It is official: Hell has frozen over.
Different people have different definitions of this rather common phrase. Something like, the Cougars will win the Rose Bowl when hell freezes over (one of my favorite jokes is about that), or I'll go on a date with you when hell freezes over. For me, well, the official mark of this phase of the apocalypse is that I am currently watching baseball. Baseball.
Here at BlytheLea, we tend to prefer more random sports. The ones that no one else watches. Like hockey (oh, wait, that's because there is no season) or cycling or dressage. The ones that are rarely even televised. Now, however, I am watching the Giants smoke the Cardinals for a berth in the World Series, and the longer I watch, the more I am liking it.
This happened to a slightly lesser degree last year. My dad is fan, and I ended up watching the World Series last year. Is there a special word for the finals? I mean, the Stanley Cup Playoffs become the Stanley Cup Finals. I honestly don't know.
(On an off note, they just showed a clip of the Braves beating the Pirates in '92. Please, sports casters, we Pittsburgh fans have a hard enough time accepting the perennial losses, do you really have to show us when we were good and losing? I am a Pittsburgh everything fan, I just tend never to watch the college football games or baseball, though I have been to the parking lot of PNC Park. Short of the Mariners, that's the most I can say about any major league baseball team. Crazy thing is I actually liked the Tri-Cities Posse/Dust Devil games I went to. Most sports I prefer in their professional form, especially football, but not baseball. Odd that.)
So here I am, a quiet evening with no cable (translation, no Monday Night Football) and my alternative is the Presidential Debate. I hate politics. That rules out every other channel. And the worst part is, I'm actually enjoying this game. I think I'd prefer it a bit more if the game was close, but then, maybe not. As it stands, a rare tip of the chapeau to baseball all over the world tonight, and now I'm going to go bundle up. Funny how it's suddenly so cold.
BlytheLea L.E.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Hole In My Head
I thought about this particularly Dixie Chicks tune to describe my self enforced diet, but I'm making progress there, so I'll use it to rant, quickly, I promise, about the state of hockey.
I read another blog today that called Gary Bettman the serial killer of hockey. As creepy as that sounds, oh how accurate. The delayed news now is how we will be missing the sport at least until the 1st of November, to which I really wanted to say, no really? Color me surprised.
Ach, the bitterness is spreading. I can't think about hockey without getting riled up. I just want to scream at both sides. Like I said last time, THERE IS NO MORAL HIGH GROUND ANYMORE!!! Hmm, expected that to be a bit more therapeutic than it turned out being. Let's be honest, I thought this whole blogging thing would be more therapeutic than it has been. I've come to accept that I just get riled up about sports, but, more particularly the politics of sports. My mom is a political wonk. She loves it, and watches it, and reads it. It drives me up a wall. But here I am, having to watch as my favorite spectator sport ever is embroiled in the same b.s. It hurts, and being driven up a wall isn't the half of it. I turn the T.V. off, but my phone is another matter.
I have taken to following Mettalrug Magnitogorsk. I admit, Evgeni Malkin is probably my favorite player to watch. I love every player who dons a Pens jersey, but Geno has that rare natural talent without even trying. Still, I'm now reduced to Russian YouTube clips, and translating a site from Russian can be a bit tricky. I don't speak enough to do it easily, but I refuse to crack and use Google Translate. After all, every roadblock is just an opportunity in disguise, right? Well, the lock out has turned into an opportunity to broaden my understanding of Russian. I've already learned the words for goal, miss, and save. Let's see if I can get those penalties figured out next. It seems we hockey fans are going to be having some time on our hands.
BlytheLea L.E.
(If I were a more violent minded person, I'd be calling for a lynching right about now. Please, no one take that seriously. Very little of what I ever say is meant to be taken seriously. And why is it we all have to have disclaimers attached to everything? Seriously, it worries me.)
I read another blog today that called Gary Bettman the serial killer of hockey. As creepy as that sounds, oh how accurate. The delayed news now is how we will be missing the sport at least until the 1st of November, to which I really wanted to say, no really? Color me surprised.
