Den Cotton

I’m feeling a little more A.D.D. than usual today. And being the super-spaz child that I am inside, I’m looking for answers to a thousand (and one) questions. Discuss amongst yourselves… please help me answer my most pressing doubts, concerns, and fears. Take your time… this is one of those new age classrooms where we give you all the time you need to finish your work…

1) Who will lead the NBA in ATA (ass taste average) next season? 1A) Could Barack Obama go old school on Jesse Jackson with a “Tell me how my nuts taste” freestyle rap?

2) How awful will Michigan be with Rich Rodriguez this season? 2a) How good will West Virginia be without RR? 3A) Will WVU take the buyout settlement cash and celebrate all the victories RR gave them?

3) Will Aaron Rodgers officially retire this season in Brett Favre’s shadow? 3A) When Favre sent a text message to Ted Thompson, did the Packers GM reply with WTF, OMFG, STFU, or TTYL?

4) Will Detroit declare Kid Rock its own Johnny Cash after his All Summer Long smash hit?

5) If the Yankees manage to earn a playoff spot, will the New York Post call it the Sticky & Sweet Tour? 5A) Will Jeter stop playing hard to get now?

6) When we’re all homeless during the NBA finals next year, will illegal immigrants teach us to grow and pick our own vegetables — or will they hold a grudge?

7) Why should we care about MLS soccer when its teams continue to lose in the Open Cup against squads from less notable leagues? 7A) Will U.S. soccer fans quit whining about their second rate fields and stadiums until their teams are actually legitimate? 7B) How is it possible for the LA Galaxy defense to suck so badly?

8.5) When the Cubs lose in the playoffs, who will dress up as the scapegoat mascot?

9) Will people stop pretending that tennis is exciting to watch on TV? 9A) If there were a grunt-off in women’s tennis, who would win Wimbledon? 9B) Is the art of grunting more valuable on clay or grass?

10) If the price of gas keeps climbing, will we have the pleasure of seeing less Nascar? 10A) Is it o.k. to discriminate against racing or is that reverse racism?

11) If two lesbians are making out at the ballpark, do you alert security or just pretend you’re in the porno Where’s the Italian Sausage?

12) If the aging veteran McCain knocks off diaper dandy Barack Obama this fall in the presidential finals, will he get a shoe deal from the Capitol Senior Living Center?

13) If no one is there to see it, does the NHL really make a noise when it falls in the woods?

14) If horse racing were banned, would anyone actually consider living in Kentucky?

15) Will Congress investigate performance enhancing vocals on pop radio?

“You’re looking down again
and then you look me over
we’re laying down again
on a blanket in the clover
the same boy you’ve always known
well I guess I haven’t grown”– jack white III

OK, Lima Bean posse, this is where I openly rant about anything and everything affecting our general mental health diet. We’ll call it Organic Sports Therapy…

Grocery bagger guy: I don’t need a bag for a banana dude! And I won’t feed your bagging addiction. Stop being such bagwhores. Baggers everywhere, grocery and retail: Please stop bagging my one item!!! This includes hand fruit, toothpaste, and condoms… maybe I want to put it on my banana in the store. And no, I don’t want my milk in the f#!&ing bag!!! I am protesting your invasive baggery by purchasing two cloth bags. I’m taking my manpurses to all your little shops, buying a tiny item from each of you, and then asking you to put it in my gigantic sack.

Cubs fan: Even though you guys are probably doomed to choke this year, quit whining every time the Cubs drop a ball game. You’ll have plenty of time to whine in October. So for now, leave that up to Cardinal fan who is boo-hooing about injuries, and all the Cards that are with the Cubbies now. If nothing else, just let Sweet Lou shoulder your frustration by going on some kind of crazy press conference tirade; he’d be good at that. It apparently works for Ozzie next door — so just go with it and you’ll put together another nice little streak, making your manager look like some kind of mad genius with coprolalia disorder, who shags blowup dolls.

