Life as an AZ sports fan

Hey all. It's been a while. Let's catch up real quick, then on to my point. Work still sucks, I've got a new gig in a old school punk band, and my daughter turned 18/went to prom/graduating high school all in a 10 day span. Things are pretty crazy in umbrella land.

However, I'm here to talk sports. I'm watching the NBA playoffs, yet the Suns aren't involved. Steve Kerr and Robert Sarver have ruined this team. Now Alvin Gentry is the new coach. Next year will suck too.

The Coyotes look like they're leaving town. They've pretty much sucked as long as they've been in Phoenix. I'd like to be more upset about this, but it's hard to get irate when the team you stole from another city leaves. It's like getting upset when your wife cheats on you, but forgetting that you started fucking her when she was still married to her first husband.

But the real pain for me is the Diamondbacks. The 13-22 Diamondbacks. Let's have a contest in the comments section to come up with the best two word phrase to describe this team. Unmitigated disaster. Underachieving mess. Giant clusterfuck. All of these work.

We've had injuries. Brandon Webb, Stephen Drew, Tony Clark, and Connor Jackson have all been on the DL this season. But that's no excuse. The real culprit is the offense. It's horrible. It's so bad, that from now on, I'm calling them the Diamndbacks. No O, get it? Thank you, don't forget to tip your waitresses.

Let's take a look at the numbers. Out of the 30 teams in baseball, here's where they rank. Batting average, 30th. Runs scored, 29th (San Diego has one less run). Hits, 28th. On base percentage, 30th. Slugging percentage, 24th (this surprised me). Average with runners in scoring position, 30th. Scoring position with two outs, 30th. And my personal favorite: six of the position players who started opening day are batting .215 or less. SIX!!

As awesome as Augie is (hitting .310 in limited playing time), he can't do it all himself. The manager, Bob Melvin, was justifiably fired. However, they hired some front office puppet who has NEVER managed a game at any level in his life. Genius.

Esteemed leader, or chess team star?

I'm so disgusted, I can't even do any live blogs. This team has openly quit on its manager, and the fans are letting them know. I went to Monday's game against the Reds, and I have never seen a crowd that small. And everyone there was in a foul mood. I didn't know such a tiny crowd could boo so loud. Worse thing is, it's only May.

You know it's a cold day in Hell when the Cardinals are the best franchise in town.

Retarded experiments, from the archive

I have a pretty strong curiosity. I wonder about something, then obsess about it until I find an answer. Been that way my whole life. In these wonderful days of the interwebs, I can usually find an answer pretty quick. But sometimes, there are questions that mankind has yet to answer. This leads me to doing some pretty stupid things, which I like to call Retarded Experiments.

For example, one time in high school chemistry class, we were doing some experiment that involved these little beads. Calcium something-or-other. These things were super absorbent, and if you left them sitting out, they would get little pools of water around them from absorbing the moisture from the air.

So the young curious Umbrella was wondering something. No, not what would happen if you stuck them up your ass. But now that you mention it... No, I wondered what would happen if you immersed them in water. This had the potential for awesome written all over it. I asked my teacher, and he said, "Why don't you try it and see?"

Hell yeah. This is why chemistry class ruled. You could blow shit up. So I grabbed some of the beads, and put them in a beaker with some H2O (that's water for you non-geniuses).

They just sat there. No explosions. No boiling. Nothing.

That was anti-climatic. But, what would happen if you put them in hydrochloric acid? My teacher was on the other side of the room, but I'm sure he would have said, "Why don't you try it and see?" So I did.

It happened instantaneously. I didn't know so much smoke could come out of such a small beaker. Plus, it was pretty stinky. I was praying it wasn't toxic, and had to get rid of the evidence. I quickly dumped it down the sink, and turned on the water.

This just made everything worse. At this point, the gig was up. The room was full of this smoke, and we were forced to evacuate. Just one of my many one-day suspensions in the science wing of the school.

However, that's not a true Retarded Experiment. Most average people don't have access to hydrochloric acid and whatever those beads were. No, a true retarded experiment can be conducted by any idiot with an unhealthy imagination. And alcohol. Usually a lot of alcohol is involved.

