Sweet Jesus

by SonDog

Well, the trade is back on, pending league approval, which is exactly where it was at exactly 24 hours ago.

Coincidentally, 24 hours ago, when Ron Artest threw a wrench into the deal, I wrote, "I'm in a state of shock at the moment."

Today, I'm at a state of shock at the moment. Stay tuned.

Now What?

by SonDog

Word on ESPN is that Ron Artest now says, "I'll go anywhere," with his agent saying, "Ron doesn't want to play in Sacramento." Seems a bit contradictory, unless Sacramento doesn't count as "anywhere."

The Maloof brothers, for their part, told Bloomberg News last night, "The trade is not dead yet. We're going to sleep on it tonight and try again tomorrow. The sleep, of course, is after we jump in our bed full of money with seven hookers and have the absolute time of our lives tonight at the Palms." Okay, so I made the last part up, but they did say that the trade is still alive.

And how does Peja Stojakovic even think of going with his team for the game in New York tonight? Can you imagine Peja walking into the locker room tonight saying, "Hey guys, you won't believe what happened to me yesterday." Seriously, how does he even show up? I have not been a Peja supporter ever since he requested a trade two years ago (actually, he requested a "change of scenery." Even his trade demands are soft.) because of Chris Webber. However, I am in his corner today because the organization is kind of screwing him over at the moment. I'm still at a loss at how this trade could come so close, with so much leaking to the media, only to have it derailed by Artest and his agent. They've talked about this trade for over a year, but only now they find out that he doesn't want to play in Sac?

Yesterday, in the girlfriend parallel, I wrote that Artest was a risk because, while he is a Playboy Playmate, he could come with every sexually transmitted disease imaginable. Well, Artest has already infected the entire Kings clubhouse with syphilis and the clap and he hasn't even set one foot in the locker room. How can a guy poison an entire team when he's not even a part of the team? It's mind-boggling.

At this point, the Kings would be fools to consummate the trade. They're going to have to figure out what to do with Peja (three-way trade sending Artest to either the Lakers or Clippers?), but at this point I can't imagine seeing him in a Kings' jersey again.

The bigger fear is what the perception is of Kings' management. Right now they look as screwed up as the teams of the mid-90's. What does this say to Bibby or Miller (or Martin and Garcia)? Greg Anthony of ESPN said yesterday, to paraphrase, "The Kings' situation is not stable enough for Ron Artest. They have a lame-duck coach, their team is horrible and they may not even be playing in Sacramento next year. Can you imagine Ron Artest in Las Vegas?" While Anthony is an idiot if he thinks the Kings will move to Vegas as early as next year, he makes a good point about the coach and the team. That being said, when did Ron Artest earn the option to determine what team he is going to be playing for, and how can Sacramento, of all places, not be stable enough for Ron Artest, the most unstable player in the NBA? You think pairing him with Kobe Bryant, watching him jack up 47 shots a game, in a city like LA so he can hauck his rap album all day is the stable environment he needs? Ludicrous. Just ludicrous. If I'm Larry Bird, there's a good chance I hire somebody to take Artest out during the Vibe awards.

Regardless, I still don't want him in Sacramento, but it just pisses me off to no end that this situation has left Sacramento looking like a collective group of douchebags while their longest-tenured player gets all the respect of a $3.00 Vegas hooker. Not that I'm incredibly bitter at this point.

Oh Boy

by SonDog

So, Ron Artest is crazier than I thought. Artest has refused to go to Sacramento, meaning the Kings have to do some serious sucking up to Peja Stojakovic.

I'm in a state of shock at the moment. Absolute shock. I'm going to leave the post below on the page for a while, then I'm going to delete it, along with this, so I never have to think about it again. Ron Artest, may you burn in hell.

Immediate Reaction: Artest for Peja

by SonDog

The way I see it, Peja Stojakovic today becomes the ex-girlfriend. The one that early on in the relationship was full of life, smiles, beauty, hilarity, sex and everything else. You thought she could eventually be 'the one."

