Closing Thoughts and FUN LINKS!!!

 

Chuck Knoblauch: My wife's three inches taller than me.  How do we make it so I don't look like a jackass?
Photographer: Don't worry.  I've got an idea.

 


Because the topic of fighting has already been thoroughly beleaguered on this blog, I’m just going to leave you with a few points and after we can get to some fun links so that we can all be friends again.  

First, I wanted to point out that further research did turn up a few articles stating that the Belak family has said that his hanging was accidental.  A fact that would lend significant evidence to Nick Healey’s assertion that Belak’s death was the tragic result of auto-erotic asphyxiation.  I would also point out, however, that these same articles note that Wade Belak’s mother did come forward and say that her son was suffering from depression.  This isn’t evidence of CTE of course, but it does strike me as worthy of note that Wade’s mother would point out his depression after explaining that he didn’t commit suicide intentionally.  Almost as if she wanted people to be cognizant of the psychological problems Wade was silently suffering from even if he didn’t mean to take his own life.  

I’ll just leave you with a question and then promise to take an indefinite break from the topic: how often have you watched a NHL game and honestly thought to yourself, ‘that game would have been better if someone had fought during it?’  If your answer ‘all the time!!!’ then I’d argue that there is a lot about the game that you’re missing out on.  If your answer is, ‘never,’ then I think its at least worth looking into whether fighting is such a crucial part of our game.

* * *

So, links!  That’s what people do on blogs right?  

I’m on twitter now y’all.  (Follow me @jwjarvis05...please.)  My embarrassingly recent discovery reminds me of when, in the 90s, we bought my grandfather a microwave.  Suddenly, if was all he talk about it.  It was like he invented it.  I am my grandfather and twitter is my microwave.  And, my goodness, what a marvelous device this microwave is!  For instance, did you know that Evan Longoria is on a juice diet?!  BELIEVE IT!  

#lovin'thisjuicefasty'all!

Also, Richard Justice of mlb.com has placed the Toronto Blue Jays ahead of the Mariners and Cubs as the team he thinks most likely to land generously proportioned free agent, Prince Fielder!  Most baseball nerds out there are going to temper their hopes of the Blue Jays landing Fielder because Toronto’s General manager and resident baby faced hustla, Alex Anthopoulos, has stated that he isn’t interested in signing player’s to long contracts.  And though I would tend to agree with this reasoning, sources (you shut up!  I do too have sources) have told me that teams are shying away from Fielder due to a worry that, like close friend, Ryan Braun, his beastmode abilities are merely a symptom of steroids.  If that is at all true, I think it increases the chances that Anthopolis might be interested in him as he has shown a proclivity to pick up players with high talent ceilings when their stock is at its lowest.  (See: Yunel Escobar and Colby Rasmus.)


Jed Lowrie’s time with the Red Sox has apparently ended before it ever had a real chance to begin with the young shortstop going to Houston for Mark Melancon.  Houston get a shortstop with a lot of upside if he can stay healthy.  Boston gets a reliever with closer potential.  Ryan Madson gets to know what its like to come very very close to owning tens of millions of dollars.


And finally, Sports Illustrated has provided us with a reminder of how glamorous the 1990s were with a slide show of pro athletes and their wags taken from that magical and stylistically timeless decade.  My advice for enjoying this slide show is to keep reminding yourself of the fact that most these people are multi-millionaires.  


SPORTS!

Sorry to Keep Hitting You Over the Head With This

During the off season the NHL announced the addition of several new rules implemented in the hopes of both reducing the number of concussions endured by players and eliminating the type of play that led to them.  The addition of these rules represents--at the very least--an acknowledgement that the NHL needed to change the way the game was played in order to protect its players.  As I have said, the implementation of such protocol was long overdue and by finally putting it in place the league is indeed taking a small step forward.  It would seem to me, however, that as long as we’re trying to eliminate the type of play that causes concussions, why don’t we get rid of the part where 250lb men punch each other in the head as hard as they can with bare fists?  

Happily, Commissioner Gary Bettman provides an explanation for the seemingly paradoxical existence of fist fighting in a league determined to cut out concussions.  In an interview he did for John Branch’s amazing New York Times article chronicling the life of Derek Boogaard, Bettman explains that “there isn’t a lot of data, and the experts who [they’ve] talked to, who consult with us, think that it’s way premature to be drawing any conclusions at this point.”  Now, I don’t want to question the professionalism of your “experts,” Gar.  But, a group of people who think its “way premature” to connect concussions to getting punched in the head by--what is essentially--a professional fighter, sound like a conveniently tentative group of motherfuckers to me.

