Like an angry dog, a volcano growls before it bites, shaking the ground and getting noisy before erupting. After seven months of stewing on "the run", with no mini-camps, no OTA's to vent, Saints defensive coordinator Greg Williams finally gets go Mt St. Helens on his players. Though his full squad wont be available until August 4, the local media have witnessed the noise makin' ground skakin' signs already. Scolding any defensive player in sight, rookie or vet. Putting them through up/down drills until they drop.
Like a volcano, if you are in its path when it erupts, you're doomed. Saturday, it was the media in the path of the hot gas and debris. In defense of freshly signed strong safety Roman Harper, Williams blasted the media for criticizing Harper for the three blown coverages which lead to three Seattle touchdowns in the Saints playoff loss. "You don't know ball if you criticize him for that game, he made two mistakes that game , two mistakes, I can say that about 99% of the players. he is a young player, getting better. A two time pro bowler. I'm a better coach with him on my team."
Now you, I and Williams knows that is pure BS. But he says it knowing he won't dare be challenged on it. I don't know if some in the local media are intimidated by him, a fan of him or they just had deadlines to meet, but they stood there and took that scolding like kids from the schoolyard bully. No follow up, no challenges.
Coach, how big were those two mistakes?
Coach, what caused those two mistakes, bad coaching or bad technique?
Educate our lack of ball knowledge, coach.
Just two mistakes, coach?! That's one more than Lincoln's body guard!
Clearly Williams is projecting his feelings about Harper. He knows Harper is a weakness in pass coverage. But in the us against them world of coach to media, he cannot and will not say it publicly.
But I can.
While good in run support and blitzing, Harper is weak in man to man coverage. While most teams use the strong safety to cover the tight end, the Saints use a linebacker. In cover two, he lacks the ability to locate the ball and adjust. In short, the further from the line of scrimmage, the less affective he is. Is he a quality NFL strong safety,yes, but when I think strong safety, Troy Polamalu or Bob Sanders comes to mind. A sixth year player in the NFL is not young. If that player hasn't improved his weaknesses and honed his positives by now, he most likely won't. In 2010 Harper appeared in the Pro Bowl as an alternate. He was selected as a back up for the 2011 game. This indicates an upward trend. We'll see. But for now all we have are visions of number 41 chasing air as Sealttle receivers celebrate in the end zone. He also had the last chance to make a stop on that infamous run that sticks in the craw of Williams and the Saints Nation, but whiffed.
Williams knows that if the Saints are going to make another Super Bowl run, his defense will be the deciding factor. He also knows his defense improved statistaclly in 2010 but came up short in the vital catagory of forcing turnovers. His defense's last performance left him wanting. That run has been on his mind and in his belly the entire off-season. Mt Williams is due to erupt August 4. Someone get a seimometer.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xoNA61R0MyI&feature=player_detailpage
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Stay Reggie Stay
The lockout is over!
The NFL is back in business!
Free agency has begun.
That's right Saints fans. Now that the season is upon us, its time for the yearly tap dance of signing players cutting players and salary cap wizardry. The only thing certain is at least one of your favorite players will be donning the uniform of the enemy come kickoff. The uncertainty is who.
Lance Moore. Scott Shanle. Darren Shaper. Roman Harper.
Bush, Bushrod, Nicks or Stinchcomb.
I know this.
I would like to see the Saints keep Nicks, Moore, Sharper and Bush.
Thats right, I said it.
Reggie Bush. But more on him later.
Carl Nicks has been a starter at left gaurd since day one. He is widely considered among the best in the NFL Together with Jhari Evans, the Saints boast the best pair of road grinders in the league. Must must sign.
Darren Sharper is a hall of fame safety in the twilight of his career. His 2009 season was the best I've seen from a Saints DB. His presence enhanced credibility and elevated the play of the secondary as a whole. It also led to the emergance of Roman Harper as a blitzing, run enforcing safety.
His 2010 season not so much. Plagued with nagging injuries, Sharper would love to take a mulligan. I think he has one more year of magic in him. Make a spot for him.
Lance Moore needs to get paid. Period. His performance speaks for itself. Since 2008 when he lead the team in catches, he has become Drew Brees' most consistent and trusted receiver. He compares favorably to Wes Welker of the NE Patriots. I think he's better. See the special man, Lance.
Now we come to Reggie. Look, if I try to win this on Bush living up to his second pick of the draft status, I'll lose ten out of ten times. He has been an inigma. Inconsistent. Turnover and injury prone. He's also been the most exciting, electric, and sensational player in a Saints uniform since, well I can't remember. The anticipation in that dome when he drops back for a punt or gets a swing pass from Brees is palpable. Thats because he was and still is the only homerun threat the Saints have. His influence on opposing defenses opens up the rest of the offense. For that I say you have to keep him. He knows he'll never see the $11 million due him on his contract. Not from the Saints or anyone else. Mickey Loomis should sit him down, release him then hand him a contract offer of three years $12 millon including an $8 million signing bonus pro-rated over two years. In essence, spread that $11 million over three years and add $1 million.
As for the other free agents, like I said. Some fan favorites will be Jake Sully, a different color and waging war against us. But that's life in todays NFL.
Let the games begin!
The NFL is back in business!
Free agency has begun.
That's right Saints fans. Now that the season is upon us, its time for the yearly tap dance of signing players cutting players and salary cap wizardry. The only thing certain is at least one of your favorite players will be donning the uniform of the enemy come kickoff. The uncertainty is who.
Lance Moore. Scott Shanle. Darren Shaper. Roman Harper.
