6-4 FC

So, I tend to have these random moments of absolute lucidity, whereas other times I can have rage fuelled episodes of absolute madness. Usually the latter is a result of some cheating jerk during online play for WWE 13. I nerd rage a lot. I admit it, and I am quite ok with it. 

There’s “healthy” release such as nerd rage, and not such healthy release like blindly wishing ill will on someone you’ve never met in your life, that gets to read your drivel and then try to come to terms with how someone so far removed could wish such foul things upon a relative stranger.

I’ve never quite understood the need to berate someone that was wholly undeserving of verbal harassment or abuse. It seems like there’s enough forces in this world consistently trying to break us, or tear us down, that turning on each other seems woefully counter productive. If you take exception to someone’s behaviour, or perceived laziness, then there is an entirely different manner in which you can freely express those feelings. It’s called being an adult with critical thought process, and common social graces. If you choose to go the other direction, then I feel it only fair to warn you that I will in fact make you out to be the ignoramus people have previously only assumed you to be. We only get one shot at this thing, unless you believe in resurrection, in which case, we’re probably both coming back as armadillos, and I’m going to tip you over, and laugh hysterically.

Wait, can Armadillo’s laugh? I really feel like this is a question that carries enough merit to be answered. Because I’m going to be really pissed off if I can’t laugh at you being stuck on your back. As an Armadillo, that is.

I think I lost my keys again.

Awesome baseball BS aside, I tend to get these waves of thought that hit like a damn truck. Today was such a day. It dawned on me that I’m working my way up the ladder for a job that has no positive end, other than just “the end” itself. What way is that to go through life, actually? I get anxious. I get uncomfortable. I get complacent in where I’m at, and I require drastic change.

I’m mired in mediocrity while being design for greatness. None of us were ever meant to spend our lives in this manner. We’ve all been equipped to make a profound impact on this world, and to give up before ever really trying is one of the true faults of humanity. But with this fact being well known, and sufficiently documented, why do we continue to just accept whatever role we have been given? We choose our path, and the only time we notice distraction or experience failure, is when we take our eyes off of it. Sometime along my own path over the last twelve months, I have completely and unbelievably lost my way. This infuriates me, after spending so much time, effort, and money to put myself through post secondary education I had once again resigned myself to being stuck in the customer service industry. No. No more retail, no more just being “OK” , no more accepting anything less than the absolute best for myself.

I contacted a multitude of colleges today, to procure some course information packages in the field *I* want to throw myself and my future into. I know what I want, and I know how to get it. I fear for the people that have some masochistic desire to get in my way, this forward progress, this momentum, MY DRIVE will push me through anything, everything, everyone that interjects. 

My high school guidance counsellor shops at my store, the same man that said to me at the age of 18 to “become involved in construction or some other form of manual labour  to suit your particular skill set” and that “post secondary isn’t for everyone, some people just aren’t meant for higher learning”. Oh.

Every time I see that face of his, the snide remarks, insinuations. I can feel my blood pressure rise, my body temperature increases and I notice my knuckles turn white under the pressure of the fist I’m making. P.s. I graduated last year, just a hair below a 4.0 at the college level, while taking University level sociology and English courses. That being said, my index and ring finger want you to split the difference, jackwagon. 

You can either be part of my journey, or a by product of it. But I refuse to settle. Not now, not ever. I am too fucking smart, and too god damn gifted to relegate myself to a life of being “OK”. Consider this your warning, consider this my breaking point. Consider this my two weeks notice to mediocrity, the mission continues.

Stay hungry, keep focus, Be Great.

I’ve felt rather unmotivated since my return home. The one downfall of being the very definition of an extrovert, is that I exhaust myself beyond any realistic point while out and around, that upon finally getting an opportunity to recharge I become the very definition of useless.

I started this account because I wanted somewhere I could get the hurricane thoughts from my psyche out and visible, to try and make some sense of it. I’m an idea guy, always have been, but sometimes ideas become overwhelming enough that action is never taken.

