Sh*t We Don't Understand: The Beach

Memorial Day is approaching, and with it the unofficial start of summer. Cue the flocking of people to shore towns all over the country for some good old-fashioned fun in the sun. Come Thursday we'll be inundated with "MDW...going to the BEACHHHHH!!!!" Facebook statuses. I'm sure all things Memorial Day and beach-related will trend on Twitter as well. While I'd be either out of my mind or downright inhuman to not welcome the beginning of summer with open arms, I'm going to have to get on the soapbox for a few minutes. If someone wants to sit me down and explain it all to me, then they can surely go ahead. But I just don't get why the beach is apparently so awesome.

You know that feeling you get when you're at some place and everyone else seems to be having a lot more fun than you? I hate that feeling. It's like you're at a party that you weren't invited to, a feeling rivaled in suckiness only by that of being sober in Philly's Olde City on a Saturday night. That's the feeling I get at the beach. Every time I've been there in my adult life, I've wished I were somewhere else. Someone had to finally take this stand. Kevin, John, and I originally planned to publish a roundtable-type discussion on this topic a year or so ago, but circumstances prevented it last summer. Now that the matter is relevant again, I can no longer wait. Having lived in New Jersey my entire life and spent the summers of 1989 through 1993 exclusively at the shore when my parents owned a motel in North Wildwood, I consider myself as qualified a judge as any.

Let's first get it out of the way that I don't hate the beach. I just don't love it the way so many people seem programmed to. I've had my share of fun on the beach in my life, but here's the thing: all of the actual "fun" things that there are to do on the beach can basically be done anywhere. What do I want to do if I find myself on the beach (besides the requisite ogling like any man is wont to do)? I want to throw a baseball or football around, get a game of wiffle ball going, read a book or newspaper, maybe listen to the iPod, take a quick dip, etc. Take any of these activities away from the setting of the beach, and guess what? They're no less fun or enjoyable. You can swim in a pool, you can play ball at any open field nearby, and you can read or listen to music basically anywhere. Is there anything inherently fun about the beach itself? To get to the beach, you've got to sit in traffic, find parking, overpay for the parking you find, deal with all the Ronnie and Sammi clones running around (although I'd find the real thing thoroughly enjoyable), and, most of all, immerse yourself in sand and the stench of seaweed all day. There are other ways to enjoy the outdoors and get a tan, people. Unless you aspire to be a fragrance millionaire, there are very few activities for which the beach is actually an immediate prerequisite.

But some people may say to this, "Wait a second, going to the beach is about enjoying putting your toes in the sand and being able to lay there and do nothing all day and listen to the crash of the waves! It's so great!" No, it's not great. I'm sorry, but sand f*ing sucks. It gets everywhere and makes your skin bone-dry. And doing nothing all day? Well, that also f*ing sucks. I'm not burning my free time just laying in the sun when I can be actually doing things in the sun. That eloquent crash-of-the-waves soundtrack? It's likely going to be drowned out by a mixture of seagulls and little whiny kids begging their parents to buy them an ice cream sandwich. Maybe I just lack the ability to turn my mind off like that, but I'm irked by people who are able to just lay there on a beach doing nothing without ever feeling supremely bored.

Some people may also say "Well, of course you don't like the beach that much. The Jersey Shore is a dump anyway." I can't disagree with that, but I would offer the rebuttal that I've set foot on some exquisite beaches in North Carolina and Cancun (which had blue water, I shit you not) without ever getting that overwhelming feeling of awesome that I'm apparently supposed to. When I was in Cancun on spring break in college, the novelty of it being 85 degrees out while it was 40 degrees back home wore off in about half an hour. Yet somehow the group of 16 girls we were on the trip with religiously laid out there, hour after hour, day after day, like they were auditioning for a Corona commercial. Meanwhile the rest of us guys hung out at the poolside bar getting to know people from all over the country, one tequila slammer at a time. I'd like to think the latter is a much better way to spend a trip than basically sitting in an outdoor tanning bed for 5 days.

