Kingdom Come

Yesterday I got one of the toughest e-mails that a blogger can ever receive. It was from my close pal and confidant Nick the Voice, my old working buddy who was there when this all the began. He told me thtat I was slipping, that I lost my inner Sip.

He referenced a recent article about Steve Trachsel and mentioned several places where neccesary Keanu Reeves sports film quotes could have and should have been referenced. It got me thinking -- yeah, that's right folks, I still do some of that, in between long nights at Winston's with L. Lohan and BBall sessions with Fred EX and Nellie over at Sports Club LA.

I needed to go back to my roots, the place where it all sort of started, the place where Byrnesy pours coffee on his pancakes... you may know it as the city of brotherly love, San Francisco. Having made the 6 hour trek up here all by my lonesome -- Fact: that was my first time on a trip by myself of more than 8 miles -- I had a lot of time to reflect.

I threw on some Team Facelift to get the juices flowing, some Killers to keep the adrenaline up and then had a nice run with Chris Martin to help me find my inner Keanu.

See, Rod Tidwell had "Quam", Sippy Momo has "Keanu." It's just my word. After 6 hours in the car and a bad Milky Way it all came to me. And so I started writing. 82 pages of pure genius. I was my father's son again. I titled the piece Blogging: The Things We Think But Can Not Say. I went to the local Kinko's and even got a cover that looked like "The Catcher in the Rye". Every fellow blogger I know got a copy, even my good friend Zarko Cabarkapa, who is apparently huge in the blogosphere back in Serbia & Montenegro. I was ready to become whole again.

All of which brings me to today. Fresh off a gorgeous Knicks loss to my formerly beloved Golden State Warriors, I strolled onto the internet to type up my piece. I figured I'd take a crack at Isiah or Nate Robinson -- who I really hate. I'd talk about how the Knicks could lose to any team on any night -- Fact: they lost to a Warriors team missing its two best players and the Warriors are already bad.

So I went to the website where I'm supposed to type up my daily Jawn but there was a problem. It wouldn't let me in. Apparently that little mission statement of mine got me into some hot water with my fellow bloggers. Who knew? I was shit out of luck. AFOMG couldn't help me and neither could Cheddar Ben.

Fortunately for me, there was one man who could help. I jumped in my car and drove to Lombard Street where my good pal and hero Keanu Reeves was filming the sequel to Point Break, in which Johnny Utah gives up surfing and catching bank robbers to drink coffee at local San Francisco coffee houses.

The set was typical Beanery shiek and Keanu wore an elegant "coffee house hat" and birkenstocks. There was no Bodhi; Angelo Pappas was replaced by Keanu's newest partner, fresh to the screen Joe McEwing, who played Keanu's 13 year old son.

In between takes I pulled Keanu aside. Before I could get a word in I had to high five Joey Mac and practice his new handshake that he was saving up in case he got a call up back to the show. When all this tomfoolery was done and I had a second with the master, I knew I would resolve my issues.

"Keanu," I asked. "What should I do?"

"Brah," he responded. "What would Robin do?"

It all hit me. I took a look at my plaque of Robin Ventura getting beaten up by Nolan Ryan and I knew.

It's only after we've lost everything that we are free to do anything. I let my computer run down to no battery (death) and then plugged it in. When I returned, it would all be repaired. Or so I thought. I returned to the website to write today's column, my return to kingdom come, figuring all would be good.

But it was not. I sat there for a few seconds, and drew inspiration from a waitress I met in Knoxville, TN who constantly repeated the words, "I guess." "I guess the burger is pretty good." "I guess the Vols might go on a run." I didn't really draw anything from her, I just kind of wanted to bring that up.

I closed my eyes and thought extra hard about what I could do to resolve my problem. A quick image of Elisha Cuthbert in The Girl Next Door crossed my mind and I knew... I went onto that crazy internet of ours, went to my gmail, and emailed my column to good 'ole AFOMG. I did what any American blogger would do in a time of crisis. I passed my problem along to someone else.

The Mets passed Kaz Matsui to the Rockies only to start winning. Keanu passed up a football career in the pros to chase bank robbing surfers. And today, I passed on trying to resolve this problem, cause I was sure that the big guy could take care of it all. Much to my liking, he did.

I called Keanu to thank him for his sage advice. He told me that he couldn't chat and that he was practicing some new form of a weird Tibetan Yoga. I obviously understood.

I just wanted to let you all know that I am back. No more fucking around. I love you all.

Vaya con dios,

Sip