Sunday Sermon: Non-Words, Pronouns, and other Bullshit Musterings

I love the paper, especially The Kansas City Star. Unfortuneately, I can't find any general information on the Star's Kent Babb, but he writes sports for them, and he's done a great job complementing Adam Teicher as a Chiefs beat writer, if you will, since he came aboard. I've got to take issue with his piece in today's paper, though.

There are many reasons why, but the primary one is that, although this is a (conceptually) good piece, something readers and Chiefs fans will hungrily devour, it's inappropriate. Perhaps Babb's editor made the call to run the story today; perhaps he wanted to wait, or perhaps it should've never run. Not in this season. Not when Chiefs fans are already down.

"The Chiefs' third-year coach says progress is being made, and he understands that not everyone has a sideline view. He says the team has done mostly the right things in the first phase of the rebuilding project, and if things continue to go well, Kansas City will be in the playoffs by 2010."

That sentence appears just before the jump, and make it to the jump I originally did not when I first read it, and since this is a blog read by like six people, I'll take an occasional liberty here:

Fuck you, Kent Babb, for writing that. Fuck you, Star editors for publishing it, and last, but most certainly not least, fuck you Herm Edwards for saying it.

In my estimation, third-year coaches who are halfway through their third year are doing one of two things: gearing up for a serious, legitimate playoff push, or readying their resumes for the NFL version of Monster.com. The Chiefs have won one freaking game this year. One. They're likely going to get smoked by Tampa Bay at home today, and they're likely going to finish the season with a worse record than Detroit and Arizona. As Babb writes, they're "on pace to finish with the worst record in franchise history."

My question then, is this: Are you fucking kidding me with this bullshit interview right now? You expect Chiefs fans to take any ounce of solace in the fact that they should be expected to wait two and-a-half seasons to get to the playoffs? Get to them? That, Mr. Babb, Mr. Edwards, and Miss Holly Lawton (Star sports editor) is a slap in the face, and an insult. There isn't a football fan on the planet that doesn't know how long Chiefs fans have been waiting for a playoff win, some real sense of post-season progression. My puppy, the one that hungrily devoured the cat's vomit this morning, knows it.

I've been working in kitchens for nearly 20 years. For the most part, it sucks as a job when you're not in a high-end place where the front-of-the-house staff all takes their jobs seriously. FOH managers are typically slouches, and the service staff is usually lazy and self-centered. Most of the time, that's motivation for us of the chef variety to work even harder than we already do. There is one gripe I've never been able to overcome, though, and that's the massive aberration of pronoun usage that comes from this breed of people. They seldom, if ever, think of the operation as a group effort; they only think of bettering their own schedules and fattening their own pocketbooks. For example:

"Good evening. I've got a Surf and Turf for a special tonight."

What? No you don't. You didn't have anything to do with the preparation of that food.

Or:

"I've got a Hefeweisen on tap this evening."

Not really. You didn't brew that beer. You didn't buy it, and you don't fucking own the place.

Herm Edwards drives me even crazier in this regard. This interview with Kent Babb is no exception.

"This is kind of like when we were in Tampa. It's really the same scenario. We didn't start off real well, and we finally got going, probably week nine, week eight..."

First of all, just shut the fuck up, dude. There is no we that was in Tampa. You were some talent-scout-schmuck that Tony Dungy hired to help his rebuilding process. The entire coaching staff from that Bucs squad isn't here with you today in Kansas City, and if you're speaking on behalf of your wife, well that's real damn gentlemanly of you, but she ain't on the payroll, dude. Those checks are cut, painful as it is to say, to Herman Edwards. Not Lia. Not Herman and Lia. Herman.

He does the same thing when referencing (his tenure with) the New York Jets. And yeah, Dick Curl was there, and who knows who else he dragged along with him, but nobody cares about thos guys dude. You were in Tampa. You were in New York. Now you are in Kansas City. Get it right. Actually, strike that. You know why? Because you shouldn't even be mentioning those jobs.

I've never in my life heard any other head coach so consistenly refer to his previous jobs. Actually, I've just plain never heard another coach do it period. It's like he's got something to prove. Hey, Herm -- remember when you were hired? Remember that "What happened in New York stays in New York/locked the house and threw away the key bullshit" you handed the media in that presser.

And while we're at it, it's "frustrated," Herm. With an 'r'. Not "flustrated." And it's "accolades," dude. Not "ackyoulades." Leave the word makinguppage to me, Broseph.

