Reading Rainbow: The Machine by Joe Posnanski

I feel like I should set this entry up just a little by stating that before I go anywhere else on the internet I check my RSS tab on my browser to see if Joe Posnanski has written anything new. More often than not, he has. If there isn't a new entry in the feeder, I go to the blog anyway to make sure the RSS is up to speed. If the first step fails to turn up a fresh entry, the second step almost always does.

This is somewhat remarkable in that he is so prolific in his writing that one would think the quality would suffer under the burden of his hyperproductivity. I can categorically state that it does not.

Seemingly each day, Joe* gives his loyal followers a blog entry like this, or this, or this, or this. And those are just a few that go back to the U.S. Open (tennis, not golf). To think that he does this while juggling being a husband and father of two, writing for Sports Illustrated (and before that he was a two-time AP Sportswriter of the Year as a columnist at the Kansas City Star), and writing his second book is mind-blowing to me.

*And I read his blog so voraciously that I really do feel like I am on a first-name basis with him despite the fact that there is no way he has more than a fleeting idea as to who I am--although it was my question about The Catcher in the Rye that led to a poll question a couple of weeks ago... Hell, it's even where I took this use of the asterisk (Pozterisk) to off-set tangential trains of thought.
So with that rather lengthy and not entirely relevant introduction reeking of self-indulgence perhaps only paralleled by a Harry Knowles review, I finally get to the reason behind this blog entry:

Joe Posnanski's newest book is available in bookstores (and presumably at your public library). His first book was the deeply affective The Soul of Baseball: A Road Trip Through Buck O'Neill's America, which you can find a review of here. You certainly wouldn't need to start there, but if you haven't read it yet, do so immediately.

As for that newest book I mentioned, it might just be as good as TSOB. Briefly titled The Machine: A Hot Team, a Legendary Season, and a Heart-stopping World Series: The Story of the 1975 Cincinnati Reds, Posnanski recounts with colorful detail (and language) the storied season of one of the greatest teams to ever take the field.

Now, I am not a Reds fan. I have no feelings about them one way or the other. My level of interest in the subject matter going into the book was limited to being vaguely intrigued by the figure of Pete Rose and hoping that Joe Morgan came off as at least a bit of a jerk (thus further validating the disdain I feel towards Joe Morgan, the Color Commentator).

The returns I got from this book exceeded my expectations one-hundred-fold. Posnanski shapes the on- and off-the-field goings-on into an immensely entertaining and compelling narrative. Where some baseball books come of as a bit dry and over-burdened with clichés and purple prose, The Machine achieves an seemingly effortless engagement of the reader's attention. With only vague notions as to who these men were, I found myself often deciding that I would read five more pages and then do whatever task I needed to do only to grant the commencement of that chore another reprieve when I felt like I needed to know what happened next for Don Gullett or Ken Griffey.

The preseason stage-setting pitting the Los Angeles Dodgers against Sparky Anderson's Reds is perhaps the most surprisingly compelling section. Without any games being played, Posnanski sets the stage for the season at hand masterfully, pitting their failures up to that season against the continual expectation that the supremely talented Reds should be winning it all.

Posnanski also captures the fascinating duality of a successful clubhouse, with its friction and its camaraderie. Imbuing the book with a healthy dose of blue language (these are ballplayers we're talking about here) to insert the book comfortably into the appropriate time and place, he gives the reader the sense of actually being a fly on the wall in the '75 Reds clubhouse.

In all, this book is about as far from a chore as possible and makes for an enveloping journey from the beginning to the end of a baseball season culminating in a hard-earned and long-awaited World Series win filled with drama and suspense.

For the doubters, all you need to do is read the Prologue in which Pete Rose storms up and down the length of the dugout in Game Seven with his Reds on the ropes, feverishly cussing his teammates out. If that passage does not grab you, you have got a serious character flaw.

Regardless, the book is a fantastic read, one that should appeal to even the most casual of baseball fans.

But you don't have to take my word for it.

Sports fan?

