LONGWALKABOUT

I live near Philadelphia. A few weeks from now the city will be graced with the presence of the Democratic Convention. Of course, I am using the word grace loosely. Politics is an awful business. If I asked my kids what they wanted to do when they grew up, and one of them said they wanted to be a congressman, I’d immediately put them in timeout. Since it appears to be too late to move the convention to a different city, I think I will use it as a teaching experience. We are going to learn some hands on lessons about politics.

I think that we’ll start out with a good old-fashioned protest. Grievance culture has kept the protest alive and well. There are so many straw man protests that we could choose from, but we’re going to think outside the box. We’re going to protest for laws that already exist. Example. Women’s right to vote. Picture two boys, ages six and eleven, and their father (we’ll just say he’s in his late thirties) on a street corner outside the convention hall with signs proclaiming that women should be allowed to vote. Then, (and this is the payoff) whenever someone stops to inform us that women have been able to vote since 1920, we’ll act surprised. I’ll turn to my boys and loudly say that things have definitely gotten worse since 1920, so maybe the whole women voting thing wasn’t such a great idea.  (Before someone decides to protest me, I would like to point out that this is obviously a joke.  And if you didn’t realize that, we will consider removing your right to vote.)

After our protest, we will move on to a lobbying lesson. All of us will dress in three-piece suits and track down a member of congress. Shouldn’t be hard. We hope to find one that is slightly inebriated. Again, shouldn’t be hard. Since this is the democratic convention, we’ll claim to be lobbyists from some green energy battery maker. In our meeting we will explain that our batteries are better than anyone else’s, and that we need taxpayer money to build a plant in the congressman’s state. When they appear noncommittal to our venture, we will explain how some of that taxpayer money could end up in a numbered account in the Caymans. Voila, lobbying lesson complete.

There is so much to learn from politicians.

How to make promises you never intend on keeping.

How to answer questions.  Could be very useful at school.

Teacher:  “Why haven’t you finished your project?”

Student:  “That is a fantastic question Debbie.  Can I call you Debbie?   I think we can trace this particular problem back to the definition of the word ‘project’.  The issue seems to arise from the fact that we each have different understandings of this word.  I’m sure we can work this out, and in the end you will understand that you are more at fault.  I suppose that I will have to check with a member of my staff and get back to you.  I hope I can count on your support in November.”  (Big empty smile)

How to start unnecessary wars.

How to install an email server in your extra bathroom.

How to be the third member of your family to run for president and then blow a 100 million dollars without winning a single primary.

How to take multiple large donations from Wall Street firms, and then campaign against them.

How to vote for the lesser of two evils.

By the time I am done with my lesson plan, my kids will never want to be involved in politics.  Which, of course, is the whole lesson.

 

 

 

 

Many things will be written about freedom and independence today.  I decided that one more piece would be too many.  Instead, I have decided to bring you highlights in the list of inventions that resulted from said freedom and independence.  Without further adieu,

