The Old Blog

Take that, Adam Sandler. Sixteen high school workers–15 “lunchladys” and a custodian–won half of the $190 million Powerball Jackpot Sunday evening. This is a touching story in itself, but it really hit home to me because it occurred in Holdingford, Minnesota, where my mother’s family grew up. In fact, given the ages and longevity of some of these women, my mother is sure a couple of them served her lunch when she was in school.

Regular readers of the blog may remember that I took a trip to Holdingford in August for my grandfather (and former mayor of Holdingford)’s funeral. It is definitely a “small town;” the population is less than 1,000. Holdingford has also been described by Garrison Keillor as the most “Lake Wobegonic” town.

And now it has probably the highest concentration of millionaires per capita of any town in the country.

Rod Roddy died yesterday of colon and, surprisingly, male breast cancer. He may have been freaky looking, but there was nothing I cherished more on those days I stayed home from school sick than watching The Price Is Right.

We loved you Grady, oh yes we did,
Then you pulled Pedro, you should have hid.
Why not take Embree, the strikeout kid?
Oh Grady, you dipshit.

Tom Candiotti proves why he should never be a manager in the sidebar accompanying the article.

Let’s take a look at what he said:

Little decided to sink or swim with his best pitcher on the mound. He went with the unquestioned ace of his rotation. How can you argue with that?

It’s easy, I open my mouth, and something that makes sense comes out. If the unquestioned ace of your rotation is obviously tiring, and you have two red-hot relievers in the bullpen, you go with your head, not your heart.

It’s too easy to second-guess after the fact.

That’s true, but millions of people across New England (myself included) were yelling at Grady when he made the decision, when Pedro came out for the 8th, when he gave up another run, and when Grady visited the mound without taking Pedro out. This wasn’t a questionable decision that was second-guessed in the papers, this was entire barfuls of people wondering what the hell was wrong with their team’s manager as the game occurred.

When your best pitcher tells you he can go back out there, you take his word for it.

Bull. Shit. Any ace pitcher would say they want to stay in. Who wouldn’t want to throw a complete game to beat their arch-rival? As manager, it’s Grady’s job to make the tough decisions, to say, “good game, Pedro,” pat him on the butt, and bring in a reliever.

In hindsight, Little could have pulled Pedro a batter earlier

In foresight, most of Boston wanted him to pull Pedro about 5 batters earlier.

But if Boston fans had to go back and do it all over again, I think they’d be happy — or at least take their chances — with a three-run lead and Pedro on the mound, five outs from the World Series.

They didn’t want to take their chances the first time, why would they now, especially when they know that Pedro will lose?

It’s one thing if you leave your No. 3 starter or a setup reliever in the game in that situation. But this was Pedro. I can live with him not getting the job done.

You know what Red Sox fans could live with? Beating the Yankees, no matter if it was Pedro, Alan Embree, or Jeff Suppan who finished the game.

Adrian Wojnarowski makes public the latest Grady Little joke:
Did you hear how high the grass has grown on Little’s lawn this summer?
He didn’t know how to pull the starter.

Congratulations to the Florida Marlins, the 2003 World Series Champions.

Further congratulations go to my friend Georgy, who is the only Marlins fan I know.

Just when you thought John “The One-Armed Bandit” Silber was easing out of the picture at Boston University, the BU Board of Trustees is set to reverse their decision to give presidency of the University to Daniel Goldin, former head of NASA, and ostensibly surrender it back to Herr Silber until another replacement can be found.

Goldin repeatedly said that he would only become president if he had to share power with chancellor (how nazi-esque a title can you have?) Silber. When they chose Goldin, Silber stepped down to “president emeritus” (read: I still get lots of cash, I still have a big say in what the University does, but I had to change my business cards).

The reason for the change of heart? According to the article, “Some veteran trustees feel that Goldin, 63, has proved unreasonable and unyielding.” Because, you know, Silber was just a warm, smiling, yielding ray of sunshine throughout his reich reign.

Despite Silber “stepping down,” he still controls BU. The Board of Trustees were also worried that Goldin “sought to sideline” Silber. Heaven forbid the new president of BU be allowed to make up his mind without consulting the old, crippled one.

I know all those 80s movies made it seem like the head of every college was an unfeeling, corporate asshole whose main goal was to keep the student body down, but in the case of BU and John Silber, it is absolutely true.

A Rolls-Royce with pinstripes. You might as well paint lightning bolts on the Mona Lisa.

Former President Bill Clinton’s William J. Clinton Presidential Foundation has negotiated an agreement with four pharmeceutical companies to produce low-cost AIDS drugs for people in poor African and Caribbean countries who suffer from the disease.

In other news, Dubya doesn’t care, as evidenced by his belief in “abstinence-only” education and his incredibly ignorant stance against learning about condoms and sex in public schools.

Mel Gibson’s Jesus, Jim Caviezel, was struck by lightning during shooting of Gibson’s controversial film “The Passion.” The film, which will be shown in Aramaic and Latin without subtitles so nobody can understand the dialogue, has come under fire for reportedly being anti-semitic.

This might seem like a funny, isolated incident, except for the fact that one of Gibson’s assistant directors, Jan Michelini, has also been struck by lightning on set–twice. Do you think God is trying to tell Mel to stick to the “Lethal Weapon” franchise?

Men’s Health just named Madison, Wisconsin the healthiest city in America for men. According to their article, “You can go an entire day without seeing fat people in Madison.” That is technically true, but it only applies if you’re blind.

Last time I was in Madison, I had a bacon cheeseburger, a beer (only one; I was driving), and deep-fried cheese curds. I saw plenty of hefty wannabe football players, coeds stretching their thongs in ways they should not be stretched, and more edible dairy products available than you could imagine. As much as I’m proud of my Midwestern heritage, I can’t believe it is the healthiest place to live.

According to the rankings, Minneapolis and St. Paul, two other Midwestern cities, are 5th and 14th, respectively. I’m thinking that Men’s Health used a faulty rating system. Whenever I fly from Boston to Minneapolis, I can tell which gate I’m supposed to stop at by all the overweight people sitting and waiting for the plane. That’s not true when I fly from Minneapolis to the East Coast.

14 Croatian toddlers ganged up on one and bit him 30 times while the nanny’s back was turned. Reminds me of the Compsognathus scene in the novel version of Jurassic Park.