One of this blog's values is that we'll give you our straightforward, (relatively) uncensored opinions and in the next breath acknowledge that those opinions aren't necessarily gospel. The reader can take in whatever we have to say and make what they want out of it after that. I'll freely admit I have more than my share of anti-beach biases. Like I said before, I spent five full summers at the shore as a kid and hated the fact that I was away from all my school friends. Even worse than my well-documented disdain for sand is my inability to avoid getting horribly sunburned. For a while I dated a girl who, despite an apparent love for laying on the beach and being a complete waste of humanity for hours on end, shifted her bitchiness into 6th gear whenever we were actually there. And finally, if I'm at the beach then there's a fair likelihood that I'm missing a Yankee game, which is a huge, huge strike from the get-go.

I leave you this evening with the reminder that no, I do not "hate" the beach (at least, not as much as this guy does). I just don't love it. For the record, I very much enjoy living in a coastal state and couldn't imagine living in an area of the country that would require a plane trip just to see the ocean. But this whole idea of "ohh I really need to go to the beach, I hate the winter because I can't go to the beach, I can't exist without the beach, blah blah blah" that you see so many people conveying? It just strikes me as utter nonsense. You know that Jimmy Buffett quote "if there is a heaven for me, I'm sure it has a beach attached to it" that you saw displayed on every single girl's bedroom wall or AIM profile back in college? Well, with due respect to the mayor of Margaritaville and his devoted Parrotheads, I ain't buying that. You know what, hold that thought for a minute. Maybe my heaven will have a beach after all - as long as there is a golf course and a casino attached to it.

Wake Me Up in a Month

Coming up tonight, on TNT: Overmatched Team A tries to steal a playoff game from Juggernaut Team B! And if they do so, don't miss the next 6 months, during which Team A will try to sell its fanbase on the idea that a 5-game playoff loss is a successful season! Be sure to treat yourself to this compelling melodrama, the only thing more viewer-enticing than Charles Barkley doing a Sodoku puzzle!

I've tried. I've tried and tried and tried and tried. I've picked a few teams I wanted to root for and against. I've set aside time to watch games. I've even gambled on a game or two (note to the Blazers: putting a hand in a guy's face is not only allowed, but it may actually make your opponent's shot more difficult. Try it sometime.). But I just can't get into the NBA Playoffs until the Conference Finals at the earliest.

With rare exception, the NBA's first two playoff rounds are brutal. When you think "playoffs" in general, you think of a heightened level of competition and intensity that is not found in the regular season very frequently. You think of hot underdog teams making the odds-on favorites sweat. The NHL, NFL, and MLB deliver on this more often than not. The NBA? Eh, not quite.

Why? Well, for starters, too many teams make the postseason. When a league sends more than half (16 out of 30) of its teams to the playoffs, it's begging for mediocrity. For instance, the Indiana Pacers, for all their pluck and relative likability, wedged themselves in as the 8-seed in the Eastern Conference with a 37-45 record. Give me a break. That's like a 73-win baseball team playing in October. Now, I know I'm walking right into it because the NFL saw a 7-9 playoff team just last season, but this sort of thing happens almost every year in the NBA, while the 2010 Seahawks were the first sub-.500 NFL team to ever make the playoffs in a full 16 game season.

Couple the overload of teams with the fact that the first round is best-of-7, and you've reduced basically the first two weeks of the postseason to a formality. You know what else makes the other three major sports' playoffs great? It's the fact that if you're in it, you've got a chance to win it. Baseball only sends 4 teams per league and is possibly the ultimate playoff crapshoot. The NFL has seen two #6 seeds in the past six seasons win the Super Bowl, as well as several other #6 seeds reach the AFC or NFC Championship in the past decade. The NHL playoffs routinely see upsets and edge-of-your-seat Cinderella runs, thanks many times to the all-powerful "hot goalie" equalizer. Equalizers are hard to come by in basketball. The best-of-5 opening round used to make for some compelling series - who doesn't remember the image of Dikembe Mutombo after his 8th-seeded Nuggets stunned the Sonics in 1994? Unfortunately, since playoff gates, parking, and concession sales are too much to pass up, all rounds are now best-of-7. Not only does the 7-game format make it significantly harder on the underdog, but the multiple off days between games are a momentum-killer in addition to making the series take for-ev-er. Of course, it is possible to get a big upset (see the 2007 Warriors-Mavericks first round) or a terrifically played series (i.e. the 2009 Bulls-Celtics series that I linked to previously), but memorable moments in the NBA's early rounds are much, much scarcer than those in the other sports.

