#TRYHARDSZN2024

Feels like it’s starting earlier than usual: two South Fulton teenagers accepted into 63 and 50 colleges respectively, trying really hard to not humble brag about it

It’s apparently already started, that time of year, in which throughout the country there are overachieving high school seniors who begin announcing, as loudly as they can on social media, just how many colleges they have been accepted to.  Some aim for the stars and only go for the cream of the crop like just the Ivy Leagues, and usually upper echelon schools like MIT, Johns Hopkins and Stanford, and then there are others who just apply for every school under the sun, as if there were no such thing as application fees.

And once the acceptances start rolling in, if the number is impressive enough, then onto the internets they go, boasting-not-boasting and humble bragging about how many schools they’ve been accepted into, with the hopes that some media outlet catches wind of it and puts any sort of spotlight onto them at all.

Of course, it can’t be ignored the dollar amounts of all these scholarships love to be extrapolated and added together, so that there can be somewhat of a tangible number to implement a degree of success and value of their accomplishments as a whole, and regardless of if and when they inevitably choose to go to whichever school is giving a full ride, no matter how lesser-heralded it may be, doesn’t change the fact that they put themselves into a position where they could brag about how many schools, simply said yes, you may attend our prestigious institution of higher education if you are willing to pay our egregious costs for credit hours, books, boarding and other bullshit expenditures.

But let’s get #TRYHARDSZN2024 off with a bang, with these two teens in my old stomping grounds of South Fulton county, which is the area’s PC way of lumping together the hood sections of the Southwestern region of the Metro Atlanta area.  But despite the fact that when watching the video in the article, there appears to be a whole legion of tryhards that have been accepted into 10-15+ colleges, these two particular teens who have hit 63 and 50 acceptances get the spotlight as being the biggest tryhards of the tryhards.

Sure, most of the schools that I was able to catch in the article are mostly smaller school, HBCUs, and schools nobody has really ever heard of, there were some notable Power-5 schools that have shown interest in them like Michigan State, Iowa, Kansas, Oregon and Mississippi State to name a few. 

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Of course it’ll be Duke that kills a tradition

Source: #8 Duke loses to unranked Wake Forest, students storm the court; Duke center Kyle Filipowski allegedly injured by fan during the mob, coach Jon Scheyer calls for an end to storming

The low-hanging fruit is that if Duke could just stop sucking and getting upset by lesser-heralded opponents, they wouldn’t have to deal with other schools’ fans storming the court on them.  Furthermore, we’re long past Coach K’s retirement and it’s apparent that Jon Scheyerface isn’t helming a perpetual national champion anymore, so if the NCAA could stop overrating the fuck out of Duke and having them in the AP Top-10 all the time, then maybe opponents will stop thinking they’re upsetting Goliath every time they eat another L, and fans won’t feel the need to storm the court.

Put me in the segment of sports fans that is particularly enjoying the new reality that Duke is far from the automatic win they used to be, and regardless of the diminishing importance of beating Duke is becoming, it’s always a pleasure to see them take a loss.

But here’s the thing, I can see where Jon Scheyerface is coming from, as well as all those who are in support of his remarks to plead with an end to court storming.  Just because it’s a long-standing tradition across the college athletics landscape, most notably in football and basketball, and just because it’s something that’s “always been done,” it doesn’t mean that it hasn’t ever been a potential risk to tons of student athletes and team and venue personnel, and it doesn’t mean it’s really ever been right.

It’s just that this particular season, there have now been two noteworthy incidents where players have gotten bodied by jubilant fans storming the court, where Iowa’s Caitlin Clark was trucked by a fan, and now Dook’s Kyle Filipowki* took a tumble and had to be helped off the court.  If there’ve been any other incidents in the past in hoops or football, none have really made the media such as these.

*which sounds about like the whitest name in the world, even for a Dook player

As traditional and exciting it is to see a court storming, it really is a recipe for disaster where it’s a miracle that things haven’t gotten worse than these isolated incidents throughout the years.  Hundreds to thousands of people, swept up in emotion and excitement of being on the right side of a victory, rushing towards a central point where there might still be opposition present, trying to process an L while going against the flow of human traffic; suddenly accessible when they typically aren’t, because a venue’s security has long since been physically overwhelmed.