The one I want to discuss happened at a tailgate. We were drinking, grilling, throwing the football, and generally having a good time. It was starting to get close to kickoff, so it was clean up time. We were getting ready to dump the coals from the grill, when I wondered...

What would happen if you put an unopened ketchup package on hot coals?

We had forgotten to bring ketchup to this tailgate, so someone had made a run and taken some from a nearby McDonalds. I asked my question aloud, and suddenly, everyone wanted to know the same thing. In my mind, I could see the ketchup getting hot, boiling, pressure building inside the packet, and then BOOM, an awesome explosion of molten ketchup flying everywhere. This was gonna rule!

Now I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid. I know that molten ketchup will probably hurt like hell. So I made sure everyone stood back a bit. I didn't want my curiosity to maim anyone but me. I threw a packet on the coals, and waited for the awesome to begin.

I waited. And waited. And waited some more. No explosion. Apparently, whatever they use to seal the package shut has a lower melting point than the boiling point of ketchup. So all it did was ooze ketchup all over the coals. You could feel the disappointment hanging in the air.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the only thing hanging in the air. One thing I didn't account for is what ketchup burning on hot coals smells like. It's hard to describe, but my guess is that if Satan was lactose intolerant, and ate a bunch of lasagna, this is what his toilet would smell like. Horrible. Now everyone was pissed because these stink molecules were stuck in their noses.

To this day, I'm not allowed to get near the grill with ketchup. And that happened over five years ago.

Thoughts from a broken hearted sports fan

My first words after the game ended? "We should have went to the sports bar."

Yes, I chose to have a Super Bowl party at my house last night. My friends and family put undue pressure on me, and I caved. Unfortunately, I caved on Saturday, not giving me much time to prepare. I had previous commitments on Saturday (which I may post about later), so I had to get everything ready on Sunday morning.

I got up early, and headed to the grocery store to get the necessary goodies. I wouldn't be cooking this time, since I usually prep everything the night before, so my guests would have to suffer with pre-packaged snacking. Sucks for them.

The first thing I noticed was that the store was FILLED with people wearing Cardinal gear. Let me state, I have lived in Tucson since 1996, and lived in the Phoenix area for many years before that. Of all the time I've lived in Tucson, I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen people wearing Cardinals crap. On the one hand, I guess it's good that after all these years, people are starting to support the team. On the other hand, I hate bandwagon fans. If this were an SAT question it would go along the lines of "Bandwagon fans :: Sports fans as Child molesters :: Prison inmates". They're all members of the same group, but the second ones want to anally rape the first ones. I guess I just feel like these new fans haven't suffered through the shitty times to be able to truly appreciate the good time (singular) with this team.

Secondly, I made a couple of errors in execution of my shopping plan. The first one was listening to my kids, who insisted that you can buy white board cleaner at the grocery store. They were wrong. The second one was my fault completely. A classic rookie blunder. I was loading up the cart with various beer and alcohol when one of the stockers came up and asked, "Is it almost 10 yet?" I thought to myself, "What a weird time to end a shift", and responded, "You've got a couple of hours still." He continued to look at me like I was a retard when it dawned on me. In Arizona, you can't buy alcohol on Sunday before 10:00. I completely spaced this one, and now I was going to have to go back out on a second trip.

After the post-10:00 alcohol and office supply run, I set up our gambling board. This is another Umbrella Super Bowl party tradition. I go to the websites of the casinos, and come up with the ridiculous prop bets they have, and write them on the white board. All the guests pitch in some money, we all make our bets, and winner takes all. Even the casual fans really get into the game when a bunch of money is to be won.

People showed up, and I was a wreck. This was as nervous as I think I have ever been for a game. That is very unlike me, and it was pissing me off. Unfortunately, I think it was pissing everyone else off too, because I was pacing around like a caged tiger on meth. Obviously, I needed to drink more.