Bush, Bushrod, Nicks or Stinchcomb.
I know this.
I would like to see the Saints keep Nicks, Moore, Sharper and Bush.
Thats right, I said it.
Reggie Bush. But more on him later.
Carl Nicks has been a starter at left gaurd since day one. He is widely considered among the best in the NFL Together with Jhari Evans, the Saints boast the best pair of road grinders in the league. Must must sign.
Darren Sharper is a hall of fame safety in the twilight of his career. His 2009 season was the best I've seen from a Saints DB. His presence enhanced credibility and elevated the play of the secondary as a whole. It also led to the emergance of Roman Harper as a blitzing, run enforcing safety.
His 2010 season not so much. Plagued with nagging injuries, Sharper would love to take a mulligan. I think he has one more year of magic in him. Make a spot for him.
Lance Moore needs to get paid. Period. His performance speaks for itself. Since 2008 when he lead the team in catches, he has become Drew Brees' most consistent and trusted receiver. He compares favorably to Wes Welker of the NE Patriots. I think he's better. See the special man, Lance.
Now we come to Reggie. Look, if I try to win this on Bush living up to his second pick of the draft status, I'll lose ten out of ten times. He has been an inigma. Inconsistent. Turnover and injury prone. He's also been the most exciting, electric, and sensational player in a Saints uniform since, well I can't remember. The anticipation in that dome when he drops back for a punt or gets a swing pass from Brees is palpable. Thats because he was and still is the only homerun threat the Saints have. His influence on opposing defenses opens up the rest of the offense. For that I say you have to keep him. He knows he'll never see the $11 million due him on his contract. Not from the Saints or anyone else. Mickey Loomis should sit him down, release him then hand him a contract offer of three years $12 millon including an $8 million signing bonus pro-rated over two years. In essence, spread that $11 million over three years and add $1 million.
As for the other free agents, like I said. Some fan favorites will be Jake Sully, a different color and waging war against us. But that's life in todays NFL.
Let the games begin!
Monday, July 11, 2011
Five Days in the Bay
Day 2: Alcatraz!
It's 4:30am and I'm wide awake.
My bucket list shrinks by one today.
When I was a child and first learned of a prison on an island once considered to be so tightly guarded, secure, and inesacpable only the most hardened and violent criminals got in, I wanted to see it.
Today is the day.
Our tour begins at 3:20 pm but we should be there about an hour before so we need to get moving. Our plan is a late breakfast then walk to Pier 39 to check the sights. Head to Pier 33 by 2:30ish for the 3:20 Alcatraz ferry.
Breakfast.
Last night the wife read about a nice little breakfast cottage located just blocks from the Pier. Mama's on Washington Square. A spot made famous by Food Netwok star Rachel Ray who visited there sometime ago for a feature on her "$40 a day show". Well if it's good enough for Rach then it's good enough for me.
Off we walk. Down Stockton street, seventeen blocks, uuupppppp, dooowwwwnnnnn from Union Square through Chinatown, to Little Italy then finally Mama's. We knew it was Mama's because of the line wrapped from the front door left to the corner then up the street about a half block. We decide there's enough time to stick it out and wait. Twenty-five minutes and my feet haven't budged. I think I'll check out some online reviews. Google reveals three. None good. the harshest read something like this. "...it's just pancakes, people!"
That's all we needed to see. Time for an audible. We step off line line toward the pier. On the way a local kindly offers directions then confirms our move to abandon Mamma's.
The sound of seals barking, the smell of saltwater and the sight of trolly cars from yesteryear tells us we're at Pier 39. Its nice but all tourist. Think of Jax Brewery on pilings. This worrys me because being from New Orleans, I understand no good food ever comes from a touristy joint. I was right. Breakfast at The Eagle was just ok but hey it's breakfast. Eggs, bacon and french toast, we should have hit IHOP. One thing about San Fran though, they have good coffee.
After breakfast we walk the pier. It's all very nice but mostly shops. Candles, soaps, bath salts and souveniers. It's cold on the pier. Feels like a rainy January day in NOLA. The kind where you just can't get comfortable. Wifey's feet are numbing, but she must not be alone becaust the busiest shop on the pier is The San Francisco Sock Market. Handled.
But the best thing about Pier 39 is Trish's Mini Donut Stand. Like most culinary treasures, we found this accidently, making a quit stop for hot chocolate on the way out. Out of the corner of my eye while ordering the hot cocoa for two I notice the EZ Bake oven sized Krispy Kreme type donut maker frying up these mini drops of heaven. From the fryer they are dumped into dune of cinnamon sugar, coated then served in all of their steamy airy fluffy sweet goodness. OMG!!! Against the bosses protests that these are unhealthy, I order a bag of eight. (Hey at least I didn't get the buket of 50). The prosester? She ate four!
Finally it's time to head to Pier 33. Alcatraz! My mind has been on this tour since we booked the trip. We board the Alcatraz ferry then float toward the island. About fifteen minutes and we're greated by the sight of gloomy greys of worn down prison walls and pleasing pinks and purples of the flowers that have bloomed since the prison closed. As we step off the boat an eerie feeling comes over us. There is a paplable presence in the air. The boat captain earlier annouced that we must hear a brief instructional talk from one of the park rangers then we are on our own. The ranger intructs us on the areas that are roped off due to dangerous deterioration. He then warns if anyone has a heart or lung condition to take special care as the ascent to the prison is equal to scaling a ten story building. If needed there's a train that will carry you up then bring you down. Screw that. We're walking.
