Red Bled Green

The Basketball Jesus was my teacher; but Red was painting on the wall that everyone admired.

Here's a good column on him.

And, he'd have been excited about this year's team. We've got a good team. For the first time in a long time.

And God Said: "It's Good!"

Is football the Lord's game? I argue it is not. But I also contend, baseball, is not the Lord's game. Instead, I opine (GRE word) soccer to be the game of the Heavens.

It's called the Beautiful Game for a reason. And a thing of beauty is a joy forever. I take forever to mean eternally and thus, soccer is God's favorite game.

Second on the list: Baseball. To borrow from a friend in college: Baseball is the only game you can fall asleep on the porch to for 20 minutes, wake up and realize you haven't missed a thing. And we all know God rested on the 7th day...probably on a porch somewhere listening to the ball game.

Third on the list: Football. If only because of the title of this post.

The thing of it is: I think God used to like hockey, I really do. He had a thing for walking on water you know. But with the new rules, it's just not the same. And I don't think he like Darts very much either....but cornhole...well, we'll see.

These Hands Are Ambidextrous, I Know

So I'm watching the World Series last night and, though I'm outwardly pulling for the Cards -- and I am Grandpa -- I'm secretly wishing nothing but the best for the Tigers. More so after last night. Turns out starting pitcher Nate Robertson has a very unusual trait (and no, for those of you who watched the game, it doesn't involve flipping a bat off the floor into your hands -- I swear, the way the announcers teased it you would've thought Brandon Inge was about to solve the mystery of Cold Fusion).

Nate Robertson throws left but bats right.

In my life, I've only known of three people to do such a thing. Myself. My father. Rickey Henderson. And my entire life I've always, ALWAYS been asked while playing softball or baseball: "Aren't you going to bat from the left?" or "Don't you throw lefty? Why are you batting righty?"

I'm not saying it's been traumatic or anything -- in fact, I probably have increased dexterity -- more than the average person even. You see I do just about everything with my right hand as the dominate hand, except throw and shoot and dribble a basketball.

The thing of it is: Perhaps the announcers could've have pointed this out. Not so much. Instead, Tim McCarver (who've I've already told you is a drunk version of Captain Obvious) pretty much said the following: "Robertson certainly throws left and bats right, and that's not a baseball in his hand right now, that's a bat, and he's batting from the right side of the plate."

O Felix Culpa

Basically, this means: Fortunate Crime or Fortunate Fall.

For all you non-Red Sox Fans, this week marks the two-year anniversary of the Red Sox winning the World Series. What a joyous, immeasurable moment and month October 2004 was. And this phrase aply describes the feeling of Red Sox Nation, and, really, is the only tenet a true sports fan must accept.

That for the true fan, you must be willing endure some sort of suffering -- some incantation of "The Drive"; of a "Buckner"; or an "Aaron Boone".

Thus, O Felix Culpa: a victory cannot be as momentously sweet if there is no sort of heinous fall -- Fortunate Fall. That the loss of innocence I incurred in '86 and '03 and even '04 was a good thing because of how much greater and sweeter the victory would be.

Without going into the sordid history of the Red Sox, I think my point is clear: I am thankful for Pesky, the Reds, Buckner and Boone. Because without those dark nights of my soul they gave me, the victory would not have been nearly as worth it. And was it ever worth it.

The phrase has import this year with the '06 Tigers and the '03 Tigers. Not that I'm rooting for the Tigers -- Grandpa and me, we're pulling for the Cards.

The thing of it is: hopefully, it also will have import on my Fantasy Football team this year. How else can I explain my 1-6 start.

Just So You Know

This link was sent to me by a good friend. It's called The Church You Know. And I gotta tell you, it's funny. It's a little acerbic...maybe a little too much. Based on the the NBC The More You Know PSA's, it looks at 5 or 6 issues pressing upon the Church in the form of similar, video PSA's.

(It's not on par with The Office spoofs, however)

You might not like it. The Mrs. didn't. The humor's not always clear...or even nice it seems. But it's thought provoking, I think.

I recommend the "Attendance" and "WWJD". Let me know if you give a crap after you watch it.

The Lake House

So when this blog was started, I said I do movie reviews. I've only done one. And I've seen dozens of movies since that one. Well, I watched one yesterday. The Lake House. An excellent film -- based on a Korean movie from 2000.