Ach, the bitterness is spreading. I can't think about hockey without getting riled up. I just want to scream at both sides. Like I said last time, THERE IS NO MORAL HIGH GROUND ANYMORE!!! Hmm, expected that to be a bit more therapeutic than it turned out being. Let's be honest, I thought this whole blogging thing would be more therapeutic than it has been. I've come to accept that I just get riled up about sports, but, more particularly the politics of sports. My mom is a political wonk. She loves it, and watches it, and reads it. It drives me up a wall. But here I am, having to watch as my favorite spectator sport ever is embroiled in the same b.s. It hurts, and being driven up a wall isn't the half of it. I turn the T.V. off, but my phone is another matter.
I have taken to following Mettalrug Magnitogorsk. I admit, Evgeni Malkin is probably my favorite player to watch. I love every player who dons a Pens jersey, but Geno has that rare natural talent without even trying. Still, I'm now reduced to Russian YouTube clips, and translating a site from Russian can be a bit tricky. I don't speak enough to do it easily, but I refuse to crack and use Google Translate. After all, every roadblock is just an opportunity in disguise, right? Well, the lock out has turned into an opportunity to broaden my understanding of Russian. I've already learned the words for goal, miss, and save. Let's see if I can get those penalties figured out next. It seems we hockey fans are going to be having some time on our hands.
BlytheLea L.E.
(If I were a more violent minded person, I'd be calling for a lynching right about now. Please, no one take that seriously. Very little of what I ever say is meant to be taken seriously. And why is it we all have to have disclaimers attached to everything? Seriously, it worries me.)
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Hello Mr. Heartache
So I'm ahead of the curve for a change. What a weird sensation. Anyway, I won't go on long for this one, but it has been eating at me all evening. (Plus, I had the perfect Dixie Chicks song to start this with, and I was afraid I'd forget by tomorrow.)
Once, there was hope. Not two days ago, now my heart is feeling the dull ache of disappointment My optimistic thoughts have plummeted to the ground, leaving me bruised and sore. Am I exaggerating? Obviously. Still, any hockey fan has got to be feeling the same right about now. (Ha ha, and here you were probably wondering what the hell I was talking about. Sorry, heck.)
The idea of a deal was barely a glimmer in the commissioner's eye when it was shot down. To be fair, I freely admit I don't really comprehend the intricacies of this negotiation. I could read all the lawyer speak until the sun came up and still be lost, confused, and frustrated. So, lost and confused though I am, I have to admit to having my hopes crushed by the commissioner's response to the union's response. I worked at a certain delivery company for four years, three of those years straddling the line between union and management. Believe me, I know it is no walk in the park, but still, there is common ground if the stubborn asses would just look for it. (Wow, I am being horribly rude in my wordings today. My apologies to my inadvertent audience. I guess at this point, I just can't find it in me to play nice anymore.) No one is going to win. Both sides will lose. Win-win situations are just a way to soothe the bruised egos of everyone involved because, truthfully, we all know they lost something. My suggestion to the hockey world? Accept this, live with it, sign a freaking deal (ha, a bit of restraint there), and then go back, lick your wounds, and start the season. Is that really so difficult? Oh, wait, I forgot, I'm talking about a bunch of men who all think they're right. No one is! No one. We are all wrong somewhere, sometime, and there is no longer a moral high ground here. That was lost by both sides when the fans suffered. They claim there thinking of us, but lets be honest. It is simply business. Well, Gary Bettman's business plan so far has sucked. Three lockouts? Really? Who wins there? No one. Back to my point, accept the loss, move on, and please, for the love of whoever you hold highest, just let the season begin.
The first sign of loss is denial. Been there, done that. I guess depression was learning that the two sides basically told each other to go, okay, I'll edit this, "attach themselves to another object by an inclined plane, wrapped helically around an axis" (Ah, thank you Big Bang Theory. I just found you but I think this might be love. With no hockey, I am available in the evenings.) themselves today. Now, I have anger. I fear my acceptance I think that might have been what led to my apathy towards football. What if I am not alone? Can hockey really afford to continue to ostracize us? Are there enough left when all is said and done? Do they really want to find out? Just sign a deal. Please. I beg you.
Oh well, I guess hope just reared it's shiny face again. Maybe I haven't given up, but the added revenue they are fighting over is diminishing the longer this drags out. Common sense, boys, can be hard to accept, but it doesn't lie. Maybe we can all think about that. Maybe not. Whatever, I've tried my hand. Let's see theirs.
