Hang In There, Paul

With news of Paul Allen's latest cancer fight, I have decided to back off my quest for a contract to NOT watch the Blazers. That said, I am 6 - 1 in my last seven games when I either watch or don't watch them. Meaning, when I watch, they lose, when I don't they have much better luck. My one loss was the fifth game of their road trip in which they lost in overtime to the Atlanta Hawks. I stayed away from all five games of the road trip, but in the last one, they couldn't pull it off. (I've never claimed that they win every game I avoid. I only claim that they tend to lose when I watch, especially if it's a game of any type of magnitude. I've never said I could go to a Blazer game and watch the team with the worst record in the league take it to them, although I bet they would certainly give them a fight!)

Anyway, I digress. I'm letting Mr. Allen go. He's got bigger fish to fry. I will do due diligence to help the team in any way I can. I will turn away when it's time to turn away. And I will get my fixes when the opportunity presents - say courtside seats against the lowly Knicks. AND, I thought, maybe I will take this curse to Vegas, lay some big cash down for or against the Blazers, depending on whether I choose to watch the game or not, and then collect my winnings three predictable hours later.

But I digress again. The REAL REASON I am writing today is to further prove a point that I am not normal. That forces conspire for and against me time and time again. This time it is in the form of STREET CLEANING DAY. I contend that on the ONE DAY OF THE YEAR that the city sweeps down my street, some mysterious ASSHOLE will park their car right in front of my house just before the city shows up to do their work. It happens every single year. Seriously, I have the dirtiest parking strip in NE Portland. And my wife will attest because ever since she has been around(three years running) she has been witness.

This year it seems one of the neighbors decided to have a bridge game or a book club because FIVE F'ING CARS all showed up at once and parked under the three biggest, messiest trees on the block. Thankfully, the city made its first pass down my street before the cars arrived and I at least had the luxury of them whisking the pile of leaves from my neighbors tree away from my strip. But the three houses east of me didn't have the luxury, which means eventually the waste will make it's way into my gutter.

Yes, I know, it's not THAT BIG OF DEAL. But christ all mighty, it certainly is predictable. I swear to God, in the last 365 days, I have not once, ever, seen the car that is presently parked in front of my house. WTF?!!!

Who's car are you? Argh!

Arggghhhhhh!!!!!!!

Dear Paul, I'm Back

Two games. Two losses.

My brothers took me to the Eastbank Saloon the night the Blazers hosted the Nuggets. They convinced me it was time to bust this curse. Actually, to be honest, it was born out of their belief that I don't hold any power over the Blazers fate. Even my own brothers, who have witnessed loss after loss after loss with me watching games, still don't believe me.

So we sat there, ordered some whiskey and beer, and watched. With two or three minutes remaining in a tight game, I offered to leave the premises. They said no and told me to fight through it. A handful of missed free throws later, the Blazers had their first home loss of the season, which came much earlier than last years first home loss, which was the first home game I watched last year, if you'll remember.

Amazingly, my brothers still tried to convince me it wasn't about me. Of course, logically, they make an obvious case. There is absolutely no way for me to prove it is true. I can't prove that if I'd got up with two or three minutes to go and left that Brandon Roy or Greg Oden would have made any of the crucial free throws they missed, but in my heart of hearts, I think they would have.

For good measure, I tuned into the end of the home game against the Atlanta Hawks. Coming off a home loss to the Nuggets, I was pretty certain that victory was inevitable. But no. A late rally fell short. I couldn't help but feel I'd thwarted it.

Out of boredom in my car I tune into the local yokels of sports talk radio. Caller after caller wants to talk about lack of team chemistry and who should be starting and who should be coming off the bench and who's to blame for this and who's to blame for that, but obviously none of them have ever read my blog.

My Dinner With Brent

The night before game 5, I went out to dinner with my bosses and mentors. We cocktailed at Bleu Hour before making our way to the Nines for a meal. As we were riding up the elevator mentor Derek said aloud, "Hey, you here to broadcast the game tomorrow?"

I looked up and realized Derek had mistook Brent Barry for Jon Barry. 

"You got the wrong guy, Derek," I said, "That's Brent, the Rocket." 

We proceeded to heckle him a little bit. I asked him if it bothered him that he was going to have to come back for game 7.

We got off the elevator and wished him well. We loitered a bit in the foyer before finally walking into the restaurant. We must have loitered longer than I thought because there was Brent again, right in front of us, asking the hostess for a table for one.

I popped him on the arm and said, "Table for one? You wanna you join us?"

He looked at me and then scanned the bosses and mentors.