By the end of that long-term relationship, however, the girl just bored you to death. She became as fun-loving as a morbidly-depressed freshman in high-school who is infatuated with goth. She no longer wanted to have sex because of nagging headaches, no longer made you laugh, put on a few pounds, threatened to break up with you if you didn't ditch some particular buddies (especially the one who averaged 20-10-5), seemed disinterested and distracted all the time and basically forced you to let her go.

Peja, just before the Kings traded him

Peja is the seven and a half year relationship that you will never forget, but one that you have to move on from (or, more appropriately, probably moved on from a year before the relationship officially ended.). In the News From the Ironical Department, Peja played his 518 game in a Sacramento Kings uniform on Sunday night against the Miami Heat. It was a game that earned him the record for most games played in a Sacramento Kings' jersey. In other words, you almost didn't want to break up with her until it was officially the longest relationship you've ever had, somehow trying to justify choosing her over somebody else somewhere along the line. In the end, it was the longest relationship you ever had, but one that is maddeningly filled with "what if" thoughts like, if only she got a boob job or could rebound at anything close to a consistent level.

Now single, the Kings decided to go for a huge gamble. They effectively decided to trade the comfortable yet uninspiring relationship they had with the now-ex, for one of the top-10 sexiest, funniest, most impressive women they have ever seen. She's a potential Playboy Playmate, makes you laugh until your gut hurts, loves to hang out with the guys, loves your dog and is as perfect as you can imagine. Well, close to perfect, I suppose. She has been known to be a little crazy and there is a risk that she has every sexually transmitted disease imaginable. But for now, you don't want to think about that. Maybe you'll worry about it later this year when you're going to the doctor because of that strange discoloration and itch that just won't go away. Today you're just excited that she may be going to bed with you each night for the forseable future.

Ron Artest, meeting one of the Maloof brothers at the Palms

With their life seemingly going nowhere, and their emotional-state at a Prozac-induced fog level of depression, the Kings had to do something. So maybe the new girl was a hooker in her previous city, but you want to give her a chance to change because you know she has so much potential.

Going For A Run

posted by BH

I have registered for the San Francisco Marathon. It cost me $100, or $3.85 per mile. I'm one of these people who needs a goal in order to keep motivated and I figure, why not run a marathon. I'm kind of in shape. I want to be really in shape. I've done a few triathlons. Nothing crazy like Kona, but shorter ones like San Jose where it was a 1/2 mile swim, 13 mile bike, and four mile run. I've always been a good swimmer. I've been a decent biker. But running, ah, running. The Great Satan. It's the portion of the triathlon in which I tend to get caught. I've been running off and on since I lived in Vail, which was about four years ago. I did a 5-mile run on the 4th of July in Mt. Shasta one year. I did all right. I mean, I beat my Mom and Dad and a few other people. I guess I'm better than I was, but I am by no means ready to run 26.2 miles through the streets and hills of San Francisco.

Translation: See the sights while choking on a lung

The marathon is on July 30th. I've got six-ish months to really be ready. For the record, my goal is to be under four hours. That means I've got to run at about a 9 minute mile pace. At this point, I can do that for maybe three miles, but not 26.2. So, you know. I've got some work to do.

Holy God

by SonDog

It's nearly 1:00 AM in Denver. The Broncos lost in the first twenty minutes of their game against the Steelers today, and I've been on the first-leg of a business trip that necessitated me missing the entire game. I'm somewhat happy I didn't miss a game that will live in infamy, not that I'm in the least bit incredibly bitter over A) the loss, and B) the fact that I missed NFL championship weekend.

So, I get into my hotel room tonight after an evening of networking and business meetings, and I see the following two news briefs about the day in NBA land:

1) Kobe Bryant scored 81 points against the Toronto Raptors, including 55 SECOND HALF POINTS.

2) The Seattle Supersonics beat the Phoenix Suns by the score of 152-149.

Not to sound like Sacramento Kings' announcer, Grant Napier, but, "If you don't like that, you don't like NBA basketball!!"

