The Seattle Mariners continued to roll today down in Peoria thumping the Texas Rangers 8- 6, putting on another wonderful display of power today for the fans down in Peoria. Today’s heroes on the offense side were Jason Bay who hit his second homer of the year, Mike Morse who broke out for his first dinger, the lanky Michael Saunders who clobbered one and none other than Carlos Peguero who hit his third home run in two days down in the desert. As you can see by the clip above the Seattle Mariners are starting to create a little buzz down in Peoria as Eric Wedge in the final year of his contract seems to have been finally given some offensive tools to go along with the Mariners strong defense and pitching from the last couple years.
Carlos Peguero is a guy that people love to hate, the local media and bloggers have all but written off the big kid due to his weak plate discipline over the past couple years. But it looks as if Carlos has a better approach this year and is being a little bit more selective of the pitches he is seeing as evidenced by his three home runs in two days. As for Jason Bay the aging veteran, his second home run of the spring certainly doesn’t hurt his chances to make the club as the crowded outfield competition continues down in the land of sun and dreams. It was good to see Mike Morse get his first home run of the spring as well along with Michael Saunders who appears to have tweaked his swing once again in the off-season thanks to his personal batting coach.
Young Brandon Maurer got the win today pitching two innings of two hit ball to keep his earned run average at zeros for the young spring. Maurer is a guy to keep your eyes on as despite all the hoopla around Hultzen, Paxton and Walker people down in Peoria are saying that Maurer perhaps has the best chance to crack the starting rotation of any of the youngsters when the club breaks camp.
After today’s home run derby down in Peoria, coupled with the fact that the fences are moving in at Safeco Field this year I’m starting to get a little hope that maybe we can indeed put some runs on the board this year. Of course it is hard to tell what is really happening down there as I get my news from listening to the games, talking to my friend Rob who is down there and promises to send some photos up, and whatever else I can pick up on the Internet. But rest assured if this new offenses rejuvenation is for real I will be paying a lot more attention in 2013 to our Seattle Mariners and will bring you the latest here at this Mariners blog. If you haven’t subscribed via email now is your chance to do that or follow me on Twitter or Facebook. Go Mariners! http://jeffsmariners.com
Tags: Brandon Maurer starting rotation, Carlos Peguero third Home Run, Eric Wedge Mariners, Jason Bay Home Run, Mariners Beat Rangers 8-6, Mariners Blog, Mike Morse home run, Seattle Mariners Peoria, Spring 2013, Uncategorized
Today was Blue Friday all over Seahawks Nation including right here in Fremont in the heart of Seattle. While many of my neighbors are progressive and creative types that are not as crazed about the Hawks as our 12th Man cousins outside of the city limits, many of us including myself represented today by wearing our Seahawks gear. I have posted a sign in my back window that says : “Fremont the Left Wing Of the 12th Man” in order to help build community spirit around the team that is representing us this weekend back in Atlanta.
In today’s modern world of free agents, mass media hype and players who have taken on the roles of Rock Stars it is so wonderful to see and feel our community responding to the Seahawks crew of undersized giants and cast-aways in such a positive way. There was a time when sports teams actually felt connected to the city they played for and knew they were representing us as well as themselves when they took the field. And strangely enough this years squad with Pete Carroll at the helm seems to feed off of us as much as we do them in a healthy symbiotic way. No matter what happens the rest of the way Russell Wilson and his cohorts have awakened a sense of pride in our region in the middle of this long cold winter.
For the record I have begun budgeting for a trip to New Orleans if we make it that far ,and I’m going out on a limb and making flight and hotel reservations Sunday afternoon if (when) we win. Last time I went to the Super Bowl it cost me close to four grand total for the trip and I figure it’s going to take five thousand this year for the whole deal. Anyone else going? Let me know and we can create a little team to figure out tickets, hotels etc….I know I’m getting ahead of myself but I have allowed myself to start dreaming again thanks to Marshawn Lynch (who missed a couple practices this week due to a foot injury) and crew…
One more thing, Id love to see anyone elses photos from Blue Friday so send an attachment with your photos and I’ll post them here for the world to see your hometown pride. Go Hawks!
I was 18 years old and would be headed to the University of Washington come autumn. I had a job working retail at the mall, but my concerns rarely lent themselves to selling shoes or folding t-shirts. I’d rather hang out, watch baseball, listen to music, go to movies, impress the opposite sex, or work out — all of this according to my AOL Instant Messenger profile, of course.
I was still very much a kid back then, one who had never really emerged from the cocoon that seems to envelop the Greater Seattle suburbs. I was naive, goofy, quiet, innocent, and all the things you tend to be before you settle into adulthood.
In that final summer before college commenced, I just wanted to hang out with all the other kids that I’d grown up with. Kids who would move on to different schools in different towns. Kids I might never see again. Kids that I enjoyed being around. I think we knew back then that life would never really be the same for any of us. And for the final few months of our adolescence, it was important that we embrace the memories we had in our past, as well as those we would create over the following weeks.
So it was that on a warm evening in late June, my friend Danny and I found ourselves in the stands at Everett Memorial Stadium, watching as the Mariners’ Single-A affiliate played before a modest crowd of onlookers.
We had no intentions for the evening, other than to watch baseball, enjoy the weather, and kick back for a few hours. Danny and I had been buddies since fourth grade. We’d been to elementary school, middle school, and high school together. His friends were my friends and vice-versa. Our parents knew each other. We’d been in one another’s company for nearly half of our respective lives, but in one month Danny would be headed to USC. It was that inkling we had, knowing things would be changing very shortly, that took us to Everett that night. And so we sat along the third base line and, very simply, watched.
I won’t ever forget what we paid witness to that night. It wasn’t an event, per se, but another kid. He was tall, lanky, had a dark tan, and wore long sleeves in spite of the mild conditions. The program told me he was only 17 years of age — “He’s younger than us!” I recall remarking — and a native of Venezuela.
But it wasn’t who he was, so much as what he was doing, that really caught our attention.
Perched along the stadium’s outfield wall was a rather inconspicuous speed pitch display, free of advertisements, gaudy lighting, or anything you’d find in a big league ballpark. And with each fastball this 17-year-old kid blew past opposing batters, the incandescent display on that electronic board flashed numbers like 95, 94, and 96.
He didn’t pitch more than a few innings, this kid. In his brief appearance, however, he wowed us.
We left the ballpark that night in awe of what we’d seen: a Mariners prospect the same age as most high school juniors mowing down the opposition with relative ease. His name wasn’t important at the time — how often do you consider the names of low-A-ball prospects, anyway? — but his actions were memorable. Only later on would we realize that this teenage phenom we had the fortune of witnessing was, in fact, the esteemed Felix Hernandez.
