What is one to do with two weeks off of work? First off, how does one get to be off for two weeks? Beyond pulling a George Costanza and cooling off your feet in the soft serve machine, there’s not too many a way to finagle remaining a paid employee while lying on a futon for 14 days. Fortunately, I was able to contract a case of the John Buck’s, and have spent way too much time watching daytime TV whilst waiting for my body to adjust to the fact that it no longer has a dysfunctional piece of equipment between the L5-S1 vertebrae. The result has been a mind-numbing mash of Rachel Ray, stupid talking Volkswagens, and horrible Lindsay Lohan movies on Starz. Keeping me sane, however, is my keeping tabs on the sports world for you, the loyal reader.

Lefty and the Open:

Thanks to Chris Berman’s astute analysis during day-time ESPN US Open coverage (and where would our knowledge of sport be without him??), I know that people on Long Island loooove Phil Mickelson. I think it’s more like: Long Islanders love beer. They also love Amy Mickelson’s sweet caboose. If that, together with a dash of breast cancer, isn’t an A+ recipe for a Jeremy Schapp Sports Center human interest piece, I don’t know what is. We have long awaited somebody to play Wilt to Tiger’s Russell, and more than anyone, Phil has been, fairly or unfairly, bestowed that mantle. He was given raucous galleries at Bethpage in 2002 because 1.) at that point he was the Anti-Tiger, and 2.) had yet to win a major. Now, back in NY seven years later, he has three, and while he is generally despised by his fellow golfers, the media frenzy leading up to the open was largely about the course and crowd being overwhelmingly pro-Phil. The media fed it, and we ate it up.

I’m sympathetic for the fact that it has to be a difficult time in the Mickelson family these days, and I, like many of you, found myself rooting hard for Lefty down the stretch. But, the man is a professional. My best friend passed away from cancer a year-and-a-half ago. That didn’t stop me from going out there and selling sub-prime mortgages to people who didn’t have a pot to piss in.* These golfers have a remarkable ability to shut out everything other than the task at hand. Ricky Barns wasn’t shaken by anything going on in his personal life. He was shaken by the fact that he had never been there before. (Though I have a feeling we’ll find out that the D-bag hat had something to do with it). I don’t think Phil was shaken by Amy’s diagnosis when he pushed that five-footer by the hole on seventeen. He pushed it because it was the 71^st hole at the US Open, and this is what he does.

But, like he said after the round, he has much more important things to worry about now, and let me be the 20,000,000^th person to wish Amy Mickelson a complete and speedy recovery.

* Yes, that is actually what I did for a job at the time. You’ll be happy to know that even back then, I was a part of the problem.

I’m Taking a Mental Health Day *

* That title, of course, a line taken from Michael Cera’s turn as Nick in Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist. Pitch meeting: “We need a vehicle for Michael Cera. How about we cast him as an awkward high schooler? Except instead of enhancing his funny output with raunchy humor, which is only funny because of his awkward delivery, we’re going to give him hacky MTV-esque non-risqué dialogue. Oh, and we need a female lead…is Mandy Moore available?? No?? Hmmm…how about the daughter of the chick in the 40 Year Old Virgin?? …no, the one that looks like Hillary Duff with Gigantism…great!! Shooting starts Wednesday.”

It seems almost cliché these days; a pro athlete shrinking from the spotlight, citing the ever-more popular “anxiety issues.” In the past, our testosterone-fueled sports psyche would encourage the shunning of such concerns as meager and womanly. When I think of the most man-card friendly team of the last half-century, I think of those beer-swillin, mullet-rockin’, son’s-a-bitchin’ ’93 Phillies. Could you really see a DL stint in ’93 for Darren Daulton* re: a case of the “nobody loves me”?? No. A case of the bat shits, maybe, but not a case of the yips. Yet, here, a mere 16 years later, we find ourselves in a different reality.

The trials and tribulations re: mental health have been well documented for the likes of D-Train, Joey Votto, Khalil Greene, ** and especially the journalistic-ly well-worn path of one Zack Greinke.

* If you type Darren Daulton into Google, the first thing it pre-populates is “Darren Daulton Crazy.” I shit you not. Somebody has to christen this phenomenon. Google Fishing, perhaps??