I wasn’t depressed last week, but the amount of energy I spent in Cincinnati left me with very little to rebound and get back into a groove of sorts. I had no ability to do anything but lay in bed, and sleep. When you get to the point of no return like I did, it’s tough to really keep that level of “positivity” operating at the level of which I’m normally able. It kills me to feel tired, useless, unmotivated and lazy. All I wanted was to feel like I couldn’t wait to get back to the gym. My grind. My meditation. My release.

I feel better today, a little more “me” if you will. It’s no accident that it happened one day after my first day back at Fitness Forum. Healthy body, healthy mind. I’ve been cutting for a few weeks, and I’ve gone from around 180 to 165. One thing I’ve noticed, I enjoy the lack of “ponch” with my stomach. But I dislike feeling this small. Going from a brick shithouse 195 18 months ago, to a 30 lb “loss” does nothing for me psychologically though I understand that I’m much healthier overall. So I figure I’ll bulk again starting sometime in September, and 2-3 more times before next spring. A healthy 185 would be most welcome. The “lean” look is cool and all, but forgive me if I seem less than enthusiastic after having been to the other side, and quite enjoying it.

Bah, rant off. Thought process is diverting from the original point. I worked out, I’m happier, the Reds and White Sox are having amazing seasons, and I really like dill pickle Spitz right now while I write. 

Love ya’ll.

Be Great.

Can you feel it building? The realization that what this Reds team is doing right now is a historic run that has *rarely* been seen by previous generations. This team has almost passed the legendary team of the 70’s. This drives me as a fan, this motivates me as a member of Red Nation. So as to prepare myself and others for this weekend. I am meticulously putting my travel bag together, note sarcasm, and I can’t help but feel like this weekend is about more than baseball. Though it most certainly will be the most prevailing theme throughout, there is something different in the air and the energy it will illicit from anyone who dares look beyond the tree line.

There’s something grand about baseball, that people who do not follow the sport will never, ever understand until they have immersed themselves into a fan base. Laughed, cried, cheered, and jeered. Been to the pinnacle, and suffered in the shadows. The legends that built our franchise, that were once figures we held up next to the masked men in the Marvel or DC universe, they were our heroes. The guys who would save the day with a catch, a hit, or a pitch. There’s something next level about the mystique of the game we all love. The kids of the spring, boys of summer, and men of the fall…classic.

It’s Pete Rose and Carlton Fisk crushing anybody that stood in their way, Johnny Bench and Frank Thomas carving a legacy that likely will never be replicated. The Go Go White Sox, and the Big Red Machine. Good guys wearing black, and the hunt for a Red October. If you cannot experience the chill running down the sides of your neck, spreading across your back and raising every hair on your arm…you need to re-acquaint yourself with the icons that gave us the moments we re-enacted on the dirt of our neighbourhood diamond. Those guys gave us an identity as fans. A reason to smile and cry as a fan.

To my original point. I am sitting here, listening to the start of Hells Bells. One cannot help but feel it’s pertinent to this weekends series against the Bucs. The Reds have the hole dug, shovel in hand and leering over a team that is on the cusp of potentially replacing them as Central leaders. But Pirates fans, listen closely. Can you hear it? The soft *thump*…*thump*…*thump* your pulse is slowing down. The chill of defeat is beginning to make it’s way up your spine…the song lyrics ring hauntingly close to reality on the eve of this series…

I’m a rolling thunder, a pouring rain

I’m coming on like a hurricane

My lightning’s flashing across the sky

You’re only young but you’re gonna die.

Listen carefully Pirates, you can hear the pulse of your season…the dull thump of of your heart rate as it slows…that chill…listen carefully…stare into the grave. Houston lies there beside Chicago and you can see the Cardinals clawing at the side in vain to get themselves out before it’s too late…Cincinnati is the reaper, and he’s ringing the bell for you.

Reds fans. I don’t want you sitting down as the boys take the field the next three days. Get up, get obnoxiously loud. We want those people sitting around at Newport suddenly stopping in their tracks wondering where the thunderous noise is coming from. We are not the Big Red Machine, no…this team is something more…a different animal all together that has momentum and a hunger for the one thing the fans in Missouri constantly hang over our heads. They’ve won. A lot. But while they clutch to pictures and memories, this team has something much more tangible. This team has first place, and an opportunity to drive the nails a little further into the coffin reserved for the 2012 Pittsburgh Pirates.