Nine summers have passed since I first watched Felix throw a baseball. He’s a king now, or so they say. He’s evolved from a skinny, teenaged prodigy into a polished, 26-year-old All-Star. He’s enjoyed the equivalent of seven full seasons in the major leagues. He’s gone from an über-prospect, to a pudgy mainstay, to an American League Cy Young Award winner.
He has only earned paychecks from one organization throughout his entire professional career. And to date, it has been more than a decade — he signed his first pro contract on July 4, 2002 — since Felix became a Mariner.
The Seattle fan base has embraced Felix Hernandez like few other athletes before him. No other ballplayer in this city’s history has absolved himself of criticism the way Felix has. Wrong? Felix can do none of it. We’re known for running our heroes out of town around here. So far, Felix has proven to be the exception to that rule.
As Felix has grown up, so have his supporters.
Looking back on that summer evening I spent gawking at Felix’s youthful greatness-in-the-making, I realize that all my suspicions about life and the mercurial horizon awaiting me were spot-on. Weeks after that get-together, Danny would take off for Southern California and it’d be a few years before we reconnected. Like so many friends bound for distant colleges, we began to head our separate ways. To this day, though, we stay in touch. And not one month ago, when we met up for the first time in two summers (in Las Vegas, of all places), the conversation turned to sports, baseball, the Mariners, and yes, even Felix.
When you’re a diehard sports fan, you tend to recall your past in conjunction with great seasons, great plays, and other feats of athletic glory. For example, I can tell you all about everything that happened to me in 1995, when I was 10, thanks in large part to the memories I’ve held onto from one miracle playoff run. So it should really come as no surprise that the summer of 2003 is still synonymous with that moment I first watched a young Felix Hernandez baffle hapless hitters.
Since then, however, few moments of notoriety have emerged for your typical Seattle sports fan to cling to. While I’m acutely aware that most of this drought is the product of a decade’s worth of losing, part of me wonders if the sobering reality of my own adulthood has jettisoned prospective memories from claiming real estate in my mind.
You see, when you’re a kid, you tend to attach even the most meaningless events to the coattails of the meaningful. One impactful occurrence can trigger a slew of nostalgia for the remainder of your existence.
When you grow up — or age, at least, since I’m fairly convinced I’ll never grow up — those moments become fewer and farther between. You tend to forget what it’s like to joyously celebrate even the most seemingly inconsequential circumstances. Adulthood has its perks, sure. That carefree manifesto you unwittingly lived by when you were younger, though? It’s long since decomposed.
But then there are days like Wednesday, August 15th, 2012. Days that serve as reminders of foolish, unadulterated bliss. That interrupt the trials and tribulations of the everyday to cathartically grant you a lasting reverie that will attach itself to this very point in your life and never let go.
Felix Hernandez was 17 years old the last time he bestowed upon me a lasting reverie. He’s 26 now. I’m 27. We have never met each other, not once, yet have grown up together in the same city, in completely different environments.
I’ve lived in and around Seattle my whole life. By comparison, Felix may as well be a world traveler. In all my years residing here, there are only a handful of times that the Mariners — Felix’s Mariners — have made me tremendously happy. In 1995, it happened. In 2001, it happened. And on Wednesday, it happened once again.
Felix Hernandez went out and threw a perfect game. It was the 23rd perfect game in the history of Major League Baseball. It was, without a doubt, one of the greatest pitching performances the world has ever seen.
More importantly, for me, for you, for us, it was a memory that can never be taken away. Regardless of our ages, our places in this world, our pasts, our presents, or our futures, this is something we will never forget.
With each pitch, we held our breath. With each out, our hearts leapt. And when that final strike zoomed across the zone, as home plate umpire Rob Drake made the decisive call on a game that would go down in history, as Felix Hernandez looked to the sky and let out every ounce of emotion he’d contained for nearly two-and-a-half hours, and as every man clothed in the Mariners’ home whites made a beeline for the pitcher’s mound, we smiled. Or cheered. Or laughed. Or cried. Or shrieked, screamed, yelled, gasped, squealed, you name it.
We rejoiced. Because on this particular day, Felix Hernandez gave us a reason to.
We will never forget this.
I will never forget this.
From an eternal Seattle sports fan, to an eternal Seattle sports icon, thank you. Thank you, Felix. You did great.
*Image courtesy The Everett Herald. For more rare Felix images, go here.
Filed under: Mariners, Uncategorized
As you may know, I am not a huge soccer fan. Running for 90 minutes is not my idea of fun. Kicking is not my idea of fun. Taking balls to the face is not my idea of fun. But that’s just me. I respect those of you who do find soccer to be fun. I do enjoy winning, and as the Sounders have made it a point to win quite often since their inception, that, to me, is fun.
With all that said, I have been fortunate enough to receive a pair of tickets to next Wednesday’s Sounders-Chelsea match thanks to Allstate Insurance. They told me to do with these tickets as I wish, so long as I passed along a little info about an event preceding the contest. Here are the details:
Before the game, new World Football Challenge sponsor Allstate Insurance is giving Sounders fans the chance to meet former Major League Soccer star and recent Soccer Hall of Fame inductee Tony Meola as part of the Allstate Fan Zone, an interactive display just outside of the stadium. The Allstate Fan Zone will be open from 4:30-6:30 p.m., and the Tony Meola meet-and-greet autograph session will run from 5:00-6:15 p.m. While there, Allstate is also giving fans the chance to register on-site to win tickets to future Sounders home games.
I encourage you to check out the Meola event, if for no other reason than because Allstate was kind enough to give me these tickets.
Oh, and yeah, you probably want a chance to win these tickets. To do that, just follow me on Twitter (@alexssn) and tweet me with the hashtag #alexssnTIX. That’s all you gotta do. I’ll pick a winner at random by Monday morning, at which point the tickets are yours. Good luck!
Filed under: Uncategorized
On Saturday, call your hot dog a tube steak and everyone will think you’re hip. Turn Back the Clock tix: atmlb.com/LbdEGd
— Seattle Mariners (@Mariners) May 21, 2012
Back in the 1950s, the cool kids apparently used to refer to hot dogs as “tube steaks.” Fun.
These days, the term “tube steak” is largely understood by anyone under age 60 to refer to a dude’s penis. So what we have here is quite the conundrum.
I know we’ve all questioned how out of touch the M’s organization may very well be with their fan base, but this has to be a new comedic high (or low, depending on your viewpoint). Sure, Chuck Armstrong and Howard Lincoln may be quite fond of the tube steak, but the average fan? I don’t know about that.
Regardless, I encourage anyone attending Saturday’s Turn-Back-The-Clock game to order up tube steak after tube steak and induce giggles from concession stand workers who otherwise might not get a laugh in during their shift.
Can I get a foot-long tube steak? Tonight, sir, you can.
Filed under: Uncategorized
In the middle of doing work — actual work for my real-life job — the urge to write overwhelmed me. Such an urge doesn’t often poke and prod at my consciousness the way it once did, so I figured I’d better act on the impulse.
