R.I.P. Gus: 10/18/1997 - 06/27/2008

My New Favorite Ballplayer

This guy throws almost ninety mph lefty and righty. Yep, you heard me. When this guy goes up against a switch-hitter, hilarity ensues.

You Make the Call . . .

I was at a wedding reception in Michigan recently and I swear a more svelte version of Charlie Weis walked in and started looking for food. Notice how he nonchalantly heads straight for the kitchen and takes a quick peek to see what's cookin'.

So what's the verdict? Is it really Coach Frontbutt?

Oh How the Mighty Have Fallen . . .

Coming in to this season, our co-ed softball team, Scared Hitless, has absolutely dominated the competition, including a sweep of the regular season and tournament titles last year. The other teams have simply been outclassed, proving to be no match for our all-star roster which boasts 6 former collegiate athletes and 1 intramural all-star (atta boy, Jon).

Well, to put it bluntly, we finally got our asses absolutely handed to us last night. For the first time in my eight years with the team, we were not only 10-run ruled, but we were shutout . . . in softball . . .slow-pitch softball. This complete de-pantsing made me wonder if I had ever been more humiliated during a sporting event than I was on Monday night. After going back through the mental archive, I can say, with utmost confidence, that this tops of the list of my most humiliating sports experiences ever. Here's a quick rundown:

#5
It was senior year of high school, we were big men on campus. I was the starting center on the basketball team (yes, a 6'2" 160lb center, welcome to IHSA class A hoops) and we were playing the Deland-Weldon Eagles at home. I'm convinced that D-W was the 2nd worst basketball program in the state (behind Normal Calvary Baptist) and we had circled this game on the calendar from day 1. Nothing was better than putting up a 50 pt win on a hopelessly overmatched team. This game was such a stone-cold, lead-pipe lock that me and my buddy on the team were shooting NBA 3's and other circus shots during the pregame warmups. For some reason the head coach didn't think that was as awesome as we did and without warning decided to bench us for THE ENTIRE GAME. I was so embarrassed and pissed off after the game that I irrationally proclaimed that I wasn't going to play baseball in the spring for this buttmunch. (our baseketball coach was also our baseball coach, and P.E teacher, and athletic director, and health teacher, and assistant principal.) Luckily, I came to my senses or else humiliating moment #4 would have never happened.

#4
Senior year baseball. I was having a solid year, the team was doing well, but that just wasn't good enough. I knew that our competition wasn't the greatest, and I was having trouble accepting "good enough." I wanted perfection. My lack of perfection finally sent me over the edge when I lost a shutout in the last inning of a game against a conference foe. It was the 3rd or 4th game where I had given up one run and I finally snapped. After the 3rd out I stomped over to the dugout and threw my glove against the dugout and went postal. It was by no means the greatest baseball tirade ever, but I was definitely causing a scene. Luckily my asst. coach came over and sat me down and lectured me on how to be preofessional and keep my composure. He made me realize how much of an immature douche I was being and I felt like a comlete tool after I calmed down.

#3

Par 3 golf course, circa 1990. Mom had taken me and a friend to the par 3 golf course one Saturday where you could play all day for $4. I had Dad's clubs and we were hacking it up and having a grand ol' time. Then it all went south. I teed it up on one of the holes and completely duffed it. A groundball to shortstop if you will. As any self-respecting golfer would do, I took a mulligan. And duffed it again. This process repeated itself about 6 more times before the temper flared up once more and I chucked the 7-iron I was holding as far as I could. I could only watch in disbelief as my Dad's 7 iron went spinning, in slow motion it seemed, right out into the middle of a lake. If I wasn't so stunned, I might have been more angry at my friend. who was rolling around in tears of laughter at my misfortune.

#2

Corporate league softball, 2005. It was my first year at the new company. I was Mr. ex-baseball player super athlete in the eyes of my co-workers and they were all too happy to sign up for the corporate team that I organized, completely confident that I could lead them to the corporate league promised land. To make a long story short, the park district had to merge the corporate league with the A-league and the team was promptly disbanded after an 0-10 inaugural season.

And finally. . .

