I first came across Deadspin on August 15, 2006. I was in my second tour of duty as an intern at NBC Sports and was still recovering from a freak “glass in the calf” incident. When surfing the world wide interwebs I stumbled across an article about “the real reason” Michael Jordan bailed out of Tahoe that year. The site it was on was one I had never heard of, but I read the “article” and then continued into the comments section. Instantly I was in heaven. It was filled with Simpson jokes, South Park jokes, and edgy humor. I immediately sent the site to the Chain of Gentlemen (back then it had far fewer subscribers, and regularly featured dirty words in the title that got Jim$ in trouble at work with the email police).

Deadspin is the godfather of sports blogs. Starting with Deadspin, I slowly started building up my daily blog portfolio, which was very tedious to keep track of what I read. Then came Google Reader, my savior, which I am not sure how I lived so long without. Now I read about 300 blog posts a day and it is my preferred method of keeping up with the world. Granted the world I am keeping up with is sports, technology, celebrity gossip, and in Tara’s words, cheerleaders. But in my defense, not all of the scantily clad women are cheerleaders.

Last month, Will Leitch, the editor of Deadspin released his book, God Save the Fan. Almost immediately he set off on a country wide book tour, the penultimate stop of which was at a Barnes and Noble in Tribeca. Much like a junior high school kid about to meet Hulk Hogan (or John Cena for middle school kids these days) I was excited to see him because he keeps me entertained on a daily basis.

Bloggers like to poke fun at themselves by talking about how they live in their parents basements and upon walking into the B&N that’s exactly what I found. As I stood there, however, I realized that is exactly what I was too. Living at home, in the basement, pretending not to be excited, and picturing the following conversation taking place:

Will: Hey, what’s your name?
Me: Nick
Will: Nick, nice to meet you, I think I would like to become your friend, we should go out for drinks afterwards to celebrate our new friendship. Then in the coming weeks we can exchange witty emails with the rest of the crew.

I was even prepared to drop the NBC Sports card somehow in case the above conversation didn’t take place as planned. Just after the stroke of 7:00, Will was introduced and I had the same sensation Moro must get when Terry takes over the shift at Fitzy’s. The first thing he did was telling everyone in attendance they were invited to a bar around the corner for drinks after the reading/signing (So it didn’t follow the above order, but I was half way there!). After a brief introduction, a couple of people from the audience participated in a reading of the John Rocker interview. This was followed a tightly moderated Q&A session ruled over by the Question Dictator with an iron fist. Then everyone lined up to get their book signed. I debated leaving right then because by that time I had already broke the news to myself that nothing was going to happen, but I stayed anyway. Here is the dialogue that ensued:

Helper: Would you like Will to personalize your book?
Me: Sure.
Helper: Who should he make it out to?
Me: Barbaro.
Helper: Barbara.
Me: No, B-A-R-B-A-R
Helper: mmmhmmm
Me: O
Helper: Ahhhhh BarbarOH
(Shuffles along in line, thinking of witty things to say)
Will: Hey
Me: Hey, nice to meet you
(Handshake)
(Will looks at name to sign. Laughs heartily)
Will: Ok what’s your real name
Me: Nick
Will: Well it’s nice to meet you Nick
(Will half extends hand, then retracts, Nick extends hand out of habit)
(Handshake number 2)
Me: That was a little awkward
(Silence)
Me: Soooo, how tired does your hand get after one of these things…
Will: Not more tired than a normal day
Me: I guess that makes sense with the typing and all
Will: Yea I use my hands so much these days…but I’ve already said too much
Me: Well that explains the strong grip…
(Finishes signing)
Me: Thanks, have a good one
(Walks out of store and straight to the train)

So there as you can tell Will and I are practically inseparable now. But you know what, it doesn’t bother me; my social awkwardness is well documented by now (see: I don’t even like Coke). It was cool to meet him in person and sure, I wish I could handle social situations better but what it comes down to is the quote above (circa 2008), It is all about being content with who you are, and I would take the Chain of Gentlemen over the blogosphere anyday.

So in conclusion, be comfortable in your own skin, and everyone is pretty cool in their own right. Except Long Island Douchbags. They should just kill themselves.

There is nothing I can say about the V-Tech tragedy that hasn’t already been said. As the days have gone by, the situation has become more and more surreal.

I was glued to the TV all day, so I was staying pretty up-to-date with the info. It was interesting to see how the information was traveling throughout the company. My bosses would come back from meetings and stop by with a twisted version of the old story. For example, when I said that Cho lived in Centreville, VA since he was in elementary school, everyone else thought he was a Korean immigrant straight off the boat.

