It's A Sports World (Part II)

Can a real man not love sports?

Since passion for sports is so associated with masculinity, I've taken it upon myself to look into how manly I really am. In doing so, I’ve realized, I like a lot of 'guy' things, but on my own terms.

Women for instance. Many guys I know like 'hot chicks.' I too, like a girl who's 'hot,' but that seems to have a deeper meaning for me. I admit being initially attracted to a woman's physical appearance as much as the next guy, but that's only part of the picture. Once a girl starts talking, that can all change in an instant. If you can't relate to me on some intellectual level, you're not worth my time. If you don't have a good heart, basic honesty, a sense of responsibility not to mention a sense of sense of humor, then I don't care if you look like Jessica Alba's twin sister, I’m not interested. And while I associate beautiful women with sensual things like red wine and dark chocolate, most guys I know think of women in the same thought as cold beer and hot wings. For evidence of this, look no further than the massive popularity of a place that's all about sports and chicks: Hooter's.

For the uninitiated, Hooter’s is a cheap sports bar chain that has popped up across the US like a bad case of acne. Their logo is cleverly placed over the image of a cartoon owl, so the OO's become eyes that resemble a large pair of female breasts. Like 'cans,' 'jugs' and 'melons,' the word 'hooters' is an outdated term that basically means 'big tits.' Hooter's restaurants serve up dry chicken wings, bland burgers and greasy fries. In between bites, you can catch all your favorite teams on TV, as well as catch glimpses of the waitresses in their uber-tight orange shorts and white t-shirts as they come around to pour a fresh round of Bud into your mug. Is it just me or is this behavior somewhat primitive?

I'm not saying that my morals are so high, or that I'm so enlightened. I just don't believe in mixing my dining with my adult entertainment. You’re cheapening both experiences that way. Throw sports into the mix and you have a caveman fest void of all sensuality. Instead, how about going to a top sushi restaurant? Afterwards, we can hit a good strip club, a nice one like Cheetah's in Atlanta or Stringfellow’s in London. It's not that I go to these places very often but once in a while, in the right company, it can be a lot of fun, especially when you leave sports out of it.

In addition, to my appreciation of the female species, there are other things about me that are very ‘male.’ For example, I enjoy a good violent, action film, as long as it's well written, acted and directed. Give me 'Apocalypse Now' or 'Pulp Fiction' any day of the week. Take "Armageddon" or "The Fast And The Furious" and put them back where they came from. I also like a good pint of beer, a hearty scotch or bourbon and a good cigar.

Perhaps the strongest testament to my manhood (pun intended) is this: I play the manliest of all music, heavy metal. I even made a career out of it.

So I've realized that there is a place in the world for guys like me: guys who aren't catching every game they can and bonding with their fellow males over it but who are nonetheless "guys" because of it. I've taken some comfort in the fact that two of my biggest heroes, Henry Rollins and Howard Stern, are, by their own admission, not big sports fans. With their abrasive honesty and male energy, these guys are about as feminine as a sweaty jock strap in the NY Giants locker room. All this has helped come to the conclusion that, despite my lack of sports fanaticism, I am a real man after all.

It's A Sports World (I Just Live In It)

(I posted this last month, but it felt incomplete and I took it down. Since then, it's grown so much, that it's being presented in several parts.)





PART I



I'm hanging out with a group of friends at a bar. We're exchanging funny stories and funny anecdotes. I've got a story to tell myself, so in between sips of my bloody mary, I'm listening and awaiting my turn to chime in. Just then, someone notices the television in the corner and says: "Hold it, scores are in… Jets 13, Ravens 3.”

“Uh oh” I think to myself. Then it starts.

"Jets are lookin’ real good this year.”

“They got Brett Farve, whad'ya expect?"

"We’ll see. You check out Dallas this week? Romo's the best quarterback out there."

In less than a minute, my fears are realized: no one remembers what we were talking about. It's all about who’s got a better offense, who got traded, who's injured, who's coaching, who's in first place...and so on and so forth.

Suddenly I have an important call to make. Wait…can’t think of anyone to call. On second thought, I need to check e-mail. Yeah that's it. Checking my iPhone, no new e-mail. Shit. Just get me out of here!

The above scenario is a regular occurrence in my life. Stimulating topics swallowed by a sea of statistics. Colorful conversations dimmed by clouds of testosterone. Opinions thrown back and forth like the oval object around which they are centered: a football.

