Never thought I’d ever see NBA Champion Denver Nuggets

Originally, when I thought about writing about the Denver Nuggets, it was contingent that they actually won the NBA Championship before anything would be written about them.  I was going to write about being a millennial and seeing the strange sensation of seeing certain teams in major sports break through the wall of success and win a championship. 

But the more I did some cursory research on the history books, at least as far as being a millennial goes, MLB and the NFL doesn’t have nearly the parity as the NBA has had throughout, at least my lifetime.  Which is really strange to say about the NBA having parity, considering the seeming dynasties that have run rampant throughout my own lifetime, with the Bulls, Lakers, Spurs and Warriors all winning a ton of championships, but at the same time, the NBA has had more teams squirt through the cracks of history and win a championship, and break streaks of franchises to never be champions before.

Growing up, the NBA really was my first love as far as sports fandom went.  I was a big Knicks fan, but also a supporter of the Washington Bullets, and whenever the Knicks were bounced by the Chicago Bulls, I’d typically prefer to see them win over whoever emerged from the West.

That being said, during my own upbringing as an NBA fan, there were always certain teams that were always the doormats and/or the laughing stocks of the NBA.  The teams we never, ever wanted to play in a video game, the teams we always went ballistic whenever our favorite teams ever lost to them, if it ever happened, and the teams that were always forgotten about whenever talking about the league in general.

During this time, some of those teams were the Warriors, the Bucks, the Mavs, Cavs and of course, the Denver Nuggets.  Sure, at various points, some of those teams had some fairly successful seasons as far as win percentages go, but they were still never serious threats to win championships, usually being fodder for the Bulls, Lakers, Pistons and the Rockets.

I remember how weird it seemed when the Spurs broke through the glass ceiling and won their first championship.  I was resentful because I was a Knicks fan, and I chalked up the Spurs’ win to being a lockout shortened year, and how it shouldn’t really count.  But then they’d go on to win several more championships over the next decade, and truly cementing themselves as one of the all-time great teams.

The same could be said of when the Miami Heat broke into the upper echelon, even before LeBron James took his talents to South Beach and won two more championships, and the same was said when the Golden State Warriors not only reached the top of the mountain, they built a house on top of it, winning four championships and basically living in the NBA Finals for the better part of a decade.

However, aside from the teams that grew into dynasties, regardless of my casual, and only during the playoffs interest in the NBA, I’m always fascinated by the teams that sneak out a championship, seemingly, to me, out of nowhere.  Especially when they’re one of the teams that I grew up thinking would never, ever, in a million years, see a championship ascension, regardless that on a long enough timeline, everyone eventually has to win one of these days.

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So the A’s are finally moving, it seems

😔 : The Oakland Athletics reach a land deal in Las Vegas; all signs pointing towards officially moving the franchise after years of failing to secure any sort of stadium deal to remain in Oakland

It’s funny, the speculation that the Oakland A’s were moving has been going on for so long, it got to a point where people just stopped believing it was going to happen.  But much like the Washington Redskins finally changing their name after eons of dodging it, it appears that the Oakland A’s are officially going to be departing Oakland, and heading into the desert.

The sports fan in me reacts because it’s change and a lot of sports fans don’t like change.  But it also elicits a little bit of sadness for me as a baseball fan, because I’m a low-key fan of the A’s, in the sense that I love Moneyball, underdogs, and teams that operate like they’re small-market and have to rely on brains and guile to survive in a league where the Mets are literally spending $300 million more than they are.

Plus, in spite of all the flack and criticism the Oakland Coliseum or whatever corporate-sponsor-of-the-month-Stadium gets for being on the wrong side of the tracks, adorned with barbed wire, and dated like an original mid-century modern home, I actually really liked my experience visiting the place, and have fond memories of the ballpark as a whole.

So I’m sad to hear that the A’s are finally getting the nails lined up on their coffin, with the hammering supposedly to be finished by the start of the 2027 season.  There’s still time for those out in Oakland to soak up a few more years of Athletics baseball, but it’ll be with the underlining sadness that there are still a finite number of games left before the team packs their shit and heads to Las Vegas.

