I Was Going to Write About

The Reverend Wright B.S. from yesterday, Hillary's proposed gas tax holiday (which is awfully similar to John McSame's proposal), Obama's late breaking news that a majority of Congressional Super Delegates have already made thier decisions and have told the Obama campaign prompting Obama supporter, Missouri Senator Clair McCaskill to say "I feel good"....Which is very big news as Hillary needs 2/3 of remaining undecidided Super Delegates to go her way in order for her to complete her coup of the American voters.

I was going to write about these things but I am sick and I don't feel like getting into it today.

I do have a little conspiracy theory. I think it is more than possible that Reverand Wright came out and said those things earlier in the week at the request of the Obama campaign which would allow Obama to come out strongly and divorce himself from the man. Just something that is rattling around in Terry Gilmore's Head.

Wait a Tick!

I thought Hill was getting all the old white people..



I do believe the Tide is Turning

Marcus Dixon Shows the World

In 2003 an 18-year old Marcus Dixon had sex with 15-year old Kristie Brown, a white girl. Marcus Dixon is black, from rural Georgia. Marcus was charged with six counts: rape, aggravated assault, false imprisonment, sexual battery, statutory rape and aggravated child molestation. He was found not guilty of four of the six. The Jury clearly believed that the sex was consensual. He was however charged with statutory rape and aggravated child molestation because he was 18 and she was 15.

The Jury did not know when they handed down the aggravated child molestation charge that it carried with it a mandatory 10 year sentence. A teen aged Marcus Dixon was sent to prison for 10 years for having consensual sex with a teenage girl.

Dixon was welcomed into the home of his god parents, Ken and Peri Jones, a white couple that Marcus met through sports when he was a child. Peri believes that Marcus was charged with the rape and molestation charges because of the institutional racism that is ingrained in the judicial system of the deep south. She feels that the prosecution knew that Marcus was not guilty of rape, but so wanted their conviction that they wrongly accused him of those crimes to assure a conviction.

Atlanta based corporate attorney David Balser took up the fight to free Marcus, and led the appeal pro bono. 15 months into his 10 year sentence Marcus was released from prison.

Marcus was given a full scholarship to Hampton University where he was a three year captain on the football team and never had an off-field incident in four years.

Marcus was ranked as the 26th or 27th best defensive lineman out of about 150 that were ranked for last weekends draft.

Marcus was not drafted, but hours after the draft ended he was offered a three year 1 million dollar non-guaranteed contract by the Dallas Cowboys. Marcus will attend mini-camp next weekend with the Cowboys.

Kristie Brown is a cashier at the local Piggly Wiggly. This case highlights an inherent racism that is alive an well in America today. This issue has come to light again in recent months. First with the Vanity Fair cover that displayed LeBron James in an pose that was clearly an allusion to fear inducing images that were used in the past


Senator Hillary Clinton played on this same sort of fear with her now famous "3 am" ad that she used to such success. In the ad a young, blond girl is shown sleeping and an ominous voice states that it is "3 am and your children are asleep" the imagery brings to mind immediately the pre-emancipation fear of white slave owners that their slaves were going to break free their bonds and rape and murder their children in the night. This fear was used by southern slave owners as a basis why it was necessary to continue the peculiar institution for fear of black retribution.

It is this fear of dark scary men that has fueled the controversy surrounded the "inflammatory" comments made by the reverend Jeramiah Wright. Images of black men yelling about the actions of our government, and "God Damn America!" scare the hell out of a majority of white Americans.

This institutionalized fear has been a part of this country since the first Portuguese slave ships reached the Eastern shores of Virginia in the early 1500s. Marcus Dixon was a victim of this fear.

The NFL Draft

There was a time in my life where the weekend of the NFL Draft was as good as a holiday weekend to me. I would spend the previous season watching more college football than any human was ever meant to consume. I would watch the Senior Bowl practices, review the results from the Scouting Combine, and analyze the pre-draft rankings.

There was a time when I would watch all 18 hours of coverage. I would take notes on which teams drafted which players, where they went to school and how they graded out. I would then spend hours creating and editing every player and detail on Madden for Play Station. It would literally take me hours.

I watched about an hour of the draft this year and was decidedly disinterested. I don't know if it was that my Buccaneers had a boring pick (20th), or the top players just were not that exciting. But for whatever reason, the draft just did not interest me. Maybe it has to do with the retirement of my favorite player, Mike Alstott, and my inability to latch onto anyone else.




I have had a weird relationship with the NFL for years. I do not like the Buccaneers coach (John Gruden), so I am not all that interested in them. I play fantasy football, but am no where near the savant that I am when it comes to fantasy baseball. Maybe it was my years of playing football, watching so much film, thinking about it non stopped, year round, that I have just sort of grown away from it.

Maybe it was the birth of Aviendha, or the fact that the Bucs, and Penn State are clearly mediocre and not getting any better, but I just do not care that much. This comming from the guy who watches literally 5-6 baseball games a week start to finish.

Keep Moving Those Goal Posts Hil

I wrote this on February 20th on my Myspace Blog:

I was having a political discussion with some (who I thought liked talking about politics with me, but it turns out, I was actually driving them crazy)... and they made the comment that Hillary and Obama are almost identical on matters of policy.

This person was using this as a defense of Hillary, I actually took it to be a condemnation of her candidacy. If they are so similar when it comes to politics, you have to look other places for the differences.

It is in these differences that Obama becomes so obviously the better choice.

(Some of) The criticisms of the Bush administration have been...

A failure to plan ahead

Fiscal irresponsibility

An inability to surround himself with qualified people

An infuriating arrogance, specifically in areas of foreign policy, more specifically in Iraq, pre and post INVASION/OCCUPATION

among other Fuckery

What is so telling about the Clinton Campaign is that they have demonstrated many of these same characteristics.

Hillary poorly planned, or surrounded herself with people who poorly planned her campaign.

She ASSUMED that by the time February 5th rolled around, she would be the presumptive candidate. Because of this arrogant assumption, the campaign spent little to no money in states whose primaries were held after the Super Tuesday votes.

It was because of this that the Clinton Campaign found themselves in such financial peril that Hill had to write her campaign a 5 Million Dollar Check from her own money. (another aspect of this fact bothers me, it seems that Campaigns in a money crunch will take what ever money they can get from whom ever, this is exactly how oil companies end up writing national energy policy).

The Clinton Campaign has also suffered from a ton of in fighting recently. Clinton's top advisers have had major disagreements as to how the Campaign would be run. This infighting has led to the resignation of a few of her top people.

If a Presidential Campaign is a metaphor for how one will run the country, how a candidate will organize, finance, and run the country once elected, I would say these things speak volumes.

In a Campaign where the candidates are so similar politically, we have to look to other factors to judge who is best suited to run our country.

And why are those on the Right screaming for Huck to step aside and let McCain focus on his battle with the Democrats, but no such argument is being made on the Left. In my opinion, and it is just my opinion, but you are reading this so you must be mildly interested in what I think, it is just about time for Hill to bow out respectfully and allow the the Democratic Party to rally around our candidate. (March 4th can't come soon enough).

I was trying to point out, way back then, how similar her campaign has been to the failed administration of our current president. I was trying to draw comparisons in order to make a point.

