Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! I want to declare a war.

I am going to lose a lot of readers with the very first topic: sports. But stay tuned, more mind poo to come immediately after!

Holy crap, can anyone hate on the Jazz right now? Well, I can. Honestly, Memo, do you think that because everyone else is contributing that you can just coast? I understood how you lost your rhythm earlier in the season, but now? You are just passing up shots. Makeable shots. Besides this blight, the Jazz are really clicking. Passes are crisp, shots are taken at the right times, and my boys are having fun. Want proof of all this? See the opening quarter of the Portland game. Can you say, 21-2 start? I can, and it was awesome. So, Memo, let's pick up the slack and make it a 31-2 run next time (Mr. I-only-took-three-shots-the-last-game).

Okay, sports is over. At least professionally. More on that later, because for now, we're going baby talk. I don't know what I was before I was a dad, but it had to be incredibly lame. I'm constantly reminded how lucky I am to see a little face covered with prunes, fly away hairs after a morning bath, and the cutest display of squashing knuckles into tired eyes. What isn't to love about my little Olivia? Well, the fact that she's got me up three times or more the last few nights brinks on disdain, but that little girl is just getting so much leg power that she scoots herself into a dang corner! She gets her head stuck and can't move so I understand why she cries at 1 AM, and 3 AM, and 5 AM, I just don't like it.

Back to sports. I love playing ball with the brothers. We've been wanting to play in a league for over a year, but we've finally done it. The All-Star list follows:
Brother Cesar Garcia, a man who is not afraid to take the shot (which we sorely need). He gives us a solid rebounding presence and looks so good in that headband. He also fills our affirmative action policy.
Brother Nate Ross, a man who has his hands in the other team's business at all times. He probably leads our team in deflections and gets in some sweet assists. (I was on the happy end of one of his glorious passes.)
Brother Travis Betenson, a man that has lovely defensive timing. He gets blocks like a madman, even if the ref sees it differently. He is one of our top rebounders and has made a three. That's right, a three.
Brother Matt Naegle, a man who is more like a beast. He is our top big man (our only big man) and bangs around with the best of them. Matt's not afraid to take it in the paint, leading our team in a win two weeks ago with eleven points and some sweet defense.
Future Brother Caleb Mbengalfar, a man who isn't afraid to make contact and draw a foul. I don't know his last name, so that's why he's African today. He's made some clutch freethrows for us and is a spark of energy when we're getting down on ourselves.
Cousin Bart Gadbury, a man whose name is synonymous with the word "catalyst." The boy can straight up play. He is fourth in the league with points and tied for second with three pointers made. He runs us as if he were D'Antoni.
Friend Bill Okaduador, a man that does the intangibles. He blocks, rebounds, and passes like a wizard. Problem, I've seen the boy shoot in shoot around and he needs to do some in the actual game. (He's also African because I don't know his last name.)

Then there's me. How can't I be excited in playing with these guys? We're smaller than every team in the league, but we've got some dang heart. We've really started clicking of late and, after starting 0-2, have moved to 2-2. And, with three games left, we find ourselves facing a team that is undefeated and two teams that are the equivalent of this year's New Jersey Nets. (Although I hear they got a win last night... Idiots.) Regardless, we're having fun. (And since my wife would be mad if I didn't mention it, allow me to toot my own horn: we won the last game on my free throws. This was about all I made, as I missed every jump shot during the game.)