The reality is that a court storming can happen at any point of a game, not just the finish, and there is literally nothing a venue could do about it.  There is nothing short of employing the Justice League to guard the access points to the court or field from being swarmed by hundreds to thousands of rushing human beings, and even the most imposing of security will get overwhelmed by a mass of people eventually.  Unless there is a ratio of security that is closer to 1:1 and not 1:500, court storming is literally impossible to prevent from happening.

It’s just that traditionally, there is an understood agreement and civility that saves court storming for upsets of heralded opponents.  Dook has done a good job historically, be it through their students, alumni, PR and brand management, of becoming the school that everyone loves to hate, and seemingly regardless of their rank or position in the NCAA rankings, has probably been the school to have to deal with the most number of court stormings against over the last 25 years or so, so in spite of my general disdain for the school, I actually do understand where the concerns over court storming come from.

Like I said, it’s easy to make the joke that maybe if they just stop losing, they wouldn’t have to deal with it, but the concerns and potential dangers are no less real when it comes to when it actually happens.  Frankly, I don’t think Filipowski was actually hurt as much as he was more trying to cushion his bruised ego for taking an L against Wake Forest, much like any player who gets rocked in any sport suddenly having an spontaneous injury announced afterward to try and salvage their ego.

But if court storming actually does have action taken against it, regardless of the fact that nobody can really stop it from happening, all eyes are going to be on Duke as the party responsible for attempting to kill a tradition that has been a part of college sports almost as long as the existence of college sports.  And as much as people who didn’t go to Dook generally revile Dook, this outcome would probably, undoubtedly make things much worse for them, and probably set up a situation where even more schools will feel the compulsion to storm on them if they ever lose in their houses.

Would be pretty impressive to be Kyle Filipowski, because it would most definitely put him up in the upper echelon of Hated White Duke Player history, with Christian Laettner, JJ Redick and Grayson Allen, but unlike them, it’s not because he was so good at basketball as much as he was trying to kill off a timeless tradition and change the general landscape of college sports.

Few things make me as entertained as professional athletes getting owned monetarily

In short: NBA player Tony Snell owned when nobody picked him up, denying him from hitting premium pension benefits; MLB player Blake Snell owned because nobody wants to sign him, among other notable free agents, despite being the reigning NL Cy Young winner

Man, there’s few things that are amusing to me than hearing stories about professional athletes who get owned, financially.  A bunch of out-of-touch grown-ass man-babies who didn’t learn how to manage their finances or don’t seem to realize the privileges they have getting paid egregious amounts of money for being exceptionally good at playing children’s intramural sports. 

And I love how the media feeds us these stories as if we should feel bad for these guys, as if we the regular people will be able to relate and agree that they’re getting screwed or something, by some evil employers and/or corporations.  Nuh-uh, doesn’t work that way, and I don’t think I’ll ever feel bad for any professional athlete not getting the six or seven figures-plus that they think they deserve, while short of me finding the recipe for instant money, I, or anyone like me, will never see seven figures at any point in our lives.

So let’s start with Tony Snell, the fringe basketball player, whom we’re supposed to feel bad for because no team in the NBA wanted to pick him up, and give him a 10th year of service, which would qualify him and his entire family for “premium” pension, which encapsulates lifetime medical for him, as well as his spouse and children.  It’s also pointed out how his sons are both on the spectrum, and made to sound like it’s a tragedy that no NBA team, especially a curated list of teams that had an available roster spot, would pick him up and let him ride the bench so that he could get full medical for his family.

Last time I checked, autism is not cancer, nor is something that is life-threatening, and isn’t something that only the offspring of professional athletes are subject to.  Millions of people across the planet are on the spectrum or deal with autism and they most certainly don’t have the safety net of insurance to help out with some of the nuisances that living with autism can cause, and Tony Snell having to deal with kids with autism doesn’t make him a tragedy, it just makes him like millions of other parents who have kids with it as well.