If the league is truly serious about protecting the grey matter of all (read: even the ones that aren’t Sidney Crosby) of its employees they really have no choice but to take steps that would eliminate hockey fighting from the game.  Obviously, five minutes in the penalty box has proven to be an unsatisfactory deterrence.  I would further argue that even a one or two game suspension would not go far enough as enforcers are frequently healthy scratches for that amount of time anyway.  If the NHL wanted to remove fighting from the game the punishment would have to be much more severe.  As I see it,  the most productive way of devising this punishment would be to take into account the amount of time a person requires to recover from a concussion and base it around that.

The sportsmd.com article regarding CTE that I sited previously stated that new studies have shown that “85% of concussions require about three weeks of recovery.”  Given that teams play roughly three games a week I figure a ten game suspension would not only provide a fighter with the necessary recovery time, it would force the hand of NHL general managers and coaches.  Even if an enforcer was being paid the league minimum it wouldn’t be worth it for a team to sacrifice salary cap space to employ him if he had to sit out for three weeks every time he did the thing he was being paid to do.  Of course, the only way this new arrangement would work is if it was--like most rule changes--also implemented in the AHL.  Otherwise, teams could simply keep a stockpile of fighters ready to take on the role of enforcer any time theirs was lost to suspension.

Unfortunately, given Gary Bettman’s above statement it would seem that the NHL has yet to even properly identify the league’s biggest problem and so it is unlikely that they will be making steps to rectify it any time in the near future.  What one hopes is that once the NHL find sufficient evidence that a possible symptom of being punched repeatedly in the head is a concussion, they will also figure out that the decision to remove fighting is completely up to them.  Ultimately, the temptation to play in the NHL is too great for the average person.  And, this is made clear by the fact that despite seeing the life of an enforcer effectively kill his brother, Aaron Boogard is currently toiling in the CHL in the hopes of becoming one himself.  In the conclusion of Branch’s article it is revealed that though Aaron’s mother has pleaded with him to quit, the young man feels trapped by his lack of options.  “Honestly,” he explains, “what else am I going to do?”

Must Read: Punched Out: The Life and Death of a Hockey Enforcer By John Branch

In my post we looked at what I hope was fairly convincing evidence that the NHL needs to reconsider the existence of bare knuckle boxing within the game of hockey.  What I particularly wanted to emphasize--other than the fact that the NHL has not done one thing to protect their enforcers--was the idea that the choice of being an enforcer in the professional leagues is fairly complicated when one takes into account the time/money invested by parents and family, not to mention, the money and fame that a player stands to earn etc.

A better way of doing this would have been to write a six part series on the life and evolution of late NHL enforcer, Derek Boogaard.  Which, conveniently, is exactly what John Branch of the New York Times has done:  http://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/04/sports/hockey/derek-boogaard-a-boy-learns-to-brawl.html

Notable and heartbreaking quotes include (but are definitely not limited to):

“Last winter, a friend said, a neurologist asked Boogaard to estimate how many times his mind went dark and he needed a moment to regain his bearings after being hit on the head, probable sings of a concussion.  Four?  Five?  Boogaard laughed.  Try hundreds, he said.”

“If you’re playing pond hockey, 6 or 7 years old, and somebody said, ‘Hey Brantt, the only way you’re going to make it to the NHL is fighting your way there,’ you think I would have done it?”  No way.  I would have done something else.”

As well as a statement made by former enforcer Brantt Myhres that attempts to put the daily stresses placed on enforcers into perspective:

“Imagine you go pick a guy that’s 6-4, 220 pounds, and say, ‘Why don’t we meet here on the street in two days, and we’ll slug it out and see how it goes?’  I guarantee [that during those three days] you’ll be a mess.”

Anyone, clinging to the idea that this is a necessary part of our game needs to read this series. Go do it now, please. 

Alls Well That Ends Well

Last week Sidney Crosby played hockey for the Pittsburgh Penguins, mercifully ending an “are we there yet” line of questioning that began roughly eleven months ago and ended happily ever after last Monday with a four point performance by the Wizard of Cros against perennial powerhouse, the New York Islanders.  What a relief!  As an article posted Tuesday morning on tsn.ca entitled “The Next Chapter” will tell you, anyone still worried about the fact that nothing has really changed in the game of hockey since Crosby’s injury need only to look at the numbers: Crosby has eleven points in five games!  Case closed you bunch of pussies.  Hockey’s back!  