Back to the Babb bit, though. Honestly, in this day of press-primed, spoon-fed sporting answers, what, Mr. Babb, did you expect Edwards to say? There are about half a dozen examples of fresh, steaming bullshit in the piece, all handily delivered by the Chiefs head coach, but perhaps this one's the best:

"Babb: When you see the future of this football team, is Larry Johnson part of it?
Edwards: Right now, Larry Johnson is on this football team. He's part of it. That's what you look at. You want to answer questions; you want to get an answer for a question that's very difficult to answer right now. I mean, it's not fair to anybody. He's a part of this football team."

Mr. Babb -- you should know better. That was a complete waste of column inches in my newspaper. Mr Edwards -- fuck you. Yes. I know you can't answer that question because all hell would break loose, and a media/blogging whirlwind would spiral out of control, but fuck you anyway. Have some originality or something dude. Jesus. Conjure something that might motivate Larry. Or lie. Shit, you're a master at that.

Anyway, I've covered most of the bases here. Good concept for an article. Horrible time to run it. I've been waiting for the time to make this official; perhaps I waited too long, but it's November now, and I declare this, the second day of November 2008, to be the kick-off to the Herman Edwards Firing Countdown. Oh, no. I don't think it will happen soon. Probably a year from now, when the Chiefs are still as bad as they'll ever be under Edwards' watch. But count it. It starts today.
Read more

My Sports Life is a Rock Song: "Into the Wild"

This week's feature strays a bit from the title; a more pertinent name for the installment would be "My Sports Life is a Motion-Picture Soundtrack." But it works. And I'll explain how. As a refresher, however, the purpose of this feature is to in fact blend a selection of music with the author's current stance on the wide world of sports as he (or she -- in case we ever have a lady on the staff) knows it. In case this piece of information has slipped by anyone, the NFL draft kicks off tomorrow morning, and it promises to be as entertaining as always. It has, via our extended library of reader commentary, come to my attention that certain parties were disappointed over the lack of House of Georges coverage regarding the recent trade of Kansas City Chiefs defensive end Jared Allen to the Minnesota Vikings. It should go without mentioning that this exchange did not slip by HoG headquarters unnoticed. It was in fact discussed at great length, here, in last week's installment of this very feature. Thus, it's time to analyze just what the Chiefs will do with their compensation for Allen, their time on the clock already super-sufficent prior to the transaction. Jump ahead to figure out just what the hell I'm talking about.

I've said it before, but here it is again: Herman Edwards is a smart man, and a good football coach, but not a smart football coach. Carl Peterson, though his head is wanted by many a die-hard Chiefs fan, is not a bad character in my book. I'm not interested in debating this; it's long since grown tiresome. Suffice it to say that for my money, he's done a pretty darn good job running this franchise. Did I say great job? I did not. Great job=championship(s). That hasn't happened, and therefore he tops out at the grade of "pretty darn good job."

Anyway, for much of this weekend's selection extravaganza, the Chiefs will be on the clock. For those that are not familiar with the motion picture "Into the Wild," based on Jon Krakauer's novel of the same name, go see it. I'd offer the always-obnoxious -- though I too have been guilty of it -- "the book was way better" tag line, but I've read roughly .6 books/year over the last decade and this one wasn't one of them. It, the movie, of course, also has a bad-ass soundtrack, all courtesy of Eddie Vedder. Here's how I've morphed the two into this week's selection: The title and score of each track on the album suggest, and, no, I'm not using that word loosely, a personality trait about where the Chiefs have been, where they are, or where they will soon be. Have a look.

Track One: "Setting Forth"

Anyone even remotely familiar with Kansas City Chiefs football knows that Herman Edwards, with Peterson rubbing his back, is committed to building this team through the draft. I, though subject to some controversy, have felt the last two years have been a bit of a success draft-wise (Editor's Note: Mention the words "Justin" or "Medlock" and I sick Humberto on you. For reals.). My offering is this: This is year three of the project that will likely go down as "The Utterly Embarrassing Herman Edwards Experiment." Get. It. Done. Make this the third and final year of building through the draft, and go win some goddamned football games. And by "some," I mean a lot more than four, dicky.

Track Two: "No Ceiling"

This track is a short one, so I'll keep this brief. You have 13 picks, dudes. That is, one more than 12, one less than 14. Find some fucking talent, pick them, sign them, and then play them to sometimes win the game.

Track Three: "Far Behind"

Far behind is exactly where the Chiefs are in the great-and-storied AFC West. This just in: The Raiders don't count. If translation is necessary, that means last fucking place, Mr. "The Key to the Playoffs is By Winning the Division." You've done bragged about how much picking you'll be doing this weekend while the rest of the division will be watching. Don't screw this up.

Track Four: "Rise"

Go back. Re-read the notes under "Track Three" and make the inference, Chiefs Nation. It's time to rise from the ranks of humiliation and defeat, and claim our spot among the elite. Is that wishful thinking? May be. Wanna fight about it?

