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2006.12.01
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2004.12.01
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2004.08.01
2004.07.11
2004.07.01
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Friday, January 20, 2006
Comiskey (1992-2006)
My baby's gone.
Nothing I can write here can adequately express the depth of loss that I feel, but I have to try.
On a late summer afternoon in 1992 I went to the Humane Society and became a parent. With so many cats and kittens there,
it was impossible for me to choose. Fortunately, a four-month-old kitten chose me. I'll never forget the moment when, as I
sat in a room full of cats, I realized someone was chewing on the checkbook sticking out of my back pocket. At that instant,
my life changed forever.
Riding home in the car, the Twins game was on the radio. I had a vague notion that I wanted a sports-related name, but
nothing sprang to mind. Then I realized that while she was mostly black and various shades of brown, all of her feet were
purest white. White "sox", if you will, and the name Comiskey was born.
Her first few weeks were spent climbing: furniture, drapes, lampshades. After she was declawed (front claws only) the
climbing stopped, but her sense of curiousity never did. Over the years I never ceased to be amazed at the kinds of things
in which she would find fascination and joy. She taught me that you don't need money or power to be happy, just the occasional
Q-tip.
In our years together I have flown in airplanes in the middle of violent thunderstorms, come remarkably close to setting
my apartment on fire, and appeared on television in front of millions of people. On only three occasions, however, did I experience
true fear.
The first time was in the summer of 1994. I was going away for a weekend trip, and mom was babysitting for me. Well,
I dropped Comiskey off and, after awhile, I went to say goodbye as I headed out. She was nowhere to be found. Now, my mom
has a big old house full of lots of nooks and crannies, but she wasn't in any of them. I got into my head that she must have
gone outside. Panic overtook me at the thought of my baby, a strictly indoor cat, alone on the streets of a strange neighborhood.
I ran up and down the streets searching in vain. We eventually found her, of course. She had found a hole in a lining and
was camped out inside of a box spring in the downstairs bedroom. Only my sneaky little girl would think of such a
place.
The second time I knew fear was in 1999. I came home from school to discover my front door standing open, having been
kicked in. In that moment of shocked realization I had only one thought: find the cat. I didn't think about calling the police
or seeing how much of my stuff was gone or even whether the bastards might still be in the place. I just needed to know my
baby was all right.I did find her, and she was ok. Then the police came and we took stock and of course she doesn't like strangers
and of course the damn door was still hanging open. So I got to panic all over again as I searched the house, then
the surrounding neighborhood. Finally I found her in a hiding place I hadn't known about, at the back of a shelf in the laundry
closet. She was just as scared as I was, and we held each other for a good long while until the fear went away.
The last time fear took me was barely three weeks ago, at the vet's office. Comiskey had been feeling unwell for some
time, first vomiting and then just behaving strangely. The initial diagnosis, after blood work had ruled out liver or kidney
problems, was that something was blocking her digestive tract. The vet thought it might be just a hard stool that had somehow
gotten stuck; my sneaking suspicion was that she had swallowed something. Well, they gave her an enema and flushed her out,
but it was clear she was not back to normal. On December 28, we went back to the vet for a recheck and consultation with the
senior doctor. His conclusion: a tumor, with surgery recommended for the next day.
During the course of her illness up to that point, I never had the sense that it was that serious. Just something she
ate, or a change in body chemistry as might be expected in a somewhat older cat. But as I left the vet that day I heard the
words pounding in my head: my baby could die. And nothing, nothing, has ever frightened me so.
After she came home after surgery, our time was filled with desperate attempts to bring her back to health. I knew that
we were fighting a losing battle, but I just could not give up on someone who had given me so much. It was a cruel roller-coaster
ride, with each new treatment bringing slight improvement and a hope for the future. A day or two of "better" would be followed
by another spell of not very good at all. Many tears were shed.
Last night, this thing which scared me more than anything, this thing that I never thought would happen, happened. I
am grateful, to whoever decides how these things go, that she went peacefully, at home and in my arms. I'm very thankful that
she went on her own time, so that I did not have to choose the time for her. I don't know if I could have done that. I'm also
grateful that this period of suffering, both hers and mine, was relatively short. From the time she first started showing
symptoms until her final breath last night was only two months. I'm sorry you had to suffer so much, baby, but I'm glad you're
in a better place and your pain is gone.
My pain, of course, continues. These next few days and weeks will not be at all pleasant, but somehow I'll get through
them. Most of the inner strength and peace that I have comes from Comiskey, and I hope that, wherever she is, she understands
why I am still relying on her so very much.