Since I started writing for Sports Grumblings, I decided that I wanted to shift the focus of this blog a little away from the realm of sports. As the baseball season approaches, I'll tentatively be shifting my focus at Sports Grumblings to baseball, and I also plan on starting an entirely new Royals-centric blog as an outlet for my fandom at some point in the nearer future, probably as Hot Stove heats up.

All that being said, I can't help but comment on the Chiefs game today.

Shockingly, the Chiefs should have won this game.

I know, it's hard to fathom.

For their two games prior to their face-off with the Jets, the Chiefs looked like a Division 1AA school playing in the NFL. This time they'd be trotting out Tyler Thigpen who was so bad that the even keeled Joe Posnanski likened his play earlier in the season to an instance in which the Chiefs pulled a player out of the stands to play quarterback. Any Chiefs fan who happened to miss the game would be shocked to hear that seven completions into the game Tyler Thigpen--former 7th round draft pick of the Minnesota Vikings who graduated from Coastal Carolina (apparently, they're a Division 1 school...)--would have a perfect passer rating. Even more astonishing was the fact that he actually continued his solid play until the end of the game, having only one truly reprehensible pass that was fortuitously not picked off.

Moreover, thanks to what should have been the Chiefs second pick-six of the game (Derrick Johnson blowing the first one with 85 yards of open field and the Favre pass hitting him in the numbers) at the 7:48 mark in the fourth quarter, the Kansas City Chiefs led the game with just 3:20 to go, facing a 3rd and 3. Any person who has ever seen a Herm Edwards team play with the lead late in the game knows what happened next. For that matter, any person who saw the first two downs of the series knew what was going to happen. Handoff. To the left. Stopped short of the first down.

If this hadn't been the second straight three-and-out for the Chiefs offense that was the result of conservative play-calling, maybe this wouldn't be an issue.

Unfortunately, late in close games, this is exactly who Herm Edwards is as a coach. He's more conservative than Sarah Palin. Rather than "play[ing] to win the game", Herm's teams have historically played not to lose, and that has cost the Jets and now it is costing the Chiefs.

And tomorrow, I'll probably be finding myself checking the Kansas City Star's website to see if Lamar Hunt has finally done the right thing and shit-canned both Peterson and Edwards.

Chiefs fans need a fresh start.

We certainly deserve it 19 years into the 5-year plan.

Teeth a-sinkin'

So I wanted to write this entire blog while listening to the theme from "Doogie Howser, M.D.", but my computer is acting a little weird right now. Guess I have to scrap that plan.

This will more than likely be a whopper of a post covering a Posnanskian range of subject matter, so fasten your seat-belts, 90210 fans, you're about to get knocked up...

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The Alan Ball vampire show, "True Blood", premiered tonight. Accents notwithstanding, the show was all right. Its pacing was a bit turgid at times, with seemingly little happening for a fair chunk of the show.

The teaser seemed to do very little to advance the plot. I guess it set up the show's premise, but whether it was engaging or not was an entirely separate matter, and the fangs on the bumpkin in the convenience store were comically bad.

Playing with the light in Merlotte's also seemed a bit odd, as the show is not solely told from the perspective of Anna Paquin's Sookie, so the departure from a reality in which she is telepathic to one in which all the lights dim took me out of the scene momentarily.

Stephen Moyer's turn as Bill, the new vampire to town, was also shockingly leaden, with his performance at times seeming much like he was channeling Mark Heap in "Spaced" while disregarding the tone of the show.

Past that, the show was all right. Nothing that was awe-inspiring. Nothing so pedestrian that I wouldn't watch a few more times.

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I hated "Entourage" when it first began airing.

It wasn't funny, and I had problems with its glorification* of a phenomenon that I found to be slightly retarded. The entire notion of the entourage in Hollywood and the sports world is just something I couldn't be bothered to care about, let alone enjoy sitting through a program devoted to such a posse.

*I've also been watching "Gossip Girl" as Jackie has been getting discs in the mail, and I have to say it's glorification of the lifestyle of the spoiled rich kids is quite bothersome to me. In "Entourage", at least someone has done something to warrant the modicum of fame that is then abused by a few. In "Gossip Girl", the audience is supposed to give a fuck about self-absorbed rich kids who throw fancy parties and have no problems drinking at any bar in New York. Aside from that being a ridiculous presupposition to make, the characters are not anything other than milquetoast. Furthermore, they're not even attractive rich kids. At least the 35-year-olds in the original 90210 were attractive.

