jimmy

Too lazy to write today. My first ever video blog. Topics include feeling cheap after writing up last night’s Dodger game, the weirdness of the game, it’s fucking hot, my awful hockey playoff ‘stache and some token swearing.

This dude on DList had this in his profile:

Likes: confidence, maturity, intellect, muscle, abs, sporty, adventurous.

I DO NOT LIKE- fat, ugly, butter faces, blacks & asians, old, hairy, obese, midgets, queens, fag hags, fruity, guys who wear underwear with designs or prints, guys who like to sniff underwear or jockstraps, creepy, skinny, pale, bald, blondes, squinty eyes, bad teeth, poor hygiene, long hair, jewelry, lots of piercings, cockrings, slings, leather, daddies, bears and so on….. this does NOT make me a racist nor hater…. i simply KNOW what i like, and what i cleary DONT like, so if you dont like it, then shut the fuck up and dont send me an email… cause i dont give a shit.

This makes me wonder what in fact he really likes. I’m confused.

This picture is a good illustration of my ability to play right field: I got none.

I had a dream a couple of weeks ago that the Dodgers were playing the Angels at Dodger Stadium. In the middle of the game the Angels find out they’re out of outfielders so Manager Mike Scioscia tells me to go out on the field. Before I can protest that I have no baseball-playing abilities I’m being pushed out on the field in my everyday clothes, not an Angels uniform.

You see there is only one sport I can play with any sort of competency: tennis. I can’t catch. I can’t hit a ball with a baseball bat. I throw like a girl. I can’t skate. I have little or no hand-eye coordination.

So there I am in right field at Dodger Stadium. I don’t know who’s at the plate, but thwap! The line drive comes screaming at me. I try to judge the trajectory perfectly and stand right where I think the ball will drop in my glove. So of course it drops a foot over my head.

The next batter hits a bouncing single to right field. I bend down to get the ball to my glove, but I have Bill Buckner moment – the ball goes under my glove and between my legs. E9 and a run scores. I feel the glare of the other outfielders as I hang my head in my ineptitude.

Next batter: a ball comes to me. At this point all the hitters are deliberately targeting my horrible defense. This repeats itself with less and less detail until I wake up.

Moral of the story? Don’t play baseball or be anywhere near a situation where I can be inserted into a game.

I decided to take the Colorgenics test. Here’s what it spit out:

You are tending to pursue your objectives with concentrated intensity and it would seem that whatever obstacles may come into your path, you will stick to your guns and will not allow yourself to be deflected from your purpose. You are striving to achieve recognition and what is more – you deserve it.

You ‘need to be needed’. As an idealist you are intolerant of anything short of special consideration from those close to you. If you do not get what you seek you are apt to become reclusive and you will close the doors on all those within your sphere of influence.

You wear your heart on your sleeve and since you are an emotional person you are apt to give your all – heart and soul – to all those that show you a little affection; but take care – it would appear that you have been extremely hurt in the past and you keep leaving yourself wide open for punishment.

Recent disappointment has led you to become truly introverted. You are becoming suspicious of everybody and consequently you now feel that you are unable to trust anybody. Unfortunately it would appear that you are curbing your natural enthusiasm and imaginative nature – perhaps this is because you are fearful that you may become over enthused and find that you could possibly be carried away by wishful thinking. You are keeping your distance to see whether attitudes towards you are sincere – but this watchfulness could easily develop into suspicion and distrust.

You really would like to be completely uninhibited – to let your hair down – but you are held back by your sense of logic and rationalilty, since you realise that by simple stupidity you could lose everything – whatever that may be.

During the Winter Olympics nothing was more compelling to watch than the hockey tournament. When it came down to Team USA and Team Canada in the gold medal game, I sent off an email to the LA Kings and asked to cover them. Surprisingly I didn’t have to haggle very much to get them to agree.

Having been a casual viewer at best prior to this I not only had to learn how to watch the game but how to write about it. And with the Kings making the postseason for the first time since 2002 last year, I got to witness the Stanley Cup Playoffs just four months after starting to cover the game.

This season I started from the very beginning and now as the Kings season is over, I just can’t get enough hockey. It’s a very fast paced game filled with the brutality to make football players cry and the finesse to make soccer players gape in astonishment. Blood is spilled, sweat permeating everything in the ice cold rink and there I am in the press box taking it all in.

