5 things on my mind: The kid becomes a teen, accepting the Birds fate, and leaving Twitter

Slowing time down would be a superpower.

Time moves faster than hate, which is incredible when you think about the current climate of mood and emotion in this country. 23 years after those towers fell and so many people came together with a sole goal of survival, it’s everybody for themselves again as the 2024 election starts to take that last lap around the bases.

Which was part of the reason I finally deactivated the Twitter account. After months (years?) of contemplating an exit from the Musk app, the trigger was pulled and my tweets and likeness can’t be found. The 217,000+ tweets are nowhere to be found without a search, and I have 30 days to log back in before it disappears for good.

Will I let it gather dust and blow away in a month? Undecided, but leaning towards letting it die and staying far away from the political dumpster fire until the 2025 baseball season fires up. The vitriol, derogatory pushback on everything, fresh-growing racism, and a number of other things was enough to cut loose from an app I have used since 2011. Back then, it was a new social media app with a bird logo and St. Louis origins, like a fresh restaurant full of good energy and potential.

I may be one of the few people on the planet who is followed by The Rock, Ryan Reynolds, Tom Cruise, Joe Buck, and 2/3 of the Banshee cast. It’s cool when they quote-tweet or retweet something you posted, or the very rare occasion where they type words out and actually respond from wherever they’re working from. But that’s like building a hut outside Hollywood Boulevard in the hopes that someone cool pulls off the street. It’s like owning a cool shirt that doesn’t carry much relevance anymore.

The real #1 reason I jumped off was the actual feed that I was given to scroll with--a collection of tweets, ads, and other bullshit I didn’t sign up for. Musk’s biggest tool job was hiding the tweets of users who weren’t paying customers, aka the ones who didn’t pay for one of his hollow verified badges. I used to have one of those and earned it, which makes the new system extra phony. So, if you don’t have one of those, there’s a good chance your stuff is being put in a corner right next to Baby.

I used to be able to light a match on some hot Cards topic and roll the grenade into the middle of the room for a lengthy and interaction-heavy conversation. The views would be high and a few new followers would be won over after a back and forth discussion went every way but loose, which made the thing worthwhile. Now, it takes a real shot from the hip overly hot take to rustle up some chatter. It’s too much work, and I like to make money when I work.

Twitter, or X, is also extremely overwhelming these days, and once again it’s the feed. You could see a pro-life, anti-life, sports, movie review, tv take, political, political, and then a tweet from someone you follow inside a ten second scroll. It’s too much to keep up with; Musk did maintain the white lightning speed of news that can travel on that app--which only makes me happy to graduate to the “less fucks to give, didn’t hear about it yet” older crowd. I was ready to leave.

I’m also ready to fire off a few more takes here before I determine the least amount of work I can accomplish or find on a hazy Sunday. You know, that somewhat (or very much) dreaded day before the return of the weekly grind. Since everything can’t be free and some of my X follower refugees could find their way here, let’s put a paywall before the rest. Consider the contribution paying for my pit bull’s expensive dog food.

Now, let’s get back into it, including the son’s 13th birthday.

-When I say time is a thief, it’s not a hyperbolic idea. I remember when the little dude was attached to my hip. These days, he’s more attached to the video game world. Virtual reality is his jam at the moment; there’s nothing like your kid walking out of his bedroom to clarify something you said while wearing a V.R. headset. “Hey Obi Wan Spaceonobi, what would you like for dinner?”

Whenever I carry his food up the stairs, a part of me feels like Alfred going to see if Batman is awake or not. All part of the parent tax as the kid grows and grows, a common notion that you don’t really understand until you’re in it. My wife treats him like the King of Wales, and fittingly so. My mom would have moved the Earth or tried if it was something I wanted, and Rachel is the same way with Vinny. Most guys would shout a useless, thankless “let that boy suffer a bit, woman” rant, but it’s wasted oxygen.

She’s a great mom, and he’s a great kid. For the most part, he makes things easy… outside of the every few days negotiation tactics. It’s like dealing with Mickey Haller if he wasn’t wearing a suit or riding in a Crown Vic. All part of the parent tax, which should be paid well and often. After all, he’s the future of the family, which makes him our own little John Connor. One more movie reference, and I unlock a special code for three in a single paragraph. Who said Vinny was the true Ready Player One in this house?

