Animal

Well, it's been a while since I've had a moment to write. and so many great football games have come and gone - in the original sense of the word. Man U is about to wrap up another spectacular year - goddamn them - Chelsea have been robbed once again and yet I'm thinking you reap what you sow - and John Madden sadly retired from the other football, a big loss in every sense of the word and Tony Kornheiser rightly retired from Monday Night Football - he is what he is in his own realm and we love him for that and John Grudin steps into a role I think he'll excel at. The World Cup is breaths away and the air is warming up - all is good.

As bad as I am at self-promotion, she says with a blog in her name - my new book Animal will be launched in Vancouver May 30th, the name of the bar escapes me at this moment but I'll post it later. This Sunday May 24th, I'm reading at the Steam Whistle Brewery in Toronto from 3-4 as part of the brewery's Open Door event, where they allow the public to venture into where the magic is made to check out the architecture, eat fries, drink beer and listen to literature in all its forms - who can ask for more - beer, food, literature and architecture - nice. And on June 30th, I'm launching Animal at the new McNally Robinson bookstore at the Shops at Don Mills.

I hope you can all attend.

How about those Jays!

My Oscars

The Pro Bowl is to this football fan what the Oscars is to the sycophant. It's my chance to see many of my favorite players in one place at one time. It doesn't matter so much what they are wearing, what they look like at all. In fact unlike the Oscars, there's just a lot of talent in one place at one time and that's what thrills me. I know that there are many diehard NFL fans that cannot stand the Pro Bowl, will not watch it and think it's an insult to the game. Sure there's never much of a game. However, it's one last game, one last time to see the likes of say Peyton Manning until August. Weekends are harsh already. I don't know what to do on Sundays, I make plans with friends every Monday night I can. So as much as the Pro Bowl is not about who wins or loses or how they play the game - it's a few hours of football before the long withdrawal.

There's no place like home

Like getting swooped up in the eye of a storm and planted in some strange fictional reality with yellow brick roads, talking lions, scarecrows, tin men and flying monkeys, my time spent as the coach of a fantasy football team was not all its cracked up to be. Ironically, the last time I wrote an entry here was while I was immersed in the excitement of joining a fantasy football league. Like being lost in Oz, I disappeared, got caught up in illusion and no there is no wizard behind the mask - just some little guy pushing buttons and getting nowhere. That's how I felt as a fantasy football coach. Fantasy, a misnomer, because, truly, how many participants of fantasy football are really, really having a great time. Living my fantasy should not cause me so much strife.

For example, early on when I learned how to, I got rid of players I thought would be a hindrance to my progress in the league and I scooped up a little dude named Darren Sproles who was supposed to take the NFL by storm. Well, he did take the league by storm, but not until the last regular game of the season when the Chargers Tomlinson pulls his groin and they throw in Sproles. By this time I'm knocked out of my fantasy league, didn't make the playoffs and the unceremonious end to the season occurs. That's it. It's over. No awards ceremony, no drinks with the other coaches to chat about the season - nothing - silence and Darren Sproles rides off in the sunset as one of the greatest little running backs. Where were you when I needed you Sproles? That's no fantasy.

I was grateful to be asked to join a fantasy football league, I appreciate the thought. But I can tell you it's something I will not do again. Give me Sunday and Monday from September to January relaxing on the couch in my ruby slippers with not a worry in the world outside of the success of my favourite team and players. Because when it comes to football there's nothing like the real thing - there's no place like home.

Fantasies dashed

When fantasy turns to nightmare, one must ask themselves, why? Why do I do this to myself? At the start of every NFL season I say, Alexandra, just watch the games, don't bet on them, don't join a football pool, a fantasy league. On Sundays get up, crack open a beer, don your Colts toque, grab a bag of Louisiana hot sauce chips, and enjoy the next 12 hours of your life - relish in Sunday football. But no - I joined a fantasy league and as much as part of me enjoys it, the fact that I'm losing sucks. I hate to lose. Once in a while it's okay - weekly, no. That is why I don't play golf. If I can't be consistently good at something - forget it. Especially when the outcome is out of my hands. I can't call Lendale White and Santana Moss into my office and give them a talking to. I can't stand in front of Eli Manning. look him in the eye and shrug. I can't throttle my Tennessee defense when they lose points for my fantasy team Turf Dogs and I can't change bye weeks. So I ask you - why? Why do I subject myself to fantasy football? Because a pure sports enthusiast loves the goddamn challenge and if you like football, NFL style, you gotta enjoy a little bit of pain.


Speaking of pain - I can't tell you how disappointed I am that Canada's men's national soccer team did not qualify for the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. Well, I can tell you how disappointed I am but you'll have to read it from my Toro column Sports Extras - here's the link - http://www.toromagazine.com/?q=node/794

Four days till Sunday - think I'll get a Proline!