Track Five: "Long Nights"

Long, oh so freaking long, have the nights been since we were on the doorstep of the AFC Championship? Math was never my strong subject, so I won't tally how many actual nights it's been. That would only be one more statistic with which I might cry myself to sleep each long and painful night that the championship eludes us. Make like daylight savings time, Herm and Carl. Make the nights shorter.

Track Six: "Tuolumne"

I had no idea what this meant, so I looked it up. Turns out, it's "a river, about 249 km (155 mi) long, of central California flowing generally westward to the San Joaquin River." If it hadn't been listed, I was going to offer that it's a beautiful one-minute instrumental piece, which means I must relay the message in terms of majestic glamour.



But if words are the desire, than make the journey toward a Super Bowl victory one that flows westward to the San Joaquin. I don't care either way.

Track Seven: "Hard Sun"

Carl Peterson's contract is up (again) at the conclusion of this season. If things aren't looking up, hopefully Clark Hunt makes the right move. I won't say that the right move is firing Peterson, but if that happens, the final image of dusk from King Carl's Plaza condominium will be one hard sun at which to gaze.

Track Eight: "Society"

This track is best defined by its token line: "I hope you won't be lonely without me, society." I don't mean to prognosticate, but if that's Carl speaking, then, uh, no. We won't. I don't think.

Track Nine: "The Wolf"

This is a brief-but-powerful instrumental that incorporates some chanting into it. Very nice. I'd like a reason to chant, a reason to high-five KC Wolf. And soon.

Track Ten: "End of the Road"

Oh, the euphemisms this ditty could stand for are simply endless. For Carl? For Herm? For Tony Gonzalez? For the sellout crowd streak? For the almost-gone-already Arrowhead mystique? It could be all of the above if this draft, and ensuing season are unsuccessful. I don't count developing our younger players as successful either, Herm.

Track Eleven: "Guaranteed"

This song is a wonderful way to close things out. For the movie, the story within it, the album, and for the expectations that lie on the Chiefs organization as well. If a Super Bowl berth can't be spoken in in terms of guaranteed, it had better be spoken of in a damn convincing fashion. None of this five-year plan shit. Don't get me flustrated, now.

And there it is. Pick the album up. It's worth it. And pick the right friggin' players this weekend, Chiefs front office. We're counting on it.
Read more

Tradition Tuesday: (not so) Stand-up Guys on the End

The rough focus of this blog is the rivalry between the Kansas City Chiefs (heralded by Bankmeister) and the Denver Broncos (championed by Cecil and Old No. 7). It may seem unfair that it's two versus one, but once KC gets that second Super Bowl win we'll even out the delegation.

Seven years ago we started The Tradition, in which Bronco fans travel out to the Truman Sports Complex with their team, and Chef-lovers return to the Rocky Mountains with theirs. We tailgate, we talk massive amounts of shit, our wives are occasionally assaulted by rival fans, and we almost always watch the visiting team lose. It's grand old time.

Here at the HoG, we're going to keep The Tradition going with Tradition Tuesday--a weekly state-of-the-rivalry address.

It's no secret that, around the National Football League these days, commissioner Roger Goodell is trying to import a global model of appropriate behavior to which the players in his league must adhere. Given these athletes' track record over the last 20 years (a span in which media coverage has exposed their behaviors to the public 1000 times more than any previous era), it comes as no surprise to the House of Georges that both the Kansas City Chiefs and the Denver Broncos will each open the 2007-08 campaign shy a defense end. Good times.

And by good times I mean that pisses me the eff off.



Most teams are going to put forth some effort to field a decent offense, right? As crappy as the Arizona Cardinals and Detroit Lions have been over the years, they've at least sort of tried to put a decent quarterback, a solid running back and some dudes that can catch the ball out on the field. Naturally, teams want to have a fierce offensive line and a defense without any holes in it, but those two animals are a bit trickier in that they involve a unit/squad mentality and arguably more in-depth scouting.

Let's say a team assembles an O-line, and the defense is a work in progress, much like the Ds of the two coveted HoG clubs. Settle down, Bronco Nation. I'm not comparing the Chiefs defense of 2000-2004 to anything orange and blue. I only posit that our Ds have been less than desirable in the big picture.

Now, the Broncos, under the astute leadership of that cheese-loving tanning booth champion, have made more admirable, more consistently intelligent strides in compiling a championship defensive squadron. They've brought in relatively quality lineman and linebackers, and when those guys haven't panned out, they've replaced them with other quality players. Denver has only needed to do patchwork in their secondary since the Champ Bailey trade, and, without seeming crass, one could argue that the loss of the late Darrent Williams was a blessing in disguise; the Broncos were able to replace a semi-quality player with another of higher caliber and larger overall talent.

