Geeking Out To The Baseball Rulebook Again

Here's a seemingly normal play from yesterday's Oriole game which ended up being quite bizarre:

Catcher Ramon Hernandez hit a sinking liner to center field that Grady Sizemore dived for and caught. Nick Markakis, the runner at third, tagged up and came home.

Miguel Tejada, the Orioles' runner at first, admittedly forgot how many outs there were and thought that the ball had dropped anyway, so he took off around second base. Sizemore threw to first base, where Ryan Garko stepped on the bag and the final out of the inning was recorded. Plate umpire Marvin also signaled that the run at home did not count, keeping the score at 2-1.

No big deal, right? Well, according to Rule 4.09, the run should count because it is not actually a force play at first. The runner touched home before the force, therefore the run counts. So the umpire made a bad call and life moves on. Well, that's not what happened. The umpries decided to make the correct call 3 and half innings later, adding the run retroactivetly. And I don't even need to interpret Rule 4.09 because the Official Comment deals with this exact situation:

Approved Ruling: One out, Jones on third, Smith on first, and Brown flies out to right field. Two outs. Jones tags up and scores after the catch. Smith attempted to return to first but the right fielder’s throw beat him to the base. three outs. But Jones scored before the throw to catch Smith reached first base, hence Jones’ run counts. It was not a force play.

Now, I like that the umps got the call right. But three innings later? Isn't there some sort of statute of limitation for getting the call right? Does that mean I can get Rich Garcia's refusal to call fan interference on Jeffrey Maier overruled? Well, actually, I can't, because Rule 9.05 imposes a 12 hour time limit for review. But that's for protests and such. What about actually changing a call in the game? I've never heard of that before, and I can't find a rule which specifically addresses it. Here's Rule 9.02:

(a) Any umpire’s decision which involves judgment, such as, but not limited to, whether a batted ball is fair or foul, whether a pitch is a strike or a ball, or whether a runner is safe or out, is final. No player, manager, coach or substitute shall object to any such judgment decisions.

(b) If there is reasonable doubt that any umpire’s decision may be in conflict with the rules, the manager may appeal the decision and ask that a correct ruling be made. Such appeal shall be made only to the umpire who made the protested decision.


Yet no time period is specified. But it is assumed in the rules that the appeal happens right away. That's how the appeal works. The plate umpire points to first to ask if the batter checked his swing. The manager asks the pitcher to throw the ball to second to appeal that the runner did not touch the base. Three innings later? It's not in the rules, but here is a guidleline in the general comments:

You no doubt are going to make mistakes, but never attempt to “even up” after having made one. Make all decisions as you see them and forget which is the home or visiting club.

I'm not complaing because the umpire made a call that eventually would benefit my beloved Orioles. They would win the game 7-4, so that one run didn't matter all that much. But in the interest of being fair, the call was wrong. The original failure to call Rule 4.09 was incorrect and then adding the run three innings later runs counter to the intent of Rule 9.02. Two wrongs don't make a right. The umpires screwed up, and if the Indians protest of this game should prevail. They got screwed.

Wow, a little bit of karma went the Orioles way. I don't know what to do about that. And I think there is a good reason why I should not be allowed to read the baseball rulebook. And its probably a good thing the NFL won't release theirs to the public.

Invitation to Pick Crabs

The invitation came in the mail yesterday. My brother is getting married at the end of June and I'm pretty excited about it. It should be a pretty cool wedding. It's gonna be on the Chesapeake Bay, so it should be beautiful. And they are gonna do things like hire the DJ from the club when they first met, so it should be pretty cool as well.

But I'm excited about the crab feast. Instead of formal rehearsal dinner, we're going to be good Marylanders and just eat bushels of crabs. I had a thirty-minute argument with my mom this morning on whether it is better to serve cream of crab soup or crab soup. These things matter. Crab soup is better, by the way.

Oh, even better. I get to emcee the reception. Giving me a microphone... rarely a good idea.

Winding Down

I can just taste the end of this quarter. It tastes remarkably like beer. Or maybe scotch.

Probably both.

One to Go

Well, it seems I have made it through Wednesday. I think in every Finals week, you have that one day that kicks you in the shins and rubs dirt in your eyes. Today was that day. I now know why Prof. Secured Transactions (who most of you know as the new Prof. Contracts) left for England before today. It's so we wouldn't find him and kill him. It's not that the exam was unfair, but it certainly wasn't fun. and it was long. I tend to be fairly brief and to the point on exams. I wrote 24 pages. Then my arm fell off. That can't be a good sign.