She continues to make my point for me. The constant changing of the goals of her campaign mirror exactly the constantly morphing explanations for why we went into Iraq, and why we cannot get out now.

Every reason that Hillary cites for why she needs to stay in this race, has, with time, been proven to be either a strait up lie ("winning" Texas) or based on a completely false premise (leading the popular vote count, which she is not).

This compares exactly to the Bushco explanations for A. why we went into Iraq in the first place (WMD, remove Saddam, fight them there so we don't have to fight them here, WMD, Sunni extremists, Iranian extremist, OIL....etc) and B. Why we cannot get out now(WMD, Sunni extremists, Iranian extremist, OIL....etc)

I was watching Hillary speak the other day, and I seriously felt the type of anger that I usually reserve for only W and Michael Kay.

Three Officers Acquitted

In the Trial of Three NYPD officers and the 50 shots they unloaded on Sean Bell outside of a strip club in NYC.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/04/25/sean-bell-case-3-nyc-poli_n_98579.html

My natural reaction to this story, as it often is, is to sympathize with the victim until testimony or evidence proves the facts to be on the contrary (as happened with the Duke lacrosse team, I was dead wrong).

I cannot help but find the story of the defendants to be as full of holes as Sean and his friends bodies when they were done with them. Violence in urban areas in an issue, there is no arguing that point. But a drugged up, mentally ill, gun happy police force is not the answer to that problem.

I can already hear the arguments: "what was he doing in a strip club the night before his wedding, he got what he deserved." It is this type of Blame-The-Victim, right wing media spin, fueled by Bill O'Rielly and his ilk that sickens me.

Comments are Welcome

I was thinking earlier today that I write these things, and I represent exactly 50% of the comments on this site.

Now, I know someone is reading because I added the nifty counter on the bottom of the page, and I do not represent all 230-ish views on this page.

I write mostly about baseball and politics as these are two of the many things that occupy my brain. I do most of my more personal, or parenting writing at www.myspace.com/terrygilmore1

I seriously enjoy comments though, as it gives me a chance first of all to see who the hell is reading this, and second of all to see what people think and discuss and what not.

There are many things I think I know, and there are many things I know I know. One of the things I know I know is that I do not know everything, and I seriously love to be challenged, or disagreed with.

What I am trying to say is, I am going to continue to write this, even if no one is reading, but I think someone is reading so let me know what you think.

Some Baseball Updates

I have been going a little light on the baseball talk for a few reasons. My head has been occupied mostly by thoughts of the Democratic Primary. I have still found the time to watch way too much baseball, but seeing as I don't get paid to write this, I only have so much time during the day to write, I stick to what is really grinding my gears (in Peter Griffin's voice).

But a few quick thoughts on the baseball season. I am not panicing about players who are not performing, or teams who are playing way over their heads. Baseball is a really, really long season and a lot of these things tend to sort themselves out. The problem is, it is April and there is a small sample size, and people need something to talk about. So when David Ortiz is hitting less than half his weight (.177) less than a month into the season I dont tend to panic.

I do however think there are some trends that can be spotted this early.

There is no way that the Marlins are going to be in first place come seasons end. It simply is not going to happen. The Mets have played mediocre to this point, which wouldn't be so worrisome if they had not look a hell of a lot like this for the majority of last season.

It may be time to start the countdown on Willie Randolph. I do not think he is the right manager for this team. I have felt this way since 2006..
He is way to relaxed, allowing "the game" to work itself out. Which is fine, except this team suffered the greatest (regular season) collapse in the history of baseball (sorry Yankees, you still hold the record for the worst choke job ever) Carlos Delgado looks more and more like a former steroid user who can not figure out how to be 36-year old former power hitter with no power.

The Braves and Phillies are mediocre, and will be hard pressed to compete with the Mets as the season wears on. I think that with the return of Duaner "filthy" Sanchez to the Mets bullpen, following a 21-month layoff due to injury, the Mets are in a position to slowly pull away from the rest of the division. They just have too much offense (when Wright and Reyes are hitting) and too much depth in the bullpen.

The Yankees are not good. There I said it. Just as I predicted, they are not capable of hitting, or pitching enough to keep up with the Redsox.

I was dead wrong about the Whitesox, at least to this point. Acutally I think I predicted the division to look the exact opposite as it does now:

Chicago White Sox
Minnesota Twins
Kansas City Royals
Detroit Tigers
Cleveland Indians

I dont expect the end of the season rankings to look like that. Detroit has too much offense, and Minnesota has too little.


The Cubs are tough. They just pounded on the Mets in a quick two game series, and they look an awful lot like a playoff team. As Terry predicted, Derrek Lee is having an MVP type of season (.378 7 HR 18 RBI 1 SB) and he is on Terry's fantasy team.




Maybe Lee should get into another fight with a 6ft 10in pitcher if his numbers start to falter




The Diamond Backs have gotten off to a hot start in the NL west. Good pitching (Terry predicted that Dan Haren was going to good) and great hitting from their young position players has lead to a 6 game lead in the early going.

The Dodgers have been decidedly underwhelling to this point. So much so that Joe Torre had to drop Andruw Jones (and his 50 million dollar contract) into the 8 hole in the lineup yesterday (how far the mighty steriod users have fallen, see: Delgado)



In the AL West, the A's have held their own (once again as I predicted), the Angels have been the class of the division, and with the immenent return of John Lackey they only look to get better.

A quick Fantasy update, I am winning in my league as I did all during the regular season last year, only to look very much like the New England Patriots and blow it in the Championship game.

I have a tendency to make way too many moves, so I have been trying very hard to excercise some patience. My roster looks very much like it did following the draft.


Johan Santana proved again last night that he was worth the money and the players that were sent to Minnesota. He did exactly what he was brought in to do, which is end a three game lossing streak (he got the win), go deep into the game (7 complete innings, a rarity around Queens these days), and carry the offense (2-2 with a pair of doubles).



It really is fun to watch him work. Particularly when he strikes out former Met prospect (and one of Terry's least favorite players) Lastings (Thrilledge) Milledge three times.

Too Mind Boggling To Comprehend

Senator Clinton claimed yesterday, repeatedly, that she has received more votes from people who voted than anyone else. (not a direct quote)

There are a few very interesting points to be dissected in that statement.

First of which is, Hillary is counting both Florida and Michigan to reach that conclusion. Both candidates agreed, and signed a document stating that Michigan would not count. In the Michigan Primary, only Hillary's name appeared on the ballot. So she is counting those that voted for her, but not including in Obama's total, the number of people who voted uncommitted, because his name wasn't on the ballot.

The arithmetic to that is mind boggling. She is counting the votes she received, but disregarding the votes he "received" from uncommitted voters. Do you see what she did there, it is really clever. Or Dastardly.

She is also counting Florida, the other Democratic Primary that the candidates agreed would not count. I found it interesting on the night of the Florida Primary that Hill Showed up for a "victory" speech, in a Primary that was not supposed to count.

The third thing she is doing in that statement that is so interesting is she says "where people voted", by stating this she is disregarding the states that Obama won through Caucuses. Which includes Iowa, and Texas (a state Clinton claims she won).

The problem is, the Democratic nomination is not decided on popular vote (which she is not winning regardless of what she claims) it is decided on the number of Delegates (both pledged and super) that each candidate receives. In the Delegate count, Obama is also winning. These are the rules that the Party has agreed to.