I cannot express to you the unbelievalbe unbelievability of these two events. First off, the Mamba, fresh off of a 51 point game against the Kings and a 60+ point game against the Dallas Mavericks, scored the second-most points in a single game in NBA history. That, in and of itself is simply ridiculous. Kobe scored all but 41 of his teams' points in the Lakers' win. In fact, he launched 46 shots, with the second most shots on his team coming from Shush Parker (11 shots).

But, in the same night, the Supersonics and the Suns did their best impression of 1980 in combining for the most points in a game since David Stern decided to have a love affair with defense. If you get a chance, you have to check out the box score from this game. The statistics are amazing.

There was a report tonight on ESPN.com that fantasy basketball owners throughout the world shared in the world's largest orgasmic experience after checking their team's stats. The two feats are equally impressive and deserve high praise. (This report isn't even mentioning the 40+ game that T-Mac had tonight. Oh, wait... I just did.)

I fully realize that the main topic for most sports fans will be the Super Bowl. But I could not go a minute without recognizing this historic night in the NBA. To fully wax Walton-esque hyperbole: This could be the greatest night in the history of the Stern administration in the NBA. Or, maybe it's 1:00 AM and I need to go to sleep.

Joe Buck: Greatness in Action

posted by BH

6:56 PST

"The only thing left for Seattle is to put an official finish on this game, which is dousing Mike Holmgren with Gatorade."

That, or letting the clock reach zero.

Huh?

posted by BH

Today's UPS/Phil Simms Reliable point of the game for both Pittsburgh and Denver's defense is "Box Office Blitz." I don't know what this means. Simms says it means whoever can get the most pressure on the qb will be in good shape. I don't know why he didn't just write that.

Skip to My Loo

posted by BH

I'm sorry this is so long.

If nothing else, Skip Bayless is determined to sound as crazy as possible. He doesn't want the Seahawks to go to the Super Bowl, but he can't simply write that he doesn't like them. His main argument is that the Seahawks are not a Super Bowl caliber team because they haven't beaten anybody meaningful. When they did win games against good teams, the wins weren't convincing. I hate this line of reasoning. They beat most of the teams on the schedule. Bayless acts like watching Seattle in the Super Bowl would be like having to trade places with William Wallace at the end of Braveheart.

I love the city of Seattle, despite its seemingly daily drizzle. I love the Pike Place Market and the Seattle Aquarium and the postcard vistas that surround you from atop the Space Needle.

Not only does Seattle have the best seafood and coffee, but the best major-league baseball park (Safeco Field) and the best NFL stadium (Qwest Field). I wouldn't mind living in Seattle, which just might be an even better San Francisco. For me, Seattle is nirvana, and I don't mean the grunge rock band of the late, great Kurt Cobain.
Oh wow you suck. This is pretty formulaic. Skip doesn't know too much about Seattle, but he wants the fans there to know that if he could, he'd live there. "Look. I'm one of you. Really. See how I mentioned Kurt Cobain?" Soon to follow will be the stunning, "You never saw this coming" moment, in which Skip blows us all away by saying,

I would rather eat fish eyes than see Seattle's Seahawks in my beloved Super Bowl. The Sea-frauds have had the luckiest road to the Super Bowl this side of a fast food contest winner. I'm convinced they're the destiny-driven product of the NFL's easiest schedule and weakest division, the NFC West.
You'd rather eat fish eyes than watch an entertaining team based on some crazy, moronic, something-other-than-reality principle?

If this Seahawks team were still in the AFC West, it wouldn't have made the playoffs, let alone have won a bye week and home-field advantage all the way to the Super Bowl.
First of all, they aren't still in the AFC West. Secondly, how do you know what would have happened? Thirdly, basing an argument on speculation that we have no way of finding out is rerally, really stupid.

I'm sorry, but the Emerald City has a cubic zirconia football team.
This joke would work if Seattle had ever been referred to as the "Diamond City." Also, the Seahawks are a real football team. Players went to real colleges, they put on real pads, Shaun Alexander has won a real MVP award, Mike Holmgren has won a real Super Bowl.