THE FRUITS OF FREEDOM

• The coffee percolator-  This invention is significant to me personally.  My mornings would not be the same without a percolator.  Now that I mention it, neither would my afternoons and evenings, and sometimes mid-mornings, once in a while my right after lunches, and from time to time my late nights.
• The Dustpan-  I am shocked that everyone waited for us to come up with this one.  It does kind of explain why it took so long for Europe to get rid of the plague though.  I mean, what were they doing, sweeping all of the dirt into the room of their least favorite child?  They weren’t vacuuming, because we invented that in 1860.
• The Vibrator-  You know, for relieving tight, sore muscles.
• Ice Cream Soda-  When I am elected president, root beer floats will be handed out at the end of every naturalization ceremony.
• The Popcorn Machine-  In a happy coincidence, this came along right about the time that motion pictures were invented.  Still no word on whose idea it was to charge eight dollars for a bucket of popcorn at the theater.
• The Mousetrap-  Another thing that would have been helpful around the time of the plague.  Dustpans and mousetraps and we could have nipped that thing in the bud.
• Candy Corn-  We’re sorry.  So sorry.  They can’t all be winners.
• The Airplane-  As far as inventions go, it’s kind of a biggie.
• The Traffic Cone-  Down the street from me live some people that have two traffic cones blocking the end of their driveway so that no one can turn around there.  When those cones are allegedly stolen at roughly the same time I move to the Caribbean, it will be entirely coincidental.
• Deodorant-  Believe it or not, there are some people that still refuse to take advantage of this life changing invention.  Also, believe it or not, some of those people have significant others.
• American Football-  Because no sport should be tied at zero after ninety minutes.
• The Electric Guitar-  A crucial invention that along with Ozzy, helped elevate music as an art form.
• Tupperware-  An ingenious place to keep food.  Never mind that most of this food will eventually go bad and two months later we will remove it from the fridge and spend five minutes trying to figure out what it is before we reluctantly open the container.
• The Zamboni-  I know, you thought it was from Canada.  Nope.  California baby.
• Weather Satellite-  This invention has been crucial to occupying the time of our older generations.  Now they can watch the five o clock news and immediately afterward call all of their sons and daughters to warn them that there is a fifty percent chance of rain next Tuesday.
• The Child Safety Seat-  Because apparently no country cared about children until,,,,,, Merica.
• Buffalo Wings-  Something to eat while we watch American football teams score points.
• ME-  

My favorite thing about summer is swimming.  I love the water, always have.  The local Y has an indoor pool, so we can swim year round, but going from the door of the building to the car after swimming during winter (also known as the devil’s season) is a completely horrible experience.  Summer swimming is the best.

This summer, the boys and I plan to swim in every type of body of water.  Creek, river, lake, ocean, and pool.   Last summer we never made it to a river or lake.  This year we will aggressively seek to rectify that violation.

Creek-  Thanks to swimmingholes.org, I’ve found a nearby creek with a great place to swim.  As an added bonus, it has a rope swing.  And it’s all perfectly safe, as long as you don’t hit a rock, or as long as the rope doesn’t break, or as long as the limb that the rope is tied to doesn’t break.  Perfectly safe.  We went to this spot last year and some hippie guy showed up, sat on a rock, and played the flute.  Not only was it kind of weird, he refused to play Free Bird on request.

River-  River swimming can be dicy with little guys.  I am planning on combining the river experience with kayaking and life jackets.  A float trip will do the family good.

Lake-  We have a local state park that includes a 1400 acre lake.  A lot of people boat and fish there, but strangely, swimming is “not allowed”.  This is strange to me.  What do you mean by no swimming?  The only time swimming is not allowed in a lake is when it’s too cold.  That brings me to an observation. What is the point of all of those beautiful Canadian lakes.  Seems like a waste of water if the only thing willing to get in is a grizzly bear. When I get to heaven I plan on walking right up to God and saying, “I have a few questions. First, why would you put perfectly swimmable bodies of water in cold climates? Second, what’s up with mosquitoes?  Third, how many times did my guardian angel save my life. I’ve got the line set at 150, and I’m taking the over.”  Anyway, we plan on getting around the no swimming rule by using the old, “I fell out of the kayak” trick.

Ocean-  It looks like we’ll be swimming at the Jersey shore this year.  When we aren’t in the water trying to guess what we just stepped on, we’ll be enjoying local activities like playing homemade Syringe Lawn Darts, and trying to find the most offensive t-shirt on the boardwalk.

Pool-  Summer provides many pool swimming opportunities.  My kids are always quick to jump at these.  Unless it’s at the Y.  My six year old is down with it, but his eleven year old brother is convinced that the pool there is dirty.  “C’mon dad, the water’s not totally clear and I got someone else’s hair on me last time.”  To which I reply, “I’ll grant you that it’s a little strange to get other peoples hair stuck on you, but I did find you biting your toenails the other night, so in the cleanliness department, you have bigger problems.”

Yes, we will complete the quintfecta of swimming this summer.  And then when the leaves start to turn and everything in the supermarket is suddenly flavored with pumpkin spice, we will get sad, very sad.