Every time Obama makes a move towards the end zone (sweet football metaphor) the Clinton camp extends the field.

On another note. I keep hearing how Obama cannot "close the deal." I find this to be perplexing. Just five months ago Clinton was the inevitable candidate, the next President of the U.S.A. She was the one who had the former President as a husband. She was the one who had the Party infrastructure in every state. She was the one with all the donors, and the clear path to the General Election. Now her camp, and the media, would try to paint her as some kind of underdog who keeps nipping at Obama's heals just enough to keep him from "Closing the Deal". How do these narratives get written?

The best part of all of this is, following the May 6th Primaries in North Carolina and Indiana, all of her arguments will go out the window. Following those two votes, Obama will lead in both Delegate count, and popular vote even if she continues to count the phantom votes in Michigan and Florida, , essentally destroying this weeks argument why she should stay in the race. What will she turn to next?

As I Was Saying

This sums it better than I have been able to...




Interesting how she used the "Tide is Turning" line last night (see previous Terry thoughts for the video)

The Day After

I stayed up and watched about as much of Pat Buchannon as I could possibly stand (him calling Rachel Maddow a Marxist was probably when I should have stopped watching). MSNBC was falling all over themselves trying to figure out how and why Clinton was able to pull of a double digit victory in the face of Obama out spending her 2-1 in advertising.

The simple answer is, she had a 33 point lead less than a month ago. Obama had to out spend her 2-1 just to cut into her lead as much as he.

The fact that is not being mentioned on the networks, either last night, or this morning is that Clinton did not win by 10%...with 99% reporting...

CLINTON, HILLARY 1,234,547 54.3%
OBAMA, BARACK 1,041,136 45.8%


that is an 8.5% victory, which is a far cry from 10. The problem is, at this point the narrative has already been written, and even if the networks start calling it a single digit victory, attention-span-challenged Americans have already tuned out.

The Clinton Campaign is claiming that it raked in 2.5 million in donations following yesterdays victory....so by my calculations, that puts them about 7.5 million in the red.

Clinton ended up with a 3 delegate swing last night, 3. All of which will be made up in Indiana, and North Carolina, where he is way ahead in polls. Both states fit the mold of those that he has won big in. This is a last gasp for the Clinton Campaign.



I would be lying if I didn't say I was disappointed, a 4 point loss would have looked a lot better than 8.5, but I do not think this changes a whole lot beyond extending this fight and keeping the attention off of John McCain.

Super Tuesday (take 3)

The Polls closed seven minutes ago in Pennsylvania. That noise you hear is the death rattle of the Clinton Campaing. Tim Russert of NBC just said on MSNBC's coverage (hosted by Keith Olberman) that Clinton needs a big (double digit) win in Penn in order to continue to receive money from donors, otherwise she is going to run out of money (if she has not already). Without money, no matter how badly she wants it, no matter what tactics she will resort to, no matter how much shit she can throw against the wall, she simply will not be able to remain in this race.

I have noticed in recent days/weeks, a number of talking heads reffering to Obama as the eventual candidate, and that what we have endured for the last month has been simply going through the motions.

Barack Obama is going to be the Democratic Nominee,




Barack Obama is going to be the next president of These United States

Monday's Politics Fix

Tomorrow is the all important (is there an echo in here Ohio and Texas) Democratic Primary in Pennsylvania. Thanks to New Hampshire we can no longer trust any polling that is done prior to the actual primary. That being said, polls have shown a wide range of possible outcomes.

Today I have seen polls showing an Obama lead by a few points, and I have seen polls showing a double digit lead for Clinton. The speculation is that who ever is able to turn out their base, will be the victor. At this point, Obama is polling better among those who have typically voted for him than Clinton among her base of support.

Realistically, Clinton needs to win by a 25 point margin (something she has yet to do in any primary) to stay mathematically alive in the pledged delegate count. I think that anything more than a 10 point win will be spun by the Clintons as a sign they need to stay in the race.

If Obama is able to keep in under 10 points, or win the fucking thing, I can see no way that she can continue this charade. Her whole justification for staying in this losing battle is that she has won "big" states (New York, California and Ohio, all states that will likely go Democrat in November regardless of who that is) if she is unable to win "big" tomorrow, that justification no longer applies, if it ever did.


I don't know how she can compete with this...

Today's Shameless Obama Plug

Reason #1042 why Terry is an Obama supporter (don't even get me started about the ABC debate, I just got the vein in my head to go down)



Fuck Bowling....that right, I said it. Fuck Bowling. Fuck Helmet Hair and her beer and a shot with the boys....

I cannot even hear what she says, she sounds to me like the Martians from "Mars Attacks"

Weddings and Memories

Today I am as far away from my Daughter as I have been since she was born. Walking away from her this morning was as hard of a moment as I have had with her. I have just tried not to think about where I am and where she is.

I am in Poughkeepsie, NY for Anthony Mariani's wedding. Anthony was one of my 4 roommates in college. We were very close and I have been looking forward to seeing him for a long time.

I was married, and not a father the last time I saw Ant. It is going to be great seeing him.

What I didn't think about was the fact that all of my college roomates, and friends were going to be here. It is 4:00 in the afternoon and I have not seen anyone yet, but I will tonight, and tomorrow. I am excited, and a little scared.

I have spent the better part of today, the part that I wasnt yelling at the assholes going 50 mph in the left hand lane, thinking about the four years of my life that I spent with these guys.

I am overwhelmed with memories. Most of which are the kind of shit that I am not all that proud of. But that is who I was, and I am who I am.

I have a thousand memories.

One the bus, on my first trip with the varsity football team at Brockport, I was scared to death. It was all new to me, and I barely knew anyone.

Ant. stood up in the back of the bus (I was in the front), and yelled in a South Park's, Terrence and Phillip voice...."Terrance, did you fart...Hahhahahah" it broke the ice for me, everyone laughed and I was able to relax.

It was a stupid thing, and Ant probably thought he was teasing me, but it meant the world to a kid who was scared to death.

I lived with a man, unlike any I had met up to that point. And unlike any I have met since.

Joe Toombs was the weirdest man I have ever met. Joey danced to a song that no one else heard.

Joe and I would stay in the same hotel room when we traveled for college football games. Joey was usually a quiet, polite roomate and him and I never had any issues.

Until Delaware.

We traveled to Delaware our Senior year. It was a hot night and we both had a hard time falling asleep. I woke up at 4 am and went to the bathroom. Joey was not in his bed. I didnt really think anything of it, and I went back to bed. I figured he must be on the other side of his bed, sleeping on the floor.

I woke at 6 or 7, no Joey. I went to our team breakfast, no Joey. I went back to our room, showered, got packed, still no Joey. At this point I was starting to worry. I think I was slightly afraid Rocco (our coach, who treated Joe like an estranged son) would blame me for not keeping a better eye on him. I boarded our bus at around 10, still no Joe.

We were about to pull out, and Joe got on the bus, acting like nothing had happened. I immedately interogated him about where he was.

Joe informed me, like it was the most normal thing in the world, that he had slept in the closet, because the street light was keeping him awake. He said it, and turned around and walked away like nothing happend.

That was Joe, the kid who slept in the closet and thought it was no big deal.

