Trying to start a website on the Friday before a holiday weekend doesn't seem like a smart move, does it?

Yet here I am. And here it is.

I actually meant to kick this thing off at the beginning of the week, but the sudden, stunning death of MLive.com's Detroit Lions beat writer Tom Kowalski wouldn't let me continue the day without writing something about him.

Then Wednesday seemed like a good day, but that's the day I write a Tigers column for MLive. Plus, the Tigers had a day game, which meant a live blog to help out with. And did I mention that the contributing writers at Yahoo's Big League Stew are helping to fill in while Kevin Kaduk is on vacation?

Thursday was September 1. Perfect! Except not, for many of the same reasons listed above.

So that left Friday. And really, maybe it's appropriate that this first post on the "new," rebooted blog kept getting pushed back because of other commitments. Because it's kind of been the story of my blogging life over the past few years.

I've been blogging pretty regularly since 2004. Originally, it was a way to keep up with friends back home (and elsewhere) while I was studying at Iowa. Then it became an outlet for conversations I couldn't have and writing the type of stuff I wanted to read. Eventually, it became apparent that my sportswriting was attracting a different audience and getting the right kind of attention.

That led to new endeavors, which brought me more notoriety and actual employment as a writer, but consumed any time that could be devoted to the personal blogging I enjoyed so much.

Along the way, I moved my blog from Blogger to Squarespace. The idea was to have a new platform to play with, but also to eventually create an archive of all the stuff I was writing.

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I just noticed that the Seattle Mariners are having a "Sonics Celebration Night" before Friday's game against the Tampa Bay Rays. 

No, this has nothing do with drive-in burgers, smart guy. It's a pretty cool thing the M's are doing for Seattle sports fans, bringing in some of the most famous alumni from the NBA team that the city never should've lost. 

Just about every good player the Sonics have had is showing up at Safeco Field for this. Shawn Kemp, Gary Payton, Dale Ellis, Tom Chambers, Jack Sikma, Lenny Wilkens, to name just a few. If you never followed the Sonics or aren't a NBA fan, I realize these names will mean nothing to you. But for the fans who rooted for the Sonics and want to remember the days when Seattle was a Western Conference powerhouse, it's going to be fun to see all those old faces. 

(I was a huge NBA fan in my late teens and early twenties. Back before TNT and ESPN showed so many games on TV, it was rare for a fan in Michigan to see the Sonics. So when they were on TBS late on a Friday night, I tuned in. I loved the fast-paced, high-flying, deep-shooting style of those teams.) 

As impressive as that lineup is, however, there's one missing name that stands out to me.

No Xavier McDaniel? The guy had one of the coolest names ever. And his nickname, "The X-Man," appealed to my comic book geek side. 

Plus, he had one of the more memorable appearances in a movie from a pro athlete. (Even if the delivery could've used some work.) Remember this scene from "Singles"?

You rule, Cameron Crowe.

The year was 1983, the song was "Separate Ways." 

It was another big hit for Journey, despite a video in which the band is often depicted playing invisible instruments.

How did the discussion with the director go for this one?

Director: So what I'm thinking is we shoot some scenes with you guys playing invisible instruments.

Journey: What?

Director: Yeah, it'll be cool. Because this is a song about a, uh, failed relationship, right? I read the lyrics. So your instruments are like that girl that's gone now.

Journey: So we're just pretending to play guitars, drums and keyboards?

Director: Oh, and you'll be stalking some chick in heels and a leather skirt with massive hair. All takes place on a wharf.

Journey: [...]

Director: Trust me. This will rock. You don't see Foreigner doing this shit.

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If you missed CBS' "Sunday Morning" last weekend (and I'm betting you did, since I'm the only one in my age group I know who watches it — hey, I'm up early writing The Juice for Big League Stew), the last show had a feature on the 30th anniversary of Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'."

As if I didn't already feel old being up so early on a Sunday morning. I knew I was in grade school when that song came out. It was one of the first videos I remember watching on MTV. But there it is. 30 years.

UPDATE: The video isn't embedding, so here's a link to the feature.

The elephant in the room that report glosses over, of course, is that original lead singer Steve Perry isn't with Journey anymore. But that was probably too convoluted to address. Besides, the guys who wrote the song — including guitarist Neal Schon, whose opening riff and later solo almost always stop me in my tracks — are still in the band. And the new singer, Arnel Pineda, is such a great story. He should be a sequel to "Rock Star."

