Post #358 Remembers a Simpler Time

Enjoy :-)

Wednesdays with jbrater

As many of you (as if our readership can be characterized as 'many') know, one of us lives in the DC area. As at least two or three of you know, frequent pro-Michigan poster jbrater also lives in your nation's capital.

As probably only one of you (jbrater) knows, he and the one of us that lives in DC have spent that last few Wednesday nights at a favorite meeting place to enjoy beverages and Hornets/Pistons games. During these gatherings there three immutable events have occured:

1. We have had a good time
2. The one of us that lives in DC has stolen a few fries
3. The Hornets have performed better than the Pistons

Tonight, the Hornets ran away from the Rockets big time in the 4th quarter while the Pistons suffered through at least a dozen of the worst calls either of us had ever seen in our entire lives.

So, here is the plea. If you know jbrater, please implore him to continue this worthy tradition. The Pistons will surely come through their weekly midweek slump, and it gives a great boost for the best team in the NBA's best conference.

Please. Write your congressman. Do it for the Hornets. Do it for the Pistons. Do it for Andre the bartender. Do it for jbrater.

Pardon the crude humor

But this was too good to pass up and too immature for BON.

Heh.

Change is neither good nor bad, change is just change

We'd love to give credit to whomever first gave us the memorable quote that is the title, but we can't remember. We started this blog almost a year ago basically so that we would have a reason to talk almost every day. Is that pathetic? Does that play right into the theory that we're not really friends, but in fact an old married couple? That's for others to judge.

The point is, sometime in the last year it turned out that someone other than our parents and eight of our friends started to read this thing. So this post is to let all of you--we still don't believe there are more than 15 of you out there--know that there will be a bit of a slowdown here on 40 Acre Sports. We will continue to keep the site up and post to it regularly. Our thoughts on LSU, Tulane, the Cardinals, the Saints, the Hornets, the Red Sox/Nats/whomever Jeff is pretending to be a fan of today (go Capitals!), and some Texas items will remain here. But, the bulk of our Texas posting will now take place on Burnt Orange Nation. So go there. Now.

Aggies are Stupid, and There are Funny Ways to Remind Us of That

We apologize for having two of our last three posts be in direct reference to other blogs' work, but this fictional dialogue from Burnt Orange Nation's email-response post this morning was too good not to share:

Fan 1: Saw you havin' a heated argument with your t-sip friend over thar. Whatchy'all arguin 'bout?
Fan 2: We can't decide whether our Top 10 basketball coach or Top 10 football coach is better.
Fan 1: Saw 'em both off!
Fan 2: [peering in closely] Are you retarded?

Well executed, sir.

Kevin Durant May Be Having A Better Rookie Year Than You Know Who

That's right. We said it. Recently we've been seeing an increase in criticisms of our favorite rookie, which we'd like to try to put to rest. To begin with, let's remember that he is a rookie on one of the NBA's youngest and worst teams. Moreover, he's pretty much the only scoring option, with only Chris Wilcox averaging double digits now that Wally's World is in Cleveland. So what kind of rookie year is KD having? For starters check out the table below.

Player 1 is Kevin Durant. Player 2 is, somewhat surprisingly, Lebron James during his rookie year. The numbers are very similar in field goal and three point percentage (where KD has been getting a lot of criticism). KD holds a slight edge in blocks, fouls and free throw percentage, and Lebron holding the slight edge in the rest.

Still not convinced that KD's rookie year is comparable to Lebron's? Take a look at each player's averages per 48 minutes.

When you look at it this way, Kevin actually is averaging more points per 48 than Lebron did his rookie year. You should also consider that Lebron's team in 03-04 had 4 other players averaging double-digits in points, won 35 games (the Sonics are on pace for 22), and did not have to deal with all of the shenanigans that the Sonics are currently dealing with.

Putting all of that together with the fact that KD's numbers have been gradually improving over the course of the season, we don't think it's all that crazy to say Kevin Durant is putting together a relatively solid rookie year.

The point is not to argue that KD is destined to become the next greatest player in the NBA (he will, but that's not the point) as only time will tell if he develops his game to be as complete as King James'. We are saying, however, that it's time to back the hell off KD and give him his damn rookie-of-the-year award already.