This is going to be a great weekend.

I miss Avi.

A Few Thoughts on the Olympic Controversy

Give me a minute....Okay thanks, I had to say goodbye to the tree I spent the day hugging. Let me loosen up my Birkenstocks, light my bong, and munch on some granola while I try, through a haze of smoke and a Grateful Dead album keeping me mellow, to respond to those who would attack me for my opinion...

The Olympics were founded on a the concept of striking a balance between competition and cooperation. Terry actually took the time to read the Olympic Charter...and found that this is what it said in article 1

1. Olympism is a philosophy of life, exalting and combining in a balanced whole the qualities of
body, will and mind. Blending sport with culture and education, Olympism seeks to create a
way of life based on the joy of effort, the educational value of good example and respect for universal fundamental ethical principles.

2. The goal of Olympism is to place sport at the service of the harmonious development of man,
with a view to promoting a peaceful society concerned with the preservation of human dignity.

(emphasis mine)


nowhere in the first 15 pages (of 105) that I read did I find anything about turning a blind eye to gross Human Rights violations in the name of sport. Nowhere did I find where it said that for the purpose of these Olympics should I overlook the fact that China has been a major force behind the violence in Darfur:

Since 2003 an estimated 400,000 people have died as a result of the campaign of ethnic cleansing being waged against the people of the Darfur region of Sudan by the military regime of General Omar al-Bashir. As many as 2.5 million people have been made into refugees.

The so-called janjaweed militia, armed and trained by the Sudanese army, has waged a campaign of murder, torture, rape and plunder across the Darfur region, often openly assisted by the army and air force. The groups under attack in Darfur -- mainly the Fur, Zaghawa, and Massaleit peoples -- are Sunni Muslims, just like those running the regime in Khartoum, but they are ethnically African rather than Arab.

Sudan has always been a frontier zone between the Arab and African worlds -- the word "Sudan" means "land of the Blacks" in Arabic. Encouraged by pan-Arabist and Islamist ideologists from Egypt and Libya, the Bashir regime, which seized power from an elected government in 1989, has sought to gain popular support from the Arab majority by launching an ethnic war against the African minorities.

Efforts by the African Union (AU) and the UN either to negotiate an end to the conflict or to put an international peacekeeping force into Sudan have been consistently thwarted by the Sudanese regime. Sudan has tried to paint the issue as one of Sudanese sovereignty versus interfering Westerners. It sadly has been supported by its fellow members of the Arab League. It was pleasing last month to see the AU reject Bashir's bid to be elected as the organization's president for this year.

Sudan's main ally, however, has been China, which has consistently blocked efforts at the UN to have Sudan's actions classed as genocide, to have effective sanctions put in place, or to have a peacekeeping force with the power to protect the people of Darfur put into Sudan.

What does China care about a squalid ethnic conflict in central Africa? Why is one of the world's greatest powers indifferent to the genocides in Darfur and the effect on China's reputation of its sponsorship of Khartoum.

The answer is partly economic self-interest, and partly geopolitics. Sudan's economy has been a disaster for decades, mainly as a result of mismanagement by successive military regimes. In the 1990s it was the world's largest debtor to the World Bank and the IMF.

But since 2000 major oil discoveries have been made in south and central Sudan. Most major oil companies regard the country as too unstable for investment, but the gap has been filled by China, along with companies from Canada and Malaysia.

Today oil is Sudan's major export, indeed its only major export, and 80 percent of its oil exports go to China -- currently worth more than US$2 billion a year. Beijing is also investing millions in infrastructure, including the pipeline from the oilfields to the tanker terminal at Port Sudan. Chinese laborers are building roads and airfields in oil-producing regions. Some of these airfields are used by the Sudanese air force to launch air attacks on undefended villages in Darfur.

This oil bonanza for Sudan pays not only for vital food imports, but also for new Chinese military hardware including tanks, fighters, helicopters, machine guns and rocket-propelled grenades.

China is Sudan's largest supplier of arms. It is thus a knowing and willing accomplice in the Bashir regime's genocide in Darfur.

Chinese President Hu Jintao (胡錦濤) has just been there, and in the middle of this international humanitarian crisis, and as columnist Sebastian Mallaby wrote in the Washington Post on Feb. 5, Hu called on nations to "respect the sovereignty of Sudan."

But since the end of the Cold War, the Western view of sovereignty has grown increasingly contingent. If a nation slaughters its civilians (think Rwanda, Kosovo), harbors terrorists (Afghanistan) or refuses to cooperate with UN weapons inspectors (Iraq), it forfeits its right to sovereignty. It may not be invaded, but it certainly can expect to face sanctions.

Part of China's motivation is an increasingly desperate need for new oil suppliers. Twenty years ago China supplied 90 percent of its own oil. Now, with domestic consumption surging, China can supply only 40 percent of its needs from domestic sources. China invested heavily in Iraq under late president Saddam Hussein, but since the US-led invasion, China can no longer count on favorable treatment. In Russia, Japanese companies with deeper pockets have outbid CNPC for access to new Siberian oilfields. Sudan is the answer to China's energy prayers -- poor, but oil-rich and in need of friends.

China is also playing a deeper game, following a longer term geopolitical strategy. What Beijing's authoritarian leadership fear more than anything else is the spread of Western democratic ideals -- what they call "bourgeois liberalism."

They saw what happened to their old comrades in the Soviet Union, and they are determined that no such thing will happen to them. To curb the spread of liberal democratic politics, they are forming new geopolitical alliances, giving diplomatic and economic aid to other regimes which also fear democratic ideas.

Today any country that is in trouble at the UN over abuses of human rights can always rely on a Chinese veto in the Security Council. China is the best friend of the military regime in Myanmar -- one of the world's most oppressive regimes -- and of President Robert Mugabe's bankrupt dictatorship in Zimbabwe.

On a broader canvas, a la George Orwell, China is trying to form a "Eurasian bloc" with Russia, Iran and the states of former Soviet Central Asia. It has formed the Shanghai Cooperation Organization with these countries, the goal of which is to control much of the world's energy supplies, and link these to China's huge population and dynamic economy.


http://www.taipeitimes.com/News/editorials/archives/2007/04/06/2003355508

China may have made strides economically in recent years, becoming one of the worlds true economic superpowers. That growth however, has come at the price of sacrificing Human Rights, and basic Human Dignity, the principals that the Olympics were based on. The question is not whether I have the right to protest, or you have the right to support. The question is not who is right, those who support or those who oppose. The question is, how given China's ugly, and recent history, were they granted the Privilege of hosting the Games in the first place.

Those of us who disagree are not necessarily tie-dye wearing, acid-flashback hippies. We are not all coffee house beatniks, or Birkenstock wearing, bleeding heart liberals.

We don't all reside in in San Francisco, or P-town MA.

We are your neighbors, your friends, your siblings, your co-workers, and your loved ones.

I guess the question really is, what would the original Birkenstock wearing, human rights defending, protesting, LIBERAL think....What Would Jesus Do.

Be careful the words you choose when attacking us.

That's How You Respond...

..To ridiculous attacks about an out-of-context statement


The best part is about 4:00 minutes in when he refers to Hill as "Anne Oakley"...The smile is classic.