#1

A little over 24 hours ago. The emotional wounds have started to heal just enough for me to recall that horrible night. The game started out full of promise. We were playing our primary competiton for the league title, a rematch of the season opener which we had lost 9-8 after playing an awful game. We knew we could play better that we had and we were ready to show the other team why we had won so many titles this decade. The news that our shortstop and best hitter had been puking for 2 straight days and our pitcher had dropped a full keg on his foot made us a little nervous, but we still knew we could pull out a win. After a shaky start, we held it together and only gave up one run in the first inning. That would be as close as we would ever get. We were so thoroughly PO4N3D that we only got a runner as far as second base twice. And in the first game as the team's go-to guy batting in the three hole, I swung and completely missed the first pitch, then proceeded to pop up to shortstop, pop up to short left field and on the last play of the game I hit a weak grounder back to the pitcher. As bad as that was, I was worse in the field. All 3 or 4 throws that I made from the outfield took at least 5 hops to get where they were going, and I took a horrible route on a line drive and then fell down as the other team's worst hitter rounded the bases for a 3-run, back-breaking, inside the park homer, thus cementing this game as my #1 most embarassing sports moment of all time.




(Honorable mention goes to my performance in "bags" tonight. After beating my neighbor in the first game and taking a 14-4 lead in game 2, I sqeaked out a 21-19 win before losing the final two contests. Mercifully, the deciding game 5 was suspended due to darkness.)

I Have Become "That Guy"

It is with a heavy heart that I write today. After living in denial for a couple of years now, I have come to the horrible realization that I have indeed become "That Guy." I can't tell you exactly when it happened. I suppose it has been a long, gradual process and therefore it went largely unnoticed all of this time. Sure, there were a couple of times where I thought to myself, "am I really acting this way?" But up until a couple of weeks ago, I convinced myself that it was no big deal. I would make jokes about it "pretending" that I was becoming "That Guy", but all the while trying to convince myself that that's all it was, just joking around.

Not anymore.

I have become "Lawn Guy."

When we first moved in to our house a couple of years ago, I liked the way our lawn looked. The new sod in the front yard looked great, and I could see how it could make a man proud to have a nice looking lawn. What I couldn't see at the time was how people could get so emotionally involved in the upkeep of their lawns.

The backyard has always been pretty crappy looking. It was seeded, not sod like the front yard, and we moved in July 31. I think it was over 100 degrees the day we moved in and at least 97 for the next few days after that. Needless to say, new seed doesn't like to grow when it is 100 degrees outside. So the first year, the back yard was really patchy but I could live with it. I realized that Rome wasn't built in a day and the builder even warned us it would take 2-3 years for the backyard to really get established. I figured I would seed a little in the fall, seed a little in the spring, and maybe have something workable by early summer 07.

Little did I realize at the time, 80% of the seed that germinated was annual ryegrass.

For those who don't know a lot about grass types and/or don't give a crap, there are basically two types of grass. Perennial and annual. Perennial grass goes dormant in the winter and comes back in the spring. Annual grass, on the other hand, is the type that grows for one year and then dies. Forever. Apparently the mix of seed in the back yard had some of each. Annual is used because it has a higher germination rate and can help get a lawn growing while the perennial grass fills in over time. I wish I had known at the time that my entire back yard would turn to straw over the winter, I might have been a little more pro-active about seeding.

But even then, after all of that, we still had a decent start to the lawn and I just figured it would take a little longer to get the full, lush turf I desired. I have never been the most patient person, but I realized this is something that would take a lot of time and effort, and I was OK with that.

That is, until Roger Bossert moved in to the house behind us

Mr. Bossert, whose real name is Richard (which I have affectionately shortened to "Dick", apparently has a bit of a green thumb when it comes to growing grass. He has been in his house at least one year less than we have, but his back yard already looks impeccable. No bare spots, deep green color, you get the idea.

At first, I didn't mind that his lawn looked so great and mine so un-great. I just assumed that he had gone through this before and knew that he had to put a lot of work in up front to get the lawn established. But then, I noticed little things that seemed to get under my skin, almost bringing me to the point of rage.