What you need to win 16 postseason games in the NBA is three or more elite players and/or a great defense. So that boils it down to maybe 4-5 teams that have a legitimate chance to be the ones standing at the end in mid-June. In about half of these early series, the favored team only needs to shift it into high gear when absolutely necessary. Defense is optional. The opening round is turned into more of a tune-up than anything else, almost like a top college football team opening its regular season with a small-conference or FCS school. You know how baseball has extended spring training for injured players and/or slow-to-develop minor leaguers? More often than not, the first round of the NBA Playoffs is just an extended regular season.

And those are just the on-court issues. Arguably the least bearable element of the NBA Playoffs is the coverage. TV and radio heads go blue in the face breaking down these series, which I suppose is understandable. What is bothersome is a channel like ESPN constantly pumping up its own NBA coverage in an attempt to boost ratings for the games that it carries. I don't need Sportscenter cutting away to the side studio every 6 minutes to pore over a mid-April playoff game where one team is happy just to be there. I also don't need Mike and Mike, who sometimes provide a listenable morning radio program, being force-fed for 9 weeks a guest list of stiffs like Tim Legler, Jamal Mashburn, and occasionally even Dick Vitale, all of whom -you guessed it- studio analysts at ESPN. The hosts have a comfortable, if not cliché, dynamic to their show. Mike Golic plays very well the role of "ex-lineman who is the butt of jokes about being fat and dumb," while Mike Greenberg holds his own as the "wimpy, somewhat dorky lifelong fan who could never really make it onto the field." It's unfortunate to see them constantly being put out of their element by endlessly pining over a sport they don't know that well, all seemingly under the direction of the mother ship.

Besides the relative pointlessness of some of the early round games, there is also a monotone nature to a basketball playoff series that makes it excruciating to break down game-in and game-out. In football, games are once a week, so opponents, locations, and conditions are constantly changing. In baseball, every game is its own entity - the pitchers are different every night (which often brings about significant lineup shifting), and the parks provide unique dimensions, weather conditions, and even rule changes (i.e. the DH or no-DH in the World Series). Leaving hockey aside (since we're not clubbed over the head with hockey coverage in this country), football and baseball warrant the ad-nauseam playoff talk. Basketball? You're often looking at the same starting fives night after night, playing in standardized atmospheres (now that the Boston Garden and its famed dead spots on the floor are long gone) where most of the time the only variable is home-court advantage. Is there an interesting dynamic to see how teams may approach defending and attacking each other differently on a game-to-game basis? Sure there is, but not to a level that justifies the skull-numbing NBA playoff coverage from all angles.

The long and the short of it is that bigger is not always better. The NBA appears to be learning this lesson now. I've written on this topic before. Too many big guaranteed contracts, too many teams, too many playoff teams, and in turn too many playoff rounds and too many playoff games have watered down the product immensely. The league's labor situation after this season will likely end up even more dicey than that of the NFL. Now, I don't want to full-on blast the NBA, because at its best it's a great product. In recent years the NBA adopted the slogan "Where Amazing Happens." Well, amazing does happen. But you've got to wait a month or so first.

What Do You Want to Be When You Grow Up?

It's the age-old question presented on a pretty regular basis to anyone under the age of 13. What do you want to be when you grow up? It's quite possibly the first real thought-provoking moment of a kid's life when he or she gives the question an honest answer. What do you want to be when you grow up? Ironically, in many ways the answer to the question does more to define the person you are at that instant than it does to define the person you will ultimately become. What do you want to be when you grow up? The answers to that question often define a generation. What do you want to be when you grow up? In post-WWII America the popular answer has gone from firefighter or policeman, to astronaut or President, to actor or ballplayer, to rock star or comedian. What do you want to be when you grow up? You find the answers to this question often without even asking it; all you need to do is look at the posters that line a kid's bedroom walls. What do you want to be when you grow up? In the '50s and '60s it was Mickey Mantle, JFK, and Jim Morrison. In the '70s and '80s it was Mick Jagger, Joe Montana, and Farrah Fawcett. In the '90s and '00s we had Michael Jordan, Britney Spears, and Mike Myers. But I wonder, who's tacked up on the bedroom walls of young people today? What do they want to be when they grow up?