"What? We're cool," I assured.

"Okay," he said with a shrug.

So Brent fucking Barry sits down next to me at the table. We all introduce ourselves. He asks what we do. "We work for Wieden + Kennedy. We make all those Nike commercials."

Brent feeds our ego by acknowledging that he knows of us and is an admirer of our work. He proceeds to tell us that he has dabbled in film production himself, and that after his career finally comes to an end he'd like to figure out a way to evolve his interest. He's got some good ideas.

So the banter continues. He's super cool and easy going. He's quick-witted and down to earth. At one point he looks at me and asks if I'd like tickets to the game. 

"Uh, can't do it," I say, "See, I'm a curse. If I go to the game, that means you won't be back for game 7."

Long story short, we transfer his generous offer to the bosses and mentors. Wine and conversation last long into the night. Our plan to get him drunk is pointless, he tells us; these days, he rides the pine til the game is out of hand. Somewhere the other side of midnight we exchange emails and say so long.

The next day Brent and I email back and forth. Nice to meet you. Thanks for hanging out. Then we strike a deal. If the Blazers win game 5 and 6, the Brent Barry tickets for game 7 are mine. 

Believers in my curse might think me crazy for pulling this, but the way I see it, it will settle once and for all my season long quest for a contract from Mr. Allen. If the Blazers win, I will accept that I do not control their destiny. But if they lose, I figure Paul will have to accept the truth.

So go Blazers. Win game 6. I won't be anywhere near the game. That said, if we lose, it won't be because of me. I have made the point before that just because I don't watch it doesn't guarantee victory. The only guarantee is that when I watch, they lose. Game 7 can bring it all to rest.

P.S. Brent Barry is one classy dude. After the game 5 loss he invited my boss's son into the Rockets locker room where he got to meet Yao Ming. After that he took them down to meet some of the Blazers, including Roy and Aldridge. Brent must've had a mom that raised him right.

Hey, Mr. Allen...You're Welcome

There's an article posted on oregonlive today that lists the many highlights of this year's Blazer team. I'd like to go on record by saying that I witnessed a total of zero of them. Had I been watching, I can guarantee that Brandon Roy's last second fade away prayer would not have found the bottom of the net for what has become the poster moment of the entire NBA this season. Well, that and the nightly heroics of The Chosen One - Lebron James.

You can read my last post and all the other posts before it as proof that I alone am the one who made this playoff run possible. I swore off the Blazers for the rest of the season after predicting that I could watch the last handful of games of the year, hence causing a meltdown of gigantic proportions. I began with a home game against Philadelphia and sure enough the Blazers looked abysmal. The next game was a hugely important nationally televised match up against the outside-looking-in Phoenix Suns. You can read my last post to see my effect.

During that game I made a promise to Mr. Allen and the entire city for that matter, that I would not watch anymore games the rest of the way, forgoing my endeavor to convince Paul to give me a contract NOT to watch. I made good on that promise. People will continue to say that it is not me. My own sister made a comment on this here blogsite poo-pooing my claim. My very own sister! I can't expect to convince anyone, even family. But let me assure you that this is all indeed true. I could watch the first game of the playoffs against Houston and rain on this happy parade. 

But I won't. 

I am too kind for that. 

For now, I will continue to stay away. But one day I will get weak. And I will need to prove myself, like any great athlete. And I will turn the tv on. And Travis Outlaw will go cold. And players will miss easy lay-ups, and 89% free throw shooters will miss 2 out of 2 with the game in the balance(I'm talking to you Steve Blake!) And the announcers will scratch their heads and wonder what has happened to their team. And they will have no answers. Maybe they will blame it on youth. But it won't be youth. It will be me!

Here's a thought: If the Blazers make it through the first round without me, I think my plan will be to allow them to play two games in LA(assuming LA beats Utah), where the Blazers might possibly sneak a road victory. Then, I will watch game 3. And the Blazers will come in riding so high. And the pundits will speak of how we have the Lakers number at home. And we will come out strong. But slowly Kobe will chip away. And maybe Pryzbilla will help him with a cheap shot. And then the calls won't go our way. And the fans will get restless. And the Blazers will get tight. And Travis will disappear. And the Blazers will lose by about 10. And the momentum will have shifted back. And the Lakers will have got the message. And then we will all talk about next year. And, then, maybe just maybe, Paul Allen will find some truth in this freaky power that I have. And the checkbook will come out. Because while championships are won, they can't be won without being bought, first. 