As for the game, unfortunately, it went as I thought it would. I thought the Cardinals would play tough, but the Steelers would win it. It still sucked, knowing that it was THIS close. The play at the end of the first half was a killer, and everyone that watches football knew it immediately when it happened. It was a pretty somber halftime at the Umbrella house.

We all know how the game ended, and I was unusually bummed out by this. And somehow, apparently my cable company showed about 30 seconds of porn right after the Fitzgerald TD, and I missed it. I had a house full of people, and nobody saw it? How is that possible? (Edit: I found out it was only on the standard definition signal. Us high-end HD bitches missed the fun). To add salt to my wounds, I ended up getting 2nd in the gambling pool. The winner? One of my older daughter's friends, who's hair coloring scheme reminds me of Pepe Le Pew. And to top it all off, after everyone left, I managed to blow my diet for the first time ever by downing a bag of Doritos (who had the best commercial, BTW). Oh well, at least I learned a lot about the Power Up Gambia mission from the back of the bag.

I have a dilemma

I have been bragging about how I am the one solely responsible for the Cardinals making the Super Bowl. Pretty much everyone who knows me accepts this as fact. However, I have run into a problem because of my stupid superstitions.

For the game against the Falcons, I was doing some running around, and realized I wouldn't be able to get home in time for kickoff. So I decided to stop inside a sports bar and watch the first half, and head home at halftime. What can I say? I am the master of improvisation.

It had been a while since I've watched a local team in a sports bar, and I forgot how much fun it is. Friendly folks, alcohol, good food. What more can you ask for? I ended up ditching the "go home at halftime" part of the plan, and stayed for the whole game.

Fast forward to the Panthers game. I was telling my lady friend how much fun I had last week, and we decided to go there to watch the game. As fate would have it, the only open table was the one I sat at the previous week. I commented on that strange fact. And wouldn't you know, the Cardinals crushed the Panthers in a game none of us saw coming. Some higher power was obviously at work here.

Ahead one more week. I grab the kids and my lady friend, and off we go to the bar. Some might question my parenting techniques here, but fuck 'em. The kids have never been exposed to this, and they had a blast. The crowd was rowdy, tons of food, good times. And for the third straight week, the Cardinals pulled the upset.

So now, I have to go there for the Super Bowl, right? And here is where conflict sets in. One of my friends informed me that if I am taking responsibility for them going to the game, I have to have the Super Bowl party to finish the job. Damn good logic, if you ask me. So now I'm conflicted. The 2008 NFL champion will depend on this decision. It is not to be taken lightly.

Here is my list of pros and cons to each approach...

Pros of going to sports bar
1) Fun atmosphere with lots of hardcore fans.
2) Good variety of food.
3) No post-game cleanup required.
4) No shopping, cleaning and preparing food.
5) No worrying about people trashing my shit.
6) Hot waitresses in football jerseys.
7) Don't have to worry about my drunk friends driving home.

Pros of having party at my house
1) Much cheaper.
2) Surrounded by friends.
3) Not potentially surrounded by drunken idiots. (Not entirely true, but at least they are MY drunken idiots)
4) Don't have to go to bar 3 hours before kickoff to make sure I get the lucky table.
5) Kids and lady friend prefer this choice.
6) Won't have to deal with any asshat Steeler fans.
7) Can get as drunk as I want without worrying about driving home.

I'm torn. If anyone is reading this, let me know what you think the right decision is.

Best. Weekend. Ever.

Here I am, on my lunch break, still a little hungover, and on the high of an epic weekend. On Friday, my oldest daughter's team makes the city championship for the first time in school history. My youngest daughter tells informs me that she was named student of the month at her junior high. Naturally, I'm pleased. And yet, this was just the beginning.

Saturday, I watch my Sun Devils gut out a tough OT win over UCLA on national TV. (Oh, and Verne Lundquist, if I ever hear you say Ruksiks again, I'm going to jump on a plane and choke your Scooby Doo talking ass). That evening was followed by yet another epic UA meltdown against USC. The weekend is going great.

But nothing compares to watching the Cardinals go to the Super Bowl. I'll have more thoughts on this when the reality of the situation sinks in, and I can respond without sounding like a 12 year old fan girl (OMG! This is so awesome!!!1!!)