Every few months I sit down and reevaluate where I’m at with my writing. And every time I do this, it seems my life has changed a bit more drastically than the last time I did this reflection thing.
So where are we at right now? At this precise moment, it’s 10:45 p.m. on a beautiful Saturday evening and I’m sitting on my deck listening to what more or less amounts to the entire Britney Spears discography. There’s an explanation here. You see, my girlfriend (@danceral on Twitter; follow her) was teaching a dance class last week and needed a Britney Spears mix. So I downloaded the songs onto my laptop and… you know what, never mind. Excuses are for the weak. Just know that this is really happening. I’m very comfortable with my place in this world. Even right this second, as I bump Anticipating through the headphones. I imagine this is not what Andre Young had in mind when he got his Ph.D in rapology and dropped his Beats on the universe. Sorry, Dre.
I’ve been working a lot lately. My job has consumed my everyday. It happens. You get sucked into that thing that pays your bills and let it dictate your existence every now and then. We’ve all been there. I guess it’s fairly obvious, if I’m sitting here on a Saturday night doing work. Or at least I was. Until this started happening.
Work is neither bad or good. It just is. When I’m fortunate enough to meet the people who read my stuff, they’re often surprised to find I have a job that isn’t media-related, but alas, ’tis true. SSN is my hobby, nothing more. Like any hobby, I fit it in where I can. Which is why for the better part of the past year, I haven’t written nearly as much as I once did. Work has kept me busy during the day, while my free time has been devoted to spending moments with the people who bring me the most joy. I realize there’s a certain selfishness to the direction my life has taken.
I mention this often, but from Day One — November 12, 2008; I’ll never forget the date — the mission behind my website was to bring people together. I really can’t tell you why I saw that as my mission. But at the time, I had this feeling that sports fans in Seattle needed some sort of unifying thing to rally around. That year, 2008, was epically horrible. The Mariners lost 100-plus games, the Husky and Cougar football teams were a combined 2-23, the Seahawks finished 4-12 and had their streak of four consecutive NFC West championships snapped, and we watched helplessly as our Sonics were stolen from us. It was bad.
On the flip side, what did I really know? I was a 24-year-old kid who had never written professionally. I just had this desire to talk to people about sports. And I needed a new hobby in my life. I was bored. Boredom, it turns out, is an exceptional motivator.
We’re going on four years of this now. Every week, I wonder if this is the week I’ll give it all up. But then I look at the people who have found value, however minimal, in what I’ve done here. I can’t give it up. I like doing this for them, for us. Nothing — no amount of money, no job, absolutely nothing — could replace the satisfaction of achieving the mission I set out for myself.
I’m a completely different person than when I started this website. It seems so foolishly stupid. My life has been entirely altered by a domain name. Think about that. Twenty years ago, this wouldn’t even be possible. That boggles my mind. Without one single act of buying a URL and filling its end result with words, I’m not anywhere near the same person. Crazy.
I played in a softball game earlier today. At one point in that game, I realized every single person I was there with I had only met because of my website. I have another softball team I play on, too. I don’t play ball with those guys if I don’t start this site, either.
Rec softball is just an example. Some of my best friends in the whole freakin’ world are people I would never have had the chance to get to know without this site existing. Opportunities I’ve been granted come as a result of these pages. The people who hired me at my job — my career, my recent temporal burden — once told me the thing that gave me the edge over all the other applicants was the initiative I had taken to run a site of my own creation.
I had no confidence before I started writing on these pages. People should know that. I was reserved and had no idea who I was. My self-worth was non-existent. And perhaps that’s different than confidence. Because one can always exude confidence, even if it’s false bravado. We always like to think we have shit figured out. But at the end of the day, when the world has shut itself off around you and you’re left with only your thoughts, you know your true value. I had none that I could see. No value. I wanted that. I went in search of value through writing. I’ve found some things, but mostly I’ve come to the realization that a) we never actually figure shit out, and b) our self-worth can’t be determined by any audience, only by oneself.
I’ve been up and down over the past forty-two months. You can look back at anything I’ve ever written and sense the emotion from that point in time. I’m incredibly reactive. Compared to most sports fans, I’m probably a little more even-keel. But my heart is on my sleeve. If I’m feeling something, you’ll see it in the writing. I’ve never been blessed with the ability to disguise my passion.
I guess no matter what has happened to me since November 12, 2008, I’ve always had this website to keep my life in perspective. It is the one constant that has guided me. And it’s not just the website, really. It’s the people who’ve made the website possible, the readers. I’ve found value in the people as they’ve found value in my words. It’s kind of hard to explain, but the reality of that relationship gives me a ton of energy. I brought people together, just like I wanted to. And at the same time, all those people have brought me a great deal of satisfaction.
A few months ago, readers of my website started trying to hook me up with this girl. She was all about sports and whatnot. She had a job in sports, she was a Seattle sports fan, a fellow UW grad, all things that would undoubtedly appeal to me. She had a Twitter account. We happened to “follow” each other. Every now and then, she’d mention me in a tweet (tweet…even as I’ve embraced Twitter, I still hate that word in its modern-day form) and I’d get a little excited since she was pretty and seemed to agree with my otherwise outlandish opinions of society. But we didn’t really interact much. We just happened to acknowledge one another’s presence in the spectrum of the internet.
I went to the Alamo Bowl in December to watch the Huskies play football. We all know what happened there. No need to go into much detail. It’s not that important. But the setting is important. Because on the early morning of New Year’s Eve, my friends and I were camped out in the middle of the Houston airport, having spent the entire night awake in the most uncomfortable of venues. We slept on a hard floor. Except we didn’t really sleep. Two of us were sick, another one puked from the overconsumption of adult beverages. Our misery was a testament to sports fanaticism, I guess you could argue. But mostly, we were just being idiots. When you’re single and in your late-twenties, you can do that sort of thing and get away with it. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts, right?
Anyway, there we were when I took to my Twitter account and began chronicling the events taking place before me. This was at about 3:00 a.m. Seattle time, bear in mind. I expected no one to read my posts. I just wanted a record of the memorable evening occurring in my midst. But then this girl, Andrea, the one people had mentioned to me in passing, responded. And then she kept responding. And we started conversing back and forth in 140-character bursts. And pretty soon she hinted at a date. I told my friends who were with me on the trip about this turn of events. They just laughed at me, and ultimately my conversation with this girl ended when I boarded a plane bound for home.
A couple days later I told her I wanted to take her up on the date offer, if it still stood. She caught me off-guard when she invited me to an event that wouldn’t be taking place for a month — a month!!! I didn’t really know what to think, so I just said yes. We agreed to go on a date on February 2nd. This was in the first week of January.
