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Showing posts with label Texas Rangers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Texas Rangers. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 30, 2019

Donald Trumb: The POTUS That Couldn’t Pass The SAT

   Erosion commenced at exactly 11:57 a.m. on Jan. 21, 2017.
   On his first official day on the job, Donald Trump simultaneously tweeted his arrival in The White House and signaled his attack on the English language:
   I am honered to serve you, the great American People, as your 45th President of the United States!
   After 2+ years of being insulted by his fundamental misspellings, grammatical gaffes and unfathomable voids of common sense, I have come to this undeniable conclusion:
   Donald J. Trump couldn’t pass the SAT.
   On the Scholastic Assessment Test there are 96 questions pertaining to writing, language and reading comprehension, punctuated by a written essay. From what we’ve been subjected to, there is zero evidence to suggest the President has anything firmer than a 5th-grade grasp of his country’s prominent communication system.
   After being mocked for his salutatory tweet, he attempted to correct honored … but instead compounded the problem and exposed his intellectual impotence by editing into honoured. Since that episode, the bar has been steadily, sadly lowered toward the movie, Idiocracy. Today, 58 million people rely on Trump’s Twitter feed for the leader of the free world’s thoughts, feelings and actions.
   Frightening because, politics and policies aside, he is unfit to represent the smartest country on Earth. Left may be right and right might be wrong, but correct is bipartisan.
   Trump is Trumb.
   He doesn’t know “there” from “their”, “to” from “too”, “weather” from “whether” or even how to spell his biggest nemesis: collussion. Call me a Grammar Nazi, please. It’s a compliment. I’ve always been amused at how being accused of inflexibility toward proper spelling is intended to come off as genuine criticism. Do those same folks attempt to camouflage their own inadequacies by mocking people with perfect credit, unblemished criminal histories and undefeated records?
   We all make mistakes. I’ve had my share. Usually typos made in haste, rather than blunders fueled by a lack of intelligence. Sloppy and stupid may be related, but they are not identical twins.
   Sloppy: Friend shows up 30 minutes late to Cowboys game.
   Stupid: Friend shows up 30 minutes late to Cowboys game, wearing a Rangers cap and baseball glove.
   I won’t hire a company that has “Your No. 1 With Us!” painted on its van, or eat at a restaurant whose menu boasts “locally sorced ingredients”. Likewise, I’ve declined writing jobs from companies that tried to recruit me in an email that misspelled my name as “Ritchie.”
   If you don’t have enough integrity to get the small stuff right, how am I to trust you with the big stuff?
   Granted, grammar isn’t the top priority for a President. But in screwing it up, Trumb has diluted and dumbed-down his message. His reign of error is a reflection of core values. America’s tone comes from the top. Is it too much to ask that the most powerful man in the world is at least as smart as I am?
   Wrote the influential poet Ralph Waldo Emerson, “The institution of the office is lengthened by the shadow of one man.”
   Yikes.
   Trump’s legacy – and America’s persona – is trending toward a regression to cavemen inarticulately grunting at each other. While his 35-percent(ish) base of supporters revel in Trump being unbothered by “elitist” priorities such as spelling, the most listened to man in the world is – via an unvarnished blend of insanity and stupidity – putting the art of eloquent communication in a sleeper hold.
   Said Trump on the campaign trail, “I love the poorly educated!”
   (Insert light bulb emoji.)
   Again, we can excuse infrequent sloppiness. But we can’t stomach ingrained stupidity, especially when it’s adorned with arrogance. Our current toxic combo: One of the dumbest people in a position of power constantly boasts about being one of the smartest people on the planet.
   Among Trumb’s not-so-humble brags:
   I qualify as not smart, but genius … and a very stable genius at that!
   Sorry losers and haters, but my I.Q. is one of the highest!
   I’m very highly educated. I know words. I know the best words.
   We all have friends and/or family like this. In small doses, their combination of folly, hubris and hyperbole might be entertaining, even endearing. But you wouldn’t put them in charge of a running a Lemonade stand, much less America.
   Forget obstruction and collusion, the President is guilty of heinous crimes against grammar, literacy and common sense. Ironically, today Trumb tweeted at the U.S. intel chiefs that diametrically disagree with his warped world view:
   Perhaps Intelligence should go back to school!
   Gold help us. Because Trump’s “school” produced this …

