So Rong Ribrary

And then it was gone. Over the weekend the Pottster and I loaded up a UHAUL and bid adieu to the beacon on the hill, otherwise known as Library Courts. We had a good run for the past 13 months, but like they say, all good things come to an end. It was a bittersweet parting, but I think we have enough vending machine follies, pizza delivery car towing, typo filled notices and breakfast nook memories to last a lifetime. So, aroha Ribrary, and may our paths cross again in the future.

Not all is lost however as Schling, Beercan and I all moved into the great unknown, aka DC itself, and will most assuredly undertake new and exciting adventures. We all moved in different places, but we are all close, and you can bet your ass I’ll be over at Pott’s place on game days to catch the action on his new 52” flat screen. Life is good.

Yours truly found an open room for rent in a detached house with a big back yard, and it seems the Oceanliner has stumbled into a virtual paradise. For one, the backyard is loaded with side by side grills, one gas and one charcoal. Niiiiice. Two, my room actually has windows this year. Still no closet, by hey I’m making strides. Then there are the occupations of my new house mates. One works in sales and marketing for the Washington Wizards and gets free tickets galore to all events at the Verizon Center, not just NBA games. The second works for the biggest beer distributor in the city and brings home free beer every day. You read that correctly. There is a mini fridge in the dining room with free roommate beer. I have already indulged numerous times. Some of the beers he brings home aren’t even on the market yet. Today when I go home I can try between two Sam Adams prototypes. The third roommate is a biomedical engineer for the American Red Cross, so if you need any blood, holler atcha boy. I bet you’re reading this and wondering “Well shit, what does Oelschlager bring to the table?” My patented sarcasm and fairly shallow observations, that’s what. Which leads us perfectly into my random thought of the week(s).

Stating the Obvious of the Week:

My Nats are truly horrendous. After a smoking July which saw them go an impressive 5-19 (that’s a .208 winning percentage for those of you scoring at home), the DC 9 sat at the bottom of the standings as the worst team in baseball. It is not hard to figure out why the Nats are so bad. In baseball, you need to be able to hit to win games. The Nats can’t hit, thus it makes sense that they can’t win games. On August 1st, the Nats were last in the whole sport in runs, hits, batting average, on base percentage and slugging percentage. They are batting .241 as a team. Oy vey. But hey, I still love going to games.

Regurgitated Stat of the Week

The Yankees should have thrown a parade when Manny Ramirez got traded to the Dodgers. Check out Manny’s career stats against the Bronx Bombers:

.321 batting average, 1,029 OPS, 55 home runs, 163 RBI’s in 200 games

Good golly, Miss Molly. Somehow I doubt Jason Bay is going to put the fear of God into anybody on the Yankees pitching staff the way Manny did.

Idea That Will Never See Fruition of the Week

The wave is one of the grandest of sporting traditions, but it really needs a better way to end. Once it gets going the wave is a very impressive spectacle. But nothing is quite as demoralizing as watching the wave slowly die down a peter out with the last 26 oblivious fans in the stadium still going nuts. I don’t know how to do it, but people need to agree on say, three full rotations around the stadium and then everyone yells Charge! or something. I don’t know the solution, but there’s got to be one.

You see that there folks? That’s classic Oceanliner tact: point out a problem and not offer a way to fix it. I feel like a political commentator already. Hey-yo!

Reevaluation of Priorities of the Week

Austin and I were waiting behind some dude at the grocery store last week at the Red Box thing where you can rent movies. After pondering his selection for a solid ten minutes, the guy choose…Step Up 2: The Streets. This dude needs to stop the presses if Step Up 2 is his entertainment destination. This is the movie whose tagline is

It's not where you're from. It's where you're at.

That’s deep. And you know any movie that has this as an image will be transcending:


Yes, somebody paid money to watch this movie. And yes, someone paid money, a lot of money, to make this movie. And people wonder why I get so worked up sometimes.

Comment of the Week

During the coverage of the British Open Gauntlet, Ian Baker Finch had the best line by far, simply stating, “Well, it’s a good day to be a kite, at least.”

(Shhhhhh. That quote was from like two weeks ago. Shhhhhhh.)

Headscratcher of the Week

In news that is somewhat interesting, fairly mundane and completely inconsequential, I found out last week while watching a Phillies-Nats game that 45 year old Phillies pitcher Jamie Moyer is married to the daughter of ESPN college basketball analyst Digger Phelps. Who knew?

You Know How This Part Goes

Well, that’s it for this week folks. After Yatesing/Gutiing/Spencing the last column, I’ll end this one by Samming it. Stay safe, keep it real and oooooouuuuuuu! (throwing back my head and kicking with one leg)

I'm Yatesing This Column

Sorry guys, no time for apost this week. I'm busy and I'm moving on Saturday. Check back in next week for a guaranteed Oceanliner fix. Godspeed.

