Yet another Cinderella story

I know. It’s been a while. The thing is, I discovered that to write weekly about sports required regular conversations about sports, and I became passionate enough about those conversations not to want to waste time writing of them, for that interfered with my enjoyment of the sport itself. (Which sport? Don’t pry. Even public figures, bloggers such as myself, deserve some modicum of privacy. Good lord, people.)

But, I digress. I'm logged in today to explain to you the event known as the World Series.

The World Series, for those of you who are unfamiliar, is when we (and by “we,” I mean, “us”) get the opportunity to play against the other best team in the World for a final decisive answer to the age-old sports question, “which of us deserves bragging rights, and a place in the history books?”

How does the World Series stack up against the Miss Universe pageant, you ask? Well, I’m not going to lie; it doesn’t have universal appeal, per se, but you should take solace in knowing that the entire World (from east coast to west, as well as Alaska and Hawaii) does tune in.

The best case scenario for a World Series is if a story emerges. We’d call it a “story” if the last time one of the teams was successful was the days of legwarmers and Madonna, and if they had nonetheless continued to play the sport…against all odds and with, frankly, not much reason to live…since then. Dedication to the art of sports, even when one isn’t as good at it as everyone else, is a hallmark of the event. Entire cities sometimes remain loyal to their home team for generations, even when there is no good reason to do so. See: Chicago.

Such was the case this year, the year of fourteen and two thousand, in which Kansas City* rose to prominence with an unprecedented winning streak, propelling them into the forefront of the national World imagination. Should such a thing happen, it’s best if this historically-less-good team is eventually pitted against the Goliath of the sport, so as to provide a contest of epic proportions. This sort of a “Cinderella story”—so-called because it takes place in October, the official month of pumpkins—is the dream of all of those who (like me) cover sports.

Since the World Series is best when it lasts for as long as possible, what typically happens is that the lesser team will somehow continue to battle furiously against the better team, until it all comes down to the game of sevens (seven being a lucky number greater than three) in which there is no choice but to have a victor eventually emerge at the end of the night. As in all great Cinderella stories, the lesser team will be “down one” (another sports term!, this time for the drinking game that all adherents play at home) at a critical juncture in the game and will remain in that position until they finally, goaded on by legions of fans standing in front of their televisions, overcome at the last minute to first tie the score and then, eventually, win.

I admit that there’s a certain inevitability to the structure of a Cinderella story, one that means that, as in the case of this World Series, I don’t even need to watch it to know how it ends.

I know what you’re thinking, but don’t be fooled! The founders of our great nation World built in a few miscues such as these, designed to fool schoolchildren. Kansas City is in Missouri. You're welcome.

48, baby!

Live-blogging this football game, y'all!

Let's party. I have arrived and everyone has brought food. And drink. We brought coffee-flavored beer in order to maximize our beverages.

We have all exchanged low-carb diet recommendations, the pre-requisite for all snarf-fests.

Things started with Queen Latifah singing an anthem of our nation, followe by Renee Fleming singing our national anthem. In between, the Brocos rode in on a horse and the Seahawks flew in on a hawk. 

I've learned that one of their names is Manning, Peyton and another one is named Boom, Legion Of, which is really taking sports naming to a whole new level of "you let that birth certificate through?!"

Update: Seattle is winning! One of the people is very fast! First safety to start a game except for a while back! There is a lot of screaming and quite a few checks combined with stripes for the people who are commentating.

Someone was so excited he overthrew his receiver. 

That's what SHE said.

Big play, 3rd and 9. End quote.

First down!

So far Richard Sherman has not shot his mouth off ONCE. To my knowledge.

I've decided to shortcut this thing since sports people like fewer syllables. I'm going to refer to touchdowns from now on as "downs." You heard it here first.

Since we are watching it on the west coast, we don't want any spoilers from you all on the east coast, where it's already over. #timezones

Idea: ** put your #s on the tops of your helmets so we can see who you are **

SEA winning so far.

Group at large, "BAM!"

Three people are wearing orange.

I'd think they were Bronco fans, but they're all red-orange now, so it's hard to tell.

It's not a party without jalapeño potatoes.

High throw! That's funny because...well, you know.

I want to know the correlation between hair length and success. Dreads=what? 

An orange player just pushed someone else. I'm writing him up!

I was gone for a bit!

Seahawks are still winning, and I had more potatoes, and this-just-in: David Beckham plays the other kind of football and wears underwear! Yes, please!

That Coke commercial. Gorgeous.

Three Thomases!

SEA still winning.

All cities should go by their airport codes. Just learned that Denver's OLD airport WAS DEN. Intriguing.

Dear #28: balls are for catching.

I love the Muppets!

SO MANY CAR ADS.

And now, Jeep. 