Furthermore, according to Spotrac, Tony Snell has made $52 million dollars in his career.  For playing basketball.  And that doesn’t include any endorsements or sponsorship dollars he might’ve made at various points in his career.  Even assuming that half of that was hoovered up by Uncle Sam, he’s still probably cleared $26M in his lifetime.  Most Americans won’t even see $1M in their lifetimes, and we’re supposed to feel bad that someone who’s cleared probably $26M isn’t going to get free healthcare from the NBA?  As the kids say, (get) the fuck out of here.

I also love the part where other like-minded snarks like me pointed out his wife’s lavish spending habits, showing where most likely the vast majority of his $26M+ fortune has gone throughout the last nine years, and why it’s likely that he’s reliant on premium healthcare in order to get some care for his kids.  I think it’s obvious where the problem really lies, and it’s not the cost of healthcare, it’s not awareness for autism, and it’s not the NBA’s current system that only allows the premium healthcare to those who can clear ten years of service.

Now on to Blake Snell, the pitcher, freshly removed from winning the NL Cy Young, which makes him one of the only pitchers in history to have won both an NL and an AL Cy Young, is still unemployed, even after Spring Training camps have opened across MLB.

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Catching up with Shoresy, saying farewell to Letterkenny

Recently, I’ve found myself able to catch up with season 2 of Shoresy, as well as the 12th and final season of Letterkenny, and seeing as I don’t think I really have a ton to say about either of them, and the fact that one is a spinoff of the other, it seemed appropriate to lump them into a single post and save myself the anxiety of making separate posts for every fucking show that I manage to catch up to.

So I’ll start with the final season of Letterkenny, and if I really had to boil it down to a singular statement, I would say that it’s about time that the series finally wrapped up, because honestly the series really could have ended in season 9 with the hockey story arc, which was probably the last time that the series really had any sort of centralized story, and wasn’t as randomly bouncing around like it were Canadian Seinfeld.

Season 10 was clearly designed solely to build up and soft launch the arrival of the Shoresy spinoff, but Season 11 had basically no point at all, and I’m pretty sure I compared it to Ocean’s Twelve, in the sense that it felt like it was a working vacation for all cast and crew, and they phoned in an entire season in the process.

Which brings us to Season 12, where little time was wasting in the cold open of the first episode that this was the end, which was about as appropriate as it could be, considering it was a series about small town Canada, so them literally running out of stories to tell seems about as appropriate as it could be.

It was a gallant effort to have at least some small stories, about Derry and the Degens, as well as a poignant reminder of small town living and feeling stuck in time, but at the same time, it felt like the show was trying to check off a list of characters to have some screen time in the final season, and considering every episode is just 22 minutes, it’s not a lot of screen time available to give, as well as tell a concurrent stories in the process.

The ending was chill and it did feel like there was some heart in it, but at the same time it felt very small and not necessarily fitting for a series that churned out 12 seasons.  For a series that had some really incredible culminations of storylines, this ending felt more like they ran out of gas as opposed to reaching a destination of a satisfying conclusion.

All the same, I look at the series with a general fondness, but it’s a lot like anime; really good when all cylinders are firing, but an ending that kind of feels lacking and unsatisfying.

Which brings us to Shoresy, because when talking about the shows together, I have this feeling that the decline of Letterkenny coincides with the arrival of Shoresy, because as Letterkenny limped their way through their final two seasons, the first two seasons of Shoresy were definitely above average in storytelling and general execution.

Upon the finish of season 2 of Shoresy, I’m left feeling wanting more, and looking forward to future episodes, because they’re telling a very linear and straightforward plot, and it feels to me that both Keeso and Tierney definitely shifted more and more of their eggs from Letterkenny’s basket to Shoresy, and with Letterkenny concluded, the sky’s the limit for the future of Shoresy now.

There’s definitely more heart and emotion put into a lot of the characters of Shoresy, and it’s like they have fewer spotlights of characters to really care about so all the focus really stays, or eventually returns to Shoresy himself, and no matter how wacky his teammates get, it always comes back to the captain, who drops the most meaningful anecdotes and quotes that touch the people around him as well as the viewer the most.  Must be nice being both the writer of the show as well as the star.