Of course, Sidney’s concussion was not the only non-Vancouver-riot story to come out of the NHL in the past year.  The other thing that happened was four NHL enforcers died.  

Now, if lumping the deaths of four young men into one issue strikes you as an almost criminally callous treatment of four separate tragedies, I wouldn’t argue with you.  I would argue, however, that the changes made by the NHL during the off season reveal that the league has not even gone as far as to consider the deaths of these four enforcers as an issue unto itself. 

Instead, Brendan Shanahan took over as the NHL’s chief disciplinarian and promptly passed rule 48 which made blindside shots to the head a punishable offense.  And though I agree that this was a necessary and long overdue adjustment, I can’t help but feel like the NHL looked at the concussion of its biggest star and the deaths of four peripheral players and made changes that would ensure Sidney Crosby never suffers another concussion again.  

With the untimely death of four players, questions surrounding whether or not the NHL was going to lose yet another young star to concussion, and an unspeakable tragedy in the KHL, it was undoubtedly an unprecedentedly terrible off season for professional hockey.  So, it’s not surprising that the NHL would feel pressure to do some serious wagging of the dog in the hopes of preserving some semblance of a public image.  And, this is exactly what the league did.  A huge show has been made of the NHL’s crackdown on blindside body checks that target another player’s head.  The problem is, they have done nothing to prevent the hits to the head--that is, hits delivered by a fist--that medical researchers are linking to the destructive and suicidal behaviour we are seeing in NHL enforcers.  

In an ominously edifying article written for CBC news, Daniel Schwartz interviewed Boston University neurosurgeon, Robert Cantu.  Cantu’s study of the brains of deceased athletes has led to a better understanding of a disease formerly thought to only afflict boxers known as Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy or CTE.  Cantu’s research--which has already found CTE in the brains of former NHL enforcers, Bob Probert and Reggie Fleming--has lead him to believe that CTE could be at the root of the suicidal behaviour that claimed the lives of, Ryan Rypien and Wade Belak.  Cantu explains that those suffering from CTE are more likely to suffer from depression due to the fact that the illness impairs both their impulse and emotional control.  

Sports MD has a helpful breakdown of the disease, explaining that CTE is characterized by the build up of an abnormal protein called Tau in sections of the brain where it is not usually found.  These Tau buildups, primarily caused by “repetitive brain injury,” disrupt the parts of the brain where they are found.  Dr. Cantu states that with people suffering from CTE the highest concentration of Tau is found in the medial temporal lobe which “has function of: memory, impulse control, addiction, emotions, depression and anxiety.”  Derek Boogaard died of a lethal combination of painkillers and alcohol and the mothers of Rick Rypien and Wade Belak have come forward confirming that both men suffered from depression.  Of course, this is far from proof that any of these men suffered from CTE but as the popular Maple Leafs blog, The Leafs Nation has said of Rypien’s death, “if anybody wants to place a cash bet that it wasn’t suicide and he didn’t have CTE I’m willing to give you good odds.”

Now, many of you will be quick to point out that by preventing body-checks to the head the NHL is indeed preventing the sort of injury that may lead to CTE.  I would argue that given the frequency with which this illness is found in boxers and NFL linemen that what Shanahan is attempting to do is a good first step but ultimately this initiative is completely misdirected.  What the league really needs to worry about aren’t the players who suffer concussions from the occasional body-check to the head but rather, the players who livelihood consists of little more than being hit in the head.  

Which brings us to the awkward part.  I recently had a discussion (read: screaming match) with several friends and upon bringing up the aforementioned points I was asked what exactly it was I was suggesting.  Did I want to forever neuter the game of hockey by removing the fighting aspect from it?  Did I want to remove the players’ ability to police themselves?  If this was the kind of sissy game I wanted, why didn’t I just watch soccer?  Admitting that I was suggesting that fighting be removed from the game was difficult.  Truth be told, I was a hockey fight apologist as recently as this year.  (Which is to say, I didn’t see the harm in it until four NHL enforcers died or committed suicide seemingly within half an hour of each other.)  Before this, I was concerned that by removing the players’ option to police themselves the NHL would have to protect their athletes by having referees call hockey games in a fashion similar to the way English Premiership referees call soccer matches.  And though the prospect of reducing hockey to the halty, awkward pace of soccer--or worse still, basketball--was not something I was terribly comfortable with, what I have become more uncomfortable with is having young men put themselves in line for what Sports MD describes as, “the only preventable form of dementia”  in the name of my entertainment.  

