Classified documents released!

In a fit of brilliance, ESPN has decided to release the entire Bill Simmons archive to the public, instead of the "everything older than 45 days required Insider access bullshit." Needless to say, I got absolutely zero work done in the lab yesterday (although some progress was made on my cooling simulation.)

For those unaware of the addictive substance that is the Sports Guy Column, I'll include a few nuggets below. But first a confession - I have been pretty hard on Schilling the past couple years, unfairly so. Yes he has toolish tendencies and is a huge ham/glory hound, and lobbied for Dubya, but the fact is HE CAME TO BOSTON AND WE WON A WORLD SERIES! so I need to chill out. Remembering back to when he signed, I was on cloud nine for a month. All this was brought back to me by this column from the ALDS vs the Angels, back before he was gimpy and I was guiltily complacent.

And just to get you hooked:

The Ewing Theory: how a team can actually improve/win when the star gets hurt.

The Four Beer Analogy: (scroll down ~3/4 of the column)
Let's say you're hitting a sports bar with your buddies for Monday Night Football. You could have two or three beers, throw down some chicken wings, play some Golden Tee, wager on the home team, bond with your boys, then head home when the outcome has been decided. Or you could do everything from above, but keep throwing down beers until you're bombed and someone has to drive you home. Either way, it's going to be a good time. Well, unless you have four beers. That kills you. You're not sober enough to drive home. You're not quite drunk enough that you feel like you really let loose; if anything, you're more groggy than anything. And you drank just enough that you'll have trouble getting up for work/class the following morning. The next day, you always end up wishing you had more beers or less beers. Just not four.

  

Published by

Michael

"O Whisky! soul o' plays and pranks! Accept a bardie's gratfu' thanks! When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks Are my poor verses! Thou comes-they rattle in their ranks, At ither's a-s!" Robert Burns - "Scotch Drink" 1785