i don't quite have anything to say, but i'd like to get new content up. even if it's about nothing.

we'll be embarking on the first extended road trip of the year tomorrow, a seven-game jaunt that will take us through beloit, wisconsin, and then on to south bend. the best part about this trip is that we'll be moving through chicago on wednesday overnight, therefore avoiding the generally inevitable (and intensely annoying) chicago traffic. slows down a trip when the driver constantly brakes, constantly causing me to stir from my slumber.

next sunday's return, however, which will bring us through chicago right around 530, will be a bitch-plus.

long-awaited return conversation with gurs today. that was a blast.

i've never been one to be in awe of celebrities or famous people or whatever. i'm able to keep things in perspective, to understand that these people are just people, y'know? i generally am able to apply the 'one leg at a time' theorem.

tonight i had a chance, for eight minutes, to interview one of those people i admire. negro league legend buck o'neil was in town. i was shaking for the entirety of the interview.

he's just an amazing man. i got to ask him about cool papa bell, and he brought out one of my favorite lines ever: 'he was so fast, he could flip the switch and be in bed before it was dark.' i asked him about satchel paige, and he told me about the days when satchel pitched, and the scarcity of radar guns. once, with a speed contraption on hand, satchel was clocked at 100 mph. when he found out, he said 'if i knew they was timin' me, i would've thrown my hardest.' i asked him about the early 1950's cubs middle infield of ernie banks (an o'neil discovery) and gene baker (a davenport native, also signed by o'neil) and he told me that the true shortstop was baker, but that the cubs kept ernie there because he was the veteran.

he was just an amazing man...91 years old, taking the stadium steps two at a time.

i interviewed him for part of the top of the first. he was gone by the first out in the bottom of the first. i think i stopped tingling in about the bottom of the third. just unbelievable.

so many things, so many things...

never give blood without having a long-sleeved shirt on or a jacket with you. i did this today, and wound up walking through two record stores and a grocery store with my silly-looking purple (go cats) wrap around my right forearm - you have to wait four hours to take off the wrap, they say. just looks silly, like i'm bragging about doing a good deed or something. (that bragging was unintentional, this is not.)

got my first extended chance to listen to pat and ron today. observations:

- did they really change the broadcast-opening song!?..."chicago, chicago, chicago cubs. chicago, chicago, chicago cubs." i believe it went something like "everyone loves the cubs! everyone loves the cubs!" i had heard this song on saturday with the boy, and it appears that the change has been made. a sad day. sadder than the inevitable day that "riddlin', diddlin', and country fiddlin' " gets removed from the bernstein and boers open.

- ronny, who's apparently lost eight straight attendance games, said "before the game, david kaplan...david kaplan?---" pat: "yes, david kaplan"---ron: "said that we have a lot of fun with that attendance game. well. i can tell you that i'm having no fun with this game." pat: "and i'm having no fun watching your pain..."

- approximately 812, pat and ron had the inevitable wiki gonzalez conversation. (i believe i heard it last year as well.) ron: "where did he get that name?" pat: "maybe he worked in a candle factory." ... flash forward 38 minutes, as damian miller slides around a tag at the plate... ron, referring to wiki (pronounced wick-y) gonzalez: "that's a catcher against a catcher, and i think damian got the best of kiki (pronounced key-key)." hey, we don't love 'im because he's a genius, we love 'im because he loves his team.

i never understood the book when i read it, but i believe i had what could be called a the sound and the fury experience today, courtesy of my good friend flax, who includes his good friend jan on flax's recently-created "friends" page.

point is, out of boredom, i visited jan's page earlier this evening, revealing an incredible retelling of a previously-told story. this previously told story is about the 1800 club's weekly trivia contest...

i have first read about this contest on my good friend nemo's website (see april 17 entry). here, nemo writes such pearls such as "We answered 26 of 42 questions correctly, finishing second behind a team featuring quiz bowl ace and geek extraordinaire Jan Zasowski. We learned that Arkansas is the Land of Opportunity and that there were two Opium Wars."

here, it sounds as if nemo is simply a bitter loser, reverting to closet insults of the victor.

however...a different perspective, courtesy of jan, shown here (see 2003.04.16 [ed: geeky indeed!] entry): "It was remarkably easy, as we never trailed and ended up winning by 3 points (even with a few boneheaded second-guesses). By the end, people at the other tables were yelling "Quiz Bowl" at us." [ed: bold added].

sounds to me like the bitterness was public, and perhaps ugly.