Without ruining the plot -- and really because it can't quite be explained, nor should it be, it just needs to be accepted as it is -- I won't get into the storyline at all. But it's sci-fi romance. It's Frequency meets Sleepless in Seattle. And it deserves your time.

I will use the movie to stand on a soapbox. It was a lachrymose (GRE word!) movie -- even for me -- a guy. And I'm not usually one for maudlin (another GRE word) entertainment -- and much of today's entertainment is. This wasn't. This was well-written; this was well-acted; this was well-directed. And it reflected what love is.

Guys: you can enjoy a chick flick without feeling emasculated. It doesn't infringe upon what makes you a "man". There's more than just beer and football in the world. And if my wife can freely sit (and by free I mean the libertarian definition of human freedom) on a Sunday afternoon and watch football with me without turning into that Dairy Queen commercial, then I have that same right. Not in "you scratch my back I'll scratch yours" stereotypical sort of way, but that things in life don't have to be demographic specific like they want you to believe.

Anyway, the movie was great. I started to cry a little by the end. Maybe that makes me a girl. Maybe it doesn't make me a man.

The thing of it is: I do feel pretty today. Oh, so pretty. Wonder why that is?

A Christian And A Comedian

Watching Studio 60 this past week, heard a particularly engaging quote: "So you became a Christian and a comedian at the same time?" In the context of the show, it was a particulary astute observation.

It got me thinking about another quote: Joy is the gigantic secret of the Christian. I've always maintained that God has a sense of humor (and no, not just because he made the Platypus. But seriously, it is pretty funny looking). And what if, when you become a Christian, you also become a comedian?

Much of the debate of Christianity's rationality revolves around questions like the problem of evil. And those questions are all well and good and have their place in discussion and questions of its validity. But sometimes I think it casts a rather ominous shadow around Christianity. You see humor and joy and laughter is what Christianity's all about. Those characteristics echo deeper in us than any suffering and any pains. They have to.

I've always felt Christ had a sense of humor, a sense of joy. Look at the Road to Emmaeus; look at the Feeding of the 5,000; heck, when Jesus appears in the Upper Room -- he had to know he was going to scare the crap out of the disciples and there's nothing funnier than a scare or fright that turns out to be a good thing.

Maybe this sounds like the last two pages of Orthodoxy. So be it. But in being a Christian you have the supreme responsibility to bring joy to others and I read this as: to make people laugh.

The thing of it is: Whether or not that means you're actually funny is another question entirely.

The BabyMoon

So the wife and I just got back from our weeknight away. We headed up to Amish Country for a night at a castle. Yup. A castle. I've attached some pictures of Landoll's Mohican Castle so you can believe me . Our room was outstanding and just being together was wonderful. It was the first time since our honeymoon 4 1/2 years ago that we took some vacation time where we didn't go see family or friends.

Now the buzz word for this trip is a BabyMoon. Much like a honeymoon, except you take it before the baby comes, so it's not really like a honeymoon. Whatever it is called these days, it will be remembered by us as a lovely weekend.

The thing of it is: The Miller Suite, where we stayed, provided courtesy bathrobes. I tried one on -- because I've been accused of being an anti-robe-ite -- and hated it. I reiterate: they're stupid, useless pieces of fabric that offer us nothing in the way of making our lives better.

On Life Imitating Art

Every now and then you come across horrible stories. Like today's on the shooting in Florida. And this one mirrors a story I've recently read. Not verbatim. But there are enough coincidences.

The story I'm reminded of is by Flannery O'Connor, a 1950s southern writer known for some rather dark tales (of note: the link I've provided classifies O'Connor as Southern Gothic. Is there a Gothic for each of the four cardinal directions? Or does it eventually break into states, like Idaho Gothic? This is why I need an MFA, to answer these questions). If you haven't read her, I recommend the selected readings on the right -- excellent work. She's a bit of a paradox, but very interesting.

Anyway, the story I'm referencing here is: A Good Man is Hard to Find. Rather outstanding, I must say; in light of the news, rather scary.

The thing of it is: does life imitate art or is it the other way around? It's the age-old question pondered by the pre-Socratic, and, alas, has no answer. Also an age-old question with no answer: Where's Waldo?

