What, Me Worry?

Roll call. Sip's the laid-back SoCal guy around here. A.F.O.M.G. isn't exactly a worrywart or anything, but the man's been known to let a thought or two percolate around his dome and keep him up at nights.

Me? I've been in this weird nervous state all week long. Usually when I'm busy, I'm able to focus in on what I'm doing, and keep all that extraneous nonsense out. But not this week. For some reason, I've found myself slipping into this fugue-like state where all I do is stare straight ahead and wonder about how things are going to play out.

Not constantly. I'm not turning into the guy from "Awakenings" or anything. But it's happened quite a bit recently, and about a bunch of different things. I guess I've just got concerns, that's all. You can understand that, right?

I'm worried about Duaner Sanchez

He's supposed to be fine, I know. Clean bill of health, completely healed, ready to complete his lost season. And I should probably be worried more about other players on the team. If everything plays out as planned, the Mets will again have the best 'pen in the league. If it doesn't, they're still going to have a really solid group of relievers, so why worry so much?

I'm not sure. I think it's the combination of the goggles and the car crash; they have me convinced that Duaner's some kind of fragile muppet who'll never be back to full strength. I picture his knee falling apart like pulled pork the first time he tries that leg kick in spring training, causing the new Chris Cotter to run off the field and vomit. Or a hip flying into the stands. Or, hell, a car coming onto the field like in "Caddyshack" and giving him another go.

I just want him throwing off the mound live before I let this one go. It'll disappear real fast once I see the delivery a couple of times, but for now, I'm playing amateur orthopedic surgeon in my head.

I'm worried about Moises Alou

See, this is another one where I've thought myself into being upset. Really, I love the Alou signing, I wrote that I did at the time. Pretty much everyone here at Y2K agreed it was a good signing, as did most commentators in the rest of the baseball world. Short deal, good pop, low risk, "soft" hands, etc.

That's what's got me going. The approval is so unanimous that it becomes worrisome. I look around, and I'm like, "I know all of these idiots. None of us are ever all right about anything." Which is true, whether you're going to admit it or not. Now I'm scared that he's got a hidden defect that's going to show up, again, on the first day of spring training, like a giant boil on his throwing hand or a perpetual summons to a Bonds trial hearing.

"Now Mr. Alou, isn't it TRUE that you pee on your hands before baseball games? Now, I'm no big city lawyer, but that would seem to make you a pretty unreliable witness, wouldn't it?"

I need to chill on this one, and let it play out. At his age, there's always going to be a risk of his skills and numbers suddenly vanishing. I should probably focus on that, and not the more exotic problems.

I'm worried about the Bills moving to Canada, damn it

Oh, yeah, the internets have got me in the crunch. Rumor out of Buffalo is that Bills owner Ralph Wilson is fixin' to move the team to Toronto. Now, the rumor is unrealistic enough in certain spots (the NFL can certainly stop him from selling the team if they want, for example) that I'm not nearly as worried as I should be. (Isn't this column about how I'm unduly worried about things? Yes. Cognitive dissonance.)

But Wilson's media stance over the past year -- constant and strident vows of poverty, constant bitching and moaning about the NFL's new collective bargaining agreement, which is pretty much agreed to be no picnic for smaller teams -- backs up this type of scenario. We can't really trust him, either; he's a Detroit guy with no particular love for Buffalo other than the money we've made him over the years and the fact that we've got a taxpayer-funded stadium named after the old coot.

That and a dollar will get you a roll of pennies. I'm going to be watching this one like a hawk to see if anything new develops. A hawk with a bleeding ulcer.

I'm worried about the new Octavian on "Rome"

Not watching HBO's sweet-ass series about the doings of the Julii on the Capitoline? Sucks for you. It's a sick show, sweeping operatic plot arcs filled out with scads of debauched details about some of the most messed-up people the planet's ever turned up. Great characters -- Marc Antony's a sleazy creep, Brutus is the biggest bitch you'll ever see.

Cleopatra? She da freak! As my boy Piglet might say, I like my historical epics the way I like my nurses ... sexy.

But here's the rub. They're right in the middle of changing over actors from the young Octavian to an older one, the guy who'll eventually become Augustus Caesar, and I don't see how they can find someone as good as the kid who started off the character. He's done a fantastic job with the role, and seeing as how the Octavian character is sort of crucial to what's going to happen on the show, they really need to have hit a home run here.

I'm sort of worried about Tommy the Spy

Met ESPN's Buster Olney on Wednesday night; he was way more intense in person than I expected, a little bit quieter and very serious about what he was saying. I've been known to take issue with a lot of his claims on "Baseball Tonight" and such, but he was making plenty of sense with me.

Still, one thing bugged me. We were having a discussion about steroids and the Hall of Fame voting, and he was explaining why he voted for McGwire. The reason wasn't so much that there was no proof, although he did say that, but that you could never know where to draw the line for players from that era if you started judging them. The whole, "No McGwire, No Sosa, then No Pudge" argument. Even Mike Piazza's name got pushed into that conversation, which I understand.

But then he pulled out the Alex Sanchez Corollary (most of the players getting caught using are skinny guys) to throw a little doubt on EVERY player from that era, just to crystallize the point, and the guy he picked out of a hat to demonstrate his point was none other than Tom Glavine. "How can I be sure that Tom Glavine didn't use steroids?" and "We don't know whether he did or he didn't," and such, all until everyone in the room was basically in agreement that Glavine was the biggest doper we'd ever heard of.

It was just for argument's sake; even though there's basically no chance Glavine was using, it's a fair point, and I'm not really that peeved. I just would have liked to see Tommy's reaction to a conversation like that.

I'm worried about every jaw in the NBA

Um, gee ... I wonder what kind of reaction this is going to provoke? If only we knew how Carmelo likes to respond when someone challenges his manhood. If only we had that knowledge.

Stick and move, Western Conference. Stick and move.