I Care Too Much

I went back on my promise. I got weak. I cared too much. I turned on the nationally televised Blazer game last night with the Blazers leading 15-7. I watched until Steve Nash hit a 3-pointer to pull the Suns within 21-19. Greg Oden was then called for a travel and I was convinced that I had fully swung the momentum. So I turned the tv off and took a deep breath. 

Let's think this through, I thought.

The Blazers are on national TV. Not only do their playoff lives rest in the balance, but so does our local pride. That's a load of guilt for one guy to handle. My phone buzzed and I looked down to see I'd received a message from a dear friend. "I'm at the Blazer game. Don't watch."

Already vulnerable, how could I let my dear friend down, let alone my team and city?

So I kept it off and read a book to my son instead.

Sure enough, the Blazers crushed the Suns. 

I am swearing off of them for the rest of the year and for as far as they go in the playoffs.

I don't think they'll advance too far this year, maybe a round or two, depending on how soon they run into the Lakers. But I am sacrificing myself for the team.  Screw the money if Mr. Allen doesn't want to pay me what is rightfully mine.  But this curse will not go away, and I cannot promise I won't get weak again, and test it when the Blazers are on the verge of greatness, when I am desiring to see history as it happens. It is true I care too much, but I am equally weak in my desire to witness the moment. Just keep that in mind Mr. Allen.

And you're welcome.

Largest Halftime Homecourt Defecit All Season

The announcers are all baffled as to what is going on. Both radio and tv play by play men are struggling for answers. If only they knew I am tuning in. That would explain everything. That would explain why the Blazers were so ice cold in the first half. 

I'm struggling with this choice I've made. I could turn the game off and they could come back, or I could watch and further prove my point. I think I need to watch. Honestly, I want to break this curse more than anyone.

There's Still Time

Ok, so the Blazers are 1-0 since I made my promise to watch the rest of their games this season. Lucky for everyone I forgot they had a game on Saturday night and didn't watch a second of it. I will continue to keep track of the rest of their games for the year, noting the ones I watch or listen to, and the ones I don't. Paul Allen, if you're out there, I want to reiterate that this is not malicious or vindictive. I don't want this curse of mine to be a reality. I would love disprove it by watching the young Blazers make the playoffs and advance far into the playoffs. But based on all the proof I've presented up to this point, I don't see that happening. You can still provide me a contract NOT to watch and I will give you a money back guarantee that the Blazers will make the playoffs. But without that contract, it's just not fair for me not to watch and be able to experience the thrill of possible victory. It is impossible to prove this control I have to anyone, and thus it should be fair for me to attempt(once again) to support my Blazers by watching and listening to them. I could take the high road and just not watch or listen, but that actually takes an inordinate amount of willpower. There needs to be something in this for me. Something for my sacrifice. 

By the way, I turned on the USA v Japan baseball game tonight just in time to kill a USA 8th inning rally and start one for Japan. Derek Jeter made an uncharacteristic error and Japan scored 3 runs to put the game out of reach and advance to the World Baseball Classic Final. I rise again. Sorry team.

It's Getting Out Of Hand

A friend of mine ran into me last night while I was waiting for my son to finish his Poekoelon Martial Arts lesson. He was coming in for his session, which followed my boy's. He said to me, "Down 2 with a couple minutes left."

I didn't follow. 

"Who," I asked.

"The Blazers," he said, "We're playing at Cleveland! I couldn't watch the end because I needed to get in here."

To which I replied, "Well, you can rest assured that since you just gave me that update they will most certainly lose."

My son arrived and we walked to the car. I turned on the radio assuming it would be over by then. Instead, the overtime session had just begun. The announcers were optimistic for a minute, most likely because they must not have realized I had just tuned in. Lebron and his band of Cavaliers went on to easily put the Blazers away, keeping both their streak alive, and mine. 

Mr. Allen, now is the time to act. The Blazers playoff hopes rest in my radio dial and TV remote. I can guarantee you they will fall out of the playoff race if I were to simply listen to or watch the remaining games of the season. The Phoenix Suns would catch the young Blazers and soonafter their golf games would begin to improve. It is certain. Certain unless you would like me to stay far away. 

Heck with it. To prove my point, I'm going to watch as many Blazer games as I can the rest of the season. This will determine once and for all whether the Blazers control their own destiny, or I do. Currently, they are 5.5 games up on the Suns. I will keep a log of the games I watch and the games I don't, but my plan is to watch as many as I can the rest of the season. And if the Blazers make the playoffs, then I'll back off my negotiations for a contract NOT to watch. 

By the way, apologies to Travis Outlaw ahead of time. For some reason, my impact is most negative on him. If the last couple of months he goes into a deep slump, it's my fault.

