OCTOBER 2014

Yes, my posts are getting tackier. It is certainly a tacky move to post postseason baseball predictions after the postseason is already underway. I agree. But I do not care. I am 25 years old now and it is time for me to become a man. Without further ado, on this Friday, October 3rd, with a full slate of playoff matchups upon us:

(I would've picked Kansas City and Pittsburgh in the Game 163s. One of those is incorrect, which proves I am being truthful, right?)

ALDS
Kansas City over Los Angeles, Baltimore over Detroit. 

NLDS
San Francisco over Washington, Los Angeles over St. Louis. 

ALCS
Kansas City over Baltimore.

NLCS
Los Angeles over San Francisco. 

World Series
Kansas City over Los Angeles in 7. 

THE KANSAS CITY ROYALS WILL SHOCK THE WORLD (SERIES)! Endless pitching talent. Energetic hungry lineup. Great team speed. And during these chilly October nights, these are the things that matter.

NFL '14

I am back with a sports post. Don't hold your breath; I understand how greatly you have been anticipating this moment. QUICK ASIDE: living in Oklahoma for over a year has me tempted to turn that "you" into a "you all." Fuck it. Cultural assimilation is a phenomenon which takes absolutely no prisoners. Especially those who fancy themselves as contrarian, highly independent motherfuckers (yours truly). 

So without any pretense or apology, here is my amped-up NFL predictions post for the 2014 season. I am surrounded by college football freaks in the Sooner State, and can't really indulge in my love for professional football with anyone around me. This is my catharsis. There is a very short list of things I enjoy more than wasting every Sunday in the Fall sitting on the couch all day watching football and compulsively checking my shitty fantasy team. The NFL has the most unique hype-structure of all professional sports. Since games are only played once a week, six days per week are allotted for rumors, predictions, and anticipation. No other sport comes close to the level of addictiveness this structure provides. 

My favorite team is the Buffalo Bills. Perennially mediocre, they own the streak for the longest active playoff drought in the NFL. They last made the playoffs when Y2K was a legitimate doomsday threat (1999). But I am drawn to them for a number of reasons. They are one of the most unlikely American cities to be home to a major-sports team (yes, I know fucking Green Bay, Wisconsin is weirder). They underscore an overlooked geographical region (upstate New York). They possesses an inherently pissed-off and dejected fanbase (depressingly long and cold winters, Buffalo defining the fabled crumbling industrial-Northeastern-working-class city). Perhaps most importantly, they have such an aesthetically pleasing city-nickname combination (Buffalo Bills Buffalo Bills Buffalo Bills). Despite not hailing from upstate New York and becoming a Bills fan by choice, I have willingly adopted the misery of being a Buffalo Bills fan. But, since the Bills are never THE WORST team in the league, fans always have cause for a sliver of cautious optimism. A vicious, unrelenting cycle ensues. The ebb and flow of being a sports fan reflects life.  

As for the picks: I need to record these somewhere on the internet so I can brag to (no one) when my picks are 100% accurate come early February. Week 1 snuck up on me and is already in the books, please mock my biases accordingly. 

Fuck Ray Rice forever. 

AFC EAST 
1. New England Patriots
2. Buffalo Bills 
3. Miami Dolfin 
4. NY Jets

AFC NORTH
1. Baltimore Ravens 
2. Cincinnati Bengals
3. Pittsburgh Steelers
4. Cleveland Browns

AFC SOUTH 
1. Indianapolis Colts
2. Houston Texans- Wild Card
3. Tennessee Titans
4. Jacksonville Jagz

AFC WEST
1. Denver Broncos
2. San Diego Chargers- Wild Card
3. Oakland Raiders
4. Kansas City Chiefs

NFC EAST
1. Philadelphia Eagles
2. Washington Redskins
3. Dallas Cowboys
4. New York Giants

NFC NORTH
1. Green Bay Packers 
2. Detroit Lions
3. Minnesota Vikings
4. Chicago Bears 

NFC SOUTH 
1. New Orleans Saints 
2. Carolina Panthers
3. Atlanta Falcons
4. Tampa Bay Bux

NFC WEST
1. Seattle Seahawks
2. San Francisco 49ers- Wild Card
3. Arizona Cardinals- Wild Card
4. St. Louis Rams

...On some surprises. The Buffalo Bills, of course, will surge to somewhere around 8-8 and a second-place finish in the mediocre AFC East. EJ Manuel is an above average NFL QB, contrary to all the h8ers he's accumulated over the offseason...The Baltimore Ravens will unite over the Ray Rice banishment and be the most pissed off team in the most perennially pissed-off division in football, rebounding to 10-6 and a home playoff game...The Kansas City Chiefs' epic playoff collapse in January carries into the season and their weak overall roster and offseason defensive subtractions are exposed at the bottom of the AFC West...In 2015, the first year the NFL Draft is not held in New York City, New York's two professional football teams will be selecting 1-2 in the first round. 