 

 

I am a Pittsburgh sports fan.  This is a birthright that has been handed down to my kids.  I have pictures of both of them when they were newborns and still in the hospital, wrapped in Terrible Towels.  Once in a while I remind them, “Remember kids, you are American by birth, and Pittsburgh sports fans by the grace of God.”  Since 2005 we have been lucky enough to witness four major sports championships.  Each championship is followed by the obligatory parade.  I’ve attended two.  The Steelers 2009 parade, and the one for the Penguins this past week.  I dragged my two bestest buddies along with me to the Penguins parade. (My 6 and 11 year old boys.)  Now that I have some experience with these events, I’ve decided to put together a helpful list of some things you can expect when going to a victory parade.

Police-  There will be a heavy police presence.  Some of them you’ll see.  Some of them you won’t.  That’s right, there’ll be undercover cops, just like 21 Jump Street,,,,,,, except it’s not a high school, their headquarters most likely won’t be an abandoned church, and Johnny Depp will be too busy smacking Amber Heard around to show up.  (ALLEGEDLY)  I appreciate the heightened presence.  At this most recent parade I was a first hand witness to lots of police activity.

1.  I saw an officer pick up litter in the street.

2.  I saw an officer drop litter in the street.  He was trying to be slick, but I saw it.  After a quick contemplation of hopping the barrier and performing a citizen’s arrest, I decided to let it slide.

3.  An officer helped a woman cross the street.

4.  Two officers put the stop to a grimy looking guy with an open container of alcohol.

5.  The aforementioned undercover officers busted an unlicensed guy selling pennants.  Thank goodness we didn’t have to be exposed to the horror of unlicensed pennants.

An overall good job by Pittsburgh’s finest.

Drunk People-  Most of the drunk people will be watching the parade.  Some of the drunk people will be in the parade.  If you are taking your kids, I recommend not standing too close to the end of the route.  Some of the people at the end of the route will have been there since early in the morning, maybe the night before.  They will most likely have been drinking since sometime before that.  Lets follow a simple logic train.  1- A person drinks a lot.  2- That person stands in one place for hours.  3-  Eventually a crowd forms behind that person, and they can’t leave their spot.  4-  That person must relieve him or herself desperately.  5-  Oh no, I think the person behind me is peeing into a beer can (True Story).  Glad my kids weren’t there for that one.  Just pick a place somewhere in the middle of the parade route.  The drunks will be better behaved there.

The Mayor-  Yes, the mayor of the city will definitely show up.  Why?  Who knows.  I just assume it’s because politicians are miserable attention hogs.

Players With Cameras-  This is one of the rare events in sports where the players are taking pictures of fans who are taking pictures of them.  It’s a little weird if we’re gonna be honest.  I totally get it though.  For both the players and the fans, this is something that doesn’t happen very often.  It’s something everyone wants to remember.  I kind of get a kick out of the fact that my kids and I are on Phil Kessel’s parade video.  Someday he’ll power up his computer at home and watch his footage to relive the experience, while at the same time, many miles away, I will be saying to my wife for the 75th time, “Hey honey look at this great shot of Kessel taking a video.”

The Trophy-  Some player, usually the team captain, will be in the last parade car holding the championship trophy.  It’s cool.  It’s really cool.  I have to say that of all the trophies in sports, the Stanley Cup is the coolest.  If you’re lucky, one of the players will bring it close enough for you to touch.

Impromptu Speeches-  At the end of the parade route many of the players will go up to the microphone on the stage and say a few words of appreciation for the fans and their teammates.  I can promise you that none of these speeches will be eloquent.  Some of them may be downright indecipherable.

In summary.  Sports victory parades are unique experiences.  They are slightly disorganized, exciting, and unpredictable (your favorite player may just jump into the crowd right next to you).  If your team ever wins a championship, I recommend taking the day off and celebrating it with three or four hundred thousand of your closest friends.  Years later when you watch the commemorative video of that championship, you can tell your kids, “I was at the parade.  Troy Polamalu jumped into the crowd right next to me.  I grabbed his leg.  Oh yeah.  And there were two guys standing right behind me peeing in beer cans.”  Then you can drag them to the next one.