Before I get too deep and/or nostalgic here, allow me to tell you what my point is. Look at the handful of names I threw out off the top of my head in the previous paragraph. All of those people were, at one point or another, at the top of the line in their professions. Not all of them were saints; in fact, many of them either had some questionable habits or found themselves immersed in some sort of controversy. But at the very least, they earned their keep. They did their jobs and did them extremely well. Compare that to today - how many people do we see being richly compensated for what frankly amounts to a job poorly done? And (this is slightly tongue-in-cheek), is it close to reaching the point where making a fortune for either doing nothing, or merely doing nothing well, becomes the new American dream?

It wouldn't shock me to hear kids today say "I want to be the CEO of a failing corporation when I grow up!" I'm writing this partially in light of the news that BP CEO Tony Hayward is headed out the door, and is still in line to collect the the equivalent of nearly $18 million in salary and pension. Funny thing is, the loot that Hayward will receive is a pittance compared to champs like ex-Merrill Lynch CEO Stan O'Neal ($161.5 million including securities and benefits as a thanks for driving Merrill straight into the teeth of the 2008 credit crunch) and ex-AIG boss Martin Sullivan (a package valued anywhere from $35 million to $60 million). The list of similar golden parachutes goes on and on. These guys make JaMarcus Russell (sorry Kevin) look like a lunch pail-toting, hard hat-wearing union laborer.

Although I could go on about the severances given to Wall Street bigwigs who did nothing but make bad decisions and lose money, we've all heard enough about it by now. It's not limited to inept CEO's and NFL draft busts. Remember Anucha Browne Sanders? If the name sounds familiar, it's because in 2007 she got over $11 million from the New York Knicks in a sexual harassment suit. Let me make it clear that I'm not condoning harassment of any kind, but still, being talked to inappropriately by Isaiah Thomas for a few years is not worth $11 million. Take also, for instance, the recent case in Sea Isle City, NJ, where a family was awarded over $500,000 from the police department alone in a racial-bias lawsuit involving the school's treatment of one of their children. I'm sorry, but unless the details of this case come to light and are shockingly beyond what they sound like, whatever happened can not be worth over half a million dollars. $100k I can see, but once you get into the $500k range you're likely going to cost several township employees their jobs so the lawsuit can be paid.

The maxim in this country used to be an honest day's work for an honest day's pay. More and more, the maxim is shifting to getting something for nothing, or at least getting way more than you deserve for doing relatively little. We're heading toward people's goal in life being to get paid handsomely to suck at their job, or to be somehow wronged by a well-heeled party that warrants a big lawsuit. So, I ask, what do you want to be when you grow up?

You're Not Wrong, You're Just an Asshole

A few of us (actually, all three of us, Kevin, John, and I) were holding court over a few Guinness on Friday night and happened to see the clip of the most recent Carlos Zambrano dugout escapade, which took place during that afternoon's Cubs-White Sox game. Long story short, Zambrano got torched for four runs in the first inning and blamed it on first baseman Derrek Lee not diving to stop the grounder down the line hit by Juan Pierre, a grounder that became a leadoff double. A few snap judgments from this situation:

-Number 1, if a slap hitter like Juan Pierre pulls you down the line, it's on the pitcher, not the fielder.
-Number 2, I could almost understand if there were two outs and runners on base when it happened and Pierre's hit directly led to runs, but he was the leadoff man. Go earn your money and pitch around a leadoff hit like a #1 starter is supposed to be able to do.
-Number 3, it's idiotic to call out your fielders when you get hit the way he did in that inning. Kinda tough to catch the baseball when it's careening off the wall or landing 10 rows deep in the bleachers.
-Number 4, I'm not against confronting teammates when you feel their effort is lacking. It's been done effectively before. But keep it out of sight, and especially out of camera view. Players never win by showing up their teammates publicly. Coaches can do it occasionally (just ask Todd Haley, who practically owes his head coaching job with the Chiefs to a well-publicized sideline spat with Anquan Boldin in the NFC Championship Game), but even then it's not exactly advisable.
-Number 5, if you are going to try to use this type of motivation on your teammates, your performance itself had better be exemplary. Everyday players hardly ever want to hear it from a pitcher, so you can imagine what it feels like to be berated by a guy who had just nudged his way back into the starting rotation after an early-season bullpen banishment.

