Reflections, Rejections, and Being a Wiseass

So, the title is a total rip-off, performed against a high school classmate who went on to become the top Sportswriter in California 14 times. The heading and subtitle Scott Ostler uses at the San Francisco Chronicle reads “Deep Thoughts, Cheap Shots, and Bon Mots” and yeah, it works way better than my weak-ass imitation (and I bet American Academy of Clear Aligners Journal editor Marc will knowingly display a seldom seen coast-to-coast smile when he reads my confession.)

24-years ago when I jumped at the opportunity to see my photo in Temple City Life and the Pasadena Weekly, I sent two consecutive pieces for Scott’s review; both came back adorned in red ink and with words of advice. Remarks #1 read “Make a point and tell a story or tell a story and make a point.” The second piece came back with “What is it you don’t understand about making a point and telling a story or telling a story and making a point?”

These days, I subscribe to the Chronicle online and enjoy every word delivered by my prize-winning friend…and some remarks too. 10-hours ago, some misguided soul named Victor Serge (probably a Bruin fan) wrote, “Ostler finally writes a decent piece.” I smiled. I’ve heard and read far worse about my stuff. But if I’m not censored by the ADA, the CDA, the AACA, the Pac-12, or NCAA; here come some deep thoughts, reflections, and rejections. The reader can assess the extent of wiseassery.

So, even though (deep down) I’m still not over my USC Trojans losing to Texas more than 16-years ago, I mostly keep my emotions in check during spring and summer. But the memory of seeing my alma mater, in person in my now-hometown, lose to a QB who scored single digits on the Wonderlic has had its perverse effects. It’s like the 2006 loss at the Rose Bowl prepared me for the future and stuff like pandemics, insurrections, Southern Cal Edison, #45, and other colossal disasters over which I have had no control. I suppose sometimes one soul-scarring disappointment provides context for those that follow.

So last week, I scheduled my Saturday around the new head coach coming straight outta Oklahoma to $17M digs with a view of the Pacific, all the new players who replaced the guys from last year (who could’ve passed for the non-athletes accepted into the school via the former entrepreneurial student-athlete program) and the chance to see Rice but not eat it.

All week, I read the kick-off was happening 5PM Pacific. The previous Saturday, I put in an order to my favorite off Old Town Pasadena Italian spot to start a small Margherita with pepperoni at 4PM, with a dirty martini waiting for me at the bar. So, the game instead started at 3PM with the temperature at the Coliseum about 120-degrees Fahrenheit. No, problem; I turned up the A/C, poured an iced Arnold Palmer and figured I’d pick up the pizza at half-time.

Yeah, major problem. The televised production was coming our way via the dreaded double play combo of Pac-12 to Pac-12 Network- to fuboTV (and I have my own opinion about what the "f" and the "b" in "fubo" stand for- not football.) I missed the game entirely, but the pizza and Belvedere martini (dirty) were therapeutic, top-notch medicine for sports deprivation psychosis.

And it’s funny how pepperoni can impact my attitude. Looking back, I can remember laughing hysterically and hating fbTV and the Pac-12 Network all at the same time, and maybe it was the smoky aroma that brought me back to my senses. So, what if my noble Trojans are going to the Big-10 (or whatever) in 2024, implementing a total money grab to play the likes of Rutgers, fly-over universities, and states that more likely voted for Trump? USC is gaining cows, Northwestern’s Journalism department, and polluted rivers known to catch on fire. But we’re also severing ties with the Pac-12 Network and its accomplice, the dreaded fuboTV. Trojan football will be back…and televised. And during winter and fall in this crazy, mixed-up world, THAT’S what really counts.