If you read this with any regularity, you’ll know that my wife and I recently visited New Orleans.  (My new favorite American city) On our last night in town, we went to a jazz club to hear the Rebirth Brass Band play.  The place had been recommended to me by a talkative visitor’s center employee who informed me that it would be “hot, sweaty, packed, and loud.”  I took that exact quote and repeated it to my wife.  She didn’t hear that.  She heard, “candle-lit tables, spaced an appropriate distance apart, with waiters and a nice jazz band.”  We ended up standing behind two drunk college guys for the first set of the show, and then we called it a night.  It’s too bad, the band was great.

One of the things that sticks with me most about that night was a girl who was standing in front of us in the line to get into the club.  It’s not really the girl that I remember, it’s her tattoo.  On one of her shoulders she had a large portrait tattoo that was really quite well done.  People do this from time to time to commemorate a lost loved one.  I’ve seen the faces of parents, children, maybe significant others, all memorialized in ink.  This is the first time I’ve seen Charles Darwin’s face staring back at me from someone’s shoulder.  I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that not even any of Darwin’s descendants actually have a Charles Darwin tattoo.  I’m gonna climb even further out on that limb and say that this may be the only Darwin tattoo in the entire world. Look, you can do whatever you want with your body, but as Isaac Newton famously figured out, “for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”  Yes, it’s the Third Law of Physics, but it applies to social situations as well.  I can imagine her parents equal and opposite reaction.  It goes like this.

Girl:  I got this tattoo as an expression of my love for science and also to make a social statement about how I reject religion, but embrace evolutionary theory with religious fervor.

Dad:  That’s great honey, good to know that money we sent you went to important things like feeding and clothing you,,,,,,, and tattoos.

Girl leaves room.

Mom:  Why couldn’t she just get dolphins on her ankle, or a pixie, or a butterfly, or a tramp stamp?

Dad:  Why couldn’t she have gone to a bad tattoo artist, then we could have told everyone that it was actually Benjamin Franklin, and that she was just really patriotic.

Mom:  What are we going to tell her grandmother?

Dad:  I’m sorry, what did you say?  I was just over here setting up this savings account online and naming it
“Tattoo Removal.”

Mom:  I guess she’s not wearing a sleeveless dress to the Easter Service this year.

Dad:  Can you imagine what kind of boyfriend she’ll bring home for Thanksgiving?  You don’t attract normal guys with stuff like that.  It’s going to be some nightmare like this.

Dad:  Hi, welcome to our house, Happy Thanksgiving.

Boyfriend:  Thank you for having me,  I’d like you to know right off the bat that I’m extremely allergic to nuts, I am against all forms of violence, and I don’t believe that people have the right to own pets.

Dad:  Great.

Dad:  So, where are you from?

Boyfriend:  I was born and raised in Michigan.

Dad:  You must be looking forward to the Lions game today.

Boyfriend:  I only watch Association Football.

Dad:  You mean soccer?

Boyfriend:  Yes, the true football.

Dad:  Great.

Dad:  Well, anyway, we’ll be serving Thanksgiving Dinner soon.

Boyfriend:  It’s a shame that what I’m sure will be a delicious meal, is going to be served on a day that celebrates the beginning of the theft of this land from indigenous peoples.

Dad:  Would you like some peanut brittle?

So their you have it.  An imagined conversation in which the imagined people have another imagined conversation.  All because of a girl with a Darwin tattoo.  I’m just glad that the other shoulder is free so she can get a tattoo of Harambe the gorilla, 1999-2016, Gone Too Soon. Her poor parents.

I am celebrating my Memorial Day in the least patriotic way possible.  Looking for patio furniture at IKEA.  I will be wandering around in an endless maze of Swedish furniture, housewares, and meatballs, less than twenty miles from Valley Forge National Historical Park.  Two hundred and thirty nine years ago George Washington and his troops endured an awful winter of frigid temperatures, starvation, and disease, so that today I can spend time wondering if that deck table is really teak.  No matter how much I poke fun at my current predicament, we should value those sacrifices more than anyone can put into words.

