10 March 2009

Conspiracy theory 1 - A-rod's 'surgery' is just an excuse to get out of the WBC, defuse the steroid controversy by not being available. Bet is that he will magically be healed well ahead of schedule and back at full strength by before 1 May. And really, steriods were only part of it. The other part are the numerous lies told after the fact. Co-conspirators? ESPN of course. MLB. Bud Selig. Hospital who performed the 'surgery'. Ken Rosenthal.

Sports talk radio sucks. Inevitable transformation from unique perspective offering illumination to corporate driven hucksterism. Studio hosts who are toadies for the teams who have teams on their stations makes me ill. In Chicago, there is originally left only in the voices of those who have no regular gig. Weekend hosts with nothing to lose. Nationally, at the top is Todd Wright, Winner Winner Chicken Dinner with David Stein. Jay Marvin. The late Bob Lassiter was in a class by himself. Art Bell. Phil Hendrie is in the picture and so is Tom Leykis. Unrepentent opinionators.

Ran into an old friend the other day on the El. She was with her boyfriend but stopped to talk long enough to catch up. Hate in-depth conversations on the train. Hate cell phone conversations on the train and refuse to answer mine. And what she said. And what she said was that life in her world wasn't the best. Wasn't even close to where she wanted it to be. She wasn't with the people she liked. Wasn't having fun. Wasn't at the job she wanted to be at and wasn't in the city she expected to live in for the rest of her life. But why then? It's safe. It's comfortable I guess, she said. I know I can look anytime I want, but I don't have to. 5 years down the road will we be together? No. Not likely. 10 years down the road? Maybe we'll get back together. I'll be close to 50 by then and it will feel right. But right now it doesn't. Nothing feels right except anger and bitterness. And it all leads to ennui. Call me ok? You have my number, right?

And off she went. Holding hands with her boyfriend as they walked down the platform in the cold snowy/rainy day/night of the Northside.