Boston: Please no more damn contrived drama from any of your teams. You want attention… we get the picture… bloody socks, walking boots, knee knocks… I could go on. If somehow the Bruins make it to the Stanley Cup Finals next year, we don’t want to hear about a miraculous two-day turnaround from any player who had an artery severed by a skate. Enough is enough!

Jesus fish guy: No more damn Jesus bumper stickers on your car dude! Look, Jesus shouldn’t be pimped out on your ride or your license plate. Jesus is suing someone’s ass for trademark infringement and unlicensed use of the chosen one’s name—if they miraculously get to heaven.

Nascar: Stop praying before every race (also see above). When your fans are throwing up in the bathroom on their Dale Jr. t-shirts during lap 156, God is not listening.

Cedric Benson: Please do not enroll in flight school.

Grocery store produce guy: We’re out of fresh lima beans.

“The catcher hits for .318 and catches every day
The pitcher puts religion first and rests on holidays
He goes into cathedrals and lies prostrate on the floor
He knows the drink affects his speed, he’s praying for
a doorway
Back into the life he wants and the confession of the bench
Life outside the diamond is a wrench”

–Belle and Sebastian (Piazza, New York Catcher)

Samir Patel, by many standards, you were a prodigy, making your first trip to the Scripps National Spelling Bee at 9 years old.

But now — after being labeled “the Dan Marino of the spelling bee world” — the bright lights and cheering crowds are no more. And now it’s time to start thinking about how best to screw up your life.

You made five trips to the Big Dance and came up empty. It’s over dude — just go ahead and dumb yourself down so the pain of being a total burnout is easier to take.

Now that you’re 14 and no longer eligible for the spelling bee, I think you feel my pain Samir; and I feel your’s. While I never did make a trip to Washington, I somehow created my own personal dynasty by advancing to three city spelling bees before all the glory faded.

I remember all the screaming fans in 6th grade after I spelled encyclopedia — winning back-to-back titles — with all of my adoring classmates carrying me up the stairs. (Sadly, that actually happened.)

I’m going to pull out the crystal ball and tell you about your future — which will consist of a life of mediocrity. I’m not saying you’re Dan Marino — or even me — but chances are, you will be doing Weight Watchers commercials by Thanksgiving.

Look, I know people are filling your head with silly notions that you are some kind of kid genius, scoring ridiculously high on the SAT, already taking college classes and whatnot. But before you know it, you’ll be writing blogs for some sports website, constantly misspelling the easiest of words and talking about complete nonsense, while leading the masses into thinking you are some kind of harebrained, mad sports scientist.

The other day, in one of my blogging escapades, it was quickly pointed out to me that I was claiming to be falling apart at the “seems” — although it “seamed” to make sense in my head. It’s like some kind of evil magic that I’m proud to have — despite being a nobody.

The free fall is fast. Your ride is over my friend.

Look, you might turn out to be a doctor or some great humanitarian if you try hard, but the chances just aren’t real good for washed-up spelling bee champions and former NFL Pro Bowlers who couldn’t win when it really mattered.

You’re way smarter than I ever was, but that doesn’t mean you can’t hit rock bottom. Just step it up and fall off the cliff. Face the facts. You’re a speller, and it’s hard to turn that kind of expertise into a worthwhile gig. Besides, you can’t be this nerdy and uncool forever. Believe me, I know.

Just start drinking shots of Jager now and smoke massive amounts of weed — the really kind herb — because, before you know it, you haven’t lived up to expectations, making you feel mostly empty inside.

Samir, the final bell rang. So, just grow up already and learn to spell acceptance——and disappointment.

“I get up in the morning
And I go to a job
Where I’ve thrown up
In the John
I worry about
Who’s mad at me
And spend a lot of time
Wishing I was gone

I used to be somebody
I was a star
It takes a lot of guts
To fall this far
I’m a cockroach after the bomb
Carryin’ on”

Tommy Womack

What Would Jesus Blog?