If you want to contact me while there's still time, feel free. My email is jeffs@wk.com.

Mr. Allen!

The Blazers are cold as ice! They've been stuck on 72 forever. I repeat my claim in earlier posts, I don't think I've ever seen Travis Outlaw make a basket on TV. I swear I am your opponent's defensive weapon. When I watch the Blazer's absolutely shut down. I read a great article about Shane Battier in the NY Times Magazine this weekend. I felt like I had a lot in common with him. You don't really see his effectiveness, but it's there. It's there! Just like me. Only mine is INeffectiveness! I'm turning this game off now. It might be too late. The game is tied. About five minutes left. Believe me, you have a better chance without me. Sorry if you lose. I thought I could handle lowly Memphis.

Are You There Paul? It's Me, Jeff.

Dear Paul Allen, Part Two:

After the Orlando debacle a friend of mine told me to watch the Blazer's home game against the LA Clippers, thinking it would prove I wasn't the reason for the losses of the past. I kind of got mad at him for doubting me but I said, "Okay, Brian, I will watch this game, even though the Clippers are terrible and we are playing at home. You will see once and for all that I am the reason."

So what I'm going to do is write out the text exchange we had during the 2nd half of the game. Brian watched the 1st half at my house before heading to a concert at the Crystal Ballroom. Here is the blow by blow after he left:

Brian: Think you gotta stick with it. They'll win this game. Keep watching. Let me know what happens. 

Jeff: I'll watch, but I've seen Rudy miss two free throws in two nights now.

Brian: Oh shit. Rudy just missed a free throw? That never happens, maybe you should just give up.

Jeff: The Spanish connection did just strike again though.

Brian: Score?

Jeff: 86-85 Clips. Zach is killing us. I'm bad luck.

Jeff: Mr. 4th Quarter is taking over.

Jeff: But Oden just missed an easy one. Fuck.

Jeff: U with your girl?

Jeff: Rudy just rattled out a 3. Fuck.

Jeff: 92-91 Clips. 3:13 left.

Jeff: Oden going to the line for 2.

Jeff: We look terrible. Rudy is playing like shit.

Jeff: Roy just hit a crazy bucket. 96-92. Refs just gave us a gift on a terrible call. Roy has 30pts. for 3rd game in row.

Jeff: Oden is getting more manly at least.

Brian: How much time? The band is sweet!

Brian: Keep watching.

Jeff: Clips just hit a tough shot. We're up 2 with 20 secs. Blazers timeout.

Jeff: Even if we win it won't break the curse. The Clips are 4 and 17!

Jeff: Clips just held Roy before inbound. Foul shot and ball. Blake misses. Now we can't get ball inbound and call timeout. Deja Vu Orlando?

Jeff: Blake back at line. If he misses, it's all me.

Jeff: Missed. He's 94%!

Jeff: Missed again. 3 in a row. Was 31-33 before tonight.

Jeff: Trade Blake.

Jeff: 18 secs

Jeff: Blake steals! Gets fouled.

Jeff: Makes first.

Jeff: Misses second.

Jeff: What a choke artist.

Jeff: Trade Blake!

Jeff: 8 secs up 3.

Jeff: Blake is such a turd.

Jeff: Baron at buzzer over Rudy. OT.

Jeff: Baron was 0-12 in late game pressure 3s before that shot.

Jeff: I want a contract.

Jeff: I swear if I turn this off we will win. If I don't we will lose. What should I do?

Jeff: Blake is an idiot.

Jeff: Davis another 3. We're going down.

Brian: Turn it off. Drink a beer. You got a cool wife and a good lookin kid. Go to bed.

Jeff: Lost by 8. Mike Rice even said he's bet his house that Blake would make his free throws.

Brian: Fuck. I take everything I said back. Don't watch the Holiday Bowl. Please.

Jeff: I won't. I'm glad you finally believe me.

Ok, so, that was the Clippers debacle. After that game I watched the Utah game on the road. Blazers didn't have a chance. Then I decided to give them a break and not watch them play at home against the Phoenix Suns. Of course, Brandon Roy scores a career-high 52 points and the Blazers win a thriller. And he made all 16 free throws. The next game was Denver on the road. I watched. They lost. The played Denver again the next night at home and I didn't watch. They won. Then, on Christmas Night, they played at home against the Dallas Mavericks. I watched with friends and family who assured me we'd break the curse together. Bah Humbug. Add it up and the Blazers are 2-5 over their last 7.  I watched 5 games. C'mon, Mr. Allen. What more proof do you need?