This is hardly the first time that Big Z has blown up like this. In fact, when we first saw the highlight, we weren't sure if it was something that happened that day or if it was a replay of a prior fracas. Zambrano has had several good seasons, yes. But recently he's gotten more publicity for his big mouth than for his big arm. You know how certain guys such as Derek Jeter, Ichiro, and Chipper Jones are known as the face of their respective franchises? Well, Carlos Zambrano has taken another big step in becoming the face of the Cubs franchise, and these days that's no compliment. Right now he is the portrait of overpaid and underperforming, of too much flash and too little substance. The Cubs have been a hot mess since the end of the 2008 regular season, and what they have in star power they more than match in volatility.

It's an interesting dynamic. For generations, the Cubbies were lovable losers, a team known as much for billy goats, black cats, and ill-fated foul popups down the left field line as for Ernie Banks, Harry Caray, and Ryne Sandberg. Now, judging by their record, the Cubs are certainly losers, but they are anything but lovable. Maybe it's the undue amount of attention they still get nationally. Maybe it's the fact that seeing Alfonso Soriano swing at (and try to pull) every freaking pitch gives me flashbacks to some of his prolonged slumps from his Yankee days. Maybe it's the party-first, baseball game-second atmosphere that's become prevalent at Wrigley Field. Or maybe not. Maybe we wouldn't be so quick to criticize all aspects of the Cub teams of recent years if its $18 million a year starting pitcher would ever learn to keep his mouth shut and stopped doing so much to turn his team into the media's canteen of water in the desert of the 24-hour news cycle. Oh well. I'll look at the bright side - as tired a story as a Carlos Zambrano controversy is, at least it takes a few minutes a day away from any more talk about vuvuzelas or LeBron sweepstakes speculation.

The Anti-Soccer Rebuttal

Allow me to first make myself clear. I don't hate soccer. I certainly do not like soccer, but "hate" is not exactly the right word. I don't hate it. I just don't buy it. I never got very much into it as a kid, and at my ripe age now, there probably isn't much hope (kind of like how I am with Star Wars, sorry John). A big part of it stems from my growing up in a decently yuppie town and going to school with kids who thought they were tough shit because they played soccer, even though the truth was that 80% of them wished they could play football but their parents wouldn't let them. From an early age, soccer became known to me as the sport you played if Mom was too scared of you getting hurt if you strapped on the good old helmet and shoulder pads. I have many reasons for my disregard of soccer, ranging from the gameplay itself, to its fans, and to greater societal implications drawn from its following here in the United States. While my viewpoint may be somewhat unpopular right about now, just hear me out.

Part I - The Game
I'll start with the on-field stuff. Does it take a tremendous amount of skill and athleticism to play soccer at a high level? Of course it does. However, does that fact alone obligate me to take an interest in the sport? There is also a tremendous amount of skill on display in a sport like archery, as well as an insane amount of toughness and conditioning on display in MMA, but that doesn't mean I'm making plans to watch either of those anytime soon. The issue here is that the display of skill in soccer pales in comparison to the display of skill in the sports that are prevalent in America. Tell me, do you see anything on a regular basis in soccer that is on the level of hitting a 95-MPH fastball, threading the needle to a receiver in traffic while getting your clock cleaned by a 280-lb defensive end who runs a 4.5 40, draining a 3 with a 6'6" defender's hand in your face, snatching a 90+ MPH slap shot out of the air with the glove hand, or sticking a 190-yd 5 iron six feet from the pin? Sure, there are diving or leaping saves and well-executed sequences of passes and shots, but how often do you get those - once or twice a game? The other 88 minutes amount to a ballet, and on a side note I think I prefer ballet costumes to the stupid sponsored jerseys that professional soccer teams wear. Call me a curmudgeon but I kind of like the outlandish idea of a team's uniform prominently bearing the team's name or city.

Contrary to popular belief, the lack of scoring in soccer is a non-issue to me. I love low-scoring baseball games and even low-scoring football if it's played crisply. It's not the lack of scoring in soccer that irks me, it's the lack of structure. Two of my three favorite sports (baseball and golf) are often derided (by soccer fans, ironically) and labeled "boring" for their deliberate nature. But let's be honest, soccer ain't exactly a 10 on the heart-thumping scale either. The pace of soccer is so monotone, it allows for very little of the dramatic buildup you get in the other sports on a big 3rd-and-goal, a 3-2 pitch with bases loaded, or even the final sequence in a one-possession basketball game. A soccer game plays out like some kind of amoebic stream of consciousness. My favorite part of being a sports fan is trying to manage or coach along with the game as I watch. American sports fans value the chess match of what play to call on 2nd-and-1 or 3rd-and-4, what pitch to throw in this 2-2 count, when to bunt or send a baserunner, etc. Soccer is too free-flowing to provide those fan-captivating moments of strategy.