** Apparently the path to mental health is playing the Kansas City Royals. Greene went 4-7 with 3HR last week in KC…Sucks to your Zoloft.

So, to what do we attribute this sudden influx of major leaguers w/ mental problems?? Is this a reflection of society’s growing acceptance of mental disorders?? Is this an increasingly easy to use excuse button for pampered athletes?? Maybe a little bit of all-of-the-above.

Ballclubs have so much time, effort, and money invested in each of their players, that they almost don’t have a choice but to accept a player’s anxiety-related issues, and help them to work their way thru them. I’m not suggesting that those running the ball clubs don’t actually care about the players (much has been written about Greinke’s relationship with Allard Baird and Buddy Bell re: their supportiveness during his ordeal), but if you don’t think their pocketbooks are receiving as close a look as the psyche of the player in question, you’re crazy in need of a mental health day yourself.

Bottom line is that it’s a completely legitimate concern (if you think your boy Bellwether hasn’t contemplated a vaca to the bin, you’d be wrong), and these athletes are human. Nothing but respect to ballplayers who have battled their mental demons and made it back to the ballpark, but the reason for the up-tick in cases is not for me to decide…that’s Outside the Line’s job.

Man, These Guys Suck

Last night’s performance notwithstanding, the Royals have officially turned back into the Royals. Nice to have you back again, boys. You tried your best to trick us: a hot start (18-11), a terrible 30 game stretch (6-23) and, just when you think they have things back on track (winning five of six, pulling within 4 ½ of first place Detroit), they crap the bed and get blown out five games in-a-row.

The path has been well-worn by both Poz and Rany (amongst many others smarter than I), but more than anything, getting crushed like we did is probably worse because of who it happened to. The Cardinals series is always the most populated series of the year. The crowd is usually inhabited by jerky red-clad STL-ers who still hold a Denkinger grudge. Always, the Cardinal series is a chance for us humble Royals servants to see a stadium filled to capacity, albeit with half of it clad in opposing garb. This year was supposed to have been different, though. We’ve been able to ring the turnstiles without the help of our cross-state rivals on a number of different occasions, and this series was supposed to show them that, now armed with a legitimate stadium, we were a legitimate baseball team. WRONG.

Much has been written about how we might have a chance to win the central this year. While many were hoping for the best before the season started, much of our enthusiasm was tempered by a realist approach that there were several things that needed to fall into place. I think it’s pretty clear they haven’t:

- Kyle Farnsworth is not a legitimate bridge to Joakim Soria

- Billy Butler is not the next John Olerud *

- Alex Gordon could not stay healthy

- Coco Crisp could not stay healthy

- Joakim Soria could not stay healthy

- Mike Aviles could not replicate last year’s performance

- Mike Jacobs has not learned how hit lefties

* BR’s top comp to Billy is…drum roll please…Ken Harvey

It goes on-and-on. The Royals do have some of the best starting pitching in the league, and have some good complimentary pieces. It just doesn’t look like they have the big bats coming down the pipe to really put a contending team on the table unless the chips fall exactly where we need them to. I got news for you…the chips never do. At least we’ll be into July before Poz’s annual “Why us?? Why, God, WHY!??!?: Royals’ Season is Officially Over” column this year.

Final bits:

1.) There’s a new Pepsi commercial that they are airing these days during nationally-televised baseball games. It’s a mashup of Bob Dylan’s “Forever Young” that features the BEP’s Will I. Am. The fact that I want to puke when I hear it notwithstanding, the commercial itself shows ole-school footage of baseball icons next to the stars of tomorrow. Included are side-by-side shots of Mr. Met and Sluggerrr, and a pick of Billy Butler pointing a bat at the camera. I know I just kind of dissed Billy, but that’s pretty cool…and here, you thought the rest of the country didn’t know we existed.

2.) The KC Star only archives Posnanski columns back nine months…where are last years Royals columns?? I call shenanigans…

3.) I was looking for a video clip of Darryl Strawberry shedding a tear in the outfield due to a heckler in the “Homer at the Bat” episode of the Simpsons, but couldn’t find a video of the episode anywhere, so I went with a “Gigantism” blast instead. Are we really in the great internet age when I can’t find a Simpsons episode online?? I probably wasn’t looking hard enough…

4.) Thoughts and prayers to the residents of Parkersburg, IA…again…