PLAYOFF PICKS
Wild Card: Chargers over Colts, Ravens over Texans. Cardinals over Eagles, Packers over 49ers.
Division: Pats over Ravens, Chargers over Broncos. Saints over Packers, Seahawks over Cardinals. 
Conference: Chargers over Pats. Seahawks over Saints. 
Super Bowl: Seahawks over Chargers. 



OMG:

  

Wanderlust VI

I was thinking about how inherently strange it is to chronicle a journey I took three years ago intermittently. 

...And the Wanderlust chronicles roll on. (pts. I, II, III, IV, & V) 

My first memory of the day Kate and I spent traveling through Central California tickles me, in retrospect, of being so stereotypically Californian. It was an exceedingly sun-kissed late spring morning. While backtracking east from Fairfield for a bit in search of State Highway 99 (which we were advised to use as our gateway to Los Angeles rather than the beaten path of every other California traveler, I-5), we took a couple of wrong turns. I can assure you that being lost had never felt so downright pleasant. We happened upon some sort of small village that was straight out of any given Sublime song.There were people on bikes weaving around the moderate automobile traffic. Other people were yelling from competing fruit stands for our business. The streets, extremely narrow and devoid of any sort of guardrail, ran directly alongside a small canal. As in, instead of the roadway having a shoulder, it just dropped right into the canal. One shifty move and we would probably end up in that canal. We eventually regained our bearings, but only now did we truly feel like we had reached California. 

As we eventually made our way over to State Highway 99, preconceived notions of California continued to be affirmed. Firstly, we quickly came to understand why California's official nickname is "the Golden State." This is what a significant portion of our drive through the heart of the state looked like:

  
FULL DISCLOSURE: We completely disregard the Gold Rush of 1849 and the existence of the Golden Gate Bridge as potential sources for the nickname. Sure, the above picture looks like it could easily have been shot in Nevada, but in California, shit just looked gold. We could feel a small transition from the West to the West Coast creeping in. We stopped at a fresh fruit stand directly off the highway in the early afternoon. I can still taste the fresh cherries I bought that day as we speak. Succulent. Juicy. Fresh. Californian. Safe to say my cherry had been popped. 

We would observe more fruit along the way: 

The best thing about driving on State Highway 99 was the immediacy of the surroundings. As opposed to driving on an interstate, which often operates as a bubble and can feel like driving through one really long, isolated tunnel, 99 just felt like a drive through California that we participated in. We were able to feel the Central California Valley and the abundant rows of fruit and the golden mountains. 

99 did not go on forever, though. We couldn't even ride it directly into Los Angeles since it merges with I-5 about 60 miles north of the city. Late afternoon is when we merged, and shortly after the merge is when I could start to feel the West ending. The checkpoint I revisit in my mind is Pyramid Lake:

Up until to this point, it felt like Road Trip 2011 had been one big uphill drive. Yes, even-level plateaus are included in the sentiment of "uphill drive". But after Pyramid Lake, it was 56 miles of downhill driving straight into downtown Los Angeles. I had never experienced such a direct descent. And the farther we got from Pyramid Lake, the more familiar the surroundings began to feel. The clustered commerce. Exits that were less than a mile apart. Aggressive drivers.  

Descent.

It's ironic that if you keep heading west, it eventually doesn't feel like the West anymore. Alas, we had come full-circle. We were back on the coast. 

A significant difference between coasts, however, is the sheer amount of space there seems to be to work with on the West Coast. Los Angeles was my first real experience with a sprawling city. The city's roads exemplify this. There just seem to be hundreds of traffic lanes everywhere you go. Luckily, Kate's ex-roommate Michelle, who we stayed with for a few nights in Huntington Beach, deftly navigated as we explored.