Nowadays, "Don't Stop Believin'" is one of those songs you hear everywhere. It's played at all kinds of sporting events, including Red Wings games and even Michigan football games now. (I'm curious to see if Brady Hoke puts the kibosh on piped-in music at Michigan Stadium this season.) We love that "South Detroit" line. 

It was in the final scene of "The Sopranos." It played over the post-credits scene (oh, and this one too) of "The Losers" (if you didn't see that movie). "Glee" made it big with the kids again. (I hadn't heard this version until creating that link for this post. Ugh.)

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It's been quite a while since I worked at Borders. But the downward spiral the company has been riding from irrelevance to bankruptcy, and now to liquidation just cannot be a complete surprise to anyone who's worked at a Borders store or at the corporate offices over the past 12-15 years.

That isn't meant to be an "I told you so." Even with the bad decisions and mismanagement I witnessed during my time there, I don't think I could've even imagined that Borders would just cease to exist.

Besides, I made a lot of friends when I worked at Borders, some I still consider close, and many of whom stayed long after I left. I don't know if anyone I know was still there when the final wrecking ball hit, but I certainly don't want to see anyone lose his or her job. Especially anyone who I spent many hours stocking shelves, manning registers, bitching about customers and doing some hard drinking with.

I really hope someone eventually writes a book (or even makes a documentary) about the rise and fall of Borders, from independent bookstore to small chain, to national chain that lost its identity while its ambition far overestimated the market. I don't know how many people would read that book — and I suppose there's some bitter irony in that there's now one less place where such a book would be sold — but I don't think I'd be the only one interested.

While reading the various obituaries on Borders, the easy (lazy?) culprit seems to be the explosive growth of Amazon and advent of e-books. I'd say yes and no. Amazon definitely had a lot to do with killing traditional brick-and-mortar bookstores, but Borders was late — way late — in establishing an online presence. We're talking a distant third to Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Borders.com was still trying to find its legs when I began working there in 1999. The company line at the time was "At least our site is making money." Right, because Borders hadn't invested the resources into its website that Amazon and B&N had. 12 years later, how did that turn out?

Borders cared so little about running an online bookstore that it couldn't even be bothered trying and eventually farmed the work out to Amazon. Say what? If you happen to go to Borders.com to search for or buy a book, only to see that Amazon is running the operation, why wouldn't you just go over to Amazon? By the time Borders decided to bring the operation back in-house, the toothpaste was long out of the tube. Hell, the tube had been thrown away.

(And that's not even considering the poorer service you'd get from the "new" Borders.com, compared to Amazon.)

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This wouldn't have been my first choice for a topic in my first post here in almost a month. But I've written quite a bit about Superman at every personal blog I've ever had. So with the release of a deleted scene for Superman Returns that I've always wanted to see, I figured I'd get some thoughts out there.

I was really disappointed in Superman Returns when it came out. That feeling hasn't changed upon repeated viewings on cable TV. I originally thought that maybe I was to blame because I anticipated the film so much that I was bound to be let down. And maybe I also knew too much about it going in, as I just can't resist reading rumors and updates (many of which contain spoilers) online.

As I wrote back in 2006, I thought Bryan Singer made a beautiful looking film. There's an elegance and poigancy to it that was unexpected. He obviously has tremendous reverence for Richard Donner's Superman: The Movie. But it's so much of a tribute that it ends up feeling like a copy. And should "elegance" and "poignancy" really be associated with a comic book superhero movie?

Anyway, here's the deleted scene that was originally supposed to open the movie. It's featured on the new new Superman Anthology Blu-ray/DVD set. This scene was rumored throughout the production and I was miffed when it had been taken out. I thought maybe it would enrich the story. But as you can see, it really doesn't add much.

A commenter on Vulture posted that this was like Stanley Kubrick's Superman. Maybe that's what Singer was going for. But it's a pretty slow way to open a blockbuster summer movie. And the final finished product didn't miss the scene at all.

If anything, this is a microcosm of everything that didn't work in Singer's movie. The scene looks pretty cool, but is slow and deliberate, and ultimately doesn't explain a whole hell of a lot.