Which leads us to another point frequently brought up in the defence of hockey fighting: free will.  After all, no one is forcing these guys to take on the enforcer roll.  And even if CTE has only recently been discovered in hockey players, surely the risks of fist fighting for a living are pretty self evident.  To this I would point to the fact when a teenager realizes that the only way he can fulfill the dream that he and his parents have committed countless pre-dawn practices, hours of driving, and years of 365 day hockey seasons to is to become an enforcer, I ask you, how much freedom is there in that choice?  These very young men are not making this decision in a vacuum and no one would pretend that the reward is insignificant.  (If you would like to read a hugely informative article on both the psychological and phsyical consequences of the pressures placed on young athletes please read Malcolm Gladwell’s, Offensive Play.)  What’s more is having committed such an enormous section of their formative years preparing to be professional hockey players, how can we possibly expect their other options to measure up to the allure of joining a fraternity of the only celebrated heroes that Canadian culture has ever been able to produce?

What defenders of hockey fighting and the NHL have to remember is that our legal system contains countless laws that solely exist as a means of protecting people from themselves.  Given the obvious reasons not to drive drunk there shouldn’t need to be a law forcing us not to do it.  But the fact remains that despite our better judgement and the possibly fatal consequences, people are going to be tempted to risk their lives for the sake of convenience or laziness or whatever else.  What’s more, drunk drivers are willing to take on these risks without the added temptation of the fame and the millions of dollars that NHL enforcers stand to earn.  Ultimately, young hockey players are being offered a deal they cannot refuse and it is because of this that the NHL needs to take responsibility and protect the league’s fourth line players with the same enthusiasm as they protect their stars.

 

So Now That We're All Friends

With the continuation of the Toronto Maple Leafs' record breaking absence from the NHL post-season I am about to do something I am absolutely loathe to do two weeks into the month of June: discuss hockey.

Here is an occurrence that is only too common for fans of a proper summer sport who live in the city of Toronto and I presume only more commonly elsewhere across this large and often puzzling country:

Scene 1

Two friends sit down in front of a television excited to watch the ball game. "I can't wait to watch this Jays game! Its so handy that our team is owned by a company that also owns a television station so coverage of our favourite baseball team is basically ensured!"

"That is handy! Quick, turn it over to Sportsnet."

"Hey, wait a second. The main channel seems to be broadcasting a hockey tournament for teenagers. What is this?"

"The Memorial Cup? This isn't even a professional league! It says that the ball game is being played on Sportnet 1."

"I don't have Sportsnet 1! Its too expensive and 90% of the time its just an endless stream of poker tournaments."

"Do people still care about poker?"

"I think so. I think it was because of the movie Rounders."

"Oh. That makes sense. I love Matt Damon."

Sadly, "yeah, I love Matt Damon too."

Scene 2

Man enters a pub and approaches bar. "Excuse me barkeep, but I was hoping I might order a few of your refreshing beverages and sit here in quiet support our local professional baseball club. No need to put the sound on, after all, I'm white and between the ages of 20 and 30 so this mix of classic rock will do nicely. Hey, is that Van Morrison? Neat!"

Bartender drops the glass he was polishing and it shatters on the floor. "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?! DON'T YOU KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING TONIGHT?! THE VANCOUVER CANUCKS ARE PLAYING THE NASHVILLE PREDATORS! ITS GAME THREE! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE YOU CANADA-HATING SON OF A BITCH!"

And scene. Now, as frustrating as it is to not be able to watch a local team at the majority of one's local bars, what I really can't stand is having to listen to supposed Leaf and Canadien and Senator fans cheering for this year's great white hope, the Vancouver Canucks.

So yes, this is going to be a blog post about the trend of Canadian fans jumping on the bandwagon of whichever Canadian team has a chance of winning the Stanley Cup. Not earth-shatteringly original but something needs to be said.

