Explaining the game
by Matt Worley

I was in the middle of a Hudson Leick obsession attack when I realized there was a good explanation for my behavior. I was sick. No, not in the head, but in body. I was trying desperately (aren't all sick people desperate in some way--especially when the pain seems like it could bring on death) to get rid of a strange stomach flu in combination with a sudden sore throat. The sore throat was easily explained: We went from 80 degree days to 50 degree days in one night. I still have no idea where that throwing up thing came from--at least it wasn't bloody this time.

My major obsession in life is the discovery of explanations. I want to understand the reason behind everything. I'm way past that "Why is the sky blue" phase. I'm actually into the way scary phase of "Why the Spice Girls?" Actually this is merely an extension of the "Why Alanis Morrisette?" phase. Oh sure, I try to find meaning in things other than pop culture. I was at a party with old friends last night when another question popped up: "Why aren't there any women at this party?" The explanation was actually quick, painless and two part. One: the party was organized by a friend who already has a girlfriend--he needs no other female companionship and there is no use screwing up his head with more choices. Two: our circle is getting smaller.

My quest for explanations has led me into many strange situations. One time I walked around a party shaking everyone's hand and saying, "Lovely reception, eh? Great wedding, huh?" in a obviously fake English accent. I did this little act with about five people before one woman looked at me like I was a freak, grabbed her hand away and said, "What the ---- are you talking about?" At this point I laughed maniacally and wandered in another direction. It is possible I've found another reason why there aren't more women at our parties.

I know my need for explanations is not really unique. Babies do it all the time. They point and gurgle and try to focus their eyes. If they spoke English in their mind (I know they don't, but I have to make it clear to all of you who do), they would constantly be saying, "What is that?" This lasts for about twenty years in most humans, but many times it lingers beyond that age like an annoying habit. I think this is a healthy habit as long as the answers one comes up with are logical, or at least humorous.

There are many people who don't do the necessary research to find the answers. Many times people just find something they don't like and decide that is the reason their life sucks. Recently I've heard a lot of strange explanations for life sucking: it's the Blacks, Whites, Latinos, Chinese, Japanese, volcanoes, Ellen DeGeneres, anyone who makes less money, anyone who makes more money, the police, the criminals, the President, the Congress, television, movies. I know there are more, but who needs a big list masquerading as a column?

I will only pick on one of these small minded people because it amuses me to do so. Newt Gingrich, freshly back from his visit with the Bank of Bob, decided he'd do a little griping of his own. It seems there is a perfect explanation why he had to borrow $300,000 from a sort of friend. Apparently the media is behind all of his problems. In an attempt to throw wild stones as his aggressor, he asked advertisers who support THE MEDIA (apparently we're all against him--oh yeah, we are) with money to demand changes in editorial policies or withdraw their monetary support.

I think I found the mysterious reason behind my stomach flu.

Matt Worley is currently trying to understand the Kansas City Royals current below .500 winning percentage. His first conclusion: bad relief pitching.

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