The Guy Next Door

Between the 5th grade up until I was in the 10th grade, I had this neighbor that lived next door to me. He was an only-child, and no matter how much he tried to defend it, there was no denying the fact that he was spoiled. His parents, I really didn't know what they did for a living, but they had an in-house housekeeper/babysitter who spoke only Spanish, which was fine because they were a Latino family anyway. He and I were on-and-off friends throughout those five years - we had a lot in common, and we had very similar interests.

But if you were to ask me how I felt about things bottom line, it would be simple - He was kind of a dork, even more so than the blogger I became to be. He was easily excitable, and probably was pretty creepy in closed confines. I was better at video games than he was, whether it was Street Fighter or Final Fantasy, I could draw better than he could, I was a better athlete, and most importantly, I was better at basketball than he was. The last one was important, because in the end, our friendship ultimately ended because of basketball.

Despite the fact that we both had our own basketball hoops in our driveways, I had the innate ability to lower the height of the rim so that we could both pretend like we were international versions of Spud Webbs or Cedric Ceballoses, y'know, the dunk gurus of our respective generation at the time. But let's face it - both of us were chubby overweight kids, we weren't black, and our jumping abilities were pretty elementary. That didn't stop us, and we still dunked away on a 7-foot high rim. And then, my neighbor got this inspiration to pretend like he was Shawn Kemp or something and perform a monster slam, followed by a pull-up on the rim. Naturally, not being Shawn Kemp, the attempted dunk wasn't pretty - and since my basket wasn't exactly NBA-standards, when he dangled on the rim like a 130 lb. Spanish fly, the rim made this painful sounding creak, before literally snapping the welds.

I shouted at my neighbor, and instead of admitting fault like a real man would do, he got really mad at me, as if I did something wrong, and then stormed back to his house. He and I have not spoken since, even to this day.

I saw him on television today.

With each accomplishment he had, he jumped over the third-base line, obviously uncaring on how much of a dork he looked like. When scorned, he glared with his beady eyes like a psycho filled with hate and promises that wouldn't be delivered. And when he was ultimately relieved in the end, he was given a standing ovation by a crowd who obviously had low expectations. And to make things worse, he tipped his cap towards the crowd that cheered him as if he threw a no-hitter or something - an act that someone with a lot more class, and higher standards would have refrained from doing.

Oliver Perez - 6.2 IP, 9 H, 2 R, 2 E, 9 K.

With the exception of the 9 strikeouts he recorded, that is a pretty mediocre performance. For a veteran like Tom Glavine, or even Roy Halladay would walk back to the dugout with his head low, somber, and fearing that his bullpen might blow whatever lead might be in jeopardy.

But with the way the Braves were playing today, Perez was pretty safe. This is the second time that I've seen Perez go crazy and shut the Braves down. I don't think for a moment that he is a good pitcher, because I've seen way too many other teams tee off on him like he were pitching on that shitty ball on a string product that Derek Jeter pimps on infomercials. There is just something about the Braves that turns off the suck-switch, and he performs well. And it's not like he was all that great, it was that the Braves just couldn't get any hits in succession to generate some runs. That, and Andruw Jones is trying his butt off to hit homers, which is blowing up in his face, and hopefully will drive his contract price down towards the year's end.

I will admit that Perez played well. Way more well enough than needed to beat the Braves on this day. But Oliver Perez just annoys me. He is just one of those guys that you just don't like for not a whole lot of reasons aside from the obvious. He's dominated the Braves twice this season, which is reason enough, but I dislike him for more than just that. His actions. His mannerisms. His personality, or my percption of it.

• The way he leaped like a fairy or a George Costanza over the third base line on his way back to the dugout after he got out of inning after inning.
• When Chuck James got a little frustrated after the homer he gave up to Ramon Castro, he threw a little high and tight pitch at Perez to get him off the plate and crowding him. Perez then glared at James who was obviously ignoring his empty threats. With those beady eyes and dumbfounded look on his face, he acted like he would have any chance at all he if got into a real fight with the Southern-bred and raised James. I'd pay to see that.
• When he was finally relieved in the 7th inning, Perez leaped like a fairy for the last time over the third base line on his way to the dugout, and then tipped his cap to the cheering crowd like he just completed a perfect game or something. I'm sorry, what? Nine hits? Is that something to be that proud of? This past Tuesday, John Smoltz left the game after giving up six hits to the Nationals, and could be seen in the dugout throwing Gatorade coolers and equipment around in sheer frustration.

The bottom line is that I'm miffed about the Braves losing. Losing to the Mets is nothing to be ashamed about, as they have rebuilt their squad into a legitimate contender throughout the last two years, but losing to Oliver Perez just annoys me. He is a gigantic dork who celebrates like a champion for small victories, and he's plain ugly too.

Was Oliver Perez really my neighbor? Hell no. But metaphorically, Perez was my neighbor. We could've been friends at some point in my life - but his lifestyle, his actions, and just plain stupid reasons lead to why I just don't like him.

This real neighbor, I actually located through myspace anonymously, and I discovered that he, like me, dropped a great deal of baby-fat throughout the years, and like most twenty-somethings in modern America on myspace, has a large variety of grainy digital pictures taken in clubs of himself with a drink in hand, with some 7/10 females in his company.

I bet if I played some one-on-one with nowadays, I'd still whoop his ass. My Olajuwon-esque fadeaway > His Matt Geiger-esque wanna be Jabbar sky-hook.