BlytheLea L.E.
P.S. I lied. This rant went far longer than I thought it would. Maybe I have issues. You think? but be kind, all the same.
Once, there was hope. Not two days ago, now my heart is feeling the dull ache of disappointment My optimistic thoughts have plummeted to the ground, leaving me bruised and sore. Am I exaggerating? Obviously. Still, any hockey fan has got to be feeling the same right about now. (Ha ha, and here you were probably wondering what the hell I was talking about. Sorry, heck.)
The idea of a deal was barely a glimmer in the commissioner's eye when it was shot down. To be fair, I freely admit I don't really comprehend the intricacies of this negotiation. I could read all the lawyer speak until the sun came up and still be lost, confused, and frustrated. So, lost and confused though I am, I have to admit to having my hopes crushed by the commissioner's response to the union's response. I worked at a certain delivery company for four years, three of those years straddling the line between union and management. Believe me, I know it is no walk in the park, but still, there is common ground if the stubborn asses would just look for it. (Wow, I am being horribly rude in my wordings today. My apologies to my inadvertent audience. I guess at this point, I just can't find it in me to play nice anymore.) No one is going to win. Both sides will lose. Win-win situations are just a way to soothe the bruised egos of everyone involved because, truthfully, we all know they lost something. My suggestion to the hockey world? Accept this, live with it, sign a freaking deal (ha, a bit of restraint there), and then go back, lick your wounds, and start the season. Is that really so difficult? Oh, wait, I forgot, I'm talking about a bunch of men who all think they're right. No one is! No one. We are all wrong somewhere, sometime, and there is no longer a moral high ground here. That was lost by both sides when the fans suffered. They claim there thinking of us, but lets be honest. It is simply business. Well, Gary Bettman's business plan so far has sucked. Three lockouts? Really? Who wins there? No one. Back to my point, accept the loss, move on, and please, for the love of whoever you hold highest, just let the season begin.
The first sign of loss is denial. Been there, done that. I guess depression was learning that the two sides basically told each other to go, okay, I'll edit this, "attach themselves to another object by an inclined plane, wrapped helically around an axis" (Ah, thank you Big Bang Theory. I just found you but I think this might be love. With no hockey, I am available in the evenings.) themselves today. Now, I have anger. I fear my acceptance I think that might have been what led to my apathy towards football. What if I am not alone? Can hockey really afford to continue to ostracize us? Are there enough left when all is said and done? Do they really want to find out? Just sign a deal. Please. I beg you.
Oh well, I guess hope just reared it's shiny face again. Maybe I haven't given up, but the added revenue they are fighting over is diminishing the longer this drags out. Common sense, boys, can be hard to accept, but it doesn't lie. Maybe we can all think about that. Maybe not. Whatever, I've tried my hand. Let's see theirs.
BlytheLea L.E.
P.S. I lied. This rant went far longer than I thought it would. Maybe I have issues. You think? but be kind, all the same.
If I Fall
I'll admit, I seem to have a Dixie Chicks theme going on this week. I think I'll see if I can keep it going for a week straight. Why? Does "because I can" work as an excuse?
Much has been said and documented lately in regards to Lance Armstrong. There is no opinion I can have without inciting fervent rebuttals. What I will say about the case itself is that in a country where we wrote into our founding document that a man was innocent until proven guilty, we seem determined to go with the British approach of guilty until proven innocent. Does no one else see the irony? That is all I will say about the doping allegations, the thousand pages of USADA documents, and the response (though currently lack of) by the UCI. My opinion is my own, and for this once, I will keep my own council.
What bothers me about this story is not everything mentioned above, but that some who were once die hard supporters, now not only abandon the man but the organization he came to stand for. If Barry Bonds started a children's hospital for leukemia patients, would we all refuse to help? Has the city of New Orleans banned Deuce McAllister or Will Smith for their suspensions? No. Every person is simply human. Gods do not walk the earth (Various religions are simply waiting for one to come back and do so.). If we fail and falter, we try to pick ourselves up, but sometimes we need a helping hand. Why do we throw stones at glasses houses? (I think that's in a Dixie Chick song too, it's also in the Bible.) So while we rail on against what might or might not have happened, we forget what still remains, and what needs us the most.