I also felt like it was a bit out of character for Superman. The idea that he'd just up and leave to go find himself didn't sit well with a lot of fans. At the time, I didn't agree because Superman's feelings of alienation are one of his key character traits. But the previous movies (and comic books) established that Superman already has the Fortress of Solitude to tell him anything he needs to know about his home planet of Krypton. So why the wanderlust when he presumably feels such a deep obligation to be Earth's protector? Why would he just ditch Lois Lane if he loved her so much?

There have been other stories in the comics (such as "Kingdom Come") where Superman basically decided that he'd had enough of humanity. But he was a much older man in those stories, not the relative young buck we see in Superman Returns. That guy isn't jaded. So why does he act like someone who is?

The sequence also reportedly cost $10 million to produce. Yet it was cut out of the movie. It's enough to make you wonder how any studio would want Singer to direct another big-budget project. What a colossal waste.

[Pardon the quality of that video. I couldn't find anything better.]

Yesterday, the dentist told me I have a cavity.

I don't get cavities. At least, I haven't gotten one since I was probably eight years old. I was fortunate enough to have all my cavities in baby teeth, so they fell out. And I've made sure not to blow that second chance since then.

But my pristine streak of clean dental visits is now over.

The dentist just dropped it on me at the end of my cleaning. It was like, "Hey, nice to see you," before getting punched in the stomach.

The hygienist didn't give me any indication that something might be wrong. Everything was going fine, as usual. Make sure to keep flossing, etc. Then the doctor comes in, checks over the hygienist's work, does the tongue test for oral cancer. Again, everything is going fine. Then he starts jabbing that metal pick in my molars. And it sticks in one of them

"Ah, feel that stick? Yep, that's a cavity."

WHAT? I don't get cavities.

He said it was small enough that it didn't show up on X-rays. So maybe the hygienist didn't even see it. Or maybe it's normal protocol for her to leave breaking such news to the doctor. I don't know how this normally goes. Last time it happened to me, I was in grade school.

So since it was so small, can I take care of it myself. That's when the dentist gave me a terrible analogy.

"No," he said, as he shook his head emphatically. "See, a cavity is an infection. It's not like a skin infection that will eventually go away. Think of a cavity like cancer."

Like cancer? Shit, I guess I should be happy I only got a cavity.

"Cancer is just going to keep growing, unless you take it out. A cavity is the same way." 

But everyone was so nonchalant about this that I honestly wondered if maybe I misheard and this was just a warning. Of course, for a dentist's office, a cavity is business as usual. No big deal. Everyone gets them. The cynical side of me couldn't help but think that maybe my tooth wasn't that bad, and they were just trying to get $200 for a filling out of me.

So that's it for me. I'm back at the dentist's office Friday afternoon to get that filling. Do they still have to drill out a bunch of the tooth, even though the cavity is small? I have no idea how this goes.

In the meantime, I realize now that my mouth is simply too hideous to be seen in public. I'll be one of those people walking around with SARS flu masks to protect both myself and the people I encounter.

Well, those days are over. Screw it, I might as well eat a bunch of ice cream and drink non-stop Coke from here on out. What's the point of doing otherwise?

Helping to babysit my niece for 8-9 hours a day isn't always easy. Most of the time, it's a delight because she's so damn cute.

But it's getting harder to find ways to entertain this kid for eight hours without being repetitive. Those toys hanging from the mobile are probably getting pretty old. I've used up all my dance moves. I can only make up so many songs on the fly. (Fortunately, my fingers still seem pretty entertaining to her.)

Now, she's at that stage where she'll grab almost anything. (Usually followed by trying to stick it in her mouth.) Yesterday, she tried to swipe my glasses. No way, kiddo. But while I bent my head down, she found a new toy: My hair.

I was willing to go with it, because she was having fun. She was giggling and panting, with her eyes wide open and legs churning. So go ahead and yank away. Yes, it hurt a few times. A couple of times, she really had a good grip. But for the most part, I guess it was sort of like a scalp massage.

Baby Niece's mother warned me, however, that I might be setting a bad precedent. Soon, she'll be grabbing everyone's hair for fun because Uncle Ian lets her do it. Hey, that's their problem to deal with. I have to entertain a five-month-old baby all day.