The man continues to be Teflon....They keep flinging shit at him, and nothing sticks. Note to Hillary and John: The reason you can not get him backed into a corner is because he continues to speak the truth. Spin it any way you want, the truth is the truth whether you want to hear it or not.

Unlike Sniper fire in Bosnia, or an inability to decern the difference between Shia and Sunni Muslims...The Man continues to prove that the "lack of experience" argument just does not hold water.

The End of the Pier

Her windswept hair refused to stay out of face, no matter how she pleaded. Her hair was more wavy that curly, as it always had been. Colors change with age, browns to blacks and back again. Blue never changes.



The trees formed a murmuring procession as she made her way down the busy street. Waving and bowing with each breath of the salty air. The leaves were a crisp green, edged with brown. She took this in as she made her way past busy shops and quite alleys. The years had defined her eyes, her father's eyes. She walked, calmly on her mother's legs with a light step, and quiet foot falls. Seeing him this day would be like stepping into the pages of a book. Crisp with age, top corner folded down from years of reading and rereading. As she walked she drifted back into those pages.



It was years, lifetimes ago. A long walk around a pond, they called it a pond to her eyes it was an ocean, the largest ocean. They walked and he talked. He told her what had happened, he told her what was going to happen. She listened, as always hanging on every word. He told her about a man and his story. He told her about a war, and a declaration. The words were no more than words to her young ears. They walked around the pond, he slowed when she struggled to keep up. His eyes glowed when he took in the view. She would later come to understand what this place was and why a bug was important. He would tell her that afternoon that dragon flies bring parents babies. She didn't know what he meant. She chased the dragon flies as she ran along the path that outlined the pond. He asked her to be careful not to hurt them, otherwise the parents would never learn of their unborn children. She laughed at him as she looked over her shoulder at his face, she raised an eyebrow like her mother did, rolled her eyes and kept running.



They found their place, the opposite side of the pond, away from a world of people. She swam, she was a fish, no a whale, no a shrimp. She made her way to the bottom and back up. He sat in the shallows and wrote. She was in the ocean, she was talking with the fish that she had named in his tank at home. She emerged from the water and could tell that although he looked like he was intent on his writing, his eyes had darted back to his pages when she looked at him. He had been watching her every move. His eyes, she saw had that look again, that look she did not understand and he would not explain. He would say he did not know what she was talking about, that he had a hair in his eye. She swam back into the depths, continuing her quest to reach the bottom of the world. He had shown her pictures in books, had seen the places in movies, she would find those wonders in this pond. She would discover a new species and proudly display it for him. He always told her she was nosy, she would show him.



He took her to a bridge. It looked old to her, he told her it was rebuilt because the years had been hard on the wood. They walked along a path and he told her a story. She tried to listen, but she knew if she forgot, he would tell her again, he always told her. He put her in a tree and took a picture. He had that look again, but she did not mention it this time.



He took her to a cemetery. He showed her little stones with names on them. They were standing on a ridge, looking down on lifetimes, on families, on children and grand parents. He told her about writers. A generation of writers who were left on this ridge, just a head stone to mark their place. She was quiet, he had taught her to be quiet among the dead. He had told her as they walked up the path, do not pity the dead, pity those who live without love. He said things like that, things she didn't think made any sense. He would get a different look on his face when he said those things. He was odd, and she new it. But he was hers. It was grey on that ridge. The sun hid, she missed the sun.



She stopped walking, the wind trapping her hair in her eyes again. She pushed it out of her eyes. As she did so she realized that her hand was wet. She had started crying and didn't realize it. She had not revisited those days in a long time. They were left, packed away in the trunk at the foot of her bed. The trunk she realized with a start, that he had given her. Another memory that had been packed away, he had cried that day as well.



She had stood there, smiling surrounded by friends, ready to take on the world, ready to step into a life. He had been very quiet. She was angry that he was not in a better mood, this was her party after all, how could he be so quiet. She found him sitting in the room at the end of the hall, he was reading that book again. He always picked it up when he was sad. His hand was slowly rubbing the back of his leg, as he always did when he had that book out. He smiled when he looked up at her. Her words caught in her throat as she made eye contact with him, a shadow a crept across his eyes. The sun moved out from behind a cloud, they both looked out the window and nodded, as if approving of the cloud for having the decency to get out of the sun's way. When her eyes returned to him, the shadow was gone. He was standing and walking towards her, he hugged her, as he did when he was quiet like this. She hugged him back and took him by the hand back out to their guests.



The wind quieted down, slowed enough for her to catch her breath. The forgotten memories, those she had moved aside were coming back, hitting her one after another. Birthdays, Christmases, summers and winters, falls and springs. She sat on a bench behind her. The weight of the memories forcing her to sit, the weight was crushing. She slowly realized what it was he meant, when he had said crying, do not forget me. She had told him she needed to see things for herself, needed to make her own stories. She had heard enough of his, she needed her own. It had been years. They had talked, she had kept him up on where she was and what stories she was making. His voice was light when she had talked to him, but she could hear the weight of their distance just beyond his words. The gravity of what was soon to happen fell upon her like the weight of the world.



He had said he would be there, waiting. He had told her no matter how long it took he would be there. Understanding began to blossom, slowly at first but gaining speed. He had always been there, the stories were more than words. She stood and walked, each step coming faster than the last. She reached the end of the pier and there he was. He looked to her eyes, as he had on that day at the pond. He looked as he always had. He walked slowly towards her, put his hands gently on either side of her face and kissed her forehead. He had that look in his eyes again when he looked at her. They sat and talked. Talked about what happened, talked about what's going to happen. The sun came out from behind a cloud. The both looked up instictivley and nodded. They sat together and said hello to the world, they thanked the sun, and they smiled.

Why Terry is boycotting the Beijing Olympics

There are very few ways for a twenty-five year old American consumer to actively and effectively protest the treatment of the Tibetan people by the Chinese Government.

Walk into a store and try to boycott Chinese products, while getting the things you "need". In today's market, this just is not possible.

Here is a quick history lesson on the history of the conflict.

The People's Liberation Army (PLA) defeated the Tibetan army in a bloodless war at Chamdo on October 7 1950. This attack marked the beginning of Beijing’s campaign to incorporate Tibet into People's Republic of China

According to Samdhong Rinpoche and the 14th Dalai Lama, on January 1 1950 the PRC promised to "liberate" Tibet. The People's Liberation Army first entered eastern Tibet (Chamdo) on October 7 1950. The highly mobile units of the PLA quickly surrounded the outnumbered Tibetan forces, and by October 19 1950, 5,000 Tibetan troops had surrendered. After confiscating their weapons, the PLA soldiers gave their prisoners lectures on socialism, and a small amount of money, and allowed them to return to their homes.

The PLA then continued on to central Tibet, but halted its advance 200km to the east of Lhasa, at what China claimed was the de jure boundary of Tibet, where they stopped and demanded Tibet's "peaceful liberation."

The PLA, while possessing overwhelming military advantage, was also set on winning the hearts and minds of the Tibetan populace. At first, they treated the local populace very well, building roads, and paying locals for their labor.[2] According to Tenzin Gyatso, the current Dalai Lama, the PLA did not attack civilians: "The Chinese were very disciplined. They were like the British soldiers (in 1904). Even better than the British, because they distributed some money (to villagers and local leaders). So they carefully planned."