   *Referring to Robert Mueller’s Special Counsel as “council”, “councel” and “counsle”.
   *Respecting the “Marine Core”.
   *Criticizing a foe for being “shadey”.
   *In touting his “ability to write”, chastising the media for liking to “pour over my tweets”.
   *Tweeting his visit to “Oxen” Hill. Oxon Hill is, of course, the home of the National Spelling Bee.
   *Promising to “promote the possibility of lasting peach”.
   *Claiming he invented the phrase “prime the pump”, which has been around since 1933.
   *Tweeting that an opponent got off “Scott Free”.
   *Butchering hereby into “hear by”, “herebye” and “hearby”.
   *Claiming a certain decision played no “roll” in the outcome.
   *Tweeting that Barack Obama had the audacity to “tapp” his phones.
   *Confusing “weather” and “whether”.
   *Confusing “their” and “there”.
   *Same with “too” and “to”.
   *And again with “loose” and “lose”.
   *Tweeting that a first-time occurrence was “unpresidented”.
   *Claiming that a wall would solve America’s “Boarder” security.
   *Inaccurately calling British Prime Minister Theresa May “Teresa”, who is actually a porn actress.
   *Promising – twice in the same tweet – that our great nation will “heel”.
   *Boasting – twice in the same sentence – that there is no “smocking” gun.
   *Bragging that he fed the Clemson football team by paying for “1000 hamberders”.
   *Stating that a “hurricane is coming … a big, wet hurricane”.
   *Depicting Puerto Rico as “an island, surrounded by water … big water … ocean water”.
   *“covfefe”.
   *Claiming “If you buy a box of cereal at the grocery store, you have a voter ID”.
   *Misinterpreting “Climate Change” as today’s temperature rather than decades of increased averages. Tweeting it as “Global Waming”.
   *Fumbling, before giving up, on how to operate an umbrella.
   *Walking up the steps to Air Force One with toilet paper stuck to his shoe.
   *Signing his name wholly ineligibly, like a Richter scale having a seizure.
   *Looking directly at a solar eclipse.
   *Keeping the ends of his abnormally long ties together with Scotch tape.
   *Believing that America’s F-35 “Stealth” fighter jet is literally invisible, saying “It wins every time because the enemy cannot see it. Even if it’s right next to it, it can’t see it.”
   *Continually referring to an investigation that has produced the arrests of six close associates as a “Witch Hunt”.
   *Claiming he is a devout “Christian” that has never felt the need to ask God for forgiveness. “I think if I do something wrong, I think, I just try and make it right. I don’t bring God into that picture. I don’t.”
   *Expecting us to believe he is “6-foot-3 and 239 pounds”. Or, exactly the same size as Cowboys’ running back Rod Smith.
   *Saying he needs “an anti-Viagra … I’m not bragging. I’m just lucky.”
   *Disliking pets in general, and dogs in specific.
   *Stating that baldness is a weakness, shaking hands is dangerous, “email is for wimps” and “environmentally friendly light bulbs cause cancer”.
   *Estimating that the cost of health insurance for a 21-year-old to be “12 dollars a year”.
   *Tweeting “wind turbines are killing millions of birds”.
   *Long ago stopping any exercise out of a belief that the human body is born – like a battery – with a finite amount of energy.

   Presented anonymously, I would judge those bullet-point traits to belong to a middle-schooler, a pathological liar or a mythical villain soon to be portrayed in a movie. Someone, for certain, that I wouldn't want to spend any amount of time listening to or hanging around.
   But a President? Our current President?! Get outta here!!!
   Evidenced by his random capitalization, idiocy with idioms and irrational, illogical beliefs, Trumb needs help. I am hereby volunteering to be his editor.
   First lesson: No hyphen. One word.
   Resign.

Thursday, July 27, 2017

UMPIRES SUCK. ESPECIALLY UMPIRES NAMED GERRY DAVIS.