Climbing the road to the prison offers an incredicle view of the city, ocean and all those colors. Seagulls are everywhere as the island is now a bird sanctuary. A compound of a variety of buildings including an apartment house for the guards and their families, a quartermaster, supply house and even a morgue share the landscape.
As you enter the prison you know your are in a different world. The hall leads you into the showers. Not going there. A line forms as you leave the shower room . This is where you get your audio tour guide. At first we were reluctant to wear them but we were glad we did . The tour is phenomenal. It directs you to landmarks then explains points of history associated with the landmark. "This is where the guards were overtaken." "Around the corner is C-D (seedy) Street." "Walk down the hall, turn right, pass through the cell doors and look to your left." More precise then the finest GPS.
The tour proceeds, the attempted uprising, the escape, isolation and the dining hall, affectionately known as the gas chamber. Al Capone, Machine Gun Kelly, the Birdman. My kinda place. Never once was I bored or disappointed. The best tour I've ever been on.
The ferry lands back at Pier 33 then we're headed back to the hotel. The trollys are all overflowing and not even stopping so we decide to walk back. My feet are in revolt! They refuse to walk one step further. Fortunately we spot an off duty limo driver offering rides back to Market Square for $3. We're in. Another couple and two older ladys cram a black Crown Vic and we head back. Little did we know this was once a stunt driver for Starskey and Hutch. Taking corners on two wheels, cutting in and out of traffic, horns blowing, drivers cursing and high pitched screams serenade us back to the square. But hey, we made it back and alive. I'm golden.
And hungry.
Dinner at the Burger Bar. The next generation of burger joints. Upscale casual atmosphere serving angus beef from local farms, brioche buns the melt in your mouth, fresh cheeses and choices of toppings ranging from fried egg to red zinfindel onion compote. It all seems a little pretentious for a burger but I'm all in.
We grab dessert from the Cheescake factory two floors above us then call it a night. It's only been two days but feels like two weeks.
After a long day, a hotel bed never looks so inviting. The night is still early so we use the on demand button and catch the latest Paul Giamatti movie, "Win Win". Good movie. Good food . Good tour. Great day. We like this town.
Tomorrow, Sonoma!
-
It's 4:30am and I'm wide awake.
My bucket list shrinks by one today.
When I was a child and first learned of a prison on an island once considered to be so tightly guarded, secure, and inesacpable only the most hardened and violent criminals got in, I wanted to see it.
Today is the day.
Our tour begins at 3:20 pm but we should be there about an hour before so we need to get moving. Our plan is a late breakfast then walk to Pier 39 to check the sights. Head to Pier 33 by 2:30ish for the 3:20 Alcatraz ferry.
Breakfast.
Last night the wife read about a nice little breakfast cottage located just blocks from the Pier. Mama's on Washington Square. A spot made famous by Food Netwok star Rachel Ray who visited there sometime ago for a feature on her "$40 a day show". Well if it's good enough for Rach then it's good enough for me.
Off we walk. Down Stockton street, seventeen blocks, uuupppppp, dooowwwwnnnnn from Union Square through Chinatown, to Little Italy then finally Mama's. We knew it was Mama's because of the line wrapped from the front door left to the corner then up the street about a half block. We decide there's enough time to stick it out and wait. Twenty-five minutes and my feet haven't budged. I think I'll check out some online reviews. Google reveals three. None good. the harshest read something like this. "...it's just pancakes, people!"
That's all we needed to see. Time for an audible. We step off line line toward the pier. On the way a local kindly offers directions then confirms our move to abandon Mamma's.
The sound of seals barking, the smell of saltwater and the sight of trolly cars from yesteryear tells us we're at Pier 39. Its nice but all tourist. Think of Jax Brewery on pilings. This worrys me because being from New Orleans, I understand no good food ever comes from a touristy joint. I was right. Breakfast at The Eagle was just ok but hey it's breakfast. Eggs, bacon and french toast, we should have hit IHOP. One thing about San Fran though, they have good coffee.
After breakfast we walk the pier. It's all very nice but mostly shops. Candles, soaps, bath salts and souveniers. It's cold on the pier. Feels like a rainy January day in NOLA. The kind where you just can't get comfortable. Wifey's feet are numbing, but she must not be alone becaust the busiest shop on the pier is The San Francisco Sock Market. Handled.
But the best thing about Pier 39 is Trish's Mini Donut Stand. Like most culinary treasures, we found this accidently, making a quit stop for hot chocolate on the way out. Out of the corner of my eye while ordering the hot cocoa for two I notice the EZ Bake oven sized Krispy Kreme type donut maker frying up these mini drops of heaven. From the fryer they are dumped into dune of cinnamon sugar, coated then served in all of their steamy airy fluffy sweet goodness. OMG!!! Against the bosses protests that these are unhealthy, I order a bag of eight. (Hey at least I didn't get the buket of 50). The prosester? She ate four!
Finally it's time to head to Pier 33. Alcatraz! My mind has been on this tour since we booked the trip. We board the Alcatraz ferry then float toward the island. About fifteen minutes and we're greated by the sight of gloomy greys of worn down prison walls and pleasing pinks and purples of the flowers that have bloomed since the prison closed. As we step off the boat an eerie feeling comes over us. There is a paplable presence in the air. The boat captain earlier annouced that we must hear a brief instructional talk from one of the park rangers then we are on our own. The ranger intructs us on the areas that are roped off due to dangerous deterioration. He then warns if anyone has a heart or lung condition to take special care as the ascent to the prison is equal to scaling a ten story building. If needed there's a train that will carry you up then bring you down. Screw that. We're walking.