The Chiefs' story is a bit different. They've had three coaching changes since Shanahananigans took over in Denver, and coach three is only now entering his second season. One might say he inherited one of the league's all-time worst defenses. They were on the mend, granted, but still extremely not good. A flustrated Herm Edwards (Editor's Note: He never watches football games or gives away pages to his playbook to lifelong "buddies" on gameday eve) immediately added age beef to the cornerback end of things, while youthening up the safeties and exchanging mediocre defensive linemen with other mediocre defensive linemen.His efforts to improve the linebacker scenario have had flashes of intelligence, but they're still a work in progress. The one bright star of his debut as head honcho was his first draft, in which the Chiefs selected a nice defensive end with their first overall pick, a selection made to establish the proverbial book ends on the D-line.

That's all fine and well, unless the already-existing end of books likes to consume adult beverages and not use some of his excess American dollars by calling a cab/having an entourage member drive him around. Sounds like the behaviors of a Nebraska "talent" who once wore #44 for the Chiefs. On the other side of Kanorado, you have a free-agent defensive-end acquistion who hasn't discovered the proper methods of covering up juicing. Soundslike this group of athletes. It remains true, though, that even with predecessors, models for how not to do things, in place, learning the lesson can indeed be hard.

We (and when I say "we," I don't mean to include Old No. 7 and/or Cecil) here at the HoG believe that the AFC West title is up for grabs between the Broncos and the Chiefs. Sure. Throw the Chargers in the mix, but Norv Turner is like, from Cleveland or something. Bad times. And the Raiders are, well, the Raiders. My question is this: If the road to the playoffs (playoffs?) only goes through the division title holder, how can you let yourself get suspended for a fucking quarter of the season?

Answer: You can't.

Thus, I have the solution for these two non-fine examples of appropriate off-field behavior.
Jared Allen -- two DUIs. For real, dude? Two? Even I am not dumb enough to drive around drunk in your crime-free-let's-look-for-drunk-drivers-and-drunk-drivers-only neighborhood, and I drive drunk all the time. Difference is, if I get busted, I have to answer to my wife, which is only slightly worse than having to answer to Carl Peterson, Herm Edwards and a rabid, high-expectation-having fan base. Come on, Idaho State. Pay someone to drive for you.






Kenny Peterson -- anabolic steroids and related substances? I'm not sure which offense is worse. Didn't you have enough bad examples rollin' around with you at Ohio State? Barry Bonds just called and said, "Knock that shit off, kid." All the performance-enhancing-substance experts claim that the maskers are always one step ahead of the testers. Get with the program.



Time's a-wastin', fellas. I suggest you tear out of the tunnel in week five and really impress your teammates, fans and coaches. Lucky for the both of yas, the HoG staff will be ready to pelt you with empty Pabst cans and slightly used syringes. Jackasses.


Read more

Peculiar Gesturing

I'm not sure what El Rey had in mind when he went to make this gesture, but I do know one thing. This story has gotten really old. The wife and I had a lovely stay in sunny Costa Rica. In the few moments I was able to escape to the bar, the only sports highlights available -- in extreme redundant nauseum I might ad -- had to do with a silly sport that's very popular down there.

I, for one, don't get it. The Royals were on a tear (thanks for keeping true to the "win while Bankmeister's out of the country then return to crappy baseball mantra upon his return" guys), the Sabres proved that I shouldn't try to pick a Stanley Cup Champion two months before the finals, and some other things in the wide wide world of sports happened as well. Like you, I didn't give two squirts about them.

Not at first anyway.

But I return home, and, strangely, find myself longing for more highlights of guys like these:

And guys that bow to/wave this:

Heck, even paying attention to guys that dress up like who knows what, just so they can root for their club and lock arms with Jose Lima's ex-wife other adoring fans would be cool at this point.

Anything to make the ever-so-sleepy Green/Peterson debate go away, and go away fast.

It wasn't easy down there. I had to learn what baseball statistical abbreviations in Spanish look like/mean. I had to wade through tired seas of sweaty Yankee-capped fans dancing salsa, and wait until every other piece of futbol-related news had been covered 400 times just to find out whether or not the Royals had won.

And this is what I come home to? Come on. Let's move on, already. We have a Huard brother. We have a mighty young SEC grad waiting in the wing. Let it play itself out. When the deal is over, let's cover it then. Not before.

I don't wanna get the Master of Verbalization all tired out before pre-pre-season mini-camps OTAs are over. Last time I checked, that would just be flustrating.

Read more