I keep trying to delude myself into believing I'll be OK with my third-string back. Sure, when the going gets tough, the tough get Goings. Give me my tough, smart little overachiever, Nick Goings. Little? Heck, he weighs 225 pounds. Last season he had five 100-plus-yard games -- three of them on 30-plus carries.

But who am I kidding? He doesn't have DeShaun's slash and dash. He can't make the Seahawks pay with 40-yard touchdown runs the way DeShaun could. That means the Seahawks will get away with triple-teaming the baddest little man on the NFL planet, Steve Smith.
The first paragraph is about Nick Goings being a capable NFL back. The second is about how that doesn't matter. These two paragraphs and the three or so before it (I didn't copy them because he laments the loss of Julius Peppers and DeShaun Foster) are simply designed to diminish anything the Seahawks might do this weekend. Goings is good, but he's no Foster. That means if the Seahawks win, they did what they were supposed to do against a second rate back and a diminished d-line. If Carolina wins, they did it with a second rate back and in spite of a diminished d-line, which is proof that Seattle didn't belong.

And that means my quarterback, Jake Delhomme, who's 5-1 in postseason games with a 108.5 rating (10 TD passes vs. just two interceptions), will let his hyper energy turn into frantic frustration and force up a couple of killer picks. That means my team's resolve will finally crack during their third straight playoff road trip -- this one a six-hour flight. That means …

… the Seattle Seahawks ARE GOING TO PLAY IN THE SUPER BOWL.

What's next, Milli Vanilli as the halftime entertainment?
Because the Seahawks faked their way through an entire NFL season and two playoff games? You're faking your way through this whole column. YOU'VE FAKED YOUR WAY THROUGH A WHOLE CAREER!!

Now Seahawks owner Paul Allen has hit the lottery twice -- co-founding Microsoft and lucking into the easiest road to Super Bowl fame since Janet Jackson's. Think about it: Allen's Seahawks played only four teams in the tougher AFC. They opened in Jacksonville, where they were predictably thumped 26-14. Then, right on schedule, they got to play the Texans and Titans as they were crumbling. Finally, Indianapolis played its junior varsity when it visited Seattle in Week 16.
It's too bad Seattle put these opponents on their schedule so that they could beef up against weak...wait, the NFL makes the schedule you say? And teams have to play the opponents the NFL says they have to? And you have to try to beat them? Hmm. Seattle did what they needed to do? So the Seahawks don't really have to answer to Skip Bayless or anyone else who might say they played a weak schedule? No. It's not Seattle problem that some of the teams they played had poor records. Thankfully that's why there's a playoff system in which the best teams get to play at the end of the year so that the pretenders might be sorted out.

By the way, Skip's Panthers won nine games against teams that didn't go to the playoffs and lost three to teams that didn't go.

And in their NFC nondivision home games …

The Seahawks survived Atlanta 21-18 when Michael Vick was banged up in the fourth quarter; survived Dallas 13-10 when Drew Bledsoe threw an inconceivably stupid late interception -- to somebody named Jordan Babineaux -- that set up a 50-yard field goal as time expired; and survived the New York Giants 24-21 in overtime when Jay "I've Lost My" Feely missed three field goals that could have won it.

The Seahawks' most impressive performance came on a Monday night in Philadelphia, when they won 42-0 -- while the no-Donovan, no-T.O., no-heart Eagles of Mike McMahon turned the ball over six times. But that night, much of America woke up and realized the Seattle Seahawks had sneaked up and stolen the NFC after playing the easiest schedule since the strike year of 1987.
So you just brought up a win, a win, a win, and a win? Solid.

Don't let Shaun Alexander play in my Super Bowl. He won the NFL MVP mostly because of a Charmin schedule and because he ran behind the NFL's best left side of an offensive line. Tackle Walter Jones and guard Steve Hutchinson I do greatly respect.

But not Alexander.
Is there some part of the MVP requirement that says a guy has to do amazing things for shitty teams? It does require some skill to run behind a good offensive line. Do you think Kevan Barlow's running for 1,800 yards behind Seattle's o-line?

For years, his reputation around the league has been that he'll turn soft when called upon to get the hard yards. He did nothing Saturday to erase those doubts. Early on, he turned what looked like it might be a short touchdown run into an unforced fumble -- whoops, I dropped it.