Bu-Bu-buuwwwwhhhaatttt? Stat of the Week

In today's NBA, it is one of the lead items on SportsCenter when a player goes for a triple double the night before. It has become a fairly rare occurance, with Jason Kidd and King James the only players able to do it at a decent pace (they were the only players to do it more than 5 times last year). Which makes it all the more incredible and jaw dropping that in 1961-1962, Oscar Robertson averaged a triple double for the entire season. That's right folks, averaged. The Big O's line for the season reads something like this:

30.8 points, 12.5 rebounds, 11.4 assists

Try this on for size: Robertson did this in his second season as a pro! Absorutety ridicurous is what that it. Let's drag this one out. There were 40 triple doubles among all players in the NBA last year. Robertson had 41 by himself in '61-'62. This man was good at basketball.

Headlines

And You Thought Glubiak Was Slow…

Wednesday was officially the slowest day of the sports year. Baseball was off for its only day all summer because of the All Star Break. The NBA, NFL, and NHL are in their off-season. The NBA, NFL and MLB drafts have already happened. There are no college sports of any kind going on. The US Open in tennis isn’t until September. The British Open in golf didn’t start until Thursday (and Tiger isn’t there to boot). Wednesday is the deadest day of the NASCAR week as they are squarely between races. The US Olympic Trials are over. Arena Football playoffs are only on the weekends. Hell, there weren’t even any Major League Soccer games. The only “sports” we got on Wednesday were two measly WNBA games. Somehow I doubt the Chicago Sky-Detroit Shock 66-63 snoozer led off SportsCenter on Thursday morning.

…But Not As Slow As A WNBA Player

I feel kinda bad for the WNBA. On a day when there were no other professional or collegiate sports of any kind in the entire country, the two WNBA games barely got 10 seconds on SportsCenter. If anything is an indication of how little traction this league has, than that is it. When you get beat out by Bret Favre’s interview with Greta Van Susternenenenen, the Titletown montage of Valdosta, Georgia (seriously?) and a story about the NFL investigating gang sings (seriously), you need to go back to the drawing board. (Psssssst. Candace Parker dunking is not going to do it)

Nuggets Trade Marcus Camby for a Bologna Sandwich

On Tuesday, the Nuggets traded Marcus Camby to the Clippers “for the option to swap second-round picks in 2010.” I know that Denver was trying to unload salary, but good God, talk about a fleecing. Every other team in the league probably slammed their head in the door in frustration after this deal went through. Who would have thought offering a guaranteed second round pick would be a sweeter deal than the Nuggets ended up getting. I bet every Denver fan felt like they quick a quick kick to the nuts. And bravo to the Clippers for rebounding nicely after Elton Brand threw them two fingers and headed for Philly. It makes you wonder what Denver would ask for in a trade for one of their scrubs, much less a solid starter like Camby. We might see something like this in the paper later in the summer: “Nuggets trade Yakhouba Diawara (yes, an actual Nuggets player) for a sweet paper airplane.”

Number of Wahoos in the NBA Doubles After Singletary Signs With Kings

Sadly, this headline is absolutely true. Singletary joins Roger Mason Jr as the only Virginia alums in the league right now. I am really happy for Singletary though, as he can finally relax as he has some guaranteed money coming his way now after all the hard work invested in four tough years in Charlottesville. Terms of the deal were not disclosed, but the league minimum for rookies is $442,114, which is not too shabby at all. Singletary is the number two point guard in Sacramento behind Beno Udrich, so he should be looking at some solid minutes this year, especially considering how bad the Kings are going to be. The other NBA Wahoo, Mason, recently cashed in nicely by signing a two year, $7.5 million dollar deal with the Spurs. Not a bad spot to be in. You know, I’m surprised that the Virginia NBA list has not grown even higher; I mean Pett is available…

Francis Scott Key Rolls Over in His Grave

Did anyone catch Sheryl Crow perform the national anthem before the All Star Game? It was absolutely putrid and a disgrace to this country. Of course she had to come out with her guitar, so she ruined an already terrible vocal rendition of the Star Spangled Banner by plucking random notes (seriously) on her acoustic guitar at the same time. Eminent Ribrary Courts roommate Schling and I thought it couldn’t get worse than 3 Doors Down performing before the Home Run Derby (again, seriously), where they played their “hit” song It’s Not My Time. What an awful song title to play before a Home Run Derby, It’s NOT My Time? Seriously? But then Crow came out and “sang” the national anthem on Tuesday and made a traveshamockey of it. Horrible. This will only make the world hate us more.

Sheryl Crow’s Mom Seen Wandering the Streets of DC

Last weekend on a 95 degree Saturday, Austin and I saw a crazy 65 year old woman wandering the streets of Northwest DC wearing a sweatshirt, sweatpants, a purple dentist assistants’ vest, a pink bucket hat and aqua socks (yes aqua sucks) walking up and down the sidewalk playing a guitar strapped over her shoulder and singing incomprehensibly. You can’t make this shit up.