I know some of you out there are already cringing at the inevitability of my making the argument that the Bruins employ more Canadian players (as is strangely always the case with American teams in this scenario) and are thus more qualified to represent our country. But I'm not going to. Or at least, I'm not going make further mention of it. Because—and I really want to stress this—these are professional teams staffed by professional athletes, most of which are playing miles from home and are being paid millions of dollars by large corporations to do so. It is completely ludicrous to affix any sort of patriotic pride in any of these organizations and I can't help but feel that this nationalistic desperation must make us seem, at best, like lousy fans of our local teams and at worst, kind of pathetic.

As you are, no doubt, aware—especially you jerk fans of the Rouge, Bleu et blanc—a Canadian hockey team has not won a National Hockey League title since 1993. What I find puzzling is how Canadian hockey fans insist on bemoaning this fact as if it is evidence that our national sport has been stolen from us and with every American Stanley Cup win, further debased. The same people will look at a second place result for the Canadian national team at an international tournament not as evidence of the growth and strength of our sport internationally but rather, as proof that our children are being neglected by parents who obviously hate them. The actual fact of the matter is, in the NHL, American teams outnumber Canadian clubs roughly four to one. And though this imbalance has increased as a result of the misguided leadership of our league's weasel-faced commissioner, even casual fans will remember that professional hockey teams north of the border have been outnumbered ever since the days when the combined total of professional teams on either side was six. I can't help but feel that viewing a series between the Vancouver Canucks and the Boston Bruins as Canada versus America is not only neglecting a mathematical reality, it is also doing something that strikes me as, frankly, very American. Surely, Canadian sports fans are sophisticated enough to realize that such jingoistic notions are below them. Surely, we are too enlightened a people to entertain the thought that something as abstract as a country as enormous and diverse as Canada could be reduced to a single philosophical entity. Right?

Many of the people who I have spoken to have argued that the reason they root for the Canadian team at this point in the season is because they know that a Stanley Cup win will mean infinitely more to a Canadian city than it would to an American one. And though I know this to be true, I can't say that I really give a shit. Now, some of you are no doubt thinking to yourselves, “hold on Jarvis, are you saying that if the Edmonton Oilers were playing the Tampa Bay Lightning in the final you'd be rooting for the team from Florida?” To which, I would have to concede...YES, YES, A MILLION TIMES, YES. I would rather the story of the Stanley Cup winning team's victory be told on the third page in the sports section of the Tampa Tribune with no picture below an article about a regular season win by a local high school baseball team, than to have to read a headline that said, “Canadian hockey team not from Toronto ends 18 year Canadian Cup draught.” The reasons for this lack of Canadian camaraderie are twofold: first, I know many people who support Canadian non-Leaf hockey teams. Second, I am very, very petty.

This pettiness is both the result of nature and nurture. As a Leafs fan who has spent considerable amounts of time living both in French and Western Canada, I have frequently had the pleasure of enjoying the unique form of Canadian camaraderie that Torontonians receive from the rest of this country. I, for example, am very skeptical that if in the distant, distant, distant, future, the Leafs were facing the Nashville Predators in the Stanley Cup final, that the rest of country would get behind our boys in blue and happily anoint them “Canada's team.” I think it far more likely that we'd be hearing about how Nashville captain, Shea Webber, is a Canadian hero. Or that if, Predator goalie, Pekke Rinne could be from one other country other than Finland, it would be Canada and that he is especially appreciative of how, even in the winter, the sun still shines.  Of course, I'll admit that the argument equivalent of, “well, they started it,” is not terribly thoughtful or mature but I would be quick to point out that neither is jumping out of your seat because a man in a certain coloured uniform was able to deposited a rubber disc into a twine cage. Neither is breaking into American Apparels because your Montreal Canadiens made it past the second round. Neither is dressing in green spandex suits and taunting opposing team's penalized players. NEITHER IS ANY OF THIS SHIT. What I think is mature is realizing that fundamental to enjoying the pleasure of winning is enduring the pain of losing and I can't help but be annoyed by fans who try to sidestep this reality by forgetting the loyalties instilled in them by a lifetime of supporting a team through thick and thin and arbitrarily rooting for another club because of a ludicrous and misplaced sense of patriotism.