Then, after a fairly routine collision, he appeared to be woozy. Soon, the team announced he had a concussion. Maybe he did. But it's unusual for a concussion victim to come out of it 20 minutes later and be cheering his team from the sideline while not offering to return and help win a playoff game.

It looked suspiciously like Alexander wanted no more part of a Redskins defense that will ring your bell. The following Monday, he told reporters that he had been ill the week before the game and had taken some medicine on game day that made him "loopy." Yes, very suspicious.

His teammates must have been thrilled with him. They appeared to play even harder without him -- or in spite of him.
This whole part is so disgusting that I want to give Alexander Bayless's address. This is insane. Does anyone really think Holmgren is going to have a guy play for him who abandons his team when they need him most? Does Skip really believe that NFL players are going to let it go unnoticed that a guy wimps out while other players are on the field? It's these little inflamatory things that Bayless says all the time that make me think that he's either, a)truly insane, b)got no conscience, or c) six monkeys typing at a computer.

He goes on to blame the Redskins loss on the game against Tampa Bay, so I'll just skip ahead.

I still say coach Mike Holmgren's Super Bowl legacy was mostly a product of Brett Favre's offense and Reggie White's defense.
Because Favre's been to a lot of Super Bowls since Holmgren left.

I still say the NFL's most overrated team belongs to the world's most underrated city. I'll miss it.
No one in Seattle really changes his or her life because of what some insane, conscienceless monkey has to write. This is the West Coast. I guarantee that if you show up in Seattle and tell people who you are, no one will care.

Once again, I'm sorry this is so long. I'm not going back to the top to correct it.

Good vs. Evil

by SonDog

There are four evenings during the NBA season that are veritable religious holidays in my house. Those four evenings in past seasons have provided, among other things: excitement, drama, high comedy, tears, heartbreak, anger, frustration, elation, redemption and a sexual assault suspect. I am of course referring to the four times each season that the Sacramento Kings play their arch-rival, the Los Angeles Mamba's.

I have been a Kings fan for many, many years. I can remember the days when ultra-crappy color commentator, Jerry Reynolds, was actually the ultra-crappy coach and/or director of player personnel of the team. Then again, in those days, Sacramento had to reserve space in local high schools for practice time, so I don't necessarily point all the finger of blame for those horrible teams of the late-80's and 1990's straight at Reynolds.

Of course, Reynolds was the man who had the responsibility of drafting most of the Kings players from 1985 through 1995. His resume includes the following players: Evers Burns, Alex Holcombe, Mike Peplowski, Brett Roberts, Pete Chilcutt, Randy Brown, Steve Hood, Lionel Simmons, Travis Mays, Duane Causwell, Anthony Bonner, Sven Myer, Joe Arlauckas, Vernon Carr, Darryl Thomas, Scott Adubato, Vinny Del Negro, Rick Berry (not THE Rick Barry), Pervis Ellison (#1 pick in the draft), Harold Pressley, Johnny Rogers, Bruce Douglas, Alvin Franklin, Bob Beecher, Keith Morrison, John Flowers, Ron Rankin, Charles Bradley, Willie Simmons, Bob Lojewski, Charles Valentine, Alton Gipson, Chip Harris, Bruce Vanley, Jim Foster, Jeff Allen and the immortal Roosevelt Chapman. I'm forgetting Heywood Jablome and I.P. Freeley. In fact, the best players drafted during Reynolds' tenure are, in no particular order, Otis Thorpe, Kenny Smith, Billy Owens, Walt Williams and the immortal Joe Kleine... yes, Joe Kleine makes Reynolds' top-5 draft pick list during a 10-year period. That should tell you something.

Reynolds once drafted this man, Heywood Jablome, to be the savior of the franchise

At any rate, I have had a long-standing love-affair the Kings. Due to this, I have also had a long-standing hatred towards the Los Angeles Lakers. There has never been a time in my life where I have not hated the Lakers. I have respected them, but I've always hated them. In fact, I'm not even close to exaggerating here when I say I despise them more than any other team in professional sports (in case you're wondering, #2 is the Los Angeles Dodgers, #3 is the Dallas Cowboys, #4 is the New York Yankees, and #5 is any team that ever has anything to do with Alex Rodriguez, or, as most people know him, Gay-Rod.)