The gun control debate that is going to spark from this is going to be enormous. The way I feel, what is the point of needing a gun? For protection. If no one was allowed to have guns who would you need protection from? Bad people will always get their hands on guns. But if you hold gun makers and law enforcement accountable for distribution….I’m not going to debate myself.

The multimedia manifesto delivered to NBC is absolutely ridiculous and makes the local authorities on the scene look even more inept. Some of the video and pictures were taken on Monday! (OK, I admit, it’s possible that he took the pictures and made the videos at and earlier date and used television production like magic, but he still had to mail it on Monday between shootings) In the manifesto he compares himself to the two guys from Columbine. How did he take these pictures and videos and print them out without anyone seeing any of this?

I was watching Hardball today, and it was hard to tell if Chris Matthews was asking stupid questions to cater to people who aren’t as informed or if he is just completely out-of-touch with everyday life. Some questions he asked include:
“What was it like roomating with Cho?”
“Have you ever heard of a kid who wouldn’t talk to you? […] If we had a roommate who never talked at all we would have asked for a new roommate.”
“I feel for you buddy”

As the minutes go by, I find it harder and harder to wrap my head around what really happened. There are a million questions that will arise from this that can’t be answered by a panel of professional analysts. I’ll end with this quote from the convocation speech:
“We are strong and brave and innocent and unafraid. We are better than we think, not quite what we want to be. We are alive to the imagination and the possibility we will continue to invent the future through our blood and tears, through all this sadness. We are the Hokies! We will prevail, we will prevail! We are Virginia Tech!”

For those people who, like myself, were glued to news reports this afternoon you already know what transpired. Personally, I am still shocked. I returned from class (like I always do) to a myriad of emails from the Marty’s. When I got to the one about a helicopter hitting a building in NYC, I immediatly turned on the TV. Over the course of the next two hours, I sat there through the everchanging plot created by the media; the helicopter changed to a plane; terrorist may have been involved, then they weren’t; two people died, then four people, then three people (and so on and so on). Then it came out that the plane was owned by Cory Lidle, a relief pitcher for the Yankees. Things escalated quickly from that point, and before long the “Cory Lidle is dead” reports were everywhere.

The thing that freaked me out the most was that he pitched on Saturday, and had the Yankees beat the Tigers, Cory Lidle might still be alive. I’m not gonna lie, usually I am one of the first five people to make a joke about a dead person, but today I didn’t really want to. Thankfully, most of the commentors on Deadspin ignored their conscience today. Deadspin.com is a great site for any sports fan. Besides reporting news, they provide links to tons of great sports entertainment, and most of all you can’t leave out the eccentric mix of knowledgeable and inconsiderate fans. Here is a small sampling of some of their comments:

• So I guess Thurmon Munson will be remembered as the 2nd worst pilot in Yankee history.
• The plane should have been carrying A-Rod…That way it wouldn’t have hit anything.
• The Yankees will do anything to keep the Mets out of the papers.
• Of course if this was TO, everyone would assume it was a publicity stunt.
• R.I.P Cory Lidle. Your 20.05 Post-season ERA will be missed.

This event is no question a tragedy, but is it fair that the sorrow was amplified because the victim was in the public eye? If Steve Porter (married, with a six year old kid) had been flying that plane, where would the media emphasis be? If that was the case, the terrorist storyline would still be prevelent now. I guess you just have to walk away from this with a better appreciation of life. Over 40,000 people left Tiger Stadium on Saturday not knowing that Cory Lidle would be dead in less than a week. Just goes to show you that no day should be taken for granted.

Life is a funny thing. If I can refer back to the Choose Your Own Adventure analogy, I can take that theory and break it down even further. Life is a series of moments pieced together. Kind of like a flipbook comprising of billions of photographs taken at each second of your life. Using such a comprehensive breakdown creates an infinite number of paths available to any given person. The best part is that these are not isolated routes, lives overlap lives which overlap lives. The guy who sat three rows in front of you on the train this morning might be moving to Alberquerque tomorrow to continue doing whatever it is he does. Remember that time you went to UMD and stopped off at the Maryland House to grab some Roy Rogers. There was that girl you allowed to get in front of you. (I think she bought a cheeseburger and a Coke) Four years from now you are going to be walking on opposite sides of the street in New York and you will never know.

What I’m trying to get at is how life is unpredictable. That’s not a bad thing though. It is this fact that makes it fun to get up everyday. The good thing about the game of chance that is life, is that the house doesn’t always win.