It’s actually rich that of all the parties to come out and express sadness and condolences for the eventual demise of baseball in Oakland, the fucking San Francisco Giants emerged to make their comments.  Because on at least one instance, it was the Giants themselves that pitched a fit and effectively blocked the A’s from getting a new ballpark in San Jose, because they felt it encroached on their geographic territory, despite the fact that the city is kind of equidistant from both cities.  I’ve said it once, and I’ll say again, fuck the Giants.

Speaking of rich, of all the dirty laundry to start hitting the waves in light of the news of the team’s eventual departure, one thing I was unaware of is the fact that the owner of the Athletics is basically the richest singular owner in all of MLB, which is extra sad since the A’s have basically been bottom-3 payrolls in the league since pretty much, the existence of time.  MLB as a whole declared jihad on the Marlins’ former owner Jeffrey Loria until he sold the franchise, and even in “being forced out,” he still made a gargantuan profit in the process.  It makes me wonder if anything of the sort has been remotely considered for John Fisher?

All the same, I just wanted to write some words to express my general disappointment over the impending death of baseball in Oakland.  Not because it’s a layup of a topic for me to write about, on the contrary, I drug my feet because I didn’t want to phone in something phony, but because I really did care about the Oakland A’s.  Even though my fandom has wavered throughout the years, I always took enjoyment of seeing whenever the A’s defeated any of the rich blue bloods of baseball, and remained a low-key fan of a team that embodied success almost as an act of defiance.

I’m sure baseball in Las Vegas will be enjoyable, but inevitably when I visit whatever stadium will be there, it’ll be a hard time not comparing it to the dated charm and the place that made the most out of the nothing they had, of the Oakland Mausoleum.

Year three of forever

And just like that, my eldest is three years old.  As many of us parents like to opine and ponder, where has the time gone?

It’s surreal to think that three years ago, #1 showed up five weeks early, and spent nearly the first month of her life in the hospital’s NICU.  Hooked up to machines and tubes until her body was strong enough for her to be allowed to come home, where she spent another seven weeks tethered to a portable heart rate monitor.

Eventually the monitor would go, she kept growing like a weed, we stopped referring to her as “adjusted age” and it’s been a veritable roller coaster throughout the last three years of watching her grow, learn, develop and transform from the frail tiny preemie into the little threenager that’s full of opinions, emotions, energy and bursting with lifeWhy this is important and warranting a thoughtful blathering beyond the obvious every day and every birthday is important, is that three is the age in which I feel like I can recall beginning to have my own memories and really feeling like my own human being.

I have fuzzy memories of playing in the living room of my old house, which was something that was pretty rare in later years of life, because we had a family room in which most activities would take place, but looking back at these memories that might’ve been the family room back then.

I was playing wiffleball with my dad, more specifically I was throwing a ball as hard as my little kid body could muster, but no matter what I threw, my dad would catch it.  I remember thinking how incredible it was, and that he could catch absolutely anything in the world and being amazed an in awe of my own dad.

As it’s supremely important to be a fixture of my children’s lives, I can only hope that as I continue to play and spend time with my kids every day, that memories of playing and hanging out with dad and mom start taking root and becoming the things that both my kids will reminisce and wax poetic about it in their own lives when they become teens and adults of their own.

Hopefully, #1 will remember dad making her birthday cake for her, because she still can’t eat eggs, and there was absolutely no way I was going to let her birthday pass without a cake.  So I found a recipe for an eggless cake and did my best to make it, and although I don’t think I’ll be getting any Paul Hollywood handshakes for it, she seemed to like it, and that is all that mattered.

But man, three years.  Born in perilous conditions, made worse by a global pandemic, and here she is, healthy, strong and smart as a whip, reading and using the bathroom on her own.  Although she’ll always be a baby to me, she’s a far cry from the baby she was once.

