Strong Cup of Coffee

Second-year San Francisco 49ers running back Glen Coffee retired yesterday.

Now, taken at face value, it's probably a little startling but not incredibly so. After all, the average career span of an NFL running back is 1.5 years, 3.5 years when all positions are factored into the equation. Anyone who's played football has had to retire at some point in their lives. I retired about five years ago.

Even Brett Favre will have to retire at some point.

What makes Coffee's retirement so shocking -- aside from the fact that he was the main back-up to an oft-injured player on a team projected to win somewhere around 10 games this season -- is his reasoning for walking away.

It wasn't what God wanted.

From all that I've read about him coming out of Alabama and now in the pros, Coffee is a deeply spiritual man who listens to his conscience. He listens to the Lord.

How many times have we all known in our hearts what He wanted for us, what He wanted us to do, and have chosen to instead do what we want. Sure, He puts things on our hearts, but there are times when our desires don't match His.

Here's a Q&A where he explains his rationale behind his decision.

I wouldn't be surprised if some fans and members of the media pan Coffee for being selfish and not thinking about his teammates, but until you walk with Him, you can't understand a decision like this.

Even if they do come, something tells me Coffee wouldn't care too much about that. He lives for the eternal; who cares what people say?

Sweet Mama Jamba

This week has been crazy at work... and it only gets worse from here, till about September 14th, anyway.

Dear Mr. Body Odor

Dear Mr. B.O.,

Let's call you Bo for short. I've been trying hard to avoid saying anything about this, so please excuse the length at which I'm going to go into this. Alas, sir, you've given me no choice.

I'm a big Seinfeld fan, but whenever I'd watch the episode where Jerry's valet has such bad body odor that it envelops Jerry's car to the point where he'd just give it away, I'd have a disconnect. I could never fully understand that scenario. Until now.

Let me just say that I love your work ethic. Whether I go in the morning or at night, it seems like you're there, about to put in some work. It may be that level of work, however, that has given you the strongest body odor I've ever smelled in my entire life. It is beyond b.o.

It overwhelms me.
Overpowers me.
It makes me want to stop working out, literally. I want to just stop what I'm doing and walk out of the building so that I can get some air. In those moments, I'll do anything to get some relief.

Honestly, I don't understand how others can be near you, Bo. I see you talking to them and I wonder whether or not their oflactory receptors are malfunctioning. I assure you that mine are not, sir. So please, PLEASE(!) put on some deodorant so that you can, you know, not smell like a Turkish sewer.

Thanks.

Your's Truly,
Sean

Under Construction

Too often these days I stare at this screen, trying to think of something to say, and coming away with nothing but a cursor blinking away at me. Taunting me, like it knows I've got nothin'.

I've wanted to get back int o being better, if only to do something consistent away from going in to work and trying to keep from being overwhelmed by some guy's body odor while I sweat through my tattered, old shirts at the gym. (Seriously, same guy every time. People are always around him, chatting him up, too. I have no clue how they haven't been quarantined due to exposure yet.)

I know that for my own wellbeing, I need to -- Who else will make fun of Brett Favre? -- but for some reason, it's harder than just saying "Ok, let's' do it."

I'm not sure what to call it. Writer's block seems like too cliche an explanation, although it could very well be the truth. While rationalizing the fact that I don't have internet access at home would be handy, I know of ways to circumvent that. I just haven't done it too often.

I guess that's the preparation for saying this whole writing again thing seems to be more of a work in progress thing than I'd like. But it's getting better. I mean, right now. I'm writing, see? So that's a start. And then tomorrow, hope fully I'll write. Then Monday. And so on and so forth.

After all, I do have some subject matter. Like the horrible (horrible) drivers in Chicago. Or the aforementioned, supremely stinky gym rat. Or the old love life. Or the start of what could be my next "step." All good material. Maybe in the coming days, I'll get into a few of them. Until then, I guess just settle for the fact that I'm working on it...and am almost there.

Take that, cursor, you smug bastard.