Two thousand troops died at Valley Forge.  Over the course of the Revolutionary War close to twenty five thousand American troops died.  In the Civil War, which is the bloodiest war in American history, Union and Confederate losses topped six hundred and sixty four thousand. In World War One, one hundred and sixteen thousand.  In World War Two, four hundred and five thousand.

I just finished rewatching Band Of Brothers.  At the beginning of the series Rod Strohl, an original member of the famed Easy Company, described how three men from his small town committed suicide because they had been designated 4F.  4F was the military term meaning they were medically ineligible for full service.  That statement really stuck with me.  These three men were so devastated they could not serve their country, they took their own lives. With like fervor Americans rushed to enlist to fight in World War II.  Do those kind of people exist anymore?  Men who believe in something bigger than themselves?  I know that they do, I’ve met them.  I just don’t think there are as many of them as there used to be.  Take Brooklyn, New York as an example.  Eleven thousand men from Brooklyn died in the second World War. If we were forced to invade Normandy with guys from today’s Brooklyn, we’d be storming the beaches with a bunch of dudes that had man-buns, tight pants, and ironic t-shirts.  Not exactly confidence inducing.

Speaking of Normandy.  My wife and I were fortunate enough to be able to take a trip to France.  She was there for business, but we added some sightseeing days on to the front end of the trip.  On arrival at Charles De Gaulle, we picked up a rental car, got lost, found our way, got lost again, and eventually arrived at the American cemetery in Colleville-sur-mer.  It was toward the end of the day.  As I wandered the small museum and cemetery grounds, exhaustion combined with the fact that we were on consecrated ground, had me blinking back tears the entire time we were there.  I remember turning to my wife at one point and saying, “These guys actually saved the world.”  It’s heavy.  You can feel it in the air on those beaches.

As cliche as it may be.  Wherever you all are today (barbecues, the beach, asleep on the couch, a small town parade,,,,,,,,,,,,IKEA)  I hope you take the time to remember those who gave their lives for something they believed was bigger than they were.  The ideals that Washington and his men were fighting for.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have been at IKEA for three hours now and I feel like having a few vegetarian meatballs before I go home and assemble my brand new POANG chair.

A Tribute video I found Youtube.

 

 

Last year at the beginning of the summer I made a list of five things that I wanted to do with my kids during their vacation months.  We did pretty well.  This year we are going to go bigger. Everything will be doable, but I’m not going to include something like keep the car clean all summer.  Because, A: That turned out to be unattainable, and B: What a boring item.  So, in keeping with the motto of the boys in our family, “Go Big, Because You’re Going To Get In Trouble Either Way”, I present the 2nd Edition of the,,,,,,