Funnynotfunny?
   After an entertaining, bizarre, and really bad night in Arlington, there's no way to sugarcoat it:
   Umpire Gerry Davis needs a sense of humor. Because, yep, he's a major league asshole.
   On a sweltering July night at Globe Life Park in which Yu Darvish might have thrown his final pitch as a Ranger, it was the arrogant umpire who decided to inject his pall-bearer gravity into a laugher of a game by ejecting future Hall-of-Famer Adrian Beltre for - I kid you not - standing to the left on the on-deck circle.
   They say you can go to a baseball game and see something you've never seen. Man, are they right.
   Last night I witnessed:
   *A combined 32 runs
   *Yu surrendering 10 runs in 3.2 innings, the 2nd-shortest outing of his career.
   *3rd-string catcher Brett Nicholas mopping up on the mound in the 9th, and offering a 45mph slow-pitch softball.
   *And Beltre, one of the game's greatest and goofiest players, getting tossed for daring to exhibit a moment of levity at his doorstep of history.
   The score was 22-8 and it was approaching 11 p.m. on a Wednesday. The only reason there were a couple thousand of us fans left in the stands was Beltre. He already had 3 hits including a homer and a double off the wall, and was in his usual on-deck position preparing for what we all hoped would be career hit No. 2,997.
   Enter Gerald Sidney Davis, aka Baseball Buzz Killington.
   Earlier in the game my Dad and I had already taken note of Davis. He's been around forever. Crew chief since '99, umped 5 World Series and has the 2nd-longest tenure. He's obviously good at what he does. But he does it despite a surly, smug disposition that would make even our President cringe.
   Davis was the 2nd Base Umpire and on a couple of relatively close plays - a sliding double and a double-play pivot - we were amused, no, make it annoyed, that he made no call. None. Not as much as a shrug in reaction to the plays. Pretty clear to us that the runner hustling for a double was safe, but there was a tag. And similarly routine that the double-play pivot was executed without hiccup for an out.
At least I had a good view of a bad outing.
   But Davis' grandiose delusion caused him to deem neither play worthy of him even lifting a pinkie. He responded to each with ... nothing. He stared at the play and then walked away. The play, his warped ego reassured him, wasn't even close enough for him to stoop to making a hand gesture. "Even the peasants can figure that one out"? Guaranteed with a closer play - with perhaps the game on the line - Davis would get a running start and land the dismount with an exaggerated "Look at me!" out or safe call that would surely grip and enthrall the onlooking commoners.
   My guess is that throughout the stadium little boys and girls with their caps and their gloves and their baseball obsessions watched both plays and were left not impressed by Davis' visible indifference, but rather confused enough to ask "Dad, was he safe or out?"
   With nothing to justify him being a part of the proceedings, Davis decided to shove his sourness into the game in the bottom of the 8th. Beltre - as he has done for, oh, 20 years - was standing about 5 to the left of the on-deck circle. Out of nowhere - totally unprovoked - here comes the jerk of a judge.
   Inexplicably, he yells at Beltre to move to the right and stand on top of the on-deck circle mat adorned with the Rangers' logo. With comic reactions as fast and slick as his Gold Glove, Beltre instead drug the mat to where he was standing.
   To Davis, this was an unpardonable felony. He picked a fight, but when Beltre dared to "fight" back, he threw him out of the game. "Nobody disrespects me!" the giant ego in Davis' little brain was sure to be screaming. In Davis' scenario, Beltre should've moved, stood somewhere he was uncomfortable standing and saluted "Sir, yes sir!" in the process.
   Because, you see, Davis would like us to believe he is baseball royalty. An advanced, decorated professor of the sport. His inner monologue has him being such an expert of the game that we should all bow at his feet while he wows us with his judgments.
   But Davis is not a black-belt in baseball, merely a black eye on the sport.
One I won't soon forget. Thanks, Gerry.
   How are we certain that his 8th-inning temper tantrum was merely a grand personal publicity stunt to get him some needed attention? Because last night - and every night - 1st and 3rd-base coaches stand as much as 20 feet outside their designated box. Because after Beltre's ejection, Mike Napoli's customized on-deck circle was on the grass even closer to home plate than Beltre's. And Jonathan Lucroy stood to the left of the plastic circle. To the left of it, yep, even more left than it was after Beltre's relocation.
   From Davis? Not a peep.
   It's clear he wasn't enforcing any rules, he was merely making himself feel important.
   Never met Davis (nor do I ever want to), but my image is of him dining alone after a game. Sending back the soup because it's too soupy. Customizing his meal with 42 alterations. And then, you guessed it, leaving a $0 tip because such a mundane meal was beneath him.
   Davis was likely very satisfied with himself last night. He had reminded Beltre - and everyone in the stands - who was the real boss. In his world, remember, we paid our money to watch him umpire just as much as paid to see players.
   There will be a day - hopefully sooner than later - when baseball is flawlessly ruled by computers, GPS, laser technology and advanced gizmos equipped with no egos or agendas, and that mercifully will make umpires obsolete. Our kids' kids will laugh at the fact that we once upon a time relied on humans to judge our beloved outcomes.
   And they'll be right, because last night there was nothing funny about Gerry Davis' devoid sense of humor.

