I kissed a girl…and I liked it.
There was no left shark flailing awkwardly behind me and I didn’t have billions of onlookers breaking down my every move. This was just an innocent little peck from my daughter before she ran down to join her team for soccer practice.
Had Bill Belichick seen it, his response would’ve probably been something along the lines of, “That all you got, bro?” In fact, I can’t imagine anyone thinking anything of this public display of affection…except me.
You see, my daughter Addison isn’t one to give me kisses. She even backs into hugs most of the time. We’ve got what I think is a pretty good relationship (though she’s only 8 now, so I imagine there’ll be storms to weather down the road), and it’s painfully obvious that we share more than just a last name.
So when she actually offered to give me that little smooch, I was somewhat taken aback, but in a good way. And if that wasn’t enough, she even suggested during our drive home after practice that we watch sports so that I could teach her more about them. Be still my heart. It’s almost enough to make a guy think he’s doing a good job as a father.
But I’m still little more than an imperfect man in an imperfect world, confronted each day with the TOOTBLANs of life, those moments that stand as testament to the fact that there’s always room for at least one more bad idea or failed attempt. These are what we like to call “nopes.”
Case in point: as I was observing soccer practice, there were a couple of work-league basketball games taking place immediately adjacent. I could not have been more morbidly transfixed had a train wreck been exploding next to me.
In my mind’s eye, I saw myself as Shep in Above the Rim, stepping onto the court in my work clothes to bust those cats up a little bit. I mean, it’s not as though either team had a young Avon Barksdale out there doling out justice in the form of uncalled flagrant fouls. But alas, my uninvited participation would’ve been a big ol’ nope.
It wouldn’t have been the only one of the week though. So imagine, if you will, Wavin’ Wendell Kim windmilling all of the following runners home against the better judgment
Hangin’ with Mr. Cooper
You probably already know that February is Black History Month. It’s reasonable to assume that the Philadelphia Eagles know this too, as does the company responsible for producing their NFL-licensed 2015 wall calendar. But that didn’t stop them from slapping Riley Cooper’s picture on the second month of the year.
Sure, that Kenny Chesney concert was a long time ago, and sure, it’s possible that this was just an unfortunate mistake. But the tinfoil-hat-wearing side of me can’t help but think that some anonymous employee at the printing company just trolled everyone hard.
Don’t press send!
If only Herm Edwards had been there to advise Knicks owner James Dolan prior to sending out that damning piece of electronic mail. Oh, Jimmy, don’t ever change.
Parents just don’t understand
The boys from Jackie Robinson West were stripped of their Little League accomplishments due to the selfish acts of the adults who were supposed to be showing them the right way to play the game. I’m sorry, kids, for all of us.
West you forget
Kanye West is at it again. Some say he’s a musical genius, but I tend to think his smarts lie more on the marketing side of things. The guy is supremely obnoxious and painfully pretentious, but boy does he know how to promote himself. But the notion that Beyoncé has even a fraction of Beck’s musicianship is laughable.
In any case, I guess it’s a good thing Brandon Browner wasn’t there running security detail. Sounds like he’d enjoy deflating Yeezus’s ego by at least a few psi.
Editor’s note: I realize that this isn’t really sports related, per se, but I’m gonna try to shoehorn it in here.
Remember that marathon Cubs/Rockies game last year, the one that ran so long that WGN ran out of commercials? Well, okay, they didn’t really run out. Instead, we were subjected to a seemingly endless loop of the Bud Light Lime-a-Rita guy singing Lionel Richie and hawking those tropical-flavored abominations.
Ah, but the company known for making beer the hard way wasn’t content to leave well enough alone with that fruity firewater in a can. And so it is that they’ve now unleashed Mixxtails, a concept no one asked for, into the world. Why not just re-release Zima and include a Jolly Rancher variety pack and a bottle of grenadine in every case?
Now, lest I eventually be outed as a hypocrite, I do have to cop to enjoying my share of St. Ides Special Brew back in the day. But that was typically as the second half of what we dubbed the St. Ides Combo, wherein you drank a 40 oz of the high gravity before moving to the flavored stuff. And that stuff had noted restorative and aphrodisiacal properties.
But now I feel like Chris Pratt’s character in Jurassic World, just staring in AB-Inbev’s general direction and angrily asking, “You did what?!” My only hope is that these monstrosities will not make their way to Wrigley as a result of the Cubs’ deal with A-B.
You may have heard that All-Star point guard Chris Paul was recently fined $25,000 for his criticism of an official…who happened be female. I’m not peeved about the fine, but rather the fact that everyone seemed to want to make it a gender issue.
At the risk of getting all diatribical, I have to say that I’m getting sick and tired of this incessant need to make every issue some part of a more diabolical weltanschauung. I know this might be hard to understand, but sometimes people say things without regard to race, sex, or color. Crazy, right?
Then again, there are plenty of times when insensitivity is the direct result of willful ignorance. Alas, I’ve probably already said too much. Please excuse me while I climb back down from my soapbox.
Up on the roof
Those pesky rooftop owners are at it again, this time with a motion to get a temporary restraining order to halt the erection of signs and video boards at Wrigley Field. But with the need to prove irreparable damage and a risk to the public interest, both the timing and premise this ploy seem like to get an “uh-uh” from the judge.
I’m sure there were plenty more nopes this week, but it’s kinda depressing to catalog too many at once. I suppose I could have discussed Mr. Telander again, but I think I’ve beaten that drum plenty already. At the end of the day, I take solace in the fact that the Cubs didn’t make this list in any way.
Enjoy your weekend, everyone, and try to avoid any nopes while you’re at it.