Well. Half-time thoughts:

I apparently heart Bruno Mars quite a bit. I thought he absolutely nailed it.

And there should always be a man performing. He managed to stay fully-clothed the whole time! 

*concept!!*

Speaking of, that was a highly fun segue into the RHCP. Not to brag, but I saw them live. At the Dalai Lama. Damn STRAIGHT! 

Well, the military bit made me cry like a girl. I don't know how they do it.

Everybody stay hydrated. We are only halfway there.

That is some exciting football! A guy just took the ball all the way from one end to the other! Boom!

Denver's like, all, OH! ARE WE PLAYING NOW?

Football gets sleepy, this time of game. Note to self: coffee beer acts less like coffee than you would think.

People are still winning. I still have an awesome group of friends.

Seattle scores AGAIN. That's a lotta points.

Well, well, well. They've got to start somewhere. Amirite?

Well, if the commercials don't make me cry, they're not even trying.

I ate more food and visited and the same people ultimately won! Kudos, lime-green-accents! 

#Esurancesave30 ftw!

super predictions

This morning's transcript:

Bill: Big games today!

Me: Oh, my. Are you ready? 

(Subtext: Have you been practicing?)

Bill: So, who do you pick for the Super Bowl?

Me: Well, what are my choices?

Bill: Well, there's New England at Denver and San Francisco at Seattle.

Me: ok...

Bill: (something I can't remember about two quarterbacks)

Me: Right. And John Elway is NOT playing, you say? 

(Subtext: I would have voted for him.)

Bill: Well, no. By virtue of having been retired for ten years, he is not going to play. He's going to sit this one out.

Me: OK, which of those guys did I feel like looked less full of himself?

Bill: You said that about Peyton Manning. 

(Subtext: I disagree with your choice.)

Me: And who is he with?

Bill: (sighs) Denver.

Me: Well then, I think Denver vs. Seattle.

Gamblers: take your places! There will be TV on today!

My First Basketball Game

6:48: It is ON, my friends. I have successfully located my sports-savvy friends, passed through security, found the escalator (harder than you would think), and am safely settled in a Box. In sports, that's a good thing: you get your own bathroom, coat hangers, and non-manned bar. Plus extra seats and a delightful view. Also, seemingly a soundtrack. I have only been to a few sporting events, but that is one of the more surprising things: pop music...constantly. And lights. If I were prone to strokes, I'd find sports to be a challenge. Now, let's see if the wifi is working.

6:58 Sports also has trucks! Or, one truck. And it FLIES!!! It's like Harry Potter up in here.

7:00 Game Ball Delivery is a thing. The ball is delivered from Muggle to Muggle, escorted by a scantily-clad lass.

7:04 We begin, as all basketball games do, with dimmed lights and the muted (seriously) sound of trombones playing the national anthem.

7:15, sorry, delay. Just got some amazing news having to do with a different sport, so was sidetracked.

We are losing.

7:34 First quarter is over and we are still losing. One of my sports savvy friends suggested I take notes and blog at breaks so as to more fully experience. So I dropped a book on his head. (Seriously, but it was accidental.) oops.

My thoughts to date:

No irony in those mini slo-mo movies of the players, huh?

Why is the mascot a wildcat instead of Lewis & Clark?

BlazerDancers. All around the video-ring^tm. Are they real? Is it a video? More research on this is needed. I sensed no irony, so probably a video.

Someone has a sign that loudly proclaims LUNCH MEAT. Why?

There are 4 12-min quarters, so we should be all done 36 minutes from now, eh?

7:51 Time-out, Portland!

That's not enough time in which to update.

Half-time, so time to write up thoughts from the second quarter.

We are not winning, which surprised me because I think we are very good. Bill said there is a famous quote about this, which is, "That's why they play the game." (Source unknown)

Where is the ice? Last time I was here they were playing hockey.

There's another famous sports quote that even I knew: "The taller they are, the harder they fall."

That quote is about basketball. Ouch, man from Philadelphia.

There are binoculars attached to the seats! I thought one of my friends just brought his own!

Inflatable cats came out to dance: I kid you not. Will update with pics when I have a stronger signal.

Basketball players as a whole have more hair than I expected.

Mo Williams is NOT the same person as Mo Willems. I know who Mo Willems is; Bill knows who Mo Williams is.

They are selling red aprons. For those who want to blaze a new trail in the kitchen. I should write marketing copy for sports. (Call me.)

Halftime: extended dancing by dedicated and practiced audience members. I'm curious about this phenomenon. 

And why no BlazerDancers at halftime? In football that's when the SCLs make their appearance. Here they are just on the video-ring. I think they are CGI'ed.