Thursday, June 15, 2017

HOME SWEET GONE

Last call indeed.
   Stepdad. Divorce. Engagement. Marriage. Stints at the Dallas Observer and CBS radio and NBC TV paving the way to media consulting. Ghosts (maybe). Squirrels (definitely). Pool parties (uh-huh). Tyron Smith breaking the bar. Armen Williams mysteriously losing his ring in the back yard. Girls jumping off the roof - topless. 40th and (yikes) 50th birthdays. And, yep, a championship by the Mavs, a nauseating flirtation by the Rangers and nary of whiff by the Cowboys.
   A lot has transpired since I moved into 2823 Roundrock in McKinney back in 2002. Other than the house I grew up in, I've lived here longer than any residence.
   But alas, nothing lasts forever. Especially addresses.
   So here Sybil and I go. Downsizing. Upgrading. You know the drill. You say you're never going to move and then - the commute gets longer and your patience gets shorter and the offers get bigger and ... Poof, just like that, we're dumping leisurely life in the 'burbs for shorter drives to longer nights down by the Dallas Arboretum.
   I'll always have McKinney. But I no longer need the McKrap.
   Bottom line: Estate Sale, courtesy of Attics to Basements. It begins - right now! - and runs through Saturday afternoon. Schedule: Thurs 10-4/ Fri 10-4/ Sat 10-2. (If you can't make it out but will be in the market for some sports memorabilia, an item or two that goes unsold will be donated to the Do It For Durrett and/or DFW Talk Of The Town charities.
   Come help us bid a fond (and fruitful) farewell to a house saturated with 15 years of excessive hunting and gathering in the form of ...

                                                                       SPORTS
Rookie of the Year - 1995

                                                                       RADIO
Not Fake News

                                                                        SYBIL
Gently pre-owned

                                                                   VALUABLES
Some of these you'll have to fight me over

                                                               RIDICULOUSNESS
Before ... you know.

                                                    AND EVERYTHING BETWEEN
Garth. Michael. Toy. 52-17.

The Great Goodbye

(Not so) Gently pre-owned

He had/has my vote.

You'll have to outbid Ron Chapman.

Before ... you know.

Yes, it works.

2011 = Pins 'n tears.


Thursday, June 1, 2017

THE 20 MOST MEMORABLE SPORTING EVENTS IN THE HISTORY OF ME

   “Be more positive!” she says.
   “Stick to sports!” he chides.
   “Too many Top 10 lists!” they decry.
   Fine, you win. Today: A warm-’n-fuzzy Top 20 list about sports.
   But first, a little background …

   I lied to get into the sports media business. Sorta.
   Went down like this:
   In 1986, a few months before I graduated UT-Arlington with a degree in journalism, I caught the eye and grabbed the ear of an editor at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram.
   “I’ll do anything, for any price,” I begged, attempting to jam the tip of my toe into what I perceived to be a sliver of an opening in the door.
   “Hmm, okay,” returned the editor. “Do you follow soccer?”
   “Are you kidding?!” I fibbed, having attended a Dallas Tornado game or two as a kid but not really knowing a goal from a goal kick. “One of my favorite sports!”
   Two nights later I was inside Reunion Arena covering a team called the Dallas Sidekicks and a sport called the Major Indoor Soccer League. Orange ball? Walls? A guy who takes his shirt off when he scores? I was clueless. And I was hooked.
Not necessarily on the MISL, but on getting paid to attend sporting events.
   What a scam brilliant career choice.
   I’ve covered sports in the Metroplex for 30+ years, writing/talking about everything from dart tournaments to The Olympics. Today, with a little prodding and a lot of reminiscing, I pieced together the most memorable events I’ve attended during 18 years at the Star-Telegram, seven more at the Dallas Observer, five at CBS Radio/105.3 The Fan, three more at NBC5 and, since the Summer of 2013, here in my own lil’ corner of the blogosphere.
   My initial brain dump birthed 44 memories. I painstakingly narrowed it to 20. Not necessarily the best moments. Merely the most memorable. (Leon Lett, Brett Hull and Bill Clinton's White House just barely missed the cut.)
   Hope you enjoy re-living them half as much as I delighted in covering them.


