BitterU

I’m a diehard New York Met fan. I hate the Yankees and over the last few years I’ve grown to hate the Phillies as much as I hate the Braves. I don’t want to see any of them win games, championships or even have more fans on Facebook. I don’t, however, take any pride in seeing them fail. I cheer for my Mets. Just as I cheer for my Jayhawks. I’ve never celebrating a rival’s failure as if it were my team’s success. That kind of thinking just does not compute for me.

Yesterday our Jayhawks lost a tough game to VCU, a real stomach punch loss. A game we should have won, ending a season that seemed to be laid out perfectly for Kansas to win the National Championship. But Kansas fans aren’t able to morn properly, because before the buzzer even sounded, we were under siege from haters. I’ve always hated the term “hater,” but sometimes it’s just accurate.

Kansas State, University of Missouri and even Wichita State fans took our loss as an opportunity to pile on. They had to remind us of Bucknell, Bradley and Northern Iowa, as if we forgot. It’s different than just rooting against us; they actually celebrate it as a victory for their side. It isn’t.

I understand that they may view Kansas fans as arrogant, winning teams get that a lot. It’s probably even true, and totally acceptable that they wouldn’t want to see Kansas win, it’s just sad that they don’t understand the difference in being fans and being haters. Would they express so much joy if their teams had won? I honestly don’t know. They can’t say either, because the truth is, that scenario is such a long shot that it can’t even be seriously considered.

Kansas has the longest active streak of consecutive NCAA Tournament appearances with 22. Kansas State has made two in a row and Missouri has made three in a row. They’ve combined for 17 trips to the Elite 8, while Kansas has made the Final Four 13 times. We have three titles, and they’ve combined to make the Final Four just twice, and the last one came 47 years ago.

I root against teams I don’t like, but when they fail, it’s not my success. It’s a relief, sure, but the only fans that should celebrate are of those of the winning team. These fans just reek of jealousy, and their actions distract us from feeling sorry for ourselves and focus our attention on defending Kansas’ record of excellence against their track record rich in meritocracy. Butler and VCU have one less Final Four trip between them than KSU and MU have, yet we’re the punch line?

Losing sucks, and losing the way we just did hurts quite a lot. But all those piling on right now, remember, you’d trade spots with us every single year. Our loss isn’t your win, your win would come from being better, and only then. Until that day, your reaction to our loss says more about you than it does us. Rock Chalk, you can’t beat KU.

Like a Good Neighbor?

What exactly is going on here, State Farm? We have two dudes, parked in a State Park some where. They brought along some food, looks like it's fast food. They aren't in camping gear, so it doesn't seem likely that they're there for a vacation of any kind. These two dudes just decided, "hey, let's go have a burger and watch the buffalo roam."


One of the gentlemen is wearing a heavy coat, that's also zipped up, while the other has a light jacket that's unbuttoned. This just confuses me. Based on how they're talking, "I can't believe we haven't done this before. Oh wow, look at that," I'm assuming they're high. Is State Farm using someone, who was driving under the influence, to sell me their insurance? So they call up their agent, and he comes to the rescue. Now they've left their car behind, and left the scene. Is that what I'm supposed to do if I'm ever in an accident?

Putting the Flush in Flushing

My beloved Mets have released lefty, and huge disappointment, Oliver Perez. Perez is still owed $12 million, and I guess the contract prevents the Mets for asking Perez to be a ball boy or sell beer. Since he wasn’t going to pitch, they either had to use up a roster spot and keep him around, or pay him to go.

Now you may not have heard, but the Mets are in a world of hurt. The Mets owners were just hit with a law suit that seeks one billion dollars in damages in connection to profits they allegedly gained from their relationship with all around scum, Bernie Madoff. Yes, billion with a “bee.”

I’d argue that their obviously not smart enough to be involved with such an insanely successful, yet evil, ponzi scheme.

Here’s my evidence:

• In 1999, when the Mets decided to part ways with outfielder Bobby Bonilla, they agreed to defer payments rather than cutting him a check for $5.9 million. So Bonilla will start collection $1.19 mil a year starting this July. Oh, his last check is scheduled for 2035. Don’t bother with the calculator, that’s $29.8. Right, almost $30 mil instead of just under $6.
• In 2003, they traded Roberto Alomar to the White Sox, along with $3.75 million to help offset his contract.  
• In 2004 they traded Roger Cedeno and his $10 million contract to the Cardinals. As part of the deal, the Mets agreed to pay $9 million of his contract.
• In 2006 o get the Rockies to take Kaz Matsui, they had to pay $4.5 million of his $8 million contract
• Just last week the Mets waived Luis Castillo and ate his $6 million contract.