And while you're watching and hearing Kristen Bell's voice-over as Gossip Girl--the blogger that keeps tabs on all of Manhattan's best and brightest--you can't help but be reminded of how "Veronica Mars" was a show at least partially about the rich but managed to be entertaining and explored depths "Gossip Girl" could only dream of. It also had a stable of writers that was capable of putting a pen to paper and having the result be something not entirely consistent of chat-room diarrhea and "Sex and the City" punnery. But I digress...

Additionally, Turtle and Drama were completely irritating in every way imaginable.

I did not like the show.

Then the second season began airing, and as a result of its timeslot, Jackie and I would sit through it while waiting between shows. The weird thing was that the second season was actually good. I was shocked. It's not often that I make an about-face on a show like that, but with "Entourage", I did.

For reasons related to not having HBO and not caring enough to obtain episodes in less than legal fashion, I didn't see all of the last season. I've seen enough to have gotten the gist of what happened, and I saw the last few episodes, which pretty much got me up to speed.

We now find Vincent Chase at rock bottom, having starred in a historically bad Medellin bio-pic that was booed at Cannes and then gone into hiding on the beaches of Mexico. No one wants him. In fact, Vince is now nothing more than a pawn in negotiations where producers want other actors.

Drama is still aggravating--partially by design, partially by Kevin Dillon's acting. Past that the show seems like it has tapered off a bit since the heights it reached in its second and third seasons. Maybe it can recover. Hopefully it doesn't regress to the lows it occupied in its inaugural season.

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Football completely took over my Sunday, and I don't feel good for it.

The Chiefs were not particularly good.

They had it inside the 10 with less than a minute to go and were unable to punch it in to tie the game.

Not surprising. Croyle went down, but the Chiefs were able to take out Brady first, so I guess there's that.

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I recently finished two books: Lost Echoes by Joe R. Lansdale and Tree of Smoke by Denis Johnson (and the grammarian in me really wants to underline those titles, but I can't figure out how to do that, so you'll have to settle for the italics).

Lost Echoes was a pulpy burner. Lansdale is always a very quick read, and this was no exception. Aside from his off-putting use of the word 'turd', he is a pretty solid writer. Texas native, Lansdale mines the depths of evil that humans are capable of without oversimplifying motives, which is often the fault of genre writers. Unlike some of his works, this one does incorporate a little bit of the supernatural, but it doesn't err to mummy territory like his best known work "Bubba Ho-tep" which was turned into the well-loved film.

Lansdale is also much less broadly comical in most of his work than he was in "Bubba Ho-tep", and Lost Echoes is much more in the vein of more serious work. Don't get me wrong, his down-home tone is still intact, but this is a drier work operating in a more believable reality than the casual reader may be expecting.

All in all, Lost Echoes was pretty solid. Definitely something I don't regret reading.

National Book Award Winner Tree of Smoke was a bit of a disappointment. I've read other Johnson and rather liked what I had read. While Tree of Smoke was not bad, I did feel like I read 650 pages of something with little to no pay-off. It took a full 150 pages for anything of note to happen.

Sure, there is the exploration into the meaninglessness and misspent resources of the Vietnam War that is fleshed out, but that in conjunction with the illustration of the wrong people getting ahead are the main points going for a book that often wallows in what could be described as aimlessness.

Don't get me wrong, Johnson's prose can be arresting. His dialogue is often outstanding.

My disappointment lies mainly in the fact that this won the National Book Award, which has generally resulted in my having been pleased with a book that I've read, but having read other Johnson and having this feel like a lesser work is kind of baffling to me.

Whatever.

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I went to Bangkok Dangerous opening night.

Before I go into an in-depth review of the film, I should state that I am a big Nicolas Cage fan.

I'm sure you're thinking, "Oh, he must mean Nic Cage in Adaptation, Raising Arizona, and Leaving Las Vegas."