Well, I obviously cannot answer that without divine intervention. But a source close to Jesus — speaking on the condition of anonymity for fear of the wrath of God and damnation to hell’s fire — tells me that The Chosen One is unhappy with plenty of things shaking out in the world, including the perennial letdowns of the Catholic church in the clutch, the college B.C.S. debacle, and Jesus Nation misusing his name.

While I had this limited lifeline to the Son of God, I thought I would find out what my source knows about the inner workings of The Savior, and what it’s like being the heart and soul of some of the biggest plays in sports. I quickly became disappointed to learn that God had absolutely no part in any Hail Mary play or Immaculate Reception. And he said that Notre Dame should never put faith in Touchdown Jesus, who was vacationing in the desert for more than 40 days and 40 nights last fall — clearly the wrong season to be acting holier than thou.

Meanwhile, my source confirmed that neither Jesus nor God is angry with ESPN’s Dana Jacobson for cursing at them and the University of Notre Dame during a drunken rant at a roast for talk show hosts Mike (Greenberg) & Mike (Golic) earlier this year. It is still unclear whether Jacobson actually said, “F*** Jesus,” “F*** Notre Dame”, F*** Touchdown Jesus,” or “F***em all.” But Jesus issued a press release saying “Notre Dame had an awful lineup last season and clearly, was F***ed without any help from Dana.” Jesus also acknowledged that Jacobson had turned water into wine at some point during the ceremony — so all is forgiven. He reportedly said he hadn’t seen anyone that drunk since Charlie Weis on Easter Sunday. Jacobson later apologized for the remarks and said she only wanted to know what it felt like “to be Catholic for a day.” And it is widely reported that, as part of her Lenten penance, Jacobson agreed to give up saying idiotic things while liquored up in public.

As expected, God announced that Rev. Jeremiah Wright is not — and never was — his agent. He reportedly said Wright was mainly a government experiment, and ultimately, will not change the course of religion, Barack Obama’s presidential bid, or the game of Scrabble. But make no mistake about it, he did intend for Hillary to have a fighting chance in the Democratic primary.

I was also surprised to learn that Jesus was quoted as saying, “The Saints sucked last year,” obviously animosity toward the Catholic church’s refusal to deal with its scandals properly. But he still doesn’t give a free pass to pastor and John McCain supporter John Hagee for trash talking Catholicism by proclaiming it to be “The Great Whore.” Jesus said Hagee also will announce his latent homosexuality — either proactively or in scandal — as punishment for his ridiculous statements blaming Hurricane Katrina on gay pride parades and sin in New Orleans. However, Jesus does agree the Wizards were well deserving of the Gayest Name in the NBA Award, as reported by the Serious Sports News Network. Jesus himself apparently is promoting a Hagee vs. Wright showdown, with the winner and loser being sentenced to 10 years of yoga in a godforsaken village where they will be officially rejected, denounced, disowned and deserted.

In somewhat of a conflict of interest, Jesus revealed he is a huge Devils fan and expects New Jersey to unleash a plague-like fury during the ‘08 - ‘09 NHL season. He likens his own style to that of goaltender Martin Brodeur, who has made quite a few quality “saves” in his career — but only those that will earn preferential treatment getting through the gates of the Prudential Center, and not the gates of heaven. Just another reason why both God and Jesus have become such followers of soccer, hockey, baseball, and those crazy hippies. But a very humble yet prophetic Jesus maintains that no one, in any league or all leagues of any kind combined, will ever break his career record for overall saves.