After it was done, I couldn't stop thinking about this Looney Tunes cartoon. It's a pretty accurate re-enactment:

I recently started drinking Rooibos tea semi-regularly after meals, so was intrigued to see Slate post an article about it on Tuesday. I don't even remember what compelled me to buy and start drinking Rooibos (pronounced "ROY-boss"). Either it just looked interesting on the shelf at my local crunchy natural food store or I read something about its antioxidant benefits and/or growing popularity. ("It's the coffee drinker's tea!") Both are entirely possible.

The author of the Slate article, Jessica Grose, described what's appealing about the tea. It has a tobacco-like aroma to it and sort of a nutty, licorice taste, but sweeter. I'm kind of terrified I'm going to spill it on my carpet and leave a permanent red stain, though.

Unfortunately, I may just be buying into the latest yuppie trend, fueled by an appetite for antioxidants:

If the buzz surrounding Rooibos sounds familiar, it's probably because it follows the same general narrative as the cultural ascension of the grain quinoa and the açaí berry. The trio is difficult to pronounce (it's keen-wah, ah-sigh-ee, and roy-boss), and all three are imported from vaguely exotic foreign countries. (Quinoa is from Bolivia and Peru; açaí hails from Brazil.) Açaí's magical healing properties, like rooibos', were touted from the get-go.

In my defense, I've never had anything with açaí in it. Unless it was snuck into some bottle of pomegranate juice I was curious enough to spend way too much money on while waiting in line at the cashier. (Or was that coconut water? I'm such a sucker.) But I do like the quinoa. Having been raised on a steady diet of white rice, it's a far healthier, more flavorful alternative. That one doesn't strike me as trendy.

But if I'm guilty, so be it. (Just writing this post is probably indictment enough.) I can only imagine Rooibos will end up in Christian Lander's next "Stuff White People Like" book.

Maybe the true test is this: Would I offer anyone a cup of Rooibos if they were over for a visit? Well, I probably would to my very close friends. (Hey, you gotta at least smell this!) Others, maybe not so much. Maybe I'd stick to coffee or green tea.

Now if you'll excuse me, the tea kettle is boiling.

Last October, when the documentary about the making of "Darkness on the Edge of Town" — titled "The Promise" — premiered on HBO, I intended to write about it. But as often happens around here, especially now that so much of my writing time has to be devoted elsewhere, I never got around to it. (Joe Posnanski, I am most certainly not.) The draft has been taunting me from my blog's dashboard since last November.

I consider myself a Bruce Springsteen fan. Every time he comes out with a new album, I think it's worth checking out. I'm not a diehard. Hell, I passed on a chance to see him in concert a couple of years ago because my back was in too much pain to drive.But a few of his songs are among my all-time favorites, ones that make me stop to listen no matter what else I'm doing.

So I loved the film. What I most enjoyed was how it looked at the creative process. Seeing that at work was exciting. Making it even more compelling was getting to view Springsteen at a pivotal moment in his career, trying to follow up the hugely successful "Born to Run."

(Here's an excerpt from the documentary.)

Perhaps the biggest reason I wanted to write about the movie, however, is the revelation that Clarence Clemons' saxophone solo originally wasn't part of the song "Badlands." That floored me. Clemons' solo might be one of my favorite song parts ever. (It's around the 2:36 mark of the song, depending on the recording you listen to.) If I'm in the car, I blast it. If it comes up on my iPod, no matter what I'm doing, I stop and listen to it. Just soak it up.

badlands_sax.mp3

(download)

Click here to download:

badlands_sax.mp3 (282 KB)

Just the idea that we could've possibly been deprived of those 16 seconds is unfathomable to me.

Of course, I thought about that when news of Clemons' death was announced this past weekend. I remembered Bruce asking Clarence if Santa was going to buy him a new saxophone on their original recording of "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town." (Clemons was also the voice of Santa for the song.) I remembered laughing at how much fun Clarence had hitting the cowbell in the "Glory Days" video. (I guess he couldn't play sax in every song.)

Obviously, hardcore fans of The E Street Band have far more and deeply cherished memories of Clemons. I'd never seen him perform on stage. I envy anyone and everyone who did.

Rest in peace, Big Man. And thank you for those sax solos.