Bloggy Birthday To Me

It's a watershed day as Well, Since You Asked... turns one year old today. It's crazy to think of how much has happened since I was that young, disgruntled Los Angeles resident eager for an opportunity to procrastinate from my mundane job. At the time, I was pondering the idea of starting my own website so that I could write and publish whatever I wanted. I had heard of "weblogs" but I assumed they required a monthly fee. But when good 'ol Gary told me that he started a blog (and that such blogs are, in fact, free) I hastily jumped on the bandwagon.

I was hooked instantly, which is obvious from the fact that back then I often posted more than one entry per day. It was nice having an outlet for all the opinons, rants, observations and random discussion topics floating around in my head. I owe a big thanks to everyone who has taken the time to sit down and read what I have to say. But once you get an audience, all of a sudden you feel a certain amount of pressure to deliver consistently. And with my time being consumed by a new, much more enjoyable job and a more active social life, I just haven't been able to devote as much mental energy to WSYA. There have been certain times over the past year where I've considered ending the blog since I was posting infrequently and I felt the need to blog just for the sake of blogging. But whenever that thought enters my head I just think: "Slow down there, champ. You're not publishing the Daily Mirror, here. It's OK if you're not posting like clockwork." So I will continue on my current path, blogging when the spirit moves me. But my resolution for Year Two is to catch the spirit a bit more often.

 
Offseason Illustrated

Last week's Alex Rodriguez trade to the Yankees capped off what has to be the greatest baseball offseason ever. With the improbability of the deals, the sheer volume of transactions, the marquee names switching teams, the bizzare circumstances involved (Curt Schilling visiting a Red Sox message board at 2am? Clemens and Pettite ditching New York for the Astros?) during the winter of '03-'04, the hot stove was downright incandescent. So how can the actual games this year possibly live up to the drama of the past three months?

The answer is that it can't because baseball's offseason is now flat-out better than its regular season. I'm actually a little sad to see the hot stove league end. We can all agree that nothing can top the drama of the postseason, or the twinge of anticipation that comes at the opening of spring training. But the staggeringly protracted 162-game trek through the season wears me out as a fan. It's hard to get excited about a pennant race in May when you know that there are five months left of games against the Brewers, Rockies and Expos of the world. Conversely, each offseason it's hard not to get excited about the moves your team makes, as fan optimism reigns supreme: This trade will DEFINITELY shore up our bullpen. And I heard our rightfielder hired a nutritionist this winter- he's due for a monster year!

In fact, this winter's excitement has given me a grand idea: an entire magazine devoted to all of sports' offseasons. Imagine: coaching changes, free-agent signings, NBA Draft previews, hot stove rumors, NCAA recruiting battles, scouting combine reports, college football signing day hype... there's a limitless supply of fodder for such a publication. And you'd never have to concern yourself with unimportant fluff like wins and losses.

 
You Cannot Be Serious

I'm afraid. I am afraid that I'm about to wake up and hit my pillow with the realization that what took place this afternoon was just one long dream. Because it couldn't possibly have been real. Surely my beloved Stanford basketball team didn't defeat our most hated rival with an impossible 35 foot shot at the buzzer, right?

My day began at about 8:30am, when I arrived at Maples Pavillion to take my place in a line that was already about 700 people deep. This was the most elaborate 6th Man Club campout the school had ever had, as there were about about 15 tents set up overnight. I had the good fortune to find myself in line behind two of my Branner friends, so the next two and a half hours flew by and when the gates finally opened it was sunny and relatively warm for a February morning. My second bit of good luck was that I was able to get second row seats, once again due to some old Branner connections. See that's the good thing about being an RA for two years in a freshman dorm-- a lot of people wind up owing you favors.

The pre-game atmosphere was chillingly good. Everyone was buzzing about impatiently-- due to the pent-up frustration that comes from four straight Maples losses to the dastardly Wildcats. As the players were being announced, I noticed that a few of the students around me were extra excited and I suddenly realized that they weren't paying attention to any of the Stanford players who were taking the floor. I turned my head to where they were pointing to see Tiger Woods taking a courtside seat eight feet in front of me. I froze as I came to the realization that I'd be in the presence of a sports deity while simultaneously standing witness to the biggest game of the year. As the "Holy shit, it's Tiger Woods!" sentiment quickly spread through the crowd in the moments before tip-off, the game took on an epic significance-- this was now officially a scene.

The first half was surprisingly enjoyable for me. I say this because I'm typically a complete emotional wreck during these big Stanford games, as my competitive ferocity usually overshadows my ability to have fun at these things. But as I watched Stanford build a nice lead, I felt a sense of contentment, a joy even, despite the fact that I knew there was a looong way to go and my state of being wouldn't stay this swell for the entire game. Because in college basketball, anything less than a 10 point lead is essentially the same as a tie game. It's like the margin of error in a presidential poll-- a nine point lead in the first 37 minutes of regulation is statistically insignificant.

