Damn You Dayton Moore!

I'm going to step away from the football buildup and the social commentary to talk about something many of you don't' care about. Then again, when the World Herald kills several thousand trees to give you in-depth analysis of the legacy of "Dingerville" as well as the 5 high-school kids who smear College World Series baseballs with mud...perhaps you do care about what I'm about to throw at you. If you don't care...then piss off and check back in a couple of days. It's June, and you people bitch about too much Husker coverage..so I'm going to go in a different direction.

As I've stated a couple of times in the past, I've been given the lifetime curse from God of being a Kansas City Royals fan. Being from Kansas City and growing up in the 70's and 80's in the city of fountains, it was hard being a straight American-born male in that town and NOT follow the every move of George Brett, Amos Otis, John Mayberry and Willie Wilson. Royals Stadium was a cathedral to which there was no equal. Even though I would later shag fly balls on that field later in life, just walking into the park to see the endless sea of Green was as close as a suburban kid could get at the time to heaven. I followed every game...every pitch...every movement with complete precision. I kept score as the smooth voice of Denny Mathews and Fred White described the action. Safe to say, I was a big fan.

But somewhere along the way near 1991, all of that changed. Dan Quisenberry was no longer closing games...instead some gas-can piece of crap named Jeff Montgomery was on the hill. (to this day the most overrated baseball player in the history of the game). George Brett was about to step down and some clown named Phil Hyatt was going to step into his shoes. The turf was soon gone. 90-72 seasons turned into 74-88 seasons. Denny and Fred were still there, but eventually guys named Pittsley, Granger, Rico Rossy and Mendy F'ing Lopez were taking the field where my heroes once stood.

16 years and two kids later, Denny and Fred are STILL there, yet any resemblance of a real team have been brought to Dresden-esque shambles over time. Ken Harvey takes a relay throw square in the back. Dan Reichert gives up a 502 foot bomb to a weak hitting Texas second-baseman...the past decade and a half (or more) have been one big fat giant reason not to give a flying rat's ass about the Royals or anything remotely related to the greatest sport on earth at the highest level. I mean who gives a shit about ESPN and their daily love-affair with the Yankees and Red Sox anyway?

But slowly....very very slowly with the quickness of a Mark Mangino sprint up the stairs, the Royals are showing signs of life. And quite frankly, I couldn't be more pissed.

I'm pissed, because I know what will probably happen. I will start to watch....David Glass will authorize the sale of Mark Teahen for Otis Nixon and cash..and we'll be right back to watching the ants cook on the sidewalk. Dayton Moore has done the impossible...and that is nudge my interests 1/100th of an inch in the direction of a team that actually may....possibly....could be....maybe...in a bunch of years...REMOTELY competitive.

Damn you Dayton Moore. Damn you for getting my interests perked up, just as some outside factor (or lazy-ass and greedy Wal-Mart executive/owner) yanks it all away. I don't think you'll see a whole lot of Royals commentary from me between now and mid October. However, the fact that the transformation is even worth mentioning is a feat in and of itself. No, I won't go back to the days of listening to Dennis Leonard or Larry Gura gut out another late night win in Seattle on the radio....but at least there is hope....which as we all know is the last bastion of the damned.

** Nice to see the local media hitting the crack pipe during the summer months. Driving home the other day, I heard 1620's Mike'l Severe and the World Herald's Sean Callahan talking about the best running backs in the big 12. Now, I'm not a complete homer, nor will I bang the drum that Tony Temple should be ahead of Jamaal Charles or anything crazy like that. But to automatically assume that Marlon F'ing Lucky is right at the top of that list is yet another sign of the giant gas-leak that plagues this town.

So a top 3 running back...a guy that MANY of you clowns consider the 2nd or 3rd best back in the league is acceptable rushing for a WHOPPING 36 yards per game over the last 8 games of the season? That's right...7 games...one HALF of a season...252 total yards rushing. Hell, 88 of them came in ONE game..the very last one.

Far be it for me to buy into the giant river of bullshit that cascades out of the mouths of some of you people...but this is just another example of monstrous expectations being placed on a mediocre player. Ok..so he was 2nd string...but who's to say his body can even hold up to 25-30 carries per game? Do you people even think of this stuff? I already know the answer, because I know you just knee-jerk whatever is programmed into your brain...just like you'll tell me how Terrance Nunn is one of the league's best receivers (I've actually heard that) when he pulled in a WHOPPING 42 catches and 3 TD's.

WOW, if I close my eyes and squint real hard..he almost looks like Jerry Rice out there.

You people just keep lobbing those down the middle, and I'll keep knocking them out as the summer goes on.

Marlon Lucky? Riiiiiiiiiggghhht.