I still would recommend the class, but I would also say you should type the exam. I think I developed arthritis by the time that monster was over. Though I did get to ask Niti what she got for number two in the hall (only slightly funny. The exam only had three questions, and question two was four pages and took over 90 minutes).

Anyway, I gave my sermon for Osler and think it went well. Actually, he's indicating on his blog it went well, so I'm not just guessing. His only criticism is that I got angry about halfway through and said no one can keep up being angry for five minutes. Afterwards, my friends confirmed that he is way off base on that one, and by my rather lenient standards, I was almost calm. I can rant incoherently for hours. with venom. Just give me a shot of tequila.

I would like to thank my coach, a random duck from the River Brazos. I practiced my speech on the dock, and this duck got it in his head that I was some sort of authority figure. He followed me around for about an hour, even going slightly crazy when I went back inside to study. I am like Snow White, small woodland creatures just follow me around. I guess he liked the speech, too.

Out of Interesting Topics. Move Along.

I feel the need to be an active blogger during Finals Week. I know you guys* don't want to study, and I'm here to provide at least five good minutes of goofing off before you feel bad about yourself, have another donut, feel even worse about yourself, and then get back to work.

But I'm really running out of things to say. I'm open to topics at this point. Praise and I talked about baseball for about three hours last night while watching a hockey game. The Stars lost, by the way, to a team that was wearing jerseys which looked suspiciously like the old Hartford Whalers jerseys with a different logo.





Actually, go over to Praise's blog and read about his car accident. You think the WJC was kidding when he said insurance companies make money by denying claims? He's not. Praise is reaching the boiling point and is now talking about taking them to court "on general principle". His blog has given a comprehensive picture of how badly an insurance company will try to screw you. But he did leave off the details of the police report, my personal favorite little tidbit of the whole story. Some minor errors on the police report:

- According to the report, Praise was driving a train
- However, it did correctly note he was not wearing a helmet
- Apparently, in this cop's world, I-35 runs east-west
- Praise's sex is "7"

* As Prof CrimLaw would say, I mean "guys" in the Midwestern gender neutral sense

:-)

The Apocalypse is upon us. There is a National Texting Championship, held in New York City. Inevitably, it was won by a 13-year old girl. I honestly don't have a joke here.



I knew the runner-up was doomed when she answered the question on how she would spend her winnings with, "I'll use it for law school." That was the kiss of death. The 13-year-old girl, of course, said she would spend the $25,000 prize money on "shopping."

I think she was a far more deserving winner.

I Think I Shall Never See A Tree...

Today is Earth day. no, really. You can look it up. Oh, how the time flies... I remember last Earth Day when we all got together and keyed SUV's in a fit of eco-terrorism. Wait, that didn't actually happen.

Baylor Law is doing their part to reduce, recycle, and reuse by leaving out the food from yesterday. Do your part by attempting to eat a day old bagel which has been left out. We do what we can to make this a happier, healthier earth. So when you're trying to eat that stale donut, thank the SBA for caring so much about the environment. We also plan on running out of paper products this week to keep up the conservation theme. You're welcome.

Thank You For Smoking

One of the those things that is only entertaining because it's finals:

Ryan has decided to take up smoking. For no reason, he just decided it was time for him to pick up a bad habit. This was after deciding to start drinking earlier this quarter. I think the two sort of go hand in hand, but that's the old Philip Morris employee in me, despite the fact I've never smoked cigarette.*

Anyway, Matt thinks is a terrible decision. He's giving Ryan regular lectures on what a bad habit smoking is and how cigarettes are going to kill him. I throw in, "Face it. Cigarettes are cool." But that's the Philip Morris talking. Matt's gone as far as stealing Ryan's cigarettes to make sure he doesn't smoke them.

What makes this funny to me is that Matt smokes. A lot. In his kitchen, he has cartons of cigarettes lying around. Yet he's leading the campaign against Ryan smoking.

*NOTE FROM MANAGEMENT: Absolutely true. I have not smoked one single cigarette in my entire life. I'll smoke cigars on occasion, but I have never smoked a cigarette. And when I worked for Philip Morris, we got a free pack a day. My friends appreciated it, as I gave them out freely. So, it really is true. Drug dealers don't use their own product.