Either way, as appropriate it is about two shows about small towns and their small worlds, this post really doesn’t have much else substantial to be blathering on about.  Letterkenny was an entertaining ride when it was firing on all cylinders, but the ending left a lot to be desired.  It just felt like everyone involved with making the show was tired of it, but they felt the need to wrap it up.  But Shoresy feels like they took all of the people who were still all-in on making more Letterkenny and funneled them into a project in which they could give their all, and still create a show that feels like it’s being made by people who still care, and like I said, I’m looking forward to more of the show in the future.

So cruel, is the human body

It started the previous weekend, when #2 just began projectile vomiting all over the place.  No warning, no indication of illness, just vomit, lots of it, and spread out throughout the duration of the day.  It was quite unpleasant.  But after a good night’s sleep, the worst of it was over, and after another 24 hours, it was as if she were never sick at all.

A few days later, mythical wife rolls in from work, and is pretty much laid up for the remainder of the day with similar symptoms.  That night, I hear more crying from usual from #1 on the baby monitor, to the point where I feel like I have to check in on her.  The scent of vomit is in the air upon entering her room, and it turns out that she too has caught the bug.  After several hours of hanging out with her, reading her books, and letting her purge everything that’s been in her system, by 1 am, she’s finally asleep.

Same thing, a day later, nobody is vomiting anymore, and a day after that and everyone is mostly back to normal again, although mythical wife seemed to drag a little bit more than the girls did.

Days later, I’m on the phone with my mom on the way home from work.  It had been a long day, and one that really required the second cup of coffee in order to make it home.  I’m telling my mom how it very fortunate that I managed to avoid the bug, considering how hard it hit the wife and kids. 

Sure enough, no sooner than maybe a half hour after getting home, I’m beginning to feel unsettled.  After the kids are put to bed, I don’t dawdle much and head to bed myself, feeling cruddy.  About an hour later, the first bout of vomiting occurs, and its apparent that I must definitely did not escape the wrath of the bug either.

The following day is a miserable day of illness where the only thing I did when I wasn’t laying down drifting in and out of sleep, is a death march to and from the bathroom with some rather unpleasant purges.  I slog through the work day, and my entire WFH Friday is completely burned, where I get no work done, and accomplish none of the little side chores I do in between.  I’m starving and thirsty, but don’t want to put anything into my body when it’s clearly rejecting everything in sight.  I don’t get back to sleep until closer to 4 am due to the constant need to get up and go to the toilet.

But much like everyone else, I’m mostly fine in 72 hours, which seems to be the norm for the adults with the bug.  Lucid enough to be able to watch and slog through the Super Bowl, which was boring as fuck until the end and OT.

However, the real tragedy of me getting the bug is that, circling back to that second cup of coffee that I had on Thursday, I know that had nothing to do with me getting sick, but because it was one of the last things I consumed before I started getting sick, my body has decided to hold it responsible all the same.  Even now as I write this, I’m leery on the idea of drinking a cup of black coffee, which is how I drink it at work because my workplace offers no creamers or additives and often times doesn’t even provide the coffee in the first place.  But when I do drink coffee at the office, it’s black, except now my body is revolting at the idea of consuming anymore black coffee right now.

Even my morning cup of coffee, which has some flavored creamer in it, I’m still a little ehhh about at the moment, but I guess the added flavor and the fact that my body can’t really start without it, it’s an exception to be allowed, but frankly coffee in general has been very unappealing since I’d gotten sick, which completely sucks because I love coffee, and this is why the human body is capable of being so cruel.

Coffee had nothing to do with my getting sick, but because coffee undoubtedly made its way out during my mass purging, it’s like my body is blaming it anyway, and I’m still working myself back to being able to actually enjoy coffee again, and I feel like it’s going take an obnoxious amount of time before I really feel comfort and relaxation from a really good cup of coffee again.

The case for Trevor Bauer

I can’t say that I’m paying much attention to the baseball offseason other than the big name moves that are spoon-fed to me through mainstream media, but there’s one name that I’ve been very curious about to see what happens: Trevor Bauer.

Long story short, Bauer was accused of sexual assault, suspended by MLB, went to Japan to keep on pitching, eventually found innocent and legally exonerated, but remains unemployed, despite having put up a solid season in NPB and remaining in game-ready shape.

