5 posts tagged “nerd behavior”
I'll be honest: yesterday's post was mostly filler. I was marking time and padding the archives on the way to this post - post #504, for those keeping track at home - which was to be my review of the new Old 97's record Blame It On Gravity. This confluence would have amused me. (And only me, because I hadn't planned to mention it and I highly doubt even the other Old 97's fans among us would have registered the tenuous reference without some sort of cue. Never let it be said I am not a huge nerd.) But I find today there are more pressing matters.
The last few times Built to Spill has been through town, I've bailed on the shows. I'm not proud of this. I'm not especially sorry either, but still I am not proud. That sort of behavior is mostly inexcusable regarding a beloved band. However, I don't feel it's entirely unjustified. One of the things I appreciate about Built to Spill in general and Doug Martsch in particular is their/his embrace of 1970's arena rock. But it's one thing to name-check Neil Young; it's quite another to perform twenty minute covers of "Cortez the Killer." Doug has become sort of an indie-rock guitar god - and rightly so - but I still don't care to stand through eons of wankery.
That said, there ain't nothing - and I mean nothing - that will keep me away from the 9:30 Club on September 23 of this year, when BtS is slated to perform in its entirety their masterpiece (and desert island record) Perfect From Now On. I might even consider going to Baltimore to see them the following evening. I mean, they're bringing the cellist with them on tour. I haven't seen them perform with a cellist since they opened for Superchunk at the Black Cat back in '95. And yes, I am fully aware that last sentence makes me sound at least thirty-aught-six years old.
The Commissioner of my fantasy football league is a total deadbeat. The season ended over four months ago, and I have yet to receive my prize money. Just yesterday, I received my long-overdue trophy. And my anger is only partly assuaged by the handsomeness of the award. It now occupies that slot on my bookshelf which was once filled by that totem of Karaoke excellence: Lord Ramsey's Cup. As I have reluctantly accepted the fact I will never again hoist in glory the Ramsey Cup, I guess I will just have to win this award next year (and the year after (and the year after)) in order to reaffirm to myself my excellence and my superiority over my peers. It will probably eventually be named in my honor. The Hotrod Trophy has a nice ring to it.
Third Place and shameful bronze: $60
Second Place and first loser: $100
First Place and bragging rights: Priceless
We're ninety minutes away from the start of Monday Night Football on this hectic Christmas Eve, and though the San Diego Chargers' defense has yet to play, I have the 2007 Just Us League title all but locked up. According to league by-laws, there's no way a defense can post negative points. And my opponent is all out of players, so my ever-so-slim four-point lead should hold. I owe it all to my beloved Washington Redskins. The Redskins have been my second favorite team since I moved to the Washington, DC area so many years ago. I've stuck with them - through thick and thin - in every occasion except when they have gone head-to-head with the Pittsburgh Steelers. And last night all those years of support finally paid off. In spades. I'm a humble man, so I'll be sure to refrain from mentioning to Dabysan that it was his favorite team's vaunted defense that held Adrian Peterson to just a dozen yards, securing my long overdue championship. A mere mention of such, especially as Daby lost the consolation game.... why that would be like adding insult to injury. And yinz know I'd never stoop to that level. Hail to the Redskins! Hail Victory!
We're not normally ones to gloat, but it should be mentioned that our mighty Toledo Maroons advanced to the Championship game of the Just Us League yesterday evening. And more specifically it should be mentioned that failing to advance were those teams run by Cap'n Crunch and Dabysan. Given that the fantasy game is a referendum on one's football knowledge - Daby's words, not ours - one would expect that they will therefore be deferring to us on such matters for a period of not less than one (1) year.
This was a difficult win for the Maroons, as we struggled through lingering nausea, grogginess, and general irritability throughout the evening. Frankly, we were ready to hit the sack by about eight-thirty. But true champions are measured by how they perform under duress, and we were able to dig deep within ourselves to find the resolve to stay up until the final whistle blew - just shy of midnight. That we were able also to overcome substandard performances by several of our key players speaks to our acumen as well as our fortitude. A tough foe awaits us next week in the title game, but we are approaching the match with our typical humility. We might win by only twenty points.
Shortly after last night's post went live, it occurred to me that there was no possible outcome of the game which wouldn't further piss me off. So I went to bed. And it's a good thing too, because I'm not sure I was in any state to deal with last minute heroics from (I can't believe he's going to be a) future Hall-of-Famer and crack addict Tom Brady. I would surely have hurt something and the most likely candidates were my television and myself, in that order. But then, as Rigsby mentioned, the Patriots are now primed to fall to the Steelers on Sunday.
At least the second of my worries worked out okay in the end. Despite Brady's sub-standard performance and a subsequent victory by the individual I thought I needed to lose, I managed to "slither" into the first-round bye as champion of the East End Boys division of the Just Us League. It took three tie-breakers, but the mighty Toledo Maroons will be resting next week and enjoying - I am sure - valiant efforts in defeat from both Dabysan's Fluffy Bunnies and the New England Patriots.
Though some may deride fantasy football as an excessively geekish exercise (and it most certainly is that), I enjoy it primarily because - as a fellow geek who shall remain nameless once opined - it's a referendum on one's football knowledge. And I daresay I am knowledgeable, finishing the regular season second overall last year and third this year. I love proof that I am smart. I'm not attractive and I'm not wealthy and I'm not funny, so smart is pretty much all I've got left.