So here I am at home watching the NHL Network and Versus to get in as much playoff hockey as possible. I really can’t be bothered with the NBA playoffs despite the Lakers still in it. I can’t bear to watch the Dodgers and all of the drama that surrounds them. If I could I would be sitting in the Bell Centre tonight catching the Montreal Canadiens try to stave off elimination against the Boston Bruins. Or up in Vancouver seeing the Canucks try to prevent an epic playoff collapse against the Chicago Black Hawks.

But I know come late October I will once again walk through the halls of STAPLES Center waiting for the puck to drop for the Kings. And knowing that will help the baseball season go just a bit faster.

One of the biggest moments of zen when I get done covering a Dodger game is coming out into a mostly deserted parking lot and having a smoke looking towards Downtown Los Angeles. I really needed that last week.

On Tuesday I covered the Los Angeles Kings Game 3 against the San Jose Sharks rather than the Dodger game against the Atlanta Braves. The Kings got a 4-0 early in the second period, allowed five goals in the second period which made it a 5-5 tie. The Sharks scored the winning goal in overtime for the 6-5 victory – one of the biggest collapses in NHL Playoff history.

On Wednesday I went to Kings practice to get a day-after piece out of it. On my way to Dodger Stadium from the Kings practice facility in El Segundo, news broke the Major League Baseball took over control of the Dodgers from owner Frank McCourt. Oh geez, collapse no. 2.

On Thursday I was already set for a double-header: Dodger game in the morning, Kings-Sharks Game 4 at night. During the Dodger game the newly appointed vice chairman and LA civic leader Steve Soboroff came into the press box and gave a 25 minute press conference that was rambling and ranting. Just sheer craziness. Then the Kings just didn’t show up in Game 4 losing the game and being on the brink of elimination. 8 am to midnight of writing, transcribing and being all over the place.

Friday I just collapsed. Just slept and was dead to the world.

So I look at that blurry picture, take a deep breath and just continue on.

Being someone that covers and writes about multiple sports I frequently am at a game while having to pay attention to two, three other games. But last night was something ridiculous.

I’m sitting in the press box at Dodger Stadium taking in a leisurely game between the Dodgers and St. Louis Cardinals. However at the same time the other team I cover, the LA Kings, were playing the first game of their playoff series against the San Jose Sharks up in the Shark Tank.

The game in front of me was a mess: wild pitches, passed balls, errors. It wasn’t fun to watch which made for finding something to write about quite difficult.

The game in San Jose: the Sharks score a goal 28 seconds into the game and completely dominated the Kings in the first period despite the score remaining 1-0. So two bad games. Eh, you can’t win them all.

But in the second period the Kings found new life and eventually ended the period tied 2-2. In other words it got very interesting. Meanwhile in front of me, a single here, a single there, a run comes through – it was watching death by paper cuts.

Usually I have the majority of a recap written out by the eighth inning so all I have to do after the game is insert quotes and do some editing. On this night I was in front of a television in the press box dining room along with Fox Sports Net television reporter Patrick O’Neal (son of Ryan, baby-daddy of Rebecca De Mornay’s kids) watching as the Kings and Sharks went into overtime.

I got nothing. So I wrote a couple of paragraphs quickly, the game ended, I got quotes and I finished a particularly unremarkable piece. By the way when I was downstairs waiting to get into the Dodgers’ clubhouse after the game the Sharks’ Joe Pavelski hit the game winning goal.

Things will get interesting next Thursday. The Dodgers have a 12:15 p.m. game while the Kings have a 7:30 p.m. home game. So it will be a rare double-header for me where I will be running around from 8:00 a.m. to hopefully midnight (unless the game goes into multiple overtimes.)

Anyhow that’s it. Just a little look behind the proverbial media curtain.

As mentioned I did rent a room at The Standard in Downtown LA to celebrate my birthday. People did bring in booze and junk take out food. And boy did it wreck me.

The problem: I didn’t really eat anything. I had covered a Kings game in the afternoon, and the STAPLES Center press food is pretty awful. So I just noshed on popcorn in the press box while covering the game. Afterwards, I checked into the room and waited for people to show up.

My cousin Aaron was the first to show up bearing a load of KFC. I did have a chicken breast and a biscuit. Then as people came in and brought in food and booze, I picked here and there but mostly headed for the booze. And more booze. And more booze.