The PLA sent released prisoners (among them Ngapoi Ngawang Jigme, a captured governor) to Lhasa to negotiate with the Dalai Lama on the PLA's behalf. The PLA promised that if Tibet was "peacefully liberated", the Tibetan elites would keep their privileges and power. At the same time, Jigme and other released captives testified to their good treatment by the PLA. As the PLA had stopped and was asking for peaceful negotiations instead of entering Lhasa unimpeded, the United Nations unanimously dropped the issue from the agenda. The combination of military pressure, reports of good treatment from locals and released prisoners, and the lack of international support convinced the Tibetan representatives to enter negotiations with the PLA.

Several months later, in May 1951, the Tibetan representatives signed a seventeen-point agreement in Beijing with the PRC's Central People's Government affirming China's sovereignty over Tibet. The agreement was ratified in Lhasa a few months later. An article released by the Tibetan Government in Exile in 1996 states that the treaty was imposed on Tibet by force and it "was never validly concluded and was rejected by Tibetans." After a visit to determine human rights abuses in Tibet, UK parliament's Select Committee on Foreign Affairs' Seventh Report on Human Rights supported the Tibetan position.


Samdhong Rinpoche, the 14th Dalai Lama, and other Tibetans in exile have accused the PRC government of a campaign of terror which led to the destruction of monasteries and disappearance of up to 1.2 million Tibetans. By 1962 only 70 of the original 2,500 monasteries in the Tibet Autonomous Region were left and 93% of the monks were forced out. The "1.2 million" figure for deaths since 1950 dates to a figure from the Tibetan Government-in-exile which they break down to 433,000 through military action, 343,000 through famine, 173,000 through imprisonment, 157,000 through execution, 93,000 through torture and 9,000 through suicide.



In July 2001 a monument was established to commemorate the event. Beijing says that Tibet was under an uninterrupted series of Chinese governments that has ruled Tibet and China since Genghis Khan. In 2005 president Hu Jintao asserted Tibet has been an "inalienable part of Chinese territory" from the time of the Mongol conquest onward. This has been taught to Chinese students since 1912.


The UN General Assembly passed resolutions condemning China for "violations of fundamental human rights of the Tibetan people" in 1959, 1961 and 1965. German Federal Parliament held hearings on Tibet on June 19 1995, and passed a resolution on June 20 1996 stating they were "deeply concerned that this independent identity has been threatened by destruction since the Chinese action by brutal force of arms in 1950" and that China had deprived the Tibetans of self-determination. The US Congressional Human Rights Caucus in 1987 reviewed testimony from Tibetans who detailed human rights abuses, resulting in a congressional motion that condemned Chinese actions in Tibet. In 2006 a lawsuit was filed by the Madrid-based Committee to Support Tibet in a Spanish court. The group said that more than one million Tibetans had been killed or gone missing since China occupied Tibet in 1951.


I am doing my part. I would have to think long and hard about my support of Olympic games in this country as well.

Please take the time

And watch this. Find the 30 minutes. Of all the things I think about, worry about, care about....this is the most important.

"If you want to go quickly go alone. If you want to go far go together"

http://www.ted.com/talks/view/id/243

Mike Mikolaichik

I wrote this a while ago, for a friend. I think it deserves a spot here.





It was a warm day for that time of the year. It was one of those fall days where summer refuses to let go its grip. It was a damp day. The turf squished under my cleats as I stepped from the ply wood pathway covering the all-weather track onto the grass for the first time. I began my pre-game routine, which included a suppositious series of running and stretching drills. I slowly worked my way through my routine, preparing myself to play the same way I had for years. I was completely oblivious of what lay before me. I had no idea that this game would be unlike any I had ever played. This day would be unlike any I had ever experienced.


I saw him from a distance. His familiar shape stood out from the other players wearing black and orange. He had gotten bigger in the years since high school, he was however, easily recognizable. He was warming up, throwing with another quarterback. He was near mid-field which made it easy for me to get close enough to greet him. He had his back to me, I saw him before he saw me. I slowly made my way towards the fifty- yard line. I was nervous, I did not know how he was going to receive me. It had been over a year since I had seen him last, and given our current circumstances I did not know what to expect. I hung around mid-field long enough for him to see me. He turned slowly towards me, tears streaming down his face. He looked at me with eyes I had seen for years, standing in a huddle, being told what play we were going to run, or what we were going to do to win this game or that. He had always had a quite confidence. He could step into a huddle, and make every other young man feel that we were going to succeed. Those eyes that were so familiar, were crying. He looked at me and said: “Matt died this morning”.


We were never in the same classes in Elementary School. A football field became the first context in which I defined Mike. We practiced on the fields next to our elementary school. I hated football at first. To say I disliked the contact would be an understatement. I wanted to quit after a week. My father refused to let me quit. My parents had made an exception, allowing me to play a year earlier than they had let my brother. What came so naturally to Mike was a struggle for me. He was the quarterback from as far back as I can remember. I bounced from position to position. Not athletic enough for the skill positions, not big enough for a lineman. Mike looked like he was born to be a quarterback. He was tall and lean, with a strong arm and the head to handle the responsibilities of the position.

I grew to like the contact, with time I learned to relish it. By our freshman year of high school, Mike had spent years honing his skills at one position and I had finally settled into the role of a running back/fullback in what I pictured was the mold of former Tampa Bay Buccaneer, Mike Alstott. We had different core groups of friends in high school. We played different sports. Mike was an excellent basket ball and baseball player. I ran track in the spring, more to stay in shape than because I was particularly fast. The one thing that kept us united was football. Every summer we would work out at the school together, every August we would grind through double sessions. I bore witness as Mike developed into one of the best quarterbacks in the county.


I felt like the world had stopped spinning, the wind had stopped blowing, for I had stopped breathing. My words died in my chest. I looked into his eyes and felt his heartache. I stood, rooted on the spot. I have no memory of what happened then. My next recollection was back in the locker room. Our team would come together prior to taking the field. Our coach would give us a motivational talk followed by a prayer, and we would take the field. I did not hear a word he said. My head was swimming and I was a whirlwind of emotions. Football is a game that has to be played with a level of intensity not often found in other sports. To be able to throw your body at another human being as hard as one possibly can, you have to take yourself to a mental place that is not reached easily. I had spent the previous week visualizing myself hitting my friend as hard as I could. I had run through potential plays, and watched hours of video studying tendencies. I had spent the last nine years teaching myself to hate my opponents. I had trained my brain to forget logic and reason, to inflict as much punishment as possible, within the context of the game, on another player. Now I sat on one knee, tears streaming down my face, head in hands, forgetting all of that training, ignoring the honed instincts, all I wanted to do was hug my friend.


We took the field, went through our pre-game rituals and were ready for kick off. My dichotomy of emotions was overwhelming. At the time, Brockport had a very good team, and Buffalo State was no match physically. I watched with an increasingly heavy heart as my friend picked himself up off the turf, play after play. I bore witness as he would walk to the sideline series after unsuccessful series, sit on the bench crying until he had to go lead his offense back onto the field. The game quickly got out of hand. I begged my teammates, if they had to hit him, help the man back up. I had never in my life witnessed something so real, so brave, or so heart breaking. He would tell me later that he played because that is what he thought Matt would have wanted. I was speechless.


