San Francisco Chronicle - (Sunday)
New year brings resolve to do a few things differently
One for the road: Deep thoughts, cheap shots and New Year’s resolutions ...
To knuckle down and finally finish writing that book I haven’t started.
To not scream, “Shoot the basketball!” and throw a shoe at the TV screen every time an unguarded Draymond Green passes up a shot, especially when he seems to be avoiding awkward eye contact with the basket. At least not in a nice restaurant.
To alert the Washington Post and New York Times that Jon Gruden’s Raiders are becoming like President Trump’s administration: key people keep disappearing mysteriously. Khalil Mack, Amari Cooper, Reggie McKenzie, now strength coach Tom Shaw.
Speaking of that, to dig up the name of the old outfielder who once admitted he could use more muscle, saying, “Strength is my weakness.”
To invent a way to expand on the NBA’s new “earned edition” jerseys, which are distinctively marked jerseys worn only by teams that made the playoffs the previous season. My invention will be a distinctive T-shirt or necktie to differentiate the high achievers in any job or profession from the slackers and losers who otherwise might be oblivious to their suckage.
To not ask Klay Thompson about his shooting slump. Because why should that possibly matter to anyone?
To not notice when Klay finally comes out of his slump, because to do that would be to acknowledge that he was in a slump in the first place, which would annoy him.
To discover a new baseball stat. Working title for my website: “FoulBalls.com”
To call “GotJunk?” and get an estimate for breaking down and hauling away the Coliseum (with Mount Davis) and Oracle Arena, because that acreage will be much more inviting to developers without that trillion tons of dead ballpark sitting on it.
To write that Tiger Woods is a pathetic has-been. What he seems to lack is motivation, so if enough of us give up on him, he will be inspired to win all four majors just to show us, which would be a fun story.
To finally admit, prodded by the story of Serena Williams’ comeback season, that women bounce back from childbirth a lot quicker and more courageously than men do. To help the NFL find a replacement for the Pro Bowl, the game itself. Something that is violent, yet not harmful to the already beat-up players. Maybe a destruction derby, where each player drives a junk car and everyone rams away until only one car remains drivable.
To keep an eye on the Clippers once Kevin Durant becomes a free agent. If anyone can sweettalk KD away from the Warriors, it will be Jerry West, who was the cleanup hitter when the Warriors courted and won Durant two years ago.
To not read Bud Selig’s upcoming autobiography. Not sure what the title is, it might be “Runaway Glacier.” Maybe I will sneak a peek at the chapter where Selig regales us with how he sold Oakland down the river to his old frat buddy Lew Wolff, guaranteeing Lew a tidy profit and A’s fans a decade (and counting) of mistreatment and misery.
To pitch Hollywood on my idea for an NBA reality soap opera. The NBA has the best drama. Baseball? Forget it, the sexiest topic in MLB is whether to ban the shift. Football? They tamp down the interesting stuff (see: Colin Kaepernick, Eric Reid, Washington’s D.J. Swearinger). My soap will feature Draymond and KD, Russell Westbrook, the Ball family, LeBron James, James Harden, and the entire Knicks front office.
To convince the Warriors to play one damn game wearing jerseys that say “OAKLAND.” Not “TOWN” or “CITY” or “LAND OF MUCH OAKAGE.” Just “OAKLAND.” Would the franchise explode?
To come up with a way to fill all those empty near-the-court seats at Warriors games, and those prime behind-the-plate Giants seats, too. Those elite fans arrive late, skip the third quarter, and leave early or just stay home because they’re already bored with the most exciting team on the planet. I bet I could find a lot of kids who would love to sit in those seats, even for 10 minutes.
To convince the NBA to drop all its no-tampering rules. Open season. Why all the secrecy and sneakiness? If LeBron wants to present Durant a dozen roses at tip-off, party on.
To invent a ballpark food. Perhaps something inspired by the turducken concept. Like, a churro inserted into a hot dog, inner-tube style, and the hot dog wrapped in a pizza. Churdogza. With a jalapeño hot-fudge ranch dip.
To find a way to spice up the NBA’s pregame introductions. Maybe shoot the players out of a cannon and through a large hoop at the other end of the court.
To buy myself a pair of $300 sneakers. Because what if it is the shoes? It would be cool to dunk again.
To keep the Drivel Machine humming along clunkily for yet another year.