One Fish, Two Fish

A buddy of mine sent me a link to Dr. Seuss' old political cartoons he drew for PM Magazine. It's strange to think of Dr. Seuss as anything but an author of children's books, but he was a political cartoonist before he penned Green Eggs and Ham. It's a pretty neat site, and a good way to avoid studying for a few minutes.

I would like to post another Dr. Seuss link, but I can't. Well, I can post the link, but there's nothing there anymore. It used to be "Dylan Hears a Who", and it was a Bob Dylan imitator singing "Green Eggs and Ham". And it was funny. But, the estate of Dr. Seuss threatened suit and the proprietor of the site took it down.

I know why the Seusses sued (say that ten times fast), but this is my real problem with copyright law. It stifles creativity. Someone thought of a funny joke, posted it on the internet for free with no intention of making a profit, and they get slapped by a lawyer. This is the way copyright law works, but this is not it's intent. No person clicked on the site and thought Dr. Seuss had anything to do with it (the Bob Dylan impression was top notch though) and the only reason the joke worked is because we all know Dr. Seuss' "Green Eggs And Ham". It didn't cost the Seuss estate a cent, but if they want to protect their copyright against people legitimately ripping them off, they have to go after the internet site.

It's a stupid system. And it's not doing what it is supposed to be doing, which is encouraging artists and inventors to come up with new ideas.

Free Pancakes!

So, the faculty served us breakfast foods last night. Which is pretty darn cool, though I really don't trust what Prof. FedCourts put in the hash browns. He's kind of shifty at times. It's a nice way to kick off finals and we here at Poseur HQ salute the faculty who showed up and served us food. I hope this is one of those traditions that stick around. But so far, so good.

However, where was this man?


Is Prof. Osler too good to hang out with the student body? Does he like his Lego friends more than he likes us? Does he think serving pancakes is beneath him? I leave the answers to you, dear reader, as well as this more pertinent question:

Is it really a good idea for me to make fun of a professor who controls my grade in a class this quarter?

I'm putting myself on the line for the student body here at BLS. I will not rest until we find out why Osler thinks we are not worthy of his omelette-making skills.

Repo Men

Prof. Hippie made a reference to Repo Man in class today. This is just a few weeks after referencing Iggy Pop in class. Who knew that secured transactions is inspired by punk rock? And, considering Iggy Pop did the theme song for Repo Man, it all comes full circle.* I also think that our resident hippie is a closet punk rocker. I'm gonna go through his office and look for old Descendents albums.

The movie is a cult classic. Go rent it for some cheap laughs and the secret to those pine tree air fresheners ("There's one in every car. You'll see."). Just some of my favorite quotes, some of which are relevent to secured transactions:

"Credit is a sacred trust, it's what our free society is founded on. Do you think they give a damn about their bills in Russia?"

"A repo man spends his life getting into tense situations."

"Only an asshole gets killed for a car."

And something I can see our professor saying...

"A lot of people don't realize what's really going on. They view life as a bunch of unconnected incidents and things. They don't realize that there's this, like, lattice of coincidence that lays on top of everything. Give you an example, show you what I mean: suppose you're thinking about a plate of shrimp. Suddenly someone'll say, like, plate, or shrimp, or plate of shrimp out of the blue, no explanation. No point in looking for one, either. It's all part of a cosmic unconciousness."

Or, maybe I'm studying too much.


*Random Trivia Note: The soundtrack is a punk rock classic. Aside from Iggy Pop, there's Black Flag, Iggy Pop, Fear, the Plugz, the Circle Jerks, and that famed punk rock group, the Andrews Sisters.

Virginia Tech Shootings

My brother went to Virginia Tech. So did a lot of my friends. I've been on the campus a countless number of times for a countless number of reasons. I've had the good fortune to charge their basketball court and their football field. I've partied in their frat houses, stayed in their dorms, and even sat in on a few classes. I feel a certain kinship with the Hokies, even though I never went to school there. It's a beautiful campus nestled in the Appalachian Mountains and I know firsthand how easy it is to fall in love with Blacksburg.

So I really don't know what to say about all of this.

32 dead? At least 24 more injured? The worst instance of school violence in our country's history, and it took place right by the Drill Field. I know where that is. I recognize those buildings.

I'm too old to know anyone who still goes to VT. But I imagine those kids are just like my brother, just like my friends who went there. I wish I had something profound to say. I wish I had the words. But I don't. It's just so sad. And I'm just so angry.