   20. February 16, 2001; Infield Circus – Assigned to capture the suds, speed and socializing of the Daytona 500, I drove through the tunnel at the Daytona International Speedway and immediately saw a woman. Walking. On her hands. Naked. With grinnin’ guys playing ring toss. Using her legs as the targets. Swear.



   19. April 6, 1997; Mav-Wrecks – Though the franchise had bottomed out a couple years earlier with head coach Quinn Buckner and consecutive 13- and 11-win seasons, the Mavs under the utterly forgettable Jim Cleamons managed only two points – on a pair of Derek Harper free throws – in the third quarter of a lowly loss to the Lakers in The Fabulous Forum.



   18. Nov 30, 2006; Anna Nirvana – Got to play three games of tennis at the T Bar M Racquet Club in North Dallas against one of the hottest females on the planet, Anna Kournikova. Nothing really spectacular about the tennis, other than the fact that it was against one of the hottest females on the planet, Anna Kournikova.




   17. June 20, 1987; Sidekicks Celebrate – Down 3-1 with less than two minutes to play in Game 7 of the MISL Championship Series, the Sidekicks pulled their goalie in desperation. After an improbable two goals to force overtime, Tatu drilled a shot that Mark Karpun re-directed for the goal that stunned the Tacoma Stars and 20,000 fans in the Tacoma Dome. Two days later I covered a championship parade through downtown and around Reunion Arena. Still pinching myself to this day.




   16. Dec. 10, 1989; Bounty Bowl II – After Cowboys’ head coach Jimmy Johnson had chastised the Eagles’ Buddy Ryan for putting out a bounty on kicker Luis Zendejas in a Thanksgiving Day game at Texas Stadium, the payback at Veterans Stadium was gruesome. Philadelphia beat an infamously futile Cowboys team, 20-10, punctuated by batteries wrapped in iceballs hurled at the sideline and even inside CBS’ broadcast booth at Verne Lundquist and Terry Bradshaw.




   15. June 29, 1998; Dirk’s Debut – He stepped off the plane from Wurzburg, Germany all of 19 years old. Chili-bowl, long haircut. Big, gold hoops dangling from his ear. But then Dirk Nowitzki dazzled us inside the Baylor-Tom Landry Center gym. 3-pointers with each hand. And a smooth, flowing stride leading to effortless dunks. The Flamingo Fadeway wasn’t yet born, but just days after the NBA Draft Nowitzki’s eventual Hall-of-Fame star was already rising.




   14. Dec. 20, 2008; Farewell, Old Friend – It was freezing that night. Winter wind whipping through the tunnel at Texas Stadium. But with the Cowboys rallying and former players lined up to see the last game in Texas Stadium it would end up warm and cozy. Right? Nope. As Baltimore Ravens’ fullback LeRon McClain rumbled 82 yards right up Dallas’ gut it almost made us vomit. Then, about 17 months later, an 11-year-old from Tyler pushed a plunger that imploded my all-time favorite sports stadium.




   13. May 14, 2005; Tiger Prowls – Back when Tiger Woods was Tiger Goods, I followed his every move at the Byron Nelson golf tournament. On the 9th fairway he exited a Port-a-Pot … to a rousing ovation.




   12. July 4, 2004; Fantastic Federer – Only thing more amazing than sitting at Centre Court Wimbledon and watching Andy Roddick spank 140-mph serves was witnessing Roger Federer deftly return them for winners with merely a flick of his legendary wrist.