Can you feel that electricity? Your heart rate picks up… I humbly request that whatever differences we have as fans of this team, are set aside for three days. For three days, we nod in silent agreement that any previous transgressions are being put on the back burner until after this series. I don’t care if you’re team A or team B. We need to be one team right now, without division amongst the ranks. This team needs the fan support, the players know what having their backs represents. Get on board with Ludvig Von Swattenheim, steady yourselves and deafen the city as they Release The Chapman. If you’re sitting at home, get off your couch and cheer for every play, because from the banks of the Ohio River…even now…they can hear us in October…Johnny…Pete…The Nasssssty Boys…

Sparky.

A new chapter of the fall classic screams to be written, Reds fans…they can feel it…destiny awaits this team…a legacy waits to be left…new legends born…there’s a new generation of kids waiting to fall in love with this team and remember what happened in 2012.

So, one of the biggest points of contention for Reds fans this year has been Dusty Baker. Not that it’s a new hot button issue or anything, but if the Reds fail to make the playoffs this season it may warrant actual consideration. Right or wrong, it makes no difference. As Ozzie Guillen has said in the past, “managers are hired, to get fired”.

So then it brought about this line being drawn in the dirt for Reds Nation, the Fire Dusty team, and people not on that team. Lol. I wouldn’t call myself a Dusty supporter but at the same time I don’t think that the entirety of the blame can be shouldered by just one person in the franchise.

ANYWAYS! That’s another subject for another time.

What I want to know is who exactly steps up and into the role of Manager if for some reason Dusty heads off to greener toothpic…pastures.

Mickey Hatcher. I am beyond a broken record about this guy, even wanting him in Chicago over last offseason because I believe that the managerial philosophy that Scioscia is imparting upon his coaching staffs is phenomenal. Joe Maddon namely, but there’s a cultural shift in management style that Scioscia has managed to tap into and I would love for another of his disciples to gain an opportunity to be “The Man” for a franchise. Hitting coach for Mike, special assistant to the GM in LA right now. Also from Ohio, so he’d be in familiar territory.

Terry Francona. I don’t know that this would be my first choice, but that doesn’t mean he’s an awful one. The only thing I don’t want from a Manager is a circus off the field. It cannot be stated emphatically enough, that the Reds need a steady but stoic influence. I just don’t know that Tito is the guy with the tenacity or aggressiveness that the team has been lacking at key points this year.

Ryne Sandberg. I dislike the word “swagger”, but let’s face it, the Reds need some more of it. We’re so concerned with the Cardinals and how they’ve wronged us, that instead of the team puffing out its chest and flexing some muscle we’ve become the petty middle child in the NL Central again. You can get mad or upset that I said it just now, but the pointing fingers crap has to stop. Remember the 2004 Red Sox? Do you think they complained about anything? Or just went out looking to beat every single team they faced? Ryne Sandberg has been passed over by the Cubs, twice. Good luck finding anyone involved in minor league baseball that has a negative thing to say about him as a manager. So let me ask you something, who better to come in and start pumping this team up, than  a guy that has a chip on his shoulder? Played hard, played solid fundamental baseball (another weak point with our club right now) and wants to BURY our division competition. Not get into a he said, she said pissing contest.

I will be the first to admit that what the Reds are facing right now is not good, but Dusty also cannot be the guy pushing runners across or over in key situations. That comes down on the players themselves, however, Dusty writes out line ups that make me wonder if he really has a handle on the best possible match ups every game out. Brandon Phillips cannot succeed in the four spot, any more than Stubbs can in the number two hole. Wanna know what a difference a #2 hitter can make in front of an MVP? Look at what Colby Rasmus is doing ahead of Jose Bautista right now.

It might be radical, but put Stubbs at four. The guy can only hit a fastball, and what do you think he’ll get in between Votto and Bruce? Or better yet, and I know it’s only been a year, but what do we have to lose by hitting Frazier at clean-up? Who cares what we have to lose, think about what we have to gain. This team still needs a lead off hitter, if it’s via trade or whatever, it doesn’t matter. The solution right now, is not on the team as it stands.

Victorino or Span.

Which helps us long term?