Bathrobes

Apologies to Jerry Seinfield, but what's the deal with bathrobes? I don't get it. Perhaps for the woman, it is necessary. Modesty is an issue. But for the guy? No excuse.

Not only are they some type of oddly made coat, in that it comes down to your knees, but there are 3/4 sleeves. Seriously, guys, 3/4 sleeves? And, really, how difficult is it in the morning to get out of bed and throw sweatpants on, or yesterday's jeans (you'll be wearing them to work anyway) or a sweatshirt? It takes the same amount the time. You are invariably warmer and it serves the same purpose -- whatever that is. And it's more comfortable. How, you ask? For starters, you don't have 3/4 sleeves. Also, and this is important, you don't look like a fool.

It's about time we did away with bathrobes. It's a stupid, antediluvian (can you tell I'm taking the GRE soon?) concept.

A Piece Of The Problem

So I'm currently taking a graduate class in the problem of evil. Let's just by me electing to fully share these thoughts -- knowing my audience and my incoherent thoughts -- I am keeping you all from experiencing pain and suffering.

However, sparked by a recent post on this blog from an old friend, my memory has been jogged. Seems I've always had a fascination with the subject material I am now paying (or work is paying) to learn more about. About 10 years ago now I wrote a short drama for a church service. Composed on a Saturday afternoon in the fall with nothing else to do (we don't like college football in my family -- it's stupid). The main objective of the script was to startle the Sunday morning congregation. That consisted of my brother standing up and chucking a piece of fruit at my head while I was reading from Galatians, on, well, obviously, the fruits of the spirit.

From there the dialogue and ideas are very rough, but basically, it was the theodicy of a 17-year-old. I'm not tooting my own horn here, but I must admit the insight, as rough as it was, was interesting though sophomoric. Not saying I could write anything as lucid as it these days -- my mind clouded by the likes of John Hick, Alvin Plantinga and others, which would invariably lead to the lack of clarity in the drama should I re-write. Here's the link if you want to read it; scroll to the bottom and note this isn't the original version at all -- it's been adapted many, many times for the good of all. By the way, it's called: Peace of Fruit. You like that don't you.

The thing of it is: We completely scared the Sunday morning congregation. Our church was prone to drunks and the like wandering into the service and yelling. About three men in the brass band behind me leapt to their feet only to see it was the pastor's son doing the yelling. And, also, being the exceptional athlete I am, I caught the fruit.

Questions For Dad

So the little one has past the 17 week mark. The Mrs. has started to feel the baby move. Apparently, our child doesn't like seat belts very much. Also, this means that the baby has the ability to hear the two of us. An idea and realization that is not lost on me. But I wonder if the baby has any questions for us. I suppose the situation is similar to my Questions For God...questions that baby would want answered when it gets here. Of course, I don't expect such questions to be as erudite (there's a GRE word) as mine were. Still, they may have their merit.

Based on the fact that the Mrs. is usually eating a pickle or two during Seinfield re-runs at 11:30, one question could be: What's the deal with the pickles?

Since I watch a lot of baseball -- especially in October -- another question may revolve around why Tim McCarver is such a buffoon. Although, I was really hoping FOX would bring back Scooter this year to explain what a curveball is to my unborn child who may be the only person who doesn't know what it is. But, alas.

Perhaps a third question would allow me to answer a question I have. Since I golf quite a good deal, I would not be surprised if, somewhere in the womb, lies the answer to my slice.

But amending that Questions For God post, I'm sure once the baby gets here those questions would disappear in an instant (and that's too bad because I could really use the golf advice, it's killing me), much like it will when we get to heaven (though I think that BlowPop question might nag me on into eternity). There'll be too much else to take in. Too much else to try and grasp. I know I have a lot of questions for the baby (and there's a pickle question in there). Questions I know will disappear in that instant.

All That Jazz

So I have frequently maintained the existence of God in this blog. And in doing so, frequently asserted His love of music. Now, I am once again going to use a musical analogy to assert the existence of something divine, namely miracles.

Much has been offered both for and against the idea of Miracles in our lives. And, indeed, while my explanation isn't on par with those authors (perhaps even borrowed from someone else seeing as how I don't think this to be an original idea), I do believe it is satisfactory for the everyday man.

God is a jazz musician. That would explain the existence of miracles in a world I claim to be indeterministic. It explains the gist of the argument: how God can seemingly intervene in this world without upsetting the free-will balance. Right?