When the Cats made that 14-0 run in the second half, you could feel the wheels falling off. Everyone in the crowd was in denial as we cheered harder and harder as Stanford's lead evaporated, but we all knew what was happening. When Salim Stoudamire hit that dagger-in-the-heart 3 with under a minute left it was very, very hard to hold out hope that we could overcome a four point deficit. But then things started getting surreal. I mean, when's the last time Stanford played a trap-- and actually forced a steal from a trap? When Childress hit the three-pointer that tied the score at 77, the crowd around me erupted, but for some reason I stayed silent. My body just refused to react and I just stood there hyperventalating as everyone around me went bezerk. Perhaps I knew, that bigger celebrations were to come?

As 'Zona tried to get the ball up the court I could sense that the Cats were out of sync. The crowd noise was overwhelming, our surprising pressure defense clearly caught them off guard and it just seemed like Nick Robinson and Matt Lottich were confident while Mustafa Shakur and Salim Stoudamire looked flustered. So when Nick came up with the loose ball with 4 seconds left, it was almost like I expected it. Many of us were screaming and gesturing for Nick to call a timeout so that we could set up some kind of offensive set to win the game. Obviously, none was needed. When Nick's heave rattled in the basket, it was like the world around me exploded.

Things were blurry, everything was shaking and people were making sounds I had never heard before. The storming of the court was instant and engulfing, like champagne spewing from a shaken-up bottle of Cristal. We didn't even bother to go around the two rows of spectator seats between the stands and the court and several of the rich fans (including Jim Plunkett's wife) were knocked to the ground. We spent a good 30 minutes jumping up and down on the Maples floor, hugging sweaty players and random fans. Everyone had already realized that they had just witnessed a game that will join Madsen's and-one to beat Rhode Island and Casey's bankshot to beat Duke in the annals of Stanford basketball lore (not to mention one of the greatest finishes in college basketball history) and nobody wanted to let the moment go.

I kept repeating "The greatest ever! The greatest ever!" as I wandered around the court hugging my friends. I could use adjectives like exhausted, relieved, euphoric and incredulous, but the best way to describe how I felt at that moment is grateful. A fan can only wish to have their favorite team win a game like that in a manner like that and I still feel so blessed to have been there in person. When I think about everything that was involved today- the bitter rivalry, the disappointments of the past four years, standing within spitting distance of Tiger Woods, the last minute comeback, the miraculous buzzer-beater, the rapturous celebration- I can say in all seriousness that was one of the greatest moments of my life.

So now I just sit and wonder- did this all really happen?

 
That Titilating Controversy

For all the debate raging about whether yesterday's Janet Jackson peep show was premeditated, I think the only thing I can be sure about is that CBS did not know ahead of time. People like Matt Drudge insist that the network was eager for the publicity, but there's no way that CBS would voluntarily subject itself to the heavy fine about to be levied by the FCC.

The incident raises an interesting dilemma for CBS, because Jackson is scheduled to perform at next Sunday's Grammys, which will be shown on the Eye network. So if you're the head honcho at CBS, do you:

A) Scratch Janet from the lineup as a punishment for embarrassing the network and costing it thousands of dollars in fines; or
B) Keep Jackson on the show and promote the hell out of it, knowing it would lead to a surefire ratings bonanza?

If I were running the show, I'd pick B, because why should I sacrifice ratings when my network was not at fault? We're the ones who have to deal with all the offended Super Bowl viewers, so we should at least be able to benefit from the fiasco with some extra eyeballs next Sunday.

 
Super Sunday Speculation

I'm having a hard time getting hyped up for today's Super Bowl. It's a rather underwhelming matchup because both of these teams have such unexciting offenses, so many no-name players and I never got much of a chance to see them play this season until the playoffs. This game reminds me of the Ravens-Giants Super Bowl three years ago, when everyone was like "these teams are playing for the NFL title?" The fact that the Pats and Cats are both defense-oriented could make for a plodding game without any big plays or memorable moments.

However, the flip side to this is that the game could be close. People always forget that you don't need to have exciting teams to have an exciting game: two well-coached, low scoring clubs could end up tied late in the game. Either way, it's the Super Bowl for godsakes: you've got to watch.

In any case, here's how I see this game being played out: New England, benefitting from their experience and the confidence of Tom Brady, get the early momentum and go up 10-0. But Carolina eventually establishes their running game, and Stephen Davis dominates the second and third quarter. Both field goal kickers have a busy day, as both offenses move the ball but have trouble punching it in the end zone. Turnovers and special teams also play a big role and in the middle of the 4th quarter, Carolina finds itself with a 16-13 lead. But Brady rallies his troops and conducts a masterful drive, culminating in a touchdown with less than two minutes left. Thrust into the two-minute drill, a desperate Jake Delhomme forces a bad throw, which Ty Law intercepts and returns for a touchdown, capping a 27-16 Pats win.