For those keeping score at home, that’s $65.05 million that the Mets basically flushed down the toilet. Does this sound like an organization that’s capable of catching on to what Madoff was doing, when the feds couldn’t? The defense, along with our playoff ambitions, rests.

Friday night, your average T-Mobile customer went to bed with this message firmly implanted in their head. Sunday came and there are reports of a pending AT&T and T-Mobile merger. How is the T-Mobile customer supposed to get excited about this?

This Date in Jacking History

March 20th. Happy Birthday to my man Mikey V. And for V's birthday, I am going to retell his favorite story. Because March 20th isnt just Mikes 28th bday. March 20th marks the 12th anniversary of my CARJACKING.


So walk with me if you will. Back in time. A brisk March night much like tonight. (Somewhere I'm sure) I'm out with Paul and Brandon, catching a flick. Naked Gun 33 1/3. Not nearly as good as the first two. So it's been a dissapointing night. Plus I'm about to head to Puerto Vallarta for spring break, so all I want is out of Kansas. So we drop Paul off and head towards Brandons house.


It's a little past 12 and we driving through his neighborhood, hood if you will. 127th and Switzer. Right near Blue Valley Northwest. We see a few kids out running in front of a house. Must be out tp'ing or playing some ding dong ditch. Good times. Even if they are a little old for it.


So Brandon is about to get out of the car, and we see these 2 fellas coming up towards my car. Look to be about our age, maybe we know them just don't recognize them yet? Huh. Wait, this asshole is opening my door.


"We just shot someone and we need your car, I dont want to do this violently," he says before lifting his shirt to show me his 38, as I also notice blood on his hand. Aint this about a bitch. The other guy goes around to Brandons side. He tells me to write down his pager # and call him in an hour or so and I'll get my car back. But if I call the police he'll come back and deal with us. So I write down his pager number, as I also collect a few tapes of mine. Look it was 94, I was 17. I didnt have a cd player in the car ok? Just leave it alone. But I made some bad ass mix tapes. And I'll be damned if they get my car AND tapes.


Next the other asshole says "hey, where did $ish go?" to his partner in crime, literally. My ears perk up. Thats the nickname of a guy I work with at Original Pizza. And well when we saw these guys running in front of that house, there was 3 of them. Now theres 2. Did someone recognize me? So I ask the idiots. "Chris Fi####er, I won't finish his name to protect the guilty. Very, very quickly the 2 guys tell me no, not him. Um, right. And I'm 6'3.


So here we are, walking into Brandons parents house. They aren't expecting me. "um, outside, yeah uh..we just got carjacked" Cue his Moms WHAT THE ?!?! reaction. Now I got my car back the next day. Understand at this time in my life, I never put more than $5 in the tank (this is when $5 got me a half tank though) But for some reason, I filled it up that weekend. I got the friggin thing back on E!!! These idiots stole a 1988 Nissan Sentra, at gun point, and spent the night driving around. Americas dumbest criminals, we have a winner. This is 1994, OJ is in the news. Kato. Trial of the century.


And now, G gets to take the stand against his CARJACKERS. I'm there, giving my statement with my own little fan club of V, Jared (ass) Mrs V and my folks. I'm hard enough to understand. But on the stand, nervous AND trying not to laugh at all this? I wonder what the stenographer entered for my testimony. Now I was on the high school newspaper staff, and never had a story on the front page (they didnt think movie reviews or sports stories were worthy, up yours Mac) But a story about me, made the front page. Beat that with a stick.


March 20th. Happy Birthday V.

Way

Memorable

I’ll always remember the day that the Challenger exploded as it sped to space, and as President Regan famously said, “Slipped the surly bonds of earth to touch the face of God.” My personal beliefs aside that is one of the most beautiful lines I’ve ever heard. I’ll always remember when I first heard about the Oklahoma City bombing, the first attack on the World Trade Center, Columbine and of course, 9/11. The images of Katrina and the tsunami that tore apart Southeast Asia are burned into my head right next to the images from Haiti. Sadly, like pretty much everyone else, there are new images in that mental photo album; those of the complete destruction that took place in Japan this past weekend.


