Stats... and A Little Piece of Jesus
Sports today, among other things, are driven by statistical freaks. I used to hate watching hockey games back home (Oh...memories) and hearing some weird stat that makes you wonder just how much spare time these announcers have during the day. "When the Canucks have a powerplay in the second period of a Tuesday night game in the second week of January they are 4 for 6". Or else, "When Trevor Linden scores a point the Canucks have a record of 8 wins, no losses, and no ties". So what?? Are you saying that if Trevor Linden scores a goal in the first period that the other team should just quit and go home? I agree that history is an important tool to decide how you're going to direct your future but c'mon.... let's not get retarded about this now. It reminds me of when you go to the casino and see the history board at the roulette table, "Oh man, black has come up three times in a row... better bet on red!!"
Baseball has to be THE worst sport when it comes to useless stats, but this one takes the cake. I was watching a baseball game on T.V. late one night (I was trying to fall asleep) and up to bat came Nomar Garciaparra and the announcers were talking about the injuries he's had over the last year or so and his effectiveness in the line-up. "When Nomar plays, the Dodgers have a record of 10 wins and 10 losses. When he is out of the line-up the Dodgers are 9 and 9". Well what the hell was the point of that?? Not only is that stat completely useless and a waste of breath but it proves absolutely nothing except Nomar has no relation to the teams success and/or failure! Think people..... think!
I was day dreaming the other day and I flash backed to November of 2005. A friend of mine had asked me if I would be willing to be the Godfather to his son, and I was honored and accepted the invitation. Not being a man of any type of religion I was quite nervous leading up to the big day, especially when I found out the ceremony would take place during regular Sunday services. So here I'd be in front of the whole congregation trying not to make an ass out of myself which by the way, speaking of stats, I'm currently 0 for a billion. The morning of the big day I was pacing back and forth and ending up skipping breakfast because I didn't want to give myself an upset stomach. Well, I held up quite well for most of the ceremonies that day and learned how they did things. Overall I was impressed at the laid back nature of the group and was glad nobody was really in my face to join the church.... because I HATE pushy religious types. Anyway, we got to the point where there was communion? I think. Anyway, everybody goes up row by row and kneels as a group at the front of the church to accept an offering of bread and grape juice. Apparently, the bread is supposed to represent a piece of Jesus, and the grape juice is supposed to represent his blood. Sounds kind of morbid eh? I'm not sure if I'm explaining this correctly or not but this is how I remember it. Anyway, my friend Derrick and I get back to our seats and wait and watch as row by row the other members of the congregation go up to get their offerings. After all that was done, we had the baptism ceremony and I started to relax... and get hungry. As the Pastor was talking my stomach started to growl, and I mean growl like a pack of angry wolves. Derrick kept looking over at me wondering what the hell was going on and all I could do was laugh. I had the giggles, not good. This went on for another 10 to 15 minutes and I finally leaned over to him and said, "Man, I sure could go for another piece of Jesus!" I lost it. I was tired, relieved I made it through the day, and worst of all, I was hungry. For some reason everything from that point on made me laugh and over the rest of the sermon I slowly deteriorated from slight shame to "ahh screw it, as if I'll be invited back here anyway".
I'm not really sure if there is a God, but I hope if there IS one he has a sense of humor.
Baseball has to be THE worst sport when it comes to useless stats, but this one takes the cake. I was watching a baseball game on T.V. late one night (I was trying to fall asleep) and up to bat came Nomar Garciaparra and the announcers were talking about the injuries he's had over the last year or so and his effectiveness in the line-up. "When Nomar plays, the Dodgers have a record of 10 wins and 10 losses. When he is out of the line-up the Dodgers are 9 and 9". Well what the hell was the point of that?? Not only is that stat completely useless and a waste of breath but it proves absolutely nothing except Nomar has no relation to the teams success and/or failure! Think people..... think!
I was day dreaming the other day and I flash backed to November of 2005. A friend of mine had asked me if I would be willing to be the Godfather to his son, and I was honored and accepted the invitation. Not being a man of any type of religion I was quite nervous leading up to the big day, especially when I found out the ceremony would take place during regular Sunday services. So here I'd be in front of the whole congregation trying not to make an ass out of myself which by the way, speaking of stats, I'm currently 0 for a billion. The morning of the big day I was pacing back and forth and ending up skipping breakfast because I didn't want to give myself an upset stomach. Well, I held up quite well for most of the ceremonies that day and learned how they did things. Overall I was impressed at the laid back nature of the group and was glad nobody was really in my face to join the church.... because I HATE pushy religious types. Anyway, we got to the point where there was communion? I think. Anyway, everybody goes up row by row and kneels as a group at the front of the church to accept an offering of bread and grape juice. Apparently, the bread is supposed to represent a piece of Jesus, and the grape juice is supposed to represent his blood. Sounds kind of morbid eh? I'm not sure if I'm explaining this correctly or not but this is how I remember it. Anyway, my friend Derrick and I get back to our seats and wait and watch as row by row the other members of the congregation go up to get their offerings. After all that was done, we had the baptism ceremony and I started to relax... and get hungry. As the Pastor was talking my stomach started to growl, and I mean growl like a pack of angry wolves. Derrick kept looking over at me wondering what the hell was going on and all I could do was laugh. I had the giggles, not good. This went on for another 10 to 15 minutes and I finally leaned over to him and said, "Man, I sure could go for another piece of Jesus!" I lost it. I was tired, relieved I made it through the day, and worst of all, I was hungry. For some reason everything from that point on made me laugh and over the rest of the sermon I slowly deteriorated from slight shame to "ahh screw it, as if I'll be invited back here anyway".
I'm not really sure if there is a God, but I hope if there IS one he has a sense of humor.
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