My grandmother died of cancer. My grandfather beat it. My family supports LiveStrong and we always will. I am more disgusted by those fans who have turned away from the organization than I am about what lies at the heart of the documents. We are fickle creatures, and this simply goes to show that even when there is a fight worth fighting for, we let our tender feelings rise up and strangle the hope of something better. No matter what you think of the man behind the organization, there was no one else like him, for better or worse. How many athletes found organizations that reach millions? Go on, I'll give you a day to get back to me on that one. The opinions of many are blocking out the actions of a few. To quote a Disney movie, "It doesn't matter, it's in the past." Whether you agree with me or not, stop the vitriol to an organization that helps families like mine every day. It belittles you far more than any amount of doping could belittle an athlete. We are better than this.
BlytheLea L.E.
Much has been said and documented lately in regards to Lance Armstrong. There is no opinion I can have without inciting fervent rebuttals. What I will say about the case itself is that in a country where we wrote into our founding document that a man was innocent until proven guilty, we seem determined to go with the British approach of guilty until proven innocent. Does no one else see the irony? That is all I will say about the doping allegations, the thousand pages of USADA documents, and the response (though currently lack of) by the UCI. My opinion is my own, and for this once, I will keep my own council.
What bothers me about this story is not everything mentioned above, but that some who were once die hard supporters, now not only abandon the man but the organization he came to stand for. If Barry Bonds started a children's hospital for leukemia patients, would we all refuse to help? Has the city of New Orleans banned Deuce McAllister or Will Smith for their suspensions? No. Every person is simply human. Gods do not walk the earth (Various religions are simply waiting for one to come back and do so.). If we fail and falter, we try to pick ourselves up, but sometimes we need a helping hand. Why do we throw stones at glasses houses? (I think that's in a Dixie Chick song too, it's also in the Bible.) So while we rail on against what might or might not have happened, we forget what still remains, and what needs us the most.
My grandmother died of cancer. My grandfather beat it. My family supports LiveStrong and we always will. I am more disgusted by those fans who have turned away from the organization than I am about what lies at the heart of the documents. We are fickle creatures, and this simply goes to show that even when there is a fight worth fighting for, we let our tender feelings rise up and strangle the hope of something better. No matter what you think of the man behind the organization, there was no one else like him, for better or worse. How many athletes found organizations that reach millions? Go on, I'll give you a day to get back to me on that one. The opinions of many are blocking out the actions of a few. To quote a Disney movie, "It doesn't matter, it's in the past." Whether you agree with me or not, stop the vitriol to an organization that helps families like mine every day. It belittles you far more than any amount of doping could belittle an athlete. We are better than this.
BlytheLea L.E.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Here's Hope
Okay, let me start this out as honestly as possible. I like to blog when I have an opinion that no one in my family shares or cares to hear. As such, with no hockey, a lack of interest (still) in football, and a sort of depression when it comes to cycling, there hasn't been much to say. Well, now there's hope.
I, like many, was completely caught off guard by yesterday's news that the NHL had come to the table with a new (much more reasonable) offer. They also finally learned a lesson or two from the NHLPA. Rather than simply say they had offered, it was the union's turn, blah blah, and simply leave it to the jaded public to be pulled around by our collective ear, they let slip one important detail: the deal had an offer of a 50/50 revenue split. That is huge progress considering that a.) the union currently holds a 53/47 hold and b.) the best the owners had countered with was the reverse: a 47/53 split. Honestly, what fool sits there and thinks to themselves, sure, I'd love a 6% loss of all revenues. Sign me up for that one? As an underemployed person in this economy, I might be tempted to take such a job, but not to return to what I did (which I did not love) and with no real improvements in, well, anything. It would be like if I went back to the company I left (think certain colored delivery vehicles) and they offered me less than I had been making, they cut my benefits (wait, this is starting to sound familiar) and any chance of a bonus. Then, to cap it all off, I find out that the upper echelons of management all got huge raises. I'm talking new car elevator type raises. Would I like that offer? Hell, no. (To be fair to my former employer, I left when I moved, not because I was downsized. But, on the other hand, learning my Christmas bonus was cut while full time supervisors' were not, well, that still rankles. This also has little to nothing to do with hockey. Sorry.) And, of course, there are the sticking points hidden after the stroke of genius that lead to the led out headline of an offer for a 50/50 split. Rookies, Unrestricted Free Agents, Mega Contracts. All hidden in the details. (Isn't that where they say the devil is?)