Over the next thirty days or so, we would communicate from time to time. We texted and tweeted (the past tense of “tweet” is just as bad as the present tense) and little else. I liked her, but I tried to ignore her. There’s nothing worse than going on a first date and having nothing to talk about because you’ve already exhausted your conversation. I didn’t get my hopes up. I had incredibly high standards for dating. My friends would make fun of me for those standards. But I never wavered. When you know what you want, there’s no reason to settle for less than that.
February 2nd finally came. I wasn’t nervous. I’m always nervous for this sort of thing, but I was oddly calm on this particular evening. We met at the Seahawks’ practice facility. Sports. My life always comes back to sports. The event was for the Sea Gals. She was a Sea Gal. We were going to watch a dance dress rehearsal together. I didn’t even know what to expect.
She was beautiful. There are times when someone in your presence can make you question everything about yourself because of who they are or what they look like. At that instant I first saw her, I questioned everything from my choice of attire to my haircut to the deodorant I had put on to whatever cool, funny thing I was planning on rattling off. Everything. I questioned everything.
We sat next to each other watching a dance team on a stage. I made her laugh a few times. She made me laugh a few times. The rest of the night was a blur, but went amazingly. We didn’t get tired of each other once. We figured we should keep hanging out. It’s been 100 days. We’ve been making each other laugh for 100 days.
She has changed who I am in a positive way. I measure myself by how many times each day I can make her smile. I’m better with her. She makes me better.
And yes, she’s also the reason I am still, nearly two hours later, listening to Britney Spears sing. No one ever accused me of having good taste in music. And I’m easily impressionable. Let’s be honest here.
I would be remiss if I didn’t devote a significant portion of this article to my girlfriend. Over the last hundred days, she has made me happy. There are lots of things in my life that have changed since I started this website, and this is one of those things that’s slightly more important than the rest.
I had that mission to bring people together. I’ve been fulfilling that mission. I’ve benefited from that mission in a number of ways. Perhaps the best example of how I’ve benefited from my own mission can be personified, very simply, in the beautiful girl who makes me happy.
I’m in a good place. We’re in a good place. I’d like to give you, the reader — and if you’re still reading this, good lord, you impress me — my words every single day, but I can’t always do that. In the grand scheme of things, my words are unimportant. We’re fulfilling a mission together. We’re figuring things out together. We depend upon one another in ways neither of us will ever fully comprehend. I owe you so much. And where I’m at now, a lot of that has to do with you. We might not be connected personally, but if you’ve ever read anything here, then you’ve impacted me.
This week won’t be the week I give it all up. Next week likely won’t be either. In fact, I’m guessing that week might not ever arrive. I won’t ever stop all of this. When life gets a little hectic, I like to think I’d be able to sacrifice writing if I had to. But it’s not a realistic thought at all. This is part of figuring life out, yet never having it all figured out. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, exactly, but I know I love doing this one thing. So I’ll keep doing it. And life will keep evolving around it. Because for three-and-a-half years, that’s what life’s done.
We’re here together. I like that.
Filed under: Uncategorized
The Mariners don’t want Chris Hansen to build a multi-purpose, state-of-the-art arena — an arena that is ultimately destined to house both an NBA and an NHL team — in their backyard. Unfortunately for the Mariners, Hansen has already purchased land immediately south of Safeco Field, in the heart of Seattle’s SODO district. Hansen also has the blessing of the City of Seattle and King County in building his arena, as well as public backing from Seattle Mayor Mike McGinn and County Executive Dow Constantine. So to say the odds are stacked against the Mariners wouldn’t be inaccurate.
Why the Mariners have chosen to issue a letter to the aforementioned parties expressing concern over the proposed site of the arena makes sense from a business perspective, but is absolutely idiotic from a marketing and positioning (i.e. Public Relations) standpoint. Why? Good question. I’ll do my best to answer that.
But first, let me just state the obvious. The Mariners are f**king dickheads. They’ve been dickheads for quite some time. It’s evident in the way they’ve treated their fan base for so many years. For every positive, there are two negatives. “Hey, guess what, guys?! Instead of landing that free agent that would put us over the top, we reinvested in our Nintendo gaming stations and promotional bobbleheads. Enjoy the crap out of that shit!” F**king f**ks. We’re not f**king short-bus riders, you douchebags. Stop treating us like we lack the mental capacity to understand what you’re doing. It’s cheaper to pour a couple thousand dollars into a tiny wooden statue built in Ichiro’s likeness than it is to go out and sign Prince F**kin’ Fielder, we f**kin’ get it. Don’t f**kin’ lie to us to make up for it. F**k.
That said, the M’s organization is full of good businessmen. The thing about good businessmen is that they’re savvy. The Mariners are savvy enough to have put a fence around the SODO area and absolutely owned that shit since moving to Safeco Field in 1999. You know why there aren’t too many bars in SODO? Because of the Mariners. You know why restaurants aren’t zoned in SODO? The Mariners. You know why SODO is still a boring-as-shit neighborhood? The motherf**king Mariners. And do you know why the Mariners have made SODO that way? Because they want fans to focus solely on the concessions inside their own venue. They don’t want people going over to Pyramid, for example, and spending money. No, they want fans to drop $9 on a domestic light beer in The ‘Pen. It’s a business move. A short-sighted business move, but a business move nonetheless.
You can see why, from a business perspective, the Mariners’ thinking isn’t too stupid. If fans have nowhere else to go, they’ll end up inside the gates of Safeco two hours before first pitch pounding costly Bud Lights. Makes sense, right? Well, it WOULD make sense if the team were winning and had an absolute foothold in the area, but that isn’t happening. Which is why I say this line of thinking is so ridiculously short-sighted.
Take a look at a city like Boston, for example. The area around Fenway Park is thriving with establishments that have no affiliation with the Red Sox organization. These establishments essentially profit off the Red Sox, however, because of all the fans who frequent the area for games. Aside from having a winning product on the field, why do fans come to games and in turn frequent the area? Because of the gameday experience. The gameday experience in Boston is second-to-none, which is why people go. Even if fans can’t get a ticket into Fenway, they’ll head to Yawkey Way to absorb the ambiance and enjoy life. Worst case scenario, they pony up at a bar one Kevin Youkilis home run away from the Green Monster. Not a bad consolation prize, right?
The Mariners don’t see it that way, though. They see competing establishments as a gigantic threat to their revenue. Have they even considered the gameday experience outside their gates? Not really. They lack that intuition. They’re naive. But do we really expect anything different? This is an organization that has mitigated the future for failed playoff runs time and time again. Their lack of commitment to the gameday experience surrounding Safeco is essentially the short-sighted equivalent of dealing Derek Lowe and Jason Varitek for Heathcliff Slocumb. To them, fans are only worth a damn if they’re locked up inside the palatial prison that Safeco Field has become. As soon as fans step outside those turnstiles? F**k ‘em.