Well, it does and I think God is a good jazz musician. I particularly enjoyed the guitar riff during the 2004 ALCS. Didn't see that one coming (Yes. That's been replaced by a humbling blues tune this year).

Also, the upcoming birth of my child will most certainly be a wonderful piano solo (Yes. I know. Childbirth doesn't fit the strict definition of miracle).

Anytime a medical miracle occurs, well, I'd have to say that would be a bass solo. Why? Because bass solos resonate. They shake us. Medical miracles shake us. Fittingly, then, the Great Physician is a wonderful bass player. Probably the upright bass -- you can't perform those miracles sitting down.

And drum solos. Those are the everyday miracles that we don't notice or don't seem like miracles and only later, after everything's settled, we realize how it all worked.

While God is a jazz musician. I also maintain he loves rock music, especially just before lunch time and during the seventh day; obviously classical music, i.e. at the creation of the world; perhaps a good waltz around every sunset.

The thing of it is: God doesn't like opera. Look what happened when God tried to sing opera. Ouch.

NOTE: I know the clip is in Spanish. Fast Forward to about 2:00 minutes into the clip for my point. Sorry. Sometimes you can't find everything on the web.

Sing-A-Long-Songs

So now that everyone knows the Mrs. and I are expecting our first child, I've got a request. We've decided that rather than buy one of those CD's that plays popular tunes sung by someone other than the original artist that are easy to listen to for babies -- we'd like to create our own. Essentially: a lullabye mix tape. Of course, it won't be an actual tape, rather a playlist on my iPod.

So I'm looking for songs. To give you an idea of the type of artist and song you would expect to find on this playlist: Jack Johnson, Billy Joel, James Taylor. Sadly, there won't be any Pearl Jam, CCR, Wilco and the like. It's all got to be music that's easy on the ears, positive lyrics and something the wife and I could listen to over and over again without becoming sick of it (as is the case with children, they love repetition).

Hit me with your best shot. Fire away. I'll let you know the final list.

Studio 60

It's the best new show on T.V.. And there are a number of reasons for that, reasons that come before actually watching the show and reasons that incredibly clear after watching the show. For those of you who have not yet seen it, I will tell you why you need to see it, and for those of you who have, I'll tell you what makes it so great.

REASONS WHY IT WOULD BE GOOD
1. Aaron Sorkin is writing the show. He's created it. And NBC's been plugging that. How often do they plug a show by the creator? And mention him by name (a la: "From the producers of Friends and Mad About You")?
2. There isn't a show like it on T.V. -- in premise that is. Always a good sign for a new show, it's not trying to make a stale formula work, it's its own mixture.
4. Extremely good actors. Always a positive to bring, while not superstars, actors who bring something to the table.
5. Did I mention Sorkin's writing the show?

REASONS WHY IT WILL BE GOOD
1. Aaron Sorkin is writing the show. Having watched it with this in mind I couldn't quite remember what I was missing with him not being around (he left the West Wing which was terrible after he left). Then I watched the show. And remembered.
2. It's intelligent. Sorkin doesn't pull punches with topics, but I feel he gives them a fair treatment, even if he doesn't agree with them. He shows difficult issues the respect they deserve. Not easy to do in 41 minutes of T.V. that has to keep people interested. Actually, it's pretty impressive.
3. All the characters are strong characters. There's no weak character, no comic relief. Each is already quite developed and rounded -- though this does not leave them without their flaws, not easy to write in when dealing with such strong characters. Especially his female characters, all very, very strong -- in every show he's ever done.
4. It challenges you to think. NO SHOW ON TV DOES THIS.
5. Did I mention Sorkin's writing this.

So give it a chance. It's not like anything you know -- not even like the West Wing, it's much different in tone which is good lest it be like the West Wing and not it's own mixture. Let's just say that I stopped watching any and all dramas on TV once Sorkin left the West Wing because all others are formulaic.

Choosy Moms Choose JIF

It's not exactly a crisis of faith, or even my "dark night of the soul", but it's just after 6 AM and I'm blogging. Seems I've been struck with this realization (coming after I realized I shut the alarm off on the Mrs., making her late for work) that I may very well be becoming a determinist. Of course, this thought struck me after I had spent most of the night dreaming about my brother and I swimming underneath a plane traveling along the water getting to land in Washington state and me feeling terrible about losing his Blockbuster card. All that to say I'm not sure how valid this idea is but it was certainly worth me working it out.

