the 4th star

Time out on the field. Let’s go get a couple beers.

As mentioned yesterday, I’m taking a vacation. I will be away from my desk for two whole weeks. Fourteen days of ultimate grizzly bear fighting. Minus the meatballs and ring girls. Originally I had this crazy idea to do up a bunch of posts and schedule them throughout the duration of the vacation, but then things like packing and planning stuff got in the way and that notion fizzled.

In theory, scheduling a few things would have been easy to do: Just put a couple Friday Wrap Jams, Hump Days, and Man Sandwiches into the hopper and spit them out on the corresponding dates.

Same with the CSSC updates. Those are easy to do. Another game, another goalless outing.

On a serious note, I had started the NFL division previews, but I ran out of time and energy. Those will be up when I get back from Montana. And as for the Winnipeg Blue Bombers, just as easy to plan ahead: The offence sucks, head coach Mike Kelly does something stupid, and the calls for a new quarterback continue to make headlines.

This shit writes itself.

UPDATE: Apparently, Naylor’s story is coming true tonight. So much for this quote: “Stef is the quarterback here. I will take one Sefan LeFors before I’ll take anybody else. Period.”

Right.

Who had Mitch Zalnasky in the pool?

With a big assist from Bob Irving, the former Winnipeg Blue Bomber receiver takes prize as the first media person to challenge and come out on top of a stare-down with Bombers head coach and offensive guru Mike Kelly. A post-game interview on the radio, coming at you live following his club’s AWFUL AWFUL AWFUL showing at home against the Toronto Argonauts, provides the venue for the compelling theatre and lesson in environmental protection:

Zalnasky: What about the quarterbacking situation going forward, is Stefan (LeFors) still your man or are you going to re-evaluate heading into next week?

Kelly: You watched all three of ‘em play tonight, does anybody have any suggestions for me? That’s what it comes down to — you saw all three quarterbacks tonight…

Credit Zalnasky for not backing down here. He comes right back with the suggestion that Ritchie Williams looked the best out of the three, as he at least moved the chains a few times in the fourth quarter. Kelly, naturally, wasn’t interested in hearing anything positive on anyone but LeFors, pointing out that the Argos took some “wonderful penalties on that drive.” He then praised the officials for their work. Sarcastically, of course.

Irving then jumps in, wondering what the deal is with LeFors’ confidence these days. Kelly says the usual things on the relationship between the coach and player, preceding the familiar refrain by suggesting that Winnipeg isn’t “a great environment to try and groom anyone.”

Uh-oh.

House organ or not, you’re not going to slip a line like that past a veteran like Irving. It’s at this point I’m screaming at my radio, begging for a follow-up question on the “environment.” The Bombers play-by-play man fights every urge to stay positive and asks the question:

“What do you mean it’s not a great environment?”

Kelly: Uh, duh…uh…just the schizophrenic reactions to wins and losses around here. Um…there just needs to be some stability. I know this will be a tough week for everyone involved and we just have to block all that out and stay the course.”

(Schizophrenia is a psychiatric diagnosis describing a mental disorder characterized by abnormalities in the perception or expression of reality — ed.)

Irving: Do you think it’s much different here then other places?

Kelly: Yeah, I do.

Irving: You do, eh?

A shocked Zalnasky jumps in: Really?

Kelly: Yes.

Zalnasky: Every city wants their home team to win. I would think that’s…Philadelphia, Mike. You’re from Philadelphia, would they accept a 1-3 from the Eagles?

BLAMMO! The straight-shooter just took one. Not a good night.

Kelly backed off his ridiculous assertion, but not before inserting his other foot inside his mouth with a comment about the level of expectations from the community (or environment). Apparently, when you blow into town, bring in a guy who was a third-string quarterback on another team last year and proclaim you can turn him into a legitimate starter, make disparaging remarks about the former operations department, start talking about how wins and results are the only things that matter, people are going to expect that you back up what you tell them.

Wins and losses and getting better each week and hard work. You and your team haven’t earned any breaks, Mike. You said you didn’t want them. Don’t ask for them now.

I’m not a fan, but there’s one thing I know about the football team in this town: The fans actually care. A lot. They want to see the team win. They’ve been waiting for 18 years. So when they see your offence collect one first down in the first half — after all the bravado you’ve spouted in the months you’ve been in the captain’s chair — and those fans start screaming Boo-urns, it’s not a smart business plan to blame them for not supporting the product.

Over 28,000 suckers paid to see that debacle in person. You should be supporting them for their ill-thought out disposable income decision on a Friday night. They were probably more frustrated with themselves; not with your putrid attack or your stable of quarterbacks that deserved to be booed — even when an autographed jersey of one of them is a contest prize.

Said Kelly on the not-so-great environment: I think there’s a level of sensibility that needs to come into play. I don’t know if I’m witnessing that right now.

The environment feels the same way.

This guy’s name is Gerard Butler. I used to know a Gerald Butler, but that was many, many moons ago and I’m sure the guy I’m thinking of looks nothing like this. This Butler is in some movie called The Ugly Truth. It’s a ‘rom-com,’ I believe, and if previous experience with the genre is any indication, I’m sure it’s quite terrible. Having said that, I doubt those men who get dragged to it will notice any predictable plot twists with Butler’s co-star up on the screen. Geesh.

And there you go, ladies. There’s your Man Sandwich.