**Quick Note: This blog was (mostly) written on Thursday, but pushed back for a few reasons including, but not limited to: New episode of the Office, World’s Strongest Man Competition training, English 1210, and George W. Bush.
My sister and my girlfriend both told me that they enjoyed my first post on Corked Bats. This can only mean one of two things:
1) Either Austin went in and made every single link go straight to “Bubbly” by Colbie Caillat,
2) Or I didn’t talk about sports enough.
At any rate, it is up to me to make a concerted effort to ensure that this doesn’t happen again.
But I digress…
(Hey hold on, is it possible to start a conversation off with a digression? Isn’t that kind of like eating your Hardee’s curly fries before your bacon cheddar sourdough burger?Or hooking up with Madonna after you have an attractive wife? Oh well. Hey wait, now I really have digressed! Alright, let’s do this!)
So here I am, Arts and Sciences Auditorium, learning about the principles of American Journalism. Today’s topic is “Quit Journalism Now.” Wonder what my professor means by that? Probably not important. Anyway, so here I am, Arts and Science Auditorium, reading about the NBA via my favorite sports writer Bill Simmons’ trade value column.
(Quick tangent: Every time I used to tell my girlfriend about something clever or enjoyable that I had come across in a Bill Simmons column or podcast, I would start the sentence with “My favorite sports writer Bill Simmons said…” After some 5 or 6 repeated occurrences, she told me that she knew who Bill Simmons was after I had told her several times that he was my favorite sports writer. Now, being the person that I am, I replied by saying “Oh I know you know, but that’s how I refer to him when I’m talking to anybody- like it’s his full name to me.” So to defend my honor and vitality, I will always refer to him as My Favorite Sports Writer Bill Simmons, or MFSW for short).
Now, I love MFSW Bill Simmons’ work for several reasons: his incredible prose ability, his extended analogies between sports and pop culture, the fact that he never shies away from his beliefs and stands on his opinions (see his ongoing war with Salt Lake Citians about the difference between Chris Paul and Deron Williams), and the fact that he constantly finds ways to downplay the accomplishments of a man capable of this are all so great. But what I enjoy the most is the fact that he has a ton of different concepts for his columns. He has mailbags. He has ramblings. He has the trade value column. He has an ongoing “Why I Love Sports” column. He does silly awards columns. He brings his friends on podcasts. And so on. Now, being the aspiring sports personality that I am, I feel like I need to start now at coming up with different concepts for my posts so that they don’t all take on the same form.
So, the other night when I was laying in bed fantasizing about the idea of the NBA trying to guard Kobe if he had Lebron’s body, I had an idea for my first concept: (dramatic pause) The Sports Caste!!! (Waiting for Applause) No? Nothing?
Alright, I guess I’ll explain…
In case you can’t tell, I have a hard time (Oh hey, somebody wrote on my Facebook wall!) staying on topic. The Sports Caste is my medium to discuss several different issues in one column, each given a bit less book in order of how prominent they are to myself and who I consider my audience (That’s right, I’m talking to you mom, sister and girlfriend). For example: say one week, the most prominent story is my Powder Blue Soul-Devourers going 2-3 against the Red Sox and Angels; I’ll put it first in the Caste and talk the most about it. Then, say, the second most prominent sports story that week is that the Yankees go 162-0, I’ll put that second in the Caste and talk about it second most. And so on.
Get it? It’s like the Indian Caste system, only it’s sports and the stories are like the social classes. And there’s nothing called a Brahmin around. There’s also no reincarnation involved (unless it’s MJ coming back as a Wizard counts). And I didn’t learn about it in eighth grade. And hopefully the British don’t come in and try to reform it. And it could legitimately double as the name of a Sunday morning program on ESPNNews featuring B-list sports reporters (Essentially the JV to “The Sports Reporters”). But other than that, we’re looking at essentially identicals, right? (So when I was Googling that picture, my typing went as follows: “twins arnold shw *backspace backspace backspace,* schwartzana * 11 angry backspaces,* danny devito)
I’ll give a paragraph to this tangent: So, you guys remember the guy that runs the “orphanage” in Slumdog Millionaire? (SPOILER WARNING) The one that burns the orphans’ eyes so they get more rupees when they beg? Where would he go in his next life? The logical choice is probably a blind orphan, or a blind city mouse. Or Isiah Thomas. But I’m actually going to go with Toby from the office. Is there a worse life anywhere? He shows up everyday at a job that he hates, with a boss that despises him so much that he tried to pin marijuana possession on him when he got back from his short-lived stint in Puerto Rico. His ex-wife always out-does him, and he lacks the gall to stand up for himself. Ever. It’s like everyday could be the adult sequel to Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.
Glad we sorted that out.
Now back to the main event.
So without further quipping, I humbly present the best idea for a sports column ever in the history of sports, or writing, or sports writing, or anyone’s life that has ever lived: (enter from left, baring the championship belt, flanked by Flavor Flav, the guy that commentates – if you can call it that – the And1 Streetball games, and Ghandi- as M.I.A. plays over the loud speakers ):
DA DA DA… SPOOOOOOOOORTZ CASTE!!
(Hey everyone, Jared here. This blog balooned like crazy and would run some 5,000 words if I were to submit it all once. So I’m cutting it off here for right now to build suspense and because I would actually like people to get through it. The Caste is basically done at this point, so I’ll submit it in the next day or two.