You have to look at life like a game of cards. The key is to not worry about the last hand you were dealt. That’s not saying it is useless. You can learn something from every hand. The trick is being able to make observations that you can use to your advantage later. Dwelling on the past will only hurt you. Every hand is a new hand and every day is a new day. Every now and then we are all dealt a series of bad hands. The key is to move on, and be patient because everyone gets a run of good hands if you wait for it.

As with a game of cards, in life if you don’t take risks sometimes, you’re not going to get to far. As Mike McD says, you can’t lose what you don’t put in the middle, but you’re also not going to win that much either. If you have a chance to stick your head out, sometimes it’s worth it. Sure there is a possibility that it could go up in flames, but at the same time it could lead to something special. Life isn’t always easy, but things that special seldom are.

Now back to the regularly scheduled lightheartedness:

Fact: I have had a vanilla frosty from Wendy’s three times since Sunday. It’s a little piece of heaven to distract me from this heat wave

Fiction: Fidel Castro voluntarily gave up power. Ok, so maybe I don’t have any proof of this, but the whole situation is suspect

Fact: I heart Degrassi. I find my self hoping that Peter’s DilEmma works out. I enjoyed Peter’s quote “I’d give it all, I’d give for us, give anything but I won’t give up” That’s a quality line.

Fact: despite that last entry I assure you I am not gay.

Fiction: Terry was once a normal five-year old child

Fact: At the age of five Terry had a full Grizzley Adams beard and walked around drinking Jameson straight from the bottle

Fiction: Peter is always winded

Fact: Mar is winded, Peter enjoys working hard and reaping the fruits of his labor

Fiction: I am excited for school to start

Fact: Excited doesn’t come close to describing how good it’s going to feel to be back at school. It seems so far away right now.

The human brain is an incredible thing. I have always been amazed at the way it works. If you think to yourself: “I need to pick up that pen so I can write things down,” you find yourself picking up the pen before you even finish saying the thought in your head. The speed at which pain sensors shoot emergency signals to your head when you try to take that little tray out of the toaster oven with your bare hands is unparalleled. But the thing that amazes me the most is how different all of our brains are. Some are good at math, others can hear music and instantly pick out the notes being played. Even the types of thoughts people have or how each person handles a situation is rooted in our brains. I find this extremely fascinating.

Some thoughts I feel however are pretty uniform. Things like:
Why am I me?
Why is my soul inside of this body?
Why can I see out of these eyes?
What is it going to be like to not be on the world anymore?
When I close my eyes for good, what is next for my soul?

Now I guess a lot of the answers to these questions can be answered by religious beliefs. But this is one of my points. By nature I am a very logical person. I can’t take every story I hear at face value or anything that is told to me on a daily basis for that matter. When I receive any type of information I run it through all sorts of filters, most of which I can’t properly put down in words so I’m not even going to try. I don’t even have to think about this process, it just happens. But allow me to drop this tangent and go back to the matter at hand.

Religion has always been a problem for me. I’m not going to lie, when I was little I never liked church. I thought it was long and boring and it prevented me from watching television or playing outside. Thankfully my family was not very religious and when I lived in the Bronx I didn’t go to church very often. As I got older and went through the machinations of communion and confirmation I found myself not really “buying into” the teachings of the church. I found out that a lot of past history, especially that which did not happen in front of a television camera, is all hear-say. History is written by the winners, or in some cases, the home team (see: Vietnam War teachings in High School). Personally I feel that if we can barely confirm history of the past 100 or so years, how can so many people be sure of what happened 2000 years ago?

It’s not that I have anything against religion. I admire people who are religious. I just have never been able to suspend my own logic for long enough to believe. I’m not saying that I don’t believe in God, I don’t know if I do or not. I’m sitting on the fence and until I see some proof, that is where I will stay. Now fate is another story. I would say I believe in fate, just not in the full extent. By saying that our lives are mapped out for us is basically saying that life is a giant Tivo’ed program. I believe more that everyone is given opportunities in their life and they decide what road to take. So I guess what I am saying is that life is more like a giant Choose Your Own Adventure book. Which is equally as silly, but I can live with that.

I can’t make a post with out some lighthearted content….
Originally my next post was going to be a mail chain showing just what kind of mind numbing stuff we email back and forth to each other all day. However, as I was editing all the emails (more than 500 a week) I found that it was about as fun as syphilis. So I gave up. I think we are going to hire some interns to go through this stuff one day.

