Thursday, September 17, 2009

Oh Percy, Percy Me

What up world,

Did you see what I did there? With the title? Very creative, right? I'm chuckling to myself, and humming Marvin Gaye, as I write this. Regardless of your thoughts on the title, or of me in general, this is the perfect time to introduce you to my newest man-crush on the Minnesota Vikings. That's right! It's WGTKY, the Percy Harvin edition!!!!



For those that are not regular readers of Sota Love, a WGTKY (Wanna Get to Know You) segment delves into the world of a specific Minnesota sports figure, prior to their time in the Great White North. Here are a few of the initial characters that we've focused on in our WGTKY segment:

-Rodney Carney
-Kevin Love
-Ryan Gomes
-Joe Mauer
-Brendan Harris
-Orlando Carbrera

I would like to continue this fine tradition with none other than William Percival Harvin III. This future phenom of the Vikings was born in Virginia Beach, Virginia, to his mother, Linda, and father (you guessed it) William Percival Harvin, Jr.

Percy has been fast, and elusive, from the moment of his birth. As rumor has it, he began life by sprinting out of his mother's womb, eluding the grasping hands of the maternity ward doctors, scoring a touchdown, and hooking up with, not one, but two members of the nursing staff, before settling into the welcoming arms of his mother. Percy was born to fly.

Throughout his childhood, Percy demonstrated his propensity for domination. He won a Pop Warner National Championship at the age of 13, a state championship as a junior in High School, and a BCS Championship for Florida both as a Freshman and Junior. He is widely credited with scoring every touchdown and accounting for every yard for each team that he has played with. He played defensive lineman for a period of time in high school, destroying opposing quarterbacks with 104 sacks over the course of the season. There was one game, in his last season at the University of Florida, in which Percy was the only player on the field on both offense and defense. Final score; Florida Percy's 76, Tennessee Volunteers 3.

As with many superheroes, Percy possesses one distinct weakness. Even with all of the domination on the football field, the countless hours he spends performing charitable acts, and his part-time job as an astronaut, there is still a less desirable side to this superstar. It's hard to believe, but Percy has a thing for weed.

I'm sorry to bring it up, but it was something that I felt was necessary. You demand full disclosure, and I'm here to deliver. Percy tested positive for marijuana at the NFL combine, hurting his draft status, allowing him to fall to the Vikings as the 22nd pick in the 2009 draft. I've had numerous conversations with Percy regarding these events since they occurred. He regrets his actions, and offered me a brief explanation.

1) Percy Harvin moves at such lightening fast speeds, that without the help of marijuana, football games would be unfairly tilted in his team's direction. The weed slows him down to a somewhat human-like speed. He would be like that kid from The Incredibles without it. He doesn't want to crush the spirits of the opposing team too badly.



2) His desire to play for the Vikings was too strong. He had run out of options, and chose to get caught with marijuana in his system. Percy is far too intelligent to be apprehended for something this ridiculous. It was an intentional move, made to be a part of the purple and gold.

3) He was listening to Bob Marley, while watching the sunset, after spending the day playing Frisbee-Golf. It was the logical next move.

So, while testing positive for marijuana does not improve his perceived character in the eyes of the public, it was mostly justifiable. I've told him that he can continue his smoking habits if he wants, provided that he keeps it out of the medias' hands for the duration of his stay with the Vikings. He's agreed, possibly hinting that he might stop altogether, to focus on embarrassing every other team in the NFL.

I'm sure that all of us can agree that this is the best course of action. With Purple Jesus as our running back, Old Man River as our QB, and Percy "Sexual Healing" Harvin in our receiving corp., I see only good things for the rest of the season.

It's good to get to know you Mr. Harvin. Help me forget about the pain that T-Jack inflicted upon my heart last season. Continue on with your dominating ways.

-Sota

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

It Hurts

What up world,

I wanted to take a quick moment and remind everyone out there that the Twins are still playing. What's that? Who are the Twins, you ask. They are a professional baseball team that plays in Minneapolis. Still nothing? They're the most successful team in the 2000's among the major sports franchises within Minnesota. No? Not even a glimmer?

I'm sorry. That's right. The Vikings have started playing. There's that new quarterback in town, right? Jesus has returned in the form of a running back, who delivers God's stiff-arms of fury among all non-believers, correct? My apologies. I should have considered that prior to my opening statement.