I've long struggled with the free will vs. determinism debate. As my dad said long ago, there are times when both are valid and provide comfort. And I like that idea (does that make me a compatibilist?). Most of the time I've fallen alongside the free will-ers. Asserting this point of view better equips me to explain, for instance, the problem of evil - arguably the most difficult problem facing the Christian (outside of homoousis -- an idea I can't even touch in the middle of day with a full night sleep and dreams of sugar plum fairies behind me).

However, the thought struck me that I have become a determinist. For example, there are several rather large decisions facing me in the coming months (work, kid, school, whether to be a Red Sox fan) and my general attitude seems to be one of "well if it's to happen, it will". That's not to say I've not try to take control of any of those decisions, but still, the prevailing belief is not to spend time in such decisions - to assert control (whatever that means) in making them. Four or five years ago I would have prayed long and hard about such decisions (not that I'm not praying about them now) and spent time trying to discern God's will. Now, I'm not sensing that I am doing that well enough; so I fear that has made me a determinist. Such a paradigm shift has allowed me to see how one puts such a belief into action (again, when deciding which side of the debate to come on to originally, the idea of putting such ideas into practice was challenging). Fixing the problem is easier: spend time in prayer, spend time with God, read the Bible, etc. It's the realization that is eye opening (I say that not just because it's after 6 AM and I'm blogging).

The thing of it is: If I hadn't have come to such an awakening, would I be the type of dad that would just choose any type of Peanut Butter? Or would I use my free will and choose JIF? So let's just say I'm glad, for my kids sake, that I've identified this now and rest assured, my kid'll be eating JIF.

Fixed the Problem! Here You Go!

A Thought

I remember where I was five years ago. The world remembers where it was. It is a day, a time, an event we will not forget. Words and even memories can't summon the emotion of that day.

I offer these words to a song by Sandra McCracken:

To the ones left behind who are picking up the pieces
of planes, bombs, and buildings of innocence and evil
‘Cause when the news and noise and flowers die,
and you still wake up alone
There is a God who knows every tear you cry,
And this world is on His shoulders.

Perhaps it may bring you comfort when your memories and thoughts of 9.11.2001 do not.

The Video Montage

Of course I was watching the premiere of the NFL season last night (In Hi-Def too, I might add -- it looks absolutely incredible!). First, you should know I'm riding the Daunte Culpepper Train in Fantasy Football this year. So I might be bitter throughout the season. Perhaps Nick Saban shall be his Virgil and lead him and the Dolphins to Paradisio (of course, like Dante, to get to Heaven you must go through a cold and frozen Inferno that bears an awful likeness to Foxborough in January.)

Second thing of note: Does anyone remember how to make a successful video montage? Pink? That was terrible. Just abominable. And nothing against rap music, I like a good rap song. But rap doesn't work in the video montage. Here's why: the song needs to build. It needs to drive. Rap songs don't do that (except on rare occasions; read: Eminem). You need a classic rock song. How about The Who classic Baba O'Reily (Yes, before it was the theme to Without a Trace, it was an actual song)? How about Rebel Yell by Billy Idol (I'm sure he'd love to be popular again)? Heck, even Styx's Come Sail Away would be better than Pink.

The thing of it is: Is this a lost art? Am I wrong? But I love a good rock song and it seems, like for video montages to start the game, a good rock song from years gone by (when they were making good rock songs) couldn't be a more perfect fit.

Oh No She Didn't!

Perhaps this bothered no one else: Did you notice Katie Couric was wearing white yesterday? After Labor Day?

Show's you how much I care about the news by the fact that this is the one thing that has stuck with me since yesterday.
But, again, Katie was wearing white!!!! After Labor Day!!!!! Barbara Walters wore white today too...apparently in solidarity.
But you can't tell me it wasn't done on purpose with Couric? That no one thought of the old wives tale? Something was up with that choice.

The thing of it is: investigating this idea would've been the most interesting thing on the newscast. Evening news is done. Why wait until 6:30 to get my news (and there was very little of it in the show) when I can get it at 3:30 on-line and it's much more complete. Plus I don't have to sit through the newscast either and hear what I want to. It's worth thinking about.