So what does all this have to do with their concerns over Hansen’s new arena? Frankly, they don’t want a competitor like Hansen (et al) to have any say in what goes on in SODO. This isn’t a parking concern, or a traffic concern, or any of the other bullshit outlined in that letter you all had the pleasure of reading. This is a concern over another influencer in the vicinity. It’s like when motherf**king Kirk McCray moved in on Winnie Cooper and Kevin Arnold had his influence on that smokin’ hot babe reduced as a result. Before Kirk McCray, Kevin was the man. THE MAN! After Kirk McCray? Well, Kevin wasn’t nearly as important as he used to be. The Mariners don’t want Chris Hansen and his arena to be their Kirk McCray. And SODO is their Winnie. They own that shit right now. They want to keep it that way.
(Side note: That’s a Wonder Years reference for those of you completely in the dark on that analogy.)
If you’re a Seattle sports fan, this is some bullshit. The Mariners are trying to control your destiny for their own sake. They’ve owned you for 35 years and they want to keep owning you from now until forever. I love that team, but I hate the organization. You can separate one entity from the other. It’s okay to do that. Don’t be blinded by their rhetoric. They’re messing with you, me, and every other fan out there. For the first time, they just happened to cross a line of common decency (a line they were always treading, by the way) in threatening an arena that would all but guarantee the return of the Sonics — OUR SONICS! — to their rightful place in this world of ours.
We could handle it before. The zoning BS. The lack of bars, restaurants, and any discernible gameday experience. The losing product that has plagued us for more than a decade (with two decades of collateral from their conception to back that, no less). But trying to block a do-gooder from doing good for all of us fans? You’re just slapping us in the f**king face at this point, you jerks. You just tore up our schedule, kicked us out of History, and sent us straight to the Ridgemont High principal’s office. In the paraphrased words of Jeff Spicoli, You dicks. You loathsome, jackass, worthless, unsuccessful dicks.
Leave us the hell alone. Back the f**k off. And let Chris Hansen build his arena. For us. The fans. The people you should be looking out for.
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My heart doesn’t always have the capacity to communicate words in the way I’d like to communicate them. It doesn’t matter what the words are, really. They can be about sports, about life, about culture, about something funny, about an experience, about a moment. The words are there, in my head, and I can sense them, but the desire to convey them, to share them with the world, that doesn’t always align.
It is never easy to do the things that you truly love. And there’s a reason for that. When you truly love something, you give it your all. You don’t cut corners on the things you love. You put your entire being into the things you love. You sacrifice for the things you love. You place the things you love on a pedestal above your own self. The things you love, they are what define you, they are your legacy.
We can only love so many things in our lives. There is only so much time in the day, so much time in our very existence, so much time in any sense that you’d measure it, to give ourselves to these things. So, not everybody has the ability or the opportunity to love something. Those who do are fortunate. I’m fortunate.
I write not because I have to, but because I want to. I write because my heart tells me it needs a release. I didn’t realize when I was younger that this was the case. I just thought it was a hobby, something I liked to do from time to time. I thought writing would come to pass. I thought it might just be a phase, like the phases I had with musical instruments, or video games, or other outlets for my energy. I didn’t realize that it would follow me wherever I went, that it would consume me, that it would be my traveling companion wherever life happened to take me. The thing about writing, it is always available. You don’t need much to write. Just the willingness and a means to transcribe.
I often close my eyes and feel a keyboard beneath my fingertips and channel thoughts and think to myself, amidst it all, that this probably isn’t how everyone else does it. I whisper the things that I write as I write them. Sometimes my voice gets ahead of the prose. Sometimes I’ll go back and look at what I’ve written and realize I’ve left out entire sentences worth of thought, a result of my brain outpacing my motor skills. I just talk. I say the words that come to me and turn them into characters on a screen. I could do this all day if I wanted to I suppose, but again, it’s about desire.
There is a demand. There is an expectation. And unfortunately, I cannot always bend to demands and expectations. I’ll write things from time to time because I feel compelled to. Not because anyone else tells me I have to, but because I know in my own mind that it’s time, that it’s been too long since I’ve last said something. But I guarantee you if you ask anyone who writes for a living if everything they wrote came freely, as a result of their own desire, they’d tell you that wasn’t the case. There is always some demand to write. It just depends on who happens to be issuing those demands. I’m no different than anyone else in that regard. Except that I create my own schedule. That may be the one unique facet of my calendar compared to others’. I don’t acquiesce to the demands of a boss, a readership, a company, money, or anything else. The demands are my own.
I don’t do it the right way. I craft paragraphs all wrong. I end my pieces abruptly. I use whatever word most articulates the message in that moment, even if that word happens to come with a parental advisory. I don’t write about the things people always want to hear about. This, for example, this article, this is selfish, this is about me, this is about my life. I should be writing about the Huskies or the Seahawks or the Mariners or something like that but I can’t, I just can’t, and that’s frustrating. And it’s not that I’m incapable, it’s that I’m incredibly unwilling right now. Because I don’t care. My desire to romanticize the Husky Basketball team, or the signing of Marshawn Lynch, or the fast-approaching baseball season is not there. I wish it was, but it isn’t.
I understand the ramifications of everything I write. I don’t always care for those ramifications or heed them in any way, but I comprehend them. I know there are certain topics I can write about that will bring in ridiculous traffic. I know what it takes to get linked on the most prestigious pages on the internet. I don’t really care for that attention, though. Maybe I’m foolish to act that way, to think that my craft is above that if I want it to be. But when you love something, you don’t always act rationally in the heat of your passion. I love to write. Rationality died when I came to grips with that.
Why am I writing this? Because it’s been two weeks since I’ve written anything of substance and that demand I mentioned kicked in. I need to get back to writing. I’ve taken breaks from writing before, but never have I gone this long without releasing my words. Problem is, I don’t know where to begin. I’ve started and stopped so many articles in the last few days that I just needed to emote for a minute. This is the end result of that. It’s a holdover. It’s a pledge to you that I’ll be back with something that matters, that fits the bill of this website’s name, soon. I will. Because I know that desire will return. It always does. Sometimes it takes longer than other times, but it never fully goes away.
There is a prevalent belief in this world that when you love a craft, you should perform that craft as often as you possibly can to get the most out of it. I think that belief is garbage. When you love something, you cannot force it. Love is natural. It speaks to your soul and causes you to react, not the other way around. So because I love to write, and because I enjoy interacting with all of you who like what I love, I give you this placeholder for now and the promise of a return, hopefully sooner rather than later. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe a week from now, maybe longer. You can’t place a deadline on the heart, as it turns out.
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I’m sitting on an outdoor couch in a stunning villa overlooking a bay and the entire city of Acapulco. It’s probably 75 degrees out, 2:30 a.m. local time. In less than 24 hours, I’ll be back in Seattle. For now, however, I’m surrounded by the droning chirp of crickets, a bevy of urban lights in the distance, and the occasional mosquito looking to feast on me. The world, it appears, has gone to bed. I’m the last of my travel mates — all coworkers of mine — awake. And yet for now, I can’t sleep.