My hatred towards the Lakers hit an all-time high during the 2002 Western Conference Finals. Most of you who are reading this know what happened. But, for those of you who don't, I'll make a long-story short: The Kings were bent over a rusty picnic table by the NBA officials, while Kobe and Shaq stood by and laughed, on their way to shooting 27 FOURTH QUARTER FOUL SHOTS during game 6. In other words, they lost in seven games after getting robbed in what would have been a clinching game 6. It was such a travesty that American-hero, Ralph Nader, submitted a formal protest to the league office. I'm not even close to kidding.

Every year, some of the names change. Some remain from the Kings' glory days earlier this decade: Rick Adelman, Mike Bibby, Peja Stojakovic and Corliss Williamson (his second tour of duty in Sac). Some remain from the Lakers' glory days earlier this decade: Phil Jackson and Mamba Bryant (Devan George doesn't really count). However, every year, the passion and hatred towards one another stays the same.

During Thursday night's thrilling game in which the Kings won in overtime, there were several things that I noticed about these two teams:

• I'll say again... How can anybody want to be a teammate of Kobe Bryant? The looks of utter contempt that Mamba gave his teammates in the closing minutes of regulation, when they didn't pass him the ball, were insanely comical. The best was the temper tantrum that Bryant threw when Lamar Odom took the last shot of regulation, and missed, instead of passing to Bryant. Personally, I think Lamar did this on purpose, because he was grinning as Mamba was flailing about with anger. Honestly, I'm waiting for the day that Lamar lays Bryant out on the court with a lefty roundhouse.
• Shareef Abdur-Rahim deserves all the credit in the world for playing last night with his jaw wired shut. I mean, who would do that? Not to sound like Mike Patrick, but that's toughness right there. I mean, this guy is as tough as they come. His threshold for pain has to be off the charts. Or, as Joe Theisman would say, "You don't think this guy wants to play for this team? You don't think he's tired of losing? You don't think he wants to help in any way imaginable?" Or, as Paul Maguire would say, "I want to show you something right here... watch this, watch this right here... look at that jaw... WHAM!... it's wired shut! He's breathing through only his nose!"
• Was it just me, or did it sound like Doug Collins wanted to take Kobe out after the game to see Brokeback Mountain? Christ. During the third quarter, I actually muttered the words, "If Collins compares Mamba to MJ one more time, I just might shit my pants." Needless to say, I ended up cleaning my couch 52 additional times over the course of the next quarter and a half. I can paraphrase everything Collins said in the last four minutes with, "This is the exact same play they used to run for Michael." What, give him the ball and let him shoot over a quintuple team while his teammates stand around bored out of their minds? Seriously, that's the play call they used to run for Michael?
• This is a direct quote from the AP story this morning about last night's game: "Bryant played the entire first quarter and demanded the ball on almost every possession. He finished the first half with 26 points, but grew visibly frustrated with his teammates -- particularly Odom -- when they didn't pass to him every time down the court." I do not blame Odom one bit for trying to make something happen. There comes a time, I'm sure, when you get a little tired of standing around and watching "every time down the court."

Here's the Mamba, right after he was told to go to his room until he could play nice with others. Naturally, he took his ball with him.