Next thing I know, I’ll blink and she’ll be getting ready for high school, her first job, and if she chooses, moving out and going to college.  Hopefully then, I’ll still be completely smitten with her and her sister, and just as in love with being their dad then as I am now.

I miss Dan Uggla

I heard about this story about how the Braves ended a spring training game in a tie, because a player got the game-ending third strike on account of not being in the batter’s box in time, because 2023 marks the start of the pitch clock era, where every single pitch now has a timer attached to it in an effort to speed up the pace of games because society’s ever-growing ADD has declared that baseball games are too long and nobody likes them anymore as a result.

No sport gets fucked with structurally as much as baseball does.  Aside from some rule changes to discourage defense because offense is sexy, basketball is by and large the same game as it now as it was back in the 1950’s.  Football’s primarily changed in order to try and reduce concussions and protect quarterbacks, but pretty much everything else goes as it did in back in 1920. 

But baseball?  Any strategy that seems too effective is neutered or outright banned (the shift), pitching mounds are raised, lowered, the physical baseballs themselves are altered, bats are regulated and banned, and there are rule changes practically every year.  One of the lasting anecdotes about baseball was that it was the game with no clock, and as a result, every single pitcher-batter matchup was potentially important, and that there was no strategic milking of the clock, and that every out had to be recorded in order for a team to be declared a victor.

Now, there is an actual clock, which effectively puts the romanticism of baseball having no clock and that every out must be earned to rest, because now baseball has embarked on a path where games really can have a finite time limit now.  With rules in place that prevent managers from spamming pitching changes in order to play matchups, and rules in place that prohibit excessive checking base runners by pitchers, MLB has basically closed the walls around old school baseball strategy and effectively put a hard time limit on every game, flexible solely by the need for extra innings or managers milking pitching changes to the most of their limited new abilities.

The Pedro Astacios who took practically an entire minute in between every pitch, and the Bruce Chens who once trolled an entire stadium by checking a runner at first like 14 times will all be phased out and rendered extinct, regardless of how capable they are throwing a baseball, and future Moneyball will probably be cultivating pitching staffs with wildly different pitch preparation speeds, with the intention of throwing off batter timing throughout games.

With all these changes to the game, I just think about the times in the past where I think about having loved baseball the most and lately, the name that pops up the most as someone I really miss, is Dan Uggla.

He was kind of like the anti-stat geek player that the rise of the stat geeks baseball culture absolutely abhorred, but teams themselves still coveted because of his sheer ability to hit home runs when he actually made contact with the ball.  His defense was below-average, he wasn’t a threat to steal bases, and being a second baseman it’s not like he had much of an arm.  But again, the guy hit home runs, and that’s a talent that every team wants, whether they wanted him as a starter, or a designated pinch-hitter, or an actual designated hitter.

There was once a season where he hit .179 on the year which is abysmal, but he still clobbered 22 home runs, which is still noteworthy.  My friend and I made the joke that all he hit were home runs, and with just 80 total hits on the year, he really did hit home runs over 25% of the time.

I take it back about not having much of an arm though, the guy had more physical arms than just about anyone else in the history of Major League Baseball, because pound-for-pound, Dan Uggla had to have been the most jacked player in history.  The guy was 5’11 which isn’t that tall as far as professional athletes go, but the guy had massive, massive arms, with most people making the comparison that his arms looked like Popeye.

Additionally, Dan Uggla also wore the tightest, most form-fitting uniforms as he could, throughout his whole career.  I’m not sure if it were deliberate, or if across the board there were some sizing issues for a man of his stature combined with his musculature, but my friends and I declared that his uniform size was “smedium” and made the comparison for any time anyone was seen wearing a tight-fitting shirt in order to attempt to make their musculature look impressive deliberately.

All in all, Dan Uggla was kind of the perfect poster boy for ironic baseball player fandom.  He was hated by nerds, but still loved by teams, and basically always had a job as long as he kept hitting home runs, all while wearing his ridiculous smedium uniforms and looking like he had professional wrestling as a post-career option.  But more importantly, he was kind of like this totem of simpler times, where there weren’t so many oppressive rules, fans bitching about game duration weren’t heard, and players had to deal with the shift.  No matter his numbers, relievers and closers in his time, still had to face Dan Uggla with the game on the line and although the numbers may have favored them most of the time any mistake they let loose was probably going to end up in the seats.