My answer to that statement is, "Fuck you. Stop putting words in my mouth. I'll like who I wanna like, dick."

I like new Nic Cage. The Nick Cage who does whatever fucking movie he wants to because it's a project he thinks he can have fun with. The Nic Cage who has hopelessly awkward interactions with ladies in films opposite of him. Barring the shittiness of Ghost Rider***, new Nic Cage has been extremely fruitful. We've been treated to his great ass-kicking of women leading to his death in the Wicker Man remake. We've gotten all the greatness that Chris Johnson/Frank Cadillac brought to the table in Next****. And say what you will, but the National Treasure movies have been better than The Da Vinci Code and Indy: KOCS combined.

***I blame this all on Mark Steven Johnson, who on top of denigrating the name of Minnesotans by churning out shit movies has managed to waste the talents of Ben Affleck and Nicolas Cage in the superhero movies he's conned studios into letting him direct. All of the Johnny Blaze moments in the film were awesome (because of Cage, of course) but as soon as CGI-Ghost Rider comes into the mix, the energy of the film is gone. That's a damn shame. Someone should write a new Ghost Rider movie and just let the Ghost Rider shit happen off screen, only to have Johnny Blaze react to what he did, maybe relating the story to an actress other than Eva Mendes, who frankly sucks.

****And as if I needed any further evidence to support my Nic Cage fucking rules argument, just witness the atrocious performance of Julianne Moore in Next if you need to see someone mailing it in. Holy shit is she bad in Next. Nic Cage makes this fucking movie work (well, the beautiful Jessica Biel doesn't hurt). Moore is well-regarded, and that reputation is mostly deserved. But while Nic Cage is acting his fucking ass off, Moore is delivering lines so ridiculously that you actually cringe.

Now hard-working Nic Cage sinking his teeth into vanity projects that are probably beneath an actor who has won an Oscar and been nominated for another may get overlooked by most, but seeing someone throw caution to the wind and take roles in whatever the fuck he wants to do regardless of artistry is bold. And I like it. Call me crazy, but I get to see Nic Cage in schlock, and sometimes schlock is fun.

Unfortunately, Bangkok Dangerous isn't that fun. It has its moments (like the first dinner he has with the deaf pharmacy girl), but unfortunately the film makers don't know how to liven up the film, and the finale is relatively lifeless despite the fact that Cage shoots a lot of people.

None of the film's faults lie at the doorstep of Cage, but Bangkok Dangerous remains a mostly forgettable Nic Cage movie, which is a line I never wanted to type.

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That's all I got.

Books, Books, Books

As much as I wish I had more Tom Waits reviews to relay to the massive (relatively) readership I've attracted over the past few days, I do not.

I have, however, been much more active on the reading front. Since I finished David McCullough's John Adams (yes, I'd like to be able to underline these titles, but I have not been able to figure that out yet), I've read another three books and am about to embark on another, but I feel compelled to get these entries out of the way before I do so. Since this post is going to be covering what could in actuality be at least four long posts, I'm going to be fairly brief in my reviews/reflections on each book in the interest of keeping things moving forward here at Inconsiderate Prick.

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John Adams, by David McCullough

Obviously, this has gotten a lot of attention over the past few years, what with the Pulitzer and the HBO miniseries. For whatever reason (laziness, lack of motivation, alcoholism), it took me almost a year to finish that book. As such, my retention was probably not what I'd have hoped.

McCullough's prose is pretty accessible for history writing, and his painstaking research clearly paid off as the life of our Second President was one of rife with nuance and complexity. His exploration of the unwavering devotion and anachronistic equality within John and Abigail's relationship is largely informed by their own letters to one another and, as such, adds rich personal insight into their lives. Outside of the sphere of the family, the role John Adams played in leading the United States to independence is investigated in great detail with impartiality, thus allowing the reader to see Adams, warts and all.

Was John Adams the world's easiest read? No, but it was not insurmountable and certainly merits a read if solely to gain better insight as to his place in history.