Climbing the road to the prison offers an incredicle view of the city, ocean and all those colors. Seagulls are everywhere as the island is now a bird sanctuary. A compound of a variety of buildings including an apartment house for the guards and their families, a quartermaster, supply house and even a morgue share the landscape.
As you enter the prison you know your are in a different world. The hall leads you into the showers. Not going there. A line forms as you leave the shower room . This is where you get your audio tour guide. At first we were reluctant to wear them but we were glad we did . The tour is phenomenal. It directs you to landmarks then explains points of history associated with the landmark. "This is where the guards were overtaken." "Around the corner is C-D (seedy) Street." "Walk down the hall, turn right, pass through the cell doors and look to your left." More precise then the finest GPS.
The tour proceeds, the attempted uprising, the escape, isolation and the dining hall, affectionately known as the gas chamber. Al Capone, Machine Gun Kelly, the Birdman. My kinda place. Never once was I bored or disappointed. The best tour I've ever been on.
The ferry lands back at Pier 33 then we're headed back to the hotel. The trollys are all overflowing and not even stopping so we decide to walk back. My feet are in revolt! They refuse to walk one step further. Fortunately we spot an off duty limo driver offering rides back to Market Square for $3. We're in. Another couple and two older ladys cram a black Crown Vic and we head back. Little did we know this was once a stunt driver for Starskey and Hutch. Taking corners on two wheels, cutting in and out of traffic, horns blowing, drivers cursing and high pitched screams serenade us back to the square. But hey, we made it back and alive. I'm golden.
And hungry.
Dinner at the Burger Bar. The next generation of burger joints. Upscale casual atmosphere serving angus beef from local farms, brioche buns the melt in your mouth, fresh cheeses and choices of toppings ranging from fried egg to red zinfindel onion compote. It all seems a little pretentious for a burger but I'm all in.
We grab dessert from the Cheescake factory two floors above us then call it a night. It's only been two days but feels like two weeks.
After a long day, a hotel bed never looks so inviting. The night is still early so we use the on demand button and catch the latest Paul Giamatti movie, "Win Win". Good movie. Good food . Good tour. Great day. We like this town.
Tomorrow, Sonoma!
-
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Five days in the Bay
Day One: Thursday
After touchdown in San Francisco at 8:53am, we find baggage claim, make a Starbuck's stop then board a shared shuttle to the Westin Market Street, thirty-five floors of steel, concrete and huge glass windows with a panoramic view of the city from every room. We're too early for check-in so we leave our bags with the bell hop, consult the concierge for landmarks and off we go.
We don't get very far before we realize it's 10:30am, misty and cool. Fifty-four degrees cool. Earlier, as we pulled into the hotel I noticed California Pizza Kitchen directly across the street. So cold and hungry, we decided to make that our first stop.
California Pizza Kitchen. The place that started the whole wood burning oven upscale gourmet pizza fad. It also, I have on first hand authority, is the inspiration for the Louisiana Pizza Kitchen chain here in New Orleans. It's true. In 1987, Michel Fredj, founder of Louisiana Pizza Kitchen, came back to his Cafe Bastille Bistro on Esplanade after a trip to California and proclaimed to a linen deliveryman. "Dats eet! No moar Bi'stro! Zee money, is too much! From now on, pies!" (Michel is french) Thus Louisiana Pizza Kitchen was born.
Meanwhile, our waiter/ poet filled us in on the wheres and where nots of the city as white corn guacamole (as good as it sounds), korean bbq tacos(just ok), spicey thai quesadilla(excellent) and a margharita pizza flowed past our tongues and warmed our souls. We like this town. So far so good.
It didn't take long for the wifey to realize that walking the ultra steep and windy streets of San Fran in three inch platform wedges gets old in a hurry. Alas, Macy's Union Square!
Ahh Macy's, an eight floor oasis of womens clothes, accessories, cosmetics and...
Shoes! Shoes!
Second floor. The whole second floor! A full city block sized sea of slingbacks, ballet flats, peep toes, and closed toes!
Guys, this is like us walking into Hooter's on calendergirl day.
A woman's feet saved and still hours away from check-in, the wife and I hit the streets again and head toward Chinatown. I couldn't wait to get there to sample some authentic chinese food. So we walked through the Stockton tunnel following the sights, sounds and smells. As we get closer, it's as if 2011 rolled back to the 1940's. Big box retailors diappeared into sidewalk specailty markets with folding storefront tables.
Simplicit brilliance.
If you want fresh fish, you go to the fresh fish market.
Veggies? Next door, at the veggie store.
Same with fruit, can goods, groceries,etc. These tables are fully stocked with anything and everything chinese. And the smells! Approaching Chinatown you're hit with the smell of citrus. Further in, onions, chinese cucumber, and mounds of greens. But the Chanel #5 of C-town is when your olfactory senses are hit like a Bruce Lee kick of funkage to the nose. The dried fish market. Bus pans crowned with dried shrimp, fish eyes, minnows and any fish unlucky enough to be caught in last week's nets line the tables side by side. The craving for authentic Chinese quickly disappears. But souvenoir shops, clothing stores, tea bars, hair salons and Chinatown's charm comforts you into wanting to hang around. It's that comfort that comes upon you as your quick pace turns to stroll and you take it all in.
Nice.
We're hungry again and getting a little tired, so we head back to the hotel to check in. That, we quickly learn is the beauty of San Fran. Everything is desirable, doable and walkable.