ATTAINABLE SUMMER BUCKET LIST

1. Visit Fort McHenry-  My eleven year old read a book about the Star Spangled Banner this year.  I find that history is best learned when you can combine what you’ve read about it with a physical experience.  So we’re going to make a trip down to For McHenry National Monument and Historic Shrine.  I will combine this with other historical lessons throughout the summer.  Examples include learning how to churn butter, breaking out the Atari so they see what it was like to be a kid in 1983, and perhaps learning to milk a cow.
2. Hunt For Fossilized Shark Teeth-  Once in a while I see guys walking around with shark tooth necklaces that they bought at the boardwalk.  Immediately I think, “What a schmuck.”  Then I think, “Sharks teeth are kind of cool.”  Then I think, “I wonder where I could find some.”  Then I think, “I could really go for some boardwalk fries.”  I did a little research and found a place in New Jersey where we could go hunting for sharks teeth and other fossils.  Then we will make or own shark tooth necklaces which we will pair with backwards baseball caps, tank tops, and sunglasses for a strikingly awful fashion look.
3. Spend Several Days In the Big Apple-  My wife and I spend the night in New York from time to time.  Nothing really adventurous about that.  But this summer we’re taking the kids.  That adds a level of adventure.  How?  We’ll visit Times Square to see the sights while avoiding the creepy people who dress as movie characters.  We’ll go to Central Park where the kids can play in the playground and climb the rocks.  While in the park, we will avoid climbing on rocks that smell too much like urine.  We’ll got to the Museum of Natural History and try avoiding the museum gift shop and certain bankruptcy.  Now that’s adventure.
4. Hit The Natural Waterslides In Ohiopyle State Park-  This water feature claimed my wedding ring years ago, and it is time that I make a triumphant return. Okay, I really just want to take the kids some place where we can camp out and enjoy getting in the water.  They’re both old enough to try out the natural slides in Meadow Run now.  For old times sake, I might give them each a ring that they can lose in the stream.
5. Go Standup Paddleboarding As a Family-  My wife and I both did this at different times last summer.  It was really fun.  This year I want to get the kids into it.  I can promise you this.  It’s going to be super frustrating, and my six year old will throw at least one epic fit.  In the end, I hope they’ll get the hang of it.  Then we can paddle around on the lake looking like a trendy fitness family, as long as my threats to the children that they “have fun or else” don’t carry across the water.

Those are the big items for this summer.  We’ll combine them with catching frogs, practicing piano, camping out in the treehouse, spending a week with grandma and grandpa, some movies, and miniature golf outings.  Hopefully when we put all of that together, we’ll have a summer that compares to last year.  Can’t Wait.

 

BONUS ITEM JUST FOR ME.  Skydiving-  During the deepest darkest days of winter I thought about jumping out of a plane a lot.  Now that the weather has warmed up, I have decided that it would still be a cool thing to do,,,,,,, except now I’m thinking about doing it WITH a parachute. Any one of my friends who reads this and is interested in doing the same thing, shoot me a message.  It’s always better to hurl yourself toward the earth at terminal velocity with someone you know.

 

Mother’s Day.  As you were all out buying your last minute gifts that you hoped appeared at least somewhat thoughtful, you were probably thinking, “Where the heck did this holiday come from?”  Well you’re in luck, because I’m here to explain.  Grab a cookie or some of the candy you bought for your mom, and I’ll sort it out for you.

Although early tributes to mom can be traced back to Egypt, Greece, and Rome, I’m going to focus on the modern American holiday.  It’s more relevant to why you just spent fifty dollars at Hallmark. Perhaps the ancient history would be worth exploring if there was a Mother’s Day pyramid in Cairo, or if moms had fought it out in the Colisseum for the title of #1 Mom in the Roman Empire.  But alas, none of that actually happened.

Modern Mother’s Day can be traced to a woman named Anna Jarvis.  In 1908, she took ideas from Julia Ward Howe and her own mother, Anne Reeves Jarvis, and convinced her Methodist Church to hold a Mother’s Day celebration.  So, on May 10, 1908, two separate celebrations were held.  One at Ms. Reeves church in Grafton West Virginia, and one in Philadelphia.  People loved the idea.  Later that year the YMCA petitioned congress to make it a national holiday. Because who loves moms more than bikers, indian chiefs, cops, and construction workers. That effort didn’t succeed, but the next year, some kind of Mother’s Day celebration was happening in forty six states.  Anna Jarvis kept up her own pressure on congress, and in 1914 Mother’s Day was declared a national holiday.  Yay Anna.

Anna had meant for the holiday to be a personal thing.  You get together with your mom, have some one on one time, and maybe go to church.  This is America though, and by the time 1920 rolled around, the holiday had been thoroughly commercialized by the greeting card, floral, and confection industries.  This caused Jarvis to completely lose her mind.  She openly campaigned against the commercialization.  She tried to copyright Mother’s Day so others couldn’t use the term.  She railed against anyone that she thought was tainting the purity of her day with mom, never stopping to think that mom was making out like a bandit because of all of this.  For twenty eight years she kept up this goofy fight, even protesting Eleanor Roosevelt’s celebration of the day.  She never married or had children, and spent most of her money in legal fees in an endless crusade against the day that she created.  At age 84, Anna was nearly penniless when she passed on in a Philadelphia sanitarium.  She never knew that during her final days, it was actually the The Florists Exchange that had provided for her care.