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The Soul of Baseball: A Road Trip Through Buck O'Neill's America, by Joe Posnanski

There is very little impartiality going into my thoughts on this book, as Posnanski is probably my favorite sports writer, and his blog was the first to be entered into the links section here.

That being said, this book was great. It was an incredibly fast read dedicated to a great man, whose efforts to spread the word about the colorful history of Negro League Baseball and his crowning achievement--the Negro League Hall of Fame--drove him to the end. As much as his efforts to keep the memory of the largely forgotten and historically relegated Negro League alive in our collective consciousness started to define who Buck O'Neill was later on in life, it does not take long to see just how much of his success was the result of his kind heart, gentle disposition, and warmth of spirit.

The book is also teeming with great stories of baseball's yesteryear, like Buck O'Neill going to Billy Williams's home (Williams had left his minor league team following one in a series of many discriminatory episodes in his young career ) and staying with them for days, not mentioning baseball once, waiting for Billy to come back on his own terms--well, he also paid some neighborhood kids off to help his cause. His insight into the game was legendary, and his stories ranged from having seen Babe Ruth play when he was a child to hearing that same crack of the bat decades later when Bo Jackson played. He lived in Kansas City in its heyday, saw Charlie Parker playing on the streets as a child, and was close friends with Satchel Paige.

This really is a must-read for any baseball fan or anyone who has the desire to see what makes a man who holds no grudge against anyone, despite having what most would justifiably assume was ample reason to be mad at the world at large. Buck O'Neill's love for baseball and life shine through with ease, and Posnanski's love for his subject and baseball itself certainly do not hurt Buck's cause here. Oh, and the last two chapters are absolutely crushing.

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A Drink Before the War, by Dennis Lehane

The first in the Kenzie-Gennaro series (whose later installment, Gone Baby Gone, was brought to the big screen last year), A Drink Before the War is brilliant. Its narration is great, with Patrick coming across as every bit the wry, hardened Bostonian that he is in the Affleck brothers' effort last year, and the action does not slow once it gets started. The plot is labyrinthine and some pretty dark recesses of the human experience are delved into without hesitation. Politicians are dubious, cops are slightly vengeful, abusive husbands get their comeuppance, and private investigators crack wise as well as Bogey ever did.

Upon first reading, Lehane seems to be a damn gifted writer, and his graying of the codes of morality are thought provoking to say the least. When you finish, you will find yourself wishing there were more. There are, and I certainly anticipate running through the rest of the series once I make some headway in the ever-accumulating stacks of books I have been acquiring.

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Chronicle of a Death Foretold, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

This novel looks back at a puzzling murder that occurred years prior to the narrator's return to the scene crime. In historically investigating the murder of a friend, the inexplicable complicity of the entire village is pulled into the foreground and inspected with careful scrutiny.

As always, Garcia Marquez's prose is beautiful, and his knack for conjuring magical imagery is key to the beauty of the book. At a mere 120 pages, this is a book that could easily be read in an afternoon, and if you like Gabriel Garcia Marquez's other works, there's no reason not to dive right in.

Always on top of things...

I've just gotten around to watching "Garth Marenghi's Darkplace" and unlike that Indiana Jones movie, it's both well-written and funny. I was starting to wonder if that could happen. Well, it turns out it can and did. If you haven't seen it, it is readily available on the internet.

Here's a snippet:


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On an unrelated note, the primary season is finally over. My boy won, so I'm naturally happy. I've essentially tuned out since about Pennsylvania, as the media coverage has been anything but enlightening, but I'm obviously happy to see the person who I think has the most promising vision for the country walking away with what one would assume is the nomination.

Personally, I'm not of the mindset that this drawn out primary process has hurt the Democrats too much. For starters, I think the closely contested nature of the battle for the nomination kept whoever the Democratic candidate was in higher profile than their Republican opponent.

Now, the talk of who Obama will choose as his running mate is getting amped up with reports coming out that Clinton herself is trying to position herself for the Vice Presidential nod. I understand the reasoning behind arguing for choosing her, but I really believe that he'd be better served choosing a running mate with a much stronger defense background like General Wesley Clark or Senator Jim Webb of Virginia--Webb having the ability to deliver a much more valuable state than Clark, who may not even be able to deliver his homestate of Arkansas--both of whom could neutralize the war hero/defense strength of the McCain ticket. There is also the problem of their race having been fairly brutal, and she's looked less and less like a good sport about things as the race has appeared to get closer and closer to being his.

