Altered States 8/15/09

As I sat Tuesday night going through notes, starting a rough draft for Sunday, checking a name here and verifying a fact there, the words had begun to flow and things were coming together in a way that could really inspire some heavy debate.

And then came the news........

The cabbie who took the beating from Patrick Kane over a few coins may not have had a valid license. First reaction was ambivalence ('what difference does that make?') but then a puzzled feeling came over me. Maybe I overreacted in condemning Kane for assaulting the cabbie. After all, this fight was about an amount of money well over fifteen cents, and really a cabbie is barely half a step above a homeless guy or welfare mom anyway. Maybe Kane was right in opening a can of hurt on this cab driver. If I was wrong about this, could some of my opinions about other folks generating lots of headines lately be misguided and/or ill-informed? My head began to spin more than usual. Sleepless nights were definitely going to be part of my immediate future.

Work was a welcome distraction come Wednesday morning, but even then the Kane Mutiny weighed on my mind. I couldn't escape the feeling that my deepest core beliefs had been shaken. I found myself blaming Kane one moment, the cabbie the next, and even innocent bystanders were found to be at fault for not using enough foresight to have doughnuts ready when the police arrived. How could they NOT have known somebody would call 911? Someone, anyone, had to be held responsible. My thoughts continued to be all over the place. Nothing made sense.

Wednesday night brought much sole searching, but even after I found my shoes I still carried a heavy conscience. The questions swirled in my mind. Was Kane wrong? Was the cabbie wrong? Could they both be wrong? Did the coat hanging in the corner just move? Is that MY hand?

Finally, early Thursday morning, the revelation hit me. What I'd thought was a completely irrelevant detail was actually the one that made all the difference: The cabbie was at fault, and brought that beating on himself by not having a valid driving license. Kane couldn't be held responsible. My initial reaction was wrong-I was wrong, and I'd likely treated some others too harshly as well lately. I had plenty of research to do, and something told me I had a few apologies to issue. Another sleepless night was to come. Exhaustive study of even the most seemingly irrelevant detail had to be completed. My conscience needed cleansing.

This is what I found:

Condemning the players involved in instigating the Sox-Tigers bench clearing brawl was misguided on my part. Earlier the day of the incident players from both teams were seen eating salads in their respective clubhouses. Pro athletes aren't meant to eat that kind of crap. What were the people who supplied the buffet thinking?
In fact, I even found a former Pistons player who implied that the very same caterers supplied the food eaten before the Detroit-Indiana game interrupted by Pacers players brawling with fans. He spoke on condition of anonymity: 'If Coach tells you I ate lettuce, then that's that. I may have eaten one salad this year, but if somebody says I ate one salad then that's enough to get a whole lot started. I can't eat romaine man. We're talking about lettuce. We're talking about lettuce man. We're not talking about a meal, something that actually matters, we're talking about lettuce. We're talking about lettuce.''

These players weren't responsible for their actions in either case. The clubhouse caterers incited the dispute by providing substandard drivel. I was wrong in condemning you guys, and I'm sorry.

Gary Bettman isn't destroying hockey with his shoddy leadership and blackballing of qualified prospective owners. Bettman is a man who has been tortured his entire adult life living under the cloud of crushed dreams from back to his adolescence. As a kid Bettman dreamed of becoming a Rockette, even going so far as training himself to become a world class skater, but still somehow was continually passed over for selection to the storied dance troupe. Bettman carries that angst to this day. If only someone had told him he'd confused the dancers with Ice Capades the future of the NHL might not appear so bleak. I'm sorry I judged you so harshly Gary. Its not you, its us.

I've been especially harsh towards Nancy Pelosi lately concerning her careless free-spending ways. I even went so far as to say she's racking up receipts like the drunken wife of a former southeast Asian dictator. Little did I know that 'Nancy Pelosi' is in fact the Anglicized translation of the name she was originally christened with-Imelda Marcos. That explains quite a bit. If only I'd known Nancy/Imelda. Many apologies.

Josh Hamilton isn't responsible for the carousing and debauchery captured recently on video and in print. Oh, Redi-Whip you evil seductress. How you taunt us with your sweet aerosol goodness. Even the strongest among us would be tested by this whipped cream temptation, let alone a recovering alcoholic and crack addict. The man is only human, and we're talking about Redi-Whip for Pete's sake. Of course, the hot babe applicators don't make resistance any easier. I'm sorry Josh, I now understand better your night of weakness. Damn you Redi-Whip! Damn you!

So you see, finding fault can in many cases involves the most obscure or even ridiculously made up details. Howard Jones was right all those years ago-No one ever is to blame. At least not as we're lead to believe anyway.

Maybe we should all quit fooling ourselves and accept that in Amerika today right and wrong is decided by comparing financial statements.

Thanks for reading.