Part II - The Fans
The out-of-the-woodwork soccer following that takes place in this country every four years for the World Cup is enough to put you off your food. Americans will get all juiced up for soccer for the next four weeks, packing the bars and pubs decked out in USA soccer gear like they a.) actually give a shit, or b.) can name 6 players on the team. You know what the fervor is really all about? It's about the drinking holiday. It's about having the popular excuse to go to a bar at 10am on a Saturday and howl away at odd chants and songs in an effort to pretend to be European. And when it's all over they'll go back to ignoring the sport for the next 47 months. So why not just be real about it? Are you really feeling that left out from the party if you don't buy into all the World Cup hype fed to you by ESPN? Kevin made an interesting point in his post (immediately below this one) that following soccer is not necessarily the cool thing to do in the country. But for at least these four weeks it is the cool thing to do, and the amount of people that are becoming temporary soccer fans in the US right now give me all the more reason to turn a deaf ear to the goings-on in South Africa. This would drive me up the wall if I were an actual legit soccer fan like Kevin is. The "four weeks out of every four years" soccer fan is akin to the "championship parade" fan who saw less than 50% of the games that year.

American soccer fans, even the reputable ones, are a unique bunch. Through my years I've never seen a group of people get so offended when you say you don't like their sport. Go and try it sometime. Tell an American soccer fan that you don't like soccer and he'll react like you just called his mother a slut. He'll undoubtedly launch into a sales pitch for the game and try to insult my sport-watching intelligence while doing so. "Oh, but you just don't get it, it's the most popular game in the world, you just can't appreciate it because Americans' attention spans are too short, blah blah blah...." Nobody else does this! Hockey fans don't do it. Auto racing fans don't do it. MMA fans don't do it. If someone tells any of those fans that they don't like their sport, the response is usually along the lines of "that's your business, not mine." What is it about being a soccer fan that makes you more defensive than the post-career Roger Clemens?

And by the way, can we put this "world's most popular" argument in mothballs please? We all know it's the most globally followed game. But does that mean it's a rule that I have to like it, just for that fact? You're in America. Soccer may be the most popular game in the world, but not in this corner of the world. Accept the fact that your beloved soccer is a second-tier sport in the country in which you reside. If you want to go somewhere where soccer really matters, then feel free to move across the pond. I'll even help you pack. If I happened to move to France or Spain, I'd have an easy time accepting the fact that baseball is irrelevant there. Sense of surroundings, people. Sense of surroundings.

Consider this: America is comprised largely of the descendants of European immigrants, yes? These immigrants came over several generations ago from countries where soccer was king. Over time, sports like baseball, football, and basketball came into the fold and took over in the still-young-and-forming-its-identity United States. Soccer fell by the wayside as alternatives were offered. America, thanks to its size and diversity, has had a greater sampling of more sports than most other countries, if not all. And America as a whole has chosen other options over soccer.

On a cultural note, (and thanks to our blog follower Tony for this one) earlier American generations embraced these new "American" sports in part as a way to carve an identity for themselves as US citizens and separate themselves a bit from the countries from which they emigrated. It seems more and more now that people in America try to embrace soccer as an effort to be anything but American. I'm not against being open to other cultures, but seeing people walking around in foreign soccer jerseys with those multicolored scarves that make you look like you belong on a coffee logo bothers me as much as seeing 4th- and 5th-generation Americans with tattoos and/or car adornments depicting their ancestors' home country. Pride for your heritage is fine, but going over the top to act like you're actually from that country when in truth your family has been over here for 120 years is not. You get that point because we've gone blue in the face illustrating it in the past, so no need to dive back in. But let it be known that soccer fandom in this country goes a long way in feeding the xenocentric beast.