Goodbye, my sweet baby girl. You will be missed, and never forgotten. Thank you for teaching me how to love. You will
always be my baby, my little leopard, my foo. When the time comes for me to join you, my path will be that much easier for
knowing that you are there waiting for me.
Let me now say a few words about what surely must be the ugliest word in the English language: cancer. Some years ago
my uncle was stricken, and I listened as my mom and her sister described the horrible changes taking place inside his body.
On our last visit before his death, I declined the opportunity to see him in person. I had been told how the weight loss and
everything had made him almost unrecognizable. I preferred not to see him like that, and rather I clung to the memory of his
old, vibrant self. So while I had been told about what the disease had done to him, I did not see it for myself. I did not
truly understand.
Some years later my cousin was stricken. Again, I did not see first hand what the disease did to her. I did get to see
the effect it had on her mother, my aunt and godmother. The grief of a parent upon losing a child is one of the most powerful
emotions any of us will ever encounter. I saw what it did to my aunt, how it seemed that some of her own very life essence
had died along with her daughter, and I thought I knew what she felt. I thought I knew, but I did not truly understand.
Well, I understand now. Watching the one you love the most be taken by this vicious killer is the most cruel and horrific
ordeal I can imagine. It isn't just that your loved one, be they loving husband and father, first-born child, or cherished
cat, passes away. It's not even the fact that they die slowly, in great pain, as the disease takes over their body and turns
them into something unrecognizable. (Comiskey's normal weight was about 7 or 7.5 lbs. When we weighed her last week at the
vet, she was about 4.4 lbs, and she lost still more weight during that final week.) Nor is it the fact that you must
watch this process happen, so that their physical suffering is transferred to their loved ones in the form of emotional anguish.
No, the worst part about it is that there's not a damn thing you can do about it. You can't prevent
it, you can't cure it, all you can do is watch as the capricious hand of fate picks out its next victim.
I know there are lots of diseases out there. If I somehow got to be the guy who decides where all the medical research
money goes, I know where it would all be going. That's right, the big C. This time, it's personal.
I'm sorry if reading this has ruined anyone's day. Writing it has been very helpful to me, and I may have more thoughts
and remembrances of Comiskey in the days to come. I miss you terribly, baby.
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Tuesday, January 10, 2006
NFL Thoughts
OK, so Sunday afternoon I spent some time watching the Steelers and Bengals on CBS. I popped out to pick up some dinner
at some point and so I got to listen to the radio call as well. This experience sparked several thoughts.
Can we all agree that Jim Nantz is the most overrated, overexposed, overutilized, overeverything in the history of broadcasting?
Honestly, what blackmail material does this guy have on the suits at Viacom? If it were just NFL play-by-play, it wouldn't
be so bad, because during the regular season I'm usually watching the FOX game. But in the playoffs, when only one game is
on at a time, we're stuck with him. Soon we will be stuck with him for NCAA basketball, then the Masters. If CBS ever gets
MLB back I may have to assassinate him.
Seriously, the guy is just a lousy play-by-play man. It's amazing he's able to talk at all, what with his tongue always
being up the ass of Phil Simms or Billy Packer or whatever player he's decided to drone endlessly on and on about. He certainly
gets the most high-profile work, relative to his ability, of just about any broadcaster I can think of. Ever.
This was all driven home for me as I was, well, driving home, listening to Joel Myers and Bob Trumpy on Westwood One.
Myers is a solid professional, a real broadcaster's broadcaster. I like Trumpy as an analyst a lot. He used to be on the #1
or #2 team for NBC back when they had the games on TV; I don't know why FOX or CBS never picked him up. What a better place
the world would be if we had these guys on TV instead of Nantz and Simms.
They also brought up a point during their broadcast. The Steelers are making their 22nd post-merger playoff appearance.
That ties them for second most with our own Vikings. The leaders (the Cowboys of course) have 23.
This got me thinking about coaching continuity. The Steelers are on their second post-merger head coach, the Vikes just
hired their 6th, and I think the Cowboys are on their 6th. I think (and I'm doing this from memory) that the only other team
with anywhere close to this stability is the Dolphins, who are on their 4th (non-interim) coach. Not coincidentally, they
are also high up on that playoff appearances list, with 21 (ok, I did look that up).
Obviously there is not a pure causal relationship going on here. Coaching stability doesn't cause frequent playoff runs,
or vice versa. Coaches who make the playoffs frequently tend not to get fired. Both effects are symptoms of some deeper organizational
success. Still, this is something for trigger-happy organizations like the Lions and Cardinals to think about.