Good Show, GeauxTuscaloosa

The only classy sports fan in Tuscaloosa, AL has come through with a nice piece on new LSU commitment Russel Shepard. As Texas fans, we're certainly disappointed the kid chose not to come to Texas, but obviously for us LSU is the next best place. But the reason for this quick post is to compliment Geaux Tuscaloosa for the down-to-earth, classy way he wrote today about this big news for Tiger fans:

"The only reason we were in it with Shepard is because Texas coach Mack Brown was recruiting him strictly as a wide receiver. Shepard has said he does not mind switching positions but wants to get a shot at quarterback, and will switch positions if he doesn't earn playing time at QB. That's fine with me. Les Miles has said he's a quarterback and that's where he wants Shepard. I actually give Mack Brown some credit here. He didn't just tell Shepard what he wanted to hear. He told him the truth, which is that Texas wasn't going to give him a shot at quarterback. LSU will."

This is the kind of approach that is missing all too often from college football conversation, especially when it comes to recruiting. Recruiting can be a really tough business for fans, as it's a time when we hope guys with way more athletic ability than we ever dreamed of having will decide they feel the same way about our schools as we do. It's hard sometimes to avoid the temptation of feeling like a jilted lover just because an 18-year-old kid chose to attend college at a different school; similarly, it can be hard to avoid the temptation of gloating when he does choose your alma mater.

On top of that, we have often said that we love having Mack Brown as our coach for reasons beyond winning, and Geaux Tuscaloosa here points out a fine example of that. Could Brown have landed Shepard, a lifelong Horns fan, in Austin simply by promising to give him a shot at QB? Probably. Would he then have had to either back down from that promise or not truly give Shepard a fair shot? Almost certainly. Instead of choosing either of those two bad options, Mack decided to operate with his characteristic integrity and be honest with the kid. We've said it before and we'll say it again: we're lucky to have Mack representing The University.

Today's Post Is Something New...But Familiar

Sometimes you just feel a need to post things. We'd been thinking for about a week that this needed to be posted. You've probably read it before, but if you read it now you will have good luck for at least the length of time it takes to read. Pardon the crude language, but we firmly believe that true literature should not be censored.

Anyhow, while you wait on the phone to purchase your tickets for the Nationals home opener, enjoy what is arguably the greatest piece of literature to come out of Texas since, well, probably ever --

This is pretty long, but it's HYSTERICAL! If you've ever been a
die-hard fan at a sporting event, or been with someone who is,
you can relate. This is an e-mail from some guy named J.D.
Horne, who, according to the messages that were attached to
this, is not a 21 year-old frat boy, but an attorney of indeterminate
age. He sent it to his friend Brian Brice and it got forwarded
around the country. You have to give the guy kudos for being
self-deprecating...but I hope I never meet him on game day.

A chronology of events for Saturday, December 4, 1999, and the
early morning hours of Sunday, December 5, 1999:

6:00 Arise, play the Eyes of Texas and Texas Fight at
Full-freaking blast

6:20 Get in car, drive to New Braunfels

7:30 Tee off (me and a buddy were the FIRST tee-time of the
morning)

8:50 Turn 9 (crack open first beer)

8:53 Crack open second beer

8:58 Crack open...(you get the idea)

10:30 Finish 18 (holes, as well as beers), sign scorecard for
smoooooth 95

10:35 Headed for San Antonio (Alamodome - NU vs Texas)

10:50 Buy three 18-packs for pre- and post-game festivities

11:10 We decide we don't have enough booze, so we
double-back to a liquor store and buy the good ol' 750 ml
plastic bottle "Traveler" Jim Beam

11:50 Arrive at the tailgate spot. Awesome day. Not a single
cloud in the sky. About 70 degrees.

11:55 I decide that we're going to kick the shit out of Nebraska.

11:56 I tell my first Nebraska fan to go fuck himself.