The Little Guys

I think I'm getting the whole Fantasy football thing, then I'm thrown for a loop. I won my first two fantasy games, got cocky the second week and dropped a couple of players aiming to improve my running game. I picked up the much touted, but didn't do too much in week 3 - Darren Sproles. Also I grab a stalwart like the Giant's Derrick Ward. Good, I'm happy. Week three goes smoothly, but not great. I win, but another guy in my league gets more points than me. I have to learn to be happy beating my weekly opponent, but oh no, I want to be the best every week in the entire league. So now I've got the mentality of an NFL GM. It's not enough to win each week, you have to win the Super Bowl. So this week all my reliable point makers have a bye week. So in one week I lose four guys including my QB Eli Manning, my kicker Gostowski, Reggie Wayne and my back up QB Kitna - so I've got to drop a couple of players that I like to ensure I've got a kicker and a quarterback in my game this week. So what happens. I add Kerry Collins, okay, I know, I know, but the worst part is after I got two other new guys they went on the injury list - Mr Roscoe Parrish for one. So I ask you, now I've got two guys injured and practically a whole new team of guys I didn't really want but picked up due to the bye week sucking the life out of my team. This is hard man, no fantasy should be this stressful - then last night I watched the killer college game USC against Oregon and was blown away by Oregon's little RB Quincy Rodgers and I thought man, I can't wait to pick up that guy when he comes to the big leagues. It doesn't matter how big and strong you get, the little guys will get you everytime!

Reinstating Favre!

It only seems fitting that it's Brett Favre news that kicked my ass back into gear. A friend just emailed me to tell me that Favre has requested his reinstatement papers. Brett whatever for - you left in style, reflective of your great career, your whole persona. Everyone loves you Brett. Now I'm not so sure. I never thought I'd say this about the enigmatic Brett Favre - but dude, you're becoming a little annoying. For years you led up to the grand departure, now this. I thought and wrote about this in my Toro magazine Sports Extras column that it was the fans, the league that had contrived the rumour that you were thinking of returning. I thought it was the fans, the league that had trouble letting you go - but I am clearly wrong. You are having trouble letting go. Understandably. They say athletes go through the toughest time trying to retire and accepting retirement. My dad still has dreams about playing football, or soccer to you. He thinks about it all the time and he retired from playing professionally over thirty years ago. Look what retirement did to O.J. Simpson but you're a stand-up guy Brett. If anyone can handle retiring, I thought it would be you - you've handled everything on your plate - up until now!

Brett you left once - why go through it again. It's like getting back together with that person that you really know you should leave but feel bad for them, or out of habit or guilt stay. Then you'll have to go through the inevitability of breaking up again. Why put yourself, put us, through it again!! Say goodbye Brett - give it up gracefully - but man, give it up. We had all accepted it, you're opening a healed wound, brother and I'm not so sure any of us want to go through getting stitched up again. It's getting ugly Brett - its getting ugly!

Horseshoes and Asses

Well, if there's one thing I've learned about myself in the last couple of months - I do not have horseshoes up my ass. I have the best intentions, go with my gut, hope for the best and the things I believe most in, don't work out, in fact they have come dead last. Now, that sounds like I'm feeling sorry for myself but honestly, it is what it is. Take the Preakness, I was a nutcase that day. On fire with beliefs, intuition and for those of you who may have read my Preakness blog, the horse and jockey I believed in came out of the gate flying, and ended dead last. At that point, I was a self-admitted Big Brown skeptic. Yet, the minute I set eyes on him on Preakness day, I didn't doubt my gut, it just had a few new kicks in it. Big Brown won that race like nobodies business, and on that day - it wasn't mine. So he won me over and I had no doubt, no doubt, he would take the Belmont and be the 12th horse to win the Triple Crown.

I bought Proseco, rounded up my closest friends, called my folks to ensure they were aware of post time, I did my hair, hyperventilated and ultimately in less time than it takes to sneeze, it was all over and my no-doubt-prediction came, it's even too hard to say now, dead last! Unbelievable. What went wrong - I wrote about it maybe, put it out in the ether, when I should have kept my big mouth shut.

My other theory. Big Brown was ready. Although he did not look the same going into the race, his jockey didn't either. There was a definite change in both horse and jockey's demeanor pre-race. More pressure, sure, I imagine. So then Big Brown steps onto the dirt and his ears prick up, he regains his composure. Looks almost himself. Not bad going into the gate, a little hesitant, comes out of the gate like he just wants to go. "Let me go Kent, let me go. I don't want these ponies in front of me, clear my way buster, let me go. God damn it, let me go. I can do it. I can do it, just let me go, man"

And his jockey appeared to be holding him back. Who knows? We don't really know what's going on between horse and mount but it looked to me like he was struggling to hold his horse back, preserve his energy for the mile and a half race and yet Big Brown wanted to go. He wanted to win. So I'm figuring that when Kent said, okay Buddy, now, go, go." Big Brown said, "You know what, screw you!! I wanted to run right from the get go and now, now, when I'm all messed up you want juice. Forget it man. No way buster. I'm done." I have a feeling at that point his jockey had to do everything from stopping Big Brown from stopping dead in his tracks - on the track, pulling a Seabiscuit.

Communication between horse and rider is huge and I think something went awry in that department. I think Big Brown could have done it - easy. What I've learned, is to keep my mouth shut. Every time I pick a horse to win, they come last. So I'm not about to tell you who I think has the potential to win this Euro Cup. All I can say is..no, I can't, I just can't.