Currently in the License Plate Contest I have taken the lead at a grand total of 41 after seeing Alaska at the Palisades Mall this evening. Tara and Amanda are trailing by a near insurmountable margin with a total of 40 and 40 respectively. Ok literally as I finished writing that last sentence I received a call from Amanda and I figured she would be commenting on the five-minute message I left her after I found Alaska…..But NOOOOOOOO she just found Kentucky so she and I are still tied. Ballacks.

You know what I would change about myself if I could? Whenever I am making a big purchase, for the story’s sake lets say it’s a computer, I usually fall in love with one specific computer. That computer becomes the apple of my eye. Salespeople can show me all sorts of other computer which I test drive and we get along fine, and I can admit that it’s a great computer, but it is still not THE computer that I am in love with. I refuse to give in and buy any of the other computers. And I know if I don’t buy the computer I love, I will spend my days wondering about the computer that got away. This goes back to that whole brain thing. Stupid sophisticated brain.

So way back on Belmont Saturday, before we got to the highway I stopped off at the supermarket so that I could turn my loose change into money at the coinstar machine. On my bookcase in my room I have a Wendy’s cup and that’s where I put all my change. However, apparently over the last year or so change is not the only thing I put in there. So as I am dumping change into the machine, even more is being dumped back out at me, it’s uncanny. Dmo and I are standing there and it looks like my money is being counted then spit back out at me, which sounds great until the machine shuts it self off. When the store manager walks over and opens up the machine all the gears inside are all jammed by all sorts of golf apparatus. The manager is pulling all of this stuff out and asking: “What is this stuff.” I, of course, am playing dumb and acting like I have never seen anything like this before. So he gives me the receipt, I get my money and get out of there as quick as possible.

The Hero Dies in this One

So back in December I got the great idea that I could write for the school paper. Not because I want to be a journalist, but because I guess I like to write. Plus, I’d like to think that I was funny and that would be a good way to find out. So I was set to try until I was told that the paper doesn’t work like that and wouldn’t publish my stuff, so of course I gave up my idea en un dos por tres, which in spanish translates into something like “lickety-split.” I had hoped that this post would be published:

Callipygian adj.: Having beautifully proportioned buttocks.

Back when I was wee lad of 17 and in high school, Rachel came up with this theorem: “The hot people, date hot people. The ugly people, date ugly people. And everyone in the middle finds no one”. At first I dismissed it as untrue and the only response I could muster was “poppycock”, but upon further inspection I realized she was right. Now I know what you’re saying, “I had a boyfriend/girlfriend and I wouldn’t consider myself hot”. Well guess what that means….You are/were ugly. Simple as that. Okay so maybe that was a little harsh. I beg your pardon, allow me to evoke the “nine times out of ten” rule. Nine times out of ten this is the case.

Now the question remains: Why are the middle-folk (for argument sakes, we’ll call us Normies) not able to find a significant other? The answer is quite simple, Normies refuse to settle. Upper class uglies tend to fall for Normies, but the Normies know they can do better. Eventually the uglies realize their situation and date within their own ranks and become happy. Normies on the other hand hold out for that ideal mate.

But some Normies have it worse. Some of us, such as yours truly, have fallen victim to the Piccinich Factor. (This of course is also assuming that I fall into the Normie ranks) This basically prevents us from initiating any sort of conversation with girls. Remember American Gladiators? I don’t think Nitro ever let the challengers get to the top of the wall. Mike Adamle and Larry Czonka both knew what was going to happen before the event even started. They could announce it with their eyes closed. This clairvoyance could also be used to dictate what happens when I go out.

MA: There goes Rick trying to talk to that girl.
LC: Oh man there he goes quoting obscure movies that no one knows.
MA: Ouch, a cutting sarcastic remark from Rick.
LC: Looks like she has given him the cold shoulder.
MA: Maybe his first mistake was walking over there with a Shirley Temple in his hand?

So now after years of rejection, I am tentative to make any sort of move. We’ll take LG for example. Now she has an absolutely breath-taking heiney. I mean that thing is good. I want to be friends with it. But will I ever get enough confidence to say anything? Of course not. And plus her boyfriend is a stupid wrestler who probably has herpes. But I digress, this is me venting.

I could go into about a hundred more situations and how horribly inept I am at them, this past weekend included, but that is beside the point. But I do know that if I hear the phrases: “I don’t want to lose you as a friend” or “I think of you like a brother” anymore I may just snap. They need to come up with some sort of medicine that suppresses emotional retardation. Then again said medication may be called alcohol.