Inertia, My Old Friend

I am tired.

No real reason to be. No legitimate hectic pace at work or in my social life (shocking, I know). But am (il)legitimately exhausted.

Being a bundle of nerves is draining.

Wish that I were more productive, but at this point my attention span seems to be slightly less lengthy than the life-cycle of a fruit fly.

Have decided that, if I had my druthers, I would be a sportswriter. Why? Because sportswriters, more specifically, sports columnists are paid to be snarky and irreverant. The gushing and sucking up is left to the on-field/side line interviewers. Yes, Pedro Gomez, Lisa Guerrero and all the rest, I am questioning your legitimacy as sports journalists. Quelle horreur! Mon dieu! The relaying of hard stats and off-beat random facts are left to the play-by-play guys, the color commentators, and the beat writers (except for Joe Morgan, who is simply a blight on every broadcast which the audience is forced to endure him. No, Joe, no one cares to hear for the 38th time this inning that you played for the Big Red Machine and that you are in the Hall of Fame and that you think Moneyball is a load of crap. Someone has to get on getting some federal funding for a study into exactly how many murderous rampages were precipitated by the irritating sound of his nails-on-chalk-board hemming-and-hawing voice. Bet if Ted Kozinski ever gets his marbles back he would say it was Joe's voice that drove him to write his manifesto and to adopt such chic fashion directives...). Further, unlike sports anchors, sportswriters are even unencumbered of the need to be particularly snappy and/or cute. No one ever sees them and catch phrases are of minimal importance. Then again, a quick scan of the ESPN and the general Wide World of Sports landscape reveals that this may not even be such a stringent requirement for even sports anchors these days. Stuart Scott: "Boo-yah!"? Really? Still? Anything new? And the eye thing. I didn't want to say it. But it gets to me. You are always looking at me. Even when I am way over.... here! Bob Costas: Don't ever interview basketball players live again. It makes you look like early Opie of Andy Griffith fame. Chris Berman: Pink is not a good color on a large man. Not so slimming. Really. Just poached salmony-looking.

Guess when it is all said and done, I want to be Bill Simmons. Ah, the Sportguy. He gets to snark at his leisure about sports, pop culture, whatever. And everyone loves him.

Really what's not to like about a gig like that.