After settling in, we head back out for dinner. We noticed Sears Fine Foods close by, so in we went. This place was 1940. Opened in 1938, Sears is a local legend. The menu reads like mom's house on Thanksgiving. Turkey breast, cornbread dressing, garlic mashed, hericot verts and homemade cranberry sauce is tonight's special. "One please", says the Mrs. I go for the roasted chicken with roasted yukon gold potatoes and glazed parsnips and carrots. YUM! Damn YUM! Dessert was apple dumpling ala mode with caramel sauce for me and strawberry shortcake for the boss. See we have this thing where we share a salad but we get our own desserts. That's how we roll.
Tummies full, legs spent and on a marathoner's high, this long but eventfull day comes to a close. We head back to the hotel. We need our rest. Tomorrow is Alcatraz!
I like this town.
After touchdown in San Francisco at 8:53am, we find baggage claim, make a Starbuck's stop then board a shared shuttle to the Westin Market Street, thirty-five floors of steel, concrete and huge glass windows with a panoramic view of the city from every room. We're too early for check-in so we leave our bags with the bell hop, consult the concierge for landmarks and off we go.
We don't get very far before we realize it's 10:30am, misty and cool. Fifty-four degrees cool. Earlier, as we pulled into the hotel I noticed California Pizza Kitchen directly across the street. So cold and hungry, we decided to make that our first stop.
California Pizza Kitchen. The place that started the whole wood burning oven upscale gourmet pizza fad. It also, I have on first hand authority, is the inspiration for the Louisiana Pizza Kitchen chain here in New Orleans. It's true. In 1987, Michel Fredj, founder of Louisiana Pizza Kitchen, came back to his Cafe Bastille Bistro on Esplanade after a trip to California and proclaimed to a linen deliveryman. "Dats eet! No moar Bi'stro! Zee money, is too much! From now on, pies!" (Michel is french) Thus Louisiana Pizza Kitchen was born.
Meanwhile, our waiter/ poet filled us in on the wheres and where nots of the city as white corn guacamole (as good as it sounds), korean bbq tacos(just ok), spicey thai quesadilla(excellent) and a margharita pizza flowed past our tongues and warmed our souls. We like this town. So far so good.
It didn't take long for the wifey to realize that walking the ultra steep and windy streets of San Fran in three inch platform wedges gets old in a hurry. Alas, Macy's Union Square!
Ahh Macy's, an eight floor oasis of womens clothes, accessories, cosmetics and...
Shoes! Shoes!
Second floor. The whole second floor! A full city block sized sea of slingbacks, ballet flats, peep toes, and closed toes!
Guys, this is like us walking into Hooter's on calendergirl day.
 |
| A table in Chinatown displaying their daily "catch" |
Simplicit brilliance.
If you want fresh fish, you go to the fresh fish market.
Veggies? Next door, at the veggie store.
Same with fruit, can goods, groceries,etc. These tables are fully stocked with anything and everything chinese. And the smells! Approaching Chinatown you're hit with the smell of citrus. Further in, onions, chinese cucumber, and mounds of greens. But the Chanel #5 of C-town is when your olfactory senses are hit like a Bruce Lee kick of funkage to the nose. The dried fish market. Bus pans crowned with dried shrimp, fish eyes, minnows and any fish unlucky enough to be caught in last week's nets line the tables side by side. The craving for authentic Chinese quickly disappears. But souvenoir shops, clothing stores, tea bars, hair salons and Chinatown's charm comforts you into wanting to hang around. It's that comfort that comes upon you as your quick pace turns to stroll and you take it all in.
Nice.
We're hungry again and getting a little tired, so we head back to the hotel to check in. That, we quickly learn is the beauty of San Fran. Everything is desirable, doable and walkable.
After settling in, we head back out for dinner. We noticed Sears Fine Foods close by, so in we went. This place was 1940. Opened in 1938, Sears is a local legend. The menu reads like mom's house on Thanksgiving. Turkey breast, cornbread dressing, garlic mashed, hericot verts and homemade cranberry sauce is tonight's special. "One please", says the Mrs. I go for the roasted chicken with roasted yukon gold potatoes and glazed parsnips and carrots. YUM! Damn YUM! Dessert was apple dumpling ala mode with caramel sauce for me and strawberry shortcake for the boss. See we have this thing where we share a salad but we get our own desserts. That's how we roll.
Tummies full, legs spent and on a marathoner's high, this long but eventfull day comes to a close. We head back to the hotel. We need our rest. Tomorrow is Alcatraz!
I like this town.
 |
| California Pizza Kitchen |
 |
| fruits and nuts |
 |
| veggies |
 |
| merchandise |
 |
| DRIED FISH! |
Friday, June 24, 2011
Saints Draft another super bowl
It was July, 2009 at the now closed Mike's American Grill during my weekly segment on Inside New Orleans (graciously coined "Fazende Friday" by host Eric Asher). Eric asked what I thought the Saints would do in the upcoming football season. "I've always said that all the Saints need is a good not great defense to go to the Super Bowl, that's why they brought in new defensive coordinator Greg Williams and that's what they will do, they will beat the Colts in the Super Bowl."
The above is not an attempt to gloat or pat myself on the back. It's just a little edification to justify my next line.
The Saints have drafted their way to Indianapolis in 2012.
Yes, that is how strongly I feel about the Saints 2011 draft. Granted the last time we saw the Saints they were wandering around the Seattle fog dazed by the tsnuami that just washed them out of the playoffs. The very defense that lifted our beloved Saints to the ultimate victory played their worst game of the Williams era.
