It's time

I have never been a big soccer fan.
Actually, let's rephrase that. I hate soccer with a fucking passion. In fact, the only individuals on the soccer field I have any respect for are the goalies and the referees because they're allowed to use their hands.
And after ESPN (henceforth to be known as The Evil Empire - thank you Jersey Girl) jammed highlights and advertisements of Euro 2008 down my throat when all I really wanted was a Yankees-Mets score, I have decided to enlighten today's blog by listing some rule changes I would like to see to make the game more Hitman-Friendly.

Rule Change 1 - Add more balls.
This amendment has unlimited potential. Let's add three to start with including one that's a different color from the rest which counts as two points. Television could divide the screen up into four sections so as not to miss any action.

Rule Change 2 - Use a ball loaded with explosives and a timer.
Strictly geared toward the soccer fan who refuses to wash his Arsenal jersey until they beat Manchester United.
At some point, someone's going to die.
Play of course does not stop and there's no added injury time because, well, the guy's not exactly injured. And imagine the suspense.
Limit: one Decom-ball per game. We've got to stop the carnage somewhere.

Rule Change 3 - No blood, no foul
Unless the player's femur is visible, play continues. This speeds up the game and prevents players from faking injury. Should someone take a dive unnecessarily he opens himself up to an immediate pummeling by the opposition until he can get off or is dragged off the playing field.

Rule Change 4 - Shorten the playing field.
Currently, the official dimensions of a soccer field is roughly the size of Boston. Anything smaller would be greatly appreciated.

Rule Change 5 - Provide each team with one non-lethal weapon.
To be used, as needed. Acceptable items include: whip, stun-gun, rubber grenades, fogger, tear gas. Teams may employ attack dogs as a substitute.

Should all five rule changes be accepted, the following shall also be instituted.

Effect #1 - If the game is scoreless at halftime, an additional goal will be added at each end of the field. Teams are not permitted to add a goalie.

Effect #2 - If the game is still scoreless at the end of regulation, each team's goalie will be permanently removed from the game. This includes shoot-outs.

Effect #3 - The team that fails to score will be immediately disbanded following the game.

Don't even get me started on field hockey...

A card-carrying member

In the middle of a somewhat sleepless night, I stumbled across the Stephen A. Smith Heckling Society of Gentlemen.

If, like me, you can't hit the mute button on your remote fast enough anytime this asshole opens his mouth, you will undoubtedly appreciate the following 9 minutes of video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NaqxreC2wgo

I only wish I had thought of this first.

The House of Love

Today is an extremely boring Friday in New Jersey (here for two weeks working various baseball camps).

Between naps, I came across the greatest woman in China. Unbelievable.

The status quo sucks

Please remove your hats while we honor the passing of a true legend...

Some timeless quotes:

"Inside every cynical person, there is a disappointed idealist."

"Not only do I not know what's going on, I wouldn't know what to do about it if I did."

"I went to a bookstore and asked the saleswoman, 'Where's the self-help section?' She said if she told me, it would defeat the purpose."

And my latest favorite:

"You know the good part about all those executions in Texas? Fewer Texans."

Amen, George. Amen.

An Olympian apocalypse

The evening news reported that there will be a "rock, paper, scissors" championship tournament
in Beijing this summer to coincide with the Olympic games.
After initially thinking the anchor was telling me that RPS was an actual Olympic game, I wanted to slit my wrists.
"What the fuck is next," I thought. "Staring contests?"

After a little research, I discovered the following:

www.worldrps.com - The official strategy guide
Are you shittin' me? You've got three fucking choices.

With a few more clicks, I found this:
www.petitiononline.com/2016rps/petition.html - an actual on-line petition to include RPS as an Olympic sport for the 2016 games.
I did not add my name to the list of supporters

And finally, one of the saddest things I've ever seen...
http://100percentinjuryrate.blogspot.com/2007/09/rock-paper-scissors-gets-out-of-hand.html

After realizing there were more than 400,000 links devoted to RPS, I have come to the conclusion that alot of people have way too much time on their hands. And considering I spent my valuable time surfing the subject, so do I.

Finally...

The better half's car is finally getting its' windows tinted with heat-reducing material.
Nothing quite like driving around in a sauna on wheels.
Thank God for technology...

Random rantings

On a day when the temperature reached the 100+ plateau for the fourth day in a row here in Texas, I came up with the following thoughts:

(1) Somebody please tell Cindy McCain she's 54, not 24.
(2) When Tiger has surgery on his knee, will it be on pay-per-view?
(3) Willie Randolph got the shaft.

Save Your Money

On Sunday, the better half and I went to see The Happening.

It wasn't.

Get a room

As I watch the US Open (I love golf), I'm having a hard time deciding who spends more time behind the microphone providing verbal deep-throat for Tiger Woods Inc.?

(1) Dan Hicks
(2) Jim Nantz
(3) Bob Costas
(4) Stuart Scott

I'm willing to take a poll...
Personally, my money's on Nantz.

For the record, I love Tiger Woods and I know he's the best in the world. I just wish the coverage were a little less obviously biased.

Everything I Know About Women...

With Father's Day fast approaching, I thought it would be quite appropriate to share with you the most important piece of advice my father ever gave me with regard to the opposite sex.

Rule #1 - Never start an argument.
Rule #2 - If you somehow find yourself in an argument, get out of it as quickly as possible.
Rule #3 - Know the menstrual cycle.

While I know I will never master the first two rules, I have yet to have any problems with the third, judging by the fact that my wife and I have no children nor has there been a surprise knock at the door.

I had nothing to say...until today

So I've had this site for...well, sometime now but I kept avoiding a "first post" because I didn't feel I had anything exciting to write about.

That changed this past weekend.

For those of you who have no idea who I am or what I do, here's a quick synopsis.

I'm a baseball coach, teaching private lessons in Pflugerville, Texas. Over the years, I've coached at the high school, college and professional levels. More about that some other time.

For the summer, I agreed to coach a 16-under team based out of the center where I teach.


Our first tournament was this past weekend centered in the lovely metropolis of Waco, Texas. (No, I did not check out the tour of the Branch Davidian compound.)


Now, the story of the weekend was not the fact that our team was mercilessly pounded three times (8-3, 13-1, 15-6), nor the fact that I watched our boys commit 8 errors in Game One and another 7 errors in Game 2.


The BIG deal was the drive home. After feeling my steering wheel shake uncontrollably all day Saturday, I simply assumed my alignment was off but figured I could get it taken care of on Monday.


However, about 30 miles outside of Waco, my front left tire literally exploded.
Here's some pictures to prove it although they don't quite do the experience total justice.





Truthfully, I was lucky the car didn't flip on me because when the tire blew, my car started to veer hard to the left.
Somewhere in between I remembered my old driver's education class back in high school and pumped the brakes.

Abruptly going from 75 mph to zero on three tires isn't all that easy but I managed to bring the car to a stop, albeit up against the concrete median in the far left shoulder.

Three hours later, my car and I were delivered to the local Firestone repair shop where I came to the final conclusion that the sadness I experienced after getting drummed three times pales in comparison to the relief I felt knowing I hadn't died on the drive home.

Trust me when I tell you my future posts will be much lighter in nature...