So is a blog different when you know people are reading? That’s my question to ask of myself. “Self,” I ask… So I just had my first ‘I found your blog via your web page from…‘ feedback, which startled me. I mean, I know a couple people read this, but it’s not like I’ve gone […]
So is a blog different when you know people are reading?
That’s my question to ask of myself. “Self,” I ask…
So I just had my first ‘I found your blog via your web page from…‘ feedback, which startled me. I mean, I know a couple people read this, but it’s not like I’ve gone out of my way to send people here. I do this for me, mostly. Actually I was sort of waiting to see if anyone actually found it by accident, which, to my surprise, happened.
So suddenly today – yesterday – I felt like I suddeny had to write somehing more important because, y’know, people are paying attention.
Blog Fright?
Something.
But it could be something else. I still have a a brain that’s made mostly from wood (cue ‘Little Wooden Head‘) from last week’s attack of bio-engineered-respiritory-system-dwelling-crab-people or whatever was in there. I can’t say I’m operating at anything like 100% capacity (hell, I’m lucky most days if I can reach a solid 50%, so I think ‘m down in single digits right now). So maybe my creativity has gone off to hide where lost socks go and it will turn up in a few days, static-clung to my hipster-coolguy-lucky13 shirt or my black-ninja-BDU-swat-team pants.
Crackle! Ah! Here it is! Now can I re-attach this with soap? Wendy? Can you sew this on please?
And think happy thoughts.
And I’d like to point out, I’m already over quota (over-quota? Somebody stop me) for hyphens in this entry, and have yet to say anything. Quick, send more hyphens!
And so endeth an era.
I gave up my SF 49ers season tickets yesterday.
After staying with the team through the firing of a good coach (George Siefert), hiring an unknown (Mooch), rebuilding and then more rebuilding, and sucking and then not sucking and then kind of sucking, firing of a great coach (Mooch) for an insane reason, and various and sundry mis-management, after staying for all that and proving I’m a fan by watching when the games sucked, and paying for a seat is a stadium that is a fucking pig sty…
It feels weird.
There’s a history. A friend-of-a-friend-of-a-(wait while I open another pack of hyphens)-friend sort of story. These tickets belong to this guy, but his kids stopped going (one moved away, the other moved farther away). But my friend James (and let’s just say right here, James fucking rules, but we’ll get to that later) sort of inherited one of these tickets, and my friend Chad inherited the other (Wait, I need a whole entry for Friends who Rule). So I got the extra stray ticket over the years, a game or two, then more. Finally the owner of said tickets gave up on going to every game, and the other two offered me control of that seat since I’d proved fandom. And so it’s been for several years now. Another friend, Eric (my best-dive-buddy-and-brother-I-never-had-but-with-questionable-politics) picked up the adjacent seat when it became available.
These seats have been in the family, so to speak, since ’81. I’ve been going for – I dunno. A lotta years now. James and Chad for a lot more. And it’s been good, good when the team won, good when the team lost, even good when we left early for what turned out to be the biggest come-from-behind win in playoff history vs the NY Giants.
But now. Now, with new families, busier jobs, tighter finances, and more interests taking our time and money; now, with the team’s management in a tailspin, and our top players being released, and our stadium ever more a pig-sty (And later, I shall tell the story of the hanging pigeon, a story with no end now, it seems, or no end I shall ever know).
And a brief aside – in a chat window, just now, I typed:
- Here’s a concept:
Teletubby phone sex.
Think on that.
And so I suggest to you – yes, think on that.
But anyway (This is bloging for the short-attention-span), with all this, we came to the conclusion, collectively, that the money and the commitment were too much given our growing level of frustration with the team and the facilities and our own shrinking time availabilities.
It was a strange and emotional moment. Like giving up on a team I’ve been supporting since the early 80’s. I know it’s not quite like that, and I’m still a fan and will still go to games when possible, but it did feel strange.
Now remind me about the pigeon story later…