Xmassy Thoughts

1) I'm officially changing my default cheeseburger cheese from cheddar to American. Just something abut the way it melts.

2) Shouldn't Rainn Wilson just get it over with and officially change his name to Dwightfromtheoffice?

3) I just saw this A-Rod quote from today's ticker-tape parade:

“I wish we could just continue to show up and play for no reason. No umpires. No scores. Just show up and have fun like a softball league.”

AMAZING XMASTIME IDEA: How awesome would it be to have a reality show about a major league ballplayer, a year after retiring, joining some random, kinda crappy, co-ed Sunday beer league? I mean, there's some dudes in the league I'm in that scare the hell outta me; can you imagine standing there and A-Rod walks up to the plate?

I see a few ways that it could go that would pull you in like a mofo:

a) guy inexplicably struggles, can't seem to get a hit and fucks up in the field. The drama of having a major league player fucking up would be amazing. Pressure builds every week as he's embarrassed and pressing.

b) somehow throughout the season the athletic, rich, famous ballplayer forms a friendship with the last guy on the bench, some nerdy loser who isn't really well-known throughout the league and isn't a good player at all, and has zero confidence in himself.* In a word: touching!

c) the guy's competitive instincts kick in and as the games go by he completely unravels at everybody else's lack of talent compared to his own; by midseason he's screaming at a girl for dropping a ball, and everybody hates his guts.

Only rule: he can't pay for everybody's beers after the game.

I'd watch!!!!



* I haven't had my nightly sobbing for tonight yet, so this scenario reminded me of this bit from the Pete Maravich book I posted about a few years ago:

He saw a runty kid with a buzz cut get off the bus crying. The boy was eight years old, and he wanted to go home. The other kids teased him. He couldn't shoot. Then he'd get all nervous, which only made it worse. He'd start throwing up airballs.

So Jaeson took him to the gym every morning at 10:30 when everybody else was at the snack bar. They worked on mechanics and form, and by the end of the week the kid hit three foul shots in a row. He was never going to be a ballplayer. But three in a row was something he'd always remember.

And so would Jaeson.

Without warning, the kid put the ball down and gave him a hug.

It was better than a 40-point game.

Maybe the major leaguer starts working with the loser guy privately on his game, practicing for hours by themselves, and the guy stuns everybody in the playoffs with a big hit? Waterworks, flodding across the land!!!!!!!