It’s a dizzying, complex, and at times tricky task to raise a kid. Asking him if he’s okay comes with the automated response that sounds like an athlete answering a reporter’s question that he would rather not, but you ask anyway. Knowing when to push or pull back is the skill, and I checked rage off the response list a long time ago.

Slowing time down, making a world more safe for him to grow up in, and merely keeping him safe are the things I think about most. As he races to 14, they won’t quiet down anytime soon. A parent’s job is never finished. It’s a house you just keep repainting.

-The Cardinals are 74-74, destined to finish around the .500 mark. Following a series loss and possible sweep this afternoon, St. Louis will enter Monday with 13 games remaining on the schedule before the brutal chill of a postseason-less October begins. After the 91-win 2022 season, the Cards could combine to win less than 152 games in two whole seasons. They’d have to go 7-7 to win ten more games than their 2023 total of 71, which would see them finish 2024 at exactly 81-81.

Not the finest look for a club with a payroll of $176 million. Subtracting the desire to spend $150-200 million on a single position player will be in their best interests, because it’s not working out well for them. Growing their farm talent and picking/choosing crafty veterans is a way back, but the entire talent evaluation system needs to be replenished. That is REALLY not working, and the team will be a tumbling stack of dice until they fix it.

Bill DeWitt Jr. and his son have a lot of work to do, but my guess is they will do just enough to stay on the fringes of contention. Here’s three things they can’t do:

--Don’t let Steven Matz start 2025 as a starter. Find another way or spot.

--Do not re-sign Paul Goldschmidt. He’s enjoyed a much better (than dogshit) final six weeks of the season, but let him further decline elsewhere.

--Shop Nolan Arenado if there’s a suitor willing to take most of the cash. He has a 2.7 fWAR and has saved the team five runs defensively, but he was a league-average, at best, hitter in 2024. Explain how that improves in 2025.

Build out from there with young starters like Gordon Graceffo and Matthew McGreevy, or Matthew Liberatore if the team will keep him in the rotation. Install Masyn Winn, Jordan Walker, Thomas Saggese, Alec Burleson, Brendan Donovan, Luken Baker, and the overrated but fine player Lars Nootbaar. See where the dust settles. Be smarter.

-One of the most paramount things that an employee must have in their job is a sense of security. As in, the people around believing in you and trusting you can do a task. That’s from the higher-ups in the company to the very people who sweat and bleed with you out in the warehouse. Without it, you’re a pack of wild dogs in the woods searching for their own scraps. It doesn’t have to be a lovefest or deep friendship, but a reliance that is set in stone without a mention.

A shred of doubt brings the whole building structure down, eventually. Unless you’re a contract killer, a team-oriented environment is the rule of the law. One person can’t do every single thing associated with a task; at some point, another set of hands has to touch it. People relying on each other and pushing one another, maybe even chirping and having some jokes. In the end, there has to be that belief and trust. If you have that and can hold onto it, time flies more smoothly.

-I’m a sucker for a good cheeseburger, preferably with two patties attached because I’m a man child when it comes to food. I’m not a bun snob or someone who relies on the toppings to make a burger work. If the meat is tasty and it binds with the cheese without ruining the previously mentioned bun, we’re in business. Jovicks Brothers Burgers, Hi-Pointe, Mac’s, and Carl’s Drive In all have tasty burgers--but finding the right French fry accomplice can be tricky.

Last night, for the first time in years, we had Five Guys. Widely known as a burger that can drop a hot grenade down your stomach, it was a rather harmless and pretty flavorful burger. When you don’t get the grilled onions, your stomach applauds. When you instead apply green pepper (which won’t wilt under hot meat like lettuce) for some crunch, it comes together better. The double was just enough to plug the colon dam.

It came in a nice, tightly wrapped paper package: The shiny silver packaging that carries a warm bottom and smells amazing. What I don’t need with a burger is a giant mess that won’t even allow me to eat it with my hands. If I have to use a fork and knife to eat your burger, you failed. If the lettuce and tomato feel like they were dragged across hot, desert concrete, you have failed. Stack it right, keep it tight, and make the meat the star. Thanks Five Guys. I will be back.

I’ll be back here tomorrow (possibly Tuesday) with some more commentary. Until then, be nice and slow the fuck down on the road. No one wants to see you that bad.