The same day I'm on here talking about how great it is that a baby has her whole life ahead of her, at least 32 kids just had their lives cut short. They thought they had their whole lives ahead of them. They were making plans for the future, preparing for life. Dreaming about what they were going to be. And that's all gone now. The shooter is dead. 32 people are dead. 24 more are injured. Why do these things happen? Life isn't fair. They had their whole lives ahead of them...

Who the fuck shoots anyone in Blacksburg?

Weclome to the World

I swear I was studying this weekend. I had my CivLib notes out, and I was going through all of the different tests for public fora when I got the phone call: a chance to meet Anna Lucia. And that was the end of the studying.



Now, there are several things going on that photo. Yes, I am holding a baby. Yes, I am also holding a glass of scotch. And most disturbingly, it was Anna Lucia's dad who gave both of those things to me. Other than that lapse in judgement, I'm sure he'll be a wonderful dad.

I love babies. Particularly other people's babies, because I am not responsible for their well-being. But Anna Lucia was just so small and so cute, and she has her whole life ahead of her. Literally. It's hard not to be in awe of that. Why would you try not to be? I also respect her dedication to eating and sleeping, two of my favorite things in the world.

It's just that she is completely dependent on other people. Anna Lucia can't even feed herself, yet she will be absolutely adored and taken care of by her parents. And there's nothing in the world they wouldn't do for her. It makes me happy to know that there is a new person in the world surrounded by so much love.

Besides, when I talk to her, Matt says I sound like Bert from Sesame Street.

Cheating On Your First Love

Being an Orioles fan is rather depressing. A few years ago, Baseball Prospectus compared being an Oriole fan to being tied to a chair and allowing someone to hit you in the head with a hammer repeatedly. And things haven’t improved much since then.

So I’m thinking of adopting a backup NL team. I don’t go into this lightly, and I’m just trying to get a team that won’t depress the hell out of me. The Orioles are still my first love, but I just need another team to follow in addition to my Birds. So, let’s run through the possibilities:

Atlanta Braves
Yeah, like I’m gonna start rooting for them AFTER they stop winning the division every year. I didn’t get to be there for the good seasons, I’m not gonna sign up for the long slide into mediocrity.

Florida Marlins
They sell the team off for parts every five years, but those fire sales tend to work out well for the Fish. Their owner might be the only owner more evil than Peter Angelos so I’m not trading up. And then there’s the problem with the teal.

New York Mets
The day I root for a New York team is the same day the Godfather shows up at my house and leaves a horse’s head in my bed.

Philadelphia Phillies
This season, they will become the first team in professional sports to lose 10,000 games, not counting the New Jersey Generals, a team which exists to lose to the Globetrotters. Honestly, this is the worst franchise in the history of sports. The point of this exercise is to take my mind off the suffering, not adding to it. Phillies fans are the most bitter fans on the planet for good reason. I’d fit in well with them, though.

Washington Nationals
My brother roots for them. Automatic disqualification.

Chicago Cubs
Too trendy. But there is the bonus of not having to care if they win.

Cincinnati Reds
As tempting as it is to follow the Annual Ken Griffey Jr Injury Watch, I think I’ll have to pass.

Houston Astros
The O’s made one of the worst trades in MLB history with the Astros: an injury-riddled Glen Davis for Steve Finley, Pete Harnisch, AND Curt Schilling. That worked out well, and is perhaps the moment the O’s became a bad franchise. There isn’t a chance in hell I’m rooting for the Astros. In our defense, the Astros promptly traded Schilling and Finley, keeping only Harnisch. So it’s not like they had brain surgeons running their team either. They managed to trade a guy with less a 1000 at bats left in his career for three All-Stars (one of whom is a borderline Hall of Famer) and still sucked. Rooting for the Astros must be like rooting for the Orioles, only without the memories of winning things. You poor bastards.

Milwaukee Brewers
I like beer. The sausage race is pretty funny. Bob Uecker announces their games. They have lots of good, young talent. But this is the Brewers. They’ll find a way to screw this up. And do I want to root for a team that was owned by Bud Selig?

Pittsburgh Pirates
The 1979 “We Are Family” World Series is the worst moment of my childhood, and not just because of the truly hideous uniforms. The Pirates can go suck a gas pipe. I hope they lose every game. Willie Stargell was a communist.

St. Louis Cardinals
Defending champs. Not jumping on that bandwagon.