Our senior season ended disappointingly. We were not as good as either of us had hoped. I was injured in the first round of the playoffs, as was our starting fullback. Without his starting backfield, Mike did all he could, but it was not enough. In high school, we lived or died with the wins and losses, how little we knew. Mike and I both received All-County honors following the season. We were both asked to play in the Eddie Meath All-Star game. I was not surprised that Mike received this honor. I cannot say the same for myself. Mike and I lived around the corner from one another. We would drive to the practices together. We spent more time that week, just the two of us, than we ever had before. Mike and I had never been particularly close friends away from football. Our bond was forged on hot summer days, and wet and cold fall nights. It was cemented on nights like the one our homecoming game was played on. Our field was being dedicated to the previous Athletic Director. In a freezing driving rain, Mike handed the ball to me thirty-six times, we did not mishandle one exchange.


Mike was the unrecognized star of the Eddie Meath game. Among the pomp and circumstance surrounding that wonderful event was lost the fact that every drive that Mike led ended in a touchdown. That fact was not lost on me. Playing only defense in the game, I was able to watch him play from the sidelines for the first time. His calm and controlled attitude was palpable even from my vantage point. That night would be the last time I would share a field with Mike for three years.

As I stood, speechless, conflicted, and confused, I remembered that day, at Fauver Stadium, watching him control the game. I stood, hurting for my friend, as the game wore on. When the final horn sounded, I looked for Mike and I could not find him. I waited impatiently as our coach gave his post game speech. I ran back across the field as soon as I could hoping to catch him before I had to get on our bus. I found his head coach and explained to him who I was. He told me that he had left as soon as the game had ended. I felt out of place, I wanted to share with my friend how sorry I was. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to cry with him. I wanted him to know that I was there for him, that what ever he needed I would provide.


I boarded our bus and we headed back east on the Thru Way. There was a car accident along the way, and I had a moment of shear panic, fearing that he had gotten into and accident rushing to get home to his family. I had never felt so useless in my life. He did not need me, he needed his family.


I stood to the side at the funeral. I do not know if he saw me there. I did not know how to act or what to say. I felt like I had intruded on a personal moment. I felt that by being on the field that day, watching him struggle through such a terrible time, that I had somehow violated his privacy, like I had seen something he did not want anyone to see. I had witnessed the rawest of human emotions that day. I had stood, fifty-yards away as another human being, one I called my friend, had suffered. I did not watch as Matt’s body was lowered into the ground. I watched my friend’s face. I watched as something broke inside of him. Matt was more than his little brother, Matt was his best friend.

After that day, it was years until I saw him again. I had kept up with him from a distance. I knew he had become the quarterback for the Rochester Raiders. I knew that he had hurt his foot so bad that the doctors feared for his ability to walk again, let alone play football. I knew that his desire to play drove him to get healthy, to get back onto the field. I saw him at a wedding last fall. I had become a father the week before, but all I could talk about was him. He was smiling again. It was a smile I was afraid I would not see again. Mike Mikolachik was smiling, he had found someone to share his life with. Someone who made him laugh. I am going to take my daughter to see him play this spring. I want her to see her dad’s hero, doing that which always brought him so much joy. Doing that which Matt would have wanted him to do.

I am Really Trying

Not to talk about Baseball so much, but being the first week of the season it is really dominating my brain.

Not to mention, Aviendha was out with her mother last night and I had nothing better to do (no Mets game) than watch the Yankees/Blue Jays game.


So there I was (I love starting a story like that) watching the game, Yankees v. Bluejays on the YES network. And whose voice to I hear, raving about Yanks starter Phil Hughes, why it's Michael Kay, Terry's second least favorite Yankees broad caster (Sorry Mike, Suzan "oh my gawd, of all the dramtic things in the world, it's Rawger Clemens in George's booth" Waldman takes the cake).

So I was listening to Mike, and his abnormally large head, which he uses to store countless useless Yankees facts, as he was absolutely gushing about Hughes.

Now don't get me wrong. Phil Hughes is a very talented 21-year-old kid. But the next great young Major League Pitcher he is not. The Yankees and their broadcasters can talk the kid up all they like. Terry has used his powers of observation, and regarless of what comes out of Yankee land where it relates to Hughes, Phenom he is not.

Last night Hughes pitched effectively, using a well controlled 90-93 mph fastball and a very good curve to handle the Jays lineup.


The word "dominant" did not come to mind. I actually thought that he looked an awful lot like a right handed Jon Lester, the Red Sox rookie who was rated higher than Hughes prior to Lester being diagnosed with Lymphoma.

What was more, Hughes was opposed by 25 year old Dustin McGowan of the Jays. McGowan was clearly the most talented pitcher on the field last night (not to mention his sweet mutton chops).

McG. sports a 94-96 Mph fastball, a nasty slider and a good change.

Here are the lines from last night:

6.0IP 4H 2R 2ER 3BB 4K 0HR 3.00ERA
6.0IP 4H 2R 2ER 1BB 4K 0HR 3.00ERA

Now Guess whose line was whose? (hint:McGowan comes first and walked two more batters)

But to hear Kay talk about Hughes, you would have thought the Jays didn't even have a pitcher going last night. What I found so ironic was, not only did the Jays have a pitcher going, but it was a young kid with clearly better stuff that Hughes.

Which was a fact Kay was flat out ignoring. Hughes was "blowing people away" with his 91 mph fastball, while McGowan "Got Damon to strike with a defensive swing on a pitch out of the zone"

I really need to find something to do when Aviendha is gone, and there is no Mets game on.

Terry Loves a Head Case

If there is one fact about myself that is undoubtedly true, it is my love for a head case.

What I love more than anything else in the world is a head case pitcher.

I love that guy, you know him, the one that can throw the ball through a brick wall, if only he could hit the wall with any semblance of consistency.

I cannot help but cheer for that guy, I have tried, and I cannot help it.




I fell for him in the spring of 2003. I was playing way too much MVP baseball 2004 (as any real fan of PS2 baseball games can attest, this was the height of baseball games for the platform). I played, and played...and played some more. I created the ultimate franchise, capable of winning 120 games a year.

The fifth starter on that team was a little known left hander from the Pittsburgh Pirates: Oliver Perez.




Oliver's Head Case-iness was not showcased on the game. I had in fact never seen him pitch in real life. All I knew of him I had divined from his character on MVP 04, a fire balling sidearmer from Mexico.

It wasn't until the spring of 2005 that I got my first taste of what Oliver Perez had to offer in real life.

He was pitching for Mexico in the inaugural World Baseball Classic (which Terry is ridiculously excited for next Spring).

It was upon observing this awkward, slightly snaggle toothed lefty proudly displaying the green and red of his homeland, that I began to realize just how obsessed I was with the man I would come to know only as Ollie P.

Time passed, the '05 season came and went. I continued to know Oliver mostly through MVP baseball, which they stopped making in '05, meaning I had to keep playing the old version if I wanted to get my Oliver fix (which I did).


Then, in the summer of '06, disaster struck. Terry's other favorite head case pitcher got into a car accident in Miami. Duaner Sanchez had been the rock in the Mets Bullpen for the first four months of the season.