12:15 The UT band walks by on the way to the Alamodome.
We're on the second floor of a two-story parking garage on the
corner (a couple hundred of us). We're hooting and hollering like
wildmen. The band doubles back to the street right below us
and serenades us with Texas Fight and The Eyes of Texas.
AWESOME MOMENT.

12:25 In the post-serenade serendipity, 50-100 grown men are
bumping chests with one another, each and every one of them
now secure and certain of the fact that we are going to kick the
shit out of Nebraska.

1:00 The Nebraska band walks by on the way to the
Alamodome. Again, we hoot and holler like wildmen. Again, the
band doubles back and stops right below us to serenade us,
this time, however, with the Nebraska fight songs. Although
somewhat impressed by their spirit and verve, we remain
convinced that we are going to kick the shit out of Nebraska.

1:30 I begin the walk to the Alamodome, somehow managing to
stuff the "Traveler" and 11 cans of beer into my pants.

1:47 I am in line surrounded by Nebraska fans. They are
taunting me. I am taunting back, still certain that we are going to
kick the shit out of Nebraska. I decide to challenge a particularly
vocal Nebraska fan to play what I now call and will forever be
remembered as Cell-Phone Flop Out." Remember flop out for a
dollar? The rules are similar. I tell this Nebraska jackass that if
he's so confident in his team, he should "flop out" his cell phone
RIGHT NOW and make plane reservations to Phoenix for the
Fiesta Bowl. And then I spoke these memorable words: "And not
those damn refundable tickets, either! You request those
non-refundable, non-transferable sons-of-bitches!" He backs
down. He is unworthy. I call Southwest Airlines and buy two
tickets to Phoenix, non-refundable and non-transferable. Price:
$712. He is humbled. He lowers his head in shame. I raise my
cell phone in triumph to the cheers of hundreds of Texas fans. I
am KING and these are my subjects. I distribute the 11 beers in
my pants to the cheering masses. I RULE the pre-game
kingdom.

2:34 Kickoff. Brimming with confidence, I open the Traveler and
pour my first stiffy.

2:45 I notice something troubling: Nebraska is big. Nebraska is
fast. Nebraska is very pissed off at Texas.

3:01 The first quarter mercifully ends. 9 yards total offense for
Texas. Zero first downs for Texas. I'm still talking shit. I pour
another stiffy from the Traveler.

3:36 Four minutes to go in the first half: the Traveler is a dead
soldier. I buy my first $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants.
While I am standing in line, a center snap nearly decapitates
Major Applewhite and rolls out of the end zone. Safety

3:56 Halftime score: Nebraska 15, Texas 0. I wish I had another
Traveler.

4:11 While urinating next to a Nebraska fan in the bathroom at
halftime, I attempt to revive the classic Brice-ism from the South
Bend bathroom: "Hey, buddy, niiiiiiiiice cock." He is unamused.

4:21 I buy my 2nd and 3rd $5 beer from the Alamodome
merchants. I share my beer with two high school girls sitting
behind me. Surprisingly, they are equipped with a flask full of
vodka. I send them off to purchase Sprites, so that we may
consume their vodka. I have not lost faith. Nebraska is a bunch
of pussies.

4:51 No more vodka. The girls sitting behind me have fled for
their lives. I purchase two more $5 beers from the Alamodome
merchants.

5:18 Score is Nebraska 22, Texas 0. I am beginning to lose
faith. This normally would trouble me, but I am too drunk to see
the football field.

5:27 I call Southwest Airlines: "I'm sorry, sir. Those tickets have
been confirmed and are non-refundable and non-transferrable."

5:37 I try to start a fight with every person behind the concession
counter. As it turns out, the Alamodome has a policy that no beer
can be sold when there is less than 10 minutes on the game
clock. I am enraged by this policy. I ask loudly: "Why the fuck
didn't you announce last call over the fucking PA system??!!"

5:49 Back in my seats, I am slumped in my chair in defeat. All of
a sudden, the Texas crowd goes absolutely nuts. "Whazzis?," I
mutter, awaking from my coma, "Iz we winnig? Did wez scort?"
Alas, the answer is no, we were not winning and we did not
score. The largest (by far) cheer of the day from the Texas
faithful occurred when the handlers were walking back to the
tunnel and Bevo (the Texas mascot) stopped to take a
gargantuan shit all over the letters "S", "K", and "A" in the
"Nebraska" spelled out in their end zone. I cheer wildly. I pick up
he empty Traveler bottle and stick my tongue in it. I am thirsty.

