would be responsible for the End of Days, didn't you?

Cuba: With the thaw in US-Cuban relations following the election of Barack Obama, many observers feel that there will be an eventual normalization in the hostilities between the two countries. Which means, of course, that nothing like that will happen, and the players on the Cuban team will blow it for everyone by emigrating en masse. It's a little hard to execute a 4-6-3 double play when the shortstop is making a run for it over the left field wall, and the first baseman is trying to look gringo in the opposing dugout.

Besides, Elian Gonzalez isn't on the team (yet), so there are no magical players to overwhelm all media coverage and allow the rest of the team to win the tournament on the sly.

Dominican Republic: Ah, here's a favorite. With a roster that's entirely made up of MLB talent, the island that has single-handedly populated MLB with talented Ramirezi should be the front-runners, but there's already chinks in the armor with Albert Pujols bailing out, Pedro Martinez turning 60, and Carlos Marmol becoming useless in advance of his flameout year in the Cub bullpen.

Add in the ticking time bomb that is Francisco Liriano's elbow and the overall lack of experienced relievers, and there's more than enough reason to see a DR D Feat. But if they do win, no one shake hands with Moises Alou!

Italy: No, seriously, Italy has a team (and no, there isn't a single MLB-owned player on it). Considering they haven't been good at baseball since before the color barrier was broken, and that their national history in warfare tells me that if they are behind in the fifth inning, they all switch to the other team...

I could go on. But there's too much traffic to this blog from guys in North Jersey who work in, um, "construction"... so I'll just let this one stay where it is right now, before I wind up hung from my toes. (For those of you counting Mussolini's Death references, this now gets the blog up to six. It's something we're all very proud of.)

Japan: Seven MLBers here, all of them reasonably competent, sprinkled amidst a ton of Ham Fighters, Golden Eagles and Yakult Swallows. This blog tries very hard to not go for the cheap humor of The Gay Joke...

But we're not made of stone, people! (Or wood, for that matter.) The team from the Rising Sun goes down in a fit of adolescent giggling and towel-snaps.

Korea: Jung Bong Is Back! The best name in MLB history rolls his own for the LG Lions these days, which means that in the off-season, he's making your appliances. Between him and the immortal BK Kim (current MLB affiliation: Please, Dear God In Heaven, Not My Team), I'm not seeing their pitching as being quite at the championship level.

(Oh, and for heaven's sake, BK's lost his passport. This man needs his own reality show.)

There is also this: there are 10 Lees on this team, and five of them are outfielders. No chance for them not having a crippling batting out of order problem... every single damn inning.

Mexico: Half of this team is on an MLB roster, but when the best of these players is Jorge Cantu, you're not living in fear of their talent level. Can Oliver Perez fail on an international level under pressure, when he's shown himself to be such a rock for the Mets in pressure situations?

Ah, now I've given you all a reason to watch now, have I? Dammit. I know I should have just stayed with the cockfighting and illegal alien jokes.

Netherlands: Who knew the Netherlands played baseball? I did, but only after getting thrown against a wall by the 6'5" Marlins RHP and de facto pro wrestler Rick VandenHurk. If you want to run against the forces of VandenHurkamania, you're on your own.

(Oh, and seriously? Winning baseball can not be played in wooden shoes. This team can go finger a dyke. Hey-oh!)

Panama: Two current MLB pitchers and no infielders means an awful lot of pitching around Carlos Lee, and being from Panama means that no one has paid them any mind since the elder Bush was in the White House.

And since I have nothing else to say about them, let's close with a gratuitous insult to Colorado closer Manual Corpas. I want my corpses automatic, dammit.

Puerto Rico: What gives? You people are part of the United States, dammit. Giving you your own team is like giving Florida it's own team, only less competitive.

True, there's a load of MLB talent here and multiple Molinas, but there's no way that a team with such questionable sovereignty can win so prestigious a title as this. (Ah, sarcasm. Your key to filling a bloghole.)

South Africa: There's no way to get out of this one with my advertisers intact, is there? Nope. Nor is there a way for a team with no front-line MLB talent, not to mention the very worst nation karma in the field -- seriously, China's looking cuddly next to you folks -- to pull off a win in our lifetimes.

But on the plus side, they get to go home and get a close look at Zimbabwe.

USA: These spoiled SOBs? Forget it. Who on this roster is going to so much as break a sweat for their mother country? Every single player on the roster is on an MLB roster, with guaranteed money ahead of them and a team at home that is just waiting for them to get hurt -- which would be the very fast end to this stupid little timewaste.