[by the way, jan adds this: "Also, let me just say that I did not spend several years being fucked in the ass by burly men in order NOT to win money at trivia contests." i find this statement notable, although i shall not comment on it.]

anyway, i just find it interesting to hear a two-sided perspective of such riveting things such as college town trivia contests.

finally, i often download music that i think i should hear, but that i don't think i'll want to buy. music that i wouldn't normally buy, but i'd like to experience. some of this is techno (dj shadow, etc.), some of this rap (cannibal ox, for instance), and some of this is just other stuff that i've heard about (the shaggs, ed harcourt, numerous others...). usually these records go un-listened-to (robbie fulks' country love songs, for instance) or eventually get deleted (ben folds' rockin' the suburbs, an enjoyable listen, fits this category). in some instances, i've downloaded the not-yet-released album that i knew i would buy, probably on release date (guided by voices' universal truths and cycles, the strokes' is this it?).

anyway, the streets' original pirate material was one of the early categories, the should hear but won't buy category. today, it became the first to make the breakthrough. yes, i purchased, because i simply had to have it. just hear it. just do it. it's so good.

having experienced no laundry room difficulties in eight months of living at my current apartment complex, i figured such things to be relics of my past. however, my hopes and dreams were dashed - in striking fashion - this evening.

i headed down to the laundry room at 730 this evening, during a commercial break from the oddly enthralling john stossel special on abc. i arrived in the second-floor room to hear a dryer or two or three buzz and whir to a stop. (there were also damp socks and underwear on one of the dryers. still not sure why.) all five washers were unoccupied. i had made the decision to go with three washer loads (cost - $3) and four dryer loads (cost - $3). so i put in the laundry, and returned to my room, cleaning up and then preparing dinner.

thirty minutes later, i arrive downstairs to see all five dryers occupied, with clearly warm clothing. that is, the same clothing that had whirred to a stop thirty minutes earlier, as i began doing my laundry. what to do? my decision: empty the four dryers - - put the clothing in the empty laundry basket - - put my stuff in the dryers. after all, this person (with a keen fashion sense, i noted) clearly wasn't concerned about my laundry-doing convenience...why should i worry about his clothing?

flash forward 55 minutes, as i return to the laundry room (a bit delayed) to claim my now-dry clothing. who should i see, but some guy folding laundry that i had removed from the dryer. awkward city. he tried to make conversation. i avoided eye contact. i don't know if he realized that i was 'the guy.'

that's all.

frustrating morning-early afternoon (unnecessary rainout) turns golden this afternoon when it offers extra time with the ruds, the grandparents, and the nemo-carrie duo. annie comes up with the superb idea of a 324 n. main - apt 509 easter egg hunt, resulting in free candy, one dollar, and good times. all but one was found - perhaps it'll emerge from the plumbing in a few weeks.

dinner quite fun, only because the fam's good folks. and it's better when family interaction occurs both as get-together and spectacle. suffice to say, the boy-me combo was 'on,' at least from this writer's perspective. crowd interaction occured, as nemo helped himself to extra water (a noticeable glow emanated from my mother at that point), and the ultimate in audience involvement served as finale...ahh, the tractor, the red one.

the night features prior's gem (and the littlest one actually saying "whoa" upon seeing the athleticism of whoever was playing shortstop for the pirates...she's finally getting it), and the least successful viewing of an 'all-time classic' in the history of movie-watching.

the film: annie hall.

the results:
- middle one 'loses interest' in the opening twenty minutes (perhaps the rice distracts this one)
- youngest one heard snoring loudly, approximately an hour in (this is dvd, so i can tell things like that)
- oldest one spends the final thirty minutes wondering if 'the jerk' would have ultimately been a better choice (note: annie hall was selected by the youngest, who's been doing the woody allen thing of late. say anything was also rented, but will go unwatched by the trio.)

so we'll call it a good day. the youngsters sleep in the living room as this is written...i shall join them in slumberland soon.

a few random thoughts after watching late-night television two of the last three days:

- it sure is great that conan still does 'in the year 2000.' 'a plane carrying a peruvian soccer team will crash in the andes. although the plane is well-stocked with survival resources, the team will resort to cannibalism so as to not violate the atkins diet.'