6:16 Nebraska fans are going berserk as I walk back to the
truck. I would taunt them with some off-color remarks about their
parentage, but I am too drunk to form complete sentences. With
my last cognitive thought of the evening, I take solace in the fact
that if we had not beaten them in October, they would be playing
Florida State for the national championship.

6:30 Back in the car. On the way back to Austin for the basketball
game.

8:00 Texas-Arizona tip off. We can still salvage the day! I crack
open a beer. It is warm. I don't care.

7:12 We have stopped for gas. I am hungry. I go inside the
store. I walk past the beer frig. I notice a Zima. I've never had a
Zima. I wonder if it's any good. I pull a Zima from the frig. I twist
the top off and drink the Zima in three swallows. Zima sucks. I
replace the empty bottle in the frig.

7:17 There is a Blimpie Subs in the store. I walk to where the
ingredients are, where the person usually makes the sub. There
is no one there. I lean over the counter and scoop out half a
bucket of black olives. I eat them. I am still hungry. I lean further
over the counter and grab approximately two pounds of
Pastrami. I walk out of the store grunting and eating Pastrami.
The patrons in the store fear me. I don't care.

8:01 We are in South Austin. I have been drinking warm beer
and singing Brooks and Dunn tunes for over an hour. My
truck-mate is tired of my singing. He suggests that perhaps
Brooks and Dunn have written other good songs besides "You're
Going to Miss Me When I'm Gone" and "Neon Moon" and that
maybe listening to only those two songs, ten times each was a
bit excessive. Perhaps, he suggests, I could just let the CD play
on its own. I tell him to fuck off and restart "Neon Moon."

8:30 We arrive at the Erwin Center. My truck-mate, against my
loud and profane protestations, parks on the top floor of a nearby
parking garage. I tell him he's an idiot. I tell him we will never get
out. I tell him we may as well pitch a fucking tent here. He
ignores me. I think he's still pissed about the Brooks and Dunn
tunes. I whistle "Neon Moon" loudly.

8:47 I am rallying. I have 4 warm beers stuffed in my pants.
We're going to kick the shit out of Arizona.

9:11 Halftime score: Texas 31, Arizona 29. I am pleased. I go to
the bathroom to pee for the 67th time today. I giggle to myself
because of the new opportunity to do "the bathroom Brice." There
are no Arizona fans in the bathroom. I am disappointed. I tell
myself (out loud) that I have a "Niiiiiice cock." No one is amused
but me.

9:41 I walk to the bathroom while drinking Bud Light out of a can.
Needless to say, they do not sell beer at the Erwin Center, much
less Bud Light out of a can. I am stopped by an usher: "Where
did you get that, sir?" I tell him (no shit): "Oh, the cheerleaders
were throwing them up with those little plastic footballs. Would
you mind throwing this away for me?" I take the last swig and
hand it to him. He is confused. I pretend I'm going to the
bathroom, but I run away giggling instead. I duck into some
entrance to avoid the usher, who is now pursuing me. I sneak
into a large group of people and sit down. The usher walks by
harmlessly. I am giggling like a little girl. I crack open another
can of Bud Light.

9:52 I am lost. In my haste to avoid the usher, I have lost my
bearings. I have no ticket stub. I cannot find my seats. Texas is
losing.

10:09 Texas is being screwed by the refs. I am enraged. I have
cleared out the seats around me because I keep removing my
hat and beating the surrounding chairs with it. A concerned fan
asks if I'm OK and perhaps I shouldn't take it so seriously. I tell
him to fuck off.

10:15 After the fourth consecutive "worst fucking call I have
EVER seen," I attempt to remove my hat again to begin beating
inanimate objects. However, on this occasion I miscalculate and
I thumbnail myself in my left eyelid, leaving a one-quarter inch
gash over my eye. I am now bleeding into my left eye and all over
my shirt. "Perhaps," I think to myself, I'm taking this a bit
seriously."

