Archive for February, 2009

I’m no dummy. I know he’s not the same Ken Griffey from 1995. But this town has got a serious sports hangover at the moment, and Junior is the breakfast beer that is going to ease a lot of pain. I don’t know about you, but I’m pumped for his potential .250, 10 HRs, and extended stint on the DL. The Kid’s back!

Over and over fans and casual observers have watched this gifted athlete try for a golden boy image, only to have it tarnished in spite of himself. Rarely has there been a celebrity so meticulous in his pursuit of perfect PR, yet so completely undone by his… self. A-Rod gives perfect interviews, is always a gentleman, is polite and self-deprecating publicly, is a true scholar of baseball, is interesting to listen to when he joins ESPN and Fox broadcasts, is an eloquent speaker, and last but not least, looks dashing in a suit.  Yet flying in the face of all we know of Alex when he is on camera is his ugly, ugly baggage, clearly derivative of his weak character. We saw his petty jealousy over Ken Griffey in Seattle, his “it’s not about the money” statements before chasing stupid amounts of it for the woeful Texas Rangers, more chippiness over (his friend) Derek Jeter in New York, some exceedingly childish on-field glove-slapping in the 2004 ALCS, extramarital philandering, a more than casual fondness for strippers, a particularly befuddling relationship with a pop star 17 years his senior, and now the revelation that he did indeed juice himself after declaring famously on 60 Minutes that he was not a steroid user.

So if I could advise A-Rod, I would say one thing: stop trying. He has villainous tendencies and it’s time he embraced them. Ty Cobb was one of the more insufferable assholes in baseball but he was freakishly good – a legend of the game. This is what A-Rod wants – to be the best, to be a legend. It’s the source of all his jealousies and clubhouse shenanigans. Guys like Ty Cobb and Barry Bonds set the precedent and A-Rod needs to follow suit. He doesn’t need to pretend to be nice in interviews. He doesn’t need to feign respect for teammates and other players. All he needs to do is play the game well (his body and skills will take care of this), and stop trying to reign in his douchey ways. By allowing himself full douchiness, he is free to be an unapologetic dick who kicks everyone else’s ass at baseball. He will no longer let the New York crowds get under his skin when he’s slumping at the plate; he can simply flip them off like Jack McDowell. When they skewer him for being jealous of Jeter he can be honest: “Yes, he’s my friend, but that doesn’t make me any less irritated that he is treated like a god when I am twice the player he is.” When people criticize his stripper habit he can casually reply: “I have hundreds of millions of dollars and am probably the best baseball player of all time. I will have intercourse with as many strippers as I choose. Talk to me when you are this rich and talented.” When they criticize him for screwing Madonna he can say: “Yes I have screwed Madonna. Hard. I also screwed your mom. What about it? If I so choose, I will screw Britney, Beyonce, Bar Refaeli, Jennifer and Angelina too. At the same time.” And when they ask if he has done steroids he can say: “I pour steroids over my Cap’n Crunch. It’s a healthy breakfast and I recommend it to you and your children.”

It’s become excruciating watching A-Rod crash and burn. It’s time he turned the corner. It’s time he stopped with the good-guy routine and started embracing his inner villain.

Gramps and some other chick snicker in a self-satisfied manner, having tricked people into liking their song

“The whole purpose of this year’s Grammys is to be more exciting than last year’s,” said Blender Magazine’s Joe Levy. “Last year, of course, album of the year went to a Herbie Hancock album — a jazz album of covers of Joni Mitchell songs. I think the Grammys would like to avoid that this year, and they’ve done that by making the nominees hipper than they have been for many years recently.”

Hip nominees be damned.  The 80s, 90s and ougths are a barren musical wasteland according to The Recording Academy, who know of no alleged “new acts,” and whose Adult Contemporary myopia appears destined to continue offending lovers of music now and forever. Oh, there were the obligatory nods to newer artists last night, like Radiohead, Coldplay, Alicia Keys, Metallica, John Mayer, John Legend and Mary J. Blige. But these acts aren’t being honored for doing anything interesting with music. They simply represent the safe slate that will continue to “win” boring Grammys once the old dogs finally shuffle off and aren’t around to lug golden gramophones back to their home studios, where they will sit as staid muses, coaxing a renewed and steady stream of tepid radio-ready shit for consumers who no longer buy radios. (Sting and U2 were not honored this year, apparently because they didn’t release records. Make no mistake, though, the nameplates were etched and ready.) The whole Grammy Awards charade operates in the same kind of vacuum that had George Bush declaring “Brownie, you’re doing a heckuva job” to a man who was in fact doing a very, very bad job. It’s self-referential, awards-for-the-sake-of-awards nonsense, and needs to be stopped.