We were provided with a diverse tour throughout our short stay in Southern California. The usual stops of Disney Land and In-and-Out Burger (BEST FAST FOOD EVER) were included. We also surveyed the Hollywood section of the city, which was not at all what I envisioned as a child watching Disney films. Two adjectives that stick out to me about Hollywood, CA: dank and ghetto. I guess this is growing up. My personal Hollywood-related highlight was coming across a large crowd gathering for the premier of Jim Carrey's Mr. Popper's Penguins. I was unable catch a glimpse of one of my favorite comedic actors, however. Which obviously left me with a sour impression of Hollywood.

We also had a few run-ins with the Pacific Ocean; my first experience looking west at an ocean from the beach. Speaking of the beach, we also attended a drum circle on Venice Beach. For the unacquainted, it looked a little like this:

Front and center was the Kenny Powers of Venice Beach. I learned on that day that a drum circle is a bunch of hippies gathered on a beach "playing" percussive music, probably pursuing solidarity and unity. Safe to say I did not pursue those virtues on this day. The silver lining: Sunset over the Pacific Ocean:

Our last full day in the Golden State was probably the highlight for me. We spent it hiking through some lush mountains outside the Los Angeles sprawl. A common theme of Road Trip 2011: I fucking love mountains and deserts.  

Kate and Mich wandering into the wilderness.

 The next morning, we bade Michelle farewell and headed due east for the first time. We were as far away from home as we were going to get. The destination was now Connecticut.

_________________________________________________________________________________
BONUS MATERIAL:
Since I've Been Gone a Long Time from the pages of this blog, I wanted to throw the following tidbit into this post. Completely unrelated to the Wanderlust chronicles. Last year at the start of baseball season I wrote an extremely lengthy preview piece on the 2013 season. Although my love for baseball has been completely unwavering, it took a lot of time to write. And since I'm not a real sportswriter, I was not compensated for my time. So, the following is for the few readers that click on my sports posts. But mostly for myself to reference at the end of the season. It is currently May 15th, a full month-and-a-half into the 2014 MLB season, so I understand how tacky it is to post my season predictions now. But this is something I need to get off my chest. I apologize for this preview's tardiness. These predictions were originally posted on the message board of my Fantasy Baseball league, where I now get the majority of my sportswriting done. 

My 2014 MLB predictions, originally posted elsewhere on the internet 3/31/14 (honest to God!):

AL EAST 
1. Tampa 
2. NY -Wild Card 
3. Boston -Wild Card 
4. Baltimore 
5. Toronto 

AL CENTRAL 
1. Detroit 
2. KC 
3. Cleveland 
4. Chi Sox 
5. Minnesota 

AL WEST 
1. LA Angels 
2. Oakland 
3. Texas 
4. Seattle 
5. Houston 

NL EAST 
1. Washington, DC 
2. ATL -Wild Card 
3. NY METZ 
4. Florida 
5. Philly 

NL CENTRAL 
1. STL 
2. Pittsburgh 
3. Milwaukee 
4. Cincinnati 
5. Cubbies 

NL WEST 
1. LA Dodgers 
2. SF -Wild Card 
3. Colorado 
4. Arizona 
5. San Diego 

PLAYOFFS 

Wild Cards: NY over Bos, SF over ATL 
Division: NY over Detroit, Tampa over LA Angels; Washington over SF, STL over LA Dodgers 
Championship Series: Tampa over NY, STL over Washington 
World Series: STL over Tampa 

Norman, OK: The Land of Water Towers

I live in Norman, Oklahoma now and there are a lot of water towers in this town. 

Water towers posses a humble beauty that feels equal parts commercial (color photos) and rustic (black and white). Dotting the flat plains skyline, there seems to be a faint air of pride about them. Here are all the water towers in Norman. 

E. Lindsey, at the railroad tracks. 
The only city-sanctioned water tower not emblazoned with "NORMAN." Appears to be the oldest. 

Wanderlust V

Choose Your Own Adventure: I,II, III, or IV.

Welcome. Inspired by the above links, I briefly considered writing this entire post in italics. But I didn't want to facilitate a slanted tone.  

Over four months ago, I shortly resumed a running series within this blog chronicling my great Road Trip of 2011, cleverly titled Wanderlust. I have provided links to all of the previous installments in the event that my infrequently-written Wanderlust posts have left you grasping at straws for context. Please enjoy and be inspired by Wanderlust V. The fifth installment. We pick up in the early morning hours in West Wendover, Nevada...