It’s an odd picture, I imagine. I shouldn’t be on a laptop in paradise. Wearing jeans, no less. And a blue button-up shirt. These are all things I typically wouldn’t wear in warm weather. Fact about me: I get warm easily. Heat is not my forte. We just got back from a night out and I’ve been too lazy to change. Laziness > body temperature.
Today (well, by now it’s yesterday) is the third anniversary of the day I conceived this website. I don’t really know what to make of it. I never thought I’d last three years with a domain name and my thoughts in print. But that appears to be the case. It’s kind of weird. You never grow up thinking to yourself, Okay, one day when I get older I’ll have a job and in my spare time I’ll be writing everything I think about down for others to read. No one imagines that happening. And upon picturing that scenario, if by some strange chance you do happen to picture that scenario, you never figure that people will actually want to read the things you’ve jotted down. It’s odd, unique, perplexing, all of the above.
Every year I’ve made it 12 more months, I reflect on my existence since the last anniversary of this site’s birth. November 12th. It’s a date that has an inordinate amount of significance to me. I don’t have kids, so for now this URL and these words are my baby. They are what I take care of every day. I just do. I don’t know why. It’s not really out of obligation so much as it is love. I love to write. And I love to write here. Perhaps that’s the most important thing. I’ve been asked to write elsewhere. I’ve been offered opportunities here and there. I’ve even capitalized on those opportunities on occasion. But I’ve never found the words published anywhere else to be as valuable to me as the ones that appear on this page.
I know to many of you, this is just another website. It’s a place you go when you want to key into my thoughts — why you want to key into my thoughts is beyond me, but I appreciate the endorsement — or read about sports. To me, though, it’s more than that. This is my heart and soul. These aren’t just words. They are my emotions, my true feelings, and they are real. I’ve never wanted to be anything less than real when it comes to the things I write. It’s just not in me to act otherwise. And what I’ve found over the years is that people appreciate authenticity to an unrivaled degree. You can be the best scribe in the entire world, but if there isn’t a pulse to your writing — a genuine pulse — then your words are shit. You cannot fake passion and devotion. You can try, but you won’t succeed. Without passion, we are unhappy individuals. Without devotion, we are committed and accountable to nothing and no one. The value of our lives is found in the honest, passionate, devoted moments we afford ourselves.
I am very fortunate. I know how fortunate I am. I’m surrounded by amazing people. Those who have supported me, mentored me, raised me, encouraged me, shaped me, and allowed me to do this every day. I say it often, but it can’t be said enough. I am nothing without you. As it is, my thoughts are insignificant. They’re just thoughts. What matters to me is the people who read them and reflect upon them. Who are inspired by them and moved by them. Who share them and promote them. It is the people that matter to me. More than the URL, more than the letters on the screen, more than the effort of writing, itself. I do love to write. But I mostly love to write because of who reads the writing. It’s that simple.
When am I going to stop doing this? The other day, I was lucky enough to be interviewed about Dawg Pack Dirt, my one lasting contribution to the University of Washington (sorry I don’t donate more…or at all. One day it’ll happen. But if nothing else, you got thousands and thousands of dollars from me over six gloriously average years of education). The journalist interviewing me asked when I would essentially retire from publishing the gameday info sheet. I paused, then stuttered. I had never given this any thought. Just like I had never given any thought to quitting writing. And frankly, I still don’t know how to address this issue. I’m overly-invested in this website. One day I might have a wife and kids, or a different job that demands all my free time. But for now, I have the luxury of being able to do what I want with my spare hours in the day. And so I’m married to this thing. It’s my outlet. I know I want more. I want much more. But this isn’t a bad companion for the time being.
It’s 3:10 a.m. local time. I should go to bed. I have to be up in four hours to prepare for a flight back home. I miss Seattle. I shouldn’t. It rains there too much. And I’m in a tropical paradise right now. But for better or worse, that’s where my heart has chosen to settle. Damn geography.
Thank you for letting me be selfish enough to write this. Once a year I have to reflect on things. I mean, I do this other times, as well. But on November 12th (13th, in this case), I need a long second to look back and make sure I’m seeing this all correctly. I honestly don’t know how we got here. I feel like I’ve been out partying for three years and all I have right now are the clothes on my back and a content smile on my face. I feel good about this writing thing. I feel good about the people around me. We often entrust our hearts to one person. I’ve entrusted it to thousands. It’s insane. And yet it makes perfect sense. So thank you. You’ve been good to me. I really appreciate it. On to Year Four…
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Volume 8, Issue 2, November 12, 2011
Special to Seattle Sportsnet
Written by dedicated Dawg Pack members
-Georgia State Panthers @ Washington Huskies
-Alaska Airlines Arena at Hec Edmunson Pavilion, Seattle, Wash.
-Saturday, November 12, 2011, 2:00 p.m. PST.
-Georgia State University, Atlanta, Georgia.
-Georgia State is a member of the Colonial Athletic Association (CAA).
-Last season’s Georgia State team finished with a 12-19 overall record.
#1 G (Sr.) Josh Micheaux – Missouri City, TX
-Lovin’ his sparklers:
#4 G (Sr.) James Fields – Savannah, GA
-Nickname is Boom.
-Was in a high speed chase with campus police last spring.
*Editor’s note: Awesome.
-Disclaimer: we suggest all fathers hide their daughters before reading the following tweets…
-”Ladies I got so much flavor it don’t make sense…. I be #fresh“
-”Damn I pulled my groin today….sorry ladies but its a no go”
-”I need to talk to some body daughter til I get tired”
-”I’m not a father just yet but I’m about to treat myself to some Red Lobsters”
-Hit him up on Twitter @Boom9489.
-Girlfriend is named Brittany R. Jones.
#10 G (Fr.) Kevin Shaw – Louisville, KY
-A McDonald’s All-American nominee who averaged 22 ppg in his final prep season.
-Seems bitter he wasn’t recruited by Louisville. Let’s ask him about it.
-Full name is Kevin Durand Shaw Jr.
#11 G (Fr.) Tony Kimbro Jr. – Louisville, KY
-Girlfriend from high school, Naysha Kayy, tweeted her favorite #highskoomemorie was Tony getting in trouble “and being like ‘what, I’m Tony Kimbro’ than walking away.” Let’s let him know that attitude is not tolerated in our house.
-Father, Tony Kimbro Sr., was Kentucky’s Mr. Basketball in 1985 and played for Louisville. Seems to me like this Georgia State team is full of Louisville rejects.
-Was featured in an article with Tony Wroten Jr., where they referred to Wroten as “the best freshman in the country.” They described Kimbro as “not afraid to make mistakes” and “still developing physically, mentally and emotionally.” Our Tony Jr. > Your Tony Jr.