By 1 a.m. I was completely trashed, the room spinning. I did go to the bathroom a couple of times to throw up in hopes of preventing a hangover. Eventually I settled on the bed passed out while a newly hooked up couple were on the couch fucking – yes a couple not involving me were fucking in my room on my birthday. Just great.

In the morning I wake up feeling really shitty. I really can’t move so I get room service coffee. Everyone left and I threw up a couple more times. I eventually left the room, got some food and recovered from my hangover.

I had a trick come over and we had sex. I had forgot my contacts so trying to fuck someone when you can’t really see the target well made for some pretty funny times. But at least I had the sex that I needed. Slept, had a late checkout and covered a Dodgers preseason game that Monday.

It was a fun time, and I really wished I did that earlier.

17 years ago Kurt Cobain put a shotgun to his head and pulled the trigger. While not the saddest thing to happen in my 15-year life up to that point, it was deeply affecting nonetheless.

Originally published on LAist on April 3, 2011.

Men are known to keep their underwear way past its expiration date. Until the darn thing disintegrates in the wash we will keep it in our rotation, holes and frayed elastic be damned. Well someone in the Giants’ clubhouse should alert right fielder Aubrey Huff that his magical red thong that mysteriously propelled the Giants to their World Series Championship last season has outlived its usefulness as evidenced by the Dodgers’ 7-5 victory over the Giants.

It started in the first inning after Rafael Furcal blooped a single into shallow centerfield to lead off. Huff lost Jamey Carroll’s line drive in the shadows. Once he caught sight of the ball and dove for it, it skipped past him and dribbled out towards the Giants’ bullpen. By the time Huff reached that ball at the edge of the warning track, Furcal had scored and Carroll was standing as safe as can be at third base.

Carroll didn’t think it was a triple coming off his bat, “but when I saw it get by him, I saw I had time to run the bases.”

Huff’s blunder can be forgiven since both runners would have scored anyway after Matt Kemp took starter Barry Zito’s 84 mph fastball offering half way into the Dodger bullpen for the 3-0 lead.

But in the seventh inning after the Giants had tied the game up 3-3, Huff could do no right.

After James Loney led off the inning with an opposite-field single off of reliever Dan Runzler (L, 0-1) and Rod Barajas struck out, Marcus Thames hit a long fly ball to right-centerfield. Huff turned once, twice, back around and every which way and still had the ball sail over his head. Yet again no error was given. Yet again the Dodgers got a triple. Yet again a run scored.

“I hit it good,” Thames said. “I was just glad to get it past the infield.”

While that would have been poetic enough as it was, pinch hitter Aaron Miles hit an RBI single towards Huff. And Furcal hit an RBI double towards Huff. And after Runzler was replaced with Sergio Romo, Andre Ethier hit an RBI single towards Huff.

“It just happened that way,” Carroll said of the “coincidental” targeting of Huff.

Four runs, five hits and the Dodgers standing pretty leading 7-3.

The Giants battled back in the second inning with Pablo Sandoval’s solo homer, three two-out singles leading to one run in the sixth and Pat Burrell’s solo shot in the seventh – all off of Dodgers’ starter Hiroki Kuroda (W, 1-0).

And after the Huff-plosion, they got back a run in the eighth inning with Brandon Belt walking with the bases loaded off of reliever Matt Guerrier and an Aaron Rowand’s pinch-hit solo homer off of closer Jonathan Broxton to lead off the ninth inning.

“You’ve got to go after them and get quick outs,” Broxton said unfazed by the homer.

Catcher Rod Barajas was equally unfazed.

“I think he’s fine,” he said. “His role is to close games out. He’s 3-for-3 this year. It doesn’t matter how he gets it done.”

While many of the 50,896 at Dodger Stadium could have used new underwear by the time he was done, the fact remains that Broxton did get it done with Buster Posey grounding to shortstop for his third save in as many chances (his 6.00 ERA notwithstanding.)

The MVP of this game for the Dodgers beyond Huff has to be the Dodgers’ promotions department who wisely scheduled the Snuggie night (or, the Dodger Sleeved Blanket due to intellectual property issues.) In front of the national ESPN2 cameras, it made it seem like an actual Dodger game in stark contrast to Saturday afternoon’s game where chants of “Beat L.A.” drowned out the few Dodger fans who remained.