Speaking of the Vikings' coaching situation, I'm OK with the Childress hire. I'd rather he didn't have such Bucky roots,
and when I think of Darrell Bevell being in charge of anything I might want to root for I have a visceral reaction, but beyond
that, it looks like a good fit. He said all the right things at his press conference, so, so far so good.
One thing that he doesn't bring that I wish he did is previous NFL head coaching experience. Granted, there are currently
a dearth of people with that kind of background out there, and I'm not sure you'd want any of them (Chan Gailey?, Marty Mornihnweg?
[however you spell that], Dave Wannstedt?) anyway. In fact, Childress has never been a head coach at any level. Oh well, you
can't have everything. It got me to thinking when the last time the Vikings hired a coach with NFL head coaching experience
was.
How does never grab you? Van Brocklin had never been a coach, even an assistant (!), at any level. Grant had CFL experience
only. Steckel had only been an assistant, Burns and Green were longtime NFL assistants and former college head coaches. Tice,
of course, had only worked as an NFL assistant. This all just struck me as odd.
Speaking of Tice, if he doesn't get the Jets job I think he'd be a great college head coach. He's not a particularly
innovative X-and-O's guy, like most NFL teams seem to want in their coordinators. His strengths are in teaching fundamentals
and building team unity, which would be my qualifications #1 and 2 if I were hiring a college head coach.
I haven't seen the lines yet, but my gut tells me that all 4 home teams are going to win this weekend. I would expect
the Seabags and Colts to cover, easily, while the Bears and Broncos will win small.
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Tuesday, January 3, 2006
New Year
Well, happy 2006 to everyone.
With one exception, this December was much like every other December. I had a relatively nice Christmas weekend, I aged
another year, and we had a nice trip to Nashville.
A couple of thoughts on the trip: travel-wise, it was about as good as it gets. All flights were on time or early, of
all things, with no turbulence to speak of, and we had bulkhead or exit row seats on three of the four legs. Quick and easy
car rental process, and a decent vehicle (a Hyundai of all things) to tool around in. Very nice hotel in a high-end suburban
area. Excellent dining, including two Waffle House breakfasts, Corky's Ribs, and, on my birthday, a slice of cake as big as
my head. It would have been the perfect trip, except for the game.
Oh yes, the game. Overall a disappointing performance. The offense put up nearly 500 yards and 31 points, but there was
a sense of missed opportunities. Several runs were this close from breaking all the way. UVa was really stacking
against the run, putting 8 and 9 men in the box, and it's a tribute to our unit that we were able to run somewhat successfully,
if not consistently, against this. Against such schemes you must make some plays in the passing game, which we certainly did
with 4 TD passes. It just seemed like, in the 2nd half, we played too conservative and went away from the passing that had
worked earlier. We scored 31 but it could have easily been 51.
The defense was another story. Highly disappointing. On the first play we blitzed off the corner, which we rarely do,
and I was encouraged that we might have some kind of innovative, aggressive gameplan in place. In deference to their WRs,
however, we soon descended into our base zone package. It looked as if we were rolling the safeties wide to protect against
the WRs, and their TEs just gashed us up the middle all day. We needed to either (a) get a pash rush from somewhere, (b) get
physical with their TEs with our LBs as they came of the line, or (c) rotate the safeties back to the middle. We did none
of these things, and they just kept going back to the well.
There were some good signs on defense. Desi Steib was forced into the lineup in the first half when Banks got dinged,
and he played very well, making a couple of nice hits on running plays. Maybe he's the answer at SS next year, although CB
depth is still a concern. The defense against the run was generally good, although the ease with which Lundy scored his TDs
was disappointing.
Overall, it looked like we played and coached not to lose, rather than to win, on both sides of the ball.(Fake punt from
your own 15 notwithstanding). I think we had a right to expect better.
One other area where I expected better was the officiating. Simply horrific. Most notable was a phantom interference
call on Dom Jones that turned a FG attempt into a TD run. Also missed was a blatant offensive interference call in the end
zone. There were a number of missed holding calls, and the game management was generally poor. This is not why we lost, but
you'd think you could get the better crews for these bowl games.
All of the above, however, is completely irrelevant to me right now. For the past week, including my birthday, I have
been living in my own personal hell. To be brief, my cat Comiskey, who has been the light of my life and the main source of
joy in my world for over 13 years, is dying. She underwent surgery last Wednesday that discovered two significant tumors,
one of which was removed. The other, larger one, was not operable and will likely take her from me in a matter of weeks or
months. I will explore all available options, including chemotherapy (I didn't know they even did that for cats) but I have
no unrealistic hopes for recovery.
Thank you for keeping her in your prayers. We need all the help we can get.
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