• That being said, there was a rumor on ESPN.com last week that indicated a trade scenario involving Peja and Kenny Thomas (who played out of his mind last night) to the Lakers for Odom. If I'm the GM of Sac, I swing that trade faster than Kobe getting into trouble at a hotel. I've said for years, and OZ can back me up on this, that Odom is a perfect fit for the Kings' high post offense. While he made a couple of boneheaded plays last night, particularly the late charge on Thomas, Odom is a player who can make a serious difference in the right system.
• Favorite Doug Collins quote of the night (other than him referring to Mike Bibby as "Henry Bibby," his dad, for the umpteenth time during the last two years), "When the Kings offense doesn't score, they have a tough time winning." Kind of like what happens to most teams, but whatever.
• Mike Bibby is on a tear right now. He is doing his best to keep the Kings in the game for three quarters, before taking over the fourth with his shooting. He is one of the top players in the league at going left and stopping for an 18-ft jump shot. I honestly think that Brad Miller and Bibby are two of the best supporting players in the league. The problem in Sac is that they've asked them to be more than supporting players. See: Kings trade Webber to Philadelphia. Nevertheless, Bibby's 40 points last night all came within the flow of the offense, which is exactly what you want.
• The Mamba: Able to attack relentlessly and tirelessly with 99% accuracy, lethality and precision, unless it's overtime and you're trying to take 37-ft three pointers over three people while off-balance, with your teammates flipping you off in the background.
• Have I mentioned how much I hate the Lakers? Really, I really, really hate them.

Last night's game was the highlight of what has been a disappointing season for the Kings to this point. Maybe they can keep the momentum going through the upcoming road trip, maybe they can't. Regardless, for one night, they beat the Mambas, and all is happy and joyous.

Mind of Dad

posted by BH

For you cute "Soon to be Dads," here you go. Call it, preparation from a friend. Oh, fatherhood has its good parts. Great parts, that far outweigh anything negative. But you are going to remember longingly the days when you could say, "Well, at least I've never been vomited on." You will, at least once but probably far more frequently during your child's first two years:

-be covered with shit
-put a diaper on wrong, increasing the likelihood that you will be covered with shit
-be urinated on
-be covered with vomit
-be punched in the nards
-be quoted with precision after saying "shit"
-have to pull dog or cat food out of your child's mouth
-spend a night without sleep
-lose gadgets like the remote or telephone
-find your child playing in the toilet
-spend an entire four-hour drive listening to nothing but The Wiggles
-be bitten
-have facial or cranial hair yanked on without regard for the person occupying space under said hair.
-get into an argument with your kid in which the only words uttered are, "Watch Nemo (by the kid)," and "No, football (by the Dad)."
-find Life cereal in your bed
-lose keys
-have some kind of poop find it's way into your child's mouth, whether it's from a cat, dog, chicken, human, turtle, monkey, whatever. It. Will. Happen.
-have your hearing damaged

And there's more. So much more.

Mind of Soon to be Dads

by SonDog

As you've probably inferred from past "Mind of Kings Fans" posts, OZ and I have a pretty good friendship. I wouldn't go as far as to say that we have a man-crush on one another, but we know more about the other than we probably should. We were roommates in college for about three years. OZ and I can hold two-hour discussions on topics ranging nowhere outside of personal insults and attacks on one another's faults. It usually starts out with regards towards him having more hair than a southeast-Asian orangutan, and myself being as bald as a Pacific Ocean baby sea lion.

OZ and I compete in pretty much every aspect of our lives. If one of us is doing something, then the other needs to do it better... or faster... or stronger... or whatever type of gauge we can use to compete. For example, when he found out I was getting married, he had to go and get married two weeks before I did. So, when I found out that he and his wife were having a baby, I knew that Lese and I would not be far behind. Once we both have our first child, there's a good chance that we will put together an excel spreadsheet to document which father is doing a better job of fostering an ideal environment for the newborn.

Anyway, most of our daily emails start out first thing in the morning. I get to work, open my email, and there sits a message from OZ. OZ works as an accountant in Sacramento, but he still beats me to work on a daily basis, despite the fact that he lives in PST and I live in MST, and we are supposed to work the same 8-5 schedule. His ridiculous work-ethic is something I both highly respect and find downright hysterical. Monday's email started with a discussion about our beloved Sacramento Kings. However, it quickly turned to a discussion about fatherhood. I hope you find the following email chain inspiring and a good representation of how good we both will be at both fatherhood and godfatherhood:

OZ -- ...I'm not a good gauge as I thought the Kings would win the Pacific. I did however correctly call Phoenix being just fine until Amare comes back, thereby making them a powerhouse again.