So expect a level of effort that would shame a front-line NFL player in a July mini-camp, and a shameful national defeat... that will be forgotten about within a week, because any team can win in a short series, and no one in this country could care about this.

Venezuela: Viva Hugo! Here's your winning team, boyos, behind the startling arms of King Felix, Johan and Big Z, and the Miguel Cabrera / Magglio Ordonez offense. Hey, if it was good enough for a 74 win Tiger team in 2008, it's good enough to be the best in the world in a trumped up tournament that no one cares about...

No one, that is, except for the Venezuelans, who will be, how shall we say, motivated by the rather strong leadership of El Hugo. Who needs to win this the most? Why, the friends and families of the national team's players, of course!

The Early Front-Runner for Quote of the Year

I consider myself a casualty, one of the many casualties of the war on terror. - Former Bush attorney general and de facto criminal Alberto Gonzalez, currently unemployed

A Small Note To Everyone Who Lives Exclusively In The Future

Last night at the casino, I sit myself down to a guy in a McNabb jersey. He had been to the game the previous night. I asked him, as part of the usual talk you'd have with a total stranger, whether he thought the team had a chance against the Giants next week in New York. And his response was a classic Philly Fan moment.

"Yeah, I think they'll win, but I don't think they'll make the playoffs. They are going to win just so enough games to really screw our draft position."

He was one of two people at the table who I took a lot of chips from, of course.

This Horrible Cassandra-Esque Power of Knowing the Grim Future is also common among NBA fans, writers and commentators, who are all a-twitter about the 2010 NBA free agent class. And I have only one wish for these people.

Please put yourself into a medical facility now, so that we can be saved from your nonsensical blatherings for the next 500-odd days. Especially the part about how speculation in this fashion is good for the game and the fans, since it gives us all something wonderful to talk about (LeBron to the Knicks! LeBron to the Nets! LeBron to the Pistons! LeBron to Europe! Oooh, aaahhh, I'm all a tingle!) while we are not, you know, ACTUALLY PAYING ATTENTION TO THE FREAKING GAMES THAT ARE IN FRONT OF US.

There is a disease among sports telecasters, commentators, and to a far lesser extent, bloggers, but only if you consider Bill Simmons to be a blogger. That disease involves being so wrapped up in being a Sharp (in the wrestling lingo), instead of a mark.

Marks, you see, ACTUALLY WATCH THE GAMES. We care about whether our team is winning in the here and now, because we don't really care to think about the future; we care to exist in the actual moment, where LeBron James is the best player on a top 5 NBA team, instead of later, where he might be the best player on a *different* top 5 NBA team.

Sharps, on the other hands, know about the salary cap. They're certain that they would be better at running a franchise than the people who do this for a living. (One suspects they are also the same people who know best about how to run the government.)

Look, I *get* the temptation to think ahead, especially if you are a fan of a team without anything too spectacular to think about right now. I've made my bones that the Eagles need to move on from the Reid Era, and I'm not changing that tune just because they finally won a night game. I'm not even going to change that tune if they beat New York next week. Hell, I'm prepared to call for Reid's resignation this year into February if I have to.

But this whole wankery of wanting to be Virtual GM and run trade simulations and speculate endlessly about what's going to happen in the far future... well, that way lies madness, people. That way lies three-year Presidential election campaigns and fan bases that can't be happy with anything but a championship, rather than the simple and elegant pleasure of a team wining more than you thought they would, or developing young talent.

So if you're feeling a backlash against the We're Always Doomed People, or the This Season is Meaningless People... well, good. Feel free. Call me on it when I do it, even.

Because if you live your entire life waiting for something great to happen, you'll have wasted an awful lot of your life missing all of the things that are actually really good.

And that's all I've got to say about that. (At least until the next time that someone brings up their mock draft and free agent boards...)

Epic Drop: Top 10 Questions for Tony Kornheiser

The casual reader -- not that we have any casual readers; I know that all of you recite these words in weekly prayer group meetings -- will detect a faint touch of hostility towards Mr. Kornheiser in today's link. You might have to read it a little closely, but on further review, I'm pretty sure it's there.

Now, as a fan of the Eagles, Sixers and A's, I like to think that I can endure a fair amount of annoyance. I'm also the father to two little girls, and while my patience with them is not infinite, it does exist, and there's more of it than there used to be. A lot more.

So why, exactly, does this chancre sore still rankle, 19 hours after the Cowboys edged the Eagles?

I'm really not that upset by the loss; it was disappointing, perhaps, but not world-ending. I have no great goat for the Eagles, other than a continuing worry that the game has passed Brian Dawkins by, and that the game was never even in the same area code as Sean Considine. But that's for another day and post. Right here and now, we're going to continue to examine the toothache that is Kornheiser, and to a lesser but not very much lesser extent, all NFL telecasts.