Have no fear defense, help is on the way.
The draft was oviously aimed to come to the defense's rescue. From DE Cameron Jordan, possessing a combination of size and speed , considered by many scouts the best pass rushing DE in the draft to the hard hitting LB from Illinois, Martez Wilson. But the pick most likely to help Williams defense was RB Mark Ingram. Yes that Mark Ingram. The Heisman trophy winning monster truck wrapped in a 5'9" frame who tore up SEC defenses for three years. Ingram figures to be the most help to the defense by provided for them a defense's best friend. Rest. As long as Ingram is pounding out three, four and five yard runs in the fourth quarter and moving the chains, the defense can stand on the sidelines and rest and watch the clock wind down.
On offense, the benefits are obvious. With a signal calling field general the callber of Drew Brees, Ingram will have a coach on the field. Play action will open up. The WRs will have open lanes, yadda yadda yadda. You can book that opposing defensive coordinators are, as you read this, circling Saints week on their schedules for doubling up stocks of Rolaids, Pepto-Bismol and No-Doz.
Buckle your chinstraps NFL. Here comes Ingram. And there go the Saints to another Super Bowl.
The above is not an attempt to gloat or pat myself on the back. It's just a little edification to justify my next line.
The Saints have drafted their way to Indianapolis in 2012.
Yes, that is how strongly I feel about the Saints 2011 draft. Granted the last time we saw the Saints they were wandering around the Seattle fog dazed by the tsnuami that just washed them out of the playoffs. The very defense that lifted our beloved Saints to the ultimate victory played their worst game of the Williams era.
Have no fear defense, help is on the way.
The draft was oviously aimed to come to the defense's rescue. From DE Cameron Jordan, possessing a combination of size and speed , considered by many scouts the best pass rushing DE in the draft to the hard hitting LB from Illinois, Martez Wilson. But the pick most likely to help Williams defense was RB Mark Ingram. Yes that Mark Ingram. The Heisman trophy winning monster truck wrapped in a 5'9" frame who tore up SEC defenses for three years. Ingram figures to be the most help to the defense by provided for them a defense's best friend. Rest. As long as Ingram is pounding out three, four and five yard runs in the fourth quarter and moving the chains, the defense can stand on the sidelines and rest and watch the clock wind down.
On offense, the benefits are obvious. With a signal calling field general the callber of Drew Brees, Ingram will have a coach on the field. Play action will open up. The WRs will have open lanes, yadda yadda yadda. You can book that opposing defensive coordinators are, as you read this, circling Saints week on their schedules for doubling up stocks of Rolaids, Pepto-Bismol and No-Doz.
Buckle your chinstraps NFL. Here comes Ingram. And there go the Saints to another Super Bowl.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Players Show They're Out of Touch
I have heard it all.
Though I can't say I'm surprised. It was only a matter if time.
"It's modern day slavery", Vikings RB Adrian Peterson claimed in an interview with Yahoo Sports.
It has come to this. Comparing being paid millions of dollars to play a kids game with the plight of a people caught, shackled, shipped like cargo, humiliated and displayed on that original market showroom, then sold to the highest bidder to perpetual servitude.
Now THATS perspective.
It's also why professional athletes will never win the batle of public opinion when it comes to work stoppages. Be it a strike or a lockout.
Owners are already seen as old, white, stiff ,egomaniacal billionaires with little or no public sympathy to begin with. From the ever-meddling ultra gaudy, everything BIG in Texas Jerry "bling bling"Jones to the ultra frugal LA Clippers' owner Donald Sperling. The one that charges the players for athletic tape. Nobody's going Johnnie Cochran for these ole boys.
Unless.
Unless a bunch of rich, pampered, overgrown, over partied, mega adored, 'roided up frat boys who's lone skill in life is to run fast or catch good do something which they should never be allowed to do.
Talk.
Cause when they talk, they say things like "we're thoudands of miles away from our families" or "we sacrifice our bodies". Or my personal fave, "if it weren't for the players, there wouldn't be a game". Opening up themselves to the average fourth grader's retort, "if it weren't for the game there would be no players".
They use terms such as "solidarity". Conjuring up memories of Poland's Leck Welesa standing on the walls of the Gdansk Shipyard leading an anti-soviet social movement. Then take part in public signs of "solidarity" by saluting themselves with the #1 sign before kick off. You know, frat boy stuff.
Or unless.
They do something brilliant like have someone on the brink of signing an estimated 60-70 million dollar contract sue the NFL to complain about anti-trust laws. Yeah, like the NFL being a monopoly has been so financially destructive to the players. Other poor, exploited plaintiffs in the suit are 100 million dollar Peyton Mannnig and 100 million dollar Tom Brady. "Well we also represent the players who make minimun salries as well", they will say. Right, cause the minimum salary for an NFL player rising to $340k in 2011 then $355k in 2012 is such a cross to bare. Poor guys. The average professional worker in America only has to work about 5 years to make the league minimum. So the average player career of 3.2 years equals 15 of the average professional's years. And that's the minimum. You know, the 53rd man on the roster, usually the guy wearing a backward Saints cap on the sidelines. Not bad work if you can find it. Besides, the Brees's, Mannings and Bradys of the world can donate portions of their salaries to those poor players down there at the bottom of the depth chart.
Let me say up front that I am an unapolgetic Ronald Reagan conservative. I believe the biggger the company, the bigger the tax break. I've never been a fan of labor unions. I always seem to side with the people who provide the jobs as opposed to the people who take the job then complain about the way they are treated, instead of just quittng and working for someone else who would hire their sorry ass.