For the Challenger, I remember I was sitting in Mr. Durgy’s class, it was third grade. The Principal came by, had Mr. Durgy step outside for a moment, and then a few moments later made an announcement over the intercom. I remember coming home from school in’93, and seeing the images of smoke coming from the bottom of The World Trade Center. I heard about Oklahoma City when I went into work at Original Pizza. My parents were in Oklahoma City, they were there for a while training to open their own franchise in Kansas City. I didn’t believe it when I was told; no way there’d be a bombing in Oklahoma City. They’re just messing with me because my parents are there. That’s what I thought then, that’s what I wish was the case now.


Columbine hit me hard, as that school looked so much like the high school I attended and I was just four years removed from school. I was glued to the television. That led to my first blog post, before they called it blogging. AOL has since taken down that website, jerks. 9/11 took place as some friends had traveled home to New York for the wedding of his sister, my first babysitter. I was at work when someone came in and told me, I didn’t believe that either. Flipped on the radio and listened in horror, then quickly called my friend and got through. Everyone I knew was okay. The groom to be was actually in one of the towers. To this day, if I see a show about 9/11, I have to watch it. No matter how many times I’ve seen that very show.


Last Friday I came in to work, just happy it was Friday. Then I saw a post on Facebook about an earthquake that hit Japan. It took a moment, and then I realized that earlier in the week my uncle and I had swapped some emails. He casually mentioned, “I’m emailing you from Japan.” At the time I thought that was cool, he traveled there often for business, and still consults even though he retired ten years ago. He doesn’t understand what retire really means.


I panicked, I wasn’t sure when he was coming home, but my gut told me he was there. I tried his cell, no answer. I didn’t want to call my aunt, if she hadn’t heard, I really didn’t want to be the one breaking this news to her. So I called my cousin, even though it was just 6:30 where he was. I hoped I wouldn’t wake him, but that wasn’t my biggest concern. I informed him of the earthquake and tsunami and he didn’t realize his father was in Tokyo. I heard the panic in his voice as he checked with his wife. He called hid mother, who had already spoken with my uncle. He was at the airport when it happened, and he was okay. Between hearing of the earthquake and that he was okay, I had sent Mrs. Hirp a text, informing her of what happened and that my uncle was there. When she told the Kyd, she started to cry, “I don’t want Uncle Jerry to die!”


“Neither do I,” I said to myself, “neither do I.” She was on her way to the bus stop when Mrs. Hirp called out to her and let her know he was ok. She responded with a “Yes!” and a fist pump. Perfect response every time.


I also informed my father that his brother was in Japan, but when I followed that up with letting him know his brother was okay, there was a mix up and he took that to mean he was out of harms way when the earth moved. It wasn’t till later that he realized his older brother was in the scariest place on earth. But the whole thing had just started. This was hours before anyone even mentioned “nuclear” anything. Knowing he was okay was a huge relief, obviously, but I’m a worrier by nature. Until I knew he was in the states, my imagination was going to fuck with me like reality messes with Charlie Sheen. I watched video after video Friday, my heart firmly planted in my throat.


Early Saturday afternoon I received a call from my aunt, that he had boarded a flight a few hours earlier and should be landing in Los Angeles in a little bit. That sound, that was the sound of a giant sigh of relief. Later on he called me and told me about his ordeal. The lack of food, the fear, the cold, the shaking, glass shattering, sleeping on the floor head to foot with strangers in a foreign land and the exhaustion.


He’s home, he’s safe and I’m glad. But so many others aren’t. The first estimate I heard was of 1,000 deaths. There’s simply no way that could be true, I watched cars trying to speed away from the rushing water. Some made it, some didn’t. I firmly believe there will be over 25,000 lives lost. With hundreds of thousand more completely ruined. I find myself stuck obessing over the cleanup process, as if that could even take place. What do you do with all that mud? How do you get clothes? When do you go back to work, when your work was swept out to sea? Will the kids ever get back to school? What about the pets, how many were lost? And how do you tell your child everything will be alright, when things are so far from ever being alright again?


I hate the news. I hate how it sucks me in, and hate how it makes me feel. I fear the next disaster, and they seem to happen more often now. Tell me everything will be alright