Man, I miss Dan Uggla.  Even more now, with the game itself undergoing so many dramatic changes.  It’s going to be weird when I eventually actually watch a baseball game again, and seeing shit like pitching clocks on the HUD, and I imagine they’ll feel noticeably faster in speed, which in some cases might feel pretty convenient, but at the same time, very much not like the baseball that was what I grew to love and enjoy.

Whatever it is, I’m all in

Source: Calvin & Hobbes creator, Bill Watterson, comes out of retirement to produce an illustrated book for grown-ups

Honestly, despite the accusations of the announcement lacking substance or any real hints at what the nature of this future work is going to be like, I don’t really need it.  Calvin & Hobbes has had such a profound influence on my life as a whole, you could tell me that Bill Watterson was coming out of retirement to produce a book on growing garlic, I’d still be interested, and anticipate there being some sage wisdom in it.

I don’t even care that Watterson isn’t even the artist in this book, I know he’s a legend already artistically, but he’s also a masterful storyteller.  Seriously, I believe it’s possible to remove all artwork and just leave the text throughout all of Calvin & Hobbes, and it would still be interesting.  I look forward to the return of Watterson in The Mysteries, and it’s definitely not something I would have ever imagined, being taken back to 1995, anticipating his next release, only to be devastated in knowing that it was going to be his last.

Either way, it’s something to genuinely look forward to this year, and much like I do with film and television I really look forward to, I’m going to do my best to avoid anything about it until it’s actually released.  It’s surreal to think that after finishing Calvin & Hobbes back in 1995, I’ll be reacquainted with his work again nearly 30 years later.

This story jacks me up HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Stories tailor-made for me: “Hacksaw” Jim Duggan holds home invader at gunpoint until authorities arrive

Man, y’all have no idea how much of a high this story puts me in.  As a kid, I was a fan of Hacksaw Jim Duggan and his over-the-top patriotism; the 2×4, the way he waved Old Glory with such exuberance, and the constant calling out of HOOOOOO!!  He was the ultimate babyface, and regardless of his actual win-loss track record, it was impossible to root against him.  Against Earthquake, Sgt. Slaughter, Yokozuna, Hacksaw Jim Duggan was the ultimate paragon to root for, without any of the bullshit baggage that guys like Hulk Hogan were notorious for dragging along.

As an adult, I had the privilege of meeting Hacksaw Jim Duggan at a minor league baseball game one time.  My friends and I made a trip to Frederick, Maryland primarily because Hacksaw was going to be there.  I got him to sign my replica of the WCW United States championship, and he brings wholesome balance to the fact it’s also signed by a pre-murderous Chris Benoit.  But the best part of the visit was that Hacksaw was just cool as hell, and spent more time than was necessary just chatting and hanging out with one of my friends and I who didn’t really care about the baseball game itself.

Needless to say, there’s always soft spot in my heart for Hacksaw Jim Duggan, and when I read this story about how he thwarted a home invader, it just got me all sorts of jacked up excited.

Of course a paltry home invader was going to do the job to Hacksaw Jim Duggan.  The guy is the first ever Royal Rumble winner.  A former WCW United States champion.  Former WCW Television champion.  Made wrestling fans turn on Goldberg, when they squared off.  A WWE Hall of Famer.  Defeated cancer.  Twice.

The crook clearly had to not have known the property he was trying to break into.  Or if he did, he chose very, very poorly.  All embellishing aside, Hacksaw Jim Duggan is still a relative tank of a man, and I would think twice about engaging a man of his stature, even if he were unarmed.