Sheryl Crow’s Aunt Seen in Arlington 3 Days Later

Stopped at a red light on the way to work one morning this week, I looked into the lane next to me and saw an old woman open her car door and pour out the remaining half of an MGD beer can. It was 8:30 in the morning. Sheesh.

ESPN to Create New Reality Show Called “The Hills: Phil Mickelson’s Buys a Bra”

You can add Titletown to the growing list of reasons why ESPN is going down the toilet. Its stupidity, pointlessness and annoyance lies somewhere between The Greatest Highlight and Who’s Now, and makes you shake your head in disappointment. Show more highlights! That’s why people watch SportsCenter…to see sports highlights!!! I certainly don’t want to see Wendi Nix talk to Al Kaline for 10 minutes about why Detroit deserves to be named Titletown (seriously, I saw this). It is sad to see such a giant pissing its bread and butter away.

XXXX wins the Gauntlet (aka the British Open)

That shit they are playing over there right now is a completely different sport than golf. It’s survival. The whole point of golf is to walk around a beautiful course for a couple of hours enjoying the beautiful weather and the scenery. It’s not meant to be played in 55 degrees, 15-20 mile per hour winds, 4 foot tall grass and Everest survival gear. I’ve never seen golfers look more miserable in their lives.

NBA to Create New Mid Level Exception for Werewolves

Now that Marc Gasol (Pau’s brother) has signed with the Grizzlies, there are now two smelly Spaniards in the NBA that have no idea when to say ‘enough is enough’ with regards to facial hair. Here are pictures of the two brothers. Be careful not to look after eating a large meal.

Josh Hamilton Cures Cancer…And Did You Know He Has An Amazing Story!

When are broadcasters going to be able to say Josh Hamilton’s name without attaching the obligatory “what a great story he is” to it? 6 months? 1 year? 5? Ever? Everyone in the country already knows that he overcame a crack addiction and Sports Illustrated already ran a great cover story on it. Now it’s just getting super annoying and repetitive. I don’t care what a great story he is when he flies out in the top of the 4th in a June game in Seattle.

I’ll See You In Hell, Costanza

Well, that’s it for this week folks. I hope everyone is enjoying their summer as much as I am and that you will soon buy my sun screen spot miser detector. Until the next time, stay safe, keep it real and get weird.

Bu-Bu-buuwwwwhhhaatttt? Stat of the Week

Who Likes Steroids?

Brett Boone did, that’s who. Before the 2001 season, the diminutive second baseman had enjoyed a solid but not spectacular career as a good fielding shortstop with a decent bat. He was somewhat of a journeyman, playing for Seattle, Cincinnati, Atlanta and San Diego before coming back to the Mariners before said 2001 season. This is a player who had never hit more than 24 home runs or drove in more than 112 RBI in a season and has a career batting average of .266. In other words, nothing special. And then, “magically”, at age 32, Boone reeled off these numbers:

.331 average, 37 home runs, 141 RBI

I hope the face you are making is just as skeptical as the one plastered on my face, the one that should always accompany an unbiased review of Mr. Boone’s numbers. What a joke. This was a 5’10”, 180 pound joker of a second baseman who suddenly started hitting like Mickey Mantle at age 32. Me thinks Boone was juicing like nobody’s business.

Who Likes Steroids Even More?

Brady Anderson, that’s who. Another scrawny (6’1”, 180 lbs), scrappy fielder with a decent bat, Anderson hit between 12 and 24 home runs in a season eight times. This pretty much tells you what kind of threat he was at the plate; effective but not overpowering. Let’s briefly take a look then, at what happened in the year nineteen hundred and ninety six:

50 home runs, 110 RBI (29 more than 2nd best for his career), .297 average (.256 career)

Hilarious. It’s like his whole career was humming along right at sea level when all of a sudden he jumped to Everest for a year and then just as quickly came back down. I bet he got paranoid and was like “Man, I gotta lay off the juice. I’m Brady Anderson. There’s no way people will believe I can hit 50 bombs in a season.” Think of it this way. Anderson hit 23% of his career home runs in one season! 210 over his 15 year career. 50 alone in 1996! Preposterous.

Who Like Steroids The Most?

Well, it’s probably not Luis Gonzalez, but his Looney Tunes stats are still funny to look at. A career .284 hitter, whose second best career home run season was 31, he propelled the Diamondbacks to the 2001 World Series while jamming steroids in his ass between every inning:

.325 average, 57 home runs, 142 RBI

The 142 RBI is also 28 more than second best of his career. Oh, yeah, Gonzo was 34 when he found this little fountain of youth. The only thing funnier than looking at these stats? Knowing that Gonzalez finished 3rd in the National League MVP voting in 2001 behind…Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds. You can’t make this shit up.