And when I say early morning hours I mean about 6:30 local time. I hadn't subjected myself to that hour since I was waking up for senior year of high school. In our groggy haze Kate and I thought we had misplaced the room key we needed to return to the front desk, and I curtly accosted a Knights Inn employee upon her questioning us. We found the key in Kate's purse or something. But this grogginess was not for naught; we were about to indulge my whimsy and see the Great Salt Lake Desert in daylight! We peeled out of the Knights Inn parking lot and headed east. It was brief, but turned out to be our only true backtracking excursion of the road trip. 

A sea of white surrounded us on both sides of the highway. We pulled into the first rest stop so we (I) could take it all in and walk across some salt. I felt like we were on the moon. It was a truly incredible experience. The combination of the desert being totally unanticipated (I had no idea it existed/what it was before we drove through it) and the panoramas literally feeling otherworldly, I will boldly proclaim that it was my favorite part of our entire road trip across the nation. Let that sink in as you behold the Great Salt Lake Desert of western Utah:

Salt stuck to the bottom to my white flip-flop.

Salt as far as the eye could see. Stretching miles and miles towards mountain peaks. I had never seen anything more awe-inspiring in my life. My only regret is that we weren't able to take in the entire 40-mile stretch of salt flats via I-80 West as we had already rumbled through them the previous night, squandering an opportunity for a full daylight viewing. And since we had to get to central California by evening to meet my uncle, there wasn't much time for an 80-mile round-trip leisure drives through salt flats. A mile from the western edge of the desert would have to suffice on this day. 

So we climbed back into the Sentra after about 15 minutes and I reluctantly resumed driving westward. The salt flats quickly morphed into eastern Nevada high desert, which was my first experience with deserts as I had always imagined them: sparse, brown, and enchanting. It was also our first experience with a truly western rhythm of towns. Meaning, the towns were few and far between. And when we would come across a town, it would feel like a metropolis, regardless of its actual size. Case in point: Winnemucca, a "city" with a population of just 7,700, situated in north-central Nevada. Only it had everything you would expect from a city 20 times its size: a raucous main street, hotels, restaurants, and casinos. Naturally, we just stopped at a trashy Pizza Hut for lunch. SIDE NOTE: every single city, town, or village you go to in the state of Nevada has a casino of some sort. State laws are more chill here, man.

The view from the Winnemucca Pizza Hut.

I wish I had taken better pictures of the Nevada landscape in retrospect. We drove right through widest girth of the state, and was a truly gorgeous affair I don't feel is justified by these photos. We carried on into western Nevada as it became afternoon, and stopped at a historical-marker rest area at the eastern edge of the Forty Mile Desert. The history of the desolate Forty Mile Desert, perhaps the most perilous stretch of the fabled Oregon Trail, is manifest in the present-day (unintentionally, I think) via the facilities at this rest area. I'm talking a row of eight single-stall "bathrooms" with non-locking doors and "toilets" that feature a black hole straight into the ground. I will always remember my first experience with such modern convenience. 

Traversing the Forty Mile Desert.

Unlike frontiersmen of yore, Kate and I miraculously survived the Forty Mile Desert of Nevada, mostly thanks to our modern automobile. Soon we were charging through the Biggest Little City in the World and across California state lines. 

Our first impression of the Golden State was one of height. We were now among the snow-capped Sierra Nevadas. Might I remind you that this picture is from the month of June:

   
We were truly in a foreign land; there was snow directly outside our vehicle in June. It was all downhill from there, though. And by that I mean we were driving downhill for the entire rest of the day. Destination: California's famed Central Valley. We arrived at my uncle's house in Fairfield in time for a Texas Roadhouse dinner date. Not to mention a walking tour of his humble Californian home including a glimpse of his giant motorcycle parked in the garage and his wife's lavish garden out back. Fairfield was strangely reminiscent of home for us, in that it was a mid-size city with plenty of chain restaurants and department stores. One major difference, however: the roads were fucking wide. We learned of a major component of anyplace in the West on that day. There is a shitload of space, and thus, cities are sprawling. Roads are wide. Business is booming, and abundant. An enchanting concept. We concluded the evening watching the modern adaption of True Grit and retiring to a guest bedroom full of hats. We spent but a single night at my uncle's pad, for the next day brought southward California adventure.