Kel's 21 weeks. Actually, I don't think I've told you yet but we have ultrasound pics and we are having a boy. I'm going to get the pics scanned soon and I'll e-mail them to you.

SonDog -- YOU'RE JUST NOW TELLING ME THAT I'M GOING TO HAVE A GODSON!!!! THAT'S AWESOME!!!! At what week did you find out? We're at 13 weeks now, and I think the doctor said we can find out at 20 weeks. Congratulations!

Should I buy him a lifetime supply of Mach 3 Turbo razors right now?

OZ -- Aha. That's probably not a bad idea, though I didn't have to start shaving until 4th grade.

It's a little weird because I was POSITIVE we were having a girl. So sure in fact that I've been referencing the baby as Jillian and giving the poor kid a complex. Now we have to readjust, which is fine as we didn't have a gender preference at all, we just need to get into the boy mindset. In particular, we can't agree on a name we both like. We considered using Robert Kerstiens IV, just so you couldn't.

SonDog -- You know, "Jillian" would be a good stage name if your son ever becomes a drag queen. Of course, as the Godfather, I might have to lay down the thunder of Zeus in that scenario (on you, not him).

OZ -- So, you still plan on going through with naming your kid Robert, even though you've gone through your entire life by a different name? If you have a boy, is it possible for him to be born with a receding hairline?

My future son, just hours before his first trip to Hair Club for Men.

SonDog -- He will not be referred to as Robert if it's a boy. I'm kind of thinking we're going to have a girl though. My hair started receding in third grade, so I don't think he would be born with a receding hairline. However, there is a strong chance that he will demand whiskey in his bottle.

Will your son come out of the womb saying things like, "This Sacramento team has the potential to be one of the best ever?"

OZ -- Will your kid come out saying things like, "'Melo is the shizzy my nizzy" while having the pasty white complexion you are known for?

SonDog -- Will your kid come out saying things like, "This Kings bench has the potential to be better than the days of the 'bench mob,'" while bearing a strong resemblance to the Kings' ultra-hairy mascot, Slamson?

OZ -- Will your kid come out saying things like, "Aye bloke! Get a single bloody rebound!" while referring to all drinks in pints?

Speaking of which, is it possible that the child will have an accent? I don't mean British, I'm referring to the dumbshitian dialect you've become so fond of speaking.

SonDog -- I imagine the kid will have a non-regional diction, although if I get pissed off at him or her, there is a chance that I'll send him/her to England for a summer to visit the grandparents. If that happens, the child may get a cross-cultural lesson in grammar, saying things like, "Steady on there homemate, my chaps and I plan on visiting the mizzi in the hizzi at half seven."

Have you given thought to the fact that you might scare the living hell out of your child the first time you don't wear a shirt in front of him? Not because he thinks he's looking at a gorilla, but because he will be deathly afraid that one day he will look like you? I think you should start researching how to psychologically cure his soon-to-be complex.

OZ's future son, after the first time he sees his dad getting out of the shower.

OZ -- So you're saying that if I say potatoes will put hair on his chest, he'll spit them out faster than a Hindi eating a cheeseburger?

I'm wondering at what point you decided that due to your lack of cranial hair, no portion of your body should have the accursed growth and you would battle it with Nair and shaving gel for the rest of your life. Your kid's going to think you're an Olympic swimmer until he sees you flop around in the water like a yellow hat (BH will get that).

SonDog -- Either that or the kid's going to look at me like I'm a character off of X-Men.

So, if you even say the word "hair," there is a good chance your son will spontaneously suffer an epileptic seizure from fear? And at what age will your child be stronger than you? 3 or 4?

OZ -- I don't think that having a shiny head makes you an X-men character. Usually the physically deformed ones are villains anyway.

So if you have a boy, are you hoping he gets Lese's athletic talent? I guess saying, "You throw like your mom" in your child's case would be a distinct improvement over the alternative.

SonDog -- If I'm in a chair, I would look like Professor Xavier.

I'm out like your child's ability (assuming he gets your grammatical skills) to put together a complete sentence.