But speaking of arms, I really am curious to know what kind of firearm that Hacksaw whipped out to subdue the intruder.  As I said, the guy is a beast physically and I’ve shaken Hacksaw’s hand.  He’s not Andre the Giant, but he definitely has big meaty hands from a life of sports and entertainment, and I would imagine a Glock would feel pretty inadequate in his grip.  I feel like a guy like Hacksaw probably had a Magnum or a handgun with some rather large caliber rounds, because I can’t imagine a guy like him is interested in a tiny pew pew gun to protect his home.

Really though, I think I speak for all fans who’ve heard this story, we all really wish the news broke that he subdued the intruder with his 2×4.  Just smashed it over the crook who broke into his home, and then pointed it like a shotgun at the guy on the ground until the cops arrived.  Or better yet, if it was dark, he actually held the piece of wood like a shotgun claiming it was a real shotgun and kept him docile with a fake gun.

Honestly, the crook probably doesn’t realize how lucky he is to not be dead.  Hacksaw comes from an era where he’s one of the fortunate ones to have made it out alive for starters, but to be of sound mind and body to where he had the self-control to not just blow the fucking head off of an intruder in the first place.

And in true paragon Hacksaw Jim Duggan manner, he didn’t press charges, on account of the crook claiming he was running from danger.  In more ways than one, the crook was granted way more generosity and leniency than he deserved, but that’s just the kind of guy that Hacksaw was and is, in and out of the ring – a true babyface that does the good things, regardless of if the heels in the world deserve it or not.

Man, the world is so lucky to have people like Hacksaw Jim Duggan in it.

Netflix’s Wednesday: kind of like Harry Potter without the stink of Rowling’s bigotry

When the stills came out for Netflix’s Wednesday, I didn’t realize that it was a show primarily about Wednesday.  I couldn’t get over Luis Guzman as Gomez Addams, and I figured this was just a reboot reimagining of The Addams Family.  Regardless, the premise seemed intriguing and I had made a note to catch Wednesday when it dropped.

Having finished the show, I can say that it was overall a fun season of television, that blended nostalgia, a clever plot and pace that gave just enough hints to make you think you know what’s going on, but also so many hints that it makes it difficult to narrow the who done it of the story.

It was also interesting that the show basically takes a property of most of its target audience’s childhoods, which was always campy, but giving it a much more of a push into an adult territory.  As much as the old Addams Family show and movies talked about blood and violence, it was rare that any was actually seen, but that’s hardly the case with Wednesday, which isn’t shy at all about showing both.  In a way, it’s kind of like Riverdale, re-telling Archie comics, but way darker and more grown-up storyline.

The casting of the show was fantastic, and aside from my fascination with Luis Guzman being Gomez, I think the cast was done well, from all of the Addams to all of the core students that we’re supposed to become invested in.  Naturally, the show is centralized around Wednesday, and I had no idea who Jenna Ortega was before this, but I’m sure she’s become quite the household name after this show.  I think she did an incredible job of portraying and evolving Wednesday’s character light years beyond the most popular rendition of Wednesday most people remember from Addams Family Values.

And of course it was fun to try and count how many times she actually blinks in the show.  I’ve heard no number higher than seven.

Atmospherically, the show feels like Harry Potter in setting, but like the title of the post goes, it’s better that it’s not, because JK Rowling is kind of cancelled and it’s nice to have something that feels like Harry Potter without having to be it.  All the way down to the borrowed plot device that was originally lifted from Castlevania II.

The funny thing about the show to me is the fact that the general plot and story of it didn’t actually have to be skinned with the Addams Family franchise at all.  Change all the names of the characters and remove all Addams IP, and it would stand alone.  Obviously it’s done to give it immediate credibility and ease the need for buzz, but I’m just saying I feel that a show called Friday and featuring equivalent characters with different names would probably be just as enjoyable.

Overall, it’s a fun and enjoyable show that has a lot of variety of appeal.  It’s nostalgia, it’s clever, well acted, and has a pace that doesn’t drag and has an easy to follow linear plot that it’s funny to play guess who as the episodes progress.

I’m sure future seasons will be in the works if they’re not already renewed at this point, and I think it has the makings of one of Netflix’s more substantial wins over the last few years.