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Baseball notes:

• The Royals' two-game winning streak was snapped. Greinke was knocked around in the defeat. Not encouraging. Banny did pitch well Sunday, probably just to spite me for dropping him in my keeper league after his second-to-last start. He also busted out a new 70 mile an hour curve ball. Hopefully, Joakim can teach him how to throw in the 90's, and maybe he'll grow the Lincoln beard, too.
  
• I should also note that Miguel Olivo has played quite well for the Royals. There was quite a bit of rumbling when he was signed, but he's making a compelling case for being their everyday catcher. Sure, he strikes out a lot, but he's getting a lot of extra-base hits in limited playing time, while John Buck has often looked over-matched at the bat.
• John Smoltz made his return to the Braves as their new closer (with a new, three-quarter throwing motion). Apparently it didn't go as well as one would have hoped, resulting in a blown save. I really hope he can be effective, as he may be my favorite player.
• Jacoby Ellsbury is on pace for 74 stolen bases this year. That's in somewhat limited playing time with Coco Crisp getting the occasional start in his place. He is really making quite the case for being AL Rookie of the Year. Now I understand that it may be difficult for the Red Sox to get rid of Crisp, but it seems like they must be able to package him and Lugo (eating a sizeable chunk of Lugo's paycheck) for a real shortstop, which seems to be the only gaping hole in their lineup.
  
• The Indians lineup is looking terrible. Joe Posnanski put some of their key contributors' projected stats up and they're shocking. Now, I thought Hafner was due for another subpar year, but Pronk is hitting .217 with little power. Victor Martinez still hasn't hit a home run. There are some serious problems in Cleveland, and there isn't a river on fire. I'm sure it has to do with renaming the Jake.
  

Off to the Great North

Or something. Tomorrow morning I get to show my friend Andy that his wedding means enough to me to fly up to Milwaukee (yeah, the poor man's Cleveland--according to Joe Posnanski--which is basically the poor man's Pittsburgh) for the weekend. I do get to see friends and get drunk, so that's cool. I just wish it was in Minneapolis.

Why can't everyone think of Josh when planning their weddings?

They should.

Also, it's not warm up there. I think it snowed in Minneapolis last weekend. It's supposed to rain tomorrow in Milwaukee. That's fucked up. Do they know that it's May now? Someone send them the memo, ASAP.

I better get to eat some Potato Ole's tomorrow. Yeah, Chad, when I go to Milwaukee, I eat Taco John's. You can't not.

So I'm sorry for mailing this blog entry in reader. I will be incommunicado por este semana. That could be right, maybe.

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Also, it would appear as though that fire that I lit under the collective asses of our Kansas City Royals was a short-lived one. Two straight losses to the less than good Rangers, and the Royals find themselves four games under .500 again. And a stellar Zack Greinke start was wasted, to boot.

Why?

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Finally, I hope to see "Iron Man" this weekend upon my return to Austin. If so, be expecting a reaction soon.

And I really can't wait for "The Foot Fist Way" to open.

What are your feelings on Wordman?

'Roids seem to be all the rage

I'm not going to spend too much time dwelling on all this nonsense, but Joe Posnanski puts forth an interesting quandary. If things were reversed and Roger Clemens had been the first big name associated with steroids, would he have been villified as much as Bonds has?

To me, it seems there are just as many out there who've disliked Roger as have liked him. Were his name swirling around in this cauldron of PED-sludge from the onset, I can't imagine he'd have gotten better treatment. Hell, I think he's had many more incidents in his past to set up a media pouncing were the conditions changed.

I am glad that the initial reports that Pujols was named in the Mitchell Report were erroneous. I know if I were Pujols, I'd be livid, which it sounds like he is.

None of the players on my keeper squad were listed, so that feels nice, I guess.

Football thoughts

Now I am by no means a football expert, but I've got a couple of thoughts...

