In NYC for both personal and book stuff, which are merging in interesting ways.  If you’ve read the book, this trip is almost a post-script by itself.

My sister is doing well enough now that she’s arriving tomorrow for her first-ever visit to New York, and I’ll be showing her around for a few days.  I’ll also probably visit with perhaps half a dozen characters in the book — the Luxembourgian Prince, the guy who makes paper explode in flame with his mind, the professor who beat me so badly that it was shown on airlines as in-flight entertainment, etc.  The whole thing culminates in a J!-related
visit to Radio City Music Hall in the company of a bunch of publishing people who
made the book possible.

Three bits of my life are converging at once. 
It’s pretty damned wonderful.  I am grateful to a whole bunch of people.

This was a nice surprise today, with the bottom line being:

I’m struck, however, by the sheer volume of plain errors in most reviews so far.  People who actually buy and read the book will recognize several in the Daily News piece, even though it’s only five sentences long.  (And I’m not objecting to being called a "struggling nobody."  Absolutely.  Aren’t we all?  Including lots of rich and famous people I can think of.  And some presidents.)

I don’t fault the reviewers.  This may just be a function of how book reviewing is done — apparently in considerable quantity, by reviewers who are deluged by a never-ending stream of incoming books.  I imagine Lucille Ball working the infamous assembly line of chocolates in the classic "I Love Lucy" episode, only with entire books to deal with instead of desserts.

Seriously, could you do that job well for very long?  I couldn’t.

This explains why Entertainment Weekly briefly alleged (until they graciously printed a retraction this week) that I’ve won "hundreds of thousands" in untelevised back-alley trivia competitions, and why the Daily News now ambiguously implies I won 13 times on the show, which is of course false.  Lucy is just shoving the whole of Prisoner of Trebekistan down her blouse, trying to keep up.

And that’s one visual I probably won’t be revisiting.

On the left, Bernard Law, the Archbishop of Boston forced to resign after covering up sexual advances on minors in the priesthood.

On the right, Dennis Hastert, the Speaker of the House, whose resignation is being called for across the political spectrum after covering up sexual advances on minors in the Congress.

Wow.

Via TMW via ATR via Frameshop.

According to his own March 2002 email, which was written on the same date as the fourth of the "Downing Street Memos" which prove that war was the only real option.

Almost a year later, the White House would still publicly claim that peace was their primary objective, and that war would only be a last resort.

But even lobbyists knew it was coming.  And had known.  For a year.

Which is to say: yes, the Indians sucked all year long, exactly as predicted here during the first game in April.

Several people who have read Prisoner of Trebekistan have asked if being a Cleveland sports fan is really as bad as I describe in the book.

It’s worse.

Now that it’s the last day of the regular season, let’s look back at a summer destined to go
down on history, because that’s the only way history is going to
remember it:

The leadoff hitter who was given $24 million after batting .289 last year… batted .290 this year.  (He’s actually turning into a fine player, however.  So the snark in his case is admittedly a bit unfair.)

The second hitter with not much power or speed had arguably the best
all-around year of his career.  He’s not a threat to reach 40 homers
and 40 steals like Alfonso Soriano.  He’s not likely to
reach the 30-30 club, or even 20-20.  Or 10-10.  But
he did manage to go 9-9, a mark only bettered by fifty other guys.

So
that’s exciting.

The front office traded the first baseman who can’t hit lefthanders for another
first baseman with zero career home runs.  (He now has three in 175
trips to the plate, so if he somehow doubles his output next year,
he’ll have about one-third as much power as the Phillies’ rookie first
baseman.)  Then they traded the second baseman with a career average of
about .270 for another second baseman who hit about .270, then replaced
him with a career minor leaguer.  This was actually a slight improvement.

You get the idea.  There was never, ever any hope this year.

That’s not to say the Indians have no good players.  They’ve got Travis
Hafner, a first baseman who can’t field his position, so long-term he can
only really be used as a DH.  Plus, they’ve got Ryan Garko, a promising
rookie first baseman who
can’t really field his position, so long-term he can only be used at DH. 
They’ve also got Victor Martinez, a catcher-turned-first baseman who
can’t field either position, so long-term he can only be used at DH. 

All they need now are guys to play about seven more spots on the field,
and they’re golden.  Plus about seven more decent pitchers.

The Browns,
meanwhile, have not won a football game all year.  As I write this,
they’re currently playing the Raiders, who have also not won a game all
year.  The Raiders are beating the Browns 21-3.  It doesn’t even look that close.

And yet here’s the thing: I love sports. 

This is why I spent Friday night in a bar in Santa Monica, watching the
Aussie Rules Grand Final, cheering for my buddy Jono’s favorite team. 
(Go Weagles!)  This is why I spent part of my workday yesterday watching Arsenal pull out a come-from-behind victory against Charlton.  This is why I keep Munster and Western Province matches on the Tivo.  This is why I’ll be in Sydney again in a few months, screaming my head off over the Ashes.

Basically, if I pick a team to root for in every sport played on earth, somebody has to win a title now and again.  It sure as sh*t ain’t happening any other way.

If you don’t understand why a guy who spent his whole life watching the
Browns and Indians now buys satellite subscription services from halfway around the world, just so he can
cheer for guys named Cesc Fabregas, Ronan O’Gara, and Bolla Conradie, you have not watched enough Cleveland sports.


I would like to tell you that I, for one, have.

But gosh, a couple of the Indians’ rookies actually looked pretty
good… maybe next year, I have actually thought to myself today. 
Several times.

Maybe next year.

Actually, maybe around 2009.  Maybe.

Sigh.