On the eve of the trading deadline, Duaner's taxi was t-boned while he was on the way back from a Mexican resturante. He hurt his pitching shoulder and would require surgery.

It seems the fates had aligned. Mets GM Omar Minaya pulled off a deadline deal for Pirates relief pitcher Roberto Hernandez, sending to Pittsburgh outfielder Xavier Nady.

Thrown into the deal was a disappointing left-handed pitcher toiling away in AAA with an ERA above 6.00, and a record that looks worse. His name: Oliver Perez.

Terry began telling anyone who would listen just how good of a deal this was for the Mets. How Pittsburgh didn't know what it had given up on. Oliver was set to AAA and was underwhelming in the few starts he did get in the regular season.

Then the playoffs came.

With no one else to turn to in the final game of the NLCS, the game that would decide who would represent the NL in the World Series, The Mets or the Cardinals, Oliver got the ball.

In the sixth inning Oliver gave up a hit to Jim Edmonds. Willie Randolph made a trip to the mound to see how Ollie felt about facing Scott Rolen who was coming to the plate. Ollie, in a terrifically head case-y moment, told Randolph that he could handle Rolen.

Rolen turned on a fastball, I cannot describe to you what that moment was like, let Gary Cohen, the voice of Mets baseball do if for me:

"Pérez deals. Fastball, hit in the air to leftfield - that's deep. Back goes Chávez, back near the wall.... leaping.... and.... HE MADE THE CATCH! He took a home run away from Rolen! Trying to get back to first, Edmonds; he's doubled off! And the inning is over! Endy Chávez saved the day! He reached high over the leftfield wall, right in front of the Mets' visitor's bullpen, and pulled back a two-run homer. He went to the apex of his leap, and caught it in the webbing of his glove - with his elbow up above the fence. A miraculous play, by Endy Chávez, and then Edmonds is doubled off first, and Oliver Pérez escapes the sixth inning. The play of the year, the play - maybe - of the franchise's history for Endy Chávez. The inning is over."




I screamed myself horse. Oliver Perez had delivered the most head casey moment in sports that I had ever witnessed.

Nothing could top this. Not the game that he walked 7 Phillies last April, not the game where he fanned 7 Braves last fall.

Nothing could top that moment, it was like watching my kid get on the bus for the first time, or score the winning touchdown, I felt like a proud father.

As history will show, the Mets ulimately lost the game. Oliver however had nothing to do with that (thank you Aaron Hielman, Guillermo Mota, Yadier Molina, Willie Randolph, Adam Wainwright, and Carlos Beltran).

Ollie is not the third starter in the NL's best rotation.

And just to prove a point to a Braves fan friend of mine, who like me believes that Ollie is poison to the Braves, here is his average line against Atlanta going back to 2003 when he was with the Padres:

7 IP 6H 2ER 6K

"Ollie P. what can you do for me?"

The Great Communicator

There are people who are great at speaking in public. If you put them on a stage with a podium in front of them, a bank of teleprompters to read from, and they are gracefully powerful.

There are people who can communicate on radio, using just their voice, and are able to project their message effectively, and speak as if to each individual listener like they are sitting in the room with them.

There are people who can sit on a stage, in a one-on-one interview, the stage surrounded by people watching, and can captivate both the live audience and those watching on TV.

There are people who can pack arenas, or coffee shops. They can bring a crowd to their feet, or reduce them to tears.

Some that can stand in front of a video camera and deliver the most important speech on race that this country has heard in forty years.

And then there is Barack Obama.

Who is able to be all of that, and more. I listened to him speak on the Ed Schultz show (www.edschultzshow.com) as he explained in a way that was both calm and passionate his plan on how to get our country out of the mess it is in now. From the war, to the economy, education and health care. He answered every one of Ed's questions. He spoke in a way that connected with my Twenty-five year old brain. He talked about the kind of issues that effect my life, and the lives of the people I care about.

And when he was done addressing how he plans to fix Dub's mess

He talked about the NCAA tournament, his bracket and how he sees the final four playing out. This may seem like a trivial thing for a Presidential candidate (and the presumptive Democratic candidate) to be talking about. It spoke however, to me. I want a President that has the capacity to talk about our crumbling economy, and Baseball's opening day.

I watched in disgust as W sat in the booth Sunday night in Washington, lounging in his chair, talking about when he almost bankrupt the Rangers franchise. He looked awkward and uncomfortable.

I could only picture sitting there Sunday night, B.O. and how well he would have handled sitting there in that booth with John and Joe talking about sports and politics, life and leisure.

I watched B.O on Hardball with Chris Matthews last night. Sitting on a stage with Chris, in the middle of a packed auditorium, he might as well have been sitting in his living room. Barack was calm and cool. He was funny and serious. He handled Chris's toughest questions (it is Hardball).

He put Chris on the spot for keeping the Pastor Wright story in the fore-front. After five minutes of questions concerning Barack's former pastor, Obama pointed out that it was five minutes not spent talking about 4,000 dead Americans, 5 years of a mistake of a war, or the state of our economy, to which Chris had no answer.

I turned off the TV following the show and realized I felt something that I have never felt before. I was too young to appreciate the Clinton Presidency, and knowing what I know now about it, I would like to think that I would have not approved of many of the facts.

I felt, like Michelle Obama said, Proud of my country for the first time.

I love this country. I love the freedoms that I enjoy. I love that my Daughter will grow up with a world of possibilities at her fingertips (maybe someday she will be the 5th or 6th woman president).

I don't however love many of the decisions that our Government has made, not only in my lifetime, but in the entire existence of our Republic. I, unlike nationalistic Conservatives, can love my country for what it is, and hate parts of our history.

Barack Obama is not perfect. I am not a mindless follower that will explain away every bad vote, campaign contribution from a special interest, or miss-statement.

He does however represent all that is good about American politics and society.

The man that can stand in front of 20,000 or 20 and effectively communicate his message.

The man that can inspire real change.

Joba the Mutt

If you are a baseball fan (like Terry), and have watched any games involving the Yankees since the middle of last summer, you have most likely already been introduced to the newest mythical creature in pinstripes.

Joba Chamberlain






Of course if you were watching the games, you might not recognize our portly friend from this picture because is is most likely making an ass out of himself yelling and screaming after recording an out


..as he was last night, which brings me to my point.



I am a hypocrite and I know it.



I know this because I will sit and cheer as Jonathan Papelbon yells his river dancing head off (once again I moonlight as a Red Sox fan)






But can't stand watching Joba the Mutt do the same thing. I find myself watching Yankee games often. Which is exactly where I was last night. In the eight inning Joba entered a one run game trying to hold the lead for the Yanks.



To hear Michael Kay (whom Terry cannot stand) gush about this mythical creature drives me to the brink of homicide. You would think there never was a pitcher, in the history of baseball who could throw hard, throw a good breaking ball, had a funny name, and took the league by storm in his first year.


Unfortunately for Michael Kay, Terry watches a ton of baseball and remembers when a teenage Francisco (K-Rod) Rodriquez took the league by storm, knocked the Yanks out of the playoffs en route to helping the Angels to the championship in his first half-year in the league. using a wicked breaking ball, and an over-powering fastball..









Unfortunately for Joba, like Achilles and his heal,











Gollum and his greed,






or Xerxes and his hubris,






he too has a critical downfall....





Bugs!