10:22 I am standing in the bathroom peeing. I'm so drunk I am
swaying and grunting. I have a bloody napkin pressed on my left
eye. My pants are bloody. I have my (formerly) white shirt
wrapped around my waist. I look like I should be in an episode of
Cops.

10:43 Texas has lost. I put my bloody white shirt back on my
body and make my way for the exits. I am stopped every 20
seconds by a good samaritan/cop/security guard to ask me why I
am covered in blood, but I merely grunt incoherently and keep
moving.

10:59 With my one good eye, I have located the parking garage. I
walk up six flights of stairs, promise that when I see my friend I
will punch him in the face for making me walk up six flights of
stairs, find the truck, and collapse in a heap in the bed of the
truck. I look around and notice that traffic is lined up all the way
around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I take
a nap.

11:17 I awake from my nap. I see my friend in the driver's seat. I
lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic
is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and
no one is moving. I am too tired to punch my friend. I call my
friend a "Stupid cocksucker."

11:31 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that
traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights,
and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid cocksucker."

11:38 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that
traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights,
and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid cocksucker."

11:47 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that
traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights,
and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid cocksucker."

11:58 I am jostled. The truck is moving. I lift my head to look out
the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is beginning to move on
the second floor. I jump out of the truck, walk to the edge of the
parking facility, and pee off the sixth floor onto the street below.
My friend looks at me like I just anally violated his minor sister. I
turn around pee on the front of his truck while singing the lyrics to
"Neon Moon."

12:11 We are moving. We are out of beer. I jump from the truck
and go from vehicle to vehicle until someone gives me two
beers. I am happy. I return to my vehicle

12:26 We have emerged from the parking facility. We make our
way to my apartment and find Ed sitting on the couch with a
freshly opened bottle of Glenlivet on the coffee table in front of
him. We are all going to die tonight.

12:59 We have finished three-quarters of the bottle of Glenlivet.
We decide it would be a wonderful idea to go dancing at
PollyEsther's. Ed has to pee. He walks down the hall to our
apartment and directly into he full length mirror at the end of the
hall, smashing it into hundreds of pieces. We giggle
uncontrollably and leave for PollyEsther's.

1:17 The PollyEsther's doorman laughs uncontrollably at our
efforts to enter his club. "Fellas," he says in between his fits of
spastic laughter,” I’ve been working this door for almost a year.
I've been working doors in this town for almost 5 years. And I can
honestly say that I ain't never seen three drunker mother fuckers
than you three. Sorry, can't let you in." We attempt to reason with
him. He laughs harder.

1:44 We find a bar that lets us in. We take two steps in the door
and hear "Last call for alcohol!" I turn to the group and mutter:
"See, dat wasn't that fuckin' hard. Day don't fuckin' do that at the
Awamo...the awaom...the alab...fuck it, that stadium we was at
today..." We order 6 shots of tequila and three beers.

2:15 Back on the street. We need food. We hail a cab to take us
the two and one half blocks to Katz's. The cab fare is $1.60. We
give him $10 and tell him to keep it.

2:17 There is a 20 minute wait. We give the hostess $50. We
are seated immediately.

2:25 We order two orders of fried pickles, a Cobb salad, a bowl
of soup, two orders of Blueberry blintzes, two Reuben
sandwiches, a hamburger, two cheese stuffed potatoes, an
order of fries, and an order of onion rings.

2:39 The food arrives. We are all asleep with our heads onthe
table. The waiter wakes us up. We eat every fucking bit of our
food. Most of the restaurant patrons around us are disgusted.
We don't give a fuck. The tab is $112 with tip.

2:46 I'm sleepy.

9:12 I wake up next to a strange woman. She is the bartender at
Katz's. She is not pretty.

HOOK 'EM HORNS, BABY!!! Out-

Jeff

Expanded Baseball Thoughts

It was a tough weekend for Texas baseball, dropping two games to Tennessee and Rice, and nearly blowing a third to Houston. Luckily the Horns pulled out an 8-7 victory in 10 innings. The last freshman to have a game-winning hit in Minute Maid Park turned out to be a good one (Kyle Russell in 2006).