#12 G (So.) Devonta White – Alpharetta, GA
-Blessed. Averaged 5.2 ppg last year before suffering a high ankle sprain that ended his season after 12 games.
-Catch him on Twitter @tay_white.
#14 G (Sr.) Jihad Ali – Atlanta, GA
-For whatever reason, it looks like Jihad prefers to go by his middle name, Rahman. To be on the safe side, let’s just go with Mr. Ali.
-Ali is on the CAA All-Academic Team, majoring in Finance.
#15 G (Fr.) Tyler Gamble – Commerce, GA
*Editor’s note: Shortly after this photo was taken, Gamble accidentally shot a bald eagle out of the sky. Unfortunate.
-Girlfriend is Anna Lecia Appling.
-Even the baby knows to be afraid:
#20 F (Sr.) Eric Buckner – Erhardt, SC
-Arguably the most boring man on earth. No info exists on this guy. Though I hear Erhardt is beautiful this time of year.
#21 G (Fr.) Ryann Green – College Park, GA
-Catch him on Twitter @R_Green21 for wisdom like this:
“Ball so hard my ankle hurt.” Man, is he hardcore. Better get out of his way.
“The only thing I learned today came from twitter.” I think Green needs to get to class.
“When you ask someone if they’re good at basketball, and they respond ‘I’m best at defense’ ……they’re trash.” Can’t wait for him to meet UW and our “trash” players.
“everytime I move, something cracks.” This guy must have been ballin’ real hard.
“I AM RYANN GREEN.” Thanks for telling us.
“I feel like givin up everyday.” Don’t do it, homey.
“I honestly don’t know how I make it eaach day.” Poor guy, we better cheer him up.
“When you need a shoulder to cry on girl I wont listen.” How mean…
-11,095 tweets since January 9th, 2011. Thirty-six (36) tweets a day average. Maybe he should go to class more often.
*Editor’s note: He’s got me beat by 2,500 in half the time. I’m thoroughly impressed.
#22 C (Jr.) James Vincent – Columbus, GA
-Had a birthday on Nov. 5th. Ask him to do a birthday plank for us:
-He doesn’t ball like Green:
-His nickname is “Oak” or “Big Oak.” Let’s knock him down.
#24 F (Sr.) Brandon McGee – Chicago, IL
-A 2007 graduate of Chicago’s Crane High School. Rated as one of the top 30 prep players nationally at the time.
-Signed with Indiana out of high school and averaged 1.5 points and 1.0 rebounds in 17 games for the Hoosiers in 2007-08.
-Dude likes to drink:
-Probably after a night ragin’ with the Goose:
“This goes out to a very special person… Bi*ch stop callin me!!!!” Yeah, bitch.
“Free Spado. Thug by birth not by choice…” Whoever or whatever Spado is, he tweets a lot about freeing it.
“Loyalty def has a expiration date…” Everyone knows expiration dates don’t really matter.
“Just because you put syrup on sh*t dont make it pancakes!! Anybody can win the lottery!!!l” This is just stupid.
-His Twitter bio: “Indiana, Auburn, Georgia State!! Whats next-NBA”
-Finished last season as team’s second-leading scorer, averaging 7.8 ppg. Pulled down 4.8 rebounds per contest, tied for second most on the team.
#25 G (So.) Rashaad Richardson – James Island, SC
*Editor’s note: Ouch.
-Played AAU basketball for Team Truth.
-Career highs of three (3) points and 11 minutes.
-Find him on Twitter at @freeshev25.
-His dawg is RJ Berger:
-A quote from Rashaad: “Dang they canceled the Ross concert for homecoming SMH! Stay away from drugs kids bad things like seizures happen to you when you hit the weed too much.” That’s some solid advice right there.
-Rashaad “felt like being a little different” — but to me it seems like he got dressed in the dark:
*Editor’s note: They’re fakes.
#55 F (Sr.) Jamar Taylor – Charleston, SC
-Career highs of 18 minutes and 7 points.
-Seems to be into art — not sure if some of these are his or not… doesn’t seem likely: Taylor Made Album
-His own mother??! Now that’s just cold. Let’s ask the anti-mama’s boy about their relationship:
-JayTaylor55’s Pearls of Wisdom:
-I bet this is how he keeps his teeth so white:
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*Editor’s note: Believe it or not, it’s that time of year again. College basketball season is underway and that can mean only one thing for Husky fans: Dawg Pack Dirt. I’m proud to announce that we’re in our eighth year of your favorite gameday info sheet, dating back to the 2004-2005 season when I skipped class and hunkered down in Suzzallo Library to write this thing up for the first time.
This year, we have a good blend of young and old contributing to DPD. Many of the veterans who brought you last year’s Dirt have returned for another go-round in their final years of undergraduate study. Additionally, many newcomers have joined in the fun. I was lucky enough to be a part of their kickoff meeting a couple weeks ago and am thrilled to pay witness to the evolution of this tradition.
As always, the contributors to the Dirt will be hidden behind the anonymous veil of “dedicated Dawg Pack members.” All you need to know is that this is a team effort, and a great one at that. So without further ado, let’s get on with the show…
Dawg Pack Dirt: Seattle Pacific University
Volume 8, Issue 1, November 4, 2011
Special to Seattle Sportsnet
Written by dedicated Dawg Pack members
-Seattle Pacific Falcons @ Washington Huskies
-Alaska Airlines Arena at Hec Edmunson Pavilion, Seattle, Wash.
-Friday, November 4, 2011, 7:00 p.m. PST
-Note: This is an exhibition game and will not count towards either team’s regular season record.
-Seattle Pacific University, Seattle, Wash.
-SPU Falcons beat #16 Arizona 69-68 in exhibition last week.
-Last year, the Falcons defeated Eastern Washington and Nevada (both Division-I schools) in exhibition games.
#1 P (Fr.) Josh Jordan – Mountlake Terrace, WA
-He’s a little handsy.
#2 PG (So.) David Downs – Kirkland, WA
-Downs won the GNAC Freshman of the Year award last season with a whopping 5.8 ppg. Doesn’t take much does it?
#3 W (RS Fr.) Jonnie Washburn – Puyallup, WA
-Christian hip-hop anyone? Check out jonniewashburn.bandcamp.com.
-BTW, he is an AMAZING dancer.
#10 W (Fr.) Riley Stockton – Spokane, WA
-This dude has some big ass ears. Not sure why his mom is holding his balls.
-His uncle is John Stockton, whose son plays for Gonzaga. He also has a brother that plays point guard for Montana. Let’s see…that would make him the fourth best basketball player in his family? Ouch. That’s worse than EJ Singler.
*Editor’s note: This is a solid nominee for Awkward Family Photos. No doubt.