Then, at 10:00 last night, still pretty drunk and euphoric, I get a knock on my door. My lady friend decided that I was going to be her booty call. Yep, I feel so cheap. Seriously women, quit complaining about that, it was an amazing finish to an amazing weekend.

If the Cardinals make the Super Bowl, you can thank me

Football has been my favorite sport for most of my life. I went through a phase when I was a kid where baseball was king, but it was short lived. Growing up in Phoenix, I loved the Sun Devils, but we never had a NFL team, so I usually cheered for whoever had the most ex-Devils.

Then the Cardinals came. My dreams had come true. I finally had a real team to cheer for. I had been waiting my whole life for this. But I failed to account for one small factor.

The Cardinals sucked. Bad.

Still, I'm not one of those lame fair-weather fans. I wore my gear around. I went to games. I was there for Timm Rosenbach's debut against the Elway-led Broncos in a beatdown of epic proportions, where the highlight of the game was almost starting a riot by leading an enthusiastic "Chip Elway's Tooth" chant while surrounded by Bronco fans.

I was there for Jake Plummer's debut against the Titans, where he had more interceptions than that asshole in Seattle who cockblocked me all night (you know who you are). I sat through a rainstorm while watching Herschel Walker, right after he was traded to the Vikings, shred the Cards defense. I called in sick to work to watch a game that set football back 50 years as the Bucs and Cardinals battled in an epic 3-0 shootout.

Even after I moved to Tucson, I tried to attend some games, but not with the regularity I did before. The last game I went to in Sun Devil Stadium was when they beat the Lions, one of only two wins I've witnessed in person. When they moved to the new stadium, tickets were harder to come by, and I've only managed to go to one game there.

I must sidestep for a moment, and let you know that since 1991 (last year excluded, more on that later), I've thrown a Super Bowl party at my house. This thing has taken on a life of its own. We all usually get pretty hammered, gamble on everything, and generally have a blast. Even the weekend before we moved to Tucson, we had our last Phoenix party, and everyone sat on our boxes. My ex-wife was pretty pissed, but this was tradition, dammit! That was the year Michael Jackson was the halftime show. I was pretty wasted by halftime (Cowboys were beating up the Steelers pretty good), so I was grilling, and started singing "We are the World" in my best king of pop voice. My friend Oz yelled at me, "If he sings that, I'll suck your dick!" It couldn't have been more than five seconds when MJ raises his hands and starts wailing "We are the worrrrrld". Biggest cheer of the night in my house. Bastard never did fulfill his obligation.

One of the drawbacks to my parties is my TV isn't very big. Every year someone tells me I need to get a big screen TV. I have a good job, I can afford it, so I have no reason not to. However, every year I respond with, "If the Cardinals go to the Super Bowl, I'll get a big screen." And we would go another year with my crappy small TV.

Fast forward to 2008 and the weeks leading up to Super Bowl XLII (that's 42 for those of you who don't speak Roman). My lady friend brings up something. Her son was playing in a baseball tournament in Vegas on the Thu-Fri-Sat before the Super Bowl. Add on the fact that the Super Bowl was just before her birthday, and I've always wanted to go to Vegas for the Super Bowl, this was a no brainer. Party in Vegas this year.

Gambling on the Super Bowl was like my degenerate gambling wet dream. I was betting on every stupid prop bet I could find. I didn't even care how much money I lost, I just wanted to be ridiculous. However, something funny happened...

I was winning.

All these stupid bets kept coming through. It was highlighted by me predicting Plaxico Burress would have the last score in the game. Truly my crowning achievement in gambling history. I even took a picture to commemorate the moment.

all the winners, thanks to the last Giants TD

I ended up making a nice chuck of change that night. So what did I do with all the winnings? I bought a 70" HD TV. Good times.

So it appears I was incorrect. For all these years, I should have been saying, "If I buy a big screen TV, the Cardinals will go to the Super Bowl". However, now that I've posted this, I probably jinxed the team, and they will lose Sunday.