I've been in three unions and the only thing I could count on was dues being deducted from my paycheck, everytime, without fail. I wacthed my union president give away benefit after benefit with each passing contract then spend my dues backing a political candidate I disagree with. Cause he's a "friend of labor" From auto workers allowed to smoke pot during lunch breaks to "make work" days at a grain elevator, I think unions have collectively bargained our country to the brink of financial ruin. But I do think unions have a noble cause. Protect the "little man" from the exploiting evil corporation. However,a good labor lawyer can be just as effective as any union. Just ask Curt Flood.
What the players don't seem to realize is they don't need to collectively bargain. What can they collectively bargian for that's not already covered in their mammoth individual contracts drawn up by their uber-agents. More time off? Better hours? Dental? Please.
The owners talk about opposing the negotiated percentage of revenue sharing with the players. But if you caught one of them in a weak moment, he'd tell you they actually love it. They know exactly how much their salary expenses are for years to come. Every owner spends the same, only spreads it out differently. It's like that holy grail of union accomplishments. The minimum wage. Corporations publicly rail against it while privately loving it. They know what every other McD's, Popeye's or Burger King is paying. "You mean I only have to start you off at this low rate?"
Which brings me back to the slavery comparison. The thing that is astronomically light years from the truth is that NFL players are like slaves.
They are incredibly well compensated pawns on that 100 yard chess board.
Though I can't say I'm surprised. It was only a matter if time.
"It's modern day slavery", Vikings RB Adrian Peterson claimed in an interview with Yahoo Sports.
It has come to this. Comparing being paid millions of dollars to play a kids game with the plight of a people caught, shackled, shipped like cargo, humiliated and displayed on that original market showroom, then sold to the highest bidder to perpetual servitude.
Now THATS perspective.
It's also why professional athletes will never win the batle of public opinion when it comes to work stoppages. Be it a strike or a lockout.
Owners are already seen as old, white, stiff ,egomaniacal billionaires with little or no public sympathy to begin with. From the ever-meddling ultra gaudy, everything BIG in Texas Jerry "bling bling"Jones to the ultra frugal LA Clippers' owner Donald Sperling. The one that charges the players for athletic tape. Nobody's going Johnnie Cochran for these ole boys.
Unless.
Unless a bunch of rich, pampered, overgrown, over partied, mega adored, 'roided up frat boys who's lone skill in life is to run fast or catch good do something which they should never be allowed to do.
Talk.
Cause when they talk, they say things like "we're thoudands of miles away from our families" or "we sacrifice our bodies". Or my personal fave, "if it weren't for the players, there wouldn't be a game". Opening up themselves to the average fourth grader's retort, "if it weren't for the game there would be no players".
They use terms such as "solidarity". Conjuring up memories of Poland's Leck Welesa standing on the walls of the Gdansk Shipyard leading an anti-soviet social movement. Then take part in public signs of "solidarity" by saluting themselves with the #1 sign before kick off. You know, frat boy stuff.
Or unless.
They do something brilliant like have someone on the brink of signing an estimated 60-70 million dollar contract sue the NFL to complain about anti-trust laws. Yeah, like the NFL being a monopoly has been so financially destructive to the players. Other poor, exploited plaintiffs in the suit are 100 million dollar Peyton Mannnig and 100 million dollar Tom Brady. "Well we also represent the players who make minimun salries as well", they will say. Right, cause the minimum salary for an NFL player rising to $340k in 2011 then $355k in 2012 is such a cross to bare. Poor guys. The average professional worker in America only has to work about 5 years to make the league minimum. So the average player career of 3.2 years equals 15 of the average professional's years. And that's the minimum. You know, the 53rd man on the roster, usually the guy wearing a backward Saints cap on the sidelines. Not bad work if you can find it. Besides, the Brees's, Mannings and Bradys of the world can donate portions of their salaries to those poor players down there at the bottom of the depth chart.
Let me say up front that I am an unapolgetic Ronald Reagan conservative. I believe the biggger the company, the bigger the tax break. I've never been a fan of labor unions. I always seem to side with the people who provide the jobs as opposed to the people who take the job then complain about the way they are treated, instead of just quittng and working for someone else who would hire their sorry ass.
I've been in three unions and the only thing I could count on was dues being deducted from my paycheck, everytime, without fail. I wacthed my union president give away benefit after benefit with each passing contract then spend my dues backing a political candidate I disagree with. Cause he's a "friend of labor" From auto workers allowed to smoke pot during lunch breaks to "make work" days at a grain elevator, I think unions have collectively bargained our country to the brink of financial ruin. But I do think unions have a noble cause. Protect the "little man" from the exploiting evil corporation. However,a good labor lawyer can be just as effective as any union. Just ask Curt Flood.
What the players don't seem to realize is they don't need to collectively bargain. What can they collectively bargian for that's not already covered in their mammoth individual contracts drawn up by their uber-agents. More time off? Better hours? Dental? Please.
The owners talk about opposing the negotiated percentage of revenue sharing with the players. But if you caught one of them in a weak moment, he'd tell you they actually love it. They know exactly how much their salary expenses are for years to come. Every owner spends the same, only spreads it out differently. It's like that holy grail of union accomplishments. The minimum wage. Corporations publicly rail against it while privately loving it. They know what every other McD's, Popeye's or Burger King is paying. "You mean I only have to start you off at this low rate?"