When I lived in Northern California, I had some nice neighbors who had been on the block for coming up on two decades. We watched their dog and swam in their pool, and they were terrific people. Like nearly everyone else in the Bay Area, they were originally from somewhere else -- in this case, Wisconsin. They were also diehard Packer fans, and used to have season tickets at Lambeau.

You can imagine my surprise when I heard that they were looking to move to... Southern California. Because the Bay Area winters (in which the weather rarely drops below, say, 45, and it never slows at low elevation, and you can enjoy nearly perfect weather for up to 10 months of the year) had gotten too cold for them, Lambeau Past Be Damned.

The point is that with age does not come a thicker skin, or at least, not always. It also comes with the wisdom to realize that you don't have to put up with something you don't like.

Now, I don't know a single person who is really enthused about a set of NFL announcers. Do you? Is there anyone out there who you're really excited to hear call a game, or is it just a matter of which particular moron you get to avoid? Yay, it's the Fox #1 team -- no Tony Siragusa! Yay, it's the Fox #2 team -- no Troy Aikman! Etc. (SNF/MNF, of course, offers no escape, unless you consider double-header telecasts and the Mike and Mike and Mike gigglefest a relief.)

So your options are to figure out a way to simulcast the radio feed (which is looking more and more appetizing, if a little bit Pravda-esque), or pipe in the good Westwood One radio telecasts of Harry Kalas and Marv Albert... and, um, why?

Seriously, NFL, why?

You can telecast the game into Spanish. How about giving us an actual football option -- not some half-assed hybrid of Sports Entertainment, but an actual, focused, not dumbed down for the laypeople feed. I don't care who delivers it. I might even pay extra. I'm begging.

Because the simple fact of the matter is that three-plus hours is an eternity of time to spend with people who you would not piss on if they were on fire. And a league that makes its fans endure that routinely... runs the risk of fans realizing that they have other options. Many, in fact.

A Brief Word to Tony Kornheiser, Who I Hate More Than Words Can Express

If you're looking for a nice and calm reaction to the Eagles-Cowboys MNF game -- one for the ages, really -- well, I'm kind of spent right now, so you aren't getting one.

But words, honestly, can not describe my hatred for Tony Kornheiser. You've got one of the best games in recent NFL history going on in front of you, but Cornhole had to talk about...

> Terrell Owens' history with Donovan McNabb

> The financial worth of the Cowboys franchise

> The year-old Andy Reid's kids story

> Jessica Simpson

> Fourteen other things that had nothing to do with the game that I can't remember, because my head is still bleeding

OK, I've said this before. I didn't want to say it again. I suspect you don't want to read it again. But here goes.

CAN YOU, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DO YOUR CRAPTACULAR SPORTS PUNDIT SHOW DURING THE FREAKING WEEK AND TALK ABOUT THE GAME THAT'S IN FRONT OF YOU?

AND IF THE ANSWER IS NO, CAN YOU STAY THE HELL HOME AND NEVER, EVER DARKEN MY TELEVISION AGAIN?

Today's Small Moment of Hate: Greg Norman

Consider me shocked, shocked, to see Greg Norman fail in the stretch of a major. (Hey, just wondering, why is this guy an endorsement winner? Does golf's demographic identify with old guys who are most famous for falling apart when it matters, or is it just we like Australian accents?)

Today's Small Moment of Hate

To the more cliche-prone rappers that Pandora keeps playing for me...

You *can* leave rap along. It does not need you.

(Now, put your damn hands down, and say No.)

Today's Small Moment of Hate

Don Imus says he's being misunderstood, not racist, when he asks what color Adam "Mr." Jones is, after hearing of his various arrests and lack of Pac-Mania.

Adam "Mr." Jones then says he's praying for Imus.

No, seriously.

A quick question for all of the readers who consider themselves religious... isn't "I'm praying for you" one of the nicest ways to insult someone, or is that just my jaded ears working? (In a way, oddly, that "You're in our prayers" is not.)

In any event... this Small Moment of Hate is brought to you by Vengeful Jebus, who smites those that drag him into Grade-Z celebrity dustups. Beware the wrath of Vengeful Jebus!

Today's Small Moment of Hate

Opening in November... Shrek the Musical.

On some level, I'd like Mike Myers to be killed.

It's nothing personal, really. It's just that if he continues to live, he's going to keep making craptainment that media conglomerates and quoting meatheads will make difficult to ignore.

This has been another Small Moment of Hate.