First, non-Chiefs thoughts:

• Adrian Peterson is amazing. Every time he gets the ball, I am captivated. And I hate the Vikings. Too many years in the heart of a fanbase who believe that they're Super Bowl-bound every pre-season only to not even care by the Week Five has soured me on the Viqueens (as Packer fans lovingly refer to them), but AP seems to be insanely talented and just looks faster than everyone else on the field once he breaks through the line.
• New England may just go 16-0 (19-0). They have two main challenges left, Pittsburgh at home in Week 14 and at the Giants Week 17. I can't imagine they lose a game at home leaving the Giants in the final game of the season. If their starters play (and would Belichick sit starters with an undefeated season on the line if they have homefield in the AFC locked up?), can you see them losing to the less talented Manning? I certainly can't. And I know each week anyone can win, but I don't know that that is the case when this Pats team is in the mix.
• Leaving the Chiefs out of the discussion for the moment, the AFC West is awful. Denver looks to be a joke, which is awesome. San Diego are either world beaters or don't belong in the NFL, depending on, well, depending on nothing. They don't really make any sense to me at all. As for the Raiders, I kind of feel sorry for them. That's messed up. I don't know if the Chiefs will ever lose to the Raiders again.

Chiefs Thoughts:

• Not that I think Priest still has the natural talent that LJ has right now, but I don't know that the offense can't be more productive with him in. They moved the ball better with Priest in against the Packers, a lot of which seemed to be related to the fact the Priest would actually throw a block in the backfield, allowing for a little more time for Huard to sit stone-footed in the pocket.
• As for LJ, is it just me or is he running scared. He doesn't seem to be hitting any holes, not that the line is opening any up for him, but he also doesn't seem to be running north/south at all. I'm not saying it's a heart issue or any of that nonsense, but he has certainly been dancing around behind the line of scrimmage trying to side-step tackles when it seems like he could take a lesson from Marcus Allen and lower that shoulder to ensure that he makes some positive yardage instead of getting dropped for a loss two of every three carries. Priest replacing him should at least have the Chiefs only losing one yard on each first down run play instead of the two yards that Larry has been losing.
• The O-line is awful. As Joe Posnanski has pointed out, they don't seem to be able to utilize Weigmann's skills (pulling/blocking out in the open field) and instead have an undersized center with speed attempting to block much larger (but slower) and stronger defensive tackles. Damion McIntosh seems to be over-matched every game. Not a good thing for your blind-side tackle. Right tackle seems to be a sore spot as well.
• Jared Allen has been phenomenal.
• I'd like to reiterate that Dustin Colquitt is this team's MVP thus far. How about that coffin corner punt at the two? Outstanding! And yes, I used an exclamation point. I never use exclamation points in earnest.
• I don't have anything against Damon Huard as a person, and I know the Chiefs are in the playoff hunt, but does anyone in the world think they could win a playoff game on the road (or even at home, for that matter)? This team is not the team to end the fifteen year (soon to be sixteen year) playoff-win drought. I know for a fact Brodie Croyle could have thrown that pick-6 in the fourth against the Pack.
• Gonzalez has been great the past few weeks. Granted tight ends have been having their way with the Packers lately, but he has been reiterating that he is indeed the best tight end in the game and has been for the past ten years.
• Lastly, I'm glad Bowe came back in the second half. Having their two go-to receivers being Samie Parker and Jeff Webb was a scary situation to be in there for a few possessions. It really would be nice to have Kennison healthy.
• OK, I lied. Lastly (for real), Eddie Drummond taking it back to the 18 every return is not cutting it. They'd be as well off if they had Phillip Drummond returning punts and kicks. For those of you who were wondering, Conrad Baines is indeed still alive. He merely looked 70 years old at 55. If memory serves me correctly, he is 83. Maybe Carl Peterson can sign Conrad Baines. He couldn't do much worse.

I would also like to thank Jupiter

for Joe Posnanski returning to the internet. It's been a couple of weeks now, but he's really the best sportswriter out there, amongst other things, and needs a broader platform than the Kansas City Star can give him.