Which brings me back to the slavery comparison. The thing that is astronomically light years from the truth is that NFL players are like slaves.
They are incredibly well compensated pawns on that 100 yard chess board.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Payton Can't Coach here and Live There
So Saints coach Sean Payton has decided that two cities are better than one. Louisiana is not big enough for the Paytons so he's packing up his bags and he's moving to Big D, part time that is. Payton plans to have his bbq in Dallas and his bloody mary in New Orleans. In other words, he wants a long distance relationship. Well I'm here to tell ya coach. They never work.
They start out with good intentions. The promises to talk every night, to be together every weekend, "I'll got to your house this weekend then you'll come to mine, then me, then you,blah blah blah!" We all know how these turn out. That nightly talk turns from steamy in week one to cold and dry by week three. Those weekly jaunts to the love nests shorten from Thursday morning thru Monday night, to Saturday night thru Sunday morning.
Then over.
Listen, if the Paytons are unhappy in Louisiana then they should move. This is America afterall and we have the right to live anywhere we choose. But if he wants to move to Dallas he should resign as Saints head coach. That's all. Just resign.
I find it hard to believe that any Saints fans would be able to stomach a part time citizen coach. Hell, even Bum Phillips lived in the area while he coached the Saints.
Imagine they're playing the Cowboys...in the playoffs... for the NFC championship... he calls one of those double reverse pitch it to Reggie plays on third and one with the lead and it ends bad...well you know where I'm gong with this...
Now let me state for the record that I think Payton is one of the best coaches in football. I don't want him to resign, I want him as the coach for my team. If it were up to me I would have Payton go the Drew Brees route and embrace this city for all its quirks and faults. Become ingrained in the rich culture it has to offer.
Isn't it ironic that the guy from Texas has chosen to plant roots in New Orleans, while the guy who brought him to New Orleans wants to bolt... to TEXAS!
Come to think of it, Brees must be wondering what the hell is going on. "This is the guy that convinced me to take what I'm seeing in the ninth ward and strive to rebuild it and the city together? Now he's bailing because the malls in Dallas are nicer?!"
"Well Payton just wants whats best for his famiy", some will say. Fine then, resign.
"Texas has better schools, less crime, it's cleaner and...and...and...the malls are prettier". Ok...resign.
"No, Payton says he'll commute, that he really wants to be here, he'll have two homes". Yeah, I believe that like I believe his injury reports.
The bottom line is, for a man the means of Payton, good education, safety and shopping can be found anywhere. Including Louisiana. What can't be found anywhere is a fanbase whose love for the team is as unabashed and unbridled as Saints fans. But they want their coach to at least appear to want to be here and to love them back.
Dallas?! Man football ranks somewhere behind rodeos, fashion shows and umm, shopping. Dallas fans?! I heard 90,000 people gathered for a funeral and a Cowboys game broke out.
The question is, Does he want to be the head coach of the New Orleans Saints. If yes, awesome! He and his family lives in Louisiana. Within 50 miles of New Orleans.
If no..sit down...grab a pen...prepare a statement...move to Dallas.
They start out with good intentions. The promises to talk every night, to be together every weekend, "I'll got to your house this weekend then you'll come to mine, then me, then you,blah blah blah!" We all know how these turn out. That nightly talk turns from steamy in week one to cold and dry by week three. Those weekly jaunts to the love nests shorten from Thursday morning thru Monday night, to Saturday night thru Sunday morning.
Then over.
Listen, if the Paytons are unhappy in Louisiana then they should move. This is America afterall and we have the right to live anywhere we choose. But if he wants to move to Dallas he should resign as Saints head coach. That's all. Just resign.
I find it hard to believe that any Saints fans would be able to stomach a part time citizen coach. Hell, even Bum Phillips lived in the area while he coached the Saints.
Imagine they're playing the Cowboys...in the playoffs... for the NFC championship... he calls one of those double reverse pitch it to Reggie plays on third and one with the lead and it ends bad...well you know where I'm gong with this...
Now let me state for the record that I think Payton is one of the best coaches in football. I don't want him to resign, I want him as the coach for my team. If it were up to me I would have Payton go the Drew Brees route and embrace this city for all its quirks and faults. Become ingrained in the rich culture it has to offer.
Isn't it ironic that the guy from Texas has chosen to plant roots in New Orleans, while the guy who brought him to New Orleans wants to bolt... to TEXAS!
Come to think of it, Brees must be wondering what the hell is going on. "This is the guy that convinced me to take what I'm seeing in the ninth ward and strive to rebuild it and the city together? Now he's bailing because the malls in Dallas are nicer?!"
"Well Payton just wants whats best for his famiy", some will say. Fine then, resign.
"Texas has better schools, less crime, it's cleaner and...and...and...the malls are prettier". Ok...resign.
"No, Payton says he'll commute, that he really wants to be here, he'll have two homes". Yeah, I believe that like I believe his injury reports.
The bottom line is, for a man the means of Payton, good education, safety and shopping can be found anywhere. Including Louisiana. What can't be found anywhere is a fanbase whose love for the team is as unabashed and unbridled as Saints fans. But they want their coach to at least appear to want to be here and to love them back.
Dallas?! Man football ranks somewhere behind rodeos, fashion shows and umm, shopping. Dallas fans?! I heard 90,000 people gathered for a funeral and a Cowboys game broke out.
The question is, Does he want to be the head coach of the New Orleans Saints. If yes, awesome! He and his family lives in Louisiana. Within 50 miles of New Orleans.
If no..sit down...grab a pen...prepare a statement...move to Dallas.
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