As we said yesterday, the errors are by far the most distressing aspect of the weekend. Through eight games, Texas is on pace for a startling 116 errors. We have no doubt that number will go down, and we hope the 11 errors for the weekend were an exception rather than the rule.

Kyle Russell has been in some sort of funk of late, leading him to be nearly 40 points (.296) below his 2007 batting average. Worse yet is Jordan Danks who is 60 points (.276) below his 2007 average. Assuming those two will return to form, the team is an offensively sleeping giant.

Of most concern (other than the defense) has been Kyle Walker at closer. The junior has already given up 4 runs (3 earned) and walked 3 in just 3 innings of work. The stellar play of freshman Slayton Thomas (amongst other freshman fireballers) gives us hope that the closer will be settled by at least conference play. With Brandon Workman, Thomas, and Cole Green, Texas has the chance to really get stronger as the year goes on.

This weekend Texas gets a chance to prove itself, hosting a good Stanford club. Both teams are currently 6-2, with Stanford having victories over Nebraska (series win 2-1) and Cal State Fullerton (sweep). Stanford features Friday starter junior Jeremy Bleich, a friend to one of us from the olden days.

Texas' midweek opponent is Texas A&M Corpus Christi, who at 2-5 should present a great opportunity for the youngsters to get some experience and playing time.

The games should be available on TexasSports.tv, you can probably check back here for some postgame analysis.

What We Learned -- This Weekend

Well, folks, it was a busy weekend in the 40AS world, which held a number of important lessons for all of us. First and foremost: DO NOT HIT on 13 when the dealer is showing a five. And if you're going to do it, don't do it after a minute of deliberation with three of your buddies watching. Looking back, that actually pretty much sums up the weekend. There was some good (dealer showing 5) and a lot of bad (that dude repeatedly taking his bust card). Thinking about it:

• Texas basketball nearly won a game in Lubbock that it had no business winning. A win would have been HUGE, all but locking up a one-seed. As we thought about it, the loss could be conceivably good for the Horns if it leads to a spot in the Houston regional. Either way, the team showed a lot of moxie in making the comeback. We feel that Texas was due a loss like this after a perfect February, so there's no reason to fret too much. With a 13-3 conference record in sight, March is still looking to be a fun month, and April play is still not out of the question.
• Texas baseball did not perform up to snuff in Houston, dropping two games to quality opposition. Early struggles are not surprising considering how green this club is. Of course the nine errors through the first two games is pretty shocking, and hopefully not a sign of things to come. Also, the disastrous play of Kyle Walker is worrisome to say the least. Encouraging signs are plentiful in Texas' 8-7 (10 innings) win over Houston. Freshmen Connor Rowe (game winning single in the 10th), Cameron Rupp (3-5 with 4 runs), Cole Green (6.2 IP, 4 hits, 4 runs), and Slayton Thomas (1.2 IP, 0 hits, 2 k's, winning pitcher) were all fantastic.
• We were busy this weekend, but we'll try to take a closer look at the Horns before their mid-week series with TAMUCC this week and weekend series against Stanford.
• The women's basketball squad beat #10 Oklahoma in Norman, but you can finish this sentence already knowing our sentiments.
• It was a GREAT weekend for Aggy bashing. They scored 10 points in the first half in Norman, Peter Bean did a guest post at EDSBS in which he nailed our most pressing question of to what extent would Mike Sherman "prefer the world be more like it was in the 1880s than it is today?" Also, Richard Justice made our day by reminding A&M fans that "Texas has a better coach and a better facility and a better city. Texas has a better tradition."
• The Saints got Gay and Jonathan Vilma in free agency, but failed to acquire what would have been the biggest catch in Lance Briggs. Either way, it was a positive weekend for the Who Dats.
• And finally, the Red Fish Grille was fantastic, but there was WAY too much food. At the end there was a plate full of jambalaya and neither of us wanted to eat it. We had become everything we have always hated.

Oh, also, there's this: