Second Effort

I have no time to give this the write-up it deserves, but writers and drug enthusiasts everywhere in mourning. Dr. Hunter S. Thompson apparently shot and killed himself at his Colorado “compound” over the weekend.

Take your pick for the story here.

There’s not much I can say that hasn’t been written in the few short hours since his death, but Thompson has been an influence in my writing for some time and will remain so. He was a sports writer by trade whose creativity made him a cultural icon. He is certainly someone I will look up to throughout my career. If you’ve not read any of his books, use this as an excuse.

UPDATE: I thought some of you might be interested in Hunter’s final column for ESPN Page 2. It is, as ever, brilliant, hilarious, sickening and foul. Here it is.

Also, I received an e-mail from a long-silent friend in the wake of HST’s death. He is perhaps the most Thompson-esque writer I have ever had the pleasure of editing and phrased sentiments on the passing very well, I think: “It is a sad day. A writer who often wrote what needed to be written, expressing the indignant offense at it all, as he did, is rare. He saw America for the truly beautiful, ugly, wonderful, horrid thing that it is. I feel even worse that my response is a selfish one: I am upset that there will no longer be anything new of his to read.”

Indeed.

Those of you who tired of my baseball posts will be sorry to hear that pitchers and catchers have officially reported and the season is now under way. Those of you who aren’t big losers should know that I’m already thinking about the sunburn I’ll have on June 13th.

Yesterday marked my four-year anniversary with Sara. The first two years we made a point of escaping to celebrate the occasion, once to Davenport and once to Minneapolis just for weekend trips where we didn’t have roommates on the other side of paper-thin walls. Instead we had complete strangers on the other side of paper-thin walls, and that made it somehow more romantic.

The last two years reality has set in, neither one of us can really just take off in the middle of a week…or in my case even for a weekend when there’s so much wrestling to enjoy. There’s nothing like cauliflower ear on anorexic boys to make a weekend complete.

Last night, however, we did get out for a minor celebration. Being the sweet guy that I am, I came home with a letter and some roses (which they rape you on anywhere near Valentine’s Day). We went to Los Portales for dinner and margaritas; I had the huevos rancheros as usual. Mexican restaurants are the only places I have a regular order, I love the huevos that much. Sometime I’ll order it in a decent restaurant, they’ll make it authentic instead of the americanized shit that I love, and I’ll throw a fit.

Anyway, typically the service in these little places we go to (there are about 75 of them in the Cedar Valley with the same menu) is excellent. Last night was no different, but the waiter made me nervous nonetheless. When he took our orders, he literally filled up a page on his little pad for each of us. I’m not exaggerating. Our order consisted of this:

Sara: I’ll have the No. 1 with chicken instead of beef. Choice of rice or beans? Rice.

He writes for three minutes. Sara and I sit uncomfortably looking at each other. Now my turn, huevos rancheros, I pronounce with some reservation.

He turns the page and writes for another three minutes. All the while I’m thinking to myself that the guys is either giving the cook strict instructions on how to poison me with bodily fluids or a complete descriptive bio on who the order is for. This would be better if I had learned the Spanish translation for “portly round-faced boy with goofy chinstrap beard in a huge purple button-down shirt and khakis.”

Either way, the food was good, as was my massive margarita. Onward we went to the Old Capital Theatres which is, as Sara pointed out, the only movie theatre you can go to in Iowa where the kids at the concession stand are reading Tolstoy behind the counter. We are currently making our Oscar preview rounds and after seeing Natalie Portman tantalize us in Closer last week, this time we were in the mood for a boozy buddy road flick and saw Sideways.

Two movies in a week with a cast of four, two movies that, in my humble and expert opinion, kicked major ass. How Paul Giamatti wasn’t nominated for an Oscar, I have no idea. But award bullshit aside, this movie can turn a guy who mildly enjoys a little bit of vino on occasion into a full blown wine freak. As sexy as Portman was describing her personal flavor to Clive Owen, Giamatti and friends may have topped her in their exuberance for pinot noir. We went directly home and split the second half of a bottle of Penfold’s Cab Merlot, though I’m sure Giamatti’s Miles would not have approved. “If anybody orders merlot I’m leaving. I am NOT drinking any fucking merlot!”

This movie really did have everything. A depressing overtone, of which I am fairly fond and makes the highs higher and the funny moments funnier. And there are some funny moments that I promise will make you laugh out loud. For one of my favorites, go to the above linked website, go the Life Uncorked section that shows 5 brief vignettes. I dare you not to laugh your ass off at the fourth one entitled “Golf is a gentleman’s game.” The fifth one is great too.

Anyway, four years and our final February anniversary are behind us. I don’t want to get too sappy, but for your entertainment I just want to share with you one of Sara and my favorite Sunday morning activities, one of the reasons I love her so much. We lay round and watch the food network and make fun of the show hosts. Actually, I make fun of the hosts, Sara mostly laughs and tries to defend them.

There’s the crazy ass crack fiend; the freaky big-headed Italian lady and the mangyna lady who claims to be married to a dude, but hangs out with a gay couple 99% of the time. I swear this one used to be a man. I swear.

Note the man hands.

The best way to delve back into this topic, I think, is to reply to some of the comments made yesterday. First, I think that when talking about Pierre Pierce, the phrase “their asses would be black and blue” should be avoided at all costs. And the Cardinals are going to suck shit.

Second, and more importantly, I will try and save the soul of my quite clearly disturbed and confused uncle Drake, who insists on using all caps for his comments. Let me preface this by saying that just because I’m about to rip you in half, it doesn’t mean you are excused from commenting, you should more often.

ANY COACH WORTH HIS SALT SHOULD NOT HAVE TO TELL AN ALL BIG TEN PLAYER OR ANY ONE PLAYING DIVISION ONE BALL NOT TO FOUL IN THAT SITUATION. AS I SAID, IF YOU ARE SMART ENOUGH TO REALIZE IT, I WOULD HOPE TO SHOUT THAT ANYONE TALENTED ENOUGH TO GET TO THAT LEVEL WOULD AUTOMATICALLY KNOW THAT

The main flaw with your argument here is that you are placing some kind of misguided faith in Pierce. I would argue that getting to that level doesn’t make you a good or smart basketball player. I would argue that men who make it to the next level have shown they can be equally if not more stupid than Pierce was in that Northwestern game. And most simply, I would argue that any expectation for a so-called man like Pierce to be “smart enough” not to make such bonehead plays is flawed inherently. We are talking about a person who thought it was a good idea to shove his wiener in a girl’s asshole. He has no credibility in the intelligence department, let alone the personal responsibility department. From what I have read in this latest incident, Pierce was removed from his girlfriend’s apartment (she now says she is NOT nor was she ever his official girlfriend) by the police after getting a little physical. He waited in his car to see the police off, then returned for what was the eventual basis of this investigation. That means he sat there, let’s say tentatively for a few minutes, and thought it was a good idea to go back into an apartment which he had just been tossed from by law enforcement, rough up the girl who had originally called for help, apparently threaten her with rape, bust up her shit and take her computer. So he sat there, probably in his caddy with shiny rims, and had time to consider whether this was a good move on his part. So I guess, Drake, if we were talking about any other athlete other than Kobe Bryant or Lawrence Phillips, I could see where your argument is coming from. But with these kind of guys, expecting them to be “smart enough” in any way shape or form is just plain stupid. Maybe you’re an optimist.

As for the personal responsibility remark, which I have already alluded to, you’re right. And for the most part, the players did own up to it. Horner, for instance, looked and sounded like he had just pulled a Kingsbury and pissed in the middle of the arena. What baffled me was Alford didn’t take any personal responsibility of his own, he laid the loss squarely on the shoulders of his players after a devastating loss. Even if he wasn’t at fault, he should have tried to lessen their load; that’s what a good coach does.

I WILL CONCEDE TO YOU THAT ALFORD IS ONE OF THE BIGGEST REASONS HE WAS STILL AROUND AND NOT PUTTING WOMENS UNDERWEAR ON FOR BUFORD AT THE STATE SUBSIDIZED FORT MADISON RESORT

Ah, both funny and true. If for no other reason, like, I dunno, never making the NCAA tourney, Alford is to blame for the Pierce situation in and of itself. He recruited him, he defended him once, and he put him on the court in a gold and black uniform. And now I am hearing that Pierce had some similar run-ins with the law in high school. He didn’t even get to walk at his own high school graduation because he was constantly in some kind of trouble. I just don’t want those guys playing for my team, rapist or not. Let’s say I could wipe out the memory of all this shit over the last two and a half years. I still wouldn’t want that little bastard in Iowa City.

You don’t have to “buy into” my theory that the coach is 100 percent responsible. For one thing, it isn’t a theory, it’s certifiable. I have no problem blaming a loss on Kirk Ferentz like I did at Arizona State this year, and almost did in the Bowl Game. They nearly lost because they sat on a lead. I would have blamed that on him. Instead I get to blame our win on Nick Saban, who put some dipshit on the field that didn’t realize the Hawkeyes needed to score on that last play. And that’s a lot more satisfying. The coach is ALWAYS ultimately responsible for what happens on the field. But you take the good with the bad, and that’s not hard to balance with Ferentz. Where’s the GOOD with Alford?

And yes, Ferents would have done better with the ISU teams that McCarney has. He’s that good. In fact, HE DID THAT. Remember the 1-10 year. Ferentz brought in the talent despite that. He recruited better, and that’s the responsibility of a coach as well.

But you get credit for quoting Cheech and Chong.

“Yelk for Heisman” wins funniest comment of the day, however.

Now, onward. The baseball fans in Cedar County have been waiting for my response to Sammy’s departure from Chi-town. I actually got disappointed e-mails that I wrote about Pierce instead. Exactly what people want me to say other than YIPPPEEEE, I’m not sure. Now that he’s officially an Oriole, we can call him what he was. A cheating sum’bitch that we tried to rally behind. Steroids, cork and a boombox in the locker room make for a hard teammate to tolerate.

But I will admit, watching him slap one out last summer was truly awesome. I feel good about the Cubs, but being the believer in a coach being ultimately responsible that I am, there’s certainly room to worry. If they can him at the break, though, we might have a shot.

So I am back to a pretty decent mood after the recent “blogs of misfortune,” and this being a drinking night, I am in even better spirits. Soon I hope to be bathing in spirits.

But before I wrap up this monster of a blog, I have two things to relay to you. In the midst of the depressive goings on over the last month I had one more log to toss on the fire. I got my first annual loan repayment statement. It would have been nice to look down on that piece of paper as something accomplished, but as I studied it for minutes on end, I notice that my ending balance happened to be precisely $5.30 more than my beginning balance. Sara and I conferred and agreed that it must be a mistake. No such luck.

Upon calling the Nazis in the federal government, I was saddened to find that I actually had some kind of interest fee that had been building since my freshman year that is finally applied after the end of your first year of payments. I forget the term. But what it comes down to is this: After a year of making my minimum monthly payments on time, I owe $5.30 more than I did when I started. Uplifting, no?

Finally, speaking of uplifting: I went o see the movie “Closer”last night on rare night sans basketball and wrestling. I can’t really make this clear enough, but the scene with Natalie Portman as a stripper, in and out of her thong, makes the movie worth admission price. But the dialogue drove this movie, and for a word/movie geek like me, that’s what you’re looking for. Also, the Damien rice song “Blowers Daughter”, which you can listen to on the above linked site, is very fucking cool. I will be purchasing it as soon as possible.

Appreciated all the comments yesterday, Cards fans nonwithstanding. Thanks, it makes me want to write more, so please keep it up.

OK goddamnit! I know you’re all clamoring for my response to the Pierre Pierce debacle. And it’s coming, I wrote a column about in Monday afternoon when the turds were just starting to hit the fan, so I’ll tag that on to the end of this post. There’s more to come, I promise. But I have actually been working a fair amount of my days away the past few weeks which is why the blog has fallen silent. In the meantime, I came across this lovely little blast from the past. Forget everything I said about Pierre, he’s damn near prophetic! Honest to jesus, the first four lines of the above linked story go just like this:

“Silky-smooth Pierre Pierce is a player that loves to have complete control at all times and be in charge. Signing with the University of Iowa made it a perfect fit for the 6′3″ combo guard.

“At Iowa they like to have guards control the tempo and have them create plays–create the offense,” said the athlete supreme, Pierce. “I like to be in control and I feel that Iowa will allow me to do that.”

Boy did they. I know, I don’t know whether to laugh or puke either. There will be more tomorrow, for now I leave you with my column written on Monday under the headline: Sad Era in Iowa Sports About to End.

I’m a prophet too, bitches.

One year ago I wrote an open letter to Bob Bowlsby expressing my disappointment in the Iowa men’s basketball program. The fact that they weren’t winning was the least of my concerns. Players were fleeing, flunking out of classes and continued to get in trouble with the law.

It was one of my more controversial editorial columns since taking this job and brought on a fair amount of backlash. I was prepared for that; I can hardly blame fans of the Hawks who want to believe Steve Alford and company will right the ship, that Pierre Pierce isn’t the shady figure he is often made out to be, and that this columnist has no idea what he’s talking about. I don’t blame you, I just think you’re horribly wrong.

For what it’s worth, I can tell you that Mr. Bowlsby did respond to my letter and we exchanged e-mails in the days following. He asked that I not share his comments, but I did offer this space to him as an opportunity to respond to my column and directly to you, Tipton Conservative readers. He declined, and I don’t blame him. There wasn’t much of an argument to be made.

One year later things look even more bleak. After a very impressive start, the Hawkeyes seem to be collapsing in the Big Ten season once more, sitting at 3-4 in the conference after the win over a beat up and depleted Indiana team on Saturday.

I was prompted to revisit this issue because today rumors are swirling that Pierce has once again found himself in a precarious position with the law. I have to emphasize, these are just rumors and honestly, I have my doubts about their validity. If they are true, however, I can’t say I’m terribly surprised.

But rumors aside, let’s take a look at the direction of the Iowa program. In the past week and a half they have lost two overtime games. First, to top ranked Illinois. OK, I can see that as a positive sign. Then to the dregs of the Big Ten, Northwestern.

Anytime a team loses two overtime games in a week, it’s fair to assume there’s something wrong in the coaching department. But the way the Hawks lost those two games is even more convincing. Sure, it’s easy to blame Pierce for fouling on a three-pointer in regulation or for throwing the ball away with 7 seconds left. It’s just as easy to blame Jeff Horner for all those missed free throws.

Yeah, that’s easy, and that’s exactly what Alford did after the game. He even blamed Greg Brunner after what was arguably his best game as a Hawkeye.

There was a timeout just before the Pierce foul at Northwestern. Alford didn’t even approach his team during the break, instead he argued with the official and talked to his assistants. All any coach worth his salt had to do during that break was walk into the huddle and tell his players NOT to foul in that situation.

Before the Pierce turnover in OT, why wasn’t there a timeout called? Iowa had 3 at the time with just over 8 seconds on the clock; it would have given Alford a chance to draw up an inbound play that would have likely sealed the game.

As for free throws, I’ve argued this a hundred and one times. But missed free throws at the end of a game are as much the fault of coaching as they are the individual who missed. Shooting, no matter the circumstance, is a skill that can be taught. Alford still ranks among the best shooters in the history of college basketball but his team is either unprepared for the pressure of that situation, or just aren’t very well coached in the art of free throw shooting.

No matter how you slice it, Pierce and Alford are giving Iowa a black eye and it embarrasses a lot of Hawkeye fans. Others choose to overlook it.

When I attended an Iowa women’s game a few weeks back, several athletes were honored at halftime and members of the Iowa men’s team came out and sat next to me in an open slot in the stands. I was disgusted and little bit frightened to see teenage girls flock to Pierce for an autograph as soon as he sat down. For one thing, there are better players on that team from which to get a signature. More importantly, this is not a guy young people should look up to. And in my opinion, he’s about the last person I would encourage a young girl to be around.

We’ll see how this round of rumors pans out. I hope he hasn’t hurt anyone else, but I’d prefer to not see him soiling the glossy finish in Carver Hawkeye either.

If you treat me right and leave a comment or ten, I’ll share some of Bobby’s comments from last year with you tomorrow. For now, I’m OUT.