I've tried to get in on the fun. I see major American cities like Pittsburgh and Cleveland turn into giant block parties on game day. It looks like a great time and it's hard not to admire the coming together of so much of the population. Friends occasionally get me to watch a game. I admit to having a good time but just can't muster up the same enthusiasm. If it's between a ball game and a movie, concert or other activity, I pick the latter. I can't keep track of all the teams, players, coaches, plays and scores. Where do people find the time in the day to process all this information? Where do they find room in their brains to store it? Who really cares about this stuff?

Everyone except me, apparently. It’s a sports world. I just live in it.

How is it that people from all walks of life, from senator to janitor, from professor to postal worker, people with nothing in common whatsoever, can become instant buddies by simply talking about sports? Meanwhile I'm left in the cold, stuck on the bench. In the bleechers. The nose bleed seats.

I find myself doing things to try to fit in to this whole sports thing. One of the tours I do has a weekly 'football pool.' I enter sometimes. It costs twenty bucks. Basically you have a sheet with all the NFL games going on during the week, where the game is being played and what each times record is so far this season. I first decided to give it a go last year. Everyone was as shocked as I was when, thanks to a couple lucky picks, expert advice from a friend and a rare missed field goal by some poor kicker on the Indianapolis Colts, I walked away seven hundred dollars richer.

Playing that football pool has given me some insight into the game and enabled me to survive the football conversations that take place around me on the most basic level. However, I still can't imagine spending my Sundays, Monday Nights, some Thursdays and Saturdays in front of the TV.

I've spent holidays with families of friends who sit and watch football all day. The room is silent other than the game blaring out from the TV like static. I suppose that for many families, this game on TV is the one thing that brings them together. I can respect that, but sometimes it dulls my senses and just makes me numb. The drone-like white noise of the crowd, the announcers with their fake buddy behavior and forced laughter, the third grader humor of the beer and pizza commercials.

I respect the passion my fellow citizens have for these teams, but I don't understand how love or hate of a certain team gets so intense. Some guys will not let it go if they don't like a team. For example, a few years ago, I was at a bar while the Major League Baseball play offs were on TV. It was the Boston Red Sox gunning for their first World Series title against the New York Yankees. The Red Sox had never won a World Series Championship, while the Yankees had won too many to count. I couldn't help asking my friend sitting next to me, a hardcore Yankees fan born and raised in New York: is it really so terrible if the Red Sox win? Wouldn't that be fair? Just this once?

He sipped his whiskey and glanced up at to the TV, which showed the Red Sox dug out. He cleared his throat, looked me in the eye and addressed me with the seriousness of a doctor delivering grim news.

"They ain't nice people, Skol." he said.

Back From The Dead...

It sounds so generic and after the fact at this point but Happy New Year everyone! And I'm sorry! Not just for you. For me. I miss this blog!

I was doing great with my writing. Then it came to a screeching halt. It was as if someone hit the emergency break.

What happened? The main thing is that I was on tour, playing for an average of 12,000 people a night, sometimes twice a day, in a show that lasts 2 1/2 hours. Those of you who are familiar with TSO know what an intense show it is. It's also something you won't see written about here. Part of the magic of that show is that it's a holiday show and revealing too much about it would undo the magic.

But I will tell you that the days were long and busy and while I managed to crank out a few written pieces along the way, towards the end the spare time slipped away like a dropped guitar pick. And the spare energy faded.

Once I returned last week, I was pulled under by the wave of life outside the written word. This included reconnecting with people I haven't seen in months. Also bags had to be unpacked (they've just been packed again), guitars had to be strung, batteries changed, flights confirmed, interviews granted etc...add this to the constant influx of e-mails and calls that come in.

I think it's safe to say I'm back but I'm no longer going to promise a date for any of my pieces. And what I hope to do is create enough pieces before a tour that I can post regularly, even when there's no free time. I don't want to just post any old thing for the sake of posting regularly. I also get a bit obsessed and perfectionist like with writing (much like I am with music.)

The good news is I have been keeping an almost daily journal of thoughts and ideas for essays. There are a lot of raw, unpolished stories waiting to be fine tuned and posted here. When those show up here, I think you're going to like them.

Wishing everyone a happy '09. Thanks so much for sticking with me!!