#12 PG (So.) Riley Carel – Enumclaw, WA
-Using his fame before he even has any:
#13 PG (RS Fr.) Ryan Todd – Mill Creek, WA
-Doppelganger according to him (or his friends) is Pee-Wee Herman. Pee-Wee was arrested for touching his Wee-Wee in a movie theater. Wonder if Todd has seen any movies lately??
-Also in the above picture with the hearts (under Jonnie Washburn’s dirt).
#14 P (Jr.) Andy Poling – Portland, OR
-Transferred from Gonzaga after he became their Brendan Sherrer.
#20 W (Fr.) Alex Weber-Brader – Olympia, WA
-Direct quote: “Why did we decidee to play University of Washington on the day Puss in Boots 3d comes out!?”
#21 W (Sr.) Jeff Dorman – Vancouver, WA
-His awesome trading card:
#22 P (Jr.) Kellan Moll – Anchorage, AK
-Pretty sure the other guy in this photo is Todd (Pee-Wee) again in an odd situation. Note the dude by his butt.
#23 W (Jr.) Jobi Wall – Arvada, CO
-Engaged to Abby. Extremely ginger. Maybe a South Park sign could be made. Or one about his lack of a soul.
#32 P (Sr.) Jake Anderson – Burlington, WA
-(On playing UW): “I just hope I get dunked on or do something weird so I can get on sportscenter..” He said he would prefer Romar or Sherrer to dunk on him.
-Terrence Ross on his bruised wrist: “I dunked too hard.” Anderson’s wish shall be granted. Teabag Part II?
-Some snippets from Anderson’s 30 personal random facts:
“6. i know too much sports facts, wish that helped in college haha”
“18- one of my front teeth is dead”
“27- always fall asleep on my right side hugging a pillow”
#33 W (Jr.) Scott Morse – Central Point, OR
-Nickname is Mookie.
-His fan page is blowin’ up. 136 likes.
#34 P (RS Fr.) Cory Hutsen – Sammamish, WA
Gets mistaken for Kris Humphries, aka ex-Mr. Kim Kardashian, quite often. Too bad he’s riding the bench, but remind him of his doppelganger anyway.
#55 P (Sr.) Modou Niang – Richard-Toll, Senegal
From Senegal, but went to high school in Tokyo, Japan, and somehow ended up at SPU after playing his freshman and sophomore seasons at Utah State. Quite the globetrotter.
Speaks Japanese, French, and Wolof (a native language of Senegal, Gambia and Mauritania) in addition to English. Our Wolof speaker is better, of course.
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Due to extraordinary conditions caused by the excesses of Bankers, speculators, and other rogue elements of our society who have created a cushy world for 1% of the population leaving those of us in the other 99% broke and in debt, this site has been temporarily transferred from an ordinary Baseball Blog to a voice for the 99%.
If you live in the Seattle area please come down to Westlake Center tomorrow to support OccupySeattle from noon to 4pm to lend support as we try to create a new world as part of an International day of action in the spirit of the OccupyWallstreet movement. Please bring warm clothes, your spirits and hearts, and a tent and sleeping bag for those so inclined. In the event you are part of the 1% or apathetic please feel free to find another Mariners Blog to read for awhile. Thanks. In solidarity, Jeff Engels Go 99%! http://jeffsmariners.com
Today is the final day to vote in KING 5′s Best of Western Washington Poll. Voting closes at 6:59 p.m. tonight, so if you haven’t voted yet and you’d like to, make sure you do it soon! SSN is up for Best Sports Blog (and Best Parenting Blog, apparently, as well), and at last check, we were in a heated battle for first place. Every vote helps.
You can vote by clicking here, or just click on the blue banner to the right.
I really want to thank everyone for voting. It means a lot that anyone would think that much of the site to take time to do that. So for those of you who have voted or will vote, thank you. And for those of you who continue to support the site by reading every now and then, thank you, as well. Wouldn’t be here without all you guys.
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The winning game will receive a write-up and endless amounts of notoriety on the pages of this website. Not only that, but advanced metrics show that winners of polls such as this usually have greater success throughout life and breed better children. It’s science.View This Poll
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These days it seems like every media outlet has a high school football Big Game of the Week. TV stations, newspapers, radio shows, the ice cream man, your next door neighbor, pedophiles. Everyone but local yokels like Seattle Sportsnet.
Well, that’s it! It’s time we had a Big Game of the Week, too. But our Big Game of the Week can’t be like everyone else’s. Oh no. They’d be expecting that. Our Game of the Week must be…bigger, much bigger. Obese! NO! Morbidly obese. Can’t get much bigger than that.
But that’s not all. If we’re going to do a Morbidly Obese Game of the Week, we need to find just the right teams to report on. That’s absolutely critical.
Let me ask you this. Are you a parent? Did you buy a house out in the sticks? Did you send your kid to private school because you didn’t want him getting beat up by hoodlums or forced into uncomfortable situations around people of less-fortunate circumstances? On the flip side, are you too lazy to move out of the hood and instead just send your kid to the nearest podunk learning institution that the bus will take him to? If you answered “yes” to any of these questions, then your child’s football team may very well be the one we’re leaning towards selecting for our Morbidly Obese Game of the Week.
Here’s the thing. There’s a certain type of school that attracts all the love in these Big Games of the Week. For the most part, it’s the major suburban public school. Fact is, your kid doesn’t attend such a facility. And as a result, your kid’s football team is S.O.L. So what do you do?
I’ll tell you what you do. You write to The Seattle Times bitching and moaning about how your 5-foot-8-inch, 165-pound junior linebacker is trying to get a college scholarship and WILL NOT BE ABLE TO because Mason Freakin’ Kelley won’t come out and write about the Charles Wright Warthogs, the Tacoma Adventist Archangels, or even the Tyee Forfeiteers. Or at least that’s what you used to do.
(Side note: I just made up all those mascots. Though if you know anything about Tyee, it’s a given that they should really be called the Forfeiteers.)
I’ve got a new solution for you: nominate your school for Seattle Sportsnet’s Morbidly Obese Game of the Week. You don’t need to bitch and moan anymore. We’ve got your back. We’ll give you that coverage you desire. We’ll be the ones to inflate your stats, make your kid sound really good on paper, and hopefully land him a free ride to some university that will ultimately get its ass kicked by every other university.
Starting next week, we’ll give you four choices for our Morbidly Obese Game of the Week. You can vote on who you want to win. The winner will get an article written about their game. If we can’t get any information about the game itself, we’ll just fabricate a really interesting story:
“Jimmy Brown-Spencer ran 89 yards for a touchdown, then celebrated by doing the Ickey Shuffle in the end zone. After being flagged for an unsportsmanlike conduct penalty, Brown-Spencer took his pants off and mooned the crowd before getting ejected and riding off with a cigarette in his mouth on a motorized dirtbike he had parked just outside the stadium.”
Stuff like that.
Anyway, Morbidly Obese Game of the Week. Get ready for that because it’s coming all over the place.
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