   11. June 17, 1994; The Day The World (Cup) Stopped – International media from the globe’s four corners descended upon Fair Park to cover the World Cup, but suddenly we all found ourselves not watching soccer inside the Cotton Bowl but instead huddled around a TV in the Hall of State’s makeshift media center gawking at another type of football player. It was O.J. Simpson, leading Los Angeles police on a low-speed chase.




   10. January 17, 1993; How ‘Bout Them Cowboys?! – Candlestick Park. The mud. Major underdogs. Up 24-20 with four minutes remaining, but backed up to their own 10. Get conservative and work on the clock? Nah. How about Troy Aikman to Alvin Harper for the most important 70-yard pass play in franchise history. Cowboys 30, 49ers 20. Hello, Super Bowl.




   9. February 28, 1989; Doomsday Indeed – Only days after he was fired by new owner Jerry Jones, Cowboys’ coach Tom Landry went to Valley Ranch and cleaned out his office. Unfortunately, I had to document every sad detail.




   8. June 14, 1998; The Joy of Six – With his Chicago Bulls on the brink of losing Game 6 and having to play a Game 7 in the Delta Center against the Utah Jazz, Michael Jordan scored, stole the ball from Karl Malone and then deftly shoved Bryon Russell out of the way before swishing an 18-foot jumper to seal his sixth title. We forget John Stockton front-rimmed an open 3-pointer at the buzzer.




   7. October 22, 2010; Hello, World Series! – When closer Neftali Feliz struck out Alex Rodriguez on a nasty curveball, our goose bumps had goose bumps. Yep, after 38 seasons the Texas Rangers were finally going to the World Series.




   6. February 8, 1986; Soaring Spud – On NBA All-Star Saturday at Reunion Arena it was 5-foot-7 Spud Webb who stole the show by winning the Slam Dunk title. But in the locker room it was Celtics’ legend Larry Bird who chugged a Lone Star beer, loudly burped and then offered “Excuse me, I’ve got a trophy to win.” He then went out and at one point made 12 straight 3-pointers en route to the Long Distance Shootout championship.




   5. July 27, 1996; Olympic Bombing – During The Summer Olympics in Atlanta I saw Michael Johnson’s double in the 200/400, the Dream Team cream everybody and Andre Agassi win gold. But it was 1:30 a.m. when our bus taking us to our dorms at Emory University abruptly stopped. Announced our driver, “A bomb went off in Centennial Park.” Still makes me queasy. I had been there 20 minutes before. And now I was headed back.



   4. August 22, 1989; 5,000 – I was assigned to paint the scene surrounding Nolan Ryan’s historic 5,000th strikeout. Not Nolan fanning the A’s Rickey Henderson or the ball caught by Chad Krueter, but more so the scalpers selling box seats for, get this, $150 a pop. Probably go for $1,500 today.



   3. October 27, 2011; Title Tease - One strike away. Twice. I was lined up with a gaggle of media underneath Busch Stadium, awaiting the Texas Rangers’ World Series celebration that would never happen. Plastic was hung from lockers. Boxes of championship hats and T-shirts were carted past. But after David Freese tripled off Neftali Feliz in the 9th, Lance Berkman singled off Scott Feldman in the 10th and Freese homered off Mark Lowe in the 11th to end a dramatic, gut-wrenching Game 6, it was instead our worst case of blue balls. Ever.




   2. January 31, 1993; 'Boys Are Back – From Garth Brooks’ National Anthem to Michael Jackson’s halftime show to Troy Aikman’s four touchdown passes to the nine turnovers, the Cowboys’ 52-17 romp over the Buffalo Bills in Super  Bowl XXVII will be eternally vivid.



   1. June 12, 2011; Finals, Finally – As Nowitzki made a lefty layup to give the Mavs a nine-point lead in the final minute, I found myself trying to do my job – blog and type and talk – amidst a stream of tears. Couldn't have been more perfect. In Miami, against the Heat team and villainous player (Dwyane Wade) that ruined the ’06 party. Favorite moment: Original owner Don Carter handing the Larry O’Brien trophy to Finals MVP Nowitzki. Sometimes, if you stick with it long enough, life turns out to be fair after all.