For instance, one warm sunny day when I was out seeding my lawn, Dick and his kids were out in their yard. The kids, toddler age, were running around having a good time as kids tend to do. And then I heard it. The older one, maybe 3 years old, says to dear old dad, "Daddy, the grass is so beautiful!"

W. T. F.

What kind of freakin 3 year old tells his dad the grass is beautiful?? I was convinced that comment was planted just to get under my skin.

And then there was the episode about a month ago. I'm out mowing the back yard, kicking up dust from our dried out, barren tundra and I look over and see Dick come out of the house with a little bag of seed. And as I continue to mow, he walks around his back yard sprinkling little pinches of seed over his imaginary bare spots. That is the first time the thought of dousing his yard with Round-Up came to mind.

And then the proverbial straw that broke the camels back. I was watching TV one day with the windows open, which is a significant occurrence considering the spring (or lack there-of) that we've had, and all the sudden I hear heavy machinery operating right behind me. My first thought was that the builder was doing some work on the lot behind us, no big deal. Then I saw it. Dick came rumbing in to the back yard with a commercial grade, front deck riding mower.

Never mind the fact that our lots are only 1/4 acre. And on top of that, because the way the roads curve in our subdivision, my yard opens up in the back and his narrows causing his yard to be about half the size of mine. I had never even considered a riding mower for our yard. There was no need and I would feel like an absolute goof trying to mow my yard with a huge riding mower. You would have to spend more time trimming the spots that you couldn't get to with that behemoth. But that didn't stop ol' Dick. You could see the pride on his face as he mowed his entire back yard in about 4 minutes.

So . . .Dick is out mowing again, and I am here writing about it so that I keep myself distracted long enough to prevent wasting my time scheming up devious plans to sabotage his lawn or his new piece of farm machinery.

I did manage to snap a picture of said equipment. Notice the double lever control and the double bagging action. Nevermind the fact that he couldn't fill both bags if he mowed his yard 4 times since he mows every 3 or 4 days. Also notice the kitchen table and chairs that he has decided to leave in his back yard even though I haven't seen it being used in the year that they've lived there. Try not to notice how my yard looks like dog crap compared to the Lord of the Lawn's masterpiece.

Christ, I need a beer.

Random baseball thoughts....

As a cardinal fan living in the Chicago area, let me just tell you how much it sucks that the cubs have the best record in baseball. And not only that, but freakin' Jim Edmonds learned how to hit again. I think I'm gonna puke... I always hated when this pic showed up when he was with the cardinals, but now that he is the enemy, I figured it would be a good time to dust off this picture of Jimmy Ballgame one last time.

Cards can't pull off the sweep tonight. It will be interesting to see how they hold up with El Hombre on the shelf with the calf injury. You never hear any discussion about the cards up here since everyone is convinced the cubs are a team of destiny this year (again), but the redbirds have been putting together a pretty decent year so far. They have the 2nd best record in the league through tonight's games and a 2.5 game lead in the wild card race. If another month goes by and the good guys are still in the mix, I might have to start making an emotional investment in this year's team.

Proud papa moment

The little one is playing his first season of real baseball. No more tee-ball, no more coach-pitch crap.



From the early returns, he is going to break both my career strikeouts record . . . and career hit-by-pitch record.



Keep gettin' in their kitchen, son...

Welcome to My Blog

Well, here it is. My first attempt at blogging. I've never really had much interest in blogging, but I started reading an old friend's blog the other day and thought that updating my own blog would be an interesting way to entertain myself. If anyone else gets some sort of entertainment from it, all the better.

I'm guessing that this blog won't be updated very often, if at all. In fact, it might not be much more active than this blog.



I'm guessing that this blog will mainly focus on stuff that I think is funny, idiotic, or awesome. Which brings me to the name of this blog. I have an unhealthy man-crush on Ron Zook. So much so that I decided to use that as my pseudonym. Ron Zook is like a cross between He-Man and Dirk Diggler.

Now that I have that off my chest....

Well, that about does it for the blog introduction. Back to watching the U.S. Open. (The US Open and the College World Series all on the same weekend. . . .life is good)