For the small fee of five dollars, you can tour the home where Anna Jarvis grew up.  In an interesting and entirely creepy side note.  You can do a “ghost tour” of the house at certain times.  Apparently the Ghostbusters have informed the owners that the place is haunted.  The ghost squatters include Anna Jarvis’ mother, a boy who haunts one of the closets, and a couple of other kids.  So, yes, dead children allegedly haunt the childhood home of the lady who founded Mother’s Day.  That’s not disturbing at all.

Next time you feel like taking up the cause of brand new holiday, remember a couple of things. A:  Whatever you create will be commercialized.  Deal with it.  B:  After you die, people will come along and claim that your now historical home is haunted by random folks because, A: whatever you create will be commercialized.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY

 

Several months ago Sports Illustrated came up with their list of 100 Greatest Moments in Sports History.  I went through the entire list.  All one hundred.  It took me a while, because I fell asleep a couple times.  So, I made a pot of coffee and finished.  While it’s hard to argue with their top five, the rest of the list is a mish mosh.  Example.  Both Secretariat’s Triple Crown win and the U.S. women’s soccer 1999 World Cup win are on the list above the Immaculate Reception and Kirk Gibson’s home run in the 1988 World Series.  To add to the outrage.  They included the 1992 U.S. men’s Olympic basketball “Dream Team” on the list.  That is arguably the most overrated sports story ever.  C’mon Sports Illustrated, you’re better than this.

I could argue this list all day, but that would be boring.  So, what I’ve done is put together a list of my own.  This list has nothing to do with sporting greatness.  It’s all about entertainment value.  I give you.

Marc’s Top Five Most Ridiculously Entertaining Moments In Sports History

5.  Reporter vs. Brett Myers.  After a 2007 loss to the Padres, a reporter approached Phillies pitcher Brett Myers (an alleged wife beater and all around bad guy) about two home runs he had given up.  Myers ended up getting mad and called the reporter “retarded”.  The smirking reporter proceeded to ask Myers if he could spell retarded.  Hilarity and a lot of swearing ensued.  It still makes me laugh.  I also still don’t think Brett Myers can spell retarded.

4.  Dennis Green On The Bears.  Nothing is better than a coach freaking out to the media.  I could watch that every single week.  In 2006 the Arizona Cardinals lost a game to the Chicago Bears.  The Bears had no business being in that game, but after two fumble returns and a punt return, the Cardinals twenty point lead was gone and they went on to lose.  In the post-game, Dennis Green, the frustrated head coach of the Cardinals, delivered a great coaching rant.

3.  Randy Johnson Kills A Bird.  In a 2001 spring training game, Randy Johnson, whose fastballs reached into the triple digit miles per hour zone consistently, beaned a bird with a fastball.  At full speed, all you saw was an explosion of feathers about halfway between the pitcher’s mound and home plate.  This was funny to everyone but the bird, may he rest in peace.  Mr. Johnson, who has since retired, has now opened a photography company.  The logo of his company,,,,,,,,,, a dead bird.

2.  Bobby Knight Throws Chair.  In a 1985 game against Perdue, Indiana head coach Bobby Knight got upset about a foul called on one of his players.  He let the refs have it verbally and got called for a technical foul.  Coach Knight, who was never one to be shy, then decided that his indignation required further expression, so he picked up his chair and threw it across the court.  Awesome, just awesome.

1.  Phillip Wellman, My Hero.  In a 2007 minor league baseball game the manager of the Mississippi Braves got a little upset about the umpire throwing his pitcher out of the game.  He threw an epic tantrum that included throwing the pitcher’s rosin bag like a grenade.  It is my all time favorite sports meltdown.  In fact.  When I pass on from this world, I fully intend to write my own eulogy.  The last few lines will go something like this.  “Marc would like to let everyone know that he is not happy about the whole dying thing.  He finds it hard to express this unhappiness through words alone, so he wished us to play  this video on a loop for the remaining duration of the services.”  This two minutes and seventeen seconds of video will then be played on multiple flat screens until everyone goes home.