In conclusion, I'm indifferent to soccer itself. I can't ever see myself spending time or money in an effort to follow the sport in any way, but I'm not exactly starting a picket line against its existence either. What I want is for it not to be in my face for maybe 4 months out of every 4 years in an attempt to make it relevant in my home country. Have all the fun you want with the World Cup, but do not call my sports aptitude into question for simply sticking to my ways and conscientiously objecting to the blitz of soccer hype. Please cool it with the crusade to try to instantly rearrange the pecking order of American sports. If soccer is ever going to be truly that big a deal in the United States, it is going to take a few generations, because the appeal of sports is very much a generation-to-generation handoff. And in the mean time, you're just going to have to live with the fact that "Dad, you wanna have a catch?" is much more American thing to say than "Dad, you wanna go out and take some penalty kicks?"

(image borrowed from ESPN.com Page 2)

The Man on the Left is Wasting Your Time

It baffles me that, with hundreds of options when it comes to what to watch on TV, enough people have tuned into a show like CSI: Miami to keep it running for 8 seasons and counting. Really, with all the shows and channels and forms of entertainment out there, this canned-ham cop show featuring David Caruso and his skull-piercing one-liners is that popular? This will not stand, man.

I feel for the people who are under the impression that these mass-produced, cookie-cutter cop shows are quality entertainment. It's like someone who drinks Milwaukee's Best and thinks it's good just because it's the only thing he can get his hands on. He doesn't know about Guinness, so to him the Beast is a way of life. Now, I've seen several episodes of each of the CSI series, and I'd be lying if I said it were an outright bad show. Hell, I'll even go so far as to say CSI: NY, starring Lt. Dan and that Greek chick who was in Rounders for 2 minutes, is actually watchable. But CSI, NCIS, Medium, The Closer, The Mentalist, etc. etc. are the television equivalent of cheap beer. They get the job done, but there's no lasting quality to it. Just like Natty is not Yards, none of these cop shows are The Wire.

If you want to see what well-invested time is, set aside 12 hours over the course of a week or two and take in Season One of The Wire. You'll be hooked after that, and you will thank me. You'll be wishing you could try to go shot for shot with McNulty and you'll have a totally new association with the name "Omar." Maybe even a small part of you will want to move to Baltimore and become a homicide detective or a drug kingpin. More importantly, you will no longer settle for the mediocre story lines and underdeveloped characters rolled out by the network cop show assembly line.

The Wire goes places that CSI wouldn't dare. Part if it has to do with it being an HBO show and having virtually no boundary on language/violence/nudity/etc. But even putting that aside, the show laps the field on its depth alone. The Wire, unlike all the others, does not keep its episodes self-contained; the seasons are a thick stew of plot lines revolving around the pursuit of one criminal outlet. That's my problem with the network cop shows - they cater to the short attention span. 40 minutes of show plus commercials are all it takes for the crime to be committed and the bad guy to be caught. It just doesn't happen that way. The investigations are so streamlined that it's a borderline insult to real life detectives and forensic workers. I'm sorry, but if you want real, that's not where you get it. And if you want characters, that's definitely not where you get them.

Since each of these cop shows are dedicated to solving the crime in the span of one episode, there's little time left over for developing their characters. It might take a full season or two to get a real grip on these shows' major players. Since The Wire doesn't follow self-imposed deadlines for what has to be accomplished in each episode, it can take the time to show you all there is to see about the good guys and the bad guys. It allows the viewer to create something of a relationship with each character, often leaving you rooting for the criminals and rooting against some of the men with the badges. That's what The Wire is really all about - duality. Every person has multiple agendas and every story has multiple sides.

You want a real character? How about a binge-drinking, womanizing, insubordinate murder detective who, in his sober hours, is the most gifted police in the city? Or how about a dope-fiend informant whose performance, wardrobe, and makeup were so good that he was mistaken for an actual crackhead on the set (go to the 1:20 mark of the video)? And how many shows give you a homosexual stick-up man who makes his living robbing drug dealers, yet will not use foul language or go after anyone who isn't in the drug game?

Like we've all said before in one way or another, the non-working, non-sleeping hours of the week are precious. All you can ask of yourself is to spend that time wisely. In certain ways, the old "you are what you eat" adage can be amended to "you are what you watch on TV." So if you want to be showered in half-ass entertainment, then Horatio the Orangehead Caine up there on the left is your man. But if you want to get into a show that will pay dividends on your time, then give our boy McNulty up there a spin - but you'll have to bring your own Jameson.