Once the NFL's regular season, not to mention the college football season, begins, everyone starts to forget about the other team that inhabits the Metrodome. Especially during a disappointing baseball season. We can forget the pain of late-inning losses and the prevalence of ass-bats by turning our attention to more promising endeavors. It makes the mediocrity of the Twins season easier to bear.

But hold on fair reader. The Twins season is not over quite yet. As I write this, they are sitting 4 games behind the Detroit Tigers (although it looks like it may be 4.5 in the next couple of minutes). They have 7 head-to-head games left in the season, and the Tigers have not looked like world beaters in the past couple of weeks. There is still a chance. While the Vikings are beating up on the Browns and the Lions, the Twins are slowly creeping back into the pennant race. With a couple of breaks here and there, and a healthy lineup, there is no stopping us!

What did you say? Not healthy? Of course we're healthy. Justin Morneau is still swinging lumber... No? Broken back?!?! Done for the season?!?

Okay, that's okay. We still have our giant off-season acquisition, Joe Crede... Really? Broken back also? No!

Still, we have a strong collection of starting pitchers that can bring it home down the stretch. Them too? Here is how we started the season:

Scottie Baker: Still holding it together.
Saint Francisco: Dead arm. Too tired from trying to hold up giant expectations. Now firmly entrenched in the bullpen.
Kevin Slowey: Currently possesses a wrist that is more machine than human. Done for the year.
Glen Perkins: Shoulder tendinitis and general suckiness has landed the Perkolator in the minors and is likely done for the year.
Nick Blackburn: Rob Nick has been up and down all season. Generally more down than up, but at least he doesn't have a broken back.

So, at this point, we have virtually no starting pitchers, no power hitters, and an infield of awfulness? It doesn't look good. There is still a chance, but it will somewhat miraculous if they can pull it off. I'm not entirely sure that I want to get my hopes up. Paying attention to them down the stretch might just lead to further heartache...

Maybe I'll see what those Vikings are up to.

-Sota

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

The Beginnings of the End

What up world,

There are certain things that I love about living on the West Coast. The ocean, delicious burritos, temperate weather, among other things. However, with the start of football season, I am reminded that there are certain issues that will cause me to eventually move back to the midwest. Namely, the start times of football games.

I am not a morning person to begin with, but with my current employment status, I have rarely been awake prior to noon in the past couple of months. I live a vampire-like lifestyle. Any sunlight that creeps into my room in the early morning hours is met by hissing and grumbling emitting from my lips. The situation is only worsened on Saturday and Sunday mornings, as I've typically spent a significant portion of the late night hours serving drinks and cleaning bar room floors during the previous evening.

To further compound the situation, my favorite teams are rarely broadcast on local television. Although it is a travesty, most residents of San Diego don't care about the Badgers or the Vikings. The result of this, is that I often have to travel to a specific bar to watch my teams live.

This means that I have to be awake by approximately 9 am, and travel to an offsite location, to watch the football teams that I really care about. This might not seem that ridiculous to many of you, but for me, it's pure torture. 4 or 5 hours of sleep is not enough for me to generate enough energy to properly cheer for my Badgers or my Vikes. I watched Purple Jesus' 60 yard touchdown run on Sunday, but was unmotivated to jump and run around the room, as is my usual reaction to something so amazing. I saw Favre tackle Percy in the endzone after his first Viking's touchdown pass, but shed no tears of joy. I couldn't muster the support that the Vikes are going to eventually need for tougher games later on in the season.

I had transitioned from a vampire to a zombie in a relatively short amount of time. I'm not happy about it. I can't see any solution to this problem either. You might be thinking to yourself, "Why don't you just go to sleep a bit earlier?" That's a ridiculous proposal. How dare you even imply something so preposterous.

No, the only thing that I can think of, is to make the move to a location that is more conducive to my lifestyle. A magical location where college games don't start until 11, and NFL isn't played before noon. Someplace that will show the Badgers and Vikings on broadcast television on a weekly basis. A place known as the Central Timezone.

I might tough it out through the rest of this season, but I'm not sure if I can make it through another. Sota Love might be making a return trip before you know it. This might be the beginnings of the end of my time in California. Unless, of course, the Vikings move to LA. Then it's a whole new ballgame.

-Sota