And today, Trevor Bauer has basically declared that he would play for free:*

For a team that doesn’t want to commit multi years, hundreds of millions of dollars, or many elite prospects for a Cy Young award winner, they could sign me for the league minimum and pay 0 incremental dollars over what they have to pay to that roster spot anyway. Just another option for teams that want to win and don’t want to break the bank.

*League minimum, last time I checked was $725K which is a ton of money, but largely negligible as office supplies as far as a Major League Baseball organization is concerned

It’s obvious at this point, Bauer is grasping at straws for a job, and I’m sure that if were able to secure one, he’d probably fairly easily be able to re-establish his value and get back to Major League fuck-you money again, but it’s evident that there’s some league-wide black balling of Trevor Bauer, despite the fact that legally he’s in the clear.  Sure, there are other accusers and probably civil suit(s) somewhere in the background, but by and large we still have a man that has been found guilty of nothing, but is still being punished by today’s societal standards that perception is reality.

When I was live-or-die by the Braves on a daily basis, I’d probably be in support of the blackballing of Bauer here; the Atlanta Braves must remain pure and respectable and the high standard of integrity that can only come with wearing The A.  But I’m not that guy anymore, and I am still a Braves, fan, for lack of a better term, albeit a shitty one that probably hates the team more Taylor Swift fans love Taylor Swift, and I’m tired of seeing the Braves overachieve throughout the regular season and flop in the postseason like it were the 90s again.

Yes, I know we’re just three years removed from the Braves being World Series champions, but with teams this talented, expectations this high, and a contention window wide open, a team has to strike while the iron is hot, and I feel that the Braves are squandering their chances by being so Braves-ey, and constantly thinking they’ll continue to get overachieving performances out of their roster for the rest of this contention window.  The lack of depth in starting pitching has been exposed over the last two years, and the team shit the bed in free agency this off-season in addressing this need, while fans continue to sing the praises of general manager Alex Anthopolous as if already won the next World Series.

I would much, much, much rather see Trevor Bauer take the hill in a playoff game over Bryce Elder, or even a late-season tired Spencer Strider, whom both have shown the tendency to run out of gas by the time the playoffs start over the last two years.  And it would be nice to have a reliable starting option in the wings if there’s another late-season Max Fried injury, or Charlie Morton’s 40-year old arm starts to go, or it turns out that Ian Anderson can’t bounce back from injury or that any of the fringe starters they got are better served in the bullpen.

Trevor Bauer got knocked around when he first got to Japan, but he still compiled a solid overall season in the land of the #1 ranked baseball nation on the planet, where he had a 2.76 ERA and 130 strikeouts in as many innings, a solid  9.0 K/9.  He would slot into the top-2 of any starting five in baseball, and it would literally cost any team the same cost as it would to pay the 26th man on the roster, whose primary job will be the late-inning pinch runner for the team’s veterans.

There’s absolutely little more than the Braves, and their stat-geek fans love, more than saving money, and a willingness to take the league minimum, is about as big of a money savings as there possibly is.  Nobody does what Trevor Bauer did, because the MLBPA won’t let them, but seeing as how Bauer was blacklisted, he’s obviously not a part of it anymore because he’s not actually employed by MLB at the moment, so here we are – an ace-caliber pitcher showing his hand and telling the world that he’s willing to play for peanuts so that he can re-establish himself in Major League Baseball.

And just to put the kibosh on the perception that the Braves are too high and mighty to pick up an innocent miscreant like Trevor Bauer, let me remind Braves fans of some of the guys in franchise history who were actually guilty of crimes against women:

  • 1995, beloved skipper Bobby Cox was arrested on assault charges against his wife
  • 1997, Chipper Jones revealed to have had extramarital affair with a Hooters waitress; also impregnating her
  • 2012, Andruw Jones is arrested on assault charges against his wife
  • 2021, Marcell Ozuna is arrested on assault charges against his girlfriend

So let’s not act like the Braves, or Major League Baseball is some holy organization where saints play.  Yes, Trevor Bauer is kind of an arrogant prick, is a super bro on his socials, but he’s legally free and clear, despite previous accusations.  He’s an obvious upgrade to any team’s starting rotation, and he would cost a team practically nothing, so let’s not duck the obvious fact that he’s getting the Colin Kaepernick treatment here.