- jon spencer (tuesday night on carson) sure looks ridiculous at this point.

- i don't think matchbox 20's rob thomas (leno, thursday night) has ever written a melody with any semblance of catchiness.


elsewhere, this just in: early-season rainouts caused because a poor-drawing team doesn't want to take a profit loss on a cold night, even when its a fifty-cent beer night, really suck. however, the opportunity to watch the first-place chicago cubs drop a 16-spot on the hapless cincinnati reds does not. ronnie santo thinks it's their year. so, apparently, does the boy.

today was our first rough travel situation of the season. following an arrival in the 'port around 11 on monday night, we departed this morning at 6:30 for battle creek, michigan. because i've got a few stats to acquire, and because protocol calls for entering the bus by 6:15, 6:30 departure means 5:45 arrival at the stadium for me. along with packing, this means that i'll get to be around 12:30, and get up around 5:15 or so. it's a short rest.

bus trip is five-plus hours and, when combined with losing an hour on the trip to the eastern time zone, we arrive at 1:45 and then depart for the stadium around 3:15.

this is a bit grueling, although i'm not complaining.

the most exhausting part comes at the end of the road trip when, following a 6:00 night game in battle creek and a 5 hour bus trip back to the 'port (arrival time: 2:30 or so), i have to get back to work at 10 for a 2 p.m. game.

all part of the fun, i guess.

you've not lived until you've ordered pizza to a bar whose kitchen is closed. that was my adventure friday night, starring floyd rayford, cory andrews, and ace blues pianist ezra sidran.

that's all.

it's difficult to describe the feeling of being in an on-air groove, but i was on during tonight's broadcast. near flawless. solid description, conversational tone, felt like i was being informative and entertaining, and my only home run calls were tremendous. good feelings going into tomorrow's doubleheader. doubleheaders are long.

there's a strange joy to being a "regular" anywhere, i think. i'm a regular at the osco on division street in davenport, but only during baseball season (when the grocery shopping list consists of milk, cereal, and beer). i went to purchase a gallon of milk at the osco on division street today (i had bought other groceries during monday's off day, but had sadly forgotten milk), and the graying, slightly haggardly, crooked-teethed (not you mom...ha!) overnight clerk smiled and said "back in season, eh?" and i'm pretty sure that she has only a vague idea of my vocation, and i know that, despite the tag, i've never learned her name, but we smile and make small small talk. strange, and comforting. i guess.

"in its own little way, my body was trying to say, that you'd better stop drinking brandy." big ups to the streets, whose original pirate material is bumpin' and catchy and listenable despite the accent. if it seems like i've listened to three albums exclusively over the past three weeks, it's because that's exactly the case.

I think elephant is the only record released this year that i've purchased in 2003, meaning that it has to be considered my favorite for album of the year. however, even if i had purchased any other albums, i'd think it's pretty safe atop the list anyway. it's truly staggering. not life-changing, but an achievement and then some. (i've also purchased the ted leo and the pharmacists album, which is good but not blow-me-away good.)

i altered my ncaa tournament bracket filling-out procedure this season, opting for the 'draw out of a hat' method - weighted, of course - for the entirety of the bracket. this resulted in a host of poor picks, including an nc state-oklahoma state matchup in the elite eight. sadly, i came in a solid last place in the krause gentle corporation ncaa tournament pool (one guiding principle="If you always do what you've always done, you'll always get what you've always got.”). however, i soon learned that this dubious distinction does not include a refund. in the immortal words of keith olbermann, gah!

so i approached my boss (son of the guy with the quote) about this quandary, and he responds, "when i ran it we gave the last place finisher a refund." but sadly, k-dub's no longer in charge. gah.

thursday - game one. friday - rainout. saturday - doubleheader. sunday - postponement. monday - off-day. and there is no rhythm to the early season.

this week brings three home games (tuesday-thursday), five commuter road games in four days (friday-monday). commuter games mean that we travel to and from the game day of...we'll depart the 'port around noon, bound for cedar rapids. we return from cedar rapids postgame, which means arrival about 3 hours after the final out. they're long days. that doubleheader (probably about a 230 start saturday - - meaning 10 a.m. 'port departure - - will be rough.)
we're really looking forward to a week from tuesday, which will bring our first actual road trip of the season, four games in beautiful battle creek michigan. and we're looking forward to seeing all 5-10 and 260 pounds of prince fielder, lil' cecil, starting tuesday.

