A Saturday at The Mall

By Nick McCann

It is not a good idea to sit in a parked car in the Mission Valley Center parking garage at 11:30am on a Saturday morning, smoke pot, and listen to The Mighty 1090 after walking out of a movie that was a complete disgrace to your childhood.

For me, when the Boston Celtics clinched the NBA Eastern Conference Championship on Friday night, things changed. Whether I deserved it or not, that night, sports gave me something back: Lakers/Celtics on the biggest stage possible. Because sports are important to my decision-making process (that shouldn’t be true), Boston’s victory allowed me to finally be able to see Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of The Crystal Skull. I figured that if sports were giving me the 80s back, I should at least give Dr. Jones and the 80s, a shot.

After 45 minutes, and that ridiculous Atomic Bomb garbage (if you haven’t seen it, trust me, this confusion is easier to deal with), I went back to my car, sat, and started furiously pounded my dashboard. I was completely convinced that because of the disappointing movie, the NBA finals were going to be a 4-0 sweep in either favor (as a San Diegan, I root for the best NBA drama over any team).

Then, I decided to get high by smoking weed out of a ridiculous glass pipe my hippie ex-neighbor gave me. After freaking out about my retna's reflection in my rear view mirror, I chose to listen to losers call into a radio station that provides softball sports coverage, and Ted Leitner commercials for his favorite local divorce law firm, Kerry Steigerwalt’s Pacific Law Center.

Kids, say no to drugs. More importantly, know when to say no to yourself.

After listening to some idiot bitch about Trevor Hoffman’s performance this year on a day after Trevor hadn’t done anything wrong, Leitner’s recent Pacific Law Center spot came on at the same time when I rolled down my window to let smoke exit out of my car in front of a security guard, who saw it, but didn’t give a shit.

According to Ted (that is the working title for the first and last Kept Faith sitcom developed using my THC soaked brain), divorce sucks and you should always have good representation. For Leitner (that is the title for the next Tim Flannery record that my THC soaked brain needed to hear at that moment), the late 80s and the early 90s will never be over. He is the type of guy who had a decade of his life where he kicked more ass than he ever should have (see: Pete Wentz of Fall Out Boy in five years). His prime was being the voice/face/comic relief of a sports community that only had his corny jokes about hockey to smile about from about 1986 to 1995. Essentially, current Padre color guy/salesman of all things local, Mark Grant, has now moved in on Leitner’s market and destroyed him as a man (THC soaked brain speculation).

However, the fascinating thing about Ted Leitner’s divorce commercial is that his “creepy drunk fun uncle” personality works really well when he admits that he has been through it three times and that he knows who can help you if you end up like him. His trademark media persona sounds nice on the surface, but it leaves you thinking sure, this guy totally gets divorced once or twice a decade. If I were going through that hell, he would know a good lawyer. Who cares if that lawyer has a fucked up lazy eye?

This season will always be remembered as the season where Trevor Hoffman lost it. It started with the end of last season, and because the Pads don’t really have a legitimate replacement, Trevor will probably be forced to tough it out until (A) he gets injured (B) he pulls an amazing Orel Hershiser move and retires on the mound when the manager is talking to him or (C) he makes the personal decision to step down for the sake of the team and take a lesser role, forcing Hells Bells to go back to where it belongs: bar fights in Lakeside.

Trevor Hoffman is not Ted Leitner, but there is something to Ted’s ability to accept what he is and make the best of it. Ted was always kind of a joke, and now he is selling the fact that women can’t live with that joke for an extended length of time. On the other hand, Trevor has always been looked at as the classiest stand up teammate, and now he might be holding on too long to a successful past that was over in the second half of last season.

The only way Trevor can significantly add to his legacy at this point is if he publicly decides to never close again. This would be the ultimate selfless move a player in his position could make, and it would allow him to ride off into the sunset as the greatest teammate in Padre history.

On Saturday, I walked out of Indiana Jones because I didn’t want to see him stumble his way to finding the Crystal Skull. On Sunday, I wanted to divorce myself from having to depend on Trevor Hoffman at the end of a 3-1 away game in San Francisco. Sadly, even Ted Leitner and his Lazy Eyed attorney can’t help me.

When I was done killing brain cells in my car alone, I walked back to the shops upstairs and went searching for the perfect purple Padre hat. I was trying to make the best of a messed up Saturday by trying to be something I was not. Like Trevor, I was trying to save something that I couldn’t save.

Kids, say no to drugs. More importantly, know when to leave the mall.