Colorado Rockies
I could take solace in the fact my team was losing each game 8-7. I don’t need a different style of losing. Really, every style of losing starts to suck after awhile.

LA Dodgers
I would consider rooting for them just to listen to Vin Scully. But I hate all things LA. And the nickname is insulting, as it refers to dodging trains in Brooklyn. Though its still not as absurd as “Lakers” in a city without water. We need a law that requires sports franchises to change the mascot when they move, so we don’t end up with the Utah Jazz in a state without music.

San Diego Padres
No good reason to root against them. No good reason to root for them either. The blandest, most innocuous team ever. They are pretty good. This the safe team to choose, so of course I’m not going to.

San Francisco Giants
Could I get a free supply of HGH if I promised not to make fun of the size of Bonds’ head?

Arizona Diamondbacks
15 of the 25 players on their Opening Day roster were products of the minor league system. The average age of their players is 26, one of the lowest averages in the Majors. That’s a great commitment to building talent, standing in contrast to the Orioles who have a farm system that has improved from “God awful” to “almost mediocre”. The D-backs got rid of the hideous color scheme, but also ditched the best name for a ballpark ever, the BOB (now Chase Field). Still, that’s not enough reason to reject them. This is the team. They even have 7 of Baseball America’s top 100 prospects, so they should be getting better. And, most convincingly, they ended the Yankee Dynasty, so I already kind of like them. The cherry on top is the signing of Randy Johnson, whose nickname my ex-wife mangled from the Big Unit into the Big Eunuch, which is actually a ten times better nickname.

Also, the timing works out great on both a macro and a micro level (did I just say that? You should feel free to punch me in the shoulder for that sentence). On a day-to-day level, it will be nice to tune into a west coast game right after the O’s bullpen has surrendered yet another grand slam (two in the first nine games… not home runs… two grand slams… someone kill me). The D-backs’ first pitch is usually right after the O’s loss has gone final.

On another level, this is a great time to jump on the D-backs bandwagon. They just introduced the new uni’s and are making a big push to rebrand the franchise, even dubbing the youth movement, inevitably, the Baby Backs. Now, normally this sort of marketing push would make me gag, but I’m okay with it for this reason: have you ever met an obsessive D-backs fan? Seriously, these people need all of the fans they can get. And with me, they will get the sort of fan who will obsess not only over every game, but their entire minor league system. I’m already wondering why they are carrying 13 pitchers on the 25-man roster, three catchers and three outfielders. That’s right, while they have no backup outfielder, my new adopted team thinks it’s important to have two backup catchers, in case the first one can’t perform his duties of carrying the Big Eunuch’s golf bag. I already feel the ulcer forming.

So, I’m gonna give this a try. It’s time to start cheating on my first love, the Baltimore Orioles. Let’s go Snakes!

I Get All Misty Over Old Books

I was probably a freshman in high school the first time I heard of Vonnegut, and it was like being let in on a dirty little secret. Before that, fiction writers had always seemed so stale and so damned dull to me. There was the canon of English literature, and we were going to plow through all of the classics because it was good for us. Reading was something you did because your mom or your teacher forced you to, or at least it was in my house. And then I stumbled across Breakfast of Champions and I was hooked.

Maybe it was the childish drawings breaking up the text (the drawing for an asshole was particularly brilliant). Or maybe it was a cast of characters that I would soon see again and again like Eliot Rosewater and Kilgore Trout. But mainly it was that the book was so damned funny. OK, it hit on some important themes like commercialism and existentialism, but that's not what a 14-year old cares about. It was the first time literature didn't seem like Literature but as something I'd actually want to read. It was the literature of hopeful cynicism, which seems like a contradiction, but that was Vonnegut.

Vonnegut is, simply put, my favorite writer. I consider myself a richer person for having read his books. And if I had even a tenth of his talent, I certainly wouldn't be in law school. I've tried my hand at writing, and I've even churned out some things I'm proud of, but my comparing my work to his is like comparing doodles on notebook paper to the Sistine Chapel. Writing is a difficult, soul-sucking experience. Or at least it is for me. And his work always seemed so effortless. It boggles my mind, really.

His death is sad, but he has left behind his legacy, a full library of biting satire and absurdist critiques of modern life. He will not be missed because he will always be with us. In fact, this is the perfect chance for me to re-read my favorite novel, Cat's Cradle. I'll even close this post with a quote from that book, which sums up Vonnegut pretty well:

"Beware of the man who works hard to learn something, learns it, and finds himself no wiser than before... He is full of murderous resentment of people who are ignorant without having come by their ignorance the hard way."