8:48 Third quarter over. I admit to missing most of it because I got the chance to talk to someone I never see and absolutely adore, so she and I squeeed at each other for a long while. I am NOT bad luck when I'm not paying attention, as evidenced by the current score: 78-75, us.

BlazerDancers came out after the third quarter (they read my blog) and they are WEARING LESS now. Bill said to wait and see what happens if we go into extra innings.

9:07 Well, I payed attention and we are losing again. I'm so sorry, Portland. 

However, the Dancers put on their skirts again. Maybe they put in more clothes when we are losing, as a mourning process?

Update: Bill answered this for me. Those girls with the skirts are the stunt team, not the Dancers. Silly kids, skirts are for stunts!

9:12 I'm not judging here, but the screen spells "defense," "d-fense," so...

9:14 TIED!

9:15 The board is spelling it right now. My readership is HUGE.

9:17 I have tested this and I am super bad luck when I pay attention. I am no longer watching. This is for your safety. 1:16 remaining 

22.5 remaining. I peeked out of one eye and we are down one.

I stood up and now we are down 4. You know how people say, "Everytime you ____, _____ kills a ______?" Well, everyone time Kelley pays attention, the opposing team kills the Blazers."

9:37 We lost: chalupa minus one to chalupa plus one. Sad emoticon.

words used wrong, part the first

I know, I know! I went away! I'm really sorry. I blame it on Thanksgiving, during which THERE IS FOOTBALL. I don't know if you knew this, but I went for 39 years part actually-not-knowing-that and part actually-forgetting-that-I-had-learned that, so when I actually experienced it for real it took a little time to sink in.

Like, all day, there are games.

{shakes head in confusion}


But then I had to come back, if only to warm up my typing muscles for My First Basketball Game. It is going to be Philadelphia against someone! And I'm in Portland, so that someone is the Blazers! Which is short for the "Trail Blazers," which I am very much hoping is the name of the team because Lewis & Clark blazed a trail back in the day. Philadelphia's team, Google tells me, is called the 76ers, which I assume is short for the "1776ers" because Philadelphia is (understandably) a little focused on our national identity. I used to work catty-corner from the Liberty Bell and across the street from Independence Hall, so I know these things.

In other words, it's the battle of two Historically Relevant Shortened names! It's gonna get REAL.
And I may live-blog it, if technology stays in my court (ha! court!), so...stay tuned. That's tomorrow night.

But today I want to talk about sporting terms I have been apparently misusing* for my entire adult life. I'm going to take the liberty of assuming that it's going to be a series.

1. I've just today learned that one does not "pitch-hit" for someone else. One "pinch-hits."
   First of all, I find that impossible to say or type; I've just mis-typed it four times as "pinch-hints." (That's what you do when the seasoning is off in your hostess' meal.)
   But more importantly, "pitch" is both a sportier term than "pinch" and also MAKES SENSE, given that what one hits IS a pitch. Not a pinch. (Unless you're me and my little brother.)
   
   This led me to wonder what other terms I've probably used incorrectly. The first that came to mind are as follows:
   
2. "Drat! Foiled again!" I've historically said this while twirling my waxed mustache to indicate that my evil plan has been thwarted, when, upon further reflection, it is obviously a fencing reference. As in, "Drat! Someone hit me with an epee!**"
3. "Batter up!" In my house, this is borrowed from diner/grandmother parlance to indicate that we're ready to make the pancakes if you're ready to eat the pancakes. When in fact, for the sporting types among us, it means that someone in baseball is ready to raise their "bat" "up."*** 
4. "Walk." Where I grew up (full disclosure: Albuquerque), this was something one did to one's dog. Where sports fans grew up, it was yet another baseball term. 
5. I think this post is mostly about baseball. That was inadvertent!
6. Dammit. That ^ wasn't actually a word I used incorrectly. It was really just a sidenote. Now you're going to think I misused five terms when in fact it was only four, so far.
7. SHIT.
8. Everybody stay calm. I'm going to just go ahead and list four other terms here, right now, and then we'll be caught up, so that when I start the next series at #9 it will be accurate. Gosh.
   Sports writing is really challenging.
   Luckily, all I need to do is Google "sports terms" to get this ball rolling. (Don't even get me STARTED on how almost all male-dominated sports are played with at least one "ball.")
   a) I take a "cue" either on stage or when it turns out that I've accidentally bothered someone and can only tell because of subtle body language, when in fact, the word refers to a long stick one uses to poke balls in pool/billiards.
   b) "Cricket" is something I feed to my daughter's gecko, when in fact, it is also a game that uses mostly baseball terminology but is played with English accents.
   c) "Garbage time," is what happens in the evening on Thursdays when my alarm dings to remind me to take out the trash before the trashmen come early Friday. BUT, like all words I use, it turns out to have a sports meaning. Research indicates that, in fact, it is to a sporting event what "lame duck" is to a presidency...the time when the outcome of the game has already been decided and continuing to show up is really just something you do because everyone expects it. (In sports, you put in your worst players. In politics, you keep everyone right where they are.)
   d) At my house, a "time-out" is what happens when a small child did something very, very bad. If said child continues to misbehave, she may then suffer a "penalty," which is a loss of a privilege. In sports, they give you a pass on that first one (a "time-out" does not mean anything has been done wrong...just that you'd like your sports fans to get to bed a little later) and go directly to the "penalty," which is usually something along the lines of not getting to play anymore. Actually, now that I think about it, that's also usually what happens to my daughter. 

