The Things I Think: I’m Annoyed!
Maybe it was the insufferable weekend heat and humidity, but a few things annoyed me to maximum level last week, and none of them had anything to do with the tedium of the scoreless and draw-infiltrated games of World Cup and the fact that a soccer official from Bali made a bad call and couldn‘t explain to the victim team, the good ol‘ US of A, why he made the call because he couldn‘t speak English.
So, without further ado, here is my quick list:
1. Tiger Woods’ power red Sunday shirt. All right, I get it already, Tiger. You wear a red shirt on Sundays because Sunday’s are “closing day” and the color signifies the power you wield, power that’s supposed to make the competition wilt simply because you’re wearing a red shirt. It’s played out Tiger. It’s now a cliché. Time to change it up. Why do people insist on having tags? Like Hurricane Schwartz and his bow tie. I’m sure Hurricane is a nice guy, but enough with the bow tie thing. What’s wrong with being normal and honest instead of having to rely on things that scream for attention? [SIGNUP]
2. Chase Utley. OK, I love Chase Utley like everyone else. But I wish he would break past that stifled personality and admit sometimes that he’s hurt. It was painful to watch Utley over the last three weeks flail at the plate and stop driving the ball. We all knew there was something wrong. Chase suffered through a spell like this last year and we knew it was because he had a torn labrum in his hip. So then it’s revealed a couple of days ago by first base coach Davey Lopes that the second baseman was hobbling around a bit on a bad right knee. It’s not a sign of weakness, Chase, when your injuries are hurting the ball club to ask for a couple of days off. I like the fact that you want to play everyday. But your stoicism is sometimes really annoying.
3. BP president Tony Whathisname. Here’s a guy whose company is responsible for polluting the entire gulf, killing fish and fowl, and leaving coastal towns drenched in black goop from the most massive oil spill in history, and he thinks nothing of catting around in a yacht and playing with his sloop on the open seas. Where does a person get the balls to do something like this? That’s like a Detroit congressman fighting to save General Motors, then leaving his office in a Mercedes. Oh, you mean that happens a lot?
4. Sammy Dalembert. I should be happy because he’s finally gone, but Dalembert irritates me simply on principle, the principle that he never felt the responsibility to improve his talents or dedicate himself to his profession. Here was a guy who played many years in the NBA and never gave one thought to actually learning the basic fundamentals of the game, nor improving his body from year to year to make him strong enough to deal with some of the front-court monsters in the league. The most repulsive thing about Sam Dalembert to me was that he actually thought he was a good player and complained constantly about not being more a part of the Sixers offense. He stole money from this organization for years, but I guess we should have expected that when former general manager Billy King gave him a contract worth $11 million a year before the player actually earned his stripes. Good luck, Sacramento, dealing with all of Sammy’s hollow blocked shots from the weak side which merely left the man he was guarding open for an easy put back.
5. Michael Milken. So I’m watching the Phillies-Twins game last Saturday on Fox and one full inning of my enjoyment is wasted on conversation in the booth between commentators Kenny Albert and Eric Karros and the notorious financial criminal Milken, who in the late 1980s fleeced thousands of people out of their fortunes by selling them junk bonds. Milken is the spokesperson for Major League Baseball’s fundraising campaign to fight prostate cancer, certainly a noble cause. And Milken apparently is a prostate cancer survivor. But that doesn’t erase the fact that he was also Bernie Madoff before there was a Bernie Madoff. Baseball couldn’t have found a better front man for its prostate cancer charity? Let Michael Milken find salvation behind closed doors. The way I see it, he’s lost all his public privileges.
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