But make no mistake, someone will bite eventually.  MLB is no NFL, where there are (allegedly) numerous QB options “better than” Kaepernick, MLB teams always need pitching help, and one team will bite eventually.  Whether it’s two weeks left in Spring Training, or a July acquisition after watching him pitch in the independents or at a private showcase, baseball teams always need pitching, and a cheap and free and clear pitcher of Trevor Bauer’s capabilities will not go unemployed all year long.  But it will be a one-season deal, because once he takes an MLB mound again and proves he still can get the job done, he’ll be back to making millions in 2025.

I know it’s not going to be the Braves, because they’re too high and mighty on their own brand and reputation, but I would be absolutely stoked as a fan who wants to win if it were.  I would love to see the Braves meet the Dodgers in the NLCS, and a very motivated Trevor Bauer marches into Dodger Stadium and fires a statement shutdown performance against the organization that let him hang out to dry.

Someone else is definitely going to get the bargain of the century, when they blink first and sign Trevor Bauer, and I’ll be waiting to harvest my e-cred for when I’m right about this layup of a prediction.

Dad Brog (#128): Breaking Dada again (in a good way)

It’s been a long time since I made a Dada post.  It’s been a long time since I’ve actually taken the time to write, for the matter.  It’s not that I haven’t wanted to write, I just simply have had no time to write, because my life is chaotic, my kids come first, been too busy, and it doesn’t help that I’m insufferably neurotic about having the right conditions to take the time to write.

I’ve got a laundry list of topics that I want to write about, and it will be a challenge to retroactively try to get into the headspace necessary to write about them and try and fool my zero readers that they’re fresh and happening when they did but it doesn’t mean I won’t try either.

But this post, at least, is about as a live and real-time, genuinely written on the day in which the thoughts formulated in my head, which is about as good of opportunity as any to get back on the writing horse and hope that it gets the ball rolling again to where I can also knock out some of the other things I’ve wanted to blab about over the last few weeks.

One thing that I’ve always looked forward to as a parent, was the day in which my kids’ creativity developed to where they could start creating, things.  Drawings, paintings, sculptures, whatever, but tangible things that they make from nothing.  And over the last year and change now, with both of my kids in school, my kids are sent back home on the regular with papers of general scribbles and some developmentally appropriate artwork that they do, and me, being the sap that I am, have basically saved everything, no matter how inconsequential or scribbly they might look to others.  They’re my kids’ first forays into artwork, and for the time being, I’m hoarding them like I want to end up on TLC, and look forward to looking back at them with my kids in the near future.

But today, I come home from work, and when I’m reading to #2 on the couch, #1 comes to me with a person made out of bristle blocks.  She says, this is Dada.  Nobody notices it, but my lip immediately pouts for a second, because I’m cracking just how touched I am at the seemingly innocuous gesture that means the world to me.  Moments later, she comes back with another one, shorter, and says that this is me, and puts it next to the Dada figure.  I have to stop reading at this point because I’m holding back tears at this point, because I’m breaking in the best way possible, and my sniffles I try and act like it’s the seasonal bug that’s been passed around my household over the last week.

After I tell her how much I love them, she vanishes again, and minutes later comes back with yet another figure, the smallest one of the three, and says this is sissy, and I’m just about the happiest dad I’ve felt in a few days at how much I love these kids, and marvel at just how much they seem to grow on a daily basis.

Naturally, #2 destroyed them before I could take a picture of them, but I’m sure now that they’ve gotten such a positive reaction from me, #1 will probably make them again, to which I will definitely require some photographic chronicling of such happy thoughts.

All the same, I’m really looking forward to the day when my girls start making stuff like bracelets and necklaces, and I can’t wait to wear colorful and vibrant accessories that don’t match any of my office attire or anything else I wear, because fewer things will have more meaning and be more treasured on my person than the things that my own kids make, especially if they’re meant for Dada.