There we go! Whew! I think we're caught up. See you here tomorrow for the live-blogging of what I'm sure is going to be a fabulous game played by very tall men during which I will be escorted by three extremely patient grown-ups who know more about sports than I do. 

*Sometimes I also talk about sports terms that have been misused. In this case, I think the onus is on me.

**Which I've historically mispelled in my head as "epi," as in, "Did you put peanuts in this? Better go get his epee-pen."
***Shush. I don't want to hear it. I think this is a perfectly valid interpretation.

athletic personality quiz

What kind of athlete are YOU? Here's an easy six-question personality quiz to help you decide.
Which of these best describes you?

1. To celebrate something exciting, I:
   a) high-five, do a dance, fist/chest-bump, or pat a friend on the bottom.
   b) pump my fist in the air or clench my fist and sharply bring it towards my knee.
   c) clean house.
2. When things go wrong, I:
   a) call a time-out.
   b) blame myself.
   c) clean house.
3. Nothing gets my blood pumping like:
   a) a good hazing.
   b) alone-time.
   c) a tall Americano, no room for cream.
4. When all else fails, I:
   a) turn on the TV and hang with my buddies.
   b) put in the ol' earbuds and go for a run.
   c) nap.
5. My biggest fear is:
   a) looking like an idiot on national television.
   b) getting out of shape.
   c) going to a college game because I've heard that they don't. serve. beer. BARBARIC. Why else would one attend?
6. My fashion sense can best be described as:
   a) Padding. It never goes out of style.
   b) Lycra. Sexy, yet functional.
   c) Sweatpants, only because they frown on my being naked in public.

Now, it's time to tally up those scores! If you've answered mostly:

a)s: Congratulations! You're a team player! Feel free to test your skills at football, basketball, baseball, or hockey. (Possibly others: I'm still learning.)
b)s: Congratulations in a completely different way! You're a true individual. Please don't play with others, or, if you must, please don't play with more than one person. I recommend tennis, ice-skating, golf, swimming, or possibly other sports in which YOU can be the star.
c)s: No, seriously, CONGRATULATIONS! You're qualified to write a sports blog!

the basics of golf

I spent the night in lovely Klamath Falls, OR, for work, where my hotel room offered a view of a golf course. If tennis is where the pretty people go to play sports, golf is where the rich people go.

Luckily, Klamath Falls appears to be largely uninhabited, so you can get a view of a golf course for only $95 per night, which as any traveling salesperson will tell you, is a deal and a half. Take that, rich people! I'm all UP in your game.

**sidebar: That's called "trash talking." In sports, that's what you do to sound bad-ass when you're short on limited syllables. "Trash talking" should include emphasis for additional attitude, as I've indicated with all-caps above.**

So, golf is a sport! I've been researching this for you.

As any rich person knows, it's important to make sure that you have hired other people to do your activity; that's how you know you're rich. In golf, the activities to choose from are: staring hard into the distance, swinging a metal pole, carrying said metal pole, and walking. Most rich people contract out at least one of those activities...typically the carrying of the poles, which is done by a younger and/or less-well-off person, termed a "caddie."

(Typically a "caddie" is not actually a "cad." That role is saved for the actual golfer. I know. This can be really hard to understand. You might want to print this out.)

Golfers will also use additional resources to avoid the last activity mentioned: walking. It's replaced with sitting, in a motorized cart.

**sidebar: If you want to be good at sports, regardless of your socio-economic class, it's important to practice sitting. Most players sit at some point or another: in golf, it is on a moving vehicle, but in other sports it's typically on an aptly named "bench."**

In golf, the pole is called a "club," because cavemen carried clubs, and this is the modern equivalent. I know that sounds really manly, and it is, which is why women who play golf are not to be messed with. If you see a woman playing golf who does not appear to be aware of the club's original purpose, it is a dead-giveaway that she is a-hunting (that term, "club, is appropriate in this context, too!) for a rich mate.

Golf is rife with complexities, including that a golf "pro" is actually NOT a professional golfer. Again, I know: SO COMPLICATED. But that's why I'm here. To help.