Now, fans of this blog will no doubt scream, “Now James, what happened to all this sports as an articulation of civilization business?! Wouldn't putting down arms and joining forces with your former Canadian foes be a perfect example of how sport can bring us together?” To which, I would answer, nope, not really. I don't know about you but my experience with talking to fellow sports fans about sports has far more frequently been hours of endless drunken arguments about ultimately insignificant topics that have no real answer, than reasoned discussions ultimately ending in a warm and fuzzy realization of our shared humanity. And a large part of why I believe professional sports demonstrates how good we have it is because—similar to having the time to read a good book or learn to play an instrument or write interminable blog posts—having the freedom and time to watch or talk or argue about sports is something that is simply not afforded to the majority of people on this planet. The fact that we can find articles debating whether Michael Jordan or Lebron James is better at playing basketball in the New York fucking Times suggests to me that, relatively speaking, we don't have very much to worry about and for this we should consider ourselves very, very lucky.

I wanted to include a list of reasons that I'm rooting for the Bruins but I feel already as if I have been writing this post for most of my adult life and the fact that I have written university level essays about the Heart of Darkness that are several hundred words shorter than this is starting to irk me. Here's the deal, if the Bruins push it to a game seven tonight I will write that post. If the Canucks put it away, I'll quickly have to forget ever mentioning any of this.

Also, I have a note here that the only bit of sports reporting I did in the first post ended up being false. As you likely know by now, Brett Lawrie was placed on the Las Vegas 51s disabled list because of a broken bone in his hand and will be out for at least two to three weeks. Womp womp. 

Oh Hey

There’s something existential about writing your first blog post.  What is this?  Who am I talking to?  If petty English majors* directed by desperate Facebook pleas only begrudgingly read it in the hopes that it is terrible and that they will hate it, does it really exist?  These daunting questions have, for too long now, prevented me from taking advantage of this forum despite it being a total freebie that any jerk can add to their resume knowing that--like your references--90% of your prospective employers are going to be too lazy to even look at them let alone read them.  More importantly, in having a barely working laptop and stolen access to the restaurant below my apartment's internet, I have all the necessary qualifications to write one of these bad boys.  Or, as it was explained by the person who finally convinced me to write this thing, "any asshole can write one so...you know...you should do it."  

So maybe we'll start with the first question.  What is this?  Well, as you can hopefully glean from the brilliantly punny title (Full credit to Mark Heystee and Scott Harrison.  The two of them called me this for several weeks before I clued in to it potentially having a meaning beyond adding 'bag' to the abbreviated version of my name.) the blog is going to vaguely concern itself with sports.  

No wait!  Hear me out on this.  

I've chosen sports because, first, coming up with ideas is tough!  And second, sports happen--and this is especially true for fans of baseball--basically everyday and its my hope that this constant influx of activity will provide me with sufficient grist for this digital mill.  Furthermore, I like sports.  A lot.  And when confronted with individuals who are ambivalent or dislike or possess a hatred for them more that is more intense than Milton Bradley’s opinion of Cub fans (first sports reference!  Yay!), it only further encourages me to find some story or character from the seemingly endless history of athletic achievement that will spark the interest of said non-believers.  

Many will be quick to criticize modern-day professional athletics as nothing more than an overindulgent pastime that allows socially-inept, out of shape non-contributors to waste countless hours in front of a television watching millionaire freaks of nature play a game.  To them I say, "hey, shut up."  But would also, somewhat apologetically, add that though spending three hours--or in the case of a Yankees/Red Sox game, six hours (Hiyo!  There's another one!)--watching baseball is indeed, a hugely decadent use of my time, I believe it is in this way that professional sports can be viewed as an articulation of civilization.  The fact that I can concern myself with when Blue Jay prospect, Brett Lawrie is going to be brought up from the farm (So soooon!!! Eeeek!), instead of say, trying to figure out if a dog has been dead too long for me to safely eat it, is a dramatic demonstration that in relation to a lot of people I am very lucky.  This is not lost on me and I would hope that it isn't lost on anyone who has ever read an article on tsn.ca, let alone managed a fantasy baseball team.  

So there you have it.  I hope this gives you some sense of what your in store for here at The Jim Bag.  Much like an actual gym bag there will be a mix of vaguely athletic things combined with a completely random assortment of things you probably didn't expect to find.  Like deodorant.  Speaking of which, is anyone else convinced that their deodorant is almost certainly going to give them arm-pit cancer?  If you comment on one thing from this post, let it be this issue.  I'm really uneasy with aluminum's role in helping me smell, "Extreme!"  

And finally, because for the past several months I have been using this short animated film to make friends, I thought it appropriate to leave you with it.  



*I am talking specifically about myself.  Sorry.  I thought your blog was...fine.