"We've traveled before,'' Bill Belichick, he of the electric quote, said upon arriving in London Friday, playing down the long flight from New England to London.
The Patriots played at Seattle in Week 6. Flight time from Boston to Seattle: 6 hours, 3 minutes.
The Patriots played in London in Week 8. Flight time from Boston to London Heathrow: 6 hours, 25 minutes.
Or, fathead, maybe he was referring to the fact that the team had been to London before, in 2009.
If it's not an interesting quote, why do you point it out?
The Patriots (6,500) and Rams (7,670) logged more air miles in Week 8 than the Packers will fly all season (5,774).
"Geography: how does
that shit work?"
Mr. Starwood Preferred Member Travel Note of the Week
So my brother Ken retired from his job in England in September, and we decided to give him a fun, frequent-flier-aided retirement gift: a trip to see a World Series game. So he came over and, as it turned out, the only game that would work for me was Game 1 in San Francisco, which we didn't know would be in San Francisco until last Monday night. Thanks to my friend Corey Bowdre with the Red Sox, we were able to buy seats at face value and we set off for California. I spent much of last Tuesday in Atlanta with Tony Gonzalez for some SI reporting, then flew to San Francisco Tuesday evening.
1) as you will see, this prologue is irrelevant to King's forthcoming gripe. He inserts it only to show what a swell guy he is, and to give a shout-out to some useful ticket connection that he, no doubt, intends to use again and so wants to butter-up.
2) Peter King is a high profile sports writer. In fact, I'm not sure if they get any more high profile than Peter King. He, no doubt, has connections all over the place, through teams, owners, other media personalities, publications, etc... You mean to tell me that he had to find an excuse (retirement) to take his own brother to a World Series game? I may be wrong about that, but the way he phrases it it seems like a one-time thing, which seems odd given King's access. Regardless...
I was deep in coach, in a middle seat. (The only way to fly! A middle seat for five hours and 15 minutes!) The 50ish woman seated to my left got increasingly frustrated with her iPad, sighing heavily, until finally she said, "Damn daughter!" and took the iPad and hit herself on the scalp with it. I clanked over, wondering if I was to feel the wrath of the iPad-abuser next, and she said, "My daughter must have erased this app I need! I can't figure the damn thing out!'' I told her I was sorry, and asked her what she did for a living.
"I'm in sales,'' she said. "On the way to San Francisco for a sales conference."
"Oh,'' I said. "What do you sell?''
"Well, various things,'' she said.
Well, all right then. We flew the rest of the way in crammed, painful quietude.
I love the overstatement of the ridiculousness of the woman. She's frustrated, so she sighs. Big deal. And she hits her head with it, which seems very odd until you think about it, and it's actually a pretty common reaction (she probably went "rrrrrrrr" when she did it). Granted, this sounds annoying, but it's hardly noteworthy.
Then, rather than leave the woman alone (or offer assistance), King tries to bait her into giving him more useless shit to throw in his "I hate travelling" piece. And she blows him off. Good for her!
Note, again, the woman is trying to figure out a work-related problem on the flight. This is something that King constantly talks about (typically the noise level on the Acela, or the internet connectivity in hotel rooms, or something). Yet here's another professional trying to work, getting frustrated, not in the mood to chat, and he acts like she's a fucking ice queen.
To illustrate, can anyone NOT imagine him writing this:
"I love the iPad, but there are times when I have trouble with it, especially after various family members use it and reconfigure it without letting me know. On a flight last week to San Francisco, I had intended to write some emails to schedule some interviews, but my preferred email program wasn't loading. Tried rebooting, no luck. Tried searching, no luck. Great. So the five hours I had intended to use for work just went up in smoke. Irritated beyond belief, I contemplated doing horrible things to the iPad before, as they say, cooler heads prevailed. My neighbor to my right, who, by the tint of his breath had been drinking far too much coffee, reacted as if I was going to hit HIM with the machine.
"Oh, I'm sorry." I said,"My daughter must have erased the app I need, and I can't figure the damned thing out."
I smiled, and went back to work on the iPad. But the guy didn't get the hint:
"What do you do for a living?" He asked, as if it could possibly matter. Why do people do this? What makes you think that I, in the middle of an obviously frustrating work-related issue, want to make small talk? Because we happen to sit near each other?
"I'm a sports writer" I said.
"Oh, what kind of sports?" he asked.
"Um," I said, not looking back at him, "mostly football."
I guess he finally got the hint, as we passed the remainder of the flight in blessed quietude.
I got to visit my daughter while in San Francisco. She works at Twitter, and one of the highlights of the trip (other than the fun of seeing her) was touring the office and getting to eat lunch in the cafeteria. Great benefit of working there: breakfast, lunch and dinner are free, and stupendous. (I had the grass-fed beef chili Americano, with heritage beans, and the tomato salad). Beer on tap there. No dessert. Hmmm. I saw no one with a beer at lunch, but I did see lots of different cold teas and flavored waters.
The layout of the office is conducive to exchanging ideas, with big tables and employees sitting at their desktops, and a ping pong table in a lounge nearby, with coffee and energy bars and ... well, let's just say it's not the kind of office I've ever worked in before. The thought process at Twitter seems smart: Make it a good place to work, a comfortable place where you enjoy spending hours a day, and you're probably going to be a productive employee.
"My daughter works at a media company and is very successful! And Hip! And, I swear, it has nothing to do with my connections or possible references my famous media friends might have been able to give her! And she gets free breakfast, lunch, dinner, and beer! Hey kids, get jobs like THIS out of college if you can!"
Heck of a good time at the game Wednesday. The day was perfect, sunny and cool, and the crowd giddy from batting practice on. That's a beautiful stadium, in a great place, with excellent sightlines. Not the easiest thing to do, squeezing in a quick jaunt out west to see the Series in a busy week, and catching a redeye home to get normal work done, but I'm incredibly lucky to be able to do so, and to be able to be with my brother doing it.
"My life is so perfect and charmed! Toodles!"
i. Beernerdness: If you have one baseball wish left (for those of you who like the game), I'd suggest this: Wish for a bleacher seat at AT&T Park in San Francisco, go to the park in time for batting practice, visit the Anchor Brewing stand behind the bleachers in center field, get an Anchor Liberty Ale, and just watch BP, preferably in the sun. That was the scene last Wednesday for me and my brother, and the beer, and scenery, were perfect.
"Hey, if you have lots of spare income lying around and/or a connection in the industry, go do this thing that my brother and I got to do. We're so fucking happy, it hurts."