BONUS

Rick Monday Saves The Flag.  On April 25 forty years ago, Rick Monday, center fielder for the Chicago Cubs, played the hero.  Two protesters, you know the kind, the ones who are always mistaking their right to free speech for a right to interrupt everyone else’s good time, decided that they would light an American flag on fire in left-center field.  Rick Monday, who had served in the Marine Corps, decided that this was unnacceptable and swooped in to grab it before the morons could get it ignited.  Tommy Lasorda threw in some colorful language from the third base area.  A great moment which was commemorated in an iconic photo.

New Orleans.  New Orleans is great.  My wife just attended a conference there and I tagged along for four days.  She was in meetings most of the time during the daylight hours, which left me with a lot of unsupervised roaming time.  And roam I did.  The French Quarter. The Garden District.  The World War II Museum.  More of the French Quarter.  On our last day there, I decided to hop a street car up to the New Orleans City Park.

The City Park is nearly twice the size of New York’s Central Park.  It’s a beautiful combination of waterways, green spaces, and Spanish Moss covered live oak trees. Not to mention an art museum and various athletics facilities. Some of the live oaks date back more than 600 years. When hurricane Katrina hit and the levees failed, most of the park ended up covered by anywhere from one to ten feet of water. Since then, I am informed that it has largely recovered, minus around 2,000 trees and some buildings.

I decided to rent a bike for two hours.  On a Tuesday afternoon, there weren’t a ton of other people in the outer reaches of the park.  Let me just say that nothing makes you feel like you’re going to get murdered and thrown in a bayou like riding down a heavily wooded dirt road, thinking you’re alone, and then having some guy step out of the woods next to you.  Thirty minutes into my ride, I decided that I needed a mission.  When I think of Louisiana and bayous, I automatically think of alligators. Were there gators in the park?  My phone would know.

“Siri, are there alligators in New Orleans City Park?”

“Yes Marc, there are, but do you really think this is a good idea?”

“Really Siri, this is the first time in six months that you have actually answered any of my questions with useful information and now you want to give advice too.”

“Marc, what would your wife say?”

“Zip it.”

“But Marc, the average alligator bite averages over 2000 pounds per square inch, or three times the pressure of a great white shark bite.”

“Full of information today aren’t we. My next phone is going to be a Samsung.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

I spent the next twenty minutes on a fruitless search.  Then I ran into an old fisherman.  We had a short conversation, and he guided me to a trail that would eventually take me to a place where I might find an “eight footer” and possibly some others.  I had seen this trail earlier in the day and avoided it because of the whole, I didn’t want to be murdered and thrown in the bayou thing.  But away I went into the woods.  Being eaten by a gator didn’t seem as bad as being murdered.  At least it would be a better story.  Honestly, which conversation would you rather people be having at your funeral?  “What’d he die of?”  “Oh, congestive heart failure.” OR “What’d he die of?”  “Would you believe an alligator got him?”  “WOW.”

I reached the area that the fisherman had described and disappointedly rode back and forth scanning the water.  Nothing.  Then, after about fifteen minutes and five passes, I saw one.  It appeared to be about five feet long as it swam smoothly through the green water and vegetation.  I watched from about twenty to thirty feet away as it moved out into open water, stopping there momentarily as I tried to get a good picture.  Eventually it went behind a low hanging tree that blocked any good view that I had.  I climbed another tree next the water to try to get a better shot.  No luck.  I then became one of the misguided people in history who has thrown sticks into the water near an alligator to try to get it to move closer to him.  Again, no luck.

I had to return the bike and meet my wife for dinner, so I decided to be happy with the pictures that I had gotten, left my friend the gator, and pedaled back.  Thankfully, I was not murdered and thrown in the bayou along the way.  That would have been embarrassing.