So I was getting a little selfish during the interview, and I wanted to know if Jesus could tell me what was wrong with my groin; and whether or not he could resurrect my B-league soccer career. My source said I probably didn’t have a real good shot at talking directly to J.C. without an appointment, but if I looked hard enough, I might find the answer in an unexpected place. And as I sat in the hospital, primed and ready for another C.T. scan, Pat Robertson appeared on the waiting room television. He was giving health advice to his followers, and said everyone should eat more peanuts and filberts. I wholeheartedly agreed with him for once, still wondering who in their right minds would actually take nutritional advice from a televangelist. But I knew he was right. And if I need a healthy dose of nuts, I can always turn on 700 Club when the cupboard is bare.

Those were really the only meaningful questions I had for Jesus. But my source stopped me, and said that God had one more important message for his people:

“While a fan of all teams of any race, creed, religion or sexual preference, God is very busy with many tragedies to dish out and fix up; and he doesn’t give two shits about championships in major sporting events including, but not limited to, the NBA, NFL, MLB, NHL, World Cup, NCAA, and especially Nascar … so you are wasting your goddamn time praying before the big event, assuming God cares or has time to miraculously affect the outcome, giving you some silly opportunity of shouting out ‘I just want to thank God,’ to a nationally-televised audience right before you announce your religious retreat to Disney World.”

Amen.

Let us go in peace.

“Your flag decal won’t get you into heaven anymore” — John Prine

I’m not really going to say too much here since this is the most ridiculous commercial I’ve seen in quite a while. I’m not saying it’s not funny — because it is super comical — but seeing Emmitt Smith in a rest home on YouTube coloring his facial hair is about as believable as a presidential candidate in late October. When former NFL running backs actually need to dye their beards with Just For Men to get chicks, you can expect that salaries will have plummeted to grocery bagger wages. Then, they won’t have the edge!

When the Scripps National Spelling Bee comes to ESPN/ABC at the end of the month, I expect to feel numb — almost stung. It’s been over 22 years since I heard that cacophonous bell during the St. Theresa school spelling bee.

I felt paralyzed. I ruined my shot at the three-peat, which would have culminated with four straight victories — had I not blown it.

I was on top of my game in 5th, 6th, and 8th grade. The only thing I remember from that calamitous day was the sight of my sister’s eyes flowing with tears. When I asked what was wrong, she could only offer a disappointed exclamation: “I’ve never seen you lose before.”

I was Tom Brady before Tom Brady.

Of course, I rebounded in 8th grade to reclaim my crown, but was my legacy tarnished? I felt like a maladroit.

Do three rings make a dynasty? Do you have to win four? Do you have to win them consecutively?

The reality is that I’m the Atlanta Braves of the spelling world. No, I’m worse. I never even won a city bee or a national title; just a perennial division winner. I finished third in the city of Evansville, Indiana in my final year as an amateur (out of 50 some-odd schools). But I never got to the top. I failed to hoist the national cup like 1981 champ Paige Kimble — now the bee’s director.

Back in 5th grade, I remember how I choked in the city final when I was asked to spell exclamatory. I totally nailed it and they made a correction; said the word was actually exclamatorily. It was like somebody called an audible or something. Then, I butchered it. It only contained two more letters — just a simple i and l. The pressure must have gotten to me, and I just froze in front of the crowd. There was a protest — I think from my dad — but to no avail.

It’s all about what you can do in the clutch. Perhaps if I was just a little nerdier, I could have gone all the way.

It also comes down to spending enough time with the practice books. I just wasn’t willing to sacrifice and live up to my dorky potential. I couldn’t give up backyard basketball after school, Commodore 64 baseball, and all those afternoons of watching Happy Days; oh yeah and Scooby Doo.

I’m still proud to be a pioneer for the sport. Just look at the endorsement deals and all of the scouts in D.C. nowadays.

Sure didn’t see anyone from Harvard knocking down my door with promises of cash, a Mercedes, and a house in Southern Indiana for my parents. And there was definitely no chance of one day playing in the Spell Bowl back in 1987.

My childhood dream of being a top etymologist would never come to fruition.

“Dennis, your word is reminiscent.”