Ah, hell, here's another, this one from Breakfast of Champions:

"New knowledge is the most valuable commodity on earth. The more truth we have to work with, the richer we become."

I can’t stop myself. I swear this is the last one. Some sage words of advice to live by, from The Sirens of Titan:

"A purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved."

Cynics are just romantics with broken hearts. Thank God someone broke Kurt Vonnegut's.

Hockey and Farewells

So long to A-Webb.

We drank some beer, had some fajitas, did some shots, and then sang some karaoke. It was a good night all the way around and one hell of a send off. After her rendition of "Lose Yourself" there was not a dry eye in the house. Britt made a good sidekick on that one, but it was the A-Webb Show.

My law buddy has dominated Baylor Law, and now she's skipping out to go back to DC and kick the hell out of Georgetown as well. I consider my law buddy duties complete, and a rousing success. Seriously, this place isn't going to be the same without her.

And I even got home in time to catch the end of the hockey game. A good night.

ESPN Takes On The Little Guy

It's rare my sports obsession crosses my interest in law, and rarer still when it involves blog culture, but we had the perfect storm this weekend.

Colin Cowherd is a nationally syndicated radio host for ESPN Radio. And he decided it would be funny if he launched a Denial of Service attack on The Big Lead, a blog critical of ESPN (like there's a sports blog NOT critical of ESPN). OK, that was generally a petty thing to do, but it also may have been illegal. For the lowdown from smarter people than me, click here.

For deadspin's less-than-politic take, click here. Kissing Suzy Kolber has been on fire as well. They have taken to calling Cowherd "schrutebag". You honestly don't want to know what that means.*

Cowherd isn't a stranger to internet controversy. He's already stolen the M-Zone's material verbatim and passed it off as his own. Which sounds like plagarism to me, but probably he's off the legal hook because it wasn't written. I don't know the law.

OK, so back to the current controversy. What is the best analogy to Cowherd's behavior? The Big Lead is a business and Cowherd used public airwaves to orchestrate an attack on that business out of pure malice. I don't think the incitement analogy holds, considering it's not an incitement to cause physical harm, it's just organizing people to disrupt a business. I think the closest analogy is that of vandalism, only he used the public airwaves to do it. And while I'm not sure if Cowherd's actions were illegal, they certainly were the actions of a schrutebag. I'm not sure it would rise to the level or a tort, because I'm having a problem getting over the conceptual hump that he owed the blog a duty of care. If there is a duty, we have breach, causation, and harm and we have the makings of a tort. But is being a jackass really a tort?

And is his speech Constitutionally protected? I don't think so. He's using public airwaves, but he's using ESPN's transmitter. They are selling his speech, so does that make it commercial speech? Even if it doesn't, I'd analogize this to the guy talking on the street corner, only with a really big megaphone. He's allowed to talk, but he can't say whatever the hell he wants, and he can't encourage people to engage in unlawful activity (if the conduct was indeed unlawful). I'll skip the whole content-neutral analysis.

Just for Cowherd being a jerk, I've bookmarked The Big Lead.


*Ed Note- I'm not kidding. I have a track record here when I tell you that you don't want to know what something means. Remember "mung"? This isn't as bad, but it's just fun to say. Colin Cowherd is a schrutebag.

People Get Checks and Fancy Certificates... Steve Politely Applauds

Not sure what to say about convocation. I wasn't exactly cleaning up the awards and I don't want to make fun of those who did get honored because, well, its pretty cool when your classmates get honored for things. Even if the ceremony was pretty boring, it doesn't take away from the fact I like to see good things happen to my fellow students. I know, its strange, but I actually like the people I hang out with. And the speaker was pretty good, a definite change from other things we've been subjected to.

Hell, there was even quality free food, the standard by which I will judge any event. The chicken wrapped in bacon was particularly good. I'm a sucker for anything wrapped in bacon. All in all, a good event. And a definite improvement over Law Day from last year.

Art and Easter

I was gonna talk about going to Six Flags for Easter and how that means I'm going to hell, only to be redeemed by a well-timed gift of a book on God. So, hold those reservations on me going to hell just yet, there are still people who care about my eternal salvation. But just assume I'm going to do what I can to make their job difficult.