And so here I am, waiting. I'll admit, I methodically checked my phone every hour yesterday until finally breaking down and accepting that a change was not immediately going to happen. My sense of hope jumped out of me and screamed for a result, but logic prevailed. (I have, of course, already checked for an update this morning.) Hope is funny thing. It keeps us coming back even when the last three hundred and forty two times have yielded nada. It keeps us coming back when time three hundred and forty three only hints at a better outcome. I love the sport of hockey. For some crazy reason, I have not pushed it aside with bitterness and betrayal as I did with football, and seem to be doing with cycling. (Hey, in my defense, that season is basically over. Still, might be watching the Tour next year with the mute button on. Damn television keeps adding subtitles though. Is it too much to ask for just the sport, and no opinions other than my own?) As love has not turned to hate, or, even worse, disinterest, hope still springs up eternally every day. I had taken to giving up, letting my Twitter feed tell me if there was something, but refusing to go looking otherwise. Now, I'll be checking on an every other hour basis. If there's still nothing today, maybe I'll scale that back to every third hour on Thursday. Where does this lead? To the same nearly apathetic, ever so slightly depressed cave I was hiding in? Or a renewed sense of eagerness? Do I keep checking? Hmm, well, let's see if the three hundred and forty fourth time is the charm.
BlytheLea L.E.
I, like many, was completely caught off guard by yesterday's news that the NHL had come to the table with a new (much more reasonable) offer. They also finally learned a lesson or two from the NHLPA. Rather than simply say they had offered, it was the union's turn, blah blah, and simply leave it to the jaded public to be pulled around by our collective ear, they let slip one important detail: the deal had an offer of a 50/50 revenue split. That is huge progress considering that a.) the union currently holds a 53/47 hold and b.) the best the owners had countered with was the reverse: a 47/53 split. Honestly, what fool sits there and thinks to themselves, sure, I'd love a 6% loss of all revenues. Sign me up for that one? As an underemployed person in this economy, I might be tempted to take such a job, but not to return to what I did (which I did not love) and with no real improvements in, well, anything. It would be like if I went back to the company I left (think certain colored delivery vehicles) and they offered me less than I had been making, they cut my benefits (wait, this is starting to sound familiar) and any chance of a bonus. Then, to cap it all off, I find out that the upper echelons of management all got huge raises. I'm talking new car elevator type raises. Would I like that offer? Hell, no. (To be fair to my former employer, I left when I moved, not because I was downsized. But, on the other hand, learning my Christmas bonus was cut while full time supervisors' were not, well, that still rankles. This also has little to nothing to do with hockey. Sorry.) And, of course, there are the sticking points hidden after the stroke of genius that lead to the led out headline of an offer for a 50/50 split. Rookies, Unrestricted Free Agents, Mega Contracts. All hidden in the details. (Isn't that where they say the devil is?)
And so here I am, waiting. I'll admit, I methodically checked my phone every hour yesterday until finally breaking down and accepting that a change was not immediately going to happen. My sense of hope jumped out of me and screamed for a result, but logic prevailed. (I have, of course, already checked for an update this morning.) Hope is funny thing. It keeps us coming back even when the last three hundred and forty two times have yielded nada. It keeps us coming back when time three hundred and forty three only hints at a better outcome. I love the sport of hockey. For some crazy reason, I have not pushed it aside with bitterness and betrayal as I did with football, and seem to be doing with cycling. (Hey, in my defense, that season is basically over. Still, might be watching the Tour next year with the mute button on. Damn television keeps adding subtitles though. Is it too much to ask for just the sport, and no opinions other than my own?) As love has not turned to hate, or, even worse, disinterest, hope still springs up eternally every day. I had taken to giving up, letting my Twitter feed tell me if there was something, but refusing to go looking otherwise. Now, I'll be checking on an every other hour basis. If there's still nothing today, maybe I'll scale that back to every third hour on Thursday. Where does this lead? To the same nearly apathetic, ever so slightly depressed cave I was hiding in? Or a renewed sense of eagerness? Do I keep checking? Hmm, well, let's see if the three hundred and forty fourth time is the charm.
BlytheLea L.E.
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