'nervous fingers,' my daddy always said. 'fidgety mcfidget' is a term i've taken to using.

i received this wonderful mug in my christmas stocking this past year, a gigantic travel mug for which the only drawback was the fact that, when in the cup holder in the yellow car, i would not have proper radio dial access.

a coffee mug at work, a tea mug at night at home, it's offered me hours of hot-drink pleasure in just four months. but, alas, fidgety mcfidget struck on monday night. i had removed the lid of the empty mug, and i had started playing with the adhesive thing that keeps the lid on. (as homer once said, 'the thing...next to the other thing.') and i knocked the rubber band-like ring off the lid, sending it careening behind my desk. the room is not well-lighted and, four days later, i still haven't discovered its location.

to make a short story even longer, tonight i enjoyed a cup of joe while watching the cubs. sadly, the lid slipped off a few times, and now one of my three wnur sports 1998 t-shirts has coffee stains around the collar. life sucks sometimes.

in other news, elephant is a powerhouse, an outstanding album from the undeniable 'best thing going in music today.' it gets the quiet volume treatment at work. however, my mumbling "i love jack white like a little brother" as i walk from copy machine to printer is considerably louder. it took 15 months, but co-workers are convinced i'm insane.

my pal dan unstadt gave a call tonight. he's a super guy, and i aim to get in touch with him in the near future. i will publicly (and cryptically) state this: dan - your delinquency is excused. go for the gold!

my pal nemo indicates here a retro-active desire to spend a life talking to himself about baseball. what he doesn't realize is that the greatest joy about such a life is the post-opener staff meeting, when the middle-aged men pick up the tab. woof.

(many friends of mine have heard me use the phrase 'woof' as a term of excitement. do they know from whence that exclamation came? ira and barry, anyone? this is a quiz.)

the second-best part about a minor league baseball is arrival time at work. tomorrow? 10 a.m., baby. woof, indeed.

shameless plug: the quad city river bandits open the 2003 season thursday night at 6:00 p.m. central, with the pregame show scheduled for 5:45. jason miller goes to the hill for the bandits, and dusty gomon makes his midwest league debut. (who? you'll soon find out.) go here and then click on the listen link to the right. all the action brought to you by the dulcet tones (and tired vocal chords) of yours truly.

and, while i'm not complaining, i will note that it's now 11 and i've missed the cubs game (1-1) and i'm still at work. long hours ahead.

floyd rayford, hitting coach for the quad city river bandits, is one of the funniest people i've ever met. short and a bit pudgy and an eight-year major leaguer, floyd's got stories about just about every major league ballplayer you'd ever be interested in. floyd also knows his way around an insult.

players and coaches arrived in davenport from spring training this morning and, as i arrived to work, floyd and our trainer, cory, were unpacking their stuff and transporting it into the clubhouse. i entered the stadium, and began to walk towards floyd and cory, planning to greet them. however, floyd got the first glimpse of me and sighed (read this in your best stereotypical "black dude" voice) "...the shit you see when you don't got your gun."

and, for me, that meant that baseball season is back underway. 42 hours away. woof.

bought the white stripes' elephant today, and i can't give you an opinion. (the following is included to increase traffic on the quickly-becoming-useless 'shout out' feature.) on an impulse (and rationalizing that i was purchasing part of the white stripes' album via gift card) i also purchased bob dylan's bringing it all back home. i've not been through it - - only got the first five tracks or so before returning to listen to elephant - - but i have a feeling it'll bring on a need. or perhaps it won't. joni mitchell's blue has been sitting there, my only joni album, for three years now. and i love love love it.