But who cares about that? A buddy of mine from high school is gonna be exhibiting his photography at the Artomatic in DC. so, if you're in the neighborhood of our nation's capital, go check his stuff out. Or just go to his website.

I'll be there in spirit. Besides, I've seen his stuff, just not when it was hanging from a wall in a museum.

Snow!

April 7, 2007: It snows in Waco. There is a cold day in hell joke floating around there somewhere, but I just can't put it all together.

A&M Gets Dumped

It's good to see the Texas A&M fanbase is dealing with the loss of their head basketball coach in a reasoned and mature manner that we expect from the Aggies.

Or not.

Say what you will about Kentucky. But leave Ashley Judd out of it.

The Unreasonable Man and His Trick Knee

I've had five knee surgeries in three different hospitals in two states. I've torn every ligament I have, even the ones I had never heard of. I've also broken my kneecap and ripped cartilage, on top of the torn ligaments. I've blown out my knee playing soccer, basketball, lacrosse, volleyball, and even croquet (yes, croquet).

My knee has more parts than it originally came with. I've got a dead man's ligament in there and a surgical staple keeping my MCL attached to the bone. You can feel it if you run your hand on the inside of my knee. You could also put your hand on top of my kneecap and feel my ligaments slide over when I simply bend my knee.

I walk with a permanent limp. It took months of physical therapy to even get to that point, so I'm pretty happy with the limp. At least I can still run. It also doesn't help that one of my legs is longer than the other, or that in my good leg I've had surgery on my foot and would later tear ligaments in my foot, which my surgeon decided wasn't worth fixing. I don't remember the last time my knee didn't hurt. In fact, I don't know what I would do if it did work right. Probably go out and injure it.

A reasonable person would take this as a hint. That perhaps organized sports aren't my cup of tea and that I should take things easy or else I'm going to end up in a wheelchair. No one has ever accused me of being reasonable. When turning around first base tonight, I felt something pop in my knee. I stumbled into second base and then waited for someone to come and carry me off the field. More than anything, I'm just pissed off, particularly since I'm out of frozen peas. And I'm doing some online research on local wheelchair basketball leagues. Because I'm not going to let an inability to walk stop me from playing.

I'm a complete moron.

Zambonis and Iggy Pop

Yesterday, two of my favorite things got brought up in class: Zambonis and Iggy Pop. If we could somehow get Iggy Pop to drive a Zamboni, I’d be deliriously happy.

In high school, we used to go down to Baltimore Skipjacks games and cheer for the Zamboni driver. We did this for two reasons: Zambonis are cool and the Skipjacks sucked. The team would actually fold my first year in college, probably because it lost the loyal support of a group of high school kids cheering on the Zamboni. If only they would have given us beer.

Iggy Pop is one of the coolest people to ever live. Bates sold him short, mentioning only the stage-diving but leaving out the beating himself with the microphone until he would bleed, covering himself in peanut butter, and rolling around in broken glass. Iggy Pop was hardcore. And how could he act this way? Because Iggy Pop may have ingested more heroin than any person in the history of the world.

And while other sissy bands were singing songs about love being all you need or some other sort of nonsense, Iggy was singing songs with titles like “Your Pretty Face Is Going to Hell”, “Seek and Destroy”, and “I Wanna Be Your Dog”. He probably single-handedly invented punk rock. Well, with an assist from Richard Hell. For all of the bluster between New York and London about where did punk start, it seems pretty clear it started with one junkie in Detroit. Iggy Pop scares the hell out of me.

Baylor Law Kicks Ass. Takes Names.

I've been remiss on this one, since I've known about the victory since Sunday when Stokes called me from N'awlins: Baylor's mock trial team kicked the crap out of the rest of the country and finished in first place. It's been a bad weekend for my rooting interests (LSU, the O's, apparently the Paraguayan national soccer team), but it's worth all of those teams losing, karmically speaking, so Baylor Law can take home first place.

You guys rock. Finish up strong!

Addiction

I have a bit of a sports addiction problem. It's days like these when I really think I need some sort of professional help. You see, I'm kicking back with a Dr. Pepper watching Colombia play Paraguay in a meaningless soccer match. On Telemundo. And I don't speak a word of Spanish (which actually makes the game even more entertaining).

To review, I am watching a sport no one in Texas cares about between two countries I have no attachment to on a broadcast in a language I do not speak. Is there some sort of pill I can take?

Ooooo... hockey's on NBC. Hold off on the pills.