Coming soon: Kate and Travis do California.

(I promise to not take four months to produce Wanderlust VI.)

I'm the Best Corner In the Game

What do you feel after those 30-seconds? I feel empowered. I feel inspired. I feel the passion in Richard Sherman's vehement barks as my own. I feel lucky to be able to witness a man on the brink, unfiltered, approaching the pinnacle of his profession. But based on reactions I have read and heard regarding this highly publicized and now-infamous (a week later) 30-second clip, it appears as though our culture of instantaneous soapboxing condemnation does not share my sentiment. 

If you've seen the conclusion any televised sporting event, you have probably had the pleasure of catching a post-game interview of a star athlete. These are conducted about 30 seconds after the game is over. The questions posed are exercises in self-reflection such as: 

"Take me through that last play!" 

or "What was going through your mind when it was a full count, bottom of the ninth, two outs, down by 1 with a man on base?" 

Maybe they were thinking "Uhh, I wanted to help us win the game?" It's their job. They're professional athletes, and they're competitive. They play to win, to best at their opponents at their job. It's equivalent to asking a chef, "What were you thinking when you walked into that kitchen today?" It is always uncomfortable for the viewer. The athletes are sweating and short of breath. The questions are insulting and simplify their profession. The post-game interview needs to be abolished entirely. But since I am not a powerful person, I will accept it as reality for now. And the reality is that professional athletes rehearse their answers. They don't want to have to deal with the backlash that comes with speaking their mind in a highly public forum. The interview is a job requirement, a necessary evil. I can't imagine many athletes got into the business so they could live out their lifelong dream of conducting post-game interviews. So they give their focus-grouped, politically correct, absolutely vanilla answers and move on with their evening. And that's what we, the public, expect and are comfortable with. 

But then Richard Sherman comes along. An individual violating the norm of robotic post-game interview answers. His Seattle Seahawks had just earned a trip to the Super Bowl, the first of Sherman's career, with a victory over their heated division rivals, as he made the game-saving play on defense while covering a wide receiver he clearly has had some beef with. He yells about how he's the best at what he does. And America goes ballistic with rage. 

The hypocrisy of our culture is astounding. We whine that today's sports superstars are devoid of true rivalries and animosity for one another; LeBron James teams up with Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh on the Miami Heat rather than taking pride in defeating them himself. Players move seamlessly between playing for both sides of the New York Yankees/Boston Red Sox "rivalry;" these are teams who used to hate each other's guts on geographic and historical principle. 

Yet here we have a rivalry in which two football teams, playing in the same division and exhibiting public disdain for one another, battling for a berth in the Super Bowl, the highest rung on the ladder they climb every day of their lives. A close, hard-fought game is played.  Cut to: a star player prominently involved in this game, 30 seconds after the game ends. Yells emotionally for fifteen seconds. America's knee-jerk reaction: WHAT A FUCKING THUG. NO CLASS. SELFISH. 

My reaction: Easy for you to say from behind the dull glow of a computer screen in your pajama pants and slippers. Have you ever toiled in the trenches at your job and felt unrecognized by your boss, or that someone else was getting recognition they didn't deserve? Now imagine you got the promotion you've been working towards for years, or you got that job offer you dream about every day, or you got a raise instead of that dipshit that's always trying to undermine you? 30 seconds after you receive this news, someone sticks a camera in your face and demands "Why do you deserve this?" Tell me that you wouldn't be a little fired up. That you wouldn't feel inclined to brag. You fought for this. You earned it. You're human. But that's not okay. 

We are part of a culture mired in insecurity and negativity. Twitter and Facebook and even this blog provide a soapbox for us to be the most righteous. There is no maturity requirement for social networking. Just an internet connection. It requires no effort or thought to publicly judge someone else's character or motives. And the best part is, all of your friends/peers/people you want to be impressed by your opinions get to see them instantly. "Like" them. Favorite them. Agree with your opinion. This cycle constantly feeds the cultural monster increasingly defined by self-importance and self-righetousness. The louder your voice is, the more extreme and critical your opinion is, the better. So when a professional athlete invades your living room in a raw, emotional, and downright shocking manner, you can't wait to refresh Twitter and rant about how he's a thug